“I must have?” Lucy echoed, surprised. “We didn’t even meet.”
“He said that based on the arrangements made by Victoria, he felt like he knew you. Take a look,” Daniel urged, passing her the wrapped present.
Although Lucy tried to be as calm as possible, she could not help but tear at the wrapper, revealing nothing else but a copy of Mary Wollstonecraft’sA Vindication of the Rights of Woman.
“Oh…”
“He does know you,” Daniel commented proudly. “He gifted you a book about female agency.”
“It is lovely! I wish he could come out of the shadows, too.”
“In time,” Daniel muttered, his eyes glazing over, probably wondering if it would ever happen.
Later, after dinner, the newlyweds finally made it to their bedchamber.
In fact, it was Daniel’s bedchamber. Lucy’s rooms stood adjacent. But it was their wedding night, after all.
“Why would I even need a separate room?” she wondered aloud.
Daniel chuckled. “It is the way it is.”
“We don’t have to follow tradition,” she remarked.
“Of course, we don’t have to,” he agreed.
Soon, Lucy had changed into a sheer nightgown with lace hems. It felt like a second skin, clinging to her dips and curves. She had never been this exposed in front of anybody except her lady’s maid. She felt a little cold and shy. Her dark hair hung down her back, the shiny strands curling at the end.
The door clicked shut, drawing her attention. Daniel had already discarded most of his outer clothes. He was wearing his trousers, but his muscular chest was bare.
He looked at her, his eyes darkening with hunger at the sight of her in her nightgown.
Then he walked toward her.
He moved like a prowling predator, slow and graceful. When he stopped before her, he reached up to wind her hair around his fingers. She trembled, not from fear, but from desire.
“I’ve waited for a long time, Lucy,” he groaned. “I thought I would never get the chance.”
“I am yours, Daniel, and you are mine,” she whispered, resting her hands on his hard chest. “Even when I hated you, I was still yours.”
Daniel groaned with pleasure. His restraint had snapped, she could tell, and she liked it that way.
He leaned down, claiming her lips in a kiss. It was rough and bruising. Her head tipped back as she tasted the wine on his tongue. It was intoxicating.Hewas intoxicating.
His hands roamed over her body, digging into soft flesh. He lifted her and wrapped her legs around his waist. Her corepulsed against his stomach, and she could not help but buck her hips, trying to find enough friction to quell the ache inside her.
Daniel pinned her back against the window. The coolness of the glass on her heated skin made her cry out.
“Please, Daniel,” she begged, clawing at his torso. She wanted to feel his hardness against her softness. Her nipples pebbled.
Daniel pulled back and tore her nightgown off her in one swift motion. Soon, it pooled at her feet. Triumph swelled in her chest at his reaction: his breath catching, his pupils dilating, his tongue licking his lower lip.
He watched her for what felt like a long time. Then, he touched her soft, creamy skin.
The line of her neck.
The slope of her collarbone.
The swell of her breasts. She whimpered when he grazed a nipple with his thumb.
