Page 24 of The Duke’s Guide to Fake Courtship (Daring Debutantes #1)

T hey were married by special licence that evening. Her father gave her away. Her sister and Phoebe stood radiantly by her side. They were her support.

The Duchess and her sister also attended, as did Lord Domac, using every possible moment to dissuade Declan.

Grace said nothing, waiting to see if he would allow their constant interference.

He did not.

After his mother’s first interruption—just as the priest entered the church—he told them all to be silent or to be gone. And by gone, he continued, he meant that they would be gone from his life and his support.

Such was the power of his statement that they all stood silent.

Then he turned to her.

‘I love you,’ he said. ‘But if they are too much for you—’

‘Will you always defend me? Against them? Against others?’

‘I vow it before them and before God.’

She smiled. ‘I vow it as well. I will stand by you, aid you, and love you until my last breath. As I will our children.’

His smile was radiant. His kiss was passionate. And for her, that was the promise that sealed their marriage bond well before the priest spoke his words or either of them said, ‘I do.’

Twenty minutes later it was done. They were married.

And that night, as he brought her to his home, she knew all would be well.

Except for one small, but enormous detail.

The marriage bed.

The English and the Chinese alike prized virgins. And though she had never had relations with a man, she could not prove her virginity. She understood better than most what men looked for to prove virginity. They wanted blood on their marriage sheets. They wanted pain during the coupling. She didn’t know if such a thing was possible for her. So many men had told her that she was unnatural. What if she could not prove what she knew to be true?

She did not say anything about her concerns as they travelled to his home. She did not say anything as he introduced the staff. Nor did she say anything when her new maid was presented to her. It was Molly Smithee, the daughter of the servant at her come-out ball, come to be her abigail.

The girl was indeed pretty, but she was also smart and capable, ready with soothing words as she helped Grace into the bath already prepared for her. There hadn’t been time since her come-out for Grace to teach the girl how to defend herself, but there would be plenty now, she supposed.

‘I’ve set a salve for your use by the bedside,’ Molly said, her voice low as she pointed. ‘Mama says it will help with the ache.’

Grace nodded. She had heard of such things as well. Molly said other things, but Grace couldn’t think. So much had happened this night. She could not believe she was married.

It wasn’t until she was dried, and dressed in a gown of sheer silk, that she thought to grab the girl’s hand.

‘What will he do?’ she asked. ‘What will he do if he thinks I am not a virgin?’

The girl’s eyes widened with shock, then she shook her head. ‘He can have the marriage annulled.’

‘Annulled?’ She did not know this word.

‘Ended as if it had never happened.’

No. No! He would not take it away now, would he? Not after their vows, not after all he had said.

‘I cannot prove it,’ she whispered. ‘I have climbed ratlines, fought with sails in storms. I have whipped men and done things no woman has done before.’ She swallowed. ‘I have been told many times that because of that there will be no blood when I am married. That I will not be able to prove whether this is my first time or not.’

Molly nodded, but had no answer.

Every girl heard such things growing up. Do not do these things. It will take away your virginity, whether or not you have been with a man .

‘In China,’ Grace whispered, ‘a woman can be killed for this.’

‘Would the Duke do that?’ Molly asked.

Grace bit her lip, trying to think rationally. She could not believe a man who had just vowed to love her for ever would do such a thing. But men were not always rational when it came to the marriage bed. And by his own admission his Byrning blood was prone to rages.

‘He won’t kill me,’ she said, her voice strengthening. ‘He will believe me.’ She wrapped her arms tight around her belly. ‘He will believe me,’ she repeated.

And then there was no more time. There was a knock at the door that joined their rooms and Declan entered. He, too, had bathed, and his hair was still damp. His eyes gleamed in the firelight, and he walked with a predatory kind of grace. Not as a man who lived on a sailing ship, but as a creature who was wholly sure of himself in his domain.

Grace adored the sight of him.

But he paused when he saw her, and his steps slowed. ‘You are afraid,’ he said.

She didn’t answer.

‘That’s natural. In the span of a few hours, everything has changed for you. For me as well.’

‘I am not a natural woman,’ she said, meaning that she was an orphan of mixed blood who had navigated ships and only just come to England. Nothing about that was normal or natural.

He touched her cheek, stroking it gently with his fingers. ‘You seem completely natural to me.’ He caressed the edge of her jaw before trailing his hand down the length of her neck. ‘Exquisitely beautiful.’ He grinned. ‘And now you are mine.’

She had no time to search his face for subtle meanings. For all that he seemed a gentle man, she did not like his words of ownership. And yet, perversely, she thrilled to the mastery in his kiss. She enjoyed surrendering to him.

She opened her mouth to his. She felt his fingers slide across the ribbon of her gown and she trembled when she felt him pull it free. The silk gaped open across her chest, and his mouth followed the trail set by his fingers. Her body heated, her knees weakened, and her breath caught with each scrape of his teeth across her flesh. She gripped his shoulders to stay upright, but he clearly had no desire to stay standing.

He scooped her up in his arms and laid her gently on the bed. She pushed herself up, supporting herself on her elbows—not because she wanted to stand, but because she wanted a better view of her husband as he stripped out of his dressing gown.

She had never seen him naked before. She knew the shapes of men’s bodies, knew how to evaluate them for strength against the sails or nimbleness in the rigging. He was neither bulky nor wiry. He was tall and powerful, his muscles reddish gold in the firelight. And his power seemed to ripple across his whole body as he came forward.

‘What do you see,’ he whispered, ‘when you look at me like that?’

‘A fortress,’ she said as she skimmed her hand across his shoulder. ‘And a sail,’ she went on as she stroked the breadth of his chest.

He arched a brow at her. ‘Those don’t usually go together.’

‘No, they don’t...’

But she saw it in him. Strong shoulders to protect her, and the power to take her wherever they might need to go, even if it was nowhere but right here.

She shook her head. ‘My head is muddled.’

He grinned. ‘Good.’

Then he kissed her again, gently pressing her back into the bed. He thrust his tongue inside her mouth, he duelled with hers and he used his hands to push away her gown. First off her shoulders, then down to her waist. Her arms were pinned then, caught by the fabric. She knew she could rip her hands free if she wanted to. She knew she could fight if she needed to. But she didn’t want to.

Instead, she let herself arch into the stroke of his hands on her breasts. Her head pressed back as his mouth trailed across her body. Such attention he gave to her breasts. His hands shaped her, his fingers pinched her nipples, and then his mouth suckled until she was writhing beneath him.

Then she felt the weight on the bed shift. While she lay panting, he stroked his hands across her feet and up her calves. His fingers were strong as they kneaded her flesh, and he moved steadily upward, bringing her gown with him until it lay tangled across her hips while he knelt between her knees.

She was open before him, and it was nothing like what had happened in the kitchen. This time it was his hands on her legs, his thumbs stroking her wetness. He spread her open, and when she thought to tense he leaned forward and blew air across her wet nipple.

The experience was so shocking—the cold on the wet—that she gasped. And then he captured her nipple between his lips while his fingers did wonderful things between her thighs.

She cried out as pleasure shot between her breast and her groin. And then her breath caught again as he rolled over the spot between her thighs. That wonderful place he had taught her. Over and over he stroked her, while her legs trembled.

Then he bit her nipple. Not hard, but sharp. Enough to shock her. And as she arched from the sensation he entered her. One hard thrust.

She felt the intrusion like a bolt of lightning. One that stretched her wide and filled her to bursting. It was too much, and it was wonderful.

She lifted her knees, not even knowing what she wanted.

But he did.

He began to move and she revelled in it. Harder, faster.

She gripped him with her knees. She clung to his shoulders. She arched down against each thrust.

She heard his breath, harsh against her ear. Or was that hers?

Again and again he drove into her.

Climbing.

Building.

Bursting!

She flew on waves of bliss.

She had no idea how long she floated, but when she returned to herself she realised he had collapsed beside her, and she was snuggled into his side. She heard his breath steady. Hers, too. And she smiled for a while.

Until she remembered.

‘It didn’t hurt,’ she whispered.

Her body stiffened when she realised she’d said that aloud. Afraid, she opened her eyes. Then she panicked when she saw him watching her.

‘Grace?’

She swallowed, then adjusted herself on the bed. If there wasn’t blood, she’d cut herself to make sure there was. But how would she do it without him seeing? Oh, heaven, she was flustered.

‘Grace, what’s wrong?’

‘I...um... I need...’

She needed to fool him. He couldn’t know. But—

He grabbed her arm, stilling her with the strength in his grip. It wasn’t bruising, but it was firm.

‘What do you need?’

His voice was calm, no sign of his fury, but there was a tightness in his face. If she’d thought ahead she could have had a convenient lie ready. But she’d never expected... She’d never thought...

‘It didn’t hurt,’ she said.

‘That’s good.’

‘I know I’m not a natural woman,’ she said, her voice low. ‘I know—’

‘You are natural to me.’

‘I have never been with a man before. Never before you. I swear. But—’

His expression abruptly softened. ‘It doesn’t always hurt for a virgin.’ He flashed her a quick grin. ‘Not if it’s done right.’

‘Oh.’ No one had ever told her that. ‘But there should be blood, yes?’

She moved to lift the coverlet, but he held her still.

‘I don’t need to see any blood. I know you were a virgin.’

‘But—’

‘I know.’

She blinked. ‘How?’

He chuckled. ‘Because you know nothing of sex. Because you haven’t the wiles of a courtesan. No woman could lie so effectively.’ He pressed a kiss to her lips. ‘And besides, I don’t care. So long as there is no one else after me, I am well content.’

‘After you?’ She didn’t understand what he meant. ‘I will not service your friends!’

He nodded, pulling her in tight. ‘Damn right, you won’t.’

He used his weight to gently settle her down against him. She curled tighter into his body. She smelled his scent, and immediately felt her body begin to relax. It took a while, but in time she felt her tension slide away.

‘Is that why you were afraid?’ he asked. ‘Because you thought I was worried about your virginity?’

She shrugged. ‘Yes and no. I think I was afraid about many things. This is very new.’

He was silent as he held her more securely against him. ‘Were you afraid I would rage at you?’

She thought of his legacy and shook her head. ‘I can defend myself. You are large, but I am quick.’

She felt him grin. ‘Good.’

Then he pressed a kiss to her temple. He was silent for a long time. Long enough for her to think he had fallen asleep. She was nearly there herself.

And then he spoke again, his words barely above a whisper.

‘Do you know why I love you?’

She was wide awake now. ‘Why?’

‘Because you make my world new. Before I met you, I had endless days and nights of the same damn thing. Certainly there were happy times, and there were bad times, but all in all the same thing. And every day I grew duller, emptier and colder.’

‘So I am...’ She searched for the right word. ‘I am a novelty?’

‘No!’ He pressed a kiss to her temple. ‘You have shown me that there is more to life than England. There is a whole world out there. And I want to share it with you.’ He smiled as he looked at her. ‘I told you this at Almack’s. Did you not believe me?’

She had. She did. But hearing it now, like this, naked and enfolded in his arms, it came to her why she loved him back.

‘You are a novelty to me,’ she said. ‘You have offered me a world that I never knew was possible. A life where I can be safe and new.’ She pressed a kiss to his lips. ‘I would not change that for anything. I love you.’

‘And I love you.’

This time when they made love it was slow and sweet. And since she knew what was coming she could enjoy it more. And he could teach her more.

When it was done, she stretched out beside him. She was fully sated, fully delighted. And together they slept.