The Bad Luck Wedding Night, Bad Luck Wedding series #5 (Bad Luck Abroad trilogy) (4 page)

So Nick put his best effort into the kiss, which in return stoked the fires of his own hunger. He kissed her deeply, his tongue seeking, exploring, demanding. She tasted of brandy and promise, and the sweetness of it exploded through his senses. The taste combined with the heady, intoxicating scent of arousal that permeated the air and interfered with reason, leaving him vulnerable to the driving force of his own instincts.

She was his wife. Legally and morally. Nothing stood in the way of making her his mate. Nothing but the thin barrier of flesh that was her final defense.

Nick knew a fierce, primal urge to conquer, to claim, and he had to fight for the will to slow down.

He lay her back against the mattress, and the whispered sound of his name on her lips shuddered through him. A haze of desire surrounded him, thicker and hungrier than any he'd known before. He tugged at the belt of her dressing gown until the knot slipped free and emerald lace slid away to reveal a neckline that plunged to a deep vee between the perfect mounds of her breasts.

Nick gritted his teeth against a groan. Slow down. Don't scare her. Get control of yourself. Slow down before you go off like a virgin yourself.

He swallowed hard, then reached for the trailing edge of a silver satin ribbon. With one slow tug, the bow disappeared, fabric parted, and skin was revealed.

"Sarah," he said hoarsely. Her breasts were exquisite: high and gently rounded and crested by nipples that were pert and pink and perfect. Without stopping to think, he lowered his head and licked first one proud tip, then the other.

Her quick gasp filled her lungs with air and lifted her toward him. Nick took it as an invitation, whether she meant it as one or not. He knew he had to taste her or die.

He took her in his mouth and began to suckle, stroking his rough tongue across the downy texture of her nipple. Hazy heat gathered force within him, spiraling downward, filling his loins to near bursting.

Even as he realized she'd gone stiff in his arms.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, her voice a reedy squeak as she pushed against his shoulders. "Nick, stop it!"

Silently groaning, Nick released her and looked up. Her eyes were wide and stormy, her color high. He struggled to ignore the pounding of his heart and the twisting ache in his loins as he forced a smile and soothed her. "Relax, lass. 'Tis all right. All is well. I'll slow down. It may kill me, but I'll slow down."

She flattened her palms against his chest and shoved. "I didn't say slow down. I said stop."

"Stop?"

"Yes, stop!"

Damnation.
Grimacing, Nick rolled over onto his back and counted to ten as he tried to catch his breath. The lass was work. He bent one knee, then reached down and adjusted his trousers, which at the moment felt at least ten sizes too small. At that, his bride let out another affronted gasp, and this time he rolled his eyes before flinging his arm up to cover them.

He heard her scramble and assumed she was setting her nightgown to rights. His main concern at the moment, however, was wrestling his raging body back under control.

A full minute passed while the only sound in the room was the ragged noise of his breathing and the nervous scratch of Sarah's nails against the bed coverings. Then she surprised him by asking, "That was wrong of me, wasn't it?"

He cocked one eye open and peered out from beneath his arm.

She held her arms crossed over her chest and wore both a sickly smile and an apple blush. "Mama told me that might happen, but it took me by surprise. I guess I didn't really believe..."

When her voice trailed off, Nick sighed. Maybe he
should
give her more time. "Are you still ready for a chess match?"

After a wistful gaze toward the game table in one corner of the room, she shook her head. Swallowing bravely, she declared, "No, I must do my duty."

Damnation.
He'd married a martyr.

It did not bode well for the immediate future. "Sarah, this might be easier if you'd take a different approach. Lovemaking need not be a 'duty.' "

Hope shone in the whisky eyes she turned his way. "I thought we had to do it. I thought it was a rule. Do you not want to do it, either?"

"Of course I want to do it. I'm a healthy, eighteen-year-old man. I
always
want to do it."

"Oh."

He was trying to be patient and understanding, but the fact was, her crestfallen expression annoyed him. Were all virgins this ridiculous, or was he just lucky?

She plucked at a loose thread on the counterpane. "So I guess that means you've done it before?"

"What kind of question is that? You're not supposed to ask me about the women I've had."

Her chin came up. "Well, how should I know that? Where's the book of rules? Someone forgot to give it to me. All I know is what my mother told me, and in all honesty I found it less than encouraging. The entire business seems messy and embarrassing. Unnatural."

"Unnatural!" Nick wanted to take her and shake her. But since he wanted to take her more, he forced himself to stay calm. "Sarah, sex is the most natural thing in the world. What's unnatural is how you're acting about it. I dinna know what your mother told you, but sex is wonderful. It is the best thing in the whole world. Sarah, you'll think you've died and gone to heaven."

"I will?"

"Trust me."

Her somber regard told him he asked for a lot As she slipped into her dressing gown, rose from the bed, and crossed the room to gaze outside the window, Nick was reminded that this marriage of theirs was being built on shaky ground. She didn't trust him, that much was obvious. And to be honest, Nick wasn't certain she loved him all that deeply, either. He thought it more likely that Sarah Simpson Ross was in love with the idea of love. And weddings. The girl truly loved all the preparations that went along with weddings.

Obviously, that attraction didn't extend to the wedding night.

Hence, the current problem. The idea of the wedding night was what had made him listen when she brought up the idea of a wedding to begin with. He'd married her because his body craved hers like a child craves candy, and because Sarah could give him the treasure he'd lost—a family.

He missed his family desperately. He missed belonging. When he'd stormed away from Rowanclere Castle upon learning he wasn't John and Fiona Ross's blood son but the unwanted offspring of the third marquess of Weston, he had yet to realize the value of what he was throwing away. Two years of being alone had taught him the lesson, though not until it was too late. Now the Rosses were dead, and the only family he had was the one born this day at the altar of St. Paul's chinch.

So he'd damned well better take good care of this brand-new family tonight. He'd damned well better take good care of Sarah.

"Sarah, come back to bed. I give you my word I will do my very best to make our loving good for you."

"Do you think we'll have a happy marriage, Nick?"

"I do," he replied, believing it. If they could just get it started.

"You've been good to me so far, letting me plan the wedding of my dreams, buying property near town so I can still be close to my mama and my friends. I know you're a good man at heart. All your actions have proven it. It's just that... well..." She turned to face him. "I'm afraid."

"'Tis nothing to be afraid of, lass. I promise. I won't hurt you." He held out his hand to her. "Come here. Be my wife."

She took two steps toward him, then stopped. "I like the kissing part."

"I know. I shall do extra kissing."

"That's considerate. Thank you. I was hoping you'd be a considerate... um..."

"Lover," he supplied, his mouth lifting in a grin as he began to relax and get back into the spirit of things. "I promise I'll be a very, very considerate lover."

With that, he pulled her into his arms and took her mouth in a long, deep kiss. He kissed her breathless. He kissed her senseless. He kissed her until she moaned with need. Then and only then did he reach for the fastenings on her gown and leisurely strip her naked.

Beautiful. So very beautiful. Now Nick was the one who went breathless, his mouth bone-dry. His gaze swept over her, lingering on the triangle of golden curls at the juncture of her thighs.

His erection was as hard as the ancient stone walls of Glencoultran Castle. It took every bit of his self-control not to turn it loose on her right there and then.

Slow... slow... slow. The words drummed like a mantra through his mind. His fingers fanned out and he circled her nipple with the palm of his hand for what seemed like forever until she melted against him. Her whimpers of pleasure encouraged him and stoked the fire of his own desire.

Nick groaned low in his throat. He badly wanted to replace his hand with his mouth, but having suffered the consequences of that once already tonight, he resisted. He would seduce her with the touch of his hands alone and save the tasting for later.

He battled against the urgent demand for release throbbing in his loins as he skimmed his hand across the silken skin of her belly and lower, over soft curls and delicate flesh. The scent of arousal perfumed the air, and she stirred restlessly, needily. He slipped his hand between her thighs and found her hot and damp.

But far from ready.

She froze like a corpse. "What are you doing?"

Damnation, not again.
She tried to wriggle away from him, but Nick restrained her, panting, "Sarah, stay with me here, trust me."

"But you have your finger... you're not supposed to use your finger. You're supposed to use your Rod of Steel."

Rod of Steel? Did she mean... ? Good Lord.

"I know what I'm supposed to do," Nick snapped. "Relax. You'll like this."

"Like it? Are you crazy?"

"I'm beginning to think so, aye." The girl truly knew how to kill a passionate mood. "You have to trust me."

"I'm trying, but... oh."

He dragged his finger out of her tight, hot sheath, then slowly slid it back in, stretching her, working her, readying a way for him. It was killing him. His body was telling him to climb on and have at it. His mind knew that way lay disaster.

Right now it was a toss-up which part of him would win.

She'd gone still again, her eyes squeezed shut, and Nick took the opportunity to rid himself of his trousers. He saw her mouth begin to move, and as he leaned down to kiss her, he made sense of her soft murmuring.

"Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before—"

"Praying?" he snapped, jerking away from her and rising up, straddling her hips. "You're praying?"

She didn't answer. She'd opened her eyes. They were round and wide and gazing in horror at his manhood.

Nick felt himself start to shrink. His tongue returned to the language of his youth. "Halie blude. What hae ye done to me?"

"Th-the-the Rod of Steel," she stammered out, locking her ankles. "It frightens me."

Passion of a different type burned through Nick's blood. "Well, ye need nae worry. He's nae match for the Evil Eye. Ye should just go ahead and emasculate me. Cut him off and be done with it. And to think whorehouses charge a premium for virgins! Some men must be gluttons for punishment."

In one smooth motion, Nick rolled off the bed. As he bent to retrieve his clothing from the floor, Sarah sat up and grabbed his wrist. "No, Nick. I'm sorry. Please, come back to bed. I trust you. I do. I want to be your wife."

Nick stared down at the slim, graceful fingers encircling his arm. It was the first time she'd touched him of her own volition since he'd entered the room, and like a dog to a bone, he snapped to attention. The instinct to mate gnawed at him. He gritted his teeth and hung onto his patience by a thread, "Ye must mean it this time, Sarah. If I come to ye again, I'll not have it in me to leave."

She sounded as if she had a noose around her neck as she responded, "I understand."

Nick's doubts drowned beneath a tidal wave of lust when she slowly, deliberately released her ankles and spread her legs.

He joined her in their marriage bed and positioned himself above her. He knew he should wait, knew he should lull her with his kisses first, again, but at the first sweet, soft brush of her mound against the blunt head of his erection, he couldn't help but ease inside her.

Sarah flinched.

"It's all right, lass," he soothed, wanting desperately to believe it. She was tight and dry and the going was rough, but she felt so good, pure heaven on earth. Need was a raging beast inside him. Over the roaring in his ears, he heard her whimpers. He gritted his teeth, seeking the last vestiges of his control to take it slow. Seeking, but not finding. "Ah, Sarah, I've got to... I canna stop."

He bumped against the barrier. It failed to give. He flexed his hips, increasing the pressure. Her whimpers escalated to cries. The obstacle held strong.

Panic joined the passion barreling through him. He was hurting her. He'd promised he wouldn't. But he couldn't slow down. He couldn't stop.

His climax was upon him.

Nick yanked from her body just as she began to scream and his seed began to spurt.