whom?” he demanded.
“Trevor. He knows everything about everybody.”
“I told you this morning,” he said in a husky voice, “to believe only half the things you’re told about me.”
“Then you’re not skillful in the ways of . . . love?”
He burst out laughing. Actually, he thought lovemaking one of his areas of expertise, but he wasn’t about to admit that to his bride. It was bad enough that she knew about Emmie’s mother. He wondered if Trevor would have told her about Diane. “I know enough to . . . to teach you all you need to know, my dear.”
The firelight danced in her simmering eyes. “Will I be able to learn all I need to know tonight?”
Every minute he sat there talking about making love to her was sheer torture. “You’ll learn enough tonight, but I shall look forward to . . . expanding that knowledge every night.” Had he known marriage would be this intoxicating, he would have taken the plunge years earlier. But then he wouldn’t have won Fiona’s hand. And somehow he did not think marriage to anyone else could match having Fiona for his wife.
She stared at him. He felt deuced awkward. He did not know her well enough to know if this was a good stare or a bad stare. When she spoke, that question was answered.
“Could we skip the sweetmeats,” she said in a wispy voice, “and go upstairs now?”
He began to tremble and could barely find his voice. “An excellent idea.” He shoved away from the table and came to settle his hands on her smooth shoulders, dipping his head to nibble at her graceful neck. She bent toward him and began to make little whimpering sounds. In one sleek move he scooped her up into his arms and strode from the dining room to swiftly mount the stairs.
Lit by wall sconces, the second floor was eerily quiet. He came to his bedchamber and kicked open the door, pleased to see that servants had built a fire and left a candle burning at the bedside table. Her arms clasped behind his neck as he crossed the room and set her down on the bed. “Should you like me to send for your maid?” he murmured.
When she shook her head, her eyes looked glazed.
“Will you allow me to assist you in removing your clothing?” he asked in a husky voice as he came to sit beside her.
Her eyes widened as she met his somber gaze, then nodded.
Though the idea of allowing him—a virtual stranger—to strip her bare must have shocked her, it did not repulse her. Thank God. He wondered how many virginal daughters of the ton would be as precocious as the beautiful woman he had wed. God, he was pleased he had married her! “Should you like me to fetch the wine?” he asked.
“I had three glasses.” She began to untie his cravat. “I never have that much.”
“Does that mean you’re feeling mellow?” he asked, his lungs feeling bereft of air.
“I feel as if I’ve drunk an entire bottle of champagne, Nick.” She sounded unbelievably provocative when she said his name. “I feel all tingly inside. And breathless.”
He moved closer to her. “That’s perfectly normal. I feel the very same.” His lips lowered to gently touch hers. He heard a jerky intake of breath as her lips parted beneath his and she sucked his tongue into her mouth. He tasted the wine she had drunk, smelled her lavender scent, and thought he could explode with joy.
As the kiss intensified, his hands began to glide over her back, to cup her buttocks, to mold her small breasts. He gloried in the sound of her whimpering.
Her dress was easy to unfasten. He pushed it down to her waist and looked at her. “The stays will have to go, my love.” He began to unlace them, and when her breasts sprang free he almost lost his breath. “So beautiful,” he murmured, filling his hand with one, flicking his thumb over the rosy nipple, then bending down to take it into his mouth. She began to arch into him, her breasts flattening against his face as he sucked at one, then the other.
Over her skirts, his hand cupped her mound, squeezing at it, rubbing his wrist against her pelvis as she squirmed into his palm, moving from side to side and up and down and beginning to make moaning sounds that heated his blood.
Mindful that she wished to be taught all there was to know about lovemaking, he drew his face away from her breasts and spoke throatily. “When a woman is sexually aroused, the tips of her breasts harden into erotic points.” He throbbed as he watched her gaze drop to the nubs in the center of her nipples.
“And when a man is sexually aroused,” she asked in a low voice, lifting her smoldering gaze to him, “does something on his anatomy change?”
Good Lord! Did his wife not know about erections? He took her hand and held it to his crotch. “A man’s . . . member enlarges and becomes stiff. Feel me, Fiona. Curl your hands around my shaft.”
At first her fingers were stiff, then they began to gently coil around him. “You’re so . . . so big. I don’t think—”
He held an index finger to her mouth. “Don’t think, love. Trust me on this.” His hand went back to cupping her between her thighs, applying pressure that made her rhythm accelerate. “What you’ve got down here will accommodate my size,” he said. His other hand went beneath her skirts and inched up to her smooth thighs as he lowered her onto the bed. “One other change occurs to a sexually aroused woman,” he whispered.
“What?” she asked, her voice winded.
His voice was low when he asked, “Do you feel wet?” The hand beneath her skirts nudged up between her thighs and dipped into her slick folds. “Here?”
She looked like a woman drugged when she nodded and raised her hips into the movement of his fingers.
“This is nature’s way of lubricating you for my entry.” God, he wanted to enter her this second! She was so blessedly wet. Not able to wait much longer, he sat up and began to tug her dress all the way to her ankles, then she kicked one leg free.
Like everything else about her, her body was exquisite—tiny and milky white with little fluffs of breasts and a tuft of golden hair between her thighs. Had his life depended upon it, he could not have found a voice with which to spew on ad infinitum of her beauty. But it was a beauty that would forever be emblazoned upon his memory. And on his heart.
He stood and blew out the candle, then threw off his shirt and breeches. The hearth provided enough light for him to see her as he came to lie beside her, this time tenderly settling his lips over hers. “Are you ready, love?” he asked.
“Yes, please,” she said, sifting her fingers in his hair.
“You’ll need to widen your legs,” he whispered as he began to move over her.
She did as he told her, and he came to settle between those luscious lily thighs, his thumb pressing the pearly bud in the center of her, then easing one finger back into her slippery opening. “Oh, Nick,” she said with a sigh.
“I’m coming, love.” He tucked the head of his shaft into her, just until the head disappeared, then he stopped. “Are you all right?” he asked in a gentle voice.
“Yes,” she whispered as
