Page 28

Trevor lowered his chin until it rested on the top of her head and sighed.

He felt a surge of guilt as his conscience warred with his sexual desire.

Before entering her bedchamber tonight, he had resolutely put his attraction to his wife aside.

That resolve had already been sorely tested when she looked at him with such open longing.

And yet he had managed to control his urges, had managed to refrain from unleashing the pent-up passion that was tormenting him. Thus far.

“Is anything wrong, my lord?”

Her caring tone made him feel vulnerable, an emotion he despised.

“Lie back on the bed, Meredith.”

He felt her hesitation, her reluctance to leave the warmth of his arms, but she obeyed him without comment. Her breasts rose and fell with her harsh breaths, whether from excitement or fear he could not be certain.

He closed his eyes briefly and fought for mastery over himself, pushing aside all the wild, erotic things he wanted to do with her. He almost wished she was lying stiffly, fists clenched and eyes pinned to the ceiling, awaiting her fate with the martyred indignity of an aristocratic princess.

Then he could lift the hem of her nightgown, move her thighs apart, and couple with her, swiftly and fiercely.

But she was neither stoic nor shy, his exquisite bride. And she seemed incapable of keeping still. Her questing fingers searched through his chest hair and found his nipples. Using the flat of her fingertips, she gently circled the outer rim, then pulled on the puckering buds.

“Our bodies are not completely so different, are they?” she said in wonderment.

“You had best wait a few moments before making such rash statements,” he replied.

Trevor lowered his head and nuzzled her neck and jaw. The sheer joy of discovery in her eyes was too much to endure. He felt his cock twitch, then harden further as she slid her hands along the side of his hips and down his thighs.

He knew he should discourage her, but her touch felt so good, so right upon his burning flesh. Ever bold, she closed her wandering fingers around the base of his stiff erection and squeezed experimentally.

Hot waves of hunger poured through his body. “You must remember, I am rather nervous,” he said hoarsely, as he reached down and pulled her hand away. “And shy of you.”

“Shy?” Meredith laughed, throwing back her head and exposing the column of her long neck. “You do not feel shy, my lord.”

He smiled, despite his determination not to enjoy himself. Her innocence and enthusiasm were beguiling. He dipped his mouth to her breasts, kissing her erect nipples through the silk sheerness of her nightgown. Meredith drew in a sharp breath and arched her back.

Trevor moved his hand down below her waist, found the entrance to her body and circled it lightly with his finger.

She made a small sound of pleasure deep in her throat and lifted her hips.

The hot wetness at the juncture of her thighs let him know she would be able to accept his length with a minimum amount of pain.

He gathered her close, shutting himself off to all emotions except the relentless drive of his passion. Somehow her nightgown had become tangled around her waist. There were no impediments as Trevor opened her legs with the thrust of his knee and placed himself between them.

He entered her partway, then drove forward slowly. Meredith struggled, her legs shifting restlessly around him. He paused.

“Does that hurt?”

“It burns, stings.” She bit her lower lip, then tossed her head back and forth on the pillow. “Don’t stop. Full. I feel so full and stretched.”

He rocked his hips forward and she whimpered. “Better?” he asked.

“Hmmm.” Her face and neck were flushed, her eyes wild and wanton. He adjusted their bodies, trying to keep his strokes slow and shallow, but soon found himself pressing against the resistance of her maidenhead.

“Try not to tense your muscles,” he whispered. He held her hips steady in his hands and thrust forward, piercing the membrane, penetrating her completely in one deep stroke.

She cried out again, a mixture of shock and wonder. He expected her to stiffen and lie still or try to pull away from him. Instead she lifted herself up so she could press tender kisses to his cheek and jaw and throat.

His senses exploded. No longer capable of thrusting into her with detached control, he gripped her hips hard, thumbs digging into the soft, tender flesh, and he pumped vigorously with almost mindless, insistent urgency.

The pressure built to unbearable heights, and then Trevor felt the shudder begin, the blessed release. His entire body strained and convulsed as the climax overtook him, spilling his seed violently deep inside her tender flesh, nearly at the opening of her womb.

He tried not to collapse on top of her, to spare her his crushing weight, but she hugged him so fiercely he fell forward. For a long moment he lay there, the sound of his ragged breathing echoing through the room.

Gradually he came to his senses. Trevor raised his head slowly. A span of several heartbeats passed before he found the courage to gaze at the woman sprawled beneath him—his wife, now in body as well as name.

A blush of color stained her pale cheeks and her eyes were half closed. He brushed the hair out of her face, wondering if she was still in pain, hoping he had not embarrassed or upset her too much.

Her eyes fluttered open. “Is that it? Is it over?”

“Yes.” He rolled off to the side. Her simple questions confirmed what he expected. What he intended, really. She had not reached climax.

She was too inexperienced to realize it, of course. Proof of that came to him when she turned and snuggled close to him and sighed contentedly. He had brought her some measure of pleasure, some measure of enjoyment, but not the ultimate release, the ultimate intimacy.

For he knew that by satisfying one need he would be creating another.

“ ’Tis late,” he said softly. “I should leave you to your rest.”

“No!” Her arms tightened around his neck. Then she lowered her head in embarrassment. “Please, stay a while longer.”

His fingers trailed over her bare shoulder.

Her skin was so soft and smooth, so daintily white and unblemished.

Trevor ran his hands through the lengths of golden hair that hung down her back.

He caught a whiff of the lust that hung heavy in the air and felt his body begin to stir.

He should leave, before she managed to arouse him once more.

Yet he made no move to abandon his pleasant bower, allowing her to intertwine her leg intimately with his.

He felt her fingers twisting through the hair on his chest as he began to drift off to sleep. Unconsciously, his arms tightened around her. His eyelids closed as emotions and fatigue claimed him.

Meredith watched him sleep. When the slow rise and fall of his chest became a steady rhythm, she propped her elbow at an angle and rested her head upon her hand to gain a better view.

She gazed at him for a long time, like a love-struck fool, warning herself again and again not to wish for the stars or expect the impossible. The marquess was a difficult man to love, and the road she had chosen would not be an easy one to travel. Yet stubbornly she refused to give up hope.

Coming to his father’s house had taken a toll on his emotions. Even in slumber his handsome face seemed drawn, flushed with weariness.

Meredith leaned forward, dropped a quick kiss on his shoulder, then carefully slid from the bed. Her body ached in odd places and her inner thighs were sticky with his seed. She went to the washstand and poured a small amount of water into the porcelain bowl.

Meredith soaked a linen cloth, then carefully cleansed herself. Her body still throbbed from his possession. Yet as she ran the cloth over her tender flesh, she could not dispel the restless feeling that there should have been more.

There had been joy and wonder in their lovemaking, but there had also been an urgency, a frantic sense of reaching for something—something that was not there. Love? Meredith was unsure. It could hardly be necessary to be in love to achieve complete sexual fulfillment.

Her dashing husband was the perfect illustration of that theory. He most definitely was not in love with her, yet he had experienced something far more earth-shattering than she. Perhaps only men so easily achieved this blissful state?

Yet Meredith distinctly recalled that during that embarrassing and rather graphic conversation her mother had initiated about marital relations, there was mention of mutual pleasure and mutual enjoyment—passion so intimate it could make the body sing, surrender so complete one lost all sense of self-protection and simply gave and gave until they were free and satiated.

That was the sort of physical intimacy Meredith was hoping to someday achieve with her husband. Given his rakish reputation and experience with the female sex, she suspected he knew precisely how that was accomplished. All she need do now was somehow convey her desire to him.

With a philosophical frown, Meredith returned to the bed. Trevor stirred, but did not awaken as she climbed in beside him. For a moment she was disappointed. If he woke up, they would be able to engage in more lovemaking, perhaps this time reaching the heights of that elusive shattering pleasure.

Blushing at her wanton thoughts, Meredith laid back against her pillow.

She turned and took up her favorite position, with her head resting comfortably against the solid muscle of Trevor’s chest. He shifted, then wrapped his arms securely around her.

She smiled. A part of him must truly want her, even if the waking side of him had yet to realize it.

All was quiet and still around them. Beneath her cheek Meredith could hear his heart beating. The comforting sound lulled her into a peaceful sleep.