She said it with such conviction, he could not deny her. He kissed her fingers again, and then reluctantly withdrew his fingers from her hair, leaving her coiffure largely intact.
Instead, he took her hands in his, removing her touch from his mouth at last. “As it suits you,querida. Now come, if you please. Let us get some slumber. The morning will come all too soon.”
*
The morning alwaysseemed to come far too soon.
On a yawn, Catriona stretched her arms high above her head, her toes pointed. Dawn was beginning to lighten London, seeping through the heavy window dressings of her new chamber. Her bed was comfortable, the linens soft and expensive and scented delightfully of lavender.
And that was when the full realization hit her.
She was no longer at Hamilton House.
She was in the countess’s chamber at Riverford House. Because she was now the Countess of Rayne. Yesterday, her life had been forever altered. She had married Alessandro, and he had brought her here. Still stretching, she blinked as fuzzy remembrance returned to her.
He had brought her here. Introduced her to the domestics. Dined with her. He had taken her to the library, and…oh dear heavens.
The brandy.
Her entire body tensed at the same moment she realized she was not alone in her bed. A deep sound of contentment cut through the stillness of the air, and then a strong arm snaked about her waist, pulling her into a hard, hot, undeniably male body.
Her bottom was lodged soundly against something thick and long. Lips nuzzled her ear. A scorching wall of masculine chest pressed into her shoulders, searing her through the fine fabric of her night rail.
“Mmm,” he murmured contentedly.
Was he asleep?
What had happened last night?
She could recall nothing beyond brandy in the library, followed by pitching to the floor.Yes, she remembered that much. She had fallen, and he had rushed to her aid, dropping to his knees at her side. Had she dreamt his concern? Had she made a complete ninny of herself? Had she truly touched his mouth? And called himdarling?
A low groan of misery emerged from her.
Her husband had married her for the express purpose of securing an heir. And she had unburdened her foolish heart to him, just before falling face first into his Aubusson. She was never drinking brandy again.
What else had happened? Alessandro had dismissed her lady’s maid. Had he helped her to disrobe? Had he seen her naked?Good heavens, had she slept through the consummation? Had she lain still? Thought of the weather?
His hand moved, staying further thoughts, and suddenly, he was cupping her breast.
The mortification inside her dissipated. In its place was warmth. And sensation. A glorious, delicious sensation. His thumb grazed over her nipple, making it tighten and sending an answering pulse of something wicked between her thighs. His lips grazed her ear.
More of that, please.
He worked his thumb over her nipple again. The pulse turned into an ache. She forgot about her embarrassment, forgot to wonder what had happened the last night, forgot everything but him. He had touched her before, of course, but never so intimately. Her entire body felt as if it were aflame.
“Querida,” he murmured, his voice gruff and low from sleep. “You are awake?”
Would he stop touching her if she answered in the affirmative?
“I know you are not sleeping,” he pressed, then answered her silent question by giving her breast a gentle squeeze.
She liked his hands on her. “How did you know I was awake?” she forced herself to ask.
“You snore.” He kissed behind her ear.
Her breath caught. “I do not.”
“Yes, you do.” He caught her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, then tugged. “Though perhaps it was the brandy.”
