by Darcy Burke
“Aquilla?” Ned’s concerned query dashed across the back of her neck.
She turned to face him, her body still tight with frustration.
“Is something the matter? I saw you talking with your father and your brother.” He frowned. “I saw your father grab your arm.”
Oh no, she wished he hadn’t. “He only wanted to offer me happiness.” She nearly choked on the words.
The concern in his expression didn’t fade. “Now is perhaps not the time, but I’ve been meaning to ask you about your family, about why they weren’t involved in planning the wedding.”
“My father is still disappointed that I chose to marry you instead of Lindsell.”
Ned took her hand and stroked his thumb along her fingers. He did that often. She found it soothing and just lovely. “So he wasn’t wishing you happiness. You can tell me anything. I take my responsibility as your husband quite seriously. Furthermore, if anyone causes you grief, I will put an end to it.”
There was a steel to his vow that made her tingle. She believed he would champion her.
But then her mother’s warning came back to her—never, ever trust him.
Except she was fairly certain Ned wasn’t like her father. Perhaps she was being naïve, but time would tell. “There’s no need, really. My family is just…difficult.”
He drew her farther away from the door. “In what way?”
The words burned her tongue. She’d told Lucy and Ivy a bit of it, but there was so much more. So many things she couldn’t bring herself to say. The verbal abuse she’d witnessed as a child had been bad enough, but knowing her father had backed all of it up with his hands made her terrified of finding herself in a similar situation.
She couldn’t bring herself to tell him. Not now. She clasped his hand and held it to her chest. “I’d rather not discuss it today. And maybe not ever. There are simply some…things that are better left between family.” She winced. “Not that you aren’t family. But I see you as my new family. My old family is the past, and I don’t expect we’ll have much to do with them.”
“I see.” His brow was still creased in little worry-filled pleats. There was also a glint in his eye as he darted a glance back toward the drawing room. He looked at her again and held her hand to his mouth, kissing the back. “I promised to keep you safe, and I will. I understand the desire to keep certain things inviolate. Someday, we’ll share everything, I’m sure.”
She had the sense he wasn’t just speaking of her secrets. Did he have secrets too?
He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. “We should return to our guests.”
She kissed him back, eager to lose herself in his touch. She knew what was coming later, when they were alone, had quizzed Lucy mercilessly about what to expect. And she’d much rather focus on that than the darkness of her family.
He pulled back, and his lips sprawled into a devastatingly handsome grin. “If you keep doing that, we’re going to ignore our guests completely.”
She shrugged as she smoothed her hand over his cravat. “I can’t say that I’d mind.”
He groaned and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Come, temptress.”
Giggling, she walked with her husband back into the house, her troubles of ten minutes ago nearly forgotten.
“Will there be anything else, my lord?” Ned’s valet asked from near the door to Ned’s bedchamber.
Ned stood in front of the fireplace and turned his head. “No, thank you, Connor.”
“May I offer my congratulations once more, my lord?”
Ned smiled. His staff was quite overjoyed at his marriage. “Thank you.”
As the door snapped closed behind Connor, Ned stared into the burning coals. It felt odd to be married—good but odd. He wished George had been there but was grateful he had Aunt Susannah. Though his family was small, it seemed a fair bit better than Aquilla’s.
He’d seen the way her father and brother looked at her. Indeed, the way they looked at their wives and at everyone, really, made him uncomfortable. Then he’d seen Sir Chester Knox grab Aquilla’s—his wife’s—arm, and he’d nearly lost his composure. Not wanting to make a scene that would feed the gossiping vultures for months, he’d watched and waited before following Aquilla outside.
Her tension had been palpable, and he’d wanted to ease her stress. There was clearly more to the issue than she told him, but he wouldn’t press her. As he’d said, they would share everything someday.
Someday.
When was that, exactly?
His conscience reminded him that he was also withholding information. He then reminded his conscience that it was with good reason. And he would respect that his wife had equally good reason.
A soft rap on the door connecting his chamber to Aquilla’s pulled him from his reverie. Tightening the tie on his banyan, he walked to the door and opened it.
Gazing at him shyly from the other side of the threshold stood his bride. She wore a pale but opaque night rail, and her hair lay over her shoulder in a single thick braid. He frowned, planning to dismantle it as soon as possible.
“You’re not ready?” she asked tentatively.
He realized he was frowning, which was conveying the absolutely wrong sentiment. He shook his head and lifted one corner of his mouth self-deprecatingly. “I am. I was mentally unraveling your braid. I’ve been eager to see your hair loose. It looks rather curly, and I’d like to know how that feels in my fingers.”
Color rose in her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. “Oh.” Her lips twisted, making her appear nervous. “I can tell you how it feels. Unruly.”
He laughed. “I like unruly.”
“Your hair has a slight curl,” she observed, looking at his mop.
“Yes, but very slight. It isn’t remotely the same.” His was several shades lighter, and hers was long and lush, and he knew it smelled of lavender and honey. “This is an odd conversation.”
“Yes. I’m rather good at those,” she said.
He remembered her attempts to deter him. “But that was on purpose, was it not? I’ve been curious as to why you behaved that way.”
“I didn’t really want to marry, and it was an effective defense. If a gentleman showed interest, I simply bored him to distraction, and he moved on.”
“Fools, the lot of them.”
She laughed. “Perhaps. But I’m quite skilled. In my youth, I talked incessantly. Thankfully, my nurse was a patient and intelligent woman. She answered every single question I posed, and when she didn’t know the answer, we searched for it together. Although I think I rather stumped her with how far away the sun and moon are.”
He couldn’t help smiling as he leaned against the doorframe. “Do you like astronomy?”
She nodded. “I like many things. I hope I’ll like this.” She inclined her head toward his room. “Is that where we’re going?”
He realized, stupidly, that he was standing in a doorway with his bride on their wedding night. She might bore other men—and he thanked God for that—but she absolutely captivated him. He straightened. “Yes. Or we can go to your chamber, if you prefer.”
She started forward and glanced up at him. “May I?”
“Yes, of course.” He stepped aside to allow her entry, and cursed himself for behaving like an idiot. He blamed her beauty and her charm for thoroughly distracting him.
She sauntered into his chamber and made a slow circuit. “Yours is much bigger.”
He stifled a smile at the double meaning her words could carry. But then what would she be comparing him to? He was entirely certain she was a virgin.
“Will it suffice?” He nearly laughed out loud but managed to keep a rein on himself.
“I think I prefer it to mine. Even your bed is larger.”
He couldn’t stand it anymore. He laughed.
She looked at him sharply. “What’s so amusing?”
He crossed to her and took her face in his hands, kissing her swiftly but fiercely. “Y
ou. You make me laugh and feel…good.”
Her blush resurfaced, and she glanced toward the fire. “Thank you.” When she returned her gaze to his, her regular color had returned. “I suppose we should get into the bed?”
“We can, yes.” He suddenly had images of her in all manner of places and positions, none of them involving a bed. “Or not.” He shook the titillating ideas from his mind. “This is your first time, so the bed is probably proper.”
“Proper?” She arched a brow at him and went to the bed, where she smoothed her hand over the coverlet. “I asked my nurse about this too. I asked her how babies were made, and she explained it to me. I said that couldn’t be proper. She told me that if I were lucky, I would marry a man who would ensure that it wasn’t. I still don’t really know what she meant by that.”
Ned went hard as a rock. “Ah, I think I understand.”
She climbed onto the bed and leaned back against the pillows. Then she patted the space next to her. “Why don’t you come and tell me?”
She wanted him to tell her? “I could, instead, show you,” he offered.
“Yes, I expect you will,” she said, her eyes narrowing seductively. Had she done that on purpose? Did she have any idea how alluring she was? How easily and effectively she was arousing him by just talking?
“I’ve just decided that you’ve taken conversation to a new level. Your ability with words quite transcends simple discussion.”
Her lips spread into a gorgeous grin that made her eyes sparkle like an untouched lake he’d seen once in the Highlands. “That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
He moved onto the bed, causing the mattress to dip as he settled next to her. “Am I to tell you how we will be improper or show you?”
“Both, I think. Why did she say I would be lucky?” Her brow was furrowed with genuine curiosity.
He was enthralled by her lack of guile. “I believe she was referring to the manner in which your husband would introduce you to his bed. Uh, there are many ways to be intimate.”
“Yes, I’ve gathered that from Lucy. She’s made it all sound incredibly spectacular—like the very best thing I’ll ever experience.” She looked away from him briefly, and he sensed her nervousness creeping back in. “I don’t believe it’s like that for every woman, however.”
“No, I don’t believe that it is. That is likely what your nurse meant.” He scooted closer to her and lightly caressed her jaw. “Aquilla, would you like me to be frank?”
She exhaled. “Yes, please.”
“There are many ways to have sex, but the most important thing is that you—and I—enjoy it.”
“That’s a given, isn’t it? I mean, why would you continue to do something if you don’t like it?”
“Ah, I think in many cases, people might continue out of a sense of duty. There are some men who don’t particularly care if a woman enjoys herself. I am not one of those men.”
Her mouth formed an O, and he thought she comprehended his meaning. Her lids drooped, making her gaze seductive and intensely arousing. “I find that unsurprising. I think I will fully understand once you show me.” She wiggled down the bed until she was lying flat on her back. “I’m ready.”
He smiled, his cock harder than it had maybe ever been. “I am too.” His gaze dipped down, and she followed it until she caught sight of the shape beneath his banyan.
“I can see that,” she murmured.
While she was a virgin, she seemed to at least be somewhat educated, what with her nurse and Lady Dartford filling her head. He also presumed that Lady Satterfield had conducted some sort of discussion.
He stretched out beside her and dug his elbow into the mattress so he could prop his head on his hand. With his free hand, he plucked at the tie of her night rail, loosening the neck opening, which already exposed her collarbones and a good portion of her chest above her breasts. “You seem to have expectations. Would you like to share them?”
“Not, ah, particularly.” Her answer came out higher than her usual voice.
He leaned over her, growing serious. “At any moment, you may tell me to stop. If you are uncomfortable in any way, tell me to stop. If you’d rather postpone this to another time, tell me to stop.” His body tightened as he fervently prayed that she would do no such thing.
“I don’t want you to stop. I do like that you’re talking to me. Maybe if you just continued with that.”
Yes, she’d taken talking somewhere he’d never imagined it. And he wasn’t the least bit sorry.
“Would you like me to explain as I go?”
Candles on either side of the bed splashed her in warm, seductive light. Her eyes sparkled with mirth. “I suppose I should tell you what I expect. That way you can skip the parts I already know.”
He moved closer until his leg grazed hers. “Oh yes, please. Do tell.”
She glanced down but didn’t flinch or try to edge away from him. “I know there is kissing—and I quite like that.” She stared at his mouth, and it took everything he had not to throw himself on top of her and kiss her until they were both mindless.
“There’s also touching. Lucy said you might be obsessed with my breasts. Do you think that will happen?”
His mouth went dry. “I think it could. But I really won’t know until I see them.”
“Well, have a look, then.” She reached up and tugged her night rail down to expose two smooth, pale globes. They were neither too big nor too small. They were, as he’d expected, perfect.
He summoned enough moisture in his mouth to speak. “They are lovely. The true test, however, comes when I touch them. And my obsession—if that is where I end up, and I do believe that’s quite possible, if not inevitable—will likely become your obsession. Because where I will be helpless to keep from touching them and kissing them, you will beg me to do so.”
Her gaze snapped to his, and she arched a brow. “You are awfully confident in your abilities.”
She had him there, but he wouldn’t deny it. He generally kept a mistress during the Season and hadn’t this year because he’d spent so much time working with Dr. Paget. “Then you be the judge.”
Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he cupped her breast. The warm mound filled his palm. He dragged his thumb over the nipple and felt it harden, but didn’t look. He was too entranced by the wonder in her gaze. He massaged her and stroked her, using his fingers to entice and arouse.
“This here is where you’re most sensitive, I think.” He squeezed her nipple gently. “Am I right?”
“Yes.” The word came out on an exhalation.
He pulled lightly, then cupped her again, then went back to her nipple in a rhythmic pattern. Her eyes glazed, and her lids grew heavy, dropping low as she let out a soft moan.
Her eyes opened wider. “My goodness. I didn’t mean to do that.”
“There might be many things you don’t mean to do, and I want to encourage you to do every one of them. In my opinion, inhibitions have no place in our bed. That, my love, is how we will get to improper.”
She curled her hand around his neck, her fingers digging lightly into his flesh. “Show me, please.”
He leaned down and took her nipple into his mouth, heard her sharp exhalation, saw her close her eyes and cast her head back, and he surrendered to his desire.
Pivoting, he lay flush against her as he suckled her. Her hand tangled in the back of his hair, and desperate little moans escaped her mouth, igniting his lust to a feverish degree.
“Is this…normal?” she rasped.
He heard the question, but it took a moment for him to process what she was asking. And even then, he wasn’t sure. Lifting his head, he gazed down at her. Her eyes were open, but just barely.
“Is what normal?” Certainly not his voice, which had dropped and sounded as though he’d swallowed gravel.
“How I…feel. You touch me here.” She touched her breast. “And I feel it…lower.
Male pride swelled in his che
st as he skimmed his hand along her ribs and over her belly until he found the mound between her legs. He pressed lightly, through the barrier of her night rail. “You mean, here?”
She gasped. “Yes.”
“I believe that’s quite normal. It also means I’m doing a fair job.”
“I think that’s an excellent assessment. Although, so far, there has been no kissing.” Her eyes opened a bit wider, and he saw teasing admonishment in her gaze. “Didn’t I tell you I liked kissing?”
“So you did. My apologies.” He scooted upward, which brought his pelvis against her thigh. “There are many types of kissing, however. Which do you prefer?”
She tugged at the back of his neck. “All of them?”
Chuckling, he swooped down and claimed her mouth, his lips taking control of hers, licking and suckling them as she gripped him tightly with her fingers. He pulled back and spoke against her mouth. “There are soft kisses.” He teased her with his lips, barely touching her.
“Those aren’t kisses at all,” she said crossly, jerking her head back even though it had nowhere to go since the pillow was beneath her head. She looked up at him with a prim expression that was completely at odds with the way her body sprawled beneath his. “May I?”
“Please.”
She cupped his face with her hands and settled her lips on his. She nibbled at his lower lip, demonstrating that she was a quick study. Then she thrust her tongue into his mouth and met his, coaxing him—it didn’t take much—to give her what she was giving him.
He sank into her, careful not to crush her with his weight. This was a mutual exploration, a conquest, but he didn’t think there would be a clear victor. No, they would both win in the end.
His hand knocked against her braid, and he broke away from kissing her to pull it loose, unraveling the hair with quick flicks of his hand. As the curls came free, he thrust his fingers into the soft locks. “I can’t believe I almost forgot. And yes, it feels as good—no, it feels better—than I imagined.” He buried his face in the mass and inhaled her lavender scent.
