*~~*~~*
James was experiencing an unaccustomed sensation as he walked Letitia up the stairs that night.
He had butterflies dancing an energetic waltz in his belly.
Beside him was the woman he’d yearned for since the day he met her, and ahead was a night of passion where she would be giving herself to him. The next few hours would be the culmination of his desires, but then what? How could he convince her that she was exactly where she should be—naked and beneath him.
How could he persuade her to cast aside her reservations about love? Was there any way he could show her what it meant to feel that deep emotion, to ache for the sound of a loved one’s voice, the touch of her hand, the smile in her eyes? How was he going to capture her, calm her fears and get her to agree to be his for the rest of their lives?
Sad truth was, he had no damn clue.
All he could do was hope that loving her to the best of his ability would do the trick. Which thought, of course, made him doubt that his loving would ever be sufficient, which led to other worries, and by the time he opened the door to his suite he was a mess of raging nerves.
Letitia, on the other hand, seemed quite calm by comparison, although he did notice her surreptitiously wiping her palms on her gown. She looked around as he led her inside his suite and closed the door behind them. He locked it as well, although it was probably an unnecessary precaution.
The fire was lit, a few candles burned around the room and she walked to the windows, as yet not covered by curtains.
“Oh look, James. It’s beginning to snow.”
He came up behind her and surrendered to the urge to touch her, sliding his arms around her slim waist. “I’m not surprised. It’s been threatening all afternoon.” Their reflections shone in the window glass, a tall man’s head above the white shoulders of a beautiful woman. “We look well together, love. Don’t you agree?” He slipped his hand higher, letting the warmth of it touch the curve of one breast.
She sighed. “We do indeed, James.” He felt her spine loosen as she leaned back against him.
One of his thumbs strayed to her nipple, teasing at it and rousing it to hardness beneath the covering of soft silk. “You respond to my touch so beautifully,” he whispered, nibbling at her neck as he spoke.
She shivered. “I like your touch. ’Tis most pleasant.”
Her eyes drifted closed—he watched her reflection as he cupped both breasts and began to fondle them, gently, slowly, watching the expressions as her brows drew together then relaxed as she sighed and leaned in to his hands.
He continued, nipping and then licking at her neck, her ear, tugging the lobe with his teeth and whispering how much he enjoyed this, her scent, the taste of her skin…justthere…and the weight of her breasts filling his hands to perfection. He intended for his words to be as seductive as his touches, hoping the combination would ease her concerns, relax her body and release her mind.
He squeezed both nipples as he dragged his teeth over her shoulder, watching the sleeve of her gown slip lower. He wanted to rip it off her, to stand her naked right where she was, and plunge his hands between her legs to see if she was wet and ready for him.
But he didn’t. Patience, he concluded, was one of the keys to Letitia, and he would exercise patience if it killed him. Given the rigidity of his cock, it might well do just that.
She shivered again.
“Time to step away from the window, love. It’s going to get cold here.”
She nodded, and turned to him, her eyelids heavy, her cheeks flushed. “All right.”
He took her hand and led her into his bedroom, where there were fewer candles, and a smaller fire. They would make their own warmth beneath the covers of the large four-poster bed that dominated the room.
Heavy curtains were drawn, imprisoning them in their own little world of desire. And James wouldn’t wish himself anywhere else at that moment for all the tea in China.
She looked uncertain as he removed his jacket, tossing it on a chair. He held out his hand. “Come here, love. Help me?”
With fingers suddenly turned clumsy, she unbuttoned his waistcoat, pushing it over his shoulders as he shook it away. Gaining in confidence, his cravat and shirt came next, and he didn’t miss the slight sound of wonder as she found his chest, pausing a moment with his shirt halfway down his elbows to run her palms over his skin.
He hadn’t expected the shot of desire that her touch incited. He wanted to howl as she delicately teased his nipples, turning the tables on him. “Is that pleasant for you, James? It certainly is for me.” She shot him a quick glance then helped him discard the shirt. “I like your chest.”
“Thank you,” he choked. “I like yours as well.”
He drew her close, her heat warming his bare skin like a burning log held high against him. And he kissed her, slowly at first as was his way. Tasting, appreciating, enjoying, then plunging in, his tongue darting around her mouth, in and out, mimicking the movements he would make later.
She moaned and started to raise her arms, but he caught them, holding them down, then slipping her gown from her shoulders. There would be tapes to unfasten, but for now this would suffice.
She pulled her arms in, as if helping him achieve his goal. He wanted her breasts naked, warm, abrading his chest. And within moments he had his wish.
