Married in Haste (14 page)

It was embarrassing to see to her needs with him sitting on the other side of the screen, listening to her every move. She used tooth powder and then wiped her mouth with a fresh linen towel. Her hair was a tangled mess. She used her fingers to comb it since her silver brush set was on the vanity across the room.

Tess pinched her cheeks for color. She was sure she looked as haggard as she felt. Worse, she’d muddled everything and probably made a fool of herself. If only she could remember!

At last, she could postpone facing him no longer. She stepped out from behind the screen.

He still sat in the chair where she’d left him. His features in the flickering light could have been carved from stone. She squared her shoulders bravely, wondering what to say.

No sound marred the silence between them, not even the ticking of a clock.

She was the first to break the silence. “The wedding party is over.” The words sounded stupid.

“It ended several hours ago,” he replied without emotion.

“The guests left early?”

“It’s two or three hours before dawn. The party lasted a good long while.”

She didn’t remember when she’d fallen asleep, but it had still been daylight. “Have you been sitting in that chair for hours?” Her voice squeaked on the last word, betraying her fear. She cleared her throat and continued, “No wonder you don’t seem pleased with me. You could have used one of the other bedrooms—”

“Tess, come here.”

The quiet command almost made her heart stop. She eyed the brandy decanter. It appeared half-empty.

Neil grew boisterous when he drank. Obviously, Brenn didn’t. In fact, he seemed almost deadly calm.

“Come here, Tess,” he repeated in a deep, silky voice.

She took a first hesitant step in his direction. Her feet felt like iron weights. One step. Two steps.

She stopped.

He set the brandy snifter on the table. “Not there, Tess. I want you here, in front of me.”

She licked suddenly dry lips. He seemed a far cry from the man she’d married.

“Here, Tess.” He pointed to a space on the carpet before him.

She moved forward. He leaned back in the chair, watching her, waiting. She stopped where he’d indicated. Her toes were no less than six inches from the edge of his chair, his legs on either side of her.

“Undress.”

She gasped, not certain she’d heard him correctly.

“Undress,” he repeated calmly and then added with a slight twist to his lips, “Tess.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“I am.”

“But…I—I…” She paused, at a loss for words.

“I’m your husband. Undress.”

She considered defying him. Considered stamping her foot in childish rebellion or bolting from the room.

And yet, there was something deliciously sinful in his command, too.

Nor was she one to cry coward.

She tossed back her hair. Then, her movements unsteady, she reached behind her and started to finish unlacing her dress. He didn’t offer to help. Instead, he watched, his face expressionless.

Her fingers shook as she drew out the last of the laces. The bodice of her dress loosened.

Their gazes met.

She knew what he wanted.

Almost defiantly, she shrugged and let the bodice slip down over her breasts. He didn’t move. She drew a deep breath, and the lavender satin fell to the floor, pooling around her feet.

No man had ever seen her thus. A part of her felt shame, while another part, deep inside, experienced a surge of pride. She was a beautiful woman. Poems had been written about her. Men had scurried to do her bidding. Women were jealous.

But Brenn Owen, the earl of Merton, her husband, didn’t blink.

Worse, her nipples tightened and pressed against the thin material of her chemise. She wore little else but her petticoat and stockings. Her face burned with the heat of a blush, but she refused to cover herself. It was a war of wills now, a test.

And she was winning.

Where before there had been blankness in his eyes, there was now hunger—and the watchful wariness of a wolf at bay.

Conscious that he followed her every move, she brought her hair forward to cover her breasts. She then slid her hand under the strap of her low-cut chemise and pushed down first one, then the other. It took courage—and a sense that her time had come, that she was now on a path that every woman had to travel to pass from girlhood to womanhood—for her to pull the material down to her waist. Behind the curtain of her hair, her nipples tightened so hard they hurt.

Brenn did not move. “Go on.”

“You want to see me completely humbled, don’t you?” she snapped waspishly. It wasn’t right that her body shivered with anticipation, with excitement, and he could be so calm.

Almost angrily, she pulled at the ribbon tapes fastening her petticoat to her chemise. First one, then another and another until she’d come to the last. With a dramatic gesture she untied it and her petticoat and chemise dropped to the floor over her dress.

She stood before him naked, save for her white silk hose tied at the knee.

She felt ridiculous. It took all her courage to not cover the most intimate part of her body with her hands, to not run and hide.

The silence between them was unbearable. It taunted both of them.

She lifted her chin, refusing to be a coward. “Are you happy now?” she goaded him. “Have you looked your fill? Here.” She flipped her hair back, exposing her breasts. “Now you see all of me.”

His answer was a low, deep growl. He shot up out of the chair, the movement so swift, she didn’t have time to react. His arms wrapped around her. The buttons and seams of his clothes scratched her skin.

His lips covered hers.

She had thought his previous kisses passionate but this one was carnal, devouring, hungry…and she kissed him back, unsure of what else to do in the sensual onslaught. He tasted of brandy and yet there was the hint of something, something unique to him alone. She opened herself to him, wanting more.

His tongue teased hers. With a happy sigh, she received the intimacy. His hands cupped her buttocks and pressed her to him even as he lifted her and began walking toward the bed. He broke the kiss.

She shook her head in an attempt to clear her befuddled senses. But before she could, he laid her on the bed. The cotton bedclothes felt smooth against her skin. And then he covered one nipple with his mouth.

“Brenn!” The word burst out of her in surprise. The heat of his mouth against her flesh made her skin tingle all the way to the woman’s part of her.

Who could have imagined this? He licked and gently pulled and she felt his touch down in the deepest, most secret parts. Yet when he started to draw back, she buried her fingers in his thick, dark hair and brought him back.

His rough, masculine hands traced the line of her body, down the curve of her waist, over her hipbone.

Her legs had turned to jelly. Instinctively, she parted them and felt his hand boldly cover her. His fingers caressed her intimately.

Dear Lord, she would die from the pleasure of it! She gasped. She moaned. She feared it; she craved it.

His lips sought her mouth again, smothering the small sounds she was making. This is too much! she thought. She shouldn’t—he must stop—she never wanted him to stop!

Her body trembled beneath his touch. She hugged him close, afraid that she would fly straight up through to the ceiling if she ever let go of him.

Him. The world had ceased to exist and there was only him. If he had been a demon prince, he could have possessed her soul at that moment and she would have done naught to stop him.

Abruptly, he slipped from her arms. She cried out and opened her eyes.

“Shhh,” he whispered and pulled his shirt over his head. He threw it aside. The planes of his hard chest were beautiful in the candlelight. He was her prince. Beautiful, bold, masculine.

His fingers unbuttoned his breeches and then he pushed them down and Tess had her first glimpse of a fully aroused male. She quickly averted her eyes, embarrassed. Her hands moved to modestly cover her body.

He captured her hands and held them down by either side of her head. “Tess, look at me.”

Her body still humming from the impact of his touch, she could not refuse anything he said. She opened her eyes.

His expression fierce, he commanded softly, “Don’t hide yourself from me. I am your husband. I and no other.”

Wide-eyed, Tess nodded.

“Touch me.” He said the command in the barest whisper.

Almost mesmerized, she reached out to brush her hand against what was most surely the stick Leah had described. But it didn’t look like any stick. It didn’t feel like one either. It was hard, and yet softer than baby’s skin.

When she started to pull away, he captured her hand and brought it back. He curled her fingers around him. “Hold me, Tess.”

She couldn’t let go.

He leaned forward and kissed her breast, her collarbone, the corner of her mouth. Nuzzling her ear, he said, “Stroke me.”

She didn’t know what he wanted! She felt a second’s panic and then his hand covered hers. He began teaching her a movement, a way he liked to be touched.

“That’s the way, Tess. Gentle, lass. But firm.” His voice hummed through her body, only heightening her awareness.

When he felt she had it right, his hand left hers. It slid down her stomach. His fingers touched her and began moving to the same rhythm.

At his first touch, a quiver of sensation shot through Tess and then it continued, wave after wave. She caught herself pressing against his hand, her body arching up to meet him.

His lips came down on her breast and she thought she would die from ecstasy. Nothing had prepared her for this. Sweet, sweet copulation!

“Tess.” Her name on his lips sounded like a benediction.

He moved, rising up over her. She let go of him. He shifted and settled himself between her legs. They fit very well together that way, her breasts against his chest, her legs around his hips. It wasn’t uncomfortable at all.

But she missed his touch. Deep inside of her, she ached for something she didn’t know. But he knew. He knew.

He kissed the lobe of her ear. “After tonight, Tess, there will be no others. Just the two of us.” He kissed the sensitive skin under her jawline. His lips nibbled their way down the curve of her neck.

She whispered his name.

He smiled against her skin. She could feel the movement. She laughed at the feel of his rough whiskers.

“Tickle?” he asked.

“Yes.”

His tongue circled her nipple. She laughed, instinctively drawing her legs up. The action positioned him even more intimately against her. He rubbed her with his length.

Passion burned in her blood. She began moving, stroking herself against his body.

“Ah, Tess,” he whispered. “You are so perfect.”

“Yes, perfect,” she repeated dreamily. This was all so wondrously perfect.

“I can’t wait to be in you.” His voice sound hoarse with a pent-up need that mirrored her own.

Sweet, sweet copulation. I take my lover in to me.

His hands slipped under her hips. He lifted her up. In one smooth, fluid movement, he plunged himself deep into her body!

Pain stabbed her.

But worse was the shock. She cried out, digging her heels into the mattress, trying to move away from him.

His weight came down on her, pinning her in place, his eyes bright with surprise. “You’re a virgin.”

Chapter Eight

“Of course,” Tess answered. “What had you expected?”

“I thought you and Draycutt had—” Brenn broke off.

“You thought Captain Draycutt and I had what?” she prodded. He was still inside her but the pain had passed. It almost felt…comfortable. Her heartbeat steadied.

Brenn opened his mouth. Words didn’t come out. A lock of his hair had fallen over one eye. He pushed it back, shifting his weight, and she could feel the movement of his body deep within her.

It tickled; it did more than tickle. She moved, uncertain.

His reaction was instantaneous. “Tess, hold still,” he warned, “or we shall be over before we’ve begun.”

“We aren’t finished yet?” She panicked. She wanted to toss him over the side of the bed and run.

He must have sensed the direction of her thoughts. Capturing her hands, he pressed her back on the bed.

“No, we aren’t finished. The best is yet to come.”

She didn’t know if she believed him. Her muscles around him involuntarily tightened.

His breath caught in his throat. “Ah, Tess, you are incredible.” He began moving, slowly, carefully.

“Relax. Open to me, love,” he commanded softly.

Love.

There was that word.

He kissed the crook of her neck, the curve of her ear, whispering words of love to her. She felt herself respond. The hot, swirling sensations he’d inspired began to build again inside her.

He pushed himself in deeper.

His voice rumbled through her, telling her how beautiful she was, how much he wanted her, how he had to have her. She could hear her own heart beating in her ears and the next time he thrust, she raised her hips to meet him.

“You’re mine,” he whispered. “Mine.”

Yes, his, her body echoed. His, his, his. His to do as he wished; his to guide and direct; his to command.

She responded to him. Only to him.

He repeated her name over and over as if just as lost in the heady whirl of passion as herself. Tess clung to him, having no choice but to trust that he knew what she needed, what she wanted, better than herself.

The movements of his body became more demanding. And inside her she felt a peak building. She strained to reach it, feeling him push her higher and higher and higher—

Suddenly she was there! A shooting star. Chinese fireworks. A blaze of light.

He buried himself deep within her, crying out as if caught by surprise. His seed spilled into her; her senses were full of him.

And then she felt herself fall to the earth.

He collapsed, drained. His heart pounded against her chest. “It was good. So damn good,” he whispered to himself.

Yes, it had been good.