Under a waning moon, Mars led her through the back garden toward the house. The grass was thick beneath her slippers. Music from the party drifted behind them. The night air cooled her skin.
Belvoir stood tall and silent in front of them—almost as tall and silent as the man by her side.
She and Mars had worked well together today. She believed he was pleased with her firstperformance as lady of the manor. Of course, he’d helped. He’d been all she could have wished. He’d introduced her, staying by her side, quietly guiding her. Not once had she felt awkward.
Lilies, sweet herbs, and roses lined their path. In the darkness of a branching tree, a nightingale serenaded them. She trailed a step behind his, content to let him lead the way.
Mars opened a back door where there was no servant guarding it. She walked in. He followed, the door falling closed behind and they were in a hall’s darkness.
“Clarissa,” he said. She turned just was his arms came around her.
And then he kissed her. Here, in the shadowy privacy, where no one knew they were... and she leaned into him, her arms banding his waist. This was different from the kiss last night. It was hungry and hard and she reveled in it.
New impressions flooded her senses—the hard planes of his body against her softness, the heat building between them, the touch of his tongue and how kissing him was easier than breathing. She wanted to climb inside of him, to be one with him.
A low growl formed in his chest and before she realized what he was about, he swung her up in his arms. He began carrying her up the back stairs, their lips not separating until they reached a stairway door.
She felt him extend his hand to open thedoor but it was awkward with his arms full of her. She was the one who leaned to open it. They practically fell into the hall. Mars kicked the door shut and returned to kissing her. Candles flickered on the wall sconces but any servant left to guard them or answer the needs of the family had ducked away for a moment or wisely made himself scarce.
Clarissa expected him to turn to the left and carry her to the Green Room even though she didn’t want these kisses to end. Mars was making every bone in her body melt with the amazing things he could do with his tongue.
Instead, he turned right, in the direction of his set of rooms.
A portion of Clarissa’s brain was aware that she needed to stop kissing Mars and pay attention. It was not the portion in control of her faculties. And she told herself she was not against checking in on the baby. In fact, she fully intended to do so.
So, it only made sense that she keep kissing him until they reached the nursery and then, somehow, before she realized it, he’d walked past that door and into his quarters.
He shut the door behind him with a shoulder and started walking toward the turned-down bed.
A thousand clanging alarms started going off inside her. She’d been serious in her “terms” and, while she was fully involved in these kisses—especially after such a romantic day—she hadn’t lost her wits. She knew she must becareful with this man who was now her husband. It was well-known he did exactly as he wished.
But then, he began kissing her jawline, moving toward her ear, and Clarissa couldn’t think, let alone protest.
All she wanted was more of what he was doing. Every part of her being, from the very hard points of her breasts to the curling of her toes, was focused on what he was doing. A shoe dropped off her foot. She didn’t care.
And she wanted to do it back. She wanted his whiskered jaw beneath her lips—
Her rump landed on the bed... with her husband following.
He lifted himself to reclaim her lips, his hand going to her breast—
Her breast? His hand was onher breast.
And she liked it.It actually felt good there.
That was the frightening part. She was enjoying everything he was doing to her. Her senses swirled with the pleasure of it.
However, in another minute, he’d have her skirts up and all her good intentions toward maintaining her honor and her dignity would be destroyed.
The last thing she was willing to do was to become another plaything in the long line of the Earl of Marsden’s conquests.
The thought brought her to her senses and Clarissa, acting out of desperation, doubled her fist and gave this giant of a man she’d married as hard a blow as she could.
One would think she wouldn’t be strong enough to bring him in line, although Clarissa had put plenty of energy behind her blow. Fortunately, for her, she’d struck him right where he would notice, against the side of his head.
“Ouch,” he said, pulling back and rubbing the space between temple and ear.
Clarissa did not miss a beat. She rolled away from him, grabbing a pillow to hold protectively in front of her as she stood up on the mattress and confronted him. “This is not our agreement,” she accused.
