Wicked Delights Of A Bridal Bed

by Tracy Anne Warren

  Before she really even heard him move, he was standing beside her, his large hand covering her forehead.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Checking for fever.” He touched her cheeks next—one, then the other. “You don’t seem too warm.”

  “I’m not ill, at least not in the way you mean.” She jerked away. “It’s a headache, not a contagion.”

  He gave a gentle smile. “I am grateful to hear that, for both of our sakes.”

  “Now that you have assured yourself I am not at death’s door, you can go back to your bed,” she told him.

  “Not yet. Not until you tell me what has you so distressed again.”

  “I am not distressed.”

  “Don’t lie. Not to me, Mallory.”

  “It’s nothing.” She shrugged. “I am only tired.”

  “And yet oddly, you are awake in the middle of the night, reading a book rather than sleeping. Why is that?”

  “Go away,” she entreated.

  He shook his head. “You ought to know that you can’t get rid of me so easily.” Without waiting for permission, he took a seat next to her on the bed, their hips touching through the sheet and coverlet. Reaching out, he smoothed his hand over her hair. “Now, tell me what has happened.”

  “It doesn’t signify,” she murmured, rubbing her fingertips over the counterpane.

  “Obviously it does since it has made you so sad. I thought we had agreed not to keep secrets?”

  He was right, they had agreed. And considering all the things she’d shared with him already, what did one more confidence matter? “I had the nightmare again,” she said on a tremulous breath.

  “Ah.”

  Her head came up, her gaze meeting his. “Ah? What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Just ‘ah,’” he explained with a slight smile. “And the fact that I am not all that surprised. So what’s this nightmare about? And don’t try to put me off with excuses and denials this time. I think it will do you good to talk of it.”

  “I don’t know if I can,” she whispered, as pieces of the dream flashed inside her mind. “I’ve never told anyone.”

  “Then it’s time you did.”

  Needing the comfort of his strength, she leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. Drawing a bracing inhalation, she swallowed against the knot in her throat, then forced herself to begin.

  “I’m on a battlefield,” she whispered. “I’m dressed all in white, but my gown is red, stained and wet with blood. And everywhere I look there are dying and dead men.”

  In quiet, halting sentences, she described it all, down to the last detail. He let her speak, attempting no interruptions and asking no questions as she spoke. When it was done, she fell still and silent, aware of a curious lassitude that had spread through her body, easing the tight muscles in her neck and back.

  “It’s no wonder you’re troubled,” he said, low and rough. “That is a dream that would keep grown men awake.”

  “Even you?” she couldn’t help but ask.

  He nodded, rubbing his hand over her back in a soothing motion. “Yes, even me. I suspect it would leave me trembling and in need of a good stiff drink.”

  “You wouldn’t tremble. As for the drink…I wish I’d thought of that. Maybe if I’d liberated one of Edward’s bottles of brandy, I could have managed more than a couple of hours’ sleep over the past two days.”

  “A small dram wouldn’t hurt, but only in the short term. Spirits aren’t the answer. In fact, they might give you an entirely new set of bad dreams.”

  She sighed and eased back so she could look into his face. “Then what is the answer? Because I’m…”

  Lines of concern gathered on his forehead. “You’re what, Mal? Go on. Tell me.”

  “A-Afraid. I’m afraid to go to sleep. Afraid I’ll have the nightmare again, and it will sink me so deep I’ll never climb out again.”

  “It won’t.”

  She sent him a look of doubt.

  “I don’t mean you’ll never have the nightmare again,” he amended, “but you won’t go under because of it. What have I told you before? You’re strong. You’ll get through this. And there’s something you’re forgetting.”

  “Oh? And what is that?”

  His eyes shone a rich, reassuring brown. “It isn’t real. As vivid and realistic as your nightmare may be, as terrifying and heartbreaking as it undoubtedly seems, it’s still only make-believe.”

  “But he did die on a battlefield.”

  “Yes, but not the one in your imagination. It’s not real, and if you have the dream again, I want you to remember that. It’s only a dream.”

  “You make it all sound so simple.”

  “I don’t mean to imply that it’s easy, but in time the nightmare will go away. Trust in that, Mal, and believe in a future when you’ll sleep peacefully again.”

  She nodded, knowing intellectually that he was right. Yet in her heart the worry and fear remained. Truly, when she considered the matter, the only time she’d slept peacefully since Michael died was the morning when she’d lain in Adam’s arms. When he was with her, she was safe. When Adam was near, the world didn’t seem quite so bleak.

  “I’m glad you came here tonight,” she confessed. “Even if it is highly improper.”

  A slow grin spread over his mouth. “As you are well aware, I rarely do anything that isn’t improper. I mean, where’s the spice in life if one must always be worrying over such tedious trivialities as following the rules?”

  She smiled back, finding it impossible to resist. As she did, a measure of the desolate fog that had been blanketing her spirits lifted away, leaving her lighter and less weary than she had been these past two days.

  “That’s my girl,” he said in clear approval. “You ought to have told Penny to let me in earlier, you know. You could have saved yourself a great deal of worry and woe.”

  “But we would never have been able to talk like this,” she said, rubbing a fingertip over one of the buttons on his waistcoat. “I would never have told you about my nightmare, not with an audience in the room. And quite likely, I would be just as troubled now as ever.”

  “On that score, you may be right. I’m glad it’s just us tonight too.” He covered her hand and pressed it flat against his chest, idly stroking her fingers. A quiver traced over her skin, a heightened tingle that made her wonder if there was too much electricity in the air.

  Apparently Adam felt it as well, a dark gleam flaring to life in his seductive brown eyes, his lids sliding lower as if he’d suddenly grown sleepy. But she knew there was nothing genuinely sleepy about him, his instincts keen and razor-sharp in his watchful gaze.

  Abruptly she became aware of her dishabille, realizing that she wasn’t wearing anything more substantial than a thin cotton nightgown. True, it was a demure garment with buttons that fastened all the way up to her neck. But still, it was nothing more than a slight bit of cloth that separated her bare skin from his gaze and touch. Worse yet, they were on her bed, and he was only partially clothed himself; the two of them seated so close that she could see the pulse beating powerfully in his neck.

  Oddly weak and without the will to move, she sat mute, her heart thundering in her ears as he slid his fingers into her hair and cradled the back of her head. He angled her face slightly, then tipped his own head in the opposite direction.

  Mercy, is he going to kiss me?

  What’s more, do I want him to?

  Lost to his gaze, she had her answer seconds later, her mind and body abandoned to the moment and the man as he narrowed the distance between them and covered her mouth with his own.

  Bliss swept through her, a rising tide of pleasure that she was helpless to resist. She’d trembled before beneath his caress, but that sensation was nothing compared to the quake he was evoking now. One long, powerful arm curved around her back to draw her flush against him, his kiss turning deeper and more demanding.

  Feathering
the tip of his tongue across her lower lip, he left a trail of fire behind that made her gasp out loud. The instant her mouth opened, his tongue glided in, teasing around the contours of her soft flesh with sultry dips and swirls that made her quiver all the more. Her blood sizzled, the heat in the room rising to a steamy haze that made even her thin nightgown seem too much.

  Maybe I should pull it off.

  Maybe he should help me.

  Her eyelids popped open at the startling notion, breath panting from her lips as she pulled away.

  What am I thinking?

  What is he?

  Despite her having broken their kiss, he didn’t release her, his arms locked securely around her back, his fingers still tangled in her hair.

  “W-why did you do that?” she asked in a breathless voice, her senses spinning in a crazy jumble around her. “D-did you th-think I looked like I needed to be kissed again?”

  Something feral burned in his eyes, a look that was both raging and wild. “No. This time I’m the one who does.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Adam knew he should let her go.

  He was in too deep already and on the brink of entangling himself further still if the ache in his groin had anything to do with the matter. And yet, in spite of all the very excellent reasons why he knew he should release her—primary among them the fact that he was in her bedchamber in the middle of the night with all six of her brothers sleeping just down the corridor—he couldn’t seem to make himself turn her loose.

  Nor could he stop himself from wanting to take another heady draught from her ripe, honeyed lips. Plump and red and tender, her lips were more succulent than the finest fruit nature could grow. No wonder men buzzed around her like bees, even when she didn’t notice their existence.

  And then there were her eyes, their aquamarine depths as pure and translucent as a tropical sea. If he could swim in them, he wouldn’t hesitate to dive in. As he watched, her pupils dilated, guileless desire reflected back in a way that made his blood burn hot and thick.

  Maybe it was the blood draining out of his brain—and clearly the sense as well—but before he recognized his intentions, he bent again and crushed her mouth to his.

  Jesu, she tastes sweet. And the way she smells…like roses and champagne. It was an intoxicating blend that made him delirious with pleasure and hard and hungry with need.

  He kissed her again, coaxing her lips wide so he could plunder the rich softness he found inside. She mewled, adorable as a kitten, as she arched in his embrace, her hands lifting to clasp his shoulders and shift through the hair at the back of his neck.

  An answering groan rumbled low in his throat, then another as she kissed him back, her tongue sliding over his in an untutored repetition of the moves he’d been showing her. But delicious as he found her kiss, it soon wasn’t enough. He needed more, his senses clamouring for a fuller portion of the rapture he knew awaited them both.

  Without breaking their kiss, he leaned her back so she lay on the bed, her long, raven hair cascading over the pillows like a dark river. Tracing the delicate length of her throat, his fingers glided lower, pausing to unfasten each button he encountered along the way. He retraced the path he’d forged by brushing kisses over her satiny flesh one slow, tormenting inch at a time.

  She arched as he delved beneath the open placket of her nightgown to cup her naked breast. Her eyes flew open in surprise before drifting closed again in bliss, as breath came in rapid gusts from between her lips.

  He’d dreamed of touching her like this, but the experience was far better, far more intense and satisfying than anything his imagination had ever created. Her flesh was velvety soft, warm and pliant and a perfect handful for him to fondle.

  Her nipples beaded into taut peaks that begged to be caressed, and he was more than delighted to indulge them. She moaned as he stroked her, the sound turning him harder as his erection strained against his trousers. Desire beat in heavy pulses through his body, then even more intensely as he bent lower and opened his mouth over her.

  A strangled moan issued from her throat, her fingers sliding into his hair to clutch his head as if she meant to pull him away. Undaunted, he flicked his tongue over her in a way that drew forth a wild shudder. Her fingers relaxed, urging him closer as she offered herself to his ministrations.

  He smiled and suckled more deeply, loving the sleek softness of her fragrant skin, the decadent feel of her wet flesh against his tongue. Her head rolled on the pillow as he finished with one breast and moved to pleasure the other. One of her hands was still tangled in his hair. He trembled as she lifted the other and began caressing his neck and shoulders.

  Nearly blinded with passion, he drew on her breast even as he reached low, his fingers frantic as they grasped the hem of her nightgown to tug it high. She whimpered, her bare legs shifting as he explored the shape of one beautifully curved thigh. But when he came to the soft thicket of curls at the apex, her legs locked tight, her instinctive reaction barring his way.

  He knew he only needed to calm her innocent response, as he continued rousing her natural desires. He was skilled at lovemaking and confident that it would take little more than a few enthralling touches before she was quivering beneath him again, eager to welcome him inside.

  But even as he began caressing her with renewed purpose, some faint sliver of conscience burrowed its way into his brain, and he stopped.

  What am I doing? He wondered, giving himself a brutal mental shake. This is Mallory. The woman I love. The woman I know isn’t ready yet to take the irrevocable step of surrendering her virginity.

  He could seduce her, true, but at what cost? For as much as her body might crave the passion and pleasure he was giving her now, as much as she might want the release he could bring her, she wouldn’t feel the same once their coupling was done.

  In the cold light of day, she would despise him for leading her down this path, for taking advantage of her in a weak moment and stealing what was hers alone to give. She would see his passion and her own as a betrayal of everything they had ever shared, most particularly their friendship. Worse yet, she might come to hate him, and her enmity was the one thing he knew he could never bear.

  Aching as if he’d taken a blow to the vitals, he gave a wrenching groan and flung himself away to sit at the end of the bed. Gripping the heavy carved post so hard he was surprised it didn’t snap in two, he fought the desire still coursing through his veins like a raging fever.

  “Adam?” she murmured. “What is it? W-why are you sitting down there?”

  He said nothing as he watched her through slitted eyes. Slowly, she sat up, her eyebrows furrowing as she noticed the open placket of her nightgown. Reaching up, her fingers brushed one of her exposed breasts and she flinched, as if only then realizing she was half-naked. Trembling, she plucked the two sides of her bodice closed while simultaneously struggling to yank the skirt of her nightgown over her bare legs. Her skin turned pink as a summer sunset, and no matter how much it might be killing him, he knew he’d been right to stop.

  “I should go,” he said, his words clipped and gravelly.

  Her head came up, fingers clutching her bodice. “Go? But—”

  “It’s late, and I’ve stayed longer than I ought.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “You should sleep.” Standing, he took a step away. “I shall see you tomorrow, at nuncheon, I trust. Good night, Mallory.”

  Her fingers clenched harder. “G-good night, Adam.”

  A note in her voice stopped him, a forlorn little catch that made his chest squeeze tight. He knew he should ignore it and stride to the door as fast as his feet would take him. Instead, he waited. “What?”

  She looked up, not pretending to misunderstand. “I’m afraid.”

  He swallowed. “You’ll be fine.”

  “But what if I have the nightmare again? What if I can’t sleep at all? Don’t go.”

  “Mal,” he groaned, closing his eyes.

  “Please
. Just for a little while. I know you can’t stay all night, but maybe a few minutes more. I don’t want to be alone.”

  Reaching out, he grabbed hold of the bedpost again and fought the longing still burning inside him.

  “Please, Adam.”

  Say no, his conscience warned him. Tell her good night again and get the hell out.

  “I’ll sit in the chair,” he said.

  “B-but that’s so far away. Could you not sit on the bed? On the far side? It’s a large bed. You’ll barely know I’m here.”

  Who is she kidding? He thought.

  On the bed? Was she insane? Especially considering what they’d been doing on that very bed only a couple of minutes ago? But then he looked at her, noticing how the flush had drained out of her cheeks and the worry that gleamed in her vivid eyes. Fear was a powerful motivator, he knew, almost as powerful as desire.

  “Half an hour,” he said between his teeth. “I can’t stay any longer than that.”

  Now who’s the insane one?

  “Button your nightgown and get under the covers.”

  She turned a little pink again, then quickly did as she was told, tucking herself in tight. When she was swathed up to her chin, he walked around to the opposite side of the bed and took a seat at the bottom. Leaning back, he rested his shoulder against the bedpost.

  A minute of silence passed.

  “You can’t be comfortable,” she said in a small voice.

  “I am,” he lied. Angling his hip, he searched for a better spot.

  Silence fell again.

  “There’s plenty of room,” she whispered. “Why don’t you stretch out?”

  “Why don’t you go to sleep?”

  “I can’t, not with you all the way down there.”

  “I’m only a few feet away. Close your eyes and relax.”

  He could almost count the seconds in the next pause.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t,” she said. “Don’t be angry.”

  He closed his eyes again. “I’m not.”

  “But—”

  “Fine. I’ll lie down if it will help you doze off.”