To Tempt an Earl (32 page)

She was beautiful, a vision from every dream
he had ever been creative or poetic enough to imagine. The beauty
of St. George's arched ceilings, the pillars and molded wood seemed
ragged against the breathtaking beauty now standing beside him. As
she'd walked down the aisle, it was as if his body had revolted
against him, not allowing breath into his lungs and his heart
pounding so hard its cadence drowned out the organ music.

The rest was a blur; all he remembered was
when she'd said yes.

And the warm sensation of her hand within
his.

Much like the warmth of her hand placed upon
his arm.

Right now, he wanted that warmth on far more
than his arm.

And, in the seemingly never-ending cycle,
he'd reached down for his pocket watch and realized that only two
minutes had passed since the last time he'd checked.

"I do believe it's time to depart," Graham
spoke suddenly, interrupting Lord Neville's congratulatory
words.

Bethanny shot him a surprised and slightly
panicked expression.

Hopefully, she was only concerned about his
lack of social grace, and not his impatience to begin other…
activities.

Yet, as he remembered their clandestine
meeting and the kiss that had scorched his very soul, he was quite
certain she was only scandalized at his social skills.

But he was a desperate man.

And desperate men didn't hold to
convention.

No, they simply didn't give a damn
anymore.

So, with a knowing look from Lord Neville,
Graham excused himself and his stuttering bride and made his way
out of the entrance of the duke's residence, where the breakfast
had been held.

And God was smiling on them, for behold, his
carriage stood waiting.

"I rather thought your impulsive nature might
get the best of you," Clairmont called out behind them.

"I can't imagine your meaning," Graham shot
back as he helped a beaming Bethanny into the carriage.

"Let's just say I've been in your shoes… and
they are hell itself."

"You do have a heart in there." Graham
grinned as he glanced to the duke's chest.

"So I've been told." Clairmont shrugged. "I
don't expect to see you soon." He smirked and turned back to enter
the house.

"Please remind me to thank your guardian
profusely… much later." Graham murmured as he gathered his bride
into his arms and settled her onto his lap.

Good Lord, if I thought the breakfast was
torture, the carriage ride will be even worse!

"I'm surprised you lasted
this
long."
Bethanny grinned and leaned down, tracing her tongue along his lips
before passionately assaulting him.

Graham groaned in pleasure as her sweet
tongue danced with his, her body shifting slightly to press into
his frame.

Her soft fragrance driving him mad.

With herculean self-control, Graham continued
to kiss her,
only
kiss her as they made their way to his
townhome. Her lips were soft delights that caused the fire of
desire to burn and smolder till his self-control held on by a
slight thread. Only the knowledge of her innocence held him in
check.

He wanted to be perfect for her, each time,
every time, but especially the first.

The carriage rocked to a halt, and Graham
gently set Bethanny from his lap, his body demanding that he return
her to the previous position, yet he resisted the urge to ravage
her in the carriage and exited, holding out his hand for her to
alight as well.

Then, without warning, he bent and swept her
into his arms. Bounding up the stairs, he sent up a silent prayer
of thanks when Watkins immediately opened the door and bowed, a
knowing grin on his face.

"We are not to be disturbed," Graham shot
over his shoulder as he made his way to the stairs.

"Of course." Watkins bowed, but Graham only
caught the first hint of the gesture; rather, he was focusing on
taking the stairs, two at a time, savoring the sweet tingling
laughter coming from his wife as she held tightly to his neck.

She
knew
she should be scandalized,
first with the presumptive and overly passionate kiss interrupting
the priest, and
then
with leaving their own celebration far
too early, yet Bethanny couldn't find it within her heart to give a
fig.

Rather, she was lost entirely in the bliss of
knowing she was loved by the man who had utterly captured her
heart. Graham's strong arms held her tightly as he bounded up the
stairs, as if almost afraid to let her go.

She understood the desperation. It had been
too long since they had been afforded any measure of privacy.

The five minutes the duke had given them over
the past two days didn't signify.

She ached,
needed
to have him to
herself, uninterrupted and unhurried.

And, thank the good Lord, she was finally
able to have that time.

And it was only the beginning. Because she
was his wife, of all the women in the world, only
she
would
carry his last name, his title… his children. Unable to restrain
her delight, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his
neck. His flesh was scented with a sweet spice that sent her senses
to reeling as her body warmed further with desire. She nipped his
skin slightly with her teeth, earning a groan of delight mixed with
frustration from her husband.

Husband.

She'd never get tired of saying it.

"You will be the death of me," Graham swore
as he shifted her weight so he could open the door to his rooms
with one hand, while balancing her weight with his other.

Bethanny raised an eyebrow to show her
approval.

"Love, I appreciate that you are easily
impressed… but it's not necessary," Graham teased and carried her
over the threshold. Kicking the door closed, he promptly deposited
her on the bed, not allowing even a breath of time before his lips
covered hers. Gently pressing into her, she reclined on the bed,
relishing the intoxicating sensation of her husband's weight atop
of her. He teased her lips with his own before darting his tongue
along hers, the beautiful expression of give and take that sent her
body to humming with a need she didn't understand.

"I do believe we are finally alone,
countess," he whispered along her lips as he moved to nip teasingly
at her jawline.

"Indeed," Bethanny whispered back, arching
her neck to give him greater access.

"I love the curve of your neck. I swear you
taste like heaven just here." Graham swirled his tongue just where
her shoulder and neck met, causing her to gasp. "I'll remember
that." He chuckled and proceeded to nudge the fabric of her dress
with his nose. "However, I do believe we must do something about
this." He pulled at the fabric with his teeth.

Bethanny gasped slightly as she glanced down
to watch him. His eyes were dark and smoldering embers that
promised to set her aflame.

Though she could have sworn she was already
burning.

Gathering her courage, she ran her hands over
his chest and under his coat, loosening it from his frame. "The
same could be said of you, my lord." She teased as she tugged on
his cravat, loosening it and pulling till the silk was removed from
his neck entirely. She tossed it to the floor, not waiting for the
soft garment to float downward; rather impatiently, she leaned
forward and began to kiss the small opening at the base of his
neck.

"Good Lord, Bethanny," Graham spoke
hoarsely.

She smiled against his skin, savoring the
millions of pleasurable sensations all surrounding her, creating a
fog of desire.

"Enough." Graham pulled himself from the bed,
his eyes dark with something mysteriously delicious. He made quick
work of removing his coat entirely and began on the buttons of his
blindingly white shirt. Groaning after impatiently unbuttoning
three, he swore under his breath and removed the garment over his
head.

Bethanny gasped.

His movement had tightened the hardened
muscles in his abdomen, causing a rippling effect, which captivated
her. He was beautiful. As he tossed the shirt to the floor, his
shoulders bunched with the gesture, and her gaze traveled upward,
taking in the firm lines of his chest and the smooth texture of his
skin.

When she moved her gaze to meet his, she
grinned as he winked at her. "I'm delighted you approve." He
smiled, showing off his dimples.

Bethanny sighed in appreciation.

"If you've finished enjoying the view, I
believe it's my turn," he whispered softly as he lithely stepped
toward her, his amber eyes never leaving hers.

"For?" Bethanny asked, her attention arrested
by the way his shoulders swayed when he walked, the way his stomach
tensed when she reached out and touched the smooth and firm, warm
skin.

"To enjoy the view." He pulled her from her
sitting position on the bed. Without a word, he tugged on the sash
behind her, loosening the fabric so that it was no longer tight,
but flowing around her waist. At first, he slid each button through
with unhurried motions. "I hate buttons." He swore after a moment.
"You're never to wear them again," he pleaded impatiently before
tugging on the fabric and sending the offending objects scattering
along the floor.

Bethanny shot him an irritated glare. She had
rather liked that dress.

"I'll make up for it, I promise," Graham
assured with a wicked grin as he removed her gown from her
shoulders and let it pool to the ground in a whisper of silk.

"Bethanny," he whispered as he bent and
kissed her bare shoulder. His breath tickled her flesh all while
sending shivers of desire along her body. Silently, he tugged on
the strings of her corset, and quicker than her maid had ever
accomplished the task, had it loosened enough to be removed.

"Don't be afraid," he assured her as she
clung to the French-designed garment.

Taking a deep breath, she raised her arms and
allowed Graham to pull it over her head.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he took in the
sight of her, fierce emotion clouding his gaze as he placed a
delicate kiss at her heart.

She lifted her hands and placed them at his
head, tugging at his dark hair and exhaling softly as he turned so
that his ear was placed against her heart.

Graham lifted his head and all but attacked
her lips, his hands immediately going to her hair, loosening it
from its bindings.

She heard the clatter of pins hitting the
floor.

Joining the buttons.

However, that was the last coherent thought
she was able to pull from her mind as Graham's hands roamed her
back, deftly eliminating the remaining clothing that separated
them.

With a grace she'd never be able to attain,
Graham had expertly laid her out on the mattress, joining her and
warming her, all while overwhelming her senses.

And as the night wore on, Bethanny discovered
all the knowledge she had lacked, and, by far, experience was the
best teacher.

Especially when one's teacher was her
husband.

Graham awoke with the sweet scent of
rosewater tickling his senses.

And his nose.

Opening his eyes, he turned slightly, only to
encounter his wife's unclad form pressed against him in the most
provocative manner imaginable.

And Graham had always had a very active
imagination.

His nose twitched again as he gently brushed
away a few strands of her glorious mane that were tickling his
face.

Biting back a groan of desire, he relaxed and
simply gazed at his sleeping beauty.

Heaven knew, after last night she needed her
rest.

He
needed his rest.

After all, no one would disturb them for
days, weeks even.

He might be able to stretch it for a few
months, if luck were on his side.