Three Proposals And A Scandal Part 13

Chapter Fourteen.

Their wedding made it more difficult for Elias to enjoy a quiet minute with his new wife than courtship ever had. He'd hardly shared a private word with Marianne since returning from London late last night. By the time he entered the bedroom Sidonie and Jonas had a.s.signed them, he was ready to explode with frustration.

That morning, he and Marianne had been married in Barstowe's chapel. She'd chosen a pretty sky-blue gown, and Jonas had stood up in her absent father's place. They'd returned to Ferney in brilliant sunshine for a spectacular breakfast. All day, happy people had surrounded the bride and groom. Happy people he cared about, but the company had soon lost its charm when all he wanted was to have his wife to himself.

Then he saw Marianne standing by the fire and she smiled with a welcome he'd waited his entire life to find. The day's minor vexations melted away like snow in the summer sun.

"You're so lovely," he said in a hushed voice. "I don't deserve you."

A gold and vermillion dressing gown covered his nakedness. Given how edgy he felt, he wasn't sure this was the wisest choice of clothing. Perhaps he should have pulled on a suit of armor.

She extended one slender hand in his direction. He was disgustingly pleased and proprietorial to catch the glint of her wedding band on the fourth finger. "I thought they'd never leave us. I've longed to be alone with you all day."

Much as he relished it, he didn't immediately accept her invitation. Instead he lingered to savor the moment, to etch it into his memory. He'd spent so long convinced she'd never marry him. This occasion needed its full due. When he was old, he'd remember the night he claimed Marianne Seaton as his. And he'd know that his life had been worthwhile.

His stumbling praise of her beauty had been inadequate. His wife looked like a G.o.ddess or a sensual angel. Her white satin nightdress clung to her luscious curves. The sleeve dipped back from her outstretched forearm, revealing the pale perfect skin and graceful wrist. Her l.u.s.trous hair, rich mink, flowed down her back.

She was the answer to every erotic fantasy. She looked pure and untouched, a pearl. He swallowed to shift the emotion crammed into his chest. He loved her so much.

He attempted to lighten the atmosphere. Tonight should be joyous, not weighted with past troubles. "Are you sure Sidonie isn't hiding behind the curtains? No Genevieve under the bed? No Nell lurking in the dressing room?"

Her lips quirked. "They all left ten minutes ago."

"What about Pen and Sophie?"

"Downstairs as far as I know."

"I don't want them pouncing when I kiss you," he said, although he was overwhelmed at the effort his friends had made to turn this hurried wedding into a celebration. Harry and Sophie, James and Nell, Cam and Pen had all traveled miles to attend the ceremony. Sidonie and Jonas, with Richard and Genevieve's help, had mounted a lavish party.

Marianne's blue eyes were deeper than the ocean. "I thought you were glad to see your brother and sister."

"I am." At last he crossed the room to take her hand. Satisfaction filled him at how readily her fingers curled around his. "But I've suffered nearly a week without you. Right now, my family can go to the devil. The whole world, with the exception of you, my darling, can go to the devil with them."

Amus.e.m.e.nt lit her eyes. He'd worried about her today, that she'd miss her father or shrink from the boisterous well-wishers. But he'd been beguiled and moved to watch her reserve disappear under the waves of open affection.

In London, he'd been outraged at the caricatures featuring a melting half-naked ice princess in the arms of an insipid blond nitwit. Now, he dismissed the world's clamor as meaningless noise. n.o.body who saw his bride tonight could doubt that she was anything but vital, generous woman. And a wife any man would be proud to call his own.

"We're alone now. If you lock the door, we'll stay that way."

"Excellent suggestion." He leaned in to kiss her. His circ.u.mspect peck during the ceremony had merely stoked raging hunger. Ever since that breathtaking interval in Jonas's music room a week ago, he'd burned.

Her lips were soft and parted sweetly to his, but he raised his head before the kiss deepened into pa.s.sion. He meant to be careful with her tonight, no matter how fiercely he wanted her.

"After I've kissed you."

Her eyes slowly opened. She looked gratifyingly dazed. "You just did."

"Again then."

This time he briefly slipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting her. When he turned away and crossed to turn the key, he nearly stumbled. She wasn't the only one knocked silly by their kisses.

When he turned back, she was at the sideboard pouring two brandies. He heard a clink as her unsteady hand b.u.mped the decanter against the rim of a gla.s.s.

"Is my gallant bride afraid?" he asked softly.

Ravishing color tinged her cheeks as she pa.s.sed him a gla.s.s. "No."

He tilted his eyebrows at her. "Really?"

She picked up her brandy. "Perhaps a little nervous. But that's not the same as afraid."

"Do you remember the night in the music room?" He took a sip, although he already felt intoxicated with the knowledge that this marvelous creature had consented to be his wife.

The pink in her cheeks intensified. "Of course."

He recognized that antic.i.p.ation sparked her jumpiness. "Tonight will be like that."

"What we did then was wonderful." Her voice lowered to seriousness. "That next night, I hoped we'd do it again. When I received that note asking me to go to the conservatory, I was sure you'd sent it."

He paused, gla.s.s halfway to his mouth. "The idea that you met Tranter willingly never crossed my mind."

He watched her tension ease as she sipped her brandy. "You trusted me more than I trusted you. I should have always known that you weren't a liar."

After his second-thank G.o.d, successful-proposal, they'd parted so abruptly that they needed to clarify some issues. He took her hand. It rested trembling in his grasp. His thumb brushed the gold ring, that tangible symbol of their triumph over the obstacles separating them.

"You were just a bit muddleheaded. And Cam's defection had hit your confidence. No wonder you feared I was a fortune hunter." Cam's defection and her father's subtle tyranny, convincing her that unless she was an obedient cipher, she had no value. But wisdom kept him silent on that subject. He wasn't nave enough to hope the scars Lord Baildon had inflicted had healed.

Mischief brightened her face. "Cam who?"

He laughed and slid his gla.s.s onto the sideboard. "Shall we proceed or do you need more Dutch courage, my love?"

Without shifting her concentration from him, she placed her gla.s.s next to his. "Am I your love?"

He regarded her, standing tall and proud for all her uncertainty. She was so brave. He'd noted that from the first. Fate had granted him a bride in a million. "I told you I loved you in London."

"And I was so awful to you."

He smiled. Astonishing how that wound no longer pained him, now that she was his. "You were rather cruel."

She frowned, although she must hear the teasing in his voice. "I'll make amends."

"You'd better."

"So am I still your love?" Shyly, her eyelashes fluttered down. "I...hope I am. Especially as you know I love you."

He raised her hand and kissed her knuckles. The gesture didn't begin to express the tenderness flooding him. "I've guarded those words like a talisman, darling. Don't you know I love you?"

"I'd like to be convinced."

He was relieved to note that with every second, she sounded more confident. "I fell in love with you at first sight, although it took me a while to recognize it. You wore blue at the Worthingtons' ball and I said to myself, 'That's the woman I'm going to marry.' Imagine my chagrin when I heard you were all but promised to what's-his-name, that duke fellow."

Her eyes shone with shy delight. "Truly?"

"Truly."

"How lovely." Her fingers tightened around his. "I fell in love with you last Christmas. I was horribly cast down to think you only cared about my fortune."

"Now you know better, don't you?"

Regret darkened her delicate features. "It's a pity I couldn't solve the Thorne family financial crisis. Given it's now my family, too."

Her allegiance pleased him. "We're not quite on our uppers, my darling. You can have a new gown now and again, and we won't have bread and jam for every meal."

She laughed. She always reacted with surprised pleasure when he mocked her. He suspected jokes had been rare in her father's solemn household.

"That's a mercy."

He sobered, wanting to set her mind at ease. "It may take a few years before I can drape you in diamonds, my love, but the Thorne fortunes have recently taken a turn for the better."

"I like that."

"The promise of diamonds?"

"No, the way you call me your love."

"You will always be my love. I fought an army of dragons to win my beautiful lady. I intend to spend the next fifty years enjoying the spoils of victory."

"I like to hear you call me beautiful, too."

He curled one hand around her supple waist. "You'll believe it before the night is done."

She slid her hand up his chest with a naturalness that made his heart crash into his ribs. "Show me."

"You're not afraid anymore?"

"Hearing you say you love me has done wonders."

"Well, let me say it again." The humor faded as he looked into her eyes and saw a devotion that would last a lifetime. "I love you, Marianne."

"And I love you, Elias," she said with equal weight. "Now kiss me before I go mad."

He laughed with an unfettered joy he couldn't remember feeling before. "With pleasure."

When his lips met hers, he was gentle. He was painfully aware that while he was ready to devour her in one mouthful, she was a virgin.

At least his intentions were pure. But she immediately opened and flicked her tongue across his lips in unabashed invitation. Her wholehearted cooperation made him desire's fool.

She murmured her appreciation of his swift response and curved her body into his. He pulled her nightgown up, only stopping the kiss long enough to tug it over her head and fling it aside. Her warm, silky hair cascaded around him as he returned to the kiss. His hands traced soft curves, b.r.e.a.s.t.s and waist and hips and b.u.t.tocks. All perfectly shaped for his delectation.

Heat spiked when she touched his chest through the red dressing gown. His heart slammed to a stop when those eager hands pushed the robe from his shoulders. As the garment crumpled to the floor, he basked in the heady friction of her bare skin against his.

He battled the haze in his mind and raised his head from where he kissed her neck. He wanted to stop and spend forever looking at her. He wanted to tumble her immediately onto the bed behind them. "Marianne, I'll shock you."

"I want you." She scattered a deluge of kisses over his chest. Her lips grazed one nipple, making him jolt.

She stretched up and kissed him with open-mouthed enthusiasm, her lovely b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressing into him. As the pebbled nipples brushed his skin, animal hunger took hold. He growled and swung her up into his arms. He placed her on the bed and kissed her with all the love in his heart. He couldn't get enough of that luscious mouth.

Caution insisted that he delay to explore the glorious bounty of her body. But she surged up with a cracked whimper that set his blood afire. When she raised her knees to frame his hips, restraint rushed away. Instead there was welcome and a need to possess that turned his brain to lava.

Seeking hands shaped her flesh, slipped between her legs to make her ready. She bucked and cried out sharply as his fingers slid into her sleek heat. He stroked her, but breathtakingly quickly, they'd both reached the point where this wasn't enough.

Tensing his thighs, he nudged against her. On a moan, her fingers dug into his shoulders. Smoothly and easily his body slid inside hers.

Through pa.s.sion's deafening clamor, he recalled her innocence. But she sobbed in desperation and pitched her hips to take him deeper. He couldn't fight her. He was lost to everything except primitive compulsion. He thrust into heavenly tightness and claimed her.

Through the roar in his ears, he heard Marianne's shocked gasp. Then he gasped himself when she sank her teeth into the curve of his shoulder. Pain flashed through him, adding an edge to the unearthly experience of joining with her.

"h.e.l.l and d.a.m.nation, what have I done?" he groaned, lifting his head and seeing her clearly for the first time since appet.i.te overmastered him. "Did I hurt you?"

The drive to move deeper pushed him to insanity. The way she clenched around him felt like paradise, while devils of self-recrimination scurried around his head, kicking and pinching. He should have been more careful with her.

"Marianne, say something," he said urgently. In the shadowy candlelight, he couldn't interpret her feelings as she lay staring up into his face. "For G.o.d's sake, if you want to scream at me, do it."

The fraught silence extended before, to his astonishment, she smiled. Her expression conveyed an exhilarating mixture of self-satisfaction and elation.

"You're mine." She trailed her hands along his shoulders and down his bare back like an explorer taking possession of a new land. "All mine."

"I've been yours since we met." He rose on his arms so he could see her. He felt her body adjust to the change. Sensation blasted him. And the urge to finish.

"I love that," she sighed. A flush marked her slanted cheekbones and her eyes were heavy with arousal. Before Elias could stop himself, he edged forward. She wriggled and seated him more firmly. She conquered every inch of him, body and soul.

"I love you. I can't bear to think I hurt you."

"You didn't." She paused. "Perhaps a little. At first."