Page 23 of Ruby in the Rough (Heiress #4)

Chapter

Twenty-Three

L ater that evening, after a day of horse riding and hunting on the estate before the house party headed back to London, Christian braced himself for the night to come. Just as he had each night since he’d married Cordelia three days before.

So far he’d managed to keep from consummating the marriage, but his desire for her could only hold for so long, and he’d ached one night too many and knew he could no longer deny her.

That he was unaccountably nervous made little sense. It was not as if he were some green lad on the cusp of manhood, preparing to bed a woman for the first time.

It was unlike him to be so unsettled.

He took a long soak in the bath—perhaps longer than necessary—the tub positioned before the fire that warmed his otherwise cool bedchamber. The days were warm, but the sizeable stone house held a certain chill, and the heat of the flames eased the knot in his shoulders.

He stilled when the connecting door that led to his wife’s bedchamber slowly opened, and Cordelia peeked around it cautiously. The moment he saw her, the heat in his belly flared anew and he knew he could not deny her this night.

Her golden hair, usually pinned in curls and threaded with ribbons, now hung loose about her shoulders, brushing her back in gleaming waves. She wore only a pale-blue shawl and shift, the silk of her slippers whispering against the floor as she stepped forward.

He could see the delicate pebbling of her nipples beneath the sheer fabric and steeled himself for calm, although his body had other ideas entirely.

He shifted in the bath, adjusting himself beneath the water. God help him if she saw just how much he desired her. If she knew the extent of his craving, she would hold him in the palm of her hand.

And he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to be there.

Marriage—especially to a woman he hadn’t planned to court—was not where he thought this house party would lead. Yet here he was, at the end of it and wed to one of his guests.

"I didn’t know you were bathing. Shall I come back later?" She hovered near the door, twisting her hands in front of her.

Was she as nervous as he was?

"No, come in," he said, gesturing.

She stepped inside and quietly shut the door. To his surprise, she pulled a small stool beside the bath and sat. Then, after a beat of hesitation, she rolled up the sleeve of her gown and reached into the water to retrieve the lavender soap.

"Would you like me to wash your back?"

The offer did not repulse him. Quite the opposite in fact, and without words, he leaned forward to grant her access. He sighed at the first touch of her fingers as they began to lather suds across his skin.

It wasn’t lost on him that she now lived in the rooms adjoining his. Rooms his mother once occupied. He hadn’t set foot in them in years.

"You may do whatever you like with your room," he said quietly. "It’s yours now. To decorate or alter as you see fit."

Her hand paused briefly before continuing.

The feel of her fingers gliding across his back sent a hot pulse through his core. He gripped the edge of the tub to stop himself from pulling her into the water right then and there.

She smiled faintly, and he could tell she wanted to say something. But nerves had clearly tied her tongue.

"Is there something you wish to say, Cordelia?" he prompted. "I will not bite." Not yet, at least. That dark and delicious thought could be for later.

Her gaze dropped to where the water did little to hide the evidence of his arousal and her eyes widened.

Christian did not attempt to hide himself.

They had slept together before, it wasn’t anything she had not seen, or had in her mouth, but the sight of her nervous, unsure made him long for her more than he already was.

She bit her lip, wickedness replacing the visage of innocence and he was certain he would never survive this marriage. Not with her near him every day. Not when he wanted her every minute of every hour.

For now at least. He could only hope that continued. And if he kept his distance, his desire for her would surely never fade. Too much of a good thing was never a good idea, and he needed to have her in his company, in his bed sporadically, not permanently to ensure he did not hurt her feelings.

"I want to be a good duchess," she whispered. "A good wife to you. But…I feel like I hardly know you. And after what happened the other day, I worry I’ve trapped you into this union. That you might resent me for it and are now displeased."

He could be all those things, he supposed. But it was as much his fault—more, even than hers that they were in this situation. He had followed her to his library. He’d locked the door and carried her to his desk. He’d fucked her until any slither of innocence had been well and truly dealt with.

"It is not your fault, Cordelia," he said quietly. "If there is blame to be laid, it’s mine to bear. And I hope we can muddle along well enough. I do not wish to give you false hope, but I promise I will not be cruel. That’s not in my nature."

Her shoulders dropped in relief, and his chest ached at the thought that she’d been afraid he might mistreat her.

"I can’t stop thinking about you," she admitted, her hand slowing, becoming more of a caress than an attempt to wash him.

Their eyes met, and he read the longing in her blue gaze.

"Would you like me to join you in your bath?" she asked, her voice trembling but bold.

He could not voice his answer, so shocked at her impudence. Then to catapult him further into astonishment she took his silence as permission. Before he could prepare himself, Cordelia stood, dropped her shawl and drew the shift from her body, her garments floating to the floor in a puddle of silk.

His throat tightened and he swallowed a moan at the sight of his wife.

Full, perfect breasts and a trim waist. Hips made for gripping, and legs that seemed to go on forever. Every inch of her his to worship, his to drink in and memorize like a painting in his mind.

She clasped the tub and stepped into the water, lowering herself to straddle his lap. Instinctively, his hands touched her, his palms slipping along her smooth back, wrenching her closer still.

She pressed against him, her mons brushing his cock in invitation.

His body surged in response, heat rising fast and wild.

There was no need for further conversation, no need to deny what they both wanted. He gripped her hips and lifted her to guide himself into her, stretching her sex to take him for the first time since their vows.

She was so perfect.

The word mine reverberated about in his head, and he forced himself to calm. To not take her like a wild beast that he felt himself slipping into right at this moment. A man without control or ability for composure.

Her fingers fisted his hair, shooting pain through his skull before she brushed her lips against him, kissing him deep and long. Her wild nature only made him grow harder.

He moaned at the feel of her tongue and he thrust into her, eliciting a gasp from her sweet lips that he greedily swallowed. Shivers ran over his skin, while his body burned, a contradiction, and yet she made him out of sorts, ruffled his world and made him think that mayhap she was enough.

That he would never grow tired of having her, of his life with her.

He prayed that was the case.

“Christian…”

She was close, he could feel the first trembles of her release. He pulled her closer still, helped her to reach that pinnacle and reveled in the sound of her breathy moans when she climaxed in his arms.

He followed her, grunting through his release, unable to catch his breath from the severity of his pleasure. Never had he ever felt so alive, so close or in solidarity with another.

And yet with Cordelia he was. They were in sync, sharing in one of life’s pleasures and already he could not wait for when next they would be alone.

She slumped against his chest, and he held her against him, drank in the feel of her in his arms. “Do not fall asleep, the water will soon grow cold.”

“Hmm,” she murmured, placing small, soft kisses against his shoulder. “I do not ever want to move. I’m quite content where I am.” He heard a smile in her voice.

He chuckled, unable to disagree with that sentiment.

So was he.