The cool air tightened her bare skin, and her husband stepped forward, a low growl rumbling in his chest.
Had she been too forward? Eleanor said that Montague liked it when she removed her garments for him. Perhaps Charles haddifferent tastes.
Aware of his gaze on her, Olivia climbed into the bed. Then he unbuttoned his breeches. Heat prickled on her skin as he stepped out of them, and that part of him that she feared, but also yearned to see once more, sprang free, jutting proudly from the nest of thick, dark curls at the top of his thighs.
He picked up the solitary candle and raised his eyebrows in inquiry.
Darkness would lessen her shame at being so exposed to him. But what if he preferred the light? Eleanor said that some men liked to look at a woman’s body, and that she relished being looked at by Montague. But the sensations swirling throughout Olivia’s body and mind—the heat from Charles’s gaze and the shame as her wantonness—threatened to overcome her.
Then he blew sharply and extinguished the candle. A puff of smoke dissipated in the air, and a tiny orange glow at the tip of the wick reflected in his eyes before it disappeared.
Olivia exhaled, then her breath hitched as the bed shifted under his weight. He slipped under the bedsheet, and she suppressed a cry as their bodies touched. The raw, masculine scent of him filled the air and she inhaled, savoring his woody aroma. He cupped her face and coaxed her head around to face him, and she caught the faint glow of his eyes in the darkness.
He grew still. Did he not wish to continue? Had his valet spoken the truth and he found her repulsive? But then he brushed his mouth against hers. His lips were warm and soft, with the faint taste of spice. He let out a sigh, his warm breath caressing her skin.
Then she understood. He was waiting for her consent.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I-I want this.”
Gently, he rolled her onto her back, then climbed on top of her until they were chest to chest. A fizz of need rippled over her skin as he shifted position, and she focused on the delicious, unfathomablesensation until it centered on her breasts, where her nipples had hardened to painful points against his chest.
Sweet heaven, what was happening? Her skin burned as if it were on fire and a wicked heat bloomed between her thighs. She shifted her legs, and shame engulfed her as they grew slick with moisture.
Then she felt his length, as hard as steel, against her thigh. He placed a hand on her leg then teased her thighs open. But this time, she was ready. Conquering her embarrassment, she parted her legs for him, and he settled on top of her, as if he fitted there, the tip of him prodding against her center.
He grew still once more. She reached up and grasped his arms. His muscles, hard and toned, bulged with effort as he held his body up to prevent his weight from crushing her.
“Don’t stop. Please…Charles.”
As she whispered his name, he let out a deep sigh and sank inside her. He paused for a heartbeat, then thrust forward, and she bit her lip at the sharp nip of pain. He withdrew, slowly, then stilled once more, but she circled her arms around his neck, willing him to continue. With a low groan, he thrust inside her again. The pain lessened to a dull ache as he continued to move in and out, his breathing growing deeper and harsher. Then, with a sharp exhalation, he plunged into her, shuddering, and a rush of warmth flooded into her body. He clung to her, shaking, while his breathing subsided, then he withdrew.
Despite the soreness between her thighs, a sense of loss filled Olivia as looked up at him. Her eyes having grown accustomed to the dark, she saw his gaze fixed on her, brow furrowed with concern.
“I-is that… I mean—have we…?”
He nodded and sat up. Then he placed his hand against her cheek.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He shook his head, took her hand, and kissed it, brushing his lips over her knuckles. Then he climbed off the bed, pulled on his breeches, and padded over to the door. He opened it, paused for amoment to glance back at her, then slipped outside, closing it behind him.
The deed was done.
Eleanor had said that a woman’s first time could be painful, but with a man who loved her, it could also be immensely pleasurable. Yet though Olivia had caught a faint glimpse of distant pleasure from her body’s reaction, in the end, she had only felt pain.
Hadhetaken pleasure from it? Other than a few sharp exhalations, he’d given no sign.
Oh, Eleanor—if only I had you here to guide me!
Olivia rolled onto her side, swallowing her shame at the stickiness between her thighs. Sharp cramps jabbed at her stomach, and she curled her knees up, willing them to subside, then waited for sleep to come while the echo of her husband’s footsteps faded.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Charles had expectedhis wife to remain in her chamber the next day, but as he entered the breakfast room, his valet in tow, she was sitting at the end of the table, the morning sun forming a halo around her hair. She rose as he entered, but he gestured for her to sit.
Blushing, she turned her wide-eyed gaze toward John.
Charles raised his hands.Leave us.
