Accidental Peers 03 - Compromising Willa (21 page)

“No other woman compares to such perfection.” He slipped his mouth over her breast, sucking on the point, drawing it out. Hart’s hands moved under Willa’s bottom, pulling her against his hardened male flesh.

Heat and want pulsing through her, she pushed her body against the evidence of Hart’s desire for her, trying to answer the insistent throbbing between her legs. On instinct, she started moving in a rhythm up against his hardened body.

“Willa.” He called out her name, surprise in his voice. She stilled, afraid she had done something wrong.

“No, don’t stop. Whatever you do, don’t stop.” he said, pushing her dress up to her hips giving her more freedom of movement. His hands gripping her bottom, Hart helped her move. He put his head back against the squabs, growling with satisfaction.

They moved in tandem, ravenous and urgent. Hart’s eyes fastened on Willa’s face when she reached her peak, watching as her body seized and then shuddered.

Lost in the waves of shocking pleasure, Willa heard Hart cry out before burying his head in her breasts. Afterwards they were perfectly still. Willa kept her arms wrapped around Hart’s neck. From her position still astride him, she laid her cheek on the top of his head, taking in the soapy smell of his hair. Hart embraced her, tilting to look up into her face.

“If you could but see yourself now, you would never doubt your appeal.” Willa knew she must look a fright with her burning cheeks and tousled hair. Her parted lips felt swollen.

Hart brushed a kiss on her bare breast and Willa thought she heard him murmur, “Just beautiful.” But it was hard to hear over the pounding of her heart.

…

Despite the lateness of the hour, the household staff lined up to greet their new mistress when Hart and Willa arrived. They stood in a row, according to rank, in the massive entry hall where a crackling fire blazed in an immense white marble hearth. Hart introduced Willa to Mrs. Pearson, the housekeeper, and Digby, the butler. They in turn made the introductions of the household staff. Mrs. Pearson presented the maids while Digby introduced the footmen. The maids and footmen stood upright in a formal manner, sneaking curious looks at their new mistress. Willa smiled and repeated each name during the introductions, murmuring words to each person who stepped forward. Hart felt a surge of pride watching Willa glide down the line, elegant and self-assured, already every inch the duchess.

His mind went back to how she had moved atop him not so long ago, cheeks flushed against the pale perfection of her skin, her lips lush and swollen. His own body had reacted like an untried school boy. Despite not making love to her in the traditional way, he’d felt surprisingly sated after their encounter. He could not wait to bed her now, to finally make her his in every way.

He stepped forward. “Her Grace is fatigued. We shall retire.” Willa’s brows shot up at his interruption and then her cheeks flushed. He pulled her toward the stairs, anxious to show Willa to her chamber, the one that adjoined his.

“Really, Hart, what must the staff think?” she said once they were out of earshot.

“They will think I am anxious to bed my wife.” Hart put one arm under Willa’s knees, sweeping her off her feet and into his arms, carrying her up the stairs. “And they would be correct.”

…

The duchess’s rooms were enormous, making Willa’s comfortable accommodations at Camryn Park seem modest in comparison. The bedchamber was swathed in pink velvet and silk. An opulent four-poster bed with thick carved posts standing sentry around it dominated the space. Willa’s new dressing room was also generous in size and well appointed. Next to it was a door that Willa presumed connected to Hart’s chambers.

“I’ll expect you’ll want to refurbish these rooms to your liking,” Hart said, watching her.

Willa’s gaze took in the details of her new rooms. “It’s huge.”

Hart laughed and kissed her cheek. “You are my wife now, sweetheart. Only the finest will do for the Duchess of Hartwell. Mrs. Pearson will send your maid up to help you change,” he said, disappearing through the door that adjoined his rooms to hers.

It was too late for a bath to be made ready so Willa washed with a basin of warm water Clara prepared for her. Afterwards, she put on a new thin muslin nightgown and dressing gown from her trousseau. She pulled a nightcap over her unruly curls. Once Clara left, Willa could hear Hart moving around in his rooms. Muffled voices suggested his valet was still in with him.

She stood before the hearth, her heart racing, when she heard the adjoining door open. Hart loomed large in the doorway. His hair was loose, hanging in black strands around the uncompromising lines of his face. He wore a red satin dressing gown which fell open at the top, revealing a lightly muscled chest and a smattering of curly hair. Heat licked her skin at the sight of his bare calves, which were round with muscle and dusted with the same fine dark hairs.

Her mouth went dry. “I wasn’t sure you would come since it is so late. It has been a tiring day.”

He approached her and touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “Are you too tired for me, Willa?”

Yearning shot through her. She shook her head. “No.”

Hart pulled her nightcap off, freeing her tousled curls. His eyes glittered with desire. “My first request as your husband is that you never wear one of these unfortunate contraptions to bed. Your hair is glorious. Let me see your glory.”

Feeling shy, she ran her fingers through her hair to tidy it. Hart cradled her face in his large hands and kissed her slow and deep, tasting her with languid sweeping motions with his tongue, communicating a deep sense of longing and fervid need. Her legs dissolved beneath her. Feeling her waver, Hart caught her, pulling the length of her body up against his, her curves melding against his taut, muscled form. He took his time, exploring her fully, nibbling on her lips, leaving no part of her mouth untouched by his carnal exploration. Willa trembled under his touch, and waves of physical exhilaration lapped through her.

Taking her hand, he led her to the bed. He sat down on the side of it and pulled her to him so that she stood between his legs. He began to undo her wrapper. Jolted by his boldness, Willa flinched, her cheeks burning.

Surprise flickered in his dark eyes. “You know what happens in the marriage bed, Willa.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Doesn’t one usually put out the candles?” she managed to squeak out.

Hart smiled, drawing her wrapper off of her shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor. “I am your husband now. I want to see all of you. Will you allow it?” He fingered one of her loose curls. Mounting desire overtook Willa’s sense of modesty. Longing to see all of him too, she slipped her hands underneath his dressing gown to touch his bare shoulders. He felt hot, strong, and soft all at the same time. She pushed the cool, silky fabric away from his skin until it pooled at his waist, while her curious hands ran over the firm curves of his bare chest, over his shoulders and around his back. He stood, allowing his dressing gown to fall to the ground, leaving him completely bare to her gaze.

Willa’s mouth watered. He was all sinewy muscle and hard curves. On the most basic level, she was fascinated, having never seen a naked man before. She ran her inquisitive hands down his sides and over the length of his body. She looked at the massive flesh between his firm thighs with a mixture of wonder and wanting. He was already hard and jutting.

“You can touch it,” he said, the words both rough and tinged with a bit of desperation.

“Are you certain it’s all right?”

He laughed, warm and deep within his chest. “Quite certain.”

Willa reached down and wrapped her curious fingers around his male organ, stroking softly. Groaning, Hart reached down to pull Willa’s thin nightgown over her head.

…

She stood naked before him, her fingers touching his aching flesh. Willa’s luminous skin glowed in the candlelight, her wild curls cascaded around her shoulders, teasing at her lush breasts, their centers pink, lovely, and pert. She was so beautiful he ached with desire for her. Everything he wanted stood before him, his for the taking. He ran his hand over her shoulder and down to cup her supple breast, savoring its warm, succulent weight.

Had Bellingham touched her this way?

The traitorous thought invaded his mind. He dropped his hand, consciously shoving the thought from his head, trying to focus on the pleasure of Willa’s fingers wrapped around his aching rod.

She looked at him, her eyes glistening with wonder and sexual excitement. “You are so soft and hard at the same time.”

Had she done the same to Bellingham? Had she held him and stroked him the way she handled Hart now?
He grunted, trying to thunder the thought from his mind. He bent to kiss her hard before tossing Willa up onto the bed. Crawling over her on all fours, he kissed her with unbridled passion, driving his hungry tongue into her mouth, tasting, delving, longing to possess her completely.

He reached down to the triangle between her thighs, his finger going to the center of her pleasure.
Had Bellingham done the same when he took her
? Hart shook his head and drove his tongue further into Willa’s mouth, trying to eradicate jealousy’s dark grip. He clumsily pushed Willa’s legs apart and mounted her. Desperate to drive Bellingham’s ghost out of his marriage bed, he buried himself deep inside her with a single forceful stroke.

He heard Willa gasp at the tearing sensation, letting out a small scream as she tried to push him off her to stop the pain. He stilled inside her, his mind confused and unable, at first, to grasp the undeniable truth of what Willa’s body had just told him.

He’d felt her maidenhead.

She was a virgin.

Hart withdrew as gently as he could and tried to draw her into a protective embrace. She stiffened and rolled onto her side, inching away from him.

“Willa, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize,” he stammered, knowing how useless his words sounded, realizing the magnitude of his terrible mistake. Willa had entrusted herself to him and he had invaded her body like an animal. He should have gone slowly, prepared her tender flesh to receive him. Pangs of guilt and self-disgust swept through him. He touched her shoulder gently. “Willa—”

“Please, don’t touch me,” she said, her voice shaky. “I just need to be left alone for a moment. It…it was not what I expected.”

His gut twisted. Grabbing a blanket from the foot of the bed, he spread it over her, shielding her naked body from his gaze.

He rose from the bed and pulled on his dressing gown. His mind racing, he strode to the fireplace, unsure of what to do next. He shoved his hair away from his face and looked at Willa’s shape under the covers. She looked small and frightened, curled up as though willing him to be gone. Because he didn’t know what else to do for her, he went to the basin and wet a cloth. Returning to his wife, he knelt and she looked at him with large, unlit eyes.

Hart winced at the dullness he saw there. “Willa, I’m not going to hurt you, love.” He spoke in a soothing voice. “I’m just going to help clean you up a little. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

Still looking dazed, Willa didn’t protest when Hart drew up the blanket, uncovering only her legs and the triangle of dark fur between her thighs, while the rest of her body remained hidden by the blanket. She tensed when he began to wipe the red fluid from her thighs.

“There, love, almost done,” he said, drawing the blanket over her lithe limbs to shield her again once he was done.

She finally looked at him. “Hart, you seemed angry when you did it… Is it always like that?”

“No, honey, no.” He stroked her hair as self-loathing swamped him. “I was an idiot, an oaf. Please forgive me.”

“I…I can’t imagine doing that too often.”

“I understand a woman’s first time can be painful. I should have been more gentle. I didn’t realize it was your first time.” He regretted the words the moment they slipped out.

She stilled. “What do you mean?”

“Willa,” he asked, his chest tight, “why did you lead me to believe you were no longer an innocent?”

“What?” Sitting up, she clutched the blanket tightly to her chest, and waved off his stroking hand as one might swat a troublesome insect. “I did no such thing.”

“You indicated that you and Bellingham—”

She stared at him in disbelief. Hart caught sight of the anger coming in behind the confusion. A part of him felt relief to see the old fighting Willa emerge. The other part began to realize just how colossal a mistake he’d made.

“The inn—” he said weakly.

Willa’s face flushed with rising indignation. “You thought I allowed Augustus to
bed
me at the inn? Granted, I was an idiot to meet him there, but you must think me a total fool.”

“The chambermaid at the inn said—” he began in his defense.

“The chambermaid at what inn?” Hart had a sinking feeling as comprehension dawned on her face. “You went to the inn? Why? To investigate me?” She looked around. “Drat! Where are my clothes?”

Hart picked them up, handing them to her.

“Thank you…” she said, years of etiquette kicking in before she could catch herself. “I mean…blast it. Turn around.” He complied, listening to the sounds of her movements, the rustle followed by the slide of her nightclothes against her skin.