by Emma Wildes
“I could tell you were thoroughly enjoying yourself.” Ross’s smile was wry. “But what part specifically did you find interesting?”
“You…ogled me and…actually discussed my breasts.”
“I admire them, I confess. My apologies if I embarrassed you.” Despite the polite words, he didn’t look apologetic in the least.
“What about Madame’s pretty young assistants?” His eyebrows shot up. “What about them?”
Cassandra felt a little ridiculous all at once. She wasn’t even sure she had the right to be jealous. Yes, she was his wife, but it wasn’t like he realized the depths of her feelings and certainly she imagined he looked at their marriage in a fairly simple way that did not include something as foolish and romantic as love. “Nothing,” she mumbled, looking away and sighing. “Forget I said anything.”
“I made it a special point to show my appreciation for your delectable body, Cassie. As for the other part…were there other women in the room? If so, I didn’t notice. Remember, I was too busy ogling you.”
The reply was so facile, said smoothly and with such amused ease that she couldn’t help but wonder how many women before her he’d soothed out of a jealous fit of pique. As usual, he could tell exactly what she was thinking for he immediately added, “I’m sincere, by the way. By this evening I predict all of London will know that I sat through your fitting and looked at you with undisguised lust the entire time.”
Her mouth parted and she stared at him in surprise. “You acted that way on purpose?”
“It wasn’t exactly acting, Cassie. Let’s just say I didn’t bother to hide my approval of your bountiful physical charms.”
She might be inexperienced, but she wasn’t unintelligent. “I take it you want everyone to think you chose to marry me, rather than the truth.”
His mouth tightened a fraction. “You are too sensitive on an issue that isn’t exactly black and white. Your observation is very astute, but not quite accurate. Yes, I’d just as soon you not suffer any unnecessary gossip and speculation over why we married.”
Her hands folded primly in her lap, she just wasn’t sure what to say. Finally, she murmured, “Well, I suppose I should thank you then for trying to protect me.”
“I was rather hoping you would thank me when we got home.”
Cassandra looked at him uncertainly.
“In bed,” he clarified.
“But it’s afternoon,” she protested. The bright sunshine outside made the carriage warm despite the cool fall air.
He laughed, his blue eyes glimmering. “Somehow I knew you were going to say that. Come now, please tell me you realize that sex is not an activity confined to certain hours of the day or levels of illumination.”
“To be honest, I hadn’t ever thought about it, Ross,” she told him defensively, lifting her brows. “Before now, why would I?”
“I like that, you know.” His voice changed, holding a sensual timbre, and his eyes seemed to darken slightly. “The idea that before me you were completely untouched is inexplicably arousing, and believe me, if someone would have told me I would enjoy a grass green woman in my bed, I would have thought they were insane. However, in your case, Cassie, my former rules seemed to be suspended.”
The heat in his gaze was palatable and Cassandra felt her body respond, her breasts tightening.
“I can prove my sincerity,” her husband added with a twitch of his lips, “for my current condition is rather uncomfortable.” He shifted his lean body on the seat and his jacket opened slightly.
Eyes widening, Cassandra registered his words, her gaze dropping to the clearly visible bulge in his tailored breeches. “Ross.”
“Last night I let you sleep, though I was tempted to wake you, believe me. Now, I’ve just sat through hours at the dressmaker with you almost completely undressed, striving to be on my best behavior. I wouldn’t mind some…compensation.” His smile was devastating in its charm. “And as you see, my appreciation was entirely genuine.”
“You weren’t that way when we were there, were you?” Cassandra stifled the urge to laugh, her hand coming up to her lips.
“Why do you think I sat with my legs crossed the entire time?”
Did she really have that much power, even if it was just sexual in nature, over him? The idea was heady, though unfamiliar, and Cassandra felt a glimmer of hope mingled with uncertainty.
Desire. It shone in his eyes, in those cobalt depths that stared at her with flaring intensity. Looking at him through the veil of her lowered lashes, she teased, “What kind of compensation did you have in mind?”
Good God, had she just been…flirtatious?
Ross shifted again, a restive movement of his well-muscled body. “I’ll be more than glad to show you,” he promised with an edge to his deep voice.
* * * *
Maybe it was the notion she was carnally available to him at all times, Ross thought as he closed the door to his bedroom. Maybe it was the fact that it was his duty to bed her, and her duty, most certainly, to allow him his conjugal rights whenever he wished.
Or possibly he was just absolutely mesmerized by her fresh, honest beauty.
“I want to undress you,” he suggested huskily, tugging his cravat free. “Come here, my sweet.”
Cassandra glanced apprehensively at the door. “Shouldn’t you lock it?”
“Do you honestly think anyone will come in?” He grinned as he slid off his jacket and tossed in on a velvet-covered chair. “By now no doubt the entire household knows we came home and I directly dragged you up to my bedroom. Trust me, Cassie, we’ll be entirely undisturbed for the next few hours. After all, we are very newly married. No one is surprised, I’m sure.”
“They’ll know what we’re doing.” Her expression was adorably chagrined.
“For hours,” he confirmed with a wicked smile. “Now come here.”
Or maybe hours was too short an assumption. He’d keep her in bed for days, he decided as she obediently turned her back so he could unfasten her gown. He did so deftly, smoothing it over her shoulders so it fell to the floor. The pins holding her simple chignon went next, the warm silken tumble of her hair cascading down her back. Lifting the heavy mass, he let his mouth brush her nape and felt her shiver. The hot-blooded need to touch her was overwhelming, and considering he’d been thinking about this since the moment his tempting young wife had shyly stepped up on the dais at the dressmaker’s clad in nothing but thin cloth with a touch of lace, he did nothing to fight the urge.
Standing behind her, he let his hands slide forward to cup her breasts through her chemise. They felt firm and full and he lifted them slightly, testing the opulent weight of each one, savoring her sharp inward breath and how quickly her nipples hardened under the light swirl of his thumb. “I’ve wanted to do this all afternoon,” he whispered suggestively in her ear, lightly nipping the soft lobe as he stroked pliant flesh. “Everyone at Madame Giacomelli’s also knew I was going to bring you home and make love to you, Cassie.”
“Did they?” she asked tartly. “Undoubtedly they were envious of my good fortune. Those young girls certainly made no secret of their…admiration.”
The hint of irritation in her voice was arousing somehow, though he usually found jealous females an irritant. Ross kissed her graceful neck, still stroking her luscious, firm flesh. Very lightly, his beautiful wife leaned back against him, her eyes half-shut as he fondled her.
The flirtatious actions of the modiste’s assistants didn’t interest him in the least. “I intend to make you feel very, very fortunate,” he promised, noting with dark satisfaction the rise of a flush in her cheeks and the way her nipples protruded against the thin material of her chemise as he massaged them. He added, “In a myriad of ways. But I do have to give you fair warning. Having a perpetual erection for several hours may make me impatient the first time.” His hands slid downward, over the slender dip of her waist, spanning it easily. He splayed his fingers over her hips, and then caught th
e material of her shift, pulling it upward so she was entirely exposed from the waist down. The dainty triangle of pubic hair between her legs was soft under his questing touch, and he was gratified to feel the sleek dampness of her sex as her body readied for him.
Cassandra’s soft bare bottom pressed against his confined but straining erection, and he stifled a low groan. “In fact, I need to be inside you now.”
The fact he’d said it out loud and with such hoarse, blatant sincerity, gave him pause for one second. One second, that was all. It was true, his impatience with Cassandra was out of character for a man who usually viewed sex as a pleasurable distraction, a leisurely physical pursuit that was more a light-hearted game than anything. However, the sentiment expressed in his words was entirely accurate. The current level of his arousal was anything but casual.
Ross propelled her toward the bed and swiftly placed her on her back. The chemise was still bunched around her waist as he unfastened his breeches. Cassandra’s expression was slightly bemused as she watched him pull the cloth open just far enough to free his swollen cock. It jutted upward, his pulse beating in the engorged tip, and Ross climbed on top of her lush half-nude body to position himself. Her legs parted willingly as he settled between them, and in one hard thrust, he sheathed himself in wet, receptive heat.
She gasped and he stilled, his hands braced by her slender shoulders. “I didn’t hurt you,” he said, hoping to hell it was true.
“No,” she said to his relief. She tilted her head back and opened her legs wider. “Oh, Ross.”
He’d make love to her next time, he decided as he slid backwards and surged forward. Right now he needed to fuck her hard and expediently. No soft kisses, no tender whispers, just her luscious body taking him to the hilt as he moved in almost frantic need. It was unique in his experience to be so feverish, so demanding, but he didn’t care one whit about it as he felt the sheer magnitude of the potent desire swirling through his body.
Beneath him, Cassandra made small sounds of pleasure—those sexy sounds he found absolutely enchanting—and gave him what he wanted so badly with her eager compliance. The pleasure was exquisite, consuming, and with each accepting lift of her hips he battled the urgency of release.
It was heated lush pleasure of the basest kind, all sensation, all instinct and self-gratification.
His beautiful young wife didn’t seem to mind at all.
Quite the opposite. If her breathless moans and clutching hands were any indication, she climbed toward orgasmic bliss at the same reckless, rapid pace.
When Ross saw her lashes drift low and felt the bite of her nails through his shirt, his testicles tightened on cue. She cried out moments later, the small spasms beginning, her vaginal walls exquisitely milking his surging cock. Ross joined her, pushing in as deep as possible as his world exploded in a maelstrom of carnal pleasure. The burst of his ejaculation was volatile and he shuddered with each erotic, acute pulse.
At least, he thought in self-mockery when his breathing had stilled to something close to normal, Cassandra was too innocent to realize just what she did to him. His bride probably thought it was perfectly normal for an experienced man who had a reputation for finesse and detachment to haul her off to bed while he was still fully dressed, not even bother with more than a moment of foreplay, and then spend himself in minutes.
The truth was, it wasn’t normal at all.
It was disturbing, and he wasn’t easily put off balance.
But it was also exhilarating and he refused to analyze it too deeply, not when she was warm and willing in his arms.
* * * *
Propped against the pillows in the huge bed, Ross watched her touch him through half-closed eyes. She wasn’t bold by nature, but Cassandra was curious about his body—about sex in general in her newly enlightened state over that activity—and very lightly she ran her fingers over the defined muscles of his broad chest. “I like how you feel,” she murmured, marveling at how hard he was, how solid and strong. She lay in the circle of his arm, her naked body supine and her head resting comfortably on his shoulder.
“The sentiment is mutual,” he said with amused reverence, his lean nude body relaxed on the fine linen sheets. The brilliant blue of his eyes was shaded by thick dark lashes.
She hesitated, her palm over the steady beat of his heart, and then asked curiously, “I can’t really imagine it, but is it true there are men who like men and women who like women?”
Her husband’s dark brows shot up. “Wherever did you hear that?”
“I read about it. My father had an extensive library, as you know, and was liberal in his thoughts and tastes in literature. I think there is a little bit of everything in there.”
“Ah yes, you and the book constantly in your hand.” Ross said the words in a neutral tone, but his expression was hard to read. His dark hair was like black tousled silk against the white pillowslip and his skin warm under her hand. “I don’t suppose it occurred to Tim to ever censor your reading material.”
That notion was so ridiculous, Cassandra immediately shook her head. “Of course not. Why would he?”
“To protect you, my dear, from indelicate subjects such as the one you just broached. Maybe I’d better take a glance at what books we have here and at Winterton before I set you loose. God knows what my illustrious ancestors might have deemed suitable literature, for I barely have glanced at those shelves since I left Cambridge.”
The idea he might consider dictating what she chose to read was so outrageous, she snatched her hand away and sat up to stare at him. The warm intimate atmosphere of the moment vanished in an instant. “If you don’t wish to answer my question, just say so. But surely you wouldn’t ever presume to treat me as if I can’t make my own choices simply because you are male and I am female. I am every bit as intelligent as you are, Ross, and a grown woman.”
“Yes, indeed.” His gaze boldly examined her bare breasts.
“I’m quite serious.”
“So am I.” His hand lifted and grazed her nipple in a light, practiced caress.
It was irritating that he seemed to think seduction was the answer for any conflict between them and Cassandra fought the urge to childishly pull away. Instead she looked him in the eyes and said quietly, “I am your wife, but not your subject.”
“Relax.” He caught her wrist and brought her hand back to his chest, flattening it once again on his bronzed skin. That audacious, charming smile that was so beguiling played on his lips. “I was teasing you, Cassie. I admit I am not used to females who are more interested in books than ball gowns, but I am glad you are not some insipid, simpering shallow creature without a thought in her head. I am not experienced at being a husband yet, but one mistake I will not make is to tell you what you can and cannot read. You are a contradiction, my lovely wife, because you have no trouble allowing me to choose your gowns and slippers, but become positively militant at the idea of my selecting your reading material. Allow me time to adjust my expectations, if you please, but accept my assurances I will try to do so.”
As always, his power to disarm was compelling. She looked at him suspiciously, but he seemed suitably sincere, and she did relax. “Tim told me I was a bluestocking,” she confessed.
“A most charming and delightful one.”
With certain dismay, she said, “You think so, too?”
His mouth quirked. “I think you are beautiful, passionate, honest, and have a wonderful inquiring mind. I will prove it. To answer your previous question…well, yes, there are some people who have an inexplicable preference for their own sex. Since I have a hard time imagining being attracted to a man, do not ask me why it is that way because I cannot answer. The few I know keep it carefully hidden, for society in general thinks it is unnatural.”
“Do you think it is unnatural?” Mollified by his capitulation, she couldn’t help but wonder what someone as worldly as her well-traveled, well-educated husband thought about the subject.
“Ar
e we having an intellectual discussion on sexual preferences?”
“I am admittedly curious of your opinion.”
“Is there a specific reason?”
Cassandra hesitated, but then said, “I have a cousin. She is actually very attractive, but has never married. Instead she has a friend, a woman, and they have been companions for years, living together in the same house. I like her immensely, and have always wondered about their relationship because they are so very fond of each other, like—like…”
“Lovers?” he supplied with a lifted brow. “It might very well be. Personally, I see nothing wrong with what two adults do behind their bedroom doors, as long as they both wish it. It most certainly is not an issue of whether or not a person is good or bad. If your cousin is happy, what is the harm?”
Relieved he felt that way for she had little respect for narrow-minded views, she sank back down against him. Thoughtfully, she mused, “I’ve always thought that myself. Besides, it can’t be entirely unnatural since apparently there have been people with those inclinations for centuries. Even the ancient Greeks mention it. With women, I suppose I can see now how they could, well, be together in a pleasurable way, but how on earth could men—”
Ross lifted her suddenly so her nude body sprawled across his prone form. With his hand at her nape, he brought her head down so his mouth brushed hers and he said against her lips, “While I find your curiosity endearing, I refuse to describe the process, sweetheart. However, I am more than willing to give you lessons in the different ways men and women can come together. If you wish to ponder the subject of sex, I will be happy to demonstrate all the male/female varieties I know. Notice my enthusiasm for your research?”
They had already made love several times, but she could feel he was getting hard again, his penis lengthening against the flat plane of his stomach. Excitement flared, spiraling through her body and centering between her legs. Breathlessly, she said, “That sounds interesting.”
