Page 27

In the luxurious gold, blue, and ivory bedchamber, Rose helped Meredith prepare for bed. She was glad the young maid had accompanied her, for Rose’s friendly face and usual chatter helped calm Meredith’s nerves.

The servant provided a much needed connection to her past, and that was a comfort to Meredith as she prepared to move toward her future. Tonight she was going to start to make a new life for herself, to assume a role she never honestly thought she would achieve: wife.

Trevor had been moodily silent on the walk to their rooms earlier, and Meredith was at a loss to understand why.

She had hoped for a kiss when they met on the third floor gallery, conspirators sharing the victory of their escape.

But the marquess had only nodded his head in greeting when he found her waiting exactly where he requested and had moved quickly forward.

Thankfully she was tall and long legged, or she would have been forced to run to keep pace with him. That would have almost been too humiliating to bear, for she got the distinct feeling he wasn’t hurrying to get to their bedchamber, but rather hurrying to get away from her.

Gone was the look of potent sensuality he seemed to delight in bestowing upon her, replaced by an impassive look that grew distant and tense with each step they took.

Something seemed to happen to Trevor as they walked down that long corridor, and it disturbed Meredith greatly, for she felt incapable of reversing the coldness that had come upon him.

He had left her alone to prepare for bed, as any considerate husband would do for his bride, yet it had not felt like consideration. It had felt like abandonment.

Meredith shook her head at her fancy wonderings.

Her nerves must be making her melancholy and overly dramatic.

It was far too soon to worry if Trevor would ever reciprocate her feelings.

If she continued with these gloomy thoughts, she would never be able to survive the night to come.

What could be more depressing than facing a bleak, loveless future?

Meredith forced her mind to change directions. This was her wedding night! It was hardly necessary for Trevor to lose his head over her. His kisses and caresses had aptly demonstrated his desire. For now she possessed more than enough love for them both.

“You look beautiful, my lady,” Rose said with a trace of awe.

Meredith smiled her thanks and glanced in the mirror above her dressing table.

The pale blue silk nightgown was of simple design, low cut and sleeveless, with an open front guaranteed to tempt any warm blooded male to reach inside and explore.

In a show of bravado, Meredith declined the matching robe, clearly shocking her maid.

“I will see you in the morning, Rose.”

“Late morning, I expect.” Rose giggled briefly at her own daring and hastily left the room.

Meredith’s nerves kicked up again once she was alone. She glanced at the door along the far wall, the one that led to Trevor’s sitting room, but it remained shut tight. Sighing, she picked up her silver-handled brush, sat before the dressing table, and rhythmically stroked her hair.

He arrived suddenly through the connecting door that linked their rooms. Though she had been expecting him, she nearly jumped when he appeared as a glimmer of movement in her mirror.

“Should I have knocked?”

“Of course not.” Rising from the padded seat, she turned to face him fully.

He wore a brocade dressing gown of sapphire blue, loosely belted at the waist, that accented the width of his shoulders and the broadness of his chest. His feet were bare.

She could not see much beyond his ankles, but surmised he wore nothing else beneath the garment.

The flickering candlelight flattered his fair complexion and refined facial features.

Meredith nearly sighed. He was such a compelling, handsome man. The intensity of his gaze made her heart begin to thud. Yet his face could have been carved from stone, for he showed not a hint of emotion.

“Your maid?”

“Rose has retired for the night.”

“Good.” She felt his gaze travel over her, taking in every detail of her revealing attire. With effort, she was able not to flinch. “I assume you are a virgin?”

There was a long pause as Meredith told herself not to be insulted or angered by the question. “Yes. Does that disappoint you?”

His expression broke and he grimaced. Yet he did not answer her question but instead said, “Your mother is not here to offer you advice or address any of your concerns. Is there anything you would like to ask me?”

Ask him? About what? Though she had vowed she would not, Meredith felt a blush creep into her cheeks as she finally caught his meaning.

“My mother already explained . . . that is to say, I already know . . . I mean I am aware—”

Abruptly she stopped, not believing how flustered she felt by this discussion.

Taking a deep breath, Meredith tried again.

“I am very aware of all aspects of marital relations. Physical relations. My mother has always felt it was most important that a woman not remain ignorant of such matters, so she took it upon herself to enlighten and explain everything to me when I reached my eighteenth birthday.”

“Everything?” The notion seemed to amuse him. “Hmmm, now I am nervous.”

Meredith felt herself relax. It was going to be all right. Trevor seemed to be in the grip of some strange emotion, but it no longer frightened or disturbed her.

She lacked the nerve to suggest they move to the bed, so instead of speaking she acted. Rose, or some other servant, had drawn back the spread. Meredith could feel the coolness of the satin sheet against her bottom through her sheer nightgown as she sat in the middle of the bed.

As she waited for him to follow, she admitted she was looking forward to this aspect of their relationship. He had already demonstrated his passion for her with his soul-melting kisses and languid caresses.

She had always been curious about the physical side of the male/female relationship, but never more so since the marquess had kissed and caressed her. Even that first night in the garden she knew there was something different about him, different about them.

The intimacy they were about to share would create a bond between them, a bond that would grow stronger as the days and weeks passed.

Meredith was not a love-struck fool. She did not believe this would instantly solve all the obstacles they now faced. But it could be a start. A most important, pleasurable start.

But still she waited. The marquess had not moved from his position. He seemed to be wrestling with some internal dilemma, some indecision. He turned and Meredith nearly cried out, for she thought he meant to leave.

She quieted when she saw him unbelt his dressing gown, then inhaled slowly as he removed the robe. As she had thought, he was naked beneath and achingly beautiful. Hard, solid muscle, broad shoulders and chest, narrow waist, long, fit legs.

The mattress shifted slightly as he sank down beside her. His nearness brought on a longing and hunger that started somewhere deep inside her. Never had she been so acutely aware of her body.

“Are you still nervous?” Meredith asked with a small smile.

“Terrified.” His expression was so serious it made her heart ache. Something was troubling him.

Tenderly she raised her hand and laid it on his chest. “I promise I will not bite you, my lord.”

“Regretfully, I cannot make the same vow, my lady.”

Her fingers strayed to his hair, caressed the outline of his ear, then moved to the back of his neck. “I do not mind in the least,” she whispered in a sultry voice, pulling his neck forward.

Arching against him, she drew him into a deep, warm kiss. He remained totally still for a moment. Then he ran his tongue along her lips. Eagerly Meredith parted them, and his tongue sank inside to tease and tangle with hers.

It felt so good, warm and sensuous and wild. Their mouths fit perfectly. Trevor’s tongue began plunging slowly in and out, and Meredith became lost in the wonder of it as she tasted him fully.

Trevor placed his hands on either side of her face and gently pulled back from the kiss, his mind in complete turmoil.

She leaned forward, pressing every part of her scantily clad body against his.

His arms encircled her and she settled herself beneath his chin, burrowing closer.

Then Meredith lifted her lips and pressed them gently to the pulse that beat rapidly at the base of his throat.

It was a gesture of trust and caring that rocked the marquess to the core of his being. His heart swelled with a deep, painful yearning he had previously associated exclusively with his relationship with Lavinia.

The urge to protect and cherish grew strong, and he nearly laughed out loud of the absurdity of his predicament. For the one he needed to protect this delicate creature from was himself.

He had bedded many women in the past eight years, more than he could count. More than he could remember. At first he had been mistaken in believing that his passion for Meredith was yet another of his typical reactions to a woman of such beauty, charm, and spirit.

Now he knew better. He knew he was not prepared to be the type of husband she would demand. She had told him that before when she refused his proposal of marriage, but he had not heeded her warning.

She would not allow herself to be ignored, though in the end it would be best for both of them. Was it fair or honorable to allow himself to feel only desire for her? Would that not make an already difficult situation nearly intolerable?