by Sahara Kelly
Her breath caught and she willingly welcomed him, finding her arms already locked around his neck and her feet almost off the floor as he held her so closely.
“Colly,” she whispered, shivering a little at the tremors shaking her knees.
“I’ve waited as long as I can stand it,” he said, still holding her tightly. “Once it’s known I’m gone, and that’ll take all of five minutes, you’ll be inundated with visitors eager to gossip. You’ll need your own secretary and all the trappings that go along with being my wife. But tonight, love, tonight…it’s just us. A man and a woman. And our wedding night ahead of us.”
She couldn’t help the ripple of excitement shuddering through her body as she pulled his head back to hers. “Yes, Colly. Oh please yes…”
It was all he needed to hear.
Chapter Fourteen
Undressing in what was to be her room from now on, Ivy couldn’t help but notice her hands shaking a little as she unfastened the pins from her hair. It wasn’t long enough to require attention from Barnes, and she’d shooed the woman away for the night once her gown had been removed and her nightclothes laid out.
Getting used to a personal maid would take some doing, but Ivy understood that it was all part and parcel of her new title. Had she wanted all these trappings? Heavens, no. But marrying a Duke came with its own set of rules, and she must now abide by them.
She walked to her dressing table and paused, seeing herself in the mirror, a slight figure in delicate white silk, red hair tumbled to her shoulders and with eyes wide and nervous. Tonight she would lie with her husband for the first time.
The matter was not unknown to her; a certain book, Cerulean Tales, had been quietly made available to her a year or so ago. Elvina had given her to understand that this volume might shock her, but there were matters she should know before she considered marrying anyone. This book set them all out in black and white.
Entranced by the concept of a brothel controlled by women who selected their clients, rather than the other way around, Ivy had read it from cover to cover. She knew that Colly would insert himself inside her, and that it might hurt a little. But she also knew that there were other things they might do, pleasurable experiences for them both.
And he’d already shown her the beginnings of such pleasures.
All this practical knowledge was comforting, but even so, there was still a part of her that shivered a little at the thought of surrendering her virginity.
And the longer she stood around thinking about it, the worse it was going to get. She lifted her chin, straightened her nightgown, and marched to the door that connected to her husband’s suite.
Steeling herself, she gently tapped on the thick dark wood panelling.
It swung open immediately, and there he was, standing and smiling at her, garbed in a rather flamboyant silk dressing gown.
“Oh my.” She blinked at the colours. “Is that a dragon?”
He nodded. “A gift from a Chinese official when I was travelling several years ago. I’ve always liked it.”
“I can see why,” she approved. “It’s very exotic.”
“Come in,” he stepped back. “I wasn’t sure whether you’d come to me, or if I should come to you.”
“It seemed logical,” she answered absently, looking around his bedroom with curiosity. “But if I was wrong, do tell me.” She glanced back at him. “I shall make mistakes, you know.”
“As will I,” he said, reaching for her hand and drawing her inside, closing the door behind him. “But this isn’t one of them.”
“I…” She stilled as he neared her. “I’m not sure what to do, Colly.”
“That’s quite all right,” he touched her gently. “I am.”
He pulled her close, then took her breath away by suddenly picking her up in his arms and carrying her toward his massive bed.
“Eeeek…” she squeaked.
“Romantic, isn’t it? I’ve always wanted to do this.” He paused. “Hmm.” Then he simply dropped her onto the bed where she bounced into the quilt.
“Ooof.”
He frowned a little. “I’ll have to work on the last bit.” Then he tumbled after her, landing half on her and half beside her, all silk dressing gown and hard limbs. “But this I like to think I’m close to perfecting…”
He kissed her, holding her down with his weight, and she eagerly parted her lips, knowing now the pleasure of his tongue, his taste, and the scent of him against her.
But this time there was the additional delight of heat, the warmth of his skin against the thin silk of her nightgown. His robe was slipping away, leaving him naked against her, and her hands took advantage, stroking the firm planes of his back, learning the textures of him, even as he continued to kiss her, caressing her tongue with his, and moving against her, sliding his knee between her legs and pushing the delicate silk from her thighs.
She moaned, a sound that seemed to emanate from somewhere deep inside her lungs, and he drew back. “I’m crushing you,” he muttered, moving more to the side.
“No, no,” she grabbed him. “It’s……wonderful. You feel…” Her hands roamed over his chest, feeling the whorls of hair, tracing it down his belly, and noticing how his body tensed as her hand moved lower.
“Fair play,” he said, tugging at the drawstrings of her nightgown.
Having passed beyond the point of maidenly modesty, Ivy was quite ready to assist the Duke in his goal of removing her clothing. This was the right time, the right place, and the right man. She wanted to touch every bit of him, to learn his secrets, understand his body the way she hoped he would understand hers.
Her explorations continued unabated after she’d discarded that bit of silky nuisance, and she pushed him onto his back, which allowed her free rein to touch just about anywhere she wanted.
He seemed quite ready to comply, settling himself comfortably and watching her by the light of the few candles that still burned beside the bed.
“Oh my.” Reaching the base of his stomach and the nest of dark hair, Ivy blinked at the length of him, hard and jutting outward toward her. Her hand drifted toward it—then she paused and glanced at him. “You’re…well, you’re very…er…well-endowed, Colly. May I touch you?”
His response sounded a bit strained. “Of course.”
“You’ll let me know if I hurt you?”
He cleared his throat. “You’ll hurt me if you don’t touch me, Ivy,” he ground out.
“All right.” She returned to his cock, fascinated by the ripple of veins and the soft skin covering what felt like a rod of iron.
She grasped it firmly and darted a quick look at him as he made an odd wheezing sound. But he nodded. “It’s quite all right. That is…is…most pleasing.”
She noted the shifting tension within his thigh muscles as she ran her hand over him and then discovered the sac beneath. This, she knew, held precious treasures and she handled them with gentle movements, intrigued by their weight and shape. “How amazing,” she whispered, rolling them in her palm.
“Thank you.” His voice sounded wheezy.
The candlelight glittered briefly, distracting her because it flickered on the tip of his cock. Leaning close, she discovered a tiny drop of moisture. Tentatively she touched it, swirling it around with her fingertip.
“Ivy—” he groaned. “Enough.”
One moment she was touching him, and the next she was flat on her back with him looming above. He settled himself, that lovely length nestling between her thighs. To her amazement she felt moisture and knew it was from her, not him.
How incredible this was; the differences between them matched by the similarities of their responses. The feel of him against her skin, the rough hairs on his legs as they pushed hers apart—and then the touch of his lips as he slithered down to find her breast.
Oh dear God above.
She was not prepared for the lightning bolt of almost painful pleasure that shot through her body to her loins. He suck
led her, teasing her nipple to ripe hardness with his mouth while teasing the other with tiny pinches and flicks from his fingers.
She wriggled, half in delight and half in protest. The sensations were overwhelming, but he knew how to balance them, it seemed, because after a few moments he would pull his mouth away from her and then breathe on the damp skin, adding yet another sensation to the ones she already struggled with, another delight to the ones adding up.
Her hips were behaving most oddly, rising of their own accord, and rubbing against him.
As if he could understand that silent request, he let one hand drift down to find her swollen folds, slick now with her own hot juices.
He played, dividing his attention between her breasts and that spot that made her whimper with need. It didn’t take too long before she was breathing heavily and almost sobbing as he continued his sensual assault.
“You’re very wet, Ivy. I think you’re ready for me.” His voice was rough.
She tensed. “You’re a big man, Colly,” she said hesitantly, apprehensive in spite of her arousal. “Go slowly?”
He nodded. “I’ll try.”
She couldn’t help a tiny tremor of fear as she felt the first intrusion of a man’s cock between the slick lips guarding her virginity.
But the sensation thrilled her, and already she could feel her body preparing itself for Colly, for his penetration.
She found that bending her knees a little was a help and Colly took some of his weight on his hands as he looked down their bodies to where they were becoming joined. Just that moment alone, the sensually erotic knowledge that she was taking a man inside her and giving as much pleasure as she was getting—she relaxed and felt a tiny snap within as he claimed her as his own.
“Ohhh…”
“Are you all right?” Colly froze. “Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head. “An odd feeling, that’s all. I’m fine. Colly, I’m fine. It’s amazing.” She looked at his face. “You’re inside me.” Experimentally, she tightened her lower muscles and he groaned aloud.
“You’ll be the death of me,” he whispered. “I have to move, love.”
“Then do so, by all means,” she whispered back.
Slowly at first, he moved deeper, then withdrew, setting up a rhythm that she found very arousing. Different parts of him were rubbing against the most sensitive parts of her, and any discomfort she might have experienced vanished, only to be replaced by another, different kind of sensation. One she knew.
“Colly,” she moaned, lifting her hips into his thrusts. “Oh Colly…”
“I know…” His words were more of a grunt and followed rapidly by a muted rush of sound as he thrust as deeply as he could.
Amazed, Ivy felt the tiny spasms inside her as he reached his release, filling her with his seed.
The ripples were enough to start her own response, and she cried out as she began to clamp onto his cock, her muscles taut, her inner channel shuddering around him, her breath a mere gasp as she soared out of her body and into a vortex of magnificent sensation.
They held each other, locked together, sharing this most exquisite moment of completion until the trembling breaths they held turned into gasps of exhaustion and by mutual agreement they tumbled apart, panting.
“I feel like a landed fish, gasping on the bank.” She stared at the canopy, wondering if all her body parts were where they were supposed to be.
“An odd analogy, but essentially accurate,” answered Colly, also panting a little. He raised himself on one elbow and looked at her. “So, your Grace. Are you well?” He pushed a curl away from her eye and smiled.
“Never better, your Grace,” she grinned back. “Can we do this again? Every night?”
His smile broadened. “I am yours to command. We can do this whenever you like.” He glanced down the length of her body. “But truth insists I point out that we should not repeat this tonight. You gave me the gift of your virginity, Ivy. I treasure it as I treasure you. But the giving does not go completely unnoticed. Your body is going to need a bit of time to recover.”
“Um.” She thought about that as he eased himself off the bed. He had a very nice bottom, she noted. Firm and round.
He returned with a cloth and made her squeak with embarrassment as he cleaned her intimate places. “You shouldn’t…” she protested.
“Hush. You’ll sleep more comfortably.” He finished his task, then pulled the covers over her.
“Here? You want me to sleep here?” She gaped at him over the edge of the quilt.
He returned to the bed and slid in beside her. “Where else?”
Pulling her close, he tucked her bottom up against him and snugged her into his body. “This is our bed, sweetheart. I hope you will sleep here every night.”
“Mmm.”
The warmth of him was a wondrous sensation, completely unexpected, but most delightful. Yes, she could certainly imagine herself sleeping here every night. Her heart sang at the thought even as she dozed, feeling oddly secure with his arms around her.
This was how it should be, she thought. Loving someone, trusting them, giving them the most precious of gifts.
Yes, she knew in her soul that she loved him. It had crept up quietly, but become strong enough to guide her actions, even as she sought for practical reasons to do what her heart was suggesting.
She’d married Colly because of the scandal, she’d told herself. But she knew now she’d lied. She was married to Colly because she’d fallen in love with him.
In the moments before sleep claimed her, one niggling doubt lingered.
At no point in this eventful night had he said he loved her.
Chapter Fifteen
It had not been easy to bid farewell to her new husband so soon after their wedding, but Ivy managed it, holding back tears until after she’d exchanged a final hug and waved goodbye to him.
She spared a moment to pray for the success of his journey, standing quietly on the front steps of Hartsmere House as the carriage turned the corner and was lost to sight.
“He’ll be fine, your Grace,” said Woodleigh at her side. “He’s not one to get himself into a foolish scrape.”
She couldn’t stop a quick sigh as she glanced at him. “I’m pleased to hear you say it, Woodleigh. I understand you’ve known him for many years, so I will trust your opinions above my own right now.”
He bowed approvingly and led her back inside. “It seems his Grace has once again made a very wise choice, Ma’am, if you’ll forgive my plain speaking. Now if you could see your way to making a small public appearance in a day or so on his behalf, it might serve to quell one or two of the adverse comments circulating about town.”
“What do you suggest?” She tilted her head and glanced at him as they walked across the impressive hall to the breakfast parlour.
“Lady Glenowen is a friend to the Maidenbrookes. She and the Duke’s late Mama were bosom bows at one time.”
“I have heard of her, I believe.”
“Well,” continued Woodleigh, “Her Ladyship hosts a book club, and invites all those interested to attend.”
“Ah.” Ivy waited for him to continue.
“Should you have a favourite novel you’d like to discuss with others, that is certainly the place to go. I understand many reputable ladies are in regular attendance. They meet once a month…”
“And the next one happens to be…?”
“Tomorrow, your Grace.” Woodleigh bowed.
“Hmm.” She considered the notion. “It would have been even better to take Prudence with me, but she doesn’t return for a couple more days yet.”
“I believe your Grace does have some acquaintances in town?”
Ivy ran through her list of close friends. There was really only one who would be the ideal companion. “I shall send a note to Lady Maud Sydenham today, Woodleigh, if you would have a messenger take it over in a little while?”
“Of course, your Grace.” He nodded respectf
ully.
“And have the carriage ready for me in plenty of time to get to Lady Glenowen’s tomorrow. I shall take great pleasure in discussing Sir Walter Scott’s latest publication which, it so happens, I finished a month ago.”
The two exchanged conspiratorial grins, and the deal was concluded.
Ivy’s mention of Prudence recalled that she had yet to speak with Sir Ronan or anyone from his crew about the progress of the fountain. With everything going on around her, that had pretty much skipped her mind.
Now that she was alone at Hartsmere, and with every right to be there, she was free to wander toward the rear of the house and check on any developments. Pulling back one of the heavy drapes covering a rear window, she blinked at the sight of a lovely and decorative arrangement of marble stones, topped with a delicate marble nymph, glowing brightly in the morning light.
It was perfect, and she stifled a little sigh of delight, instead hurrying to the door in the next room which led outside.
In her haste, she missed the figure rounding the corner and crashed headlong into the firm and masculine chest attached to Sir Ronan.
“And a lovely day to you too, Miss Ivy,” he grinned, holding her as she staggered.
“Oh goodness, I am so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention,” she said, struggling to free herself.
“My fault entirely. But it’s not every day one has the pleasure of cuddling a brand-new Duchess…” His lips quirked as he reluctantly let her go. “And my apologies. I forgot to address you correctly. I was overcome with the pleasure of that cuddle…”
“I wasn’t cuddling,” she protested. “I was merely steadying myself with your assistance.”
“Well, it felt like a cuddle to me,” he grinned. “But that’s neither here nor there. You’ll be after looking at the fountain, I’m thinking…”
She walked over to it, knowing he’d follow. “It is truly magnificent, Sir Ronan. You have outdone yourself.” She ran her fingers over the edge of the large shell into which the nymph would, apparently, empty her small jar. There were tasteful touches of marble carvings made to look like coral, and the plantings included tall spiked leaves and tiny multicoloured flowers edging the base.
