Page 31 of Surrender Your Grace (Impromptu Brides #1)

The tray had come and gone, untouched. After a warm bath, she chose her softest dressing gown—plum velvet, cinched high at the waist—and curled on the chaise, eyes fixed on the fire licking low in the grate.

Her thoughts spun with regret, dread... and something else. Anticipation. That dangerous flutter low in her belly every time she recalled his voice—“save those tears”—and the firm imprint of his palm.

It was past midnight, his important guests long gone, when the latch clicked.

She sat up as Andrew entered silently, coat removed, cravat loosened, shirt unfastened at the throat. His eyes locked on hers—dark, unreadable. She stood, hands clasped.

“You’re still awake,” he said. “I wasn’t sure you would be.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“You’ve had time to reflect,” he replied, his voice like velvet over steel.

“I… have,” she said, slowly rising.

“Good. Because I haven’t.”

She blinked. “You’re still angry?”

He advanced, deliberate and slow. “Angry doesn’t begin to cover it. You embarrassed yourself. Endangered yourself. And might’ve done worse if I hadn’t arrived.”

“I said I was sorry—”

“And I said sorry isn’t the same as change. What you need is correction.” His gaze swept from tousled curls to bare toes. “Remove the gown,” he murmured.

Her lips parted. “Andrew—”

He stopped in front of her—close but not touching. “Do you remember what I told you at Arendale about punishment?”

She nodded, and repeated, “If I act like a lady should, I have nothing to worry about.” A beat passed before she asked, “Should I be worried?”

His thumb grazed her cheek, sweeping back a stray curl. “What do you think?”

She wasn’t. Not overly. The other times had been playful. This one—likely not. And rightly so.

Without a word, she unfastened the tie at her waist, and let the velvet fall, revealing softly clinging silk beneath.

Andrew’s jaw flexed. “Bend over the vanity. Hands flat on top.”

She hesitated, but he didn’t repeat himself. He didn’t need to.

The marble chilled her palms as she leaned in. Her reflection in the mirror revealed flushed cheeks and eyes wide with anticipation—and something more.

Andrew stepped in behind her, palms gliding over her hips before pushing the silk up to her waist. His hand splayed across her bare bottom, warm, possessive, commanding.

Closing her eyes, she savored his touch, having yearned for it so long. The next instant, she sucked in a breath when the first stinging spank landed.

“You drank too much,” he said, his hand retreating and returning with another crisp smack.

“You smoked my cigars.” A third. “You rifled through my private study.” And still another, harder.

“You could have been seriously hurt if I hadn’t been there.

” Two more followed, one to each cheek, igniting a fire.

Panting fast and shallow, she held her position, fingers white-knuckled on the marble.

“Was it worth angering me?” he asked, his tone deceptively calm.

“No. The cigars were foul, the brandy worse, and I never found what I was looking for.”

“Your ‘instructional material’?” he said dryly, punctuating it with two more sharp swats.

“Yes,” she hissed. “And I disappointed you.”

“Very much so,” he replied, administering a flurry of four.

“That wasn’t my intent,” she cried. “I don’t even know what I was thinking.” Lifting her gaze to the mirror, she met and held his. “I’m clear-headed now, Andrew. And I’m very sorry.”

A final smack fell followed by a kiss pressed to the curve of her spine.

The contradiction made her dizzy.

He rubbed her tender skin, slow and gentle. “You’re flushed all over, sweeting. Should I take it as shame?

She turned her head slightly, lips curving. “It might be something else.”

“Oh? What might that be?”

“I miss you,” she whispered. “I miss us—the way we were.”

“So do I.”

He spun her and lifted her onto the vanity. Her knees parted instinctively, silk gown bunching as he stepped between her thighs.

“It’s been a long time.”

“Too long,” she murmured, breath catching as his hands skimmed up the outside of her legs.

“I’ve waited,” he said, brushing his fingers along her hip.

“Not because I didn’t want you—God knows I did.

There wasn’t a day I didn’t think of you, not a night I didn’t ache to touch you.

But I waited for your strength to return.

Your laughter. The light in your eyes. I couldn’t take more until I knew you’d fully healed… in every way.”

“Thank you for your patience,” she whispered. “But I want this. I want you.”

He studied her, something unguarded flickering in his gaze—regret, maybe. Or something softer. Hope.

“Then welcome me home,” he murmured. “Not just tonight. Tomorrow. The day after.”

“I’m right here, Andrew. For always.”

He cradled her face and kissed her. No dominance. No restraint. Just devotion.

He eased the straps from her shoulders, letting the silk slide down her body. She reached for him, fingers trembling as she worked his buttons. He shrugged off his shirt then lifted her and carried her to the bed, laying her atop the covers like a priceless gem on velvet.

He removed the last barrier between them, standing naked in the firelight—pure heat and masculine intent. Then he joined her, fingers trailing the curve of her waist, down to the softness of her thighs.

“Tell me if you’re uncertain,” he murmured. “Tell me to stop if you’re not ready.”

“I’ve never been more certain,” she breathed.

His lips began at her collarbone, trailing lower. At her belly, he paused, his mouth soft against her skin.

“We lost something precious,” he said quietly.

Undone by him, her voice broke with emotion, “Yes, and I’ll never forget, but I’m ready to begin again.”

His hands and lips explored, teased. Her body arched into him, aching and ready—every nerve alive.

“Please, Andrew. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

He didn’t. He entered her with aching tenderness. She gasped at the fullness, the stretch—but her arms wrapped around him, drawing him close. Their rhythm was gentle at first, rediscovering each other.

Each kiss lingered. Each breath, shared.

It built—soft, slow then urgent. Her fingers gripped his shoulders. His name tore from her lips as pleasure crested and broke.

He followed with a groan, forehead to hers, their bodies trembling, hearts racing.

In the hush that followed, wrapped in tangled sheets and fading firelight, Cici traced idle circles across his chest.

“I waited for something else. Much too long, and I shouldn’t have,” he said quietly.

She stilled, sensing the weight behind his voice.

“I love you, Cici. More than I ever knew possible.”

Her breath caught. Her hand rose to his cheek, thumb brushing his mouth. “And I love you, Andrew. I have… since Arendale. Before everything fell apart. I was just afraid to say it.”

He kissed her—soft, reverent—as if the words had changed something in his bones.

“Never be afraid with me, Cici,” he whispered. “Especially not to share your heart.”

He turned his head and pressed a kiss into her palm. “I intend to share mine by telling you how much I love you every day.”

“And every night,” she whispered—so full of happiness, hope, love, and a host of other emotions she thought she might burst.

They snuggled close, and for a long moment she thought he slept—until he chuckled.

“What’s funny?”

“I’m clearly a terrible disciplinarian,” he murmured into her hair. “You were meant to be punished, not rewarded.”

She tipped her head back with a sly smile.

“I don’t know… you seemed rather adept at both.”

His laughter as he hugged her close—low and warm—was the sound of a man finally at ease.

They drifted off, skin to skin, no longer a void between them. Only promise.