Candice Hern (19 page)

“I really think you might have saved me one more dance, Pru.” Nick stood at the sideboard in
their drawing room, poured himself another glass of wine, and took a swallow. He offered a glass to Pru, but she shook her head.

“I wish I had done so, but before I knew it, every set was taken. I’m sorry, Nicholas. I confess it surprised me no more than you. I’ve always hated going to balls because I never got to dance much, and my feet always itched to dance.”

“You made up for it tonight.”

“I did.” She smiled. “And I had a wonderful time.”

“I’ll bet you did, with all those Vikings swarming upon you like bees to honey. You were quite the little honey pot tonight.”

She shot him a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

“Flirting with every blond buck and beau that solicited a dance.”

“Flirting? Me?” She began to laugh.

He took another long swallow of wine, found the glass to be empty, and set it down on the sideboard. He walked toward her. “Yes, flirting. Smiling and beaming up into their eyes. You were flirting.”

“Nicholas, I have only attempted to flirt with one person in my life, and it was a disaster. I assure you I was not flirting. If I was smiling, it was because I was enjoying myself.”

He planted himself in front of her. “Because you know you look best when you smile, that your face lights up the room.”

She blinked at him as though not comprehending. “My face lights up a room?”

“Of course it does, as you well know.” He reached out a hand and gently stroked the back of a finger along her jaw. “You could have lit every chandelier tonight with your smiles.”

An uncertain little half smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. “I could have?”

“And frankly, my dear, I did not appreciate watching you flirt over supper with that popinjay in the dragonfly waistcoat.”

“My cousin Robert?”

He grasped her elbows and pulled her up against him. He ought not to have done that. He’d promised himself he’d be an honorable gentleman tonight. He’d also promised himself a kiss. Perhaps he wasn’t going about it as gently as he’d planned, but his mind was too befuddled with drink to care. “You should not have flirted with him. We are supposed to be playacting a love match, you know.”

She swallowed hard. “I know. I tried to play my part.”

“Did you?” He wrapped his arms around her. She was too deliciously irresistible, damn it all, and he was tired of playing the gentleman. Tired of taking it slow. Tired of watching other man ogle her like animals when she belonged to him.

“Yes. R-Robert asked if I was in love with you. And I s-said I was.”

“Good girl.” He dipped his head and nibbled on the flesh beneath her ear. He’d been wanting to do that all night. There were a lot of things he’d been wanting to do all night. “It is not right, you
know, to flirt with another man when you belong to someone else.”

“Oh.” Her breathing had become labored, and her beautifully exposed bosom swelled with every breath.

“You belong to me, Pru.” He brought his mouth to hover over hers. “You’re mine. Mine.” He closed the space between their lips and crushed her mouth beneath his.

He had no patience for subtlety or finesse. No care for his promise to take it slow. The wine and champagne and brandy—and raw, unabashed jealousy—had destroyed all concern for that promise. He forced her lips open and thrust his tongue deep inside her mouth. She gave a little groan, and he pulled her closer against him so she would feel the strength of his desire.

Nick released her mouth and slid his lips to the sweet, white skin of her throat. “You belong to me,” he murmured against her neck. “Say it, Pru. You belong to me. Say it.”

“I b-belong to you. Oh!”

His lips had found the enticing swell of her breasts. Lord, they were soft. He wanted to see them. He wanted to see all of her.

She gave a startled cry when he swept her up into his arms. It almost unnerved him. But, God help him, he did not think he could stop now.

“I want to make you mine, Pru.”

“Oh.”

“Will you let me? You belong to me, Pru. I want to make you mine. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Will you let me?”

“Yes.”

He bent down and kissed her. “Then come with me, wife.”

Pru could hardly believe what was happening. She wanted to cry out with joy but was too scared and excited and nervous to do anything but hang on to his neck.

She so wanted to please him, but wasn’t at all sure how. This was completely new territory, and she needed a guide. She wanted to tell him that she really did not know what to do, that he would have to show her. But her nervous tongue was tied in knots as usual—
more
than usual—and she could not have spoken if she tried. Which was just as well. She would be mortified for him to know how clumsy and stupid she felt.

When they reached his bedchamber—his, not hers; that surprised her—he deposited her on the floor and kissed her lingeringly and thoroughly. He tasted strongly of wine and smelled faintly of shaving soap. He stepped away to light a candle, then he shrugged out of his coat and waistcoat, and removed his neckcloth. Wearing only his shirt and breeches, he grabbed her for another kiss, then began to undress her. She was no doubt supposed to have done it herself, but she was shaking like a jelly, and her hands would have made a mess of it.

He managed to remove her beautiful tunic and bodice and underdress, and she stood in only her
chemise and corset. His gaze raked her from head to toe as he surveyed her near nakedness. He stepped back and said, “Let your hair down, Pru.”

She reached up to remove the combs, but her hands were shaking too much.

“Ah, Pru. You’re trembling. Are you frightened?”

She shook her head.

“Nervous?”

She nodded vigorously.

“Ah, sweetheart.” He folded her in his arms and held her close. In a moment, his hands were in her hair, removing combs, letting them drop on the floor. When the last comb was gone, her curly mass of hair spilled over her shoulders and down her back.

Nicholas released her and stood back a moment. “Magnificent,” he said. “Glorious.” He took her in his arms again and buried his face and his hands in her hair. He kissed her ear and it tickled, so that she gave a little squeak. He laughed and released her again.

He spun her around and went to work on her corset. He demonstrated a rather disturbing talent for unlacing stays and she did not care to consider where he had gained such deftness. It fell to the floor, and there was nothing left but her chemise and her stockings.

This would be the perfect time to snuff the candle, Pru thought. She did not think she could bear the next step in full light. But he did not move to do so, and she could not have formed the words in any case.

He stepped up behind her and brought his arms around to pull her close against him. He buried his nose in her hair and brought his hands up underneath her breasts. She sucked in a breath and held it while he gently moved his hands to cup them. When she was finally forced to breathe, it came out in a raspy moan.

“Oh, God, Pru.”

He pressed against her, moving his hips, and she could feel…it. Dear God, she could feel his arousal through his breeches.

She sincerely hoped she would not swoon before they got to the most important part.

He abruptly let go of her, and she shyly turned to see what he did. And was suddenly glad the candle was still lit. He had removed his shirt. Oh, but he was beautiful. Having lived in a house with five brothers, Pru was not completely ignorant of the male form. She had never, however, seen it quite so thoroughly displayed, and was unprepared for the powerful effect the sight of all that gorgeous masculinity had on her. Her whole body tingled at the sight of him.

He was not bulky and broad like her brothers, but lean and firmly muscled, his upper chest and belly covered in soft, dark hair. He smiled to see her studying him, and her face flamed with embarrassment.

He reached out for the straps of her chemise. The moment of truth had come, and she did not know if she could stand it. She would die. Surely she would die.

She closed her eyes tight as he slipped the straps over her shoulders and let the chemise fall to the floor. Oh God oh God oh God. She was naked. And he was looking at her. Her eyes were closed, but she could feel his gaze upon her.

Now was the moment to die of embarrassment. If it was ever going to happen, now was the time.

Yes, she had wanted this. More than anything, she had wanted this. But somehow she had never thought of what it would feel like to stand naked before him. What it felt like was thoroughly, completely, excruciatingly embarrassing.

Her hands came up instinctively to cover her breasts. But Nicholas pulled them away and held them out to her sides. She must surely be scarlet all over. Every inch of her.

“Open your eyes, Pru.”

She shook her head. She did not want to see him looking at her.

“Please. Open your eyes. Look at me.”

She supposed she would have to do so, sooner or later. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes.

And he was looking at her. He studied her quite openly as he continued to hold her hands out to her sides. She wished he would not do that. He had obviously seen many women without clothes on, women a hundred times prettier and more shapely than she could ever be. And yet he stared at her with a look so heated, she thought it must surely be desire.

He dropped her hands and reached out and gent
ly, ever so gently, touched her left breast. Her nipples immediately tightened into nubs, and again she thought it would be a good time to die.

But then he said, in a voice filled with wonder, “Look at you, Pru. Look at you.”

She would rather not. And would just as soon he did not, either.

“You’re perfect.”

Her eyes widened. What?

“Just perfect. And all mine.”

He drew her up against him and kissed her. This was much better. Kissing was better than looking. Oh, much better.

With her eyes closed and his mouth on hers, being naked was not so bad after all. She actually loved the feel of his bare chest against her naked breasts. The heat of his skin. The musky smell of it. The raw carnality of bare skin against bare skin. It was truly the most incredible sensation. She could not stop herself from rubbing up against him.

He groaned and broke the kiss, swept her up into his arms, and laid her on his bed. He removed her garters and stockings, leaving her completely exposed. She burrowed beneath the sheet while he removed his breeches, small clothes, and stockings.

She could not help staring when he stood beside the bed completely naked, completely aroused. She had never seen a fully naked man before, except in paintings and statues. And never fully aroused. It was fascinating, and a little terrifying. She knew what was going to happen, but she could not imag
ine how. Surely there would not be enough room. She was, after all, a small woman. How on earth were they ever to accomplish this consummation?

Nicholas pulled back the sheet and joined her on the bed, gathering her into his arms. It was then that all logical thought was ripped from her by an overwhelming of pure physical sensation, new and unfamiliar and exciting.

He kissed her all over. She had not expected that. When he took her breast into his mouth, she gave a little cry of pleasure. She ought to have been embarrassed at such a thing, but heavens, it was wonderful. It set up a tingling throughout her body, and she even arched up to him, silently asking for more. She could not seem to stop the little cries that escaped her lips again and again as his tongue circled her nipple and traced a path to the underside of each breast. There was a heat surging all through her body that seemed to collect in that most private part of her. It was startling and new and even a little frightening. But she did not want it to stop.

And his hands were everywhere. Touching, stroking, fondling. His hands were warm, almost hot, on her skin. Every place he touched felt singed. She was on fire. He even touched her
down there
, and oh, my God, she was wet. Surely she should be mortified, but she was beyond thinking. Her mind was not in control. Her body knew what it wanted and pressed up against his hand.

He came on top of her and spread her legs with his knees. She could feel his arousal where he’d touched her. He took her mouth in a succulent
kiss and pressed himself against her. Her body was quivering, taut as a bow string with anticipation and need. Somehow, she knew she had to have him inside her to fulfill that craving, that need she could not articulate.

And then he
was
inside her. She cried out, but his mouth still covered hers, and he swallowed her cry. It hurt. Dear God, it hurt. But he kept pushing, slowly, deeper and deeper until there came a moment of searing pain, and then he was completely buried inside her.

Somehow, it had worked. But she felt stretched, even torn. She gave a little whimper against his lips, and he lifted his head. He stroked a hand across her forehead and around her cheek. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. But the worst is over. Try to relax.”

Relax? Was he mad? How could she possibly relax?

Nicholas lifted himself onto his forearms and began to pull out of her. Or so she thought. It was not over. He moved in and out in a slow rhythm.

She had expected more pain, but it did not come. There was a lingering soreness, but as he moved, as each stoke came deeper, it began to feel…good. Oh yes, this was not bad at all. Soon, she realized her body was moving with his. Her hips seemed to move of their own accord, pressing upward to meet each thrust. Her fingers dug into the muscles of his shoulders, grasping for something she could not name. Her breathing became shallow. She was panting openmouthed. There was a roaring in her ears, and she felt as if the world were spinning.

“Oh, God, Pru!”

His rhythm increased to a crescendo, faster and faster, until he buried his face in her hair and gave an inarticulate cry. He stilled, let out a deep breath, and collapsed on top of her.