Wrapping his arm around hers, he turned to the guests. “Sadly, this is the point we say adieu. Please enjoy the rest of the afternoon at your pleasure.”
One of Bridget’s friends hugged her and he saw how she secretly pressed a small flat box into Bridget’s hand. “French letters, for the wedding night. He’ll know how to use them,” the lady whispered, and William could not hide his smirk.
Bridget’s face went vivid red. “Erm,merci, Ellie.”
He pretended to ignore the two but when the lady turned, he winked; unflappable, Lady Eleanor lifted her champagne to her lips.
With a final bow, he led Bridget out of the room, unsure how his new bride wanted things to proceed from there.
“Your chambers are already arranged if you wish to retire,” Wiliam said, motioning in the direction of her rooms.
He could swear he noticed a hint of disappointment cross her expression, before she said, “Erm… that’s all?”
Teasingly, he plucked the box from her hands, then twiddled it in the air. “Were you planning on putting these to use?”
She went fetching red again. “Perhaps.”
Caging her chin and cheek with finger and thumb, his mouth found hers, and he feltneedshiver through her. This embrace burned with a new intensity. He felt desire, not a boy’s fledgling ardor... but a man’s hunger, and every part of her responded.
Her lips parted to the thrust of his tongue, and her delicate, feminine flavor infused his senses. She tasted right, smelled right, felt right... she moaned as his lean length pressed into her stomach.
Inches from her mouth, he whispered, “I told you, if you want more, the decision is entirely yours. But for now, perhaps I should take some time to remind you of the rules we—”
“I am well aware of the rules,” Bridget interrupted him desperately. “I do not need to be reminded, but perhaps… we could bend them a little?”
William struggled to make sense of his emotions at that moment. They were a mixture of hesitation, lust, and insecurity, and he was unable to distinguish between them presently.
She asked…
Anticipation simmering, he paused, wondering where exactly he could draw the line. Bridget was no casual tumble; she was his wife, and this was their wedding night.
“Go inside,” he muttered. “Have a bath and change into something comfortable. I’ll be along presently.”
Her eyes dipped to the box, “What will you do with those?”
William pressed them into her hand, “Keep them for me.”
An hour later, Bridget found herself clad in another slip of silk, a peach nightgown, and a matching wrapper—more relics of her older life—and paced the room, wondering what William had planned for them.
When she had mentionedbending the rules,she had not given him any boundaries pertaining to those words and was now afraid of what she had thrust herself into.
The door opened and William stepped in, dressed in dark breeches, a black shirt, and over his arm was a cloak. Her eyes flickered to it questioningly, but he rested it over a chair.
Settling on a chaise, he reclined indolently. “Please, come here.”
Hesitant, she did as asked and paused before his knees. Leaning in, William skimmed his hands up her thighs, making gooseflesherupt over her skin, before he cupped the back of her knees and drew her forward. Taking the hint, she climbed over him, straddling his hips, her loose hair cascading around her face. As scandalous as it was, she didn’t feel ashamed.
“Do you want lessons in seduction, sweet one?” he asked, both hands traveling up her waist and holding her under her sternum. “I don’t think you need them; you are artlessly doing better than any courtesan.”
“Liar,” she laughed. “As someone who knowsfemale companionship, surely I am lacking.”
“Hardly,” his hands shifted, and his thumbs found her unfettered breasts. Bravely, she did not shy away, and when he caught her earlobe between his teeth, suckling it, Bridget grasped his shoulders, squirming.
Her breath hitched when his large hand squeezed her breasts, adept fingers finding the straining peak beneath the layers of fabric. He strummed her nipples, and stars flashed.
Doing it again, and again until the motions felt unending, Bridget felt pleasure strum through her body and her gaze grew cloudy, her spine arching, wordlessly begging for his caress. He kept an accompanying rhythm on her other breast, his fingers circling, pinching with just enough pressure to drive her mad with want.
“Wantonandwickedgirl,” he whispered wolfishly.
