Page 19

17

The room span as Mary sipped her wine. She had drunk four full glasses through dinner. The conversation was easier, though. They spoke of their friends, sharing stories, while Andrew continually refreshed her glass.

She had drunk quickly, using the wine to calm her nerves, but she was sure she was babbling inanely for the last hour.

She had not eaten much, her stomach had fluttered with too many butterflies and the bed had shouted its presence behind her.

He’d said it might hurt.

Her mother had not mentioned pain when Kate had given birth to Paul months ago, and they’d discussed such things. Her mother had said the marriage bed need not be unpleasant.

The things she and Andrew had done in the summerhouse had not been unpleasant.

‘Mary?’

She’d let their conversation ebb.

The stem of her glass dangling through her fingers, she leaned back in her chair.

‘Do you want any more to eat?’

She shook her head, her heartbeat drumming in her ears.

His plate was empty, hers was still full.

This was nothing to him.

Her palms were sweaty. ‘I am not hungry.’

‘You are nervous…’ His gaze held hers.

‘A little. Can you blame me?’

‘No, sweetheart, I do not blame you.’ He rose and something sliced through her middle, cutting to the point between her legs, but he did not come towards her, he turned to the bell pull and rang it.

Her mouth dried. She sipped more wine, her fingers embracing the glass.

‘I think you have had enough of that, I do not want you unconscious.’ He lifted the glass from her hand and set it on the table.

Her hand fell to her lap.

‘When they clear the table, I’ll ask them to send up a maid to help you undress, and I shall go outside for a smoke to give you time to prepare.’ His fingertips touched her cheek. ‘Smile, sweetheart, this is meant to be a happy thing.’

She licked dry lips. He smiled. The room span again.

His eyes held the depth she’d seen in the summerhouse; Andrew’s eyes, not D-rew’s.

A light knock struck the door.

She stood. The floor swayed.

A maid entered and loaded a tray with the empty dishes and their leftovers.

‘Could someone come to the room and help my wife undress.’

‘Of course, sir.’ The maid looked at Mary, ‘I will return to help you, ma’am.’

‘I will go for a walk and give you time to undress,’ Drew stated.

When the door closed behind him, Mary’s heart raced so hard she thought she might faint. There was no going back after this… This was like her wedding night, but they were not married.

Her hands shook as she took her nightdress out of her bag. She unlaced her boots, slid off her stockings and put the items on top of her travelling bag.

When the maid returned, she lit the candles, drew the curtains, released the buttons at the back of Mary’s gown and unthreaded the laces of the short corset.

‘I can manage now, thank you,’ Mary said as the lacing slipped free.

‘Very well, ma’am, good evening to you.’ The maid bobbed a curtsy and left.

Once Mary was in her nightgown, she could not decide whether to climb into the bed.

When Andrew knocked quietly on the door, she stood at the end of the bed – still undecided.

‘Come in,’ she called.

As he opened the door, his gaze dropped to her toes peeping from beneath the hem of her nightgown. Darkness had gathered in his eyes when he closed and locked the door; a darkness implying deep unfathomable seas of emotion.

The butterflies in her stomach flew so raucously it made her nauseous when his fingers slipped the buttons of his evening coat loose. She got into the bed then, fleeing, so she could hide beneath the covers and not obviously watch him undress.

He shucked his coat off and draped it over the back of a chair, then with his back to her he unbuttoned his waistcoat. Before removing anything else he sat down to pull off his boots, and as he did so he looked up and smiled at her.

She smiled back, her nerves easing.

He stopped undressing when there were only his trousers and shirt left to remove and walked towards the bed. But then he pulled his shirt from his waistband, lifted it up over his head and threw it to the floor.

‘My mother would tell you to pick that up and not cause a mess.’

A deep chuckle resonated from his throat. ‘I shall pick it up – in the morning.’

Her gaze flowed over the contours of muscular ridges and hollows. He was beautiful.

‘Will you get up and remove your nightdress.’

Was it possible for butterflies to stampede? If so, that is what they did within her stomach.

‘There is no need to be afraid, Mary. I just do not want us to have to undress awkwardly in the bed. It would make things less enjoyable for you.’

Every limb trembled as she pushed back the covers and climbed off the bed, but she would not be a coward.

He stepped close and kissed her, his hand at her waist over her nightgown. The touch was not intimate and yet it felt intimate because she had nothing on beneath the fine cotton.

He broke the kiss and smiled. The candlelight from the candelabrum beside the bed reflected in his eyes, turning them gold. ‘Do you want to remove your nightdress or shall I take it off?’

‘You may,’ she said bravely, her chin tilting up and denying her fear.

His fingers held the cotton of her nightgown at either side of her thighs and lifted.

Her breath trapped in her lungs as the cotton brushed quickly across her skin. She raised her arms so it would come off easily.

When she stood naked, the air in the room raised goosebumps on her skin and made her shiver, even though it was not cold.

He dropped her nightgown on the floor, not stopping to stare; he understood her embarrassment. He kissed her shoulder and her neck, his hands touching her waist as they had when she was clothed. He kissed her cheek and then her lips.

The trembling in her limbs eased. Perhaps the wine had helped because with the room spinning, it was hard to be too conscious of anything but the sensations he stirred inside her.

His hands slid up to her breasts and his thumbs brushed her nipples.

Her body arched towards him, her head tilting back as his kisses trailed from her mouth to her neck. Then he stopped.

She sighed.

He straightened.

‘Lie down…’

He looked hazy through her wine-tinted gaze.

She sat on the bed and shuffled back to the far side as he undid the buttons of his flap.

At least she had seen that part of him before. But that did not stop the heat burning in her cheeks.

He slid off his trousers and underwear in one movement.

Her stomach tumbled upside down at the sight of his masculinity, the muscles in his thighs and buttocks and the part of him that on her brothers had hung limp but on him stood proud. His body was more handsome than the life-size marble statues in John’s collection.

She swallowed, trying to clear the dryness from her throat.

‘Lie back,’ he said, as his first knee rested on the bed, denting the mattress, and he climbed up.

She swallowed again as she lay awkwardly, with one knee bent but standing upright and one knee bent but resting slackly to the side.

‘Relax, sweetheart.’

She nodded, though her muscles refused to relax.

He knelt beside her, his gaze skimming over her body. ‘You are perfect.’

‘So are you.’

He smiled. ‘No. I am not. But I do think you are.’

He came down on all fours, his head lowered and he kissed her breast first.

The candles beside the bed flickered. Tremors that felt like the flicker of a flame raced through her body.

On all fours above her, he licked and then sucked one nipple, not touching her anywhere else.

‘Andrew.’ It was an exquisite sensation.

When his fingers touched her skin, he was shaking too – he was nervous too.

Her hands braced either side of his head, encouraging him to lie beside her and kiss her mouth, to steady them both with what they had done many times before. As they kissed, facing one another on their sides, her leg rested over his hip; the sensation of skin against skin a new discovery.

With a slight pressure he rolled her onto her back, his kiss left her mouth and his hand slid to her hip. His mouth followed the path of his hand, kissing down her middle to her stomach. Her muscles jolted at each touch.

Then his kiss touched her intimately between her legs.

Her fingernails dug into his shoulders and she laughed a little. Nervously.

He did not stop. His tongue swept out to taste her there.

‘Andrew!’

‘Relax.’ The heat of his breath burned her there, before he licked again.

He sucked her there, as he had sucked her nipple, sparking sharp sensations to spin through her body.

‘Andrew.’ His name came on a tide of want.

She was the worse for wear due to the wine, wistful and weak, and that meant everything that he did seemed… wonderful.

Then his fingers were within her as they had been the other day and his tongue claimed her too, and this time it was no slight invasion, it was a deep intrusion.

‘Ah.’ Her head pressed back into the bed, and her body lifted to his touch as her fingers clasped into fists in his hair. The sensations he had first taught her in the darkness swelled.

‘Please,’ she whispered, not even knowing what she was asking for. She was so hot. She just wanted this to be complete.

‘Not yet. We will wait until you experience the little death.’

It felt as though her fingers were clinging to sanity while he continued trying to steal her away with his wickedness.

‘Oh…’ then… ‘Andrew…’ There was that rush of intoxicating overwhelming sensations.

* * *

The flavour of Mary’s nectar filled Drew’s mouth as the spasm of her release pulled at his fingers and pulsed on the tip of his tongue.

Emotion tightened his throat and clasped in his stomach.

He’d known she was beautiful, but… naked… she outshone every other woman. There was not a single blemish on her pale skin. Her body was truly like porcelain.

‘Mary.’ He rose and moved over her.

Her eyes were glazed by the wine and her limbs moved clumsily to accommodate him between her legs. She had drunk her wine too quickly, and drunk more than she should have. But he understood she had needed the courage. She was everything pure and beautiful – and any moment now she would be his. He would be the very first, and he hoped the only man. He would marry her and keep her for himself. I do love you.

He positioned himself carefully above her, feeling his tip at the moist juncture between her thighs.

Her blue eyes were wide and luminous, revealing her fear.

‘It will hurt, just for a moment,’ he said, then plunged into her body hard and quick.

She gasped and cried out as his penetration pierced her barrier.

Buried inside her he held still, as she bit her lip and he fought not to express the emotions that dammed his throat.

After a moment, he kissed her brow, her nose, her cheekbone. He wanted to take the pain from her.

‘I love you, I do’ – he’d never known anything so precious.

When her body relaxed, he withdrew slowly. He had not been with a woman for a year, not since he decided Mary was his choice. He had waited a long time for today.

His friends would laugh if they knew how important she’d become to him. They had no idea he’d entirely abstained. But he was committed to her, as he wished her to be to him.

Pressing back in, he relished every sensation, preserving it to memory.

Her eyes closed.

If this was pain for her, it was heaven for him.

He withdrew and pressed in, cautiously, over and over again, trying not to hurt her any more than he had, but knowing the best cure for her pain was pleasure.

The candlelight cast light and shadow over her skin. Every contour of her face and her body was beautiful.

She opened her eyes and watched his face. The glaze in her eyes was from desire now, not wine. But he could see she did not understand why she felt like this.

He did not understand either. The emotion inside him made him feel like he would split in two as he held her gaze and swallowed back the lump in his throat.

‘Mary.’ Her name was a supplication, a promise – he idolised her.

Her hands held his shoulders. She had such a gentle touch.

‘Come again for me, sweetheart,’ he urged vocally as he moved.

Her blue irises shone like glass.

‘I love you,’ he repeated the words, his throat constricting with the emotion he could no longer hold back. Maybe it was true. Maybe it was not. He thought it was. But it was what she wished to hear and he would give her anything she wished, his heart was brim-full of her.

‘Our marriage will be a good one.’

Her eyes shimmered with tears.

‘Can you bear it if I move a little faster?’

She nodded.

‘I love you,’ he said again, working harder, moving more strongly and quickly.

‘And I you,’ she answered this time as she pressed up against his next invasion. ‘Mm…’

She licked her lips.

He worked with more skill, angling his movements for her pleasure. ‘Does it feel good now?’

Her blue eyes looked at him through a cloak of dark eyelashes and she nodded as her legs rose, and her thighs braced his hips, allowing him more depth.

He increased his intensity, pushing deep, fast and hard, forgetting her virginity and seeking bliss for them both as her breasts rocked with the force of his thrusts.

Her breath came in pants and her fingernails clawed into his back as her thighs fell open wider for him. She sighed with a whimpering sound. Then…

‘Andrew?’ Her eyes opened and her gaze clung to his, terrified for an instant as he took her to the edge. She hid nothing as she broke, crying out, her fingers clawing, her body arching into pleasure as sweat glistened gold on her skin in the candlelight.

Once, twice more, he thrust in hard, letting go of all restraint and thought. A third time, and then… he came to pieces – a wave crashing over the shore, a burst of rolling power. He had never experienced sex like this before. He held still, buried deep inside her as sensations ripped through him. He bit his tongue and shut his eyes.

When it was over, he laughed and tumbled to his back, pulling her over him. ‘Mary, you are my dream.’

‘I love you,’ she said against his neck as he drifted into sleep with her as his blanket.