Night Shadow

by Catherine Coulter

  Her fork trembled, just a bit, but Knight saw it, and his smile grew very pleased. A wife—an honest-to-God wife—who was a lady born and bred and who wanted to have sex with her husband. It was a heady thought, and he refused to allow any other into his mind. If she’d had just Tris or she’d slept with several men, it didn’t matter to him. He’d meant what he’d said to her. The past wasn’t important.

  They ate in silence. Knight’s eyes glittered as brightly as the branch of candles on the table.

  “Lily.”

  She looked up and grew very still at his expression.

  “This is our wedding night.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “You aren’t nervous, are you?”

  “Certainly. Are not you?”

  “No.”

  “A foolish question. You’re a man.”

  “I can’t argue with that assessment. But it is our wedding night and I want you to trust me. All right?”

  “This is so different from what I am used to. Being married means I’m no longer responsible just for myself and the children. I must now include you.”

  “Why not just make me responsible for all of you? You can take a rest and get used to being my wife.”

  “Don’t you have to get used to being my husband?”

  “All I’m saying is that you don’t have to be so alone anymore, Lily, you don’t have to be so independent. I’m here now.”

  “Yes, you are. I’m really not hungry, Knight.”

  “Eat. Ten more bites, that’s all. Now, do you remember that afternoon we were in the oak forest? The unforgettable afternoon Sam sprained his leg?”

  She didn’t want to say yes, give him more fodder for his masculine display of superiority, but she couldn’t help herself. Those few moments were crystal clear in her mind. She swallowed, remembering the wild feelings that had coursed through her. She nodded.

  “Do you remember what we were doing?”

  “Please, Knight. Eat your mashed potatoes.”

  “You were standing against an oak tree, remember? The one with the very thick, old bark? I was kissing you and you were crazy for more. I leaned down then and put my hand beneath your riding skirt.”

  He paused for a moment, watching her place her fork first in her right hand, then in her left. Then she put it down. She didn’t know what to do with her hands. She picked up a napkin.

  “I have long arms, thank the good Lord. Remember how I caressed the back of your knee, then very slowly moved upward, along your beautiful thigh? You were trembling, Lily, making those little female noises in your throat, and I kissed you again even as my fingers splayed upward, nearly touching you.”

  “Knight—”

  “When my fingers found you—oh, you wanted me, Lily. Do you remember how I stroked you, caressed you until you were crying into my mouth, wanting me so much you couldn’t help yourself?” Knight’s voice was becoming ragged; he was losing control just recounting that afternoon of the week before. Lily was sitting very still.

  “What are you thinking, Lily?”

  She ran her tongue over her bottom lip. Then she closed her eyes for a moment. “Your fingers. The feelings low in my stomach when you touched me. And your mouth and the feel of your body pressed against me.”

  He nearly leapt out of his chair. Oh, God, he’d thought to control things and look at him. He was hurting more than she was, he knew it. He was a man, after all, and men hurt more than women when it came to sex. He just hadn’t expected her to be so very honest.

  “Do you know what I’m going to do to you tonight?”

  She shook her head, cogent thought and even simple words hovering beyond her reach. He’d seduced her now as surely as he had that afternoon in the forest.

  “We haven’t an oak tree in the house. It’s too cold to take you back to the forest. But, Lily—no, I shan’t tell you. I’ll show you. You won’t be nervous, Lily, or afraid.”

  Knight scraped back his chair, his intent clear on his face. Then, to Lily’s bemused surprise, he seemed to shake himself mentally. He turned away from her and said over his shoulder, “Would you like to play the pianoforte for me?”

  She stared at his back. “Certainly,” she said. “That is what I should like to do more than anything in the world.” What she really wanted was for her husband to tell her that he cared for her. But it was just her body he wanted. He kept making that clear enough. Lily wasn’t a hypocrite. Even as she thought those things she admitted that she wanted him as well, immensely. But she cared for him, dammit. Cared for him more than any man she’d ever known.

  They left the breakfast room with nearly as much food present as before they’d come to dinner.

  Lily, something of a realist, knew that any music except for the simplest piece would be quite beyond her fingers tonight. What was he up to? Tonight, she thought, she would become a woman, and it was so wonderfully exciting that she wanted to throw herself in his arms right now, right in the middle of the drawing room.

  Instead, she played an Irish ballad that was, thankfully, very slow and blessed with only four different chords.

  Knight watched her, watched the candlelight shimmer around her head, making her thick blond hair glow with golden highlights. The wedding gown was beyond what even he’d envisioned. The soft lace around the neckline framed her white shoulders and hinted at the soft breasts beneath the silk. He shook his head. If he continued thinking along those lines, he would be well and truly lost. He’d asked her to play the pianoforte so he could distance himself a bit, but it wasn’t working.

  He had to maintain control. These odd and utterly disconcerting feelings he had for Lily had to be contained. He would not be ruled by his groin. But was that all it was?

  “That’s enough, Lily.”

  He got to his feet and picked up the branch of candles. Lily’s fingers fell on a minor chord and she looked at him, startled and, had he but known it, vastly relieved. He was playing some sort of game with her and she wanted it to end. She wanted him to make love to her. Once she knew what it was all about, she thought she’d have a prayer of regaining a bit of equilibrium. Not much, but a small portion at least.

  She rose slowly, smiling shyly at him. He held out his hand and she placed hers into his.

  “I had all your things moved into my bedchamber,” he said as they walked side by side up the stairs.

  “That was kind of you.”

  “Kind? I simply want you with me. Next week we’ll begin to replenish your wardrobe.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “My wedding gown is beautiful, Knight. And so is my ring. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful.”

  “Gratitude has nothing to do with anything, Lily. I don’t want it, in any case. I want you, nothing more.”

  “You have me.”

  “Not yet,” he said, and he sounded as if he were in pain.

  When they reached his large master suite at the end of the corridor, Knight opened the door, smiled down at his bride, and said, “Here, take the candles.”

  She did and walked into the bedchamber. He turned and pulled the heavy oak door closed. Then he faced her again, leaning against the door. “Please stand still for just a moment. I want to look at you.”

  Lily felt foolish and exposed, which she wasn’t, not at all. The candles shook in her hand and Knight retrieved them.

  He set them on the mantelpiece. “It’s quite warm in here,” he remarked, leaning down to add yet another log to the fire. “I told Thrombin I wanted it that way.”

  “There’s no screen in here, Knight, and I—”

  He held up his hand. “I’ll be your lady’s maid, Lily, but not yet. No, not yet.” He walked toward her, very slowly, his eyes on her face. “You are so beautiful,” he said, stopping in front of her. She closed her eyes as his fingers lightly stroked over her cheek, her jaw, her ears.

  “And you, my lord. Has no woman ever told you how beautiful you are?”

  “Not more than a dozen. I didn�
��t believe them.”

  “Will you believe me?”

  He looked at her for a long time. “We’ll see. In the morning. Now, I want to kiss you until my ears ring.”

  She lowered her head, embarrassed, but his long fingers closed under her chin and he raised her head. “Lily,” he said, and she felt his warm breath on her mouth. She placed her hands on his shoulders and moved against him. He looked at her mouth for a very long time, then kissed her lightly, small nipping kisses that made her smile and open her eyes.

  His fingertip stroked her mouth. “Part your lips.”

  She did and he deepened his kisses. She tasted him, the sweet taste of the champagne, the tart taste of the lemon pudding, the warm taste of him, Knight, a wonderful man, her husband. It was exquisite and no longer forbidden to her. She felt free for the first time in her life, free to be herself, free to show him what she felt for him. His tongue touched hers and Lily jumped in surprise. Then she accepted him.

  She was his now, completely in his power, and he could do as he wished with her. He cupped her in his hands and lifted her. He carried her across the room, near the fireplace. He pressed her back against the wall and came against her. He felt her soft breasts against his chest, felt her breasts heaving as he rubbed his straining sex against her. She gasped.

  “You like that, don’t you?”

  She couldn’t think of any words, and her response was to deepen her kiss and dig her fingernails into his upper arms.

  Lily felt the wall against her back, felt him pushing himself against her, and she was straining toward him, unable to help herself. Then she remembered his words about the oak tree and what he’d done to her that day. She was embarrassed, excited, nearly incoherent with anticipation.

  Then he was gone from her and her eyes flew open in consternation. “Knight?”

  “A moment, Lily.”

  He was on his knees in front of her, lifting her wedding gown. “It’s more delicate than your riding habit, you know, and thus requires more care. I don’t wish to rip it.”

  She felt the cool air on her legs. Then he was standing in front of her again, his head coming down so he could kiss her, and she felt his hand on her thigh. She gasped, wrapped her arms around his back, and strained toward him.

  His hand moved upward, very slowly, and he kissed her again. Then he said into her mouth, “Do you like that, Lily? Nearly there, my dear, I’m nearly touching you. Oh, God, do you have any idea what you feel like to me?”

  His fingertip lightly brushed through the curls to find her. She cried out and shuddered helplessly against him.

  “No interruptions this time. Not a one.”

  His kiss was deep now, his tongue stroking hers just as his fingers were rhythmically caressing her, making her wild, making her cry out beyond herself, making her press against his fingers to know more—

  He slipped his middle finger inside her and Lily fell forward, her head on his shoulder. “Knight, I can’t—”

  Deeper into her. “Can’t what? You’re so warm, Lily, so tight, and—”

  He was nearly out of control; he withdrew from her. He wanted to bring her to a climax before he took her.

  His fingers slid upward until they found her again. He smiled and nudged at her face until she raised her head for his kisses. “You like that, don’t you, Lily? I know you do. You’re so soft and I—” His tongue eased into her mouth.

  She couldn’t have spoken if the house had been on fire.

  She moaned, flinging her head back, offering him her throat and her breasts. His fingers delved and teased. He felt the tension building in her, felt her legs stiffen, and knew that in just another moment she would reach her climax, and when she did he would be watching her face. He wanted to hold back, build the tension in her even higher, but he knew he couldn’t wait.

  He pushed her then, his fingers burning deep, driving her to a frenzy. Her back arched and she closed her eyes, crying out.

  “Open your eyes.”

  She did and he saw the wonder in them as her body exploded, then the vague surprise and the hopeless wash of feelings that swamped her, feelings that she could never hide from him.

  He continued caressing her, his motions now soothing, more gentle, as she slowly quieted. Then, without warning, he released himself from his trousers, lifted her, and said sharply, “Put your legs around my waist.”

  Lily did as he said, not understanding, not caring in any case. His hands were shoving away her wedding gown, baring her legs and hips. “Knight,” she whispered, then froze as his fingers parted her. She sucked in her breath at the feel of him. His sex was against her, pushing hard, and she was trying to draw back, unable to help herself. Suddenly, without warning, his hands lifted her and he thrust up into her. She stiffened, then screamed with the pain.

  Knight was aware of her smallness, how tight she was, but she’d wanted him and she was slick and hot and he was inside her and he wanted to howl with the feelings that were making him wild. He heard her cry out.

  No, it was a scream, and she was fighting him. He didn’t understand. He shoved her more closely against the wall to hold her still.

  His hands were firm about her waist now and he lifted her, then drew her down on him. God, she was so tight, and there was something wrong, something—He tore through her maidenhead. He could feel her womb.

  She was hitting him with her fists, crying, her body shuddering with pain, her long legs tightening about his flanks.

  She was a virgin and he’d just taken her as he would an experienced woman. Knight couldn’t comprehend the consequences. He was inside her, deep inside her, and he could feel her pain, feel her muscles clenching about him, and for an instant he got hold of himself. “Lily, I’m sorry. Hold still, no, don’t move.”

  But she was trying to get free of him, and her struggles sent him over the edge.

  He was insensate for many moments, his breath coming harsh and ragged as he pressed his face beside hers against the wall. It was the sound of her hoarse sobs that brought him back to his senses.

  She had been a virgin.

  He felt her legs sliding from his flanks. Gently, he eased out of her, wincing at her moan of pain. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to his bed. Her beautiful wedding gown was a tangled mass of silk. He smoothed it about her after he laid her on her back. Her eyes were closed and he could see the trails of tears down her cheeks. She looked like a damned virgin sacrifice.

  “Lily,” he said, sitting beside her. “Come, open your eyes.”

  “No,” she said, very clearly. “I don’t want to.”

  “I don’t blame you. I—” He’d started to say he didn’t know, hadn’t believed she was a virgin, but he wasn’t stupid. “I’m sorry, it’s just that you made me wild and I wanted you so very much, Lily.”

  She opened her eyes and looked at him. “That hurt horribly. I thought it would be nice.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said again. “But it won’t ever hurt again, I swear it to you. Next time we’ll be so close, Lily, and you’ll want me inside you.”

  She wasn’t so certain about that, even though he appeared to be. “Is that what you would have done to me in the forest that day if John hadn’t come?”

  “No. I wanted to, but I decided I wanted only to give you a woman’s pleasure. Your pleasure is beautiful, Lily.”

  She studied his face. “Could you please leave me now, Knight?”

  “No. Let me help you, Lily. Don’t argue with me—you know you can’t get all those tiny little buttons by yourself.”

  He helped her up and began unfastening the length of buttons down her back. He was efficient and quick. He paused only when she was standing in her chemise. Lily looked down and saw the blood spots on the soft white lawn, and gasped. She looked up at him, horrified. He gave her a pained smile.

  “No, no, it’s all right. Come and lie down and I’ll bathe you.”

  “But, Knight, I’m bleeding.”

  “Just a bit. It’
s from my tearing through your maidenhead. Now hold still.”

  She said nothing. In truth, she couldn’t think of a thing to say, even when he pulled her chemise up to her waist and bathed her with the soft wet cloth. She knew he was looking at her, but still she didn’t move. He pressed the cloth against her and the soreness receded a bit.

  Knight stared down at her, watching his hands push her legs apart. He’d bathed off the blood and his seed. And now he just wanted to look at her, touch her, and the wet cloth gave him an excuse. God, she was beautiful, those long white legs of hers sleekly muscled and so wonderfully soft, and he saw her again, her long white legs wrapped around him, and he wanted her. Again. Lightly he touched her and she flinched. “Do you still hurt?”

  He looked up, and for a moment she just looked at him.

  He laid his warm palm over her. “The next time, Lily, you will be smiling at me, and ordering me not to leave you.”

  “It’s hard to believe that.”

  His smile never wavered. He couldn’t blame her. He’d been a complete clod. “Here, let’s get that chemise off you.”

  “No,” she said, and to his surprise, she folded her arms protectively over her breasts. Her thighs were spread wide and she was covering her breasts. He grinned. “You’re wonderful, my lady,” he said, grasping the bottom of the chemise and ripping it off her. “Move your arms.”

  When she was naked, sprawled on her back, he still held himself back. He lightly laid his palm on her flat belly. Then he leaned down and kissed her breast.

  Rampant, wild pleasure. She arched her back without conscious decision.

  “Would you like more, Lily? I won’t come inside you again, you’re too sore, but I can pleasure you.”

  She wanted to tell him that he was still clothed and she wanted to see him, touch him, but she felt his warm breath on her flesh as he moved down her body.

  He was kissing her belly, his fingers finding her, then pushing her legs apart. He came between her legs, lifted her, and his mouth was on her, hot and deep, and she was crying with the wonder of it, the strength and power of it, and she screamed as she shuddered and tensed.

  She was gone from him, yet oddly a part of him, something deep inside her swirling about him, binding her to him, and she forgot then everything but the magic of his mouth and her response to him, and it went on and on.