“Are you all right?” Trick asked.
She nodded, swallowing hard.
“Sit,” he said, dropping onto the room’s only chair.
There was no other place to sit but the bed. A big bed, very big for a “cottage,” and especially big for this small chamber. Somehow yesterday that had failed to register. It was a plush feather bed, too, not straw or wool. The bed-hangings, of palest ice-blue silk, were free of fussy frills and looked very costly and eminently tasteful.
The counterpane had already been folded back. She gingerly pushed aside an embroidered coverlet and lowered herself to sit on smooth, luxurious sheets.
“Second thoughts?” Trick watched her avidly, a pained half-smile on his face. “I offered you a way out of the wedding,” he said on a sigh. “I can also offer you a way out of the wedding night.”
Sincere though it might be, she couldn’t help but notice the “offer” was uttered in a voice laced with frustration.
“I hope to sire an heir,” he added, “but it doesn’t have to be tonight. I know this has happened quickly.”
A tempting offer, indeed. But his eyes seemed to plead with her. And her own body was pleading as well, her heart still racing in response to his enthralling kisses.
She remained caught in that imploring gaze while he came forward and went down on a knee before her. Silently lifting her hand, he started working the clasp on the amber bracelet.
“It’s lovely.” She sighed, feeling tingles as his fingers brushed her wrist. “Was it really from you, then?”
“Aye.” Slowly he drew it off, hefting the weight in one hand. “It belonged to my grandmother, and her mother before her.”
“Then why doesn’t your mother have it now?”
“My father never considered her worthy.”
Worthy. Trick barely knew her, yet he consideredherworthy. She tried to wrap her mind around the significance of that, but found herself distracted when he raised her now-bare wrist and placed a warm kiss to the inside, where her blood ran near the surface.
The gesture seemed more intimate than a kiss on the mouth.
She shivered as he moved to set the amber bracelet on the night table. The little metallicclickmade her jump.
“Relax,” he said, returning to the chair.
But watching him remove his cravat and loosen the laces on his shirt, she felt anything but relaxed.
He removed his boots and stockings. “So…do you want out?”
She shook her head infinitesimally.
“I’ll play your maid, since she’s not here,” he said, moving to her with an easy smile. He knelt at her feet and pulled off her shoes. “Jane, yes?”
“Yes, Jane.”
He reached beneath her skirts, feeling for the ribbons that tied her garters. No man had ever touched her legs. “Trick, I—”
She broke off, because she didn’t know what to say. She had no cause to protest—he was her husband. And he’d offered her an out.
Twice.
“Does your maid not do this?”
“She does.” She felt a garter come loose, and his fingers traced down her legs, rolling the stocking off in a way that made little darts of pleasure shimmer through her. “But…with Jane it doesn’t feel like this,” she managed.
“I would hope not.” He raised a brow, making short work of the second garter, then held it up, all lace and satin ribbon. “A lovely little French confection, aye?”
“Madame Beaumont imports them. How did you know?”
