Meeting her gaze with a stiff nod, he made no effort to hide the moisture that gathered at the corners of his eyes. “Shall we?” He offered her his arm.
She happily accepted it and allowed him to lead her out of Huntley House and toward the future that awaited her at the church.
The ceremony had been briefer than she’d expected, not that she’d minded. When it had been completed, they’d enjoyed a lovely breakfast with friends and family in a private dining room at Rules. Everything had happened in a daze. Amelia could scarcely recall what she’d eaten besides the cake, which had been delicious. And then her husband had whisked her off with some half-hearted comment about being exhausted that no one had seemed to believe. The two of them were now heading toward Mivart’s Hotel on Brook Street, where Thomas had reserved a suite for their wedding night.
“Are you ready?” Thomas asked. He sat beside her in the ducal carriage—theirducal carriage.
“Very much so,” she assured him, catching his meaning.
“Has Gabriella spoken to you about... what you are to expect?”
She smiled in response to his obvious discomfort with the subject. “She did.”
He expelled a breath. “Good. I was concerned since you do not have a mother with whom to discuss such things. The last thing I want is to frighten you.”
Sensing he was as nervous as she was about what would soon transpire and touched by that thought, she shifted enough to allow for some eye contact. “You needn’t worry about that. If you recall, I did grow up surrounded by whores and their patrons, so I did have some idea of what goes on between men and women, even before Gabriella gave me the details and showed me a rather surprising book.”
His eyes widened a notch. “A book?”
“It contained some very colorful depictions of various positions along with descriptions.” She couldn’t help but grin in response to his shocked expression. “So perhaps it isIwho will teachyoua thing or two?”
Nostrils flaring, he attacked her with his mouth. It was really the only way to describe the plundering roughness of the kiss that followed. His hands moved over her, touching, feeling, caressing, until she squirmed with wanton discomfort.
“Four weeks,” he murmured against her ear. “Do you have any idea how hellish that time has been for me?”
She nodded while pleasure rolled through her, igniting a thirst that would not be denied. “Yes,” she confessed. “For it has been the same for me.”
He froze, his eyes locked with hers as the words sank in. The carriage rocked, and then his hand moved, lowering to the place where she needed him most, the firm touch replacing the ache with a rush of pure pleasure.
Leaning back against the squabs, she sighed with relief. “Yes.”
His eyes stayed on hers as he increased the pressure. “Tell me how you feel,” he said, taking her higher.
“Incredible,” she confessed on a rush of air.
His lips met hers for the briefest of seconds, then his breath blew softly against her cheek. “I have thought of you each night for as long as I can remember, Amelia, of how you will sound as you come apart in my arms.” Another kiss and another touch had her begging for him to continue. “I think it is time for me to find out.”
He pushed against her skirts while she arched into his hand, the pressure creating a frisson of heat that expanded and burst on a wave of spiraling bliss. She clutched him while tremors rolled through her, relishing every exquisite part of the moment.
He held her until they had ceased, replaced by a soothing calm. “You’re splendid,” he said as the carriage swayed to a halt. He was out the door and helping her down before she could blink, his haste to have her alone evident in his brisk stride. Five minutes later, they were shown into the suite he’d reserved.
The porter who’d helped with their bags departed, and the door clicked into place behind him. Amelia felt the first hint of nervous trepidation. “This is lovely,” she said, going to look out the window. She shouldn’t have mentioned that book or the fact that she knew a thing or two about lovemaking. Now he would likely expect some experience when she in fact had none.
“Perfect,” he murmured, coming up behind her.
She felt his hand on her hip right before his lips touched the side of her neck. Her exhalation of breath ruffled the gauzy curtains. “Thomas,” she chastised. “Someone might see.”
“If that is your concern, you had best come away from the window, wife, for I have no intention of waiting another second to make you mine.” A playful nibble on her earlobe made Amelia’s insides fizz with anticipation.
The nerves that had formed were chased away when he turned her in his arms and covered her mouth with his in a languid kiss that vanquished all thought. His hands slid along her sides while he deepened the kiss with increased urgency, then toward her back until she suddenly felt her gown slide off her shoulders. She’d no idea how he’d managed to unfasten all the buttons without her taking notice, and she really didn’t care, her body now clamoring for increased contact—for skin against skin—for the intimate touches they would soon share.
Tugging urgently at his jacket, she wrestled it off his shoulders. A sleeve caught on his arm and he laughed against her mouth—a momentary easing of tension while he helped her deposit the garment on the floor.
“Willful hoyden,” he murmured. He nipped at her shoulder while she tugged his shirt free, slipping her hands underneath.
Ahhh.
He felt divine, his back an unforgiving plane of solidity against the pressure of her fingers. Spreading them wide, she ran them toward his sides and felt his muscles ripple in response. Then up across his chest, pressing between them in a slow slide of exploration that forced a gruff sound from his throat.
