Page 29 of Courting the Duke (Reimagined Regency #2)

Serena retrieved her piccolo case from her trunk in her new bed chamber at Hoxton House.

The tastefully decorated rooms were accented in gold and pale blues, a step up from her humble room at Clarkingham Manor.

Hoxton had ordered her father’s painting of him and his mother to be placed in their joint sitting room, a gift that still sent grateful tears to her eyes.

She moved into the elegant room, where a silk blue settee was situated in front of a French rococo fireplace mantel.

An hour had passed since she’d left the drawing room after dinner, accompanied by Lady Imogene, to ready herself for the wedding night.

She opened the case and took out her piccolo.

Lady Imogene had rightly assumed that nobody had informed Serena of her wifely duties, and with great detail and much blushing on both their parts, the interview had finally ended.

She lifted the instrument and adjusted the well-worn wood in her hand.

Music helped her wrangle her nerves, and she began to play a jaunty tune, her feet moving in time to the music.

Hoxton’s impromptu dance in the ballroom still sent a smile to her mouth.

He’d been charming throughout the tour, and his impassioned kisses still ignited her blood.

The open curtains beautifully framed the summer sunset, her own image reflected in the glass.

Surely, he hadn’t forsaken her? She pushed the silly thought away.

Her slippers slid across the polished wooden floors, and the skirt of her green robe swayed to and fro.

He promised to come to her, and she had no reason to doubt him, save her own insecurities.

She caught a flash of movement and spun around to find him standing a few feet from her.

He’d donned a black banyan, and his usually unruly hair was combed back.

She lowered the instrument and smiled at him, pleased that her worries had been for naught. “Hoxton, you are here.”

“My humblest apologies for being tardy.” He moved closer to her side, a touch of high color to his cheeks. “The magistrate found a dying hawk on her nest and brought the birds to Hoxton for care.”

“By dying, I assume she didn’t survive?” Serena clutched at her instrument and studied his saddened expression. He had a keen sensitivity to the birds, and she sensed he felt each of their losses.

“Sadly, the hawk perished before the magistrate’s arrival.

” He frowned before a hopeful smile curved his mouth.

Despite the trauma in his life, he had an optimistic outlook, which added to his appeal.

“The eggs are viable, or at least Mulligan is confident they are. We have a hen that will sit on the nest until the chicks hatch. Of course, we are unsure when or if that will ever happen.”

“Nature will make that decision.” She stared up into his face, unsure what to say or do next. While she wanted him to kiss her, it seemed forward to ask him to do so. Perhaps…she could kiss him?

Expectation rested in the air between them, thrilling yet also heavy with uncertainty. This was new to her, but she couldn’t know if he had been with other women, which she assumed he had, as gentlemen were allowed to be promiscuous.

“You play the piccolo well.” Hoxton ran his finger over the wood of the instrument still clutched in her palm, uncertainty in his regard. Their hands connected, and she felt his touch all the way to the tips of her toes.

“You are familiar with the instrument? Most people think it is a flute.” Serena tried to still her rapidly beating heart. “As you can see, I use it often. A pianoforte is rather cumbersome to carry around.”

“I can see how that would be a problem.” He grinned at her quip, his palm moving over hers to clasp her hand. His gaze locked with hers, and need sparked between them. “You look lovely in green.”

“Thank you.” She swayed in his direction, the desire to kiss him growing stronger until she caught herself. According to the church, it wasn’t proper for a lady to instigate intimacies. Except she desperately wanted to. “Roxanne thought it flattered my coloring.”

“Roxanne is correct.” Hoxton slipped his hand behind her neck, his fingers moving into the hair braided down her back. His darkened gaze drifted to her face in an intimate sweep, and the rise and fall of his chest became more pronounced. “It would seem she was right about many things.”

Dare she ask him to clarify his statement or leave well enough alone?

He leaned down and placed a kiss on her lips, his mouth exploring her eager one.

Serena slid her hands up his lapels and gasped an instant later when he winced and pulled back. Mortified, she had forgotten she still held the piccolo until the sharp end poked him in the neck. “Hoxton, are you hurt?”

“Perhaps we should put that back in its case?” Amused eyes met hers. “Unless you were hinting at something?”

“Egad, no.” A blush raced along her cheeks at her bold denial. She stepped back and moved to the case on the settee. Opening the lid, she nestled the instrument in its blue velvet bed. “It was an accident. I swear.”

“I was merely teasing you.” He held out his hand to her in invitation.

“I know.” A thrill raced along Serena’s nerves, and she eagerly laid her fingers in his palm.

He led her through the bedchamber door and closed it behind them.

Solid arms slipped around her waist. Every masculine inch of him pulled at her senses, and she rose onto her toes while looping one wrist around his neck.

The shaky start to her evening began to fade.

“Now, where were we?” A reassuring smile curved his lips, and those adorable dimples showed in his cheeks.

Capable fingers unfastened her green robe, peeling it off her shoulders to expose her linen night rail.

Sultry eyes skimmed her chest, hidden by the high neckline.

While thin and delicate, the gown was modest.

“I believe you were kissing me.” With a squeal of surprise, she tightened her grip on his neck, laughing as he palmed her bottom and lifted her bodily off the floor.

“I believe I was.” He settled her on the mattress and pressed a kiss to her mouth before he stood to remove his banyan, revealing a white nightshirt. The neckline exposed a wide chest covered in dark hair.

She scooted over to allow him room to join her as she drank in the sight of his tall frame.

Licking her lips, she rose onto her elbow.

The ribbon under her neck pulled taut, and she tugged at it in response.

The delicate fabric made a horrible rending noise, and a rush of air touched her collarbone as the bodice fell to the side.

“Well, that is unfortunate,” she said, embarrassed by her clumsiness.

Hoxton lay beside her, his weight pulling her closer to him. Lips quirked, he rested his head on one palm and used his free hand to push down the fabric at her neckline. The delicate silk tore a bit more. “I beg to differ. It is very accommodating.”

“It would appear so.” It was difficult to concentrate on anything but the promise of his touch. Imogene’s descriptive narrative rushed back into her head, and she closed her eyes, eager to experience passion’s embrace.

Strong fingers glided up her side to settle under her breasts. The warmth of his body and the press of his mouth along her jawline sent goosebumps up and down her arms. “You look very appealing in lace and linen.”

“Thank you.” Serena resisted the urge to right the gown. Modesty warred with need. He was her husband, and his eagerness to bed her was flattering considering she had thought the worst of him for not joining her sooner.

Firm lips skipped over hers, each delicious sweep of his mouth eroding her earlier trepidation. He leaned over her, and she lifted her knee, the gown sliding up her leg. One powerful hand drifted over her hip until he found his way beneath the fabric. “You would be tempting in sackcloth and soot.”

“That is laying it on a bit thick.” She laughed at the teasing words spoken between sultry kisses.

Her breath caught as he spread kisses down the arch of her neck, his skillful mouth seeking the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulders. “You wound me with your skepticism. Do you doubt my desire for you?” he asked.

“No, nor do I deny mine for you.” That she was sure of. Need ignited a flame in her core. He had a habit of reading her mind and touched her in places she’d only dreamed about being touched. She and this generous man were bound for life.

“Excellent.” Hoxton pulled the white fabric off her arm, baring one breast. Eager eyes caught hers as he traveled ever downward, tongue flicking around her nipple before drawing it into his mouth.

The need in her blood increased. This was her wedding night, and she’d remember it forever. She shrugged off the linen from her other shoulder, and the fabric fell to her waist. Disgraceful or not, she ached to be skin to skin with him.

His hand blazed a path under the night rail.

Love and passion continued to bloom inside her heart. Serena lifted her hips to further loosen the fabric, her movements pressing her breasts tighter to his mouth. He sucked on her nipple, and she cried out, her entire body alert to her growing need.

Skilled fingers found their way to the juncture of her thighs. She pushed her knee back to grant him greater access, shameless in her need. The instant he touched the nub between her legs, the flicker turned into a flame.

“That is very pleasant.” Serena struggled to get the words out of her tight throat. Sensations bombarded her cunny, and she gladly welcomed the siege. “Would I be too forward if I asked you to keep touching me like that?”

He lifted his head, liquid eyes stark with need. With a charming smile, he nodded. “If that is your wish.”

Serena looped an arm around his neck and brought his mouth to hers.

She kissed him without restraint, her tongue darting into his mouth.

Imogene had told her that coupling could be pleasant and she should allow herself to enjoy the act.

Hoxton slanted his lips, the silky length of his tongue dueling with hers.

She loved his playful manner, nervousness no longer a concern to her.

A strong arm pulled her down to his chest, and he flipped her onto her back. With a breathy sigh, she stared up at him and stretched her arms over her head, aching for him to pay homage to her breasts once more.

“Would I be too forward if I removed this gown from your person?” The husky timbre of his voice spoke of his growing passion.

She couldn’t deny him any more than she could deny herself. “If that is your wish.”

“It is my greatest wish.” Smoky eyes locked with hers as he tugged the gown off her hips, leaving her naked.

Instinct told her to cover herself, but she forced herself to ignore the oddity of being exposed to anyone, especially a man. As her husband, they would share many more intimacies over their lifetime. The thought warmed her almost as much as his kisses. “I would ask the same of you.”

“If that is your wish.” Hoxton stripped his nightshirt, exposing the thick muscles of his chest and shoulders.

She allowed her gaze to drift down his body, her face flaming at the sight of his arousal.

Lean muscled thighs covered in dark hair spread on the mattress.

A roped scar ran along his shin to his ankle.

Given the thickness of the scar, he had to have been in excruciating pain.

He angled her chin and lowered his head, his mouth seeking hers while he returned to stroking the swollen nub at the cleft of her thighs.

Sensations built on top of each other, and with each sweep of his mouth on hers, she rolled her hips.

He inserted a finger inside her, and she latched onto it with her inner muscles.

Soon, he would make her his wife, filling her with his cock. Lady Agatha had warned Roxanne and Serena dozens of times about the dangers of lust. Thus far, all of that was a lie. She was aware that coupling wouldn’t be without pain. It was expected the first time.

Her husband was seeing to her needs first, and she was grateful for his generosity.

The pleasure in her core increased until she rolled her head on the pillow, her hips grinding under his gifted hand.

She was the most fortunate woman to find such a generous man.

The dam broke as her cunny erupted with pleasure.

Back arched, she shook from its force, her heels digging into the mattress.

Eyes closed from sheer euphoria, she collapsed back onto the bed and tried to catch her breath.

Hoxton rolled over her until they were chest to chest, his cock cradled against her cunny. Her fingers skimmed the muscles of his back, the tips exploring the slick sinew. She flattened her palms on his lower back, enjoying the contrasting texture of firm and soft.

“I want you, Serena.”

“I know.” She smiled up at him before lifting her head and kissing him.

“You are becoming as vain as Rapscallion.” Amused eyes met hers. “Do I need to sing you a ditty?”

Lowering her voice, she parroted Rapscallion. “Serena is a pretty bird.” In that moment, he made her feel like the most beautiful woman alive.

“A very pretty bird. The prettiest and very desirable.” Kissing her once more, he guided his cock into her.

A new excitement took hold, not from passion but intimacy.

She had known that she loved him before, but now she was deeply, hopelessly in love with her husband.

It was exhilarating yet bittersweet. She prayed one day he could return her affections.

Regardless, she had vowed to stand by his side through the good and the bad.

He was her husband, her friend, and one day, she hoped his confidant.

It would take time and patience for him to truly trust her, and she had all the patience in the world when it came to him.