He shrugged. “Lucky guess.”
She wondered how many other French garters he’d removed over the years. He certainly seemed rather good at it.
Her second stocking came off in a whisper of silk, and he stood, bringing her up with him. He pressed his warm lips to her forehead, and she melted a little inside.
He gathered her close, resting his chin on her crown. “Your hair smells like lavender fields,leannan.”
His low, throaty voice went right through her. She’d wondered what being with a man was all about, and now she had a husband of her own.
Determined to calm her quivering nerves, to project an inner confidence she didn’t feel, she slipped her arms beneath his coat and leaned back to look up at him. “I thought that toast was the only Gaelic you knew.”
“Pardon?”
“What does that mean,leannan?”
“I…I’m not sure.” His brow creased. “It just slipped out. My mother used to call me that, I think.”
“Maybe it means ‘misbehaving young man.’”
His laughter filled the small chamber. “I think not.” Still smiling, he moved to detach her stomacher. “Does your maid do this?” He set it on a chest at the foot of the bed. “And this?” His long fingers loosened her laces.
“Yes,” she whispered, watching as he worked the gown over her shoulders and down to pool in a shimmer at her feet. The silver underskirt glistened in the firelight.
When…how had it been lit? Kendra wondered vaguely. But Trick’s hot mouth was on her neck, doing strange things to the pit of her stomach, and she couldn’t seem to think straight.
He lifted his head and gazed down at her. From her vantage point below him, she saw his eyes darken beneath the golden fringe. Then he stepped back, and his gaze traveled the length of her chemise-clad form.
In return, she boldly perused him. Or at least she tried. Unfortunately, the shirt, which did reach his knees, hung from beneath his velvet surcoat, quite effectively concealing him from her view.
She stepped from the folds of her gown to come forward and tug off his coat. The shirt went next, over his head to join the clothes on the floor. At the sight of his bare torso, her knees went weak.
A light sprinkling of blond hair glimmered in the firelight. She reached to touch him, her palms flat against his chest, caressing, learning the indentations, the sleekness of his skin over the tautness underneath, the springiness of the crisp golden curls. Her breath hitched when his muscles twitched beneath her questing fingers.
“Sweet Mary,” Trick breathed. “You’re no simpering miss now, are you? Are you sure you’ve never—”
“I’m sure.” Kendra’s cheeks heated. “It’s just…you feel…” She hid her flaming face against his chest, certain he would think her wanton.
But those thoughts didn’t stop her hands from continuing their exploration, moving around him to feel the hard, smooth planes of his back. His chest hair tickled her nose, and without thinking, her tongue flicked out to taste his skin, warm and just the tiniest bit salty. She licked again and inhaled his scent, sandalwood and Trick, musky and exciting.
“Goodness, I want to eat you up,” she whispered under her breath.
A low chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Be my guest.” His voice came rough as his hands moved to pull the pins from her hair. “This marriage seems more suitable by the minute. I never dreamed—what is this?” He jerked back, holding up a long red curl, his face registering utter disbelief.
“It’s a false curl. To make my hair plumper.”
“Plumper? Who the hell needs plump hair?”
He raked his fingers through her tresses, coming out with two more curls and…
“Wires? Why wires?”
“To make the curls stand out.” Kendra shifted on her feet, suddenly feeling like Medusa. She tugged her own hands through her hair, plucking out several more wires and three additional curls. “That’s six? I think that’s all.”
“Where do you get these? Wait—I’d rather not know.” He tossed the curls away in disgust and combed the tangles from her hair with his fingers. “Have you any more surprises for me, then? Is your pretty nose your own? Maybe some false hips are hiding beneath that lovely chemise?”
“No.” Her hands went to her hips. “These are mine. You don’t…they’re too wide, you think?”
“Nothing about you is wide.” He settled her hair over her shoulders, a curtain down her back. “Except perhaps your smile, and that hair, but we won’t be seeing that again now, will we? Or should I have thrown those curls into the fireplace?” He laughed as his hands covered hers, his thumbs tracing her hipbones. “Ah, the better to bear my children, aye?”
