She rattled the door latch just as he attempted to open the door.
"Felicia, let me do this. If you please."
"I could hear the sneer in your voice, Hugh."
"You only imagined it," he lied.
"Hah!" She gave the handle another shake.
"Felicia, I cannot unlatch the door when you persist in that fashion."
"Then I shall do it."
"How about this?" he offered. "I shall open it on the count of three."
"Very well," Felicia answered, although the words were followed by a heavy sigh.
"One." Hugh's heart picked up pace.
"Two," she said, her voice a little softer than previously.
He opened his mouth to utter, "Three", but the door nearly crashed into him. He stepped back, shocked and exasperated and ready to scold his bride.
Until he saw her.
He couldn't breathe. His lungs ached with the effort. She was ethereally beautiful, clad in white sheer fabric, her hair falling around her in all the places he ached to touch. His bride—not blushing, no, not one whit—smiled triumphantly. Her eyes sparked with a passion she was clearly impatient to explore.
How could he hope to hold to his original plan? His forte had always been indulging his desires, not resisting them. Now his nerves were completely shot from denying his need for this maddening woman.
He raised a shaky hand and grasped the door, to steady himself while he pondered how to regain control of the situation.
The nearby fire popped, startling him. His hand slipped and the connecting door slammed shut.
"Hugh! Have you lost your wits?"
"Yes, I have," he answered. He re-opened the door and swept his arm out to indicate she should enter. "I can see I shall never have a moment's peace with you as my wife."
She narrowed her eyes as she passed by him, but he could see the mischief shining there. He could not help but laugh. This was nothing like the wedding night he had anticipated.
And he was enjoying every minute of it.
He started to offer her a chair, near the fireplace, but she marched straight to his bed and sat down. To his dismay, she wriggled her bottom until the edge of the mattress met the back of her knees. Her toes peeked out from beneath her nightrail, and she kicked her legs back and forth, as if she was dangling her feet in a stream.
"Would you care for some wine?" he managed, striding towards the bottle across the room.
"Yes, I would."
He splashed a healthy amount in a glass and knocked it back before refilling it. He poured a small measure into another glass, and returned to hand it to Felicia. He kept a tight grip on his own glass.
"Thank you," she said and took a small sip. "Oh, this is delicious." Felicia took another swallow, watching him over the rim of the glass. She focused her attention on his chest, exposed by his half-open shirt, and then briefly glanced lower at his breeches. Her eyebrows raised briefly, and her cheeks pinkened.
Hugh forced himself to savor his wine this time, but only because he did not want to take his eyes off her, not even for the amount of time to down his entire glass in one shot. How could he when she admired him so openly? He was not about to miss a moment of that.
She lowered the glass and then glanced around for someplace to set it. She twisted and somehow managed to stretch out nearly the entire length of the bed before she could set the glass down on the nearby table.
Her calves were completely exposed, displaying such enticing curves and smooth pink skin. The nightrail clung to her bottom, another display of curves that made him grip the chair next to him until his knuckles were white.
Finally she sat back up. "Hugh, you look pale." She smoothed the bed next to her. "Perhaps you should sit down for a moment."
"I believe you are correct." He pretended he had not seen her gesture and plopped down in the nearby wing chair.
Felicia laughed and then climbed down from the bed, making her way towards him. He had to fight to stay seated. She was such an extraordinary beauty, yet it was the fire and determination in her face that nearly unmanned him. How was he going to resist her? She was clearly not amenable to that notion.
Before he could stand up and try to move further away, she plopped down into his lap. The minx was going to kill him. There was no other possible outcome. He grasped her head, warning her with his eyes that he was too weak to resist her, but she did not care.
She placed her mouth on his. He responded with hunger, holding her so tight she could probably not breathe. But her lips were too delicious for him to stop. Everything she did, her moans, her tongue darting into his mouth, stoked his desire to an unbearable level.
"Stop," he told her, resting his forehead against hers. "We must stop."
"Why? I begin to believe you are avoiding me. Am I so frightening?"
He shook his head. "Of course not."
"Oh, then that can only mean I am not appealing to you." She frowned, crossing her arms at the same time.
"Felicia, I have no idea how you came to such a conclusion."
"Perhaps it is because you seem to want to spend our wedding night in two separate corners of this bedchamber."
He could not let his eyes continue to roam her delectable face. Her cheeks were rosy with her heightened emotion, and her crossed arms gave such a pronounced effect to her bosom. This night was one of the most uncomfortable he had ever had to endure.
"I merely wanted to give you time to become accustomed to this new situation," he began.
She burst out laughing. "Honestly, Hugh, you say the most outrageous things with such a stern countenance."
He could not help but grin. "Why is it so outrageous?"
"Have you forgotten I am the one who has been chasing you for weeks?"
"Of course I have not forgotten. But this is still a new enterprise for you, after all, and I mean to accommodate—stop giggling."
She dropped her hands from her mouth. "I cannot. You are much too ridiculous."
He straightened. "I am attempting to be a good husband, respectful of your needs—"
She slid off his lap and got back onto the bed, her eyes watching his expression the entire time. He could not look away. He could not even think of anything that would make him tear his eyes away from hers at that moment. Her lips tilted up with playfulness, something he found so erotic, making him powerless to resist her.
She held her hand towards him, and even though he told himself to stay seated, he stood. He walked towards her, knowing he was losing a battle, but unable to stay away. Still, he tried to keep his distance. He sat on the edge of the bed, near the spot where her toes were.
A quick frown passed over her face, or maybe he imagined it, because in the next instant she was smiling. "Hugh, I wonder if I might ask a question."
"Of course," he said without hesitation.
"What exactly are we supposed to do?"
He felt a moment's relief that his bride's elopements had not ended as many had assumed. His lips turned up in a smile, especially since Felicia did not duck her head or look away in embarrassment.
"I could not very well ask Great-Aunt Aurore, for she is likely as unaware as I am, having remained unmarried for half a century."
"You are at a disadvantage."
"I thought to ask Julian—"
Hugh wanted to reach for the wine goblet again. "Please tell me you jest."
"I do not! Unfortunately Tony came in at just that moment and I did not care to discuss the topic with both of them present."
He closed his eyes, muttering a silent thank you that her conversation had indeed been interrupted. In the next instant he realized what a godsend it was, this moment. She had no expectations for him to meet, so he could put her off a while longer, and she would be none the wiser.
Yet a devil assured him they could surely enjoy themselves a small amount this evening, their wedding night.
"Generally there is a great deal of kissing," he said, convinced he could withstand
that much temptation. "And caressing."
Felicia watched him carefully, as if trying to detect whether he was being truthful. She could not possibly know whether he had omitted anything, but just to be certain, he would distract her from further questions. He leaned towards her, putting one hand on either side of her on the bed.
She closed her eyes, waiting for his lips to touch. He marveled at her beauty, and the passion just under the surface, and the way she stirred him, even when she had no idea she did.
He pressed his lips to hers, and felt her sigh at the same time her arms curled around his neck. Her hands were tender and delicate, the way they smoothed over him. Her skin was so soft on his. He deepened the kiss, and she opened her mouth when he did, tangling her tongue with his. He wrapped his arms around her, nearly crushing her with his haste, but she did not complain. Instead she wriggled closer, pressing her breasts against his chest.
He sat back, his breath ragged, and moved away slightly. She tilted her head, studying him, and then recommenced the caressing of his neck. He sighed. Her touch was pure heaven, easing his fears and concerns at once.
"Come here," she said, her voice filled with comfort rather than seduction. He glanced up and saw the concern in her eyes.
"I am fine," he said, attempting to sit up straighter to prove his words true.
"I never said you were not. I still want you to come here."
He smiled. "I have a termagant for a wife."
"Indeed you do. What kind of wife do you expect a termagant husband to have?"
She wiggled her fingers, silently instructing him to move towards her. He moved next to her, waiting to see what she had in mind. To his surprise, she motioned him to lie down on his side, his back facing her. He did so, and in the next instant, her cool hands were caressing him, kneading his shoulders, massaging a mountain of tension from his muscles.
"You are filled with surprises," he mumbled.
"You would be wise to remember that," she said with a laugh. She leaned down and kissed the tip of his ear, and he felt goose bumps rise on his skin, but it was more likely from her breasts pressing against him. He moved back a fraction, just to feel that delectable sensation once more. He heard her catch her breath. Then she began stroking his hair, weaving it through her fingers, soothing his temples.
"Mmm," he said, though he meant to say something more meaningful, and coherent. But he was cocooned in bliss, feeling Felicia's hands all over his neck, driving out any thoughts other than peacefulness.
He closed his eyes.
***
"Hugh?"
Felicia halted her fingers, listening to her husband's breathing. It was even, and rhythmic, as though—
"You have fallen asleep!"
She leaned back against the headboard, dazed. She was certain this was not the typical outcome of a wedding night. She reached to shake his shoulder. She was even more tempted to pinch him awake.
At the last second she changed her mind.
She slid down from the bed and slowly headed towards her own bedchamber. When she heard Hugh turn over, she spun around, her heart beating with hopefulness. He was in a very deep slumber, however, and did not know she was departing.
She tiptoed back towards the bed and climbed in behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. He mumbled something and pulled her arm tighter around him, sighing with genuine contentment.
Felicia placed a kiss on his shoulder. It was a most unusual start to their marriage. She would just have to be patient, until Hugh realized he loved her. He thought her flighty and impetuous, and probably unreliable. She would just show him how wrong he was. She had the patience of a score of saints.
Or at least she planned to.
Chapter 14
Hugh yawned, and then stretched. He could not remember when he had last slept so well. He nuzzled the pillow, happier than he had been for the longest time, since before Felicia—
He reached behind him, to pull her close again as he had last night. His hand patted the mattress, reaching further with each tap but not touching anything resembling his wife.
His eyes shot open. He was alone in the bed.
Yet he distinctly remembered Felicia in all her nightrail-clad glory, giving him the most peaceful moments he had ever experienced in her presence. Had he imagined her arms around him while he slept?
Realization slammed into him. Dear Lord. He had fallen asleep. On his wedding night.
This was much worse than his reckless wastrel days. He had become much too dull if he could not remain awake while a seductive woman was in his bed.
Hugh tossed the bedcovers aside and strode to the connecting door. He knocked on it, smiling as he remembered the antics the previous evening to get the offending obstacle out of the way.
And then once it was, and he had been surrounded by the most heavenly creature ever born. . .
He had fallen asleep.
Hugh shook his head. He would erase that monumental embarrassment from his life before anyone could learn of it.
"Felicia?" He knocked once more. There was no answer, so he opened the door, slowly, so as not to startle her.
The startling fact was she was not abed. He frowned and took a turn about the room, fascinated that her scent remained in the air, and most likely on the pillows, though he was not about to determine that for certain.
His body was aching for her too much as it was. He did not need to torture himself further.
Perhaps she was in the breakfast parlor. He hurried through his morning dress routine, and then loped down the stairs, his heart bouncing in the same rhythm.
He could hardly wait to see Felicia. He prepared himself for a teasing setdown. In truth, he looked forward to it, just as he eagerly anticipated every one of their exchanges. He had never encountered a woman who stood toe-to-toe with him, knocking down his pretensions, and yet seeming to care for him so completely.
"Felicia! Confound it, where are you?"
He wheeled out of the empty breakfast parlor, the footmen scattering to get out of his way. "I am in a bit of a hurry," he said by way of explanation, and apology.
"If I may, my lord," one of the young men offered, continuing to look straight ahead.
"Yes?"
Before the footman could answer, Haselton was clearing his throat to announce his presence. "Her ladyship is in the blue drawing room, my lord. With Lady Winbourne."
"Lady Winbourne? Then where is—"
"Right here," his friend answered, with an impossibly wide grin on his face. "Come, tell me about all the adventures you have had since our last visit."
***
"So Lord Wastrel is leg-shackled at last." Simon chuckled as he made himself comfortable in the wing chair near the fireplace. "How have you found married life thus far?"
"Since the wedding only took place yesterday morning, it has proved quite enjoyable." Hugh thought of the wedding night and exhaled heavily. "Though there were some difficulties last night."
Simon's expression went from shocked to sympathetic in an instant. "It happens to every man at some point," he said. "Or so I have been told. I have never experienced it myself."
"Nor have I!"
Simon laughed. "I had begun to fear you were well and truly cursed."
Hugh cuffed him on the shoulder. "I have had to wait much too long to do that."
"I suppose you have earned it. And I am relieved you have not suffered with such issues." His grin widened. "Though with my bride, I almost wish it would occur, to permit me a moment to regain my strength."
Hugh rolled his eyes. "You have such a droll way of extolling your prowess."
Simon pretended he did not comprehend, hiding a yawn behind his hand. "I am merely sympathizing with your plight, while explaining my need for a short nap to restore my vigor. . ."
Hugh waved him off. "I can see you are getting your revenge against me, for my lack of sympathy during your romantic woes."
"Speaking of which, my apologies for missing
your wedding."
"I could say the same for yours. Only there was no time for you to extend a formal invitation, with you dashing off to Gretna the way you did."
"Georgiana insisted, and I was not about to give her a chance to change her mind."
"I believe that was the wisest choice," Hugh said with a laugh.
"And it appears you have done things out of order as well." Simon shifted in his chair. "Pour me some of your excellent brandy, since I will need at least a glass, and maybe two, before I fully recover from the shock of learning you are a father. I nearly fainted when I heard the child calling you Papa."
Hugh grinned as he poured them both a glass. "Fatherhood is the most entertaining and the most frightening venture I have ever embarked upon. It terrified me when Lucinda was first brought round. I was certain I would cause her to suffer some terrible calamity. Other than having me as her parent, of course."
"Surely she can outlive that disgrace," Simon said drily.
"It is a genuine concern! You know what my parents were like, chasing after scandal each day, as though it were the air they needed in order to breathe." He shuddered. "I do not want that sort of childhood for Lucinda. It was easy to reform my rakish behavior, for her sake. Although—"
Simon's glass halted on its way to his mouth. "Yes?"
"Now I wonder if I have gone too far the other direction. I scarce recognize myself some days."
"It sounds as though we should discuss this problem you mentioned earlier."
Hugh dropped his head into his hands. He did not want to see Simon's gleeful expression when he confessed. "I fell asleep. On my wedding night."
"That is not so dreadful."
Hugh lifted his head. "Yes, it is, because it was before—"
Simon choked on his brandy. Hugh would have slapped him on the back to aid his recovery except Simon was grinning like a madman. "Where was Felicia?"
Hugh couldn't halt another groan from escaping. "In bed. Beside me."
"That rivals me being late to my own wedding." Simon clucked his tongue. "Who would have guessed Lord Wastrel would leave a woman unsated. In his own marriage bed no less."
Hugh sat bolt upright. "I have never left a woman unsated. At least, not before last night."
Lord Wastrel (The Curse of True Love Book 2) Page 8
