He ran his tongue down the column of her neck, pausing to dip in the hollow at the base of her throat. She shuddered beneath him as he continued to worship her by slicking his mouth across her collar bone, her shoulders, and then down between her breasts. He felt her roll beneath him as his long hair brushed erotically across her skin. Supporting his weight with one hand, Rian stroked her with the other. Gently swiping the underside of each perfect breast, he moved down her belly to the curve of her hip, his hand seeking the sensuous roundness of her buttocks. Little mewling sounds escaped Catherine as her body tingled, and the heat coming from deep inside her flamed ever higher.
Lowering his head, Rian gently suckled one breast, stroking the taut nipple with his tongue before rolling it gently between his teeth. Floundering in a sea of indescribable pleasure, Catherine tried to raise herself off the bed, but Rian was having none of it, and he gently pushed her back on the pillows.
“You want to know if you can be a ‘proper’ wife to me?” he whispered, moving his mouth and gently worrying her earlobe. With his weight momentarily immobilizing her, he watched as Catherine moved her throat, swallowing with some difficulty, before she nodded, eyes shining and lips parted. “Then I think,” Rian continued, “it only fair to show you what type of husband you can expect to receive in the bargain.”
Moving so he no longer pinned her body with his, Rian carefully watched her face, looking for the first flicker of fear or apprehension that would halt his continued exploration of her body. His long tapering fingers traced a path between her breasts, pausing before fanning across her stomach and teasing their way through the nest of thick curls. Stroking her inner thigh, Rian patiently waited for Catherine to part her legs, and gently slipped inside her. His finger was immediately coated with her slickness, and he began moving it in and out, increasing the tempo as she writhed next to him. Soft mewling sounds turned into moans, and little rushes of breath became uneven panting. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over her clitoris, feeling the small bud tighten, and was almost pushed back when Catherine unexpectedly surged beneath him. One hand gripped his arm, and the heightened flush of her face told him a storm was gathering inside her.
“Oh, dear God, please!” Her eyes glazed as she ground herself against his hand, an instinctive response to the need pulsing through her. Her breath, uneven before, now became a symphony of harsh, ragged gasps. Her nails dug into his flesh, but Rian merely smiled as he continued to bring her closer to her climax.
Catherine arched her back and raised her hips, her heels fighting for traction amongst the rumpled bedding. Letting go of Rian’s arm, she clutched the sheets, twisting them hard enough to make her knuckles turn white. She was lust and desire in its purest form, and with her body she begged him to release her from such exquisite torment.
With one smooth movement Rian rolled on top of her, his thigh pushing her legs open. She opened eagerly, the intoxicating scent of her sex claiming him with its heady fragrance. His unexpected weight made Catherine groan, so he raised himself up on his forearms before leaning down to kiss her. She caught his lower lip between her teeth, sucking hard enough to turn Rian’s grin wolfish. He pushed with his hips, watching her pupils dilate at the feel of his cock throbbing against her, awaiting—no needing—her invitation. She gave it with an upward thrust of her hips.
“Lift your legs and put them around me, as high as you can,” he instructed, feeling the muscles in her thighs tighten as they locked him in place. It was as if she had been made specifically to fit his body, and Rian paused for a moment, caught up in the exhilarating rush of their coupling. Never before had it felt so right. Beneath him, Catherine looked up, her eyes impossibly huge. “Patience, sweetheart, patience,” he murmured.
Amazed that he could summon enough discipline to maintain his self-control, Rian was immediately encased by wet heat as he penetrated her. His patience was further tested as he forced himself to wait, giving Catherine time to adjust to the feel of him within her. To accommodate herself to the steady pulsing throb of him. Her gasp was its own exquisite torture, but Rian knew, no matter how willingly permitted, his presence within her was a violation. He felt the muscles in her thighs twitch and jump at the unnatural strain of holding his body between them, and in her eyes he saw the first stirring of panic. His expression became an apology as, with one smooth stroke; he surged forward, rupturing the barrier of silken flesh that was her gift to him.
Rian covered her mouth with his, feeling a sting as sharp teeth sank into his lip in response to the sudden pain spiking through her. He continued to kiss her, his tongue stroking hers, allowing her to ride the crest of exquisite agony until it was swept aside by another sensation entirely. Catherine’s body bloomed, opening up to him, and suddenly the ache that came from deep within her no longer felt strange or unknown.
They had both waited too long for this moment, too long to have each other, and Rian, encouraged by her movement beneath him, quickened his pace. Though increasing in intensity, he made certain his movements were still controlled. This was all about Catherine awakening the demands of her own body, and learning there was nothing to fear. The feel of her nails raking across his back, and the firm pressure of her thighs locked against his hips almost broke his restraint, encouraging him to seek his own release. He was grateful she did not yet recognize how close he was to losing himself inside her.
Perspiration matted Catherine’s hair at her brow and temples, dotting her upper lip and making the hollow at the base of her throat glisten. Rian watched as a trickle shimmied a path between her breasts. Her eyes glittered and her face flushed. Kiss-bruised and swollen lips parted enough for him to feel the warmth of her breath against his skin. He made a low growling sound in the back of his throat as she rolled his nipple between her thumb and forefinger, increasing the pressure to pinch the hard nub. He felt his self-control slipping, and when he was certain he could not hold back another moment, Catherine shrieked and became rigid beneath him. He felt her tense as muscles clenched and sinews stretched and every nerve, every fiber of her being, exploded at the same time. Riding the swell of her climax Rian found his own release, gasping and shuddering as he joined her in the fiery heat that threatened to consume them both.
Not wishing to cause further discomfort, Rian pulled out and rolled off her. His mouth twitched when he heard Catherine’s sigh of relief at having her body returned to her, and he watched as she moved her limbs with a lazy, languid motion. Her expression told him she was blissfully content, from her toes to the ends of her hair. Still caught in the ebb and flow of her fading orgasm, she did not notice when he slipped from her side. Indeed, it wasn’t until the soreness between her legs was eased by cool water that she opened her eyes to look at him. Rian gently wiped away the remnants of her virgin’s blood with a soft cloth, holding the cool square of linen against her tender skin and lessening her discomfort. He leaned over and lazily kissed her breast, scraping the nipple lightly with his teeth, and making her jump as an erotic echo of her orgasm peaked again.
“Don’t…” she admonished weakly. “Let me catch my breath.”
He chuckled softly as he returned the basin of water to the washstand and returned to the bed, taking her in his arms. “Take as long as you need, my love.”
Turning her head, Catherine looked at him with an expression that was curiously serious. “It wasn’t like that…what happened to me…I don’t remember ever feeling like that before.”
“I know.” Rian kissed her tenderly on the mouth. “A woman’s virginity is a gift that can only be given once, and you graced me with the honor of taking it.”
“I’m glad. I wanted it to be you.”
He smiled at her, feeling ridiculously happy. “Hush now, you need to sleep.” Drawing the blanket around them, Catherine rolled onto her side and Rian pulled her toward him until her back was pressed against his chest, her buttocks nestling in his groin. She smiled as she felt him stiff
en at the contact.
“Rian?”
“Mmm…”
“Will you—can we—” She sounded hesitant, unsure of how to phrase her request, and certain of the lack of decorum in asking.
“Yes, but not just yet,” Rian murmured, understanding her completely.
“Oh, you don’t want to?”
He sighed and moved a stray curl that was tickling his face. “I think you know that’s not the reason,” he chuckled. “You need to rest. When you waken—”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
It was an assurance he had no difficulty keeping.
* * * *
Dawn was chasing the night from the sky when Rian swept the hair from Catherine’s face and held her close. His lips found her ear and he whispered quietly in the darkness. She replied without hesitation, her voice warm and loving. “Yes,” she told him.
Chapter 7
The sound of voices raised in anger could easily be heard even before Rian pushed the door open and entered the kitchen. Almost every servant at Oakhaven was seated around the large table in the center of the room. Only the stable hands were missing, but he knew that their exclusion was due to the nature of their charges. They rarely ate breakfast with the rest of the staff, but the reason for such an extraordinary gathering would be shared with them all at the midday meal.
And speaking of breakfast, Rian couldn’t help but notice it appeared to have been largely forgotten. The swell of voices rose and fell in obvious displeasure. Ordinarily he would have been touched by the loyalty of the staff, except it wasn’t a Connor that they were pledging their allegiance to. It was the first time in his life he had ever been the recipient of such censure, and he decided he didn’t much care for it.
The angry chatter might have continued unchecked if not for a scullery maid who noticed him leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest, listening to the growing brouhaha. She squealed and dropped the mug of tea she held in her hands. The sound of the heavy earthenware mug shattering on the stone floor brought all conversation to an abrupt stop as every head turned toward him.
“Be careful not to cut yourself,” Rian told the girl as he helped to pick up the broken pieces of her mug.
Looking at the faces of his staff, he noticed more than a few were now flushed bright red, but hardly anyone averted their eyes. Even if he had not overheard their conversation, he would have been a fool not to realize the entire household was aware that Catherine had not spent the night in her own bed. And they were not pleased by it. The general consensus seemed to be that he had taken advantage of her. He was, after all, older and more experienced in the ways of the world. Rian felt a muscle in his jaw tighten and it took effort to remain calm and say nothing. Scanning his audience, he noticed Mrs. Hatch was curiously absent, but while the housekeeper could claim the entire house as her domain, the kitchen belonged to another. Cook came toward him, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Did you need something, Sir?” she asked.
Rian took a good look at the large, florid woman as she continued to dry her hands. He found himself inexplicably drawn to the motion, fascinated by the hide-and-seek game her fingers played with the cloth tied around her waist. He found it hard to believe the same woman who could tenderize a slab of meat by pounding it with her fists, could also produce the lightest of pastries. He swallowed and looked her in the eye, the arch of her brow the only indication of his fall from favor. It did not escape his notice that she had called him sir and not Master Rian. He gave her his best smile. It was not returned.
“Actually, I was looking for Mrs. Hatch,” he said.
“She is in the back parlor. She has a visitor.”
“Who is calling on Mrs. Hatch at such an early hour?” He was intrigued both by the visitor’s timing, and his housekeeper’s need to receive such a person in the back parlor.
“It’s Reverend Hastings,” Tilly blurted out, earning more than one scolding look.
“Really? Well, well, well, how very fortuitous.”
Ignoring the glares being thrown her way, Tilly got to her feet. “Would you like me to take her a message, Master Rian?” she asked.
“Yes—no wait. I think it’s best if I speak to her myself, Tilly, but I do need you to do something for me.” She waited for him to speak, clearly uncomfortable at the idea of such an unrepentant sinner being in the same room as a pious man of the cloth. Deciding he might as well confirm their gossipy chatter, Rian grinned wickedly. “I think Miss Catherine would very much like a hot bath this morning, and would you also see that a breakfast tray is taken up to her.”
“Yes, Master Rian, I’ll see to it immediately,” Tilly rushed, bobbing him a quick curtsey.
He turned to go, and then turned back. “Where did you say Mrs. Hatch and the Reverend were?”
“In the back parlor.”
“Ah yes, and Tilly?” He waited until every person seated at the table was looking at him.
“Yes…?”
“Take Miss Catherine’s tray to my bedroom.”
The door had almost closed behind him when he heard another mug hit the floor and shatter.
* * * *
It had been a momentous day.
Catherine had been touched when Rian had told her how furious the entire household staff was because he had taken her to his bed. Particularly the stable hands. It appeared that someone had decided waiting until midday would be too long, so they had taken it upon themselves to bring the grooms up to speed.
“I’m convinced they all wanted to give me a good thrashing!” Rian recalled.
“But I seduced you,” Catherine protested, concerned and upset by the misunderstanding.
“Well, I wasn’t about to tell them that,” Rian said smugly, “and even if I had, I doubt it would have made the slightest difference. They’re all very fond of you, Catherine, and at least one or two love you almost as much as I do.” He dropped a light kiss playfully on the tip of her nose.
Reverend Hastings had arrived that morning to discuss the forthcoming marriage between one of the stable boys and one of the housemaids. Rian took it as an omen, a most auspicious one at that, and had insisted the rector meet with him and Catherine as well. Seeing for himself that Catherine was not being coerced in any way, Reverend Hastings was more than happy to sell Rian a common license, thus allowing them to dispense with the reading of the banns. It also meant they could be married that afternoon. The ceremony took place in the family chapel with almost every member of the formerly disgruntled staff standing as witness. Catherine looked radiant in a pale green gown with a matching bonnet, and Rian was forgiven. Though it took a couple of casks of ale to placate the stable boys.
Now she sat at the dressing table drying her long hair with a towel, and the scent of roses perfumed the air. She looked at herself in the mirror as she continued with her task. The face that stared back at her was the same one she had seen yesterday, but it was also different somehow. There was an awareness that she had not noticed before, the loss of innocence replaced with a woman’s knowledge.
After dropping the towel to the floor, she picked up her brush and began passing the bristles through the tangled skeins of her hair. When it was smooth and free of knots, she quickly braided it, letting the heavy plait fall over one shoulder. She thought about tying a bow in the end, but dismissed the idea. Bows were for children or young, innocent women, and she had crossed that threshold last night. Rian had warned her she could not go back. There would be no more bows, at least not in her hair, and besides, she smiled at her reflection, she was wearing enough bows already.
“Come to bed, Catherine.”
She turned and looked at her husband, who was propped up on one elbow, patting the empty expanse next to him in invitation. Mrs. Hatch had shooed him out of the room earlier as she helped Catherine prepare for her weddi
ng night.
“I think it’s a little late for that,” Catherine apologized as the housekeeper poured perfumed oil into her bathwater.
“Hush, lass,” the older woman had admonished gently. “You were married today and tonight is your wedding night. It matters not what happened before.”
Assuming a maternal role, Mrs. Hatch washed Catherine’s hair and sponged down her limbs. When she was dry, she dressed her in a lacy item that could barely pass for a nightgown.
“Where on earth did you find this?” Catherine asked in an amazed voice, holding the garment next to her and delighting in the feel of the delicate material.
“It was in your trunk.”
“My trunk? But I’ve never seen this before in my life!”
“Aye, well I think Master Rian has, as it was with the other clothes he bought for you.”
“How on earth—why would he?” Catherine shook her head, too bewildered to wonder what had been going through Rian’s mind when he’d purchased such an item for her. “It is beautiful though, isn’t it?” she sighed, letting the sheer gauze run through her fingers.
“Yes,” Mrs. Hatch agreed with a faint blush staining her cheeks. “It’s perfect. Now let’s get it on you so I can permit your groom to return.”
Catherine caught hold of the housekeeper’s hand and pressed her cheek against the back. “I want you to know, Mrs. Hatch, we meant no disrespect. It wasn’t Rian’s fault. I was the one who refused to wait.”
Salvation Page 5
