He returned to the berth, grasping at the nightgown still crumpled around her hips. She pushed at his wrists, but failed to stop him from sliding the material down and off her body. The faint scent of her juices reached his nostrils, and he took a deep breath, fighting for self-control.
“Do you trust me?” He could barely choke the words out as he fingered the moisture from her climax along her secret cleft, his desire so acute he feared he would go mad if she said no.
Instead she gave him a small, frightened nod that nearly melted his heart.
“Stay with me, sweet girl.” He whispered the words against her ear as he settled over her, parting her thighs to receive him fully. He rubbed his length against her engorged nub until she arched against him, arms locked around his waist.
God, her innocent response to his lovemaking gave him pleasure he had never imagined possible. He could not deny his own need any longer. Reaching between them, he guided himself into her, grimacing with the effort it took not to thrust himself ruthlessly into the tight channel.
Her face contorted. “Kieran, it burns. I don’t think I like this part at all.” She struggled in his arms, panicking.
He gentled her as best he could. “It will this first time, sweetheart. Shhh, it will hurt less if you relax, I promise. There, now, breathe slowly. Good girl, that’s right.”
She tried to comply. He felt her relax marginallyand inched in farther, only to feel her tense again. He sighed and lifted his head to look into her eyes.
“I’m afraid the best thing to do is get this bit over with quickly.”
Her voice caught. “Anything, please.”
He brushed a strand of hair out of her pain-filled eyes. “It’s just this once, darling, I swear it.”
Then, lifting himself slightly on his elbows, he thrust home, the glorious experience of sheathing himself in her hot moist body mitigated by her cry of agony.
He held her close, whispering to her how brave she was, how good she felt around him, as he waited for her to adjust to him. Kissing each firmly closed eye, he moved experimentally. When she did not cry out again, he asked her if it still hurt.
“The less you move, the less it hurts.” She gazed up at him anxiously. “Do you think you could refrain from making any large movements?”
“Yes, I can.” Her body clasped him so tightly, he knew it would not be long before he climaxed. Grasping her hips, he made small circular thrusts, rubbing against her mound. She rewarded him by flooding with moisture, allowing him to move more freely.
Within seconds, his pent-up climax burst. He ground against her over and over, burying his face in her shoulder as he exploded inside her.
Much later, after his heart had returned to normal and he had arisen long enough to blow out the lamp, he lay on his back and stared up at the top of the berth. Diantha slept soundly, curled up against hisside. He did not know what to make of the intensity of their lovemaking. He did know he would not be seeking out a mistress for the time being.
He frowned in the dark. He had assumed that after he consummated his marriage, he would conduct his life much as he always had, with the exception of having a hostess established in his house who would also produce the next generation of Rossburns. Had he just considered remaining faithful to his merchant-class wife?
No. No matter how she enticed him in bed, the fact remained that she lacked the intelligence and sophistication that he sought in his mistresses. He would enjoy the pleasure she offered until it palled. It always did. He had never so much as spent the night through with a woman and he was not about to start now.
Diantha nestled a little closer to him. Pulling the counterpane up higher on her chilled shoulder, he decided to stay a while longer.
Chapter 5
“Milady?”
Diantha started awake at the sound of Florette’s voice through the door. Groggily she wondered why the maid did not enter with her morning tea tray as usual. Then images of the previous night flooded her mind.
“Oh no!” Recalling her unclothed state, she flung the sheets aside, hunting for the flimsy nightdress. She raised her voice. “I’ll open the door directly.”
Locating the lacy garment at the foot of the berth, she got to her feet and pulled it over her head. Eschewing the nearly transparent wrapper that matched it, she grabbed a silk one instead, hastily shoving her arms into the sleeves.
Just as she grasped the door handle, she looked back at the bed where Kieran had introduced her to so many sensual delights the night before. Her eyes widened in horror at the splotch of blood clearly visible on the bottom sheet.
“Coming!” Darting to the bed, she flipped thebedclothes up over the telltale sign of last night’s activities. Anxiously looking over her shoulder, she scurried back to the door and swung it open, hoping she did not appear as flushed as she felt.
“That smells heavenly. Thank you, Florette.”
Diantha thought she noticed a quiver of amusement at the corner of the Frenchwoman’s lips, but was too flustered to pay close attention. Where was Kieran? Did gentlemen normally leave after conjugal relations?
“How is your ladyship feeling this morning?” Setting down the tray on a small stand with raised sides, the maid placed a lump of sugar in a porcelain teacup with a pair of tongs. After pouring the steaming liquid into it from a matching pot, she placed a thin slice of lemon into the cup and brought it, balanced on its saucer, to Diantha as she sat on the bed.
