Bite Me, Your Grace (14 page)

Jane nodded. “Not in the dangerous or amusing variety, though. From what I understand, he is merely reclusive and hardly ever leaves his estate in Cornwall. He must be very close to your husband to have braved the wilds of London… or perhaps he was as eager as the rest of us to see Burnrath House. His Grace has never entertained before, you know.”

“I had heard that,” Angelica agreed, smiling at the duchess's chatter as she digested the information. Likely “the Mad Deveril” was another vampire. She would have to ask Ian at the earliest opportunity. Where was he, anyway?

“I have been clamoring to see the inside of this place.” Jane's green eyes shone with eagerness. “Though these gas lamps make me nervous! What if one were to set the house ablaze?”

Angelica felt an odd twinge of irritation that anyone would dare criticize her new home. “Well, I'd read in
The
Times
that the Westminster Gas Light and Coke Company anticipates these lamps to be in every home within twenty years.”

“How very interesting.” As if sensing her defensiveness, Jane changed the subject. “I believe you lived nearby?”

Angelica nodded, thrilled that someone shared her interest in this magnificent house. “I did. Burnrath House has always held my fascination as well.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I still cannot believe that it is now mine.”

Jane smiled and tossed her auburn curls. “And the rest of society cannot believe that Lord Burnrath is now yours.” She inclined her head toward a group of young debutantes whispering and pouting in their direction.

Angelica frowned. She had heard enough on that subject from her mother. Surely the ladies were not that envious of her. Such a thing would be tragic, for she did so want to make some friends.

Her gaze strayed back to the scarred man. His scowl had deepened. “Who is that other man?” She was careful to incline her head only slightly.

Jane peered over the lacy edge of her fan. “I am not completely certain, but I believe he may be the infamous pugilist who Burnrath sponsors. He is only known as ‘the Spaniard.' The description definitely fits him, anyway.” The duchess shook her head. “I do not understand why Burnrath invited him. He cannot dance with only one arm.”

“Yet he can box?” Angelica asked archly.

The Duke of Wentworth interrupted the fascinating conversation and winked at his wife. “You have monopolized the bride long enough, my lady. A multitude of gentlemen are waiting to dance with this beautiful creature.”

With that, Angelica was pulled onto the dance floor. She danced with so many men she couldn't keep count, and for the first time in her life, she enjoyed herself at a ball. No longer were men dancing with her because they had designs on her dowry. Now dancing was merely a pleasant entertainment. A few asked her about the rumors of Ian being a vampire, but she laughed them off as if the concept was the most ludicrous thing she had ever heard. Quickly, she glanced at Lord Deveril. He gave her a brief half smile and inclined his head as if he approved of how she had handled the situation.

Her Winthrop cousins giggled and danced as well, resplendent in their new formal gowns. Half of the young bucks in attendance were already obviously smitten with the gypsy-like girls. Angelica took as much time as she could to get reacquainted with them before they were all swept away for yet another dance. As the evening progressed, the gentlemen became foxed and tried to steal kisses from her. Angelica laughed as she ducked and bobbed to avoid their advances, the merriment increased by her new husband's dark scowls.

“Come, let us retire,” Ian said, removing the champagne glass from her hand.

Angelica blinked. “But why? It is only midnight and the guests show no inclination of leaving.”

Ian smiled. “This is our wedding night. We are expected to go up to our bedchamber.”

Understanding lit her eyes. “Oh, I see.” Likely, his reputation would be harmed if people knew he could not have children. “What will we do up there?”

He frowned. “We will have our wedding night, of course.”

She gazed up at him in confusion. After looking around to make sure no one was listening, she rose up on her toes and whispered, “But I thought that you were unable give me children.”

He appeared to be torn between frustration and laughter. “I may not be able to impregnate you,” he whispered against her neck, sending shivers down her entire body. “But I assure you, my duchess, I am perfectly capable of the act.”

Shivering in trepidation, she changed the subject. “Is Lord Deveril also a vampire?”

Ian nodded impatiently. “Yes, he is the Lord of Cornwall.”

“And the Spaniard with the scars?” she prodded.

“He is my second in command, and he will remain on guard for the remainder of the ball.” Before Angelica could question him further, Ian swept her into his arms and carried her up the stairs to the accompaniment of coarse laughter and ribald comments she could only half understand.

The bedchamber was huge and daunting with shadows in every corner that seemed to encroach on the large four-poster bed. Liza was waiting next to it, just finishing arranging rose petals on the coverlet. The whole scenario looked fitting for a ritual sacrifice. Angelica forgot all about her curiosity about the other vampires as the impending consummation of her marriage loomed over her in stark clarity.

“I am ready to help prepare you for bed, Your Grace.” Her maid blushed and led Angelica through an adjoining door.

“I hope he will be gentle with you, truly I do.” Liza divested Angelica of her wedding gown and helped her into a filmy white scrap of satin. “But at least you will be comforted by the fact that he will give you such beautiful children!”

Angelica shivered.
No, I will not.
What
he
is
going
to
do
to
me
will
give
me
no
comfort
at
all.

Liza departed, and with quaking knees, Angelica crossed the length of the bedchamber to join her vampire husband. His back was to her as he faced the fireplace. The orange flickering light cast sinister shadows on the wall.

“Here I am, Your Grace.” She lifted her chin and prayed he did not hear the fear in her voice.

Ian whipped around, his eyes glowing hungrily at the sight of her in the nearly transparent nightgown. “Dear God,” he breathed.

Despite her trepidation, Angelica couldn't suppress a light laugh. “I didn't think vampires would speak much about God.” At his slight smile, with no dimming at his intense stare, she sobered.

“You look like the seraphim you were named for, Angel.” His voice was husky. “Come here.”

She couldn't stop herself from stepping backward, farther away from him. “What are you going to do to me?”
How
badly
would
it
hurt?

“I am going to make love to you.” He stepped forward, slowly approaching until their bodies touched.

That didn't sound so bad. Ian's lips claimed hers, and he gripped her shoulders as he whispered between kisses, “I feel as if I have been waiting an eternity to have you, Angel.”

His hands crept down to the bodice of her gown and he began to untie the laces. She gasped at the feel of his hands on such an intimate part of her body. She struggled and tried to shove him away. “What are you doing?”

He stepped back and blinked. “What exactly did your mother tell you about what goes on between married couples behind closed doors?”

She shuddered and pulled the fabric of the gown tight around her bodice. “She said you would hurt me very badly and that I would bleed.” Her eyes narrowed and her tone grew laced with hostility at such a horrific concept. “She said I must submit to you without complaint.”

He cursed and Angelica flinched. “I suppose that explains why you're an only child. Damn, I hate some of the traditions of this century. To keep a young woman in ignorance of one of the most important facts of life is… is a goddamned outrage!” He ran a hand through his hair and sat on the bed. “Sit down with me, Angel. You're shaking so hard that I am afraid you will topple over to the floor.”

Angelica felt a small measure of comfort in the gentleness in his voice and only cringed a bit when she sat beside him.

He took her chin in his hand, coaxing her to meet his gaze as he stroked her cheek with his thumb. “What
we
are going to do, couples have been doing
joyfully
since the beginning of time. The act of love is about giving and receiving pleasure. I implore you to wipe the word ‘submit' from your mind. I do not intend for you to feel like you're doing anything of the sort.”

“Then you won't hurt me?” she asked, still feeling an edge of doubt. Her mother had been so adamant that the consummation of her marriage would be awful. But Ian had never lied to her before.

He sighed again and took her hand, softly stroking her wrist with his thumb. “I am sorry, Angel, but there will most likely be pain the first time, but
only
the first time, and only for a moment. I will be as gentle as I am able.”

She nodded, believing him. “Will you kiss me?” she asked shyly.

He smiled in a way that warmed her to her toes. “Oh, yes. Many times… all over.” This time she didn't pull back when he took her lips in a slow, drugging kiss.

His kisses seemed to last for an eternity. Ian slowly ran his hands through her hair and stroked her back in soothing motions. Emboldened, she threaded her fingers through the thick black locks of his hair, sighing at its texture. Slowly, they sank down onto the bed, lying in each other's arms.

Angelica's eyes widened as he sat up and removed his shirt. His chest was broad and sculpted like that of a Greek god. His abdomen was flat with ridged muscles that made
her
stomach flutter at the sight of him. A thin line of hair ran below his belly and disappeared into his trousers, invoking unholy curiosity.

He smiled at her stunned expression. “I, ah, take it that you have never seen a man's bare chest before?”

“Aside from a glimpse of yours the first time I came here, only pictures and statues,” she whispered, longing to touch him, to see if he was smooth and hard as he looked. “Were things so different back in… your time?”

He nodded. “Oh, yes.” He looked down at her trembling hands. “You may touch me if you like.”

Her cheeks heated. “Would you mind?”

“I would like it very much,” he whispered roughly.

Cautiously, she placed one hand on his chest, noting his quick intake of breath as his nipples hardened. She grew braver, running both hands across the planes and ridges of his muscles, her pulse rising in excitement at her explorations. His skin felt like rough satin over steel and the urge to get closer to him was overpowering.

Angelica was mesmerized. Surely her mother was cracked. This was better than chocolate. “Am I ‘giving you pleasure,' Your Grace?”

“Yes.” His voice was a low growl and his eyes glowed faintly in the candlelight.

An age-old feeling of feminine power rushed over her at his response. “Do you want to touch me as well?”

He nodded and gently unlaced her nightgown. As he slid the garment down to expose her breasts, she resisted the urge to cover herself, knowing he must enjoy the sight of her body as much as she enjoyed his. For a long time, he merely stared at her as if she were a priceless treasure. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered.

His hands slowly ran along the undersides of her breasts as if she were delicate as glass. Her nipples hardened under his featherlight caresses. When his fingers lightly squeezed her nipples, she cried out in surprised pleasure as muscles low in her body tightened and flickered with heat. “Am I giving
you
pleasure, my lady?”

“Yes!” Her voice came out harsh with need.

With a groan, he captured her lips, thrusting his tongue against hers and pulling her down to lie atop him. The feel of his bare chest against hers was so hot and intoxicating that she trembled. As their kissing grew more frantic, their caresses reached a fevered, wanton peak and she writhed against his hardness. Every nerve in her body seemed to lead to the secret place between her thighs until it was throbbing with pulsing need.

He rolled her over onto her back, and as she felt the cool softness of rose petals under her buttocks, she fully realized her nakedness. When he lifted his body from hers, she gasped and covered herself, cheeks flushing.

“Please, do not hide your beauty from me, Angel,” Ian said as he unfastened his trousers.

Reluctantly, she moved her hands, gazing up at him in a mixture of trepidation and fascination as he removed the rest of his clothes. His legs were long, muscled, and lean. Dark hair grew from the juncture of his thighs, framing a long, thick rod that was nothing like those of the nude male statues and paintings she'd seen. It was huge and frightening.

Terror washed over her as he returned to the bed. Unconsciously, she tried to scoot away from him.

Ian's gaze was intent, but his gentle tone remained. “Do not be afraid, Angelica. All men are made thus.”

“
All
men?
” she squeaked, eyes wide at his size.

He smirked and glanced down. “Well, perhaps not
all
men.”

She couldn't take her eyes off him. Tentatively, she reached out and took hold of it with only her fingertips. Ian sucked in a sharp breath and his rod seemed to shudder in her delicate grip. The shaft felt like molten satin, and as she moved her hand up to the head, she found that it felt like velvet. Shyly, she explored the curves and ridges of his manhood, marveling that something could feel so hard and so soft at the same time.

“May I touch you, Angel?” Ian whispered.

At her nod, his hand reached down, and before she knew it, his fingers delved into the damp curls between her legs. She whimpered in protest.

“Relax, Angel, and trust me,” he whispered; his lips caressed her earlobe.

She sighed and obeyed, gasping in pleasure as his fingers caressed her silken folds and his thumb flicked across her tiny bud like a tongue of flame. Her hand gripped his shaft tighter, and she stroked it in her distraction. He took her hand away and guided it to his chest, where she could feel his pounding heart. “Easy, love. I will not last if you keep that up.”

Before Angelica could decipher that cryptic statement, he was leaning over her, thrusting a finger inside her as his lips and teeth nibbled her neck, fangs grazing lightly across her flesh, leaving her quivering in ecstasy. The heady smell of rose petals blended with his spicy masculine scent and enveloped her in a spell of sensuality. Soon she was slick with need, her core aching for fulfillment. Angelica arched her hips with a helpless moan. As if that were the moment he anticipated, Ian positioned himself between her thighs.

“It is best if I dispense with this part quickly,” he whispered hoarsely. “I am sorry to cause you pain, Angel.”

With that, he drove into her with one powerful thrust. She gasped and bit his shoulder, eyes squeezing shut at the tearing sensation. Then he was kissing her tenderly, whispering love words to her, as he remained still within her.

“Is it done?” she asked as he kissed the tears from her cheeks.

Ian nodded, eyes full of compassion and regret. “Yes. It will never feel like that again, I promise.”

“Oh, good.” She moved as if to push him away.

His warm laughter reverberated through her body. “I meant that the painful part is done. We have only begun.”

“We
have
?” she asked in dismay.

He chuckled lightly then groaned as she shifted beneath him. “Now I will leave you in control. Move against me when you feel so inclined.” His lips at her ear made her tingle.

She lay still below him as he kissed her. She felt so strange, so stretched and full with him inside her. The sharp pain had already faded to a dull ache, but she was afraid the discomfort would return if she moved. She lost the battle as he began to kiss her neck, unable to refrain from writhing beneath him as her nerve endings seemed to come alive with a will and demands of their own.

Heat flared through her from the place where they were joined. Each move she made seemed to fan the flames and soon her core began to throb around his length. She wiggled her hips experimentally, gratified to hear Ian's gasp of pleasure. “That's it, Angel.”

She arched up against him and moaned at the new sensations of pleasure. Soon, his thrusts joined hers, matching her rhythm. An insistent pulsating tremor washed over her, growing and growing in intensity each time he plunged deeper.

“Let it happen, Angel,” he whispered. “Let it happen.”

The pleasure rose to a crest, and time ceased to exist as she exploded in a million particles of light and flame. As she gasped for breath she chanced a look at him. The hunger in his eyes was as unmistakable as his partially bared fangs. She answered the question he didn't dare ask. “You may if you'd like.”

With a low growl, he bit her neck and she gasped, awash with ecstasy as the vampire fed. His growl deepened as he clenched her tightly and his shaft began to spasm hotly within her. The sensation of his mouth sucking at her throat while his length pulsated inside her flesh brought another climax. Angelica trembled with mind-bending ecstasy, feeling his heart pound against hers for what seemed a glorious eternity before he withdrew his fangs and spoke.

“Are you all right, Angel?” he asked, gasping for breath.

For a minute she couldn't speak, still overcome with passion and his delicious weight atop her. “If I had known it would be like this,” she panted, “I would have insisted you marry me the very night of the Cavendish ball!”

He grinned and kissed her. “The experience will be even better next time.” He frowned at the puncture wound at her throat and bit his lower lip, drawing blood.

A pang of alarm struck her at the sight of Ian hurting himself. “What are you doing?”

He pressed his lips against her neck. “Healing your wound with my blood,” he whispered.

The wound began to tingle. She brought a cautious finger to her neck and felt smooth unblemished skin. “So that is how you did it before.”

“Yes.” As he gathered her into his arms, she saw that his lip no longer bled.

“You are amazing,” Angelica breathed, wincing at the rawness of her throat and wondering how many had heard her cries of pain, then passion.
Everyone
knows
what
we
did
. Yet somehow she couldn't muster more than a kernel of embarrassment, especially when she was so desperately thirsty. She sat up and reached for the bucket holding a bottle of champagne in ice from the icehouse on the manor's grounds.