She turned, leading her husband away. He let her, and she appreciated that he was not offended by her making a decisionfor them. It was a small victory that had Penwike sputtering, but she was not that naive. This was not the end.
Their carriage rides were either full of silence or tension. Tonight, they were learning toward tension. Victoria kept quiet, respecting Richard’s need for it. The adrenaline she felt during their second encounter with Penwike had simmered down.
As soon as they entered Hawksford House, she felt more of the difference between their public and private personas. In the comfort of their own home, Richard no longer waited for Mr. Hawthorne to take his coat, simply nodding at the butler.
“Get some rest, Hawthorne. We are fine. The rest of the servants can retire.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
The couple went upstairs, their steps in sync with each other. Victoria wondered why she did not have to second-guess her actions with him anymore. Her feelings were a different matter, though.
In her bedroom, the atmosphere became more heightened. Yes, she still felt protected by his presence, but the air and her shallow breathing gave way to a different feeling—something more primal.
Victoria stood, the anticipation growing stronger as she realized Richard was staring at her. He didn’t call for the maid to help her with her gown, or his valet to bring hot water to the tub. It looked like he could not wait to devour her.
“You were magnificent there,” he murmured. He was so close she could feel his warm breath. “You were a warrior. A lioness.”
She giggled at that. She was not used to people giving her compliments. Even her siblings often called her a hoyden when she was younger, affectionately, of course, but she was never expected to be a warrior like Marianne or a beauty like Elizabeth. She was not as much of an intellectual as Wilhelmina or an obedient and malleable talent like Daphne. She was the rebel, and perhaps, a lioness was an appropriate description. It was apt. She liked it.
“I learned from you, but you are a quieter warrior,” she praised back, smiling at him.
Her eyes squeezed shut when she felt him unravel her clothes one string of lace at a time. Her breath hitched at the agonizingly slow torture. Anticipation pooled in her lower belly. She was so focused on the sensations he was giving her that she was almost startled when she felt her dress fall to her feet.
Victoria shivered. She was now merely in her chemise, and Richard was tracing her shoulders with his thumb. How could he do that? He was not even touching her in her most sensitive places, but he was setting her skin on fire anyway.
His hands framed her face as if all he was interested in were her wide eyes and open lips, and not the body that was almost completely bare before him. Hunger was apparent in the way his eyes flared, and she wanted him just as badly. Her eyes followed his every movement as he stripped off his clothes and threw them to the floor. He had a magnificent body, one that sculptors would love to shape in any material. Plaster. Wood. Marble. He would still emerge as a god with hard muscles.
Even though Richard made certain to pleasure her as much as he could, the want kept building instead of waning; it must be because he still kept lovemaking out of reach. He had an iron control. He could kiss her all over with a heavy erection, but still not take her.
Each time, his passion was evident. Tonight, his tongue tangled with hers, tasting of sweet sherry instead of brandy. She almost giggled against his mouth, at the thought that he was thinking of doing this even as he chose his drink. He rested her on the chaise lounge instead of the bed, spreading her thighs to make room for his body.
Victoria reached for the hem of her chemise in an attempt to strip her clothes, but he stopped her gently with his hand. She was, to her horror, very much disappointed, and she could not even fix her face to look less so.
“I—I need your chemise on. I don’t know how else I can control myself,” he confessed.
His words made her blush. They also made her feel relieved that she was not alone in this. He wanted her too, so badly, but he had strong principles he abided by. She wanted to tell him that she didn’t care about the rules of decorum anymore, and that she’d always find ways to get what she wanted, and at that moment, she wanted him.
“All right,” she murmured, almost falling out of the moment.
However, his weight on her gave her a delicious pressure. He knew just what to do, his hands everywhere—the swell of her breasts and hips. He also knew how to tease, his hands staying away from the pulsing part between her legs.
“Please,” she begged, even though she didn’t know what she wanted him to do, when he couldn’t do what she craved the most.
He pulled down her chemise, enough to free one breast for his mouth. He pulled her nipple in and sucked. Why did he have to do this, make her burn in heat, but not consummate their marriage?
She rocked her hips against his erection, their bodies separated by her chemise. He rocked back, rubbing himself against her clit, letting her see stars beneath her eyelids as his tongue, teeth, and hard length gave her the invasion she needed—or at least close to what she needed.
He let her nipple go with a pop and pulled back to look at her with a blend of restraint and reverence that made her want to cry. He rested his forehead against hers as they both panted.
“Not yet,” he grunted out, “but soon. I want you to be certain when it does happen. Your mind, heart, and body should be ready.”
Victoria wanted to scream that she was ready for anything now, but she wasn’t certain what a new baby would be like. She was not like her older siblings, who dreamed of children even when they were young. Instead, she wanted adventures. The struggles with Melody were still fresh in her mind.
But she did want a baby with Richard, that she was clear about now.
“I understand,” she whispered.
Then, he resumed assaulting her senses, one hand slipping under her chemise to caress her wet heat. He slipped a finger into her, moving in the familiar rhythm meant to give her release. His hips moved at the same rhythm, and their hearts pounded as one.
