She kissed him then, deep and thorough, pouring all her love and joy and wonder into it. He kissed her back with equal fervour, his fingers tangling in her hair, pressing her body against his.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Aubrey fumbled behind him for the door handle.
"Inside," he said roughly. "Now."
Eleanor helped him into the room, closing and locking the door behind them.
He sat on the edge of the bed, drawing her between his legs.
"Your leg—" she started to say.
"Will be fine. Especially if you're the one doing most of the work."
Her neck flushed with understanding. "Aubrey—"
"I want you," he said simply. "All of you. Completely. Will you...?" He couldn't quite finish the question, suddenly uncertain despite everything they'd already shared.
"Yes." Eleanor's answer was immediate and certain. "Yes, I want that too."
Eleanor helped him out of his coat and waistcoat, her fingers trembling slightly as she worked the buttons. When she reached for his cravat, he caught her hand.
"Eleanor," he said softly. "Wait."
She looked up at him, her eyes bright. "What is it?"
"I need to ask you something." He cupped her face gently. "When you said you haven’t taken a lover... does that mean you've never...?"
Understanding dawned, and her cheeks heated. "I've never been with anyone. You're the only man I've ever wanted."
Aubrey's eyes darkened at her words. "Then we take this slowly. As slowly as you need."
"I'm not afraid," she whispered.
"I know, but I want your first time to be perfect. Or as perfect as I can make it." He kissed her forehead, then her cheeks, then finally her lips—soft and tender. "Let me take care of you."
Slowly, reverently, he began unfastening her gown, his fingers gentle on each hook and button. When the silk finally pooled at her feet, leaving her in her stays and chemise, he pressed a kiss to the smooth slope of her breast through the thin fabric.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured. "So damned beautiful."
He unlaced her stays with practiced hand, then drew her chemise over her head, baring her completely to his gaze. Eleanor made a small sound—part nervousness,part desire.
"Aubrey," she breathed.
"Lie down," he said, his voice rough. "Let me see you."
She climbed onto the bed, and he pulled off his cravat and his shirt over his head. He followed her onto the bed, watching her face as her gaze roamed over his bare chest.
He settled beside her; all his attention focused on his wife’s form.
He started with kisses—her mouth, her throat, her collarbone. Then lower, taking his time with her breasts, learning what made her gasp and arch. When his hand drifted down her stomach, she tensed slightly.
"All right?" he asked.
"Yes."
He stroked her through gentle touches, his fingers moving with the knowledge of a husband who had touched his wife before. She was responsive, her breath quickening, her hips beginning to move against his hand.
"That's it," he murmured against her breast. "Just feel. Don't think."
