For the first time that day Duke looked uncertain. She turned a slow circle, drinking in the garden setting, the deep green parlor furniture, the plush rug of browns, golds, and greens. Tiny green-stemmed wildflowers of aster, bee balm, forget-me-nots, and pink pasture roses patterned the cream-colored walls. She crossed the carpet and touched a bouquet, feeling the dried paint beneath her fingers. Tansy had given her this gift by painting these delicate flowers for her.
“It’s beautiful,” she said. Sateen drapes of tan and buff with brown tassel tie-backs covered three large windows that were partially open to let in the evening light and fresh air. The room was gorgeous. “I can’t believe this is our home.” She looped her arms around Duke’s warm neck. “I’m going to love being your wife.”
Relief filled his eyes as he lowered his head to kiss her. They shared their first passionate kiss as husband and wife in their parlor.
He held her against him, his arm banding her back as they swayed together, moving to the slow, seductive rhythm of his delving, stroking tongue. Heat burned through her, and she basked in the sound of his low groan. They would consummate their vows in this house tonight.
“I never got my bag,” she whispered against his mouth.
“Tansy put it in our bedchamber.”
“So my aunts knew about this too.”
“We were all plotting against you, darling.”
She sighed and rubbed her palm over his chest. “Thank you for the best day of my life.”
“I want it to be the best night of your life, too.”
By the look in his eyes, they would be sharing their new bed soon. She knew what was required of her, and was more than willing to lie with her husband. But what if he sensed her inexperience and asked questions she couldn’t answer?
“Can I see the house before we…before I change?”
“That’s what I’d planned to do before you distracted me.” He grinned and took her hand. “Kitchen first.” A bottle of red wine sat on the counter with two glasses that he promptly filled. “Do you think we can navigate while carrying these?”
She accepted the glass with a smile. “If I can cross a rutted field in the dark without spilling a drop of wine, I think I can manage a hardwood floor and a few doorways.”
He tapped his glass to hers. “Welcome to your new home, Mrs. Grayson.”
“Our home.” She lifted her glass to toast him. “I wish I had something to give you in return.”
He linked his fingers with hers. “You’re all I want.”
“I hope that never changes,” she whispered, paralyzed with fear to think, to know that this sweet bliss could shatter at any moment.
He lit a lantern then led her through the dining room, a small music room, and a large water closet downstairs. Upstairs, they passed four partially furnished bedrooms, two of which Cora and Adam would use, and at the back of the house a small nursery connected to a master bedchamber as big as their parlor.
Faith trailed her fingers across a tall chiffonier and matching dresser in a lustrous cherrywood that brought a rich warmth to the room. Awed by luxury she never thought to enjoy, she admired the dressing table with a beveled oval mirror—and was shocked by the reflection of a bride in her finest dress standing beside her husband. A huge canopy bed loomed behind them, with a bouquet of herbs and wildflowers lying on the white linen pillowcase.
Their eyes met in the mirror, his dark and too compelling. Faith’s breath locked in her chest, and she waited for him, for whatever he might expect of his wife.
“Somebody left a salad on our bed,” he said, nodding toward the herbs.
Her breath shuddered out and she brought her glass to her mouth and finished the last drops of her wine. She set the empty glass on the bed stand then picked up the bouquet. “It’s a tussie-mussie,” she said. The stems were tucked into a white lace doily and tied bouquet fashion with a pink ribbon. “It’s from my aunts. Tansy must have left it when she brought my bag.”
Duke leaned his shoulder against the carved cherry bedpost, and finished his wine. “What exactly is a tussie-mussie?”
“It can be a gift. Or a curse. It depends on what herbs you put in it.” She skirted the bed to show him the herbs. “Basil is for love and good wishes, peppermint-scented geranium for happiness, and lavender for devotion.” She brushed her finger over a daisy-like white flower with a deep yellow center. “Chamomile is for wisdom and fortitude.” Which she would surely need to get through her wedding night. “This blue, star-shaped flower is borage for bravery.” A virtue she could use more of right now. “And this wild rose is for love.”
“You forgot that one,” he said, pointing to a green stalk with tiny leaves and miniature pink flowers.
“Thyme. For daring.”
He chuckled. “Thyme for daring. That must be from Iris.”
Her face flushed. Only Iris would have thought to add the thyme, knowing Faith would find the tussie-mussie on her marriage bed. Today, on her wedding day when she needed it most, her aunts had brought love and encouragement and a bouquet of heartfelt wishes.
“Now you know why I love those women,” she said, sniffing the green, reviving herbs to hide her discomfort.
“I’m glad you have them.” Duke was watching her play with the herbs, but she sensed his thoughts were elsewhere.
With a sigh, she laid the tussie-mussie on the dressing table, looked at her handsome, patient husband, and swallowed hard. It all hinged on this, her wedding night, and making him believe she was an experienced woman. One rushed intimate involvement was hardly enough knowledge to get her through the consummation, but she wasn’t a virgin, and for that she could finally be thankful.
Duke lowered his wine glass. “Why don’t you change now?”
The heat in his eyes seared her. “I’ll need your help with my corset.” She could manage her dress, but not the white lacy corset Iris had given her. The corset, chemise, and drawers were an expensive gift from one of Iris’s former johns, but Iris, who disdained corsets and pristine white underclothes, had never worn them.
Faith’s fingers trembled and she fumbled with the buttons on the bodice of her dress. She heard the rough slide of her husband’s gabardine suit as he crossed the room, felt his hard body beside her even though he didn’t touch her. He set his empty wineglass on dressing table then gently lifted her chin.
“I’m not going to rush you. There’s no hurry”
He was so beautiful, so tender, giving her his trust, his faith, his passion—a perfect wedding night—while she was holding back, keeping secrets.
He brought his mouth to hers in a tender, wine-flavored kiss that sent a rush of heat through her. She braced her hands on the dressing table to steady herself. He kept the kiss light and nibbled her lips, slipping her buttons free from the bottom up. When he freed the last button at her throat, he pushed the fabric over her shoulders and exposed her lacy undergarments that suddenly felt too seductive and revealing.
Passion flared in his eyes and he dipped his dark gaze to her breasts, returning slowly to her mouth and at last to her eyes. “Let’s get this off you.”
Chapter Twenty-six
*
OBEYING DUKE’S GENTLE command, Faith turned her back to him. He slid the bodice of her dress off her shoulders and down her arms, tugged the sleeves over her hands then draped the soft fabric across the dressing table. Then his warm lips touched the nape of her neck, and flutter-birds circled her stomach like dandelion puffs caught on a hard swirl of wind.
“Don’t move,” he whispered, his breath soft and warm against her bare skin.
She felt a gentle tug in her hair, as he removed the spray of wildflowers she’d worn. When he laid the tiny cluster of white and orange trillium and yellow snapdragons down, his eyes met hers in the mirror. Pin by pin, he freed her upswept locks, dropping the pins onto the table until she felt her mass of hair tumble down her back.
“Do you have a brush in your bag?”
She nodded.
He stepped away to retrieve her bag from beside the chamber door. When he set it down, she reached inside the small, worn valise and found the brush Adam had stolen.
“Sit,” he said, taking the brush from her. “I’d like to do this.”
She sat with her back to him, watching his reflection in the mirror. He pulled the brush through her curls, over and again, placing the bristles at the peak of her forehead and lightly dragging them back across her skull and down the length of her hair, which ended above her waist.
A sigh of pleasure slipped from her mouth and she closed her eyes.
“You like this?”
“Mmm…yes. My mother used to brush my hair for me.” And she’d craved those precious minutes of affection. “Mama owned a beautiful brush with stiff bristles and a porcelain back painted with roses. It was a gift to her, and my mother treasured it.” A sharp sense of loss filled Faith. She opened her eyes, needing to see Duke, needing to know she wasn’t alone anymore. “I wanted to keep the brush forever, but I left it behind when we moved.”
“Have you sent a letter to your old address?” he asked, drawing the bristles across her scalp in a soothing motion. “You could ask the new residents to look for the brush and forward it to you.”
She shook her head, disrupting his brush stroke. “No…I…the landlord probably tossed it out or gave it away.” She lowered her lashes, realizing she’d been foolish to mention her mother and open a conversation about her past, especially on her wedding night.
“I’m sorry you lost something so treasured. Now I understand why Adam wanted to give you a brush.”
She nodded, but dared not say another word about the brush or her mother lest she slip and mention the brothel she still owned. “Would you unlace my corset?”
He laid the brush on the dressing table then untied the drawing ribbon on her corset and unlaced it for her.
As she pulled the stifling garment off her body and laid it on the bench beside her, Duke’s strong, warm hands slipped over her shoulders. Their eyes met in the mirror, but he gently tilted her head back until she was looking up at him.
He leaned down to kiss her.
Their mouths met upside down in an awkward but sensual kiss. He slowly moved his hands down over her collar bone, and slipped them beneath her chemise, easing his fingers over her breasts. She gasped against his mouth.
His tongue and teeth made small swipes and nibbles across her lips, making her crave a deeper kiss. She arched her back to lift her aching breasts into his warm palms. He captured her hard nipples between his thumb and finger, shaping and tugging them to aching peaks.
“I’ve wanted to do this from the minute I first saw you.”
But he hadn’t done it. He’d been a gentleman, even during their most passionate kisses.
His warm lips caressed her neck, her shoulder, and then he was kneeling on the floor behind her, turning her to face him. Her nose brushed his thick, shiny hair as he freed the buttons at the waist of her skirt, and she pressed her face into the silky soft strands to inhale the scent of him, soap and cologne and man.
He pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply as he brought them both to their feet. His hands roamed her back, dipped inside her skirt to caress her bottom through layers of fabric then moved back to her breasts. A moan of pleasure escaped her, and she slipped her fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss. His low, shuddering groan excited her, and a wild desperation edged their kiss.
Suddenly, he broke away. “I need to get out of this suit.”
“I’ll help you,” she whispered, wanting to please him, to be his wonderful willing wife, feeling as desperate and inflamed as he looked. She pushed the suit coat over his wide shoulders and down his muscled arms. He tugged his hands out of the sleeves, but his wince reminded her of his tender shoulder. She unbuttoned his shirt while he removed his tie. Then he wrested the gold links off his cuffs and shrugged out of his shirt, exposing his broad, bare chest.
When he stepped back to remove his trousers, her skirt that he’d unbuttoned fell to her ankles in a cloud of puffy silk, leaving her standing in her white chemise, drawers, and petticoats. His hands stilled at the waist of his trousers, a look of wonder and amazement filling his eyes. “You are so beautiful…”
His sincerity touched her. Maybe her experience with lovemaking was limited, but her knowledge of the human body was vast. If she watched and listened, her husband would show her how to please him.
An unexpected sense of daring filled her, and she untied the waist ribbon on her petticoat. Slowly, she pushed it down her legs to lie in the heap of silk at her ankles.
His dark gaze melted down her body like warm wax, molding her breasts, skimming her waist, caressing her hips, lingering on her lacy drawers and stocking-clad legs. That pleased him. She smiled and opened her arms to her husband.
He embraced her and lifted her out of the mound of fabric. Breast to chest, she felt his heart hammering, and her own answering. Somehow, someway, she would make this strong, handsome, trembling man in her arms want her as his friend and lover for life.
*
DUKE PRESSED HIS face to his wife’s temple, physically shaken by his desire for her. “I’ve wanted you in my arms like this since the first time I saw you. I want to give you romance and fireworks.” He brushed a thick wave of hair away from her forehead, needing to see her eyes. “I hope you don’t view our marriage bed as a duty.”
She sighed and caressed his cheek with her warm fingertips. “What we share privately is our gift to each other. I’m nervous, though, that I’ll disappoint you.”
“You could never disappoint me.”
“Remember that the first time I irritate you.”
He smiled, relieved by her playful words. “I promise.”
“Show me those fireworks.” She nipped his chin with her pretty white teeth. “Make me your wife.”
A surge of lust tightened his groin, and he pulled her against him, kissing her urgently, deeply, hard. Because he couldn’t hold back. He couldn’t wait any longer. Her peaked breasts pressed through her chemise and flattened against his chest, making him wild for her. He rocked his hips against hers, demanding, insisting he satisfy the instinctive urges of his body.
Gasping, he broke away to pull her chemise over her head. The garment lifted her long, gorgeous hair up for a brief second then let it fall like a silky cape around her shoulders. Her skin was lightly bronzed, and her breasts round and full. He let the chemise fall at her feet. He circled her waist with his palms, sliding them up to cup her breasts. Drunk by her beauty, he leaned down and swirled his tongue around the tan aureole of her breast then sucked her peaked nipple into his hot, hungry mouth.
She clutched his shoulders and arched against his lips, her breathy moan sending a jolt of heat straight to his groin.
He hissed with pain and broke away, needing to shuck his trousers before they crippled him. He toed off his shoes, wrangled out of his painfully tight trousers then shoved his drawers down, freeing his turgid shaft.
He looked at Faith as he tugged off his socks. She was staring at him, at his lusting body, with parted lips and uncertainty in her eyes. If she asked him to slow down now, he may as well get his revolver and shoot himself. Because he couldn’t stop. And if he dallied much longer, he was going to embarrass himself and disappoint her, something he hadn’t done since his introduction to the act of lovemaking.
“You’re magnificent,” she whispered, her gaze filled with desire.
That was all the invitation he needed. He yanked off his last sock and went to her. With shaking hands, he untied her drawers, taking deep breaths that did nothing to calm him. His body wanted and needed release. But he needed more. He needed to make their lovemaking special for her, for both of them and the vows they’d exchanged.
As Faith slid her lacy drawers off her slender hips and down her long legs, he knew he was a goner. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed, not daring to kiss her. Bu
t when he sat her on the bed, she looped her arms around his neck and gave him a sweet smile.
“It might be more civilized if you take off my shoes first.”
He winced. “You’ve got me so wound up I can’t think straight.”
She laughed, a light, happy sound he hoped to hear every night for the rest of his life.
She sat nude on the bed, her hair streaming over one breast and down her back, looking up at him, smiling with that lush, kissable mouth, her whiskey-colored eyes promising him forever—and his heart knew love.
Radford had been wrong. This wasn’t just lust. This was the beginning of the rest of his life. Finally, after sharing a mill with his brothers and a home with his mother and a job with a whole county, he had something to call his own. He had someone to take in his arms and love.
He removed Faith’s shoes and fancy stockings then lowered the lantern wick, the golden light revealing every curve of her breasts and waist and hips. His breath jammed in his chest.
She turned back the covers to welcome him into bed, and his groin tightened yet again. It was all he could do not to lay her back and push between her long, slender thighs. His urges pounded through him, making his body shudder as he joined his bride in their marriage bed. He took her in his arms and kissed her, vowing to make this perfect.
For all his fear of losing control, Duke found himself taking his time exploring his wife’s body. She was slender-boned and soft. Everywhere. And hot. She was ready for him, arching her hips up to his hand, gasping in his ear, but he wanted more—for her.
She moaned into his mouth, raising his temperature, but he held back, moving his hand to her breasts to give her body time to level off before he took her higher.
But she was writhing, her hands clutching him, her boldness surprising and pleasing. She suckled his neck and splayed her soft hands across his back, rubbing them down his body in a sweeping massage. Then she brought her hand forward to his stomach, and lower, her warm fingers circling him.
Heat surged into his groin and he groaned, wanting to grip her hand around him and rock his hips. He deepened his kiss and moved his hand to her hot center, stoking her fire, making her whimper until she broke their kiss.
Good Guy Heroes Boxed Set Page 50
