Tis the Season to Be Sinful (9 page)
Richard turned toward Juliet. With an ease that bespoke of much practice, he quickly hid his tumultuous emotions. “It’s fine.”
“Fine?”
Her expression tightened, the disappointment obvious.
Hell.
This wasn’t only about the chicken, he realized. She had put a great deal of effort into making the ceremony and celebration an elegant affair, and he had not commented on any of it.
Hell.
This wasn’t only about the chicken, he realized. She had put a great deal of effort into making the ceremony and celebration an elegant affair, and he had not commented on any of it.
“You look lovely today,” he blurted.
Color rose up her cheeks. “Thank you,” she murmured, her expression conveying her confusion. Then with a slight shake of her head, she returned her attention to her plate.
“Very smooth,” a masculine voice whispered. “Your compliment was so original and overwhelming it obviously left her speechless.”
“Not one more word, George,” Richard muttered tightly as he stabbed a piece of chicken with his fork. “Or I’ll push your face in the cake.”
Still dressed in her pale yellow wedding gown, Juliet stood at the window in her bedchamber and stared down at the moonlit garden. The view was lovely and serene. She pressed her forehead against the cool glass, and then slowly turned her head, shuddering as she beheld the roses on the walls and bedcovering, and the still larger roses woven into the carpet.
Goodness, it was ugly. Without question, this was going to be the first room she would redecorate.
She had taken this chamber as her own because of its proximity to the master suite, knowing a husband liked being near his wife. Of course, she and Henry had shared a bedchamber, and a bed, from the beginning of their marriage. The only time they had slept apart was immediately after she had given birth, and even then it did not last for more than a few nights.
Though Richard had not said anything on the matter, Juliet suspected he would have a different view on a married couple’s sleeping arrangements. For now, it seemed prudent that she have a bedchamber and he have a bedchamber instead of sharing. Yet one more thing distinguishing this marriage from her first.
The guests had left soon after luncheon, their sincere wishes for her happiness ringing in Juliet’s ears. After a few tense, awkward moments alone, Richard had politely excused himself, then bellowed for Mr. Barclay. Taking a rather large pile of papers from his secretary, Richard had gone into the study to attend to business matters.
Juliet had not seen him since he took his leave of her.
She kept her normal routine for the remainder of the day—sitting with the children while they ate their supper, helping Lizzy with her bath, then tucking each one under the covers before reading their favorite bedtime story. But instead of the master bedchamber, she had come to the rose room to await her groom.
With a wistful sigh, Juliet retreated to the small dressing area. Her fragile hopes as she recited her wedding vows earlier today seemed to haunt her as she prepared for bed. She had married a stranger. A handsome, virile, stoic, at times somber man. The precise opposite of her first husband, with whom she had been blissfully happy.
My God.
Juliet swallowed hard and reached for her nightclothes, glad she had dismissed her maid for the night, relieved she was alone. Everything was a blur as she changed into the silk nightgown and matching robe purchased especially for tonight. She sat at her dressing table and let down her hair, then slowly brushed it in an effort to keep her dizzying thoughts at bay.
She had married a stranger, yet so had Richard. Did that put them on even footing? Or make them equally foolish? She honestly couldn’t decide.
There was a tap on her door and it opened before she answered. Richard appeared in the open doorway. He was wearing a sapphire blue brocade dressing gown that emphasized the width of his shoulders. She could see the dark hair curling on his chest where the robe gaped open and realized he wore nothing else beneath it.
She thought him handsome in the daylight, but in the romantic glow of the candles he looked like a classic work of art, finely chiseled and excitingly proportioned. Juliet felt breathless and weak-kneed as the reality of it all suddenly swept over her like a tidal wave. She was married. To this magnificent, powerful man.
After weeks of wondering what it would feel like to be another man’s wife, the time had arrived. It was their wedding night and they both knew what was about to happen.
Closing the door behind him, Richard crossed the room. As he drew closer, heat prickled along her skin and her stomach muscles suddenly contracted. His hair was damp and she realized he had just taken a bath.
“Do you want me to extinguish the candles?” he asked.
The deep timbre of his voice caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise. Juliet took a steadying breath. As a young woman she had learned the best way to cope with nerves was to stare them down.
“If you don’t object, I’d like to keep the candles lit,” she replied in as bold a tone as she could manage. “In fact, why don’t you light a few more?”
He gave her a long, disbelieving look, then did as she bade. The glow of the numerous candles brought the decorative roses to life, casting an almost pinkish hue over everything.
“Hell, this decor is sure to give us nightmares,” Richard said dryly as he glanced about the room.
She smiled, then lowered her lashes coyly. “Then we probably shouldn’t fall asleep.”
He raised a brow and moved closer. She could see that he had shaved recently and the clean scent of masculine soap filled her senses. Juliet closed her eyes and breathed deeply.
“You enjoy having sex with the lights on?” he asked as he reached out and slowly pushed aside a stray lock of her hair, his fingers gliding along the hairline.
With his thumb and forefinger he continued down her throat to the swell of her breast. Juliet’s eyes popped open and she stared into his face, savoring the pleasure of his delicate touch. It had been so long she had forgotten how a man’s caress could feel.
She took a step forward and slid her hands up the lapels of his dressing gown. “Sometimes candlelight, or even daylight, adds excitement,” she answered throatily. “What do you prefer?”
“Seeing my bed partner has multiple advantages. Especially when she is as pretty and luscious as you.” His voice was as sultry as his heavy-lidded gaze and full of promise.
She smiled softly at the compliment. All women liked hearing they were attractive, but he uttered the words as if she were the only woman he had ever told she was pretty.
Playfully, Juliet trailed a fingertip down the center of his bare chest. Richard caught her hand. She swallowed as her heartbeat raced. She waited for him to kiss her, but instead he went to the table on the other side of the room and poured them each a goblet of wine.
“I imagine your other wedding night was very different,” he said casually as he handed her a drink.
Juliet frowned and looked down at the wine in her glass. “Yes. Henry and I were very much in love.”
“And we are not.”
She lifted her head and gazed into his eyes. “No, we are not in love.”
Not yet.
“But I am glad that we are married. I like being married, having a household to run—”
Not yet.
“But I am glad that we are married. I like being married, having a household to run—”
“Having a man take care of you,” he interjected with a cryptic grin.
“Caring for me,” she corrected softly. “Yes, I like it.”
“Good. I want you to be happy, Juliet.” He reached out and took the glass from her hand. Smiling, he set both their glasses on the table. His eyes were darkening with passion.
Juliet could feel her cheeks growing warm. She had had three sips of wine and almost nothing to eat all day. But it was not the lack of food or the potent spirits that were making her feel light-headed. It was Richard.
She felt captivated by the purposeful expression on his face. Suddenly, his lips parted. Her name came out as a groan a second before his lips descended on hers. She opened willingly for him, and he probed inside her mouth with tantalizing sweeps of his tongue. Sensations raced through her body, the heat surging between her thighs.
Lord preserve her! Juliet recognized the feeling for what it was—intense sexual desire. She had felt it the first time he had kissed her weeks ago. Yet she felt it even more acutely now, knowing it would not have to end with a kiss.
Richard’s true feelings about this marriage were difficult to fathom, but one thing was certain. He found her desirable, as she did him. It was as good a place as any to start.
Juliet removed her robe, and then without pausing to think, she grasped her nightgown and pulled it off over her head. Tossing it aside, she tilted her chin and gazed into his eyes. “I believe I’m ready. And you?”
He stilled, his gaze growing hotter, more intense. “I was ready the minute I walked into the room,” he said gruffly.
Juliet’s heart raced with a nervous thrill. She walked slowly to the bed, lying down in a sensual pose on the soft mattress. His eyes hungry, Richard followed, climbing onto the bed and stretching out beside her.
Turning, he began nuzzling her breasts with his lips and tongue, circling around the nipple. Her blood heating, Juliet dug her fingers into the tense muscles of his shoulders and arched her hips up against his.
He raised his head. “I want this to be good for you, Juliet.”
“It is, Richard,” she breathed.
He continued with his tender ministrations to her breasts and heat blazed through her, pooling between her thighs. He began nibbling his way down her body in a slow, sensual glide. His fingers led the way, touching and stroking, and then finally, finally, they came to rest on the top of her heated thighs.
Oh, yes.
Small shocks of pleasure tingled through her as his fingers delicately stroked the sensitized folds of flesh between her legs. The restless, edgy feeling continued to build, the pressure almost too intense to handle. Every stroke of his skillful fingers brought a mixture of agitation and pleasure until her body was coiled so tightly she thought it would snap.
Small shocks of pleasure tingled through her as his fingers delicately stroked the sensitized folds of flesh between her legs. The restless, edgy feeling continued to build, the pressure almost too intense to handle. Every stroke of his skillful fingers brought a mixture of agitation and pleasure until her body was coiled so tightly she thought it would snap.
Richard was in no hurry, however. He was slow and deliberate, using the heel of his palm to cup her intimately. Juliet’s head tipped back wantonly and she closed her eyes, breathing deeply as his fingers slid inside her. He set a rhythm that soon had her sobbing and surging toward him. The sweetness continued to build, higher and higher, and then suddenly Juliet heard herself cry out loudly as release came, rippling through her with shattering power.
It took a few moments for her to regain her senses, and when her eyelids fluttered open, she saw Richard watching her, his gaze hot and intense. He reached out and gently touched her face, and a rush of tenderness enveloped her. Feeling the tears gathering behind her eyes, she quickly turned her head and kissed his palm.
The mattress dipped as Richard shifted. Cupping her chin, he turned her head and captured her mouth with his. When the kiss ended, she could feel his warm breath on her cheek, harsh and ragged. Gathering her courage, Juliet finally opened her eyes.
He loomed over her, his expression tight. Picking up her limp hand, he whispered hoarsely, “Touch me.”
She found the request infinitely arousing. Eagerly Juliet reached down between their bodies and wrapped her fingers around his penis. Moving her hand slowly up and down his full length, she soon discovered the rhythm he preferred. The skin was silky soft, but underneath, the thick shaft was rigid, letting her know he was more than ready to possess her.
Juliet shifted her position to accommodate him, but he surprised her again by turning away.
“What are you doing?”
“Protecting you from getting pregnant,” he answered, reaching for something he had left on the rug beside the bed.
She caught a fleeting glimpse of a small, red velvet envelope before his body rolled on top of her. “I can’t wait any longer, Juliet,” he said, in a strangled, harsh voice.
As he spoke, she felt him slide the length of his rigid penis along her entry until her dampness coated him. He shifted his body to rest his weight on his forearms and she spread her thighs wider. He made a rough sound deep in his throat at the gesture and gave a powerful thrust.
Juliet gasped loudly as a sharp fullness burned through her. Not a pain per se, but a deep, low pressure that made her feel possessed.
She relaxed and opened to him instinctively, sliding her palms to his muscled thighs, urging him closer. He pushed farther and farther into her and her dormant flesh opened and stretched, taking him eagerly inside.
Just when she thought him seated to the hilt, he grasped her bottom with both hands, tipped her hips, and plunged deeper. Her shoulders arched and she stared up into his face, finding his expression fierce and intent.
She felt herself pull away from the rough, gritty look in his eyes. He stilled, sensing the change in her. “Am I hurting you?”
The gentleness in his voice instantly calmed her fears.
“No. I . . . no.”
She bent her knees to cradle him, suddenly shy. She had fallen so easily into their intimacy, savoring the closeness. He was her husband, and in the eyes of God and man that made it all right, yet it still felt strange.
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