Page 31 of The Prince’s Wallflower Wife (The Wallflower Academy #4)

That was all she had to say, but something within her stopped her. They had not discussed children, which had been foolish of them, in hindsight. What would being a child of Niedernlein mean? Would the babe have to be born outside England?

Perhaps she had been foolish to think that merely one encounter could create a child—and yet, that was all that had been required. And now here she was, pregnant with his child, fighting off the nausea each morning, hoping that he would not notice, and she still had not told him.

Christoph evidently misunderstood her silence. ‘I know the negotiations, the rules, were to protect us. To reduce complications—let me speak plainly—to prevent ourselves from developing any affection for each other. But affection is what I feel. We cannot fight it.’

Daphne merely stared at him, with a pit in her stomach. She had to tell him. Just say the words. Say the words, Daphne, tell him.

‘But of course if…if you do not…’ Christoph swallowed, a shadow of uncertainty grazing his expression. ‘I should have considered, but it did not occur to me until now that you did not… That you might not return…’

She saw the awkwardness in his expression, and his nervousness made complete sense. He cared for her, yes, but she had said no words of love. In fact, she had given no sign that she felt anything for him than the vague appreciation of a companion.

Heat flared. She had to tell him about the baby…but perhaps this was not the right moment. In this moment, when hearts were being opened and they were finally starting to understand each other, with emotions heightened and a vulnerability new to them both? No, this was not the time.

‘I… I…’ Daphne could not find the words.

Christoph looked at her silently, not demanding anything, waiting patiently, knowing that she needed a moment to get her thoughts in order.

And that was when she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, just how wonderful he was. Just how deeply he had touched her soul. Just how much she did not want to be without him.

That she loved him.

How did she tell her husband that she had fallen in love with him?

Leaning forward instinctively, abandoning the attempt with words and knowing actions could speak far louder, Daphne pressed a kiss upon Christoph’s lips.

He froze, just for a moment. Then he kissed her back, his lips parting hers possessively, demanding, eager, but never forceful. Oh, it was glorious; Daphne’s mind whirled as the giddiness of his touch flowed through her.

Their first kiss.

When it was over, when she could no longer breathe and was obliged to pull away, Christoph kept a close hold on her shoulder, preventing her from moving too far from him. Not that she wanted to move too far from him.

‘I feel… I feel much,’ Daphne blurted out, the words running into each other. ‘I… You make me feel…you make me feel…’

‘I know,’ he said, his voice ragged. ‘I know.’

And they were kissing again; she did not know how, but they were. Vines of pleasure curled around her body, sparking need in her that she had never known before. A deeper need, a closer connection, was possible now and she craved it as she would have panted for water in a desert.

When they finally ceased the second bout of kissing, Daphne’s face was flushed and her hair was mussed. Christoph was panting, and his cravat had somehow managed to untie itself. Her fingers tugging at the knot might have had something to do with it.

‘Upstairs?’ Christoph whispered.

Daphne did not know where this boldness was coming from, but she said, ‘I believe I was promised being carried?’

His low chuckle warmed her as nothing else could. ‘My wanton wallflower wife.’

Her lungs caught as she yelped—a perfectly natural reaction to suddenly being swooped up into Christoph’s arms as he rose from the sofa. Her legs dangled over the sides of them. ‘The servants will see.’

‘Let them see,’ Christoph said in a low growl, a smile teasing his lips. ‘What will they see, but a husband devoted to his wife?’

Daphne shivered with the surprise of it all as Christoph strode across the drawing room and she opened the door. A husband devoted to his wife—devoted to her.

Thankfully, there were no servants to witness this shameless display of open affection as they walked across the hall and up the stairs.

It was as though she weighed nothing, Christoph having no difficulty carrying her upstairs, across the landing and to the bedchamber where Daphne had been only once, on their wedding night.

Christoph’s bedchamber. It was much the same as she remembered it. The four-poster bed was still huge, the large window still covered with a sweeping curtain.

And Christoph was still the same man. Yet she knew him so much better, knew what he was, what he stood for. How he cared for her. So, in some ways, everything in this room was now completely different.

Christoph carefully lowered Daphne onto her feet and cupped her face as he kissed her.

She revelled in the moment, tasting his tongue, exploring the way he gave her pleasure in a way that sparked across her breasts and jolted down to her secret place.

This was—this would be—so much more special than anything they had ever shared.

And what they had already shared was pretty spectacular.

‘Let me undress you, love,’ Christoph whispered against her neck as he trailed kisses down to her collarbone.

Daphne shivered. ‘Y-yes. Undress me.’

How different was this moment from their wedding night, when he had helped with her ties but remained distant.

Her fingers scrabbled at her ties and ribbons, her gown falling in a shimmer of silk, wrenching her stays from her body as she pulled down her stockings until she was utterly nude before him.

Christoph had not been idle; his own clothes were scattered around them on the carpet in a flurry of cotton and linen.

Daphne swallowed. He was…magnificent. Like a classical statue, all muscle and sinew, straining passion and energy, his manhood jutting out to attention, his face flush with desire.

‘You are magnificent,’ he whispered.

She could not help but smile. ‘I was just thinking the same about you.’

Somehow they both reached the bed in a tangle of tongues and hands, gentle yet persistent, Daphne gasping with the sudden peaks of bliss she found as Christoph lowered her down.

One of his hands grasped her hips, pulling her closer, and she quivered as his manhood pressed urgently against her thigh in need. Desperate need.

‘I—I don’t know anything about this,’ Daphne panted, suddenly painfully aware of her ignorance. ‘I mean, I don’t—I don’t know how to make it good.’

Christoph stilled, and for a heartbreaking moment she thought he meant to pull away. That he was dissatisfied with her lack of skill and knowledge—disappointed that she somehow did not know.

‘Trust me,’ he breathed. ‘Trust me?’

It sounded like a question so Daphne nodded, before she yelped with surprise as Christoph rolled onto his back and pulled her hips with him so that she straddled him.

‘Christoph!’

‘I… I have not done it like this before,’ he admitted, his face a mite bashful. ‘But I think… Ride me, Daphne. Lower yourself onto me and ride me.’

‘Like…like a horse?’ It sounded ridiculous as she said it aloud, yet there was earnestness in his eyes. He had never done this before…

Christoph nodded and Daphne inhaled deeply. Well, if it would give him pleasure… This was so intimate, just being naked together, touching and being touched. Perhaps that would be enough.

Slowly, her whole body tingling as she positioned herself over her husband’s rather impressive member, Daphne pierced herself with the tip of his manhood.

Christoph groaned, his back arching, his hips clearly fighting not to thrust up into her. ‘Oh, yes.’

Daphne continued to move downwards, gasping at the flickering bliss that soared through her body as she continued to impale herself on his manhood. Oh, he was filling her, with something so sweet, so exquisite, she could have wept.

When her hips met his own, they both panted. Christoph’s hands were on her hips, caressing tenderly, and Daphne managed a smile.

‘And now…’

‘Ride,’ Christoph whispered. ‘You wanted me to eat you, Daphne. Well, now I’m asking you to ride me.’

Flushing at the reminder of the wanton request she had made of the man, Daphne lifted herself until only the very tip of him was still inside her, then thrust herself down.

‘Oh, yes!’

‘Christoph!’

Their mingled cries of delight soared around the room and Daphne laughed, her delight at finding such sensual decadence in such a smooth, short motion shocking her.

Oh, this was far more than she could ever have expected.

It was pleasant to ride Christoph up and down, up and down, feeling the slick, thrusting force of him within her, hitting a honeyed spot that jolted intense bliss through her whole body, while she watched Christoph’s twisting, quivering features as he gave himself up to the ecstasy.

‘God, you feel…you feel…’

And, as though he could not help himself, Christoph reached up and caressed her breasts, his finger and thumb finding both nipples and twisting as she thrust heavily down on him, and Daphne cried out with the overwhelming pleasure of it.

She was close to ecstasy. She knew it now, she was starting to learn the ways of her body, and as she looked down and met her husband’s gaze he seemed to know.

Though one hand remained at her breast, the other moved lower, lower, until it found the place where their two bodies met.

Carefully, as she continued to thrust faster and faster onto his manhood, her body quivering with the impending climax, Christoph found that nub and circled it slowly but with intense pressure.

And she fell apart. Hardly knowing how her thighs managed it, her body spasming with ecstasy, her sight disappearing, all senses focused on skin that roared with decadence, Daphne crested the wave as Christoph cried out her name and thrust upwards into her.

‘Daphne, Daphne, Daphne!’

When she collapsed onto him, and he kissed her lips, nose, eyelashes and neck, when his arms moved around her, she knew she was home—a true home that she could never lose.

When the quivering of her body had slowed and her pulse had not, Daphne knew. This was it. This was everything.

Christoph pressed a kiss against her temple and said, in a frayed voice, ‘Ready to go again?’