A Promise of More (11 page)

She shook her head. His beauty robbed her of all speech.

He brought his head down once more and pressed his lips firmly against her mouth. His kiss was like nothing she had ever dreamed. His mouth was hot, wet, open against hers, bold and excitingly intimate. Her nostrils filled with his scent. Her mouth tasted his brandy flavor as shocking pleasure assaulted her senses.

The kiss went on, and on, and on, until she felt as though she were drowning. Drowning in feelings. Drowning in emotions that she wasn’t sure she wanted to feel. Reluctantly his mouth pulled away from hers, and he drew in a deep breath while capturing her gaze.

“Did you feel that? Did you feel the same fire I did? The signs are all there. Your pulse has quickened, your skin is flushed. Your body responds to mine.”

Her heart racing, Beatrice sat in his arms trying to analyze the perfectly described sensations that were overwhelming her. She couldn’t believe she was indeed feeling this way, experiencing powerful, forbidden sensations for a man she had only known for a day, a man she really didn’t know at all. Never had she had such a primal reaction to a man, and it frightened her. She wanted to feel pleasure but nothing more. With just one kiss she was certain Sebastian could make her feel far too much.

In all her twenty-five years, no man had ever stirred her the way one look from Sebastian could.

His eyes darkened with sensuality like a cloud-covered night. Captivated, she stared into them.

His voice dropped lower. “Shall we retire, my lady?”

She didn’t protest when he stood with her in his arms and made his way across
to the bed, which Beatrice eyed with trepidation, her mouth suddenly dry.

He looked down into her face, his gaze locking with hers. “Bridal nerves are not uncommon. I understand your nervousness, but I promise you have nothing to fear.”

“In this area, the intricate workings of pleasure, I curtsey to your experience. I trust you not to hurt me.”
Not to hurt me physically, that is
, Beatrice added to herself. The man had the power to hurt her emotionally if she let him.

She took a deep breath, chastising herself for being such a mouse. She was the one who had asked to become his bride, and agreed she would share his bed and provide him with children. Now it was her turn to uphold her end of the bargain, especially as it had turned out he was probably not guilty of the crime she’d thought him guilty of.

“Do you know what is supposed to happen between us?” he asked as he gently laid her on the bed.

“As I said before, I have an idea. But perhaps I have not been given the right information. I was told generally what to expect. That I should be prepared to submit and it will be painful the first time in particular.”

His eyes softened. “There will be a brief moment of pain, but after that, I promise you, you will find lovemaking quite pleasurable.”

“Half the women in England would not have rushed to your bed if you were not expert at what you do, my lord.”

“Sebastian. And it has not been quite that many.” His faint smile held more than a hint of charm. “I shall do my utmost to justify your faith in me.”

Beatrice searched his compelling eyes, finding a tenderness there that amazingly reassured her.

“I hope I do not disappoint you,” she said as she looked up into his face.

His brows drew together thoughtfully. “Disappoint?”

“You never wanted to marry me, and for all I know you never wanted to marry at all. I want to try and be a good wife to you.”

“I’m happy with this arrangement. I always knew I would marry and sire an heir. I just didn’t realize it would happen so fast.” A half smile flashed across his mouth before he gave a graceful shrug of his shoulders. “It’s too late now for recriminations or deliberations on our marriage.”

“I regret that I trapped you into an unwanted marriage,” Beatrice replied, her
voice rough with emotion. “Especially as it seems I have made a grave error of judgment.”

Sebastian rose over her, the muscles of his arms taut as he leaned above her, commanding her attention. “Let’s not regret the past. We both agreed that we were not unhappy with this marriage. I don’t want to spend tonight dwelling on regrets.” His dark eyes held her spellbound. “Do you think we could make a pact, sweetheart? For tonight we forget everything else, we forget your brother, we forget how it was that we came to be in this position.”

“I would like that.”

“So would I.” His voice was hushed. “This is our night. Nothing exists before or after this moment. Tonight we celebrate our union and start the marriage as we mean to go on. Friends.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He reached out and slid his fingers behind her nape. Time suddenly seemed suspended as he leaned in and his lips drew closer to hers. Her pulse leapt in an erratic rhythm. His mouth was amazingly soft and tender when it touched hers briefly, yet it stirred a riot of unruly emotions within her. She didn’t know what she wanted, but when he drew back, his fathomless gaze locked with hers, imprisoning her as surely as any chains.

Beatrice’s heart hammered as Sebastian leisurely looked down her body.

“I want you.”

Still holding her lightly, he slowly lay back on the bed, drawing her to lie on top of him. She’d never been this intimate with a man before; she felt his powerful body beneath her, knowing only his robe separated her from the feel of his skin. She felt the rough hairs of his legs, the feeling alien but exciting. Heat spread in her, catching hurtfully in her stomach as she found herself stretched fully over him, pressed against hard muscles.

“When I kiss you, darling, open your mouth,” he murmured as he delicately teased her into parting her lips.

She’d never wanted a man to kiss her, especially not after Dunmire’s horrid attempts, but the erotic sensation of his open mouth tasting deeply of hers sent her pulse racing. Riotous feelings his tongue’s invasion created sent her senses reeling. It was as if he wanted to taste her, and she was his favorite dish.

She could feel herself surrendering to Sebastian, her breath quickening in
ready arousal. How could one kiss wield so much power? Her senses swam in delicious confusion. The power he could deliver with just his mouth scared her. Thrilled her.

He left off kissing her and disappointment swamped her. To Beatrice’s joy he whispered in her ear, in a husky voice she could not deny, “Kiss me back.” Tentatively she complied, the novelty of seeking out the warmth of his mouth driving her boldness. Her tongue moved to meet his and she was rewarded by his low, guttural sound of approval.

Sebastian increased the pressure on her mouth with a new urgency. A heavy ache formed in her lower body as his intoxicating lips and tongue taught hers about kissing. So mesmerized by his wicked tongue, she’d not even noticed his hands stroking her back and bringing her lower body closer to his. She could feel him hard and pulsing beneath her.

Heated silence speared the room as they lay together learning each other’s taste and feel. Beatrice lost any perception of time, and any sense of herself. She should have been afraid. But something in his touch and kiss eased her fears. There was only the captivating awareness of Sebastian, of his raw masculinity and his sensual, drugging kisses, while she lay pliant upon his hard, strong body.

So far there didn’t seem to be a lot to be afraid of.

Eventually his kisses became more ardent. He claimed her mouth fully, dragging her into his kiss and sending delicious liquid sensations flooding through her defenseless body.

To her surprise Sebastian nudged her onto her back, the soft mattress a complete contrast to his hard, muscular frame. Her eyes fluttered open and she stared up at him. She trembled and clutched the sheets as if she were being tossed in a small boat on high seas, her cheeks hotly flushed, her senses spinning.

Frantic with need, she moved to curl her fingers in the silky softness of his hair, dragging him closer. It was as if he had lit a flame beneath her skin. She had no option but to ride the waves and press closer to him, longing for something she couldn’t name.

He pulled back and his eyes watched her as his hand moved to the tie of her robe at her waist. She felt herself drowning in their shadowed depths.

When his fingers found the strap to her nightgown, she tensed, but he bent to her again, his mouth hovering just above hers, heating her lips. “Don’t be afraid of
passion, sweetheart. I can’t promise there won’t be a prick of pain the first time, but it will last but a moment.”

When she made no protest, he gently slipped the sleeves of her robe down her shoulders. With his teeth he pulled at the ties down the front of her nightdress; her arms, trapped by her robe, were helpless to stop him, or aid him.

Sebastian parted the sides to expose the swell of her breasts, and she watched his eyes flare bright with heated desire. He bent and nudged the material apart with his nose, inhaling her scent, baring her nipples to the night air, making her shiver. It was the first time any man had touched her breasts, and she found his response to her body an aphrodisiac.

When his bold fingers found one hardened bud, she moaned involuntarily as unknown sensations shot to her core. She should have been embarrassed but she could not bring herself to turn away from Sebastian’s heated gaze.

He leaned above her, dark and dangerous. “Has any man ever seen you like this? All soft and wanting,” he whispered in her ear, his breath warm.

She could not speak, merely shook her head. All thoughts, all words, fled as his thumb moved slowly over the sensitive crest, circling and teasing her breast. Beatrice shut her eyes, giving in to the pleasure he so easily aroused in her—who knew she was a wanton? His warm, commanding mouth returned to claim hers as he gently tormented her aching breasts, leaving her whole body stretched taut with acute excitement. She was scarcely aware when he folded back the edges of her robe and slowly drew up the hem of her nightgown, his fingers trailing up her thigh, a sear of heat following in their wake. She gave a loud gasp as his stroking palm moved higher, brushing the soft, swollen flesh at the apex of her thighs.

Beatrice gulped back her cry of alarm. She tried not to let her fear paralyze her, but she couldn’t help tensing beneath his exploration. He continued to stroke her thighs, gently, reverently, until her body recognized his intent to give pleasure and she relaxed. Only then did he push her legs wide.

He was breathing deeply, his face a mask of taut control. “So brave, so trusting. You honor me, sweetheart. I won’t disappoint you. I promise you, you’ll like it.”

His words heightened her need even more than his fingers on her thigh. She opened eagerly for him without further coaxing. Her reward came when he stroked the soft, moist flesh of her womanhood. A heated, aching wetness pulsed to life in the
secret place between her legs. She felt so strong, molten, throbbing … Instinctively she whimpered and arched her back, longing for him to claim her as no man ever had. To be his first, his only …

That brought her to her senses. He might be her only but she doubted very much he’d be satisfied with only his wife in his bed. Sadness mingled with her desire. A poignant reminder of how he could take her to the heights of pleasure but never really be hers.

Her mundane thoughts fled as, with exquisite care, his finger slipped between her cleft lips and penetrated her.

He captured her surprise with his mouth, his tongue stroking the inside of her cheek as his finger did below. She was overcome with sensations, squirming beneath him, but he continued his tender ministrations, exploring, probing, learning her secrets. It was too much when the rough pad of his thumb brushed the now slick bud of her femininity. She arched up off the bed.

She clutched at his shoulders, not certain she could bear any more, but knowing she’d die if he stopped. Thankfully, he went on stroking, surging and withdrawing, rhythmically driving her on to greater heights. Her ingrained feminine instinct took over, and her hips lifted and sought to match his pace. It seemed to please him, his kiss deepened, his fingers moved faster …

Desperation raced through her and she moaned and twisted under his hand, the coiled tension inside her growing more urgent with every stroke until she thought fire and need would consume her. All she knew was the devastating heat of his mouth on hers, the hot pounding of her blood, the fierce delight of what he was doing to her. She wanted more.

Then she was flying …

Stars burst behind her tightly closed eyes, the pleasure so intense she struggled to remain in her body. Frantic, she writhed beneath his possessive hand, yet sensations owned her, held her, until she was but a small bright dot in the room. Beatrice embraced wave after wave of hot, delicious release, never wanting the pleasure to end.

His hand rose to cup her face. “So beautiful, so responsive. I’m a lucky man in my choice of wife.” He bent and his lips traced the thundering pulse at her neck before his mouth feathered kisses over her flushed face.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart.” He tipped her face up, and lowered his head to
hers. He studied her eyes as if searching for a truth. She didn’t even contemplate hiding herself from him.

He drew back. “Now I’ll make you mine. From tonight you’ll belong to me. There will be no other man for you. I insist on it. I will know any child you bear is mine!”

She refused to allow his insult to anger her. Her gaze focused on his lips. “Of course, you’re my husband.” She watched, mesmerized, as he drew in another breath as if he were trying to steady himself. She stretched up, drew his head down, brought her lips close to his and murmured, “I made a vow before God to share myself with only you. I won’t break that vow.”

He covered her lips with his, kissing her furiously. His hands trailed further up her body, pulling her night-robe with him, baring her skin; all the while his hands touched her like a whispered caress. Reverent. Worshiping. Claiming.

He pulled her into a sitting position and pushed the robe off her shoulders, and all but tore her night rail up over her head until she lay naked before him. Pulling her into his arms, he molded her close to him. Naked in his arms, she clung, and returned his kisses greedily, avidly, flagrantly encouraging him to seize, take, and claim. On a groan he pressed down on top of her, his hands cupping her bottom, pressing her to him, molding her softness against his erection while his tongue plundered her mouth, igniting in her a massive aching need.