Chapter Nine
Grace shivered, but not from the cold.
Perry had loosely re-tied the laces on her gown, and together they walked from the ballroom, through the hall, and up the stairs.
They could have been walking over the moon for all Grace knew, since her attention was on the man beside her, not on where they were. She’d made the decision, she’d said yes to his question.
Yes to his desire, and yes to her own.
For this one night, this almost-Christmas eve, she would give herself the gift of passion, knowing now that Perry was the only man with whom she could share those intimacies she’d set aside so long ago. In truth, she’d never imagined half of what Perry had given her so far; her first marriage had been loving and affectionate at the beginning, but neither bride nor groom had any way of knowing the heights to which the body could rise. Perhaps that came with maturity.
All she knew was that they were walking along the upstairs corridor to a room in a house that didn’t belong to either of them, where it would probably be chilly and dark, and where they would create their own warmth. Their own fire.
She couldn’t wait, and another tremor rippled over her skin.
“Cold, love?” His arm came around her shoulders and he pulled her close.
“A little.” How could she tell him of her need for his touch? How forward he would think her if she demanded he remove his clothes immediately and thrust himself inside her without further ado.
She felt the moisture dappling her thighs and knew her body yearned as much as her mind.
As if by unspoken agreement, they walked to the room at the far end of the hallway, pushing the door open and finding a few candles already lit.
“Bless Edward. That lad deserves a few extra guineas,” approved Perry.
Grace nodded, but shivered all the same. “There’s a chill, but I suppose we don’t dare light a fire.”
“Until the chimney has been verified as sound, no. I’m afraid not.” He turned to her. “But we’ll make our own fire.” He ran his hands up and down her arms. “Turn around and let me help you out of your gown.”
She shifted, unwilling to waste time in the cold air, longing for the chance to heat her cool skin with Perry’s warmth. Her dress fell away and she loosened the sleeves, stepping out of it as she heard him toss his jacket and boots to one side.
Clad only in her chemise, she hurriedly pulled the pins from her hair, ran her fingers through it and then tiptoed over cold floorboards to the bedside, turning back the blanket.
The scent of lavender assailed her nose and she sighed with relief. “The linens are fresh.”
“Good. Get in and warm them for me.” He chuckled, slipping off his breeches.
Grace gulped as he stood nude by the bed, illuminated by the flickering candlelight. What a splendid man he was, his muscles well defined, a smattering of hair on his chest with one or two silver threads gleaming amongst the dark whorls.
He was no lazy dilettante although he might foster that image. No, this was a man who liked to walk and ride and keep active. He’d not have the body she was staring at if he sat at his desk all the time.
And of course her eyes drifted down as he neatly folded his breeches, giving her a good look at what hung between his legs.
The shiver this time was of anticipation. Hard and thick, his cock sprang from a nest of curls, his sac firm beneath. She looked up and met his gaze—he’d been watching her as she took stock of him. It was a strangely erotic moment and she licked her lips, seeing him take a breath in response.
He grinned as he slipped in beside her, making a dent in the mattress with his weight. She squawked as she rolled right into him.
“God, Grace.” He gathered her to him. “Yes, it’s damn cold, but take that bit of flimsy off. I want you naked. Now.”
Obligingly, she slithered out of her chemise, pulling the linens and the thick quilt all the way to her chin.
“That’s so much better, don’t you think?”
His arm was over her, his thigh resting on her hip, his cock hard against her softness. Yes, it was better, and she nodded, amazed at how natural it seemed to be nude with a man for the first time in years. They were snuggled together in a nest of blankets, their bodies warming each other, touching, caressing, intertwining as they began the dance that would lead to ecstasy.
When his hands stroked—her arms, her shoulders, her back all the way down to her buttocks—the chill of the room vanished as his touch seared her sensitive skin.
“Perry,” she sighed, moving even closer. “You make me want things, things I never imagined wanting at this stage of my life.”
