“And vice versa,” he murmured, his free hand encircling her neck and pulling her toward his mouth. “I like how readily you accept that my bedchamber is now yours.”
“Am I presumptuous? I should not have…”
Sebastian halted her words with an open kiss delving deeply into the glory of her mouth for long enough that Georgiana had almost forgotten the topic of conversation when her released her. “I love that you are presumptuous, Georgiana! My preference is you never leaving our bed. Never. Somehow I doubt I will be separating from your warm body no matter what brilliant tunes may be running through my brain. Now,” he went on briskly before the mental images augmented by the sensual cast to her face drove rational thought away, “I have another song I wrote for you, one meant for your ears only.”
He kissed her again, short and chaste, delivered a smoldering gaze over her body, and transferred the hand he still held tight against his chest to rest on his thigh. Patting the back of her hand, the message clear that he wanted it to stay there, he then sat straight and turned his attention to the pianoforte keys.
Georgiana’s senses reeled. Her head spun from the blood surging through her heated veins. How many bars were played before she could concentrate on anything other than the feel of the hard thigh muscle under her palm she never knew. The sonata augmented the delirium that was rising by the second due to his closeness, the feel of his muscles, and the smell of his spicy cologne. The beauty of Sebastian’s smooth notes and the romantic lyrics sung in his melodious tenor penetrated through the haze, and as she listened, her emotions soared.
The euphonious tones were played in tempos ranging from a slow andante to moderato, the lyric ballad meant to soothe and move the heart. Each stanza was of a fixed meter, not perfectly rhyming but with an identical rhythm. Alternating in French and English, Sebastian sang of their unique courtship from the perspective of his evolving emotions for his bride. He sang of how his admiration and respect grew to friendship before then escalating to love and passion. He sang of his denial and despair and joy. He sang of his hope for their future.
Through the entire sonata, he kept his eyes steady upon her face. Every line was uttered as a direct message of his heart delivered to her via music. And when he ended the last word and removed his fingers from the keys the final chord was still echoing around the chamber as she entered his embrace and hungrily sought his kiss.
She could not say how long it was when he pulled away from her lips and arms. She did not have a chance to feel bereft because he quickly rose from the bench to stand behind her, grasped her under the elbows, and lifted her to her feet. As if by magic the bench no longer separated them, Georgiana supported in his arms with her back pressed against his chest.
“Sebastian,” she moaned, melting into his body, her head resting on his shoulder.
“Did you like your song?”
“Yes,” she breathed, shivering at the exquisite impression of his tongue and lips tasting the skin around her ear.
“I have titled it My Friend and My Love, Georgiana, as a reminder of all that you are to me. My friend, the woman I love, and now my wife. I love you more every day I pass with you, and after tonight, I know my love for you will surpass every imagining and expectation.”
Georgiana closed her eyes and gave in to the myriad sensations bombarding her. Pleasure radiated from dozens of places inside and outside her body, and every one was generated by Sebastian in some way.
One of his strong arms encircled her waist with long fingers caressing her hip. He held her gently but firmly against his body, Georgiana able to discern each respiration and heartbeat. The flex of his muscles, press of his lips, and prod of his hardened manhood were easily detected by her sensitized flesh. His other hand stroked across her belly and up her side to then brush the outer swell of her breast. Traveling as leisurely as possible, he skimmed under her arm, slipping between their bodies to run up her shoulder blade and across to eventually cup her jaw and turn her face toward his, bending to bestow a searing kiss.
Time faded and so did the room around her. Georgiana no longer had any concept of reality beyond Sebastian and how he dazzled her wits and stoked her internal fire to a blaze of desire. Overwhelmed, oh so blissfully overwhelmed! Fiercely alive and breathlessly hazy all at once, she mused in wonder. She clutched onto the arm round her waist and lifted the other hand to hold fast to his head, pouring her soul vigorously into the kiss and pressing her whole body forcibly backward.
Groaning from the depths of his chest, Sebastian broke the kiss and rested his forehead against her cheek. His harsh breaths gushed down her chest, goose bumps rising and her nipples hardening more than they already were. Her body screamed for More! More! even while her mind, whirling at the onslaught of sensations, needed a respite. Thankfully, perhaps, he offered that by withdrawing minimally, although still holding on tightly just as she was.
“Time…” he wheezed, pausing to swallow and raggedly inhale. “I want to… It is time to release your hair, love. These combs are lovely but not as lovely as your hair. God, I love your hair, Georgiana!”
The three combs were removed one by one and tossed onto the piano bench, Sebastian releasing his hold about her waist to embed both hands into the thick tresses at the nape of her neck, his fingers splayed to capture the silky curls in between. Sighing contentedly, he buried his face into the lush locks spilling over and falling midway down her back. Fresh shivers cascaded down Georgiana’s back as he repeatedly raked through her hair and lifted handfuls aside to kiss her neck. Devotedly, he played with and teased each curl, her legs weakening from the bliss engendered from this simple act.
“Sweet scent of rose water. Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with awe and lust. “I want you, precious wife. Can you tell how fervid my hunger for you?” Georgiana was unable to manage more than a feeble nod, although a verbal answer was not necessary since it was impossible to mistake his ardor and physical response.
Blurrily, she hoped he recognized how powerful her desire for him, even if the intensity of her passion threatened to buckle her knees and shred her final vestiges of coherency. Seconds later, her fears came true when his hands suddenly left her hair and cupped her breasts, each thumb rubbing over her rock hard nipples and sending a bolt of pure sexual electricity straight through to her core.
“Oh God!” she gasped as her body sagged and would have crumbled to the carpeted floor if Sebastian had been slower to react.
“I have you,” he said with a gravelly chuckle. His clench was solid around her waist and under her bosom, one palm still warmly encompassing a breast with the thumb pressing against the nipple. “Perhaps we should take this to the bed. I think I have moved too fast, have I, my love? I know I could use a moment before I lose control. No need to rush what promises to be a perfect night. Come. Let me help you relax. How does a glass of wine sound?”
While soothing in his melodic timbre, he steered to the bed, turning her around to face him for the first time in what felt like hours of sensual play. His smile was radiant and smug, cheeks ruddy, and eyes glistening silver. Georgiana knew she presented a similar picture and not just because she could see her reflection in his brilliant eyes. Yet her thoughts were only on his countenance. As abruptly as her senses had lurched when he touched her breasts, they now leapt anew.
He is stunning! Handsome. Desirable. Mine!
“Kiss me.”
He did.
Slowly. Softly. Tenderly. Leisurely.
Gentle caresses of his tongue across her parted lips and tiny nibbles with his teeth. Sedately, he stroked the flushed flesh of her neck and shoulders, the gauzy robe sliding off her shoulders and fluttering to the floor just as she wilted and crushed her breasts against his chest.
“Sweet merciful heavens,” he rasped. “I do need to lay you down before you fall. Or before we both fall. I think we need to breathe. Let me plump these pillows. Climb on in, love. It is a very comfortable bed. Are you cold at all? No? Then just
the sheet should do. There. Scoot a bit so I will have room beside you. Is this better? Excellent! Now, how about that glass of wine? A Sauvignon Blanc from France that I know you love.”
He knelt onto the bed with one knee, bending near to kiss her forehead and lightly stroke her chin. “I will only be a minute,” he whispered, smiling as he began to pull away.
“Wait! Take your shirt off!”
Sebastian’s brows rose, his eyes glancing at the hand cinched around his wrist then back to her startled eyes and white teeth biting her lip. The blush spreading from chin to forehead revealed her shock at the impulsive command, Sebastian grinning crookedly and chuckling.
“As you wish, my lady. I am yours to command and please in any way you deem possible.”
No disrobing fanfare other than to randomly chuck the garment into the air, and he was kneeling on the mattress with bare torso inches away from her gaze. His grin widened as she boldly scrutinized the fair skin covering his straight, broad shoulders, the lean but defined muscles scattered with tawny hair leading in a thin trail down his flat, hard abdomen to then disappear underneath the band of his pants. The physical evidence as to the degree of his arousal was clearly noticed as her blush deepened to crimson, although she did not remove her gaze as rapidly as he may have suspected she would. When she did lift her eyes to his face, the mixture of embarrassment and brazen appreciation caused him to laugh.
“Now, some wine.”
Georgiana could not have torn her gaze from his figure if her life depended on it. In fact, it felt as if her life depended on keeping him in her sight, and studying him in the process. She would be lying if she said her mind had never imagined his unclothed physique. Those speculations were birthed as far back as Lyon with the de Valdays and only grew alarmingly stronger and frequent as their wedding night approached. Yet he was superior to her feeble fabrications. Far superior.
Then he turned from the table with a glass of wine in each hand, sure-footed and graceful as he crossed the short space. His skin and hair gleamed in the candlelight, handsome face and stupendous body filling her view and looming large as he came closer. Abruptly, she heard the voices of the de Valdays—yummy enough to eat… kiss, touch, squeeze… think of all the wonders to be enjoyed with such a man…
Only it did not sound like the de Valdays but rather like her own voice!
“What did you say?” Sebastian asked, his brow quirked and crooked grin in place.
“Nothing!” she choked, grabbing the wine from his hand and gulping half the liquid in one swallow.
“My mistake. I thought I heard something about kissing, but it was probably my thoughts ringing inside my brain. The wine is delicious and to your liking, I presume.”
Georgiana knew he was teasing, she having obviously spoken aloud, and she was both embarrassed and amused. Hiding her flaming face behind a curtain of hair and sipping steadily to squelch the threatening giggles, she nodded an affirmative.
“I happen to enjoy a nice white wine from time to time,” he continued, speaking casually as if discussing the weather, “but in general my palate prefers a more robust Cabernet. Or once in a while a light claret is appealing. Port I cannot abide, a point de Marcov likes to tease me about since it is considered a manly option.”
During his calming exposition, he settled onto the bed beside her, reclining against the pillows with his right side touching hers. Stretching his long legs underneath the sheet, he entwined his feet with her smaller ones, toes tickling and caressing. Lastly, still without breaking stride in his speech, he enfolded the hand lying slack on her thigh, fingers lacing between and curling around.
“I remembered your expressed preference for Corcelles-en-Beaujolais Sauvignon Blanc so purchased a case before we left France…”
“You did?” She raised her gaze to his in surprise. “How thoughtful! Thank you.”
“You are welcome, love. I wish I could say it was an onerous task and thus earn greater respect for my efforts, but alas, it was easily accomplished.” He smiled, lifted her hand to kiss the back, after which he returned them both to their place on her thigh, took a sip of wine, and resumed in the same conversational tone.
“The bottles are safely stowed and will accompany us on our journey north. Ah, Georgiana! I hunger to show you my home! Staffordshire is similar to Derbyshire, so I know you will love the countryside. There are innumerable places of interest and sharing them with you will be a delight. Then to culminate our holiday at Whistlenell Hall will be a pinnacle of satisfaction for me. It will appease my heart to know you have dwelt in your new home for a spell before we return to Paris.”
On he spoke, his lush tenor enthusiastically describing his ancestral country and the manor house he was born in. He painted vivid pictures of the hills and rivers, small boroughs and large cities, historic places and modern marvels of Staffordshire. The estate grounds and Tudor-style Whistlenell Hall came alive in her mind.
It was certainly not the first time he had talked about his home. Nothing he said was new, and Georgiana found her mind lulled and body unwinding. Unconsciously, she slumped against him, her head falling onto his shoulder and drained wine glass rolling out of her hand to lay forgotten on the mattress.
Contented minutes passed before Georgiana’s numbed mind gradually awoke to several considerations. First was the shocking realization that she was pressed tightly against his body with a gorgeous naked torso begging to be investigated! Second, as her eyes focused anew on his flesh and scanned downward, was that the prominent bulge previously noted—and felt—as an unmistakable indication of his desire to make love to her was significantly diminished.
Dismay pierced her heart followed swiftly by fierce irritation. The anger was directed wholly at herself. She knew what he was doing, dear wonderful considerate man that he was. In a selfless effort to calm her nervousness, Sebastian was dampening his need.
The next consideration, fueled by infuriated recriminations, was that the last thing she wanted was for their wedding night to end with her foolishly falling asleep or childishly shrinking away from what she logically knew would be a glorious consummation. All of it combined to fan the flame of her passion into a sudden inferno that blazed even higher when he jerked and gasped seconds later at the simple maneuver of her hand brushing boldly across his upper chest.
“Sebastian,” she whispered, looking into his startled eyes, “thank you for understanding my nervousness and soothing me. But I do not want to hear about pastureland or architecture. I want to be your wife.”
Then she kissed him, deeply, while simultaneously stroking down the middle of his chest and abdomen, over the edge of his pants to firmly press her palm onto his groin.
His response was astounding! Every muscle twitched, shivers rippling head to toe. Instantly, the flesh under her hand hardened and expanded, the shape defined to her seeking fingers even through the fabric. His arms encircled and grasped her, pulling her into his body. The kiss wildly escalated, groans and hoarse pants lodging in his chest.
It was crazed, fervent, and animalistic.
And Georgiana wanted more.
Careful, conscious thought was gone. Passion and instinct drove them. Yet as ferocious as the subsequent interlude, it was also beautiful, tenderly loving, romantic, and magical.
Georgiana would forever remember every movement, sensation, spoken adoration, impulsive exclamation, and involuntary cry.
She marveled at the heat of his skin, it soft and mildly ticklish from the hairs gliding underneath her palms while the muscles underneath were solid. In amazement, she perceived the intensity of his reaction to her touch and it emboldened her to explore and mimic his maneuvers. If her excitement was increased by his hand stroking under her gown up her bare leg, buttocks, and hip until reaching her sensitive female areas for direct stimulation, then she assumed he would enjoy this as well.
Sebastian immediately comprehended her intent and assisted with the hasty removal of his trousers, his sigh of relief from
the uncomfortable confinement melding into a guttural groan when she wasted no time in carrying out her own direct stimulation. Within seconds his arousal significantly multiplied, Georgiana exhilarated by his wild writhing and panting and furious resumption of his exploration to her body.
A heartbeat later she was astride his hips, reflexively swaying and rocking against the pressure of his arousal. It was pleasure unimaginable. Then he removed her gown, both of them naked and blissfully entwined, his mouth and tongue accompanying his hands and fingers in a concerted effort to rouse.
Oh, how well it worked!
The last vestiges of rational thought evaporated from the fire of lust scorching through her body. Her only thought was the craving for more of him, all of him, to ease the ache of need.
“Please!” she rasped, opening her eyes to dazedly meet his. “I want… you, Sebastian. Please, now.”
He nodded, his eyes drunk with passion and immeasurable love, and groped around the bedside table until encountering a jar she had not noticed. “This ointment will help with the pain. I do not wish to hurt you, dearest.”
She opened her mouth to reassure him, but the words were lost to a gasping moan when, with a simple shift of his hips, he was poised and began the incredible process of making her his wife. Slow at first, then gradually in paced undulating movements, she accustomed herself to the strange but marvelous feeling. It was stupendous.
Yet it was not nearly enough.
Georgiana felt his body shaking. His brow was furrowed and the hands encircling her waist trembled with the effort to avoid losing control.
“There is no reason to hold back, my love. I am not a china doll and I want you.”
And with that proclamation she grabbed hold of his face, initiated a fierce kiss, and plunged downward hard until he was fully encased within her. Searing pain burst through her belly but she had anticipated this. Her cry of distress was stifled and drowned by Sebastian’s unrestrained shout of ecstasy. The damn burst and his efforts to proceed cautiously disappeared. Tenaciously, he clutched on to her, thrusting deep and fast again and again, each stroke igniting rivers of pain but also surges of euphoria.
Miss Darcy Falls in Love Page 28
