breeches, a noticeable bulge in the front of the latter. “But I will do my best. Now, if you don’t
mind, I’d prefer to not be the only one undressed. Turn around, my sweet, and let’s see if my
fantasies do you justice.”
It wasn’t that Robert had never been seduced, but he certainly had never been seduced by an
innocent ingénue. First she’d proposed—and he’d accepted—and now in a somewhat clumsy but
entirely arousing way, Rebecca had managed to divest him of most of his clothing with an
enthusiasm that resembled nothing of what he’d pictured in his imagination of fearful virgins.
It appeared he needed to adjust his thinking, at least when it came to his future wife.
Wife.
That was something he’d have to digest later. Right now the throbbing between his legs
precluded rational thought.
He unfastened her gown with practiced ease, pushed it off her creamy shoulders, and sent a fall of
lemon fabric to the floor in a gentle swoosh of muslin over smooth, warm skin. Under the demure
lace of her chemise, her full breasts were outlined in a way that sent the blood rushing through his
veins, and he plucked out the pins confining her hair with impatient fingers, carelessly tossing
them aside without care.
Sable silk tumbled downward, covering the graceful line of her spine. Robert leaned forward and
inhaled her delicate fragrance. His hands cupped her elbows, and standing behind her still, he
urged her backward against him. “From what I see so far,” he whispered in a voice suggestive
with erotic need as he admired the upper swell of her breasts, “you are more than I imagined. But
I need to see it all.”
“I would not be here if I didn’t want everything.” Rebecca leaned willingly into his chest, her
bottom nestled with provocative softness against his thighs. “I trust you.”
His fingers drifting through her soft hair, he stopped, arrested, not sure if anyone had ever said
that to him before. I trust you. Certainly she must, to put her future in his hands. It was humbling,
and the idea of marriage crystallized into something else for him at that definitive moment,
something apart from his previous selfish reservations over his freedom being curtailed and his
life changing in an irrevocable way.
“You can trust me,” he assured her in a voice that reflected unexpected sincerity. “Anything you
wish to give me is safe.”
“Somehow, I have known that from the beginning.” She must be telling the truth, or she wouldn’t
be there now, in his arms, half naked. If she gave her virginity, there was no taking it back.
No going back for either of them.
Holding her in the circle of his arms, he reached around and slowly pulled free the ribbon on her
bodice. Cloth parted, the shadow between her breasts deepened, and the garment slid downward,
exposing pale opulent flesh, taut and firm, her nipples a delicate coral. His gaze strayed lower, to
the dainty patch of pubic hair between her slim thighs, those dark curls beckoning his fingers.
And mouth, though maybe it was better to not be too wicked for her first time, no matter what she
said. He’d be gentle, he promised himself, the fierce strain of his cock against the confinement of
his breeches making him grit his teeth, use every bit of finesse he possessed and not rush things. .
. .
“Hurry,” Rebecca said, her head falling back against his shoulder, “touch me. Do something. I’m
—I don’t know.”
The request inundated his already heated blood and briefly he wondered if her eagerness was a
result of this unmistakable chemistry between them or an innate sensuality. If he was lucky, it
was both, he decided, and lifted her into his arms.
“Don’t worry. I’m going to touch you.” His voice was far from the practiced insouciance of his
normal bedroom tones. Usually he teased, tempted, played at dalliance and desire. This was
different. “I’m going to touch you so deeply you will never forget it, never forget this night.” He
laid her on the bed, his gaze admiring every detail of long legs, the sensuous curve of womanly
hips, the fullness of those lavish breasts. Rich, glossy hair spilled everywhere, the contrast of dark
against the white linens evocative of the superlative paintings of the old masters, when female
beauty was an object to be revered and studied.
And her eyes—so long lashed, and that unusual luminous color, reminiscent of the sea under a
summer sun—watched as he sat down to remove his boots and then stood to unfasten his
breeches. Rebecca made no secret of studying his erection, her soft lips parting in . . . surprise?
Admiration? Trepidation?
“You’re huge.” Her gaze was riveted.
Robert let out a smothered laugh and joined her on the bed. His hand smoothed her bare hip. “But
then again, darling, you have nothing to compare me to, do you?”
“No, but—”
He kissed her, trying to tamp down this first flicker of virginal misgiving, drawing her close
enough his erect cock brushed her hip but no more, to get her used to his arousal and intentions.
With reverent exploration he traced the graceful line of her spine, the dip of her waist, the arc of
her rib cage, until he cupped one of her perfect breasts. The warm, supple weight filled his hand
to overflowing. At the intimate caress, she quivered.
“Perfect,” Robert told her, his lips grazing her cheek to her ear. He whispered, “You’re perfect.
Designed just for me. How many men have thought about being here like this, with you?”
The speculation was so out of character he was stunned by the question he’d just asked. To his
surprise, he was jealous of those unknown fantasies, just as he’d stood in brooding disquiet
watching her waltz in the arms of would-be suitors earlier in the evening.
“I can’t think about anyone else, not now. There are only the two of us in the whole world.”
Rebecca turned her head and kissed his shoulder as he fondled one luscious breast.
She was right. The men who had wanted her in the past were banished. They’d lost and he’d won.
He said softly, “No. There’s no one but you and me.”
In that one short quiet sentence, so loaded with meaning, all the lovers from his dissolute past
were also set aside forever.
“I’m ready,” she whispered, “whenever you are.”
He was more than ready, and her naïve declaration brought a smile to his face, for he doubted she
was there quite yet, and despite her willing acquiescence and responsiveness so far, he had every
intention of making this moment not so much a denouement as a beginning.
“You will be,” he murmured with a sinful grin as he bent his head, “soon.”
When he took one taut erect nipple into his mouth, her shuddering sigh was an ample reward.
“Robert.” His name was a single exhale, poignant with meaning.
He applied himself to seduction, to the exquisite pleasure he intended to give her, to the magic of
this unique moment for both of them. Normally he could be detached except on a physical level
with his paramours, but the woman in his arms wasn’t in that category.
He moved. She moved in heated response. His mouth sought out the erect tips of her breasts as
his fingers found the moist tightness between her legs. With every suckle, every stroke, Rebecca
shifted restlessly, her lis
some body temptation incarnate, the brush of her skin against his almost
more than he could take, his supposed sophistication be damned.
Carefully he tasted and teased her lush breasts while at the same time he rotated his hand in slow,
tantalizing circles against the parted folds of her damp cleft. She clutched his shoulders and
moaned, far less shy than he would have expected, her legs parted to allow him access. The
delicate fragrance drifting from her skin and the more earthy scent of female arousal inflamed his
senses—and he was already on fire. “Tell me how good it feels,” he urged, exerting just the right
amount of pressure, feeling wetness with deep satisfaction, the nub beneath his fingertips
swelling.
Rebecca arched, her erect nipples brushing his chest.
“It feels . . . oh . . . I . . .”
The incoherent answer was exactly what he was looking for, and he knew she was close to
climax, both from the deepening color in her lovely face and the frantic clutch of her hands. He
deliberately licked her lower lip in a sensuous glide. “Just wait. I think you are almost to the
breaking point, my sweet.”
When it came, a cry of surprise and pleasure tore from her throat and perceptible shudders rocked
her slender body. Robert watched with heavy-lidded eyes, not sure he wasn’t going to spend
himself then and there just from the joy of being the one to give her the first taste of orgasmic
bliss.
And he had only just begun.
She wanted a wicked tutorial. This was going to be a match made in heaven, for he certainly
qualified as an instructor. He slid upwards, between her still spread legs and positioned himself
with his cock just touching her small opening, his smile leisurely though his body was tense as a
bowstring, waiting for her to recover enough to open her eyes. Braced on his elbows above her
quivering body, he saw her eyelids flutter upward.
“Now,” he said succinctly, “you’re ready.”
“That was . . .” She stopped, and then gave a choked laugh. “I haven’t completed a sentence since
we disrobed, have I?”
“A good sign.” Robert moved enough to test the give of her passage, beginning his penetration
into her body with slow pressure. “The most pleasurable way on earth to render a woman
speechless.”
She realized what he was doing, her eyes widening.
“Like this.” He reached down and lifted her leg so it was bent at the knee, setting her foot down
on the bed. “The more open you are, the easier this will be.”
With encouraging alacrity, Rebecca moved to do the same with her other leg, her thighs spread
open for his entrance, her gaze holding his with poignant emotion, her smile winsome and
remarkably lacking in fear.
I trust you.
Never had he been so careful, so restrained, so consumed with lust he thought he’d combust.
When he breached the barrier of her maidenhead and saw the flinch of pain, Robert kissed her
then, her forehead, the tip of her nose, her lips in slow soft sips to reassure and comfort. “It will
get better,” he whispered, “I vow it. Much, much better.”
“I’m not a delicate flower,” Rebecca responded with surprising humor, her grip on his biceps
easing. “And just because I love you, it doesn’t mean I don’t expect you to live up to your
reputation, Lord Robert. If your virtuosity is so legendary, show me why.”
I love you.
“You say it so easily,” Robert murmured in response, his needy cock urging him to move but
emotion holding him still. His voice was raw. “Rebecca, I . . .”
Maybe it was a woman’s intuition, but she knew exactly the right thing to say. “Just show me.”
The entreaty was whisper soft.
And when he did, when he moved in her with slow sure strokes until she began to gasp, then
moan, and finally cry out, his own pleasure was made more acute by her uninhibited enjoyment
until, when the first telling ripple tightened around his thrusting cock, the burst of rapture shook
his whole body as he drove deep and lost himself.
In her encircling arms, in her luscious body, in her soul.
Chapter Twenty-two
Misunderstandings are inevitable. They will rise to the surface when you least expect them and
confound you both. How you handle the outcome of each one is a measure of your affection for
each other.
From the chapter titled: “The Art of the Argument”
There he was again. It seemed incredible, but she was being followed.
Sure enough, the figure skulked in the doorway of the tobacco shop across the street. Narrowing
her eyes, Brianna felt a surge of irritation and unease, wondering if she should report this to the
authorities. After all, her husband was a rich man, and if someone wanted to kidnap her, she
should be on the alert.
This was the third day in a row she had spotted him, and she was becoming more and more
convinced the odd little man in the brown checked cap was trailing her. She’d first seen him
when she’d forgotten her reticule in the carriage and had to go back outside in a hurry, almost
bumping into him in her haste. It had meant nothing at the time, but then she’d glimpsed him
again the next day.
Though he was dressed differently, he’d been there the day after that also. By the third sighting,
Brianna went back into the shop, asked the wife of the milliner, a stout woman who ran the front
part of the establishment, if there was a back exit she could use. Though obviously surprised, the
woman directed her to a door at the rear, and accepted some coin to send her clerk outside in an
hour or so to instruct Brianna’s driver to take the carriage home. Something about the woman’s
expression told Brianna that the vagaries of the rich and titled were to be met with resignation,
and Brianna slipped into the alley behind the shop with a feeling of liberation.
She wasn’t sure if her ploy was necessary, but she nurtured a child inside her and that precious
life, growing more real as time passed, meant the world. It was prudent to be careful.
It was a pleasant day, if a bit cool, and the sky of cerulean blue above held just the slightest
dusting of clouds. When she had gone a good ways down the alley, skirting some very dubious
piles of rubbish, Brianna let herself in the back entrance of a tobacco shop, apologized to the
startled proprietor, and regained the street.
Arabella lived not too far away, and since the weather was agreeable, it wasn’t a hardship to walk
to the Bonham’s townhouse, just off St. James. When she arrived, she was told to her relief Lady
Bonham was home. Moments later, she was ushered into an informal sitting room upstairs and
her friend rose to greet her. “Bri, how nice of you to call.”
Brianna forced a smile. “I am sorry to just drop in, but it seemed expedient.”
“Expedient?” Arabella motioned her to a chair and frowned. “That’s a curious thing to say.”
Brianna sat down. Though the queasiness was something she’d learned to deal with, she still had
an attack now and again. “Could I have perhaps have a very weak cup of tea?”
“Of course.” Arabella reached for the bellpull. “Is it the baby? Good heavens, you’re pale
suddenly. Do you need to lie down?”
“A little tea will do the tri
ck,” Brianna assured her. When the beverage arrived, she sipped
gratefully, then waited for the nausea to subside. “I’m just a little upset,” she said with a watery
smile. “Thank you for being home.”
During her walk, a very unpleasant suspicion had occurred to her, and she needed to talk to
someone.
Arabella looked concerned. “Whatever is the matter? You don’t look at all like yourself.”
“I am not even sure where to start. Or if I should start.”
That made her friend blink. “Please pick a point. You are talking in circles.”
“I don’t mean to, but that rather seems to be my life lately.” Brianna took another drink from her
cup and felt fortified enough to set it aside. “I’ve told Colton he and I are going to have a child.”
Arabella nodded in approval. “I can only imagine your husband’s delight.”
“One would think he would be delighted.”
The Countess of Bonham frowned. “What does that mean? He’s happy, isn’t he?”
“So he claims.” Brianna turned to look out one of the mullioned windows and fought tears. “He
says he is. But I am not so sure. He treats me differently. And now this.”
“Whatever do you mean? What this?” Arabella asked after a moment.
“I am being followed around. At least I think so. By some horrid little man in a brown hat. I’ve
seen him now and then, and really, while in the course of going through life you do encounter
coincidences, this does not seem like one at all.”
“I don’t understand.”
Brianna shook her head. “I don’t understand either, but I can tell you it would not surprise me—
considering how moody he’s been lately—if Colton has something to do with it. He has asked me
the most bizarre questions, and he acts as if he’s glad about the baby, yet not glad at the same
time. Oh, I am not describing it well, but suffice to say, it has me at a loss as to what to do. Why
would my husband have me followed?”
Arabella opened her mouth to respond but just let it hang open for a moment before she snapped
it shut. Then she flushed and looked away, squaring her shoulders.
Brianna watched the process with interest, her inner turmoil making her stomach still churn.
“What?” she asked flatly with the familiarity of long acquaintance. “If you know something,