“We will host a ball in your honor once you return from your wedding trip,” Amelia said. She stood with Coventry’s protective arm around her waist. “How long do you expect to be gone?”
“At least until the scandals pertaining to Florian’s lineage and my extended stay in his home without chaperone have blown over,” Juliette replied.
“Huntley and I intend to use our influence to fight the scandal hanging over your heads,” Coventry said.
“As will I,” Lowell told his brother. “Between the lot of us, I have no doubt we will meet with success.”
“Thank you,” Florian said. “We’re extremely grateful for your help.”
Juliette glanced at him and met his gaze while reaching for his hand and giving it a tight squeeze. The only thing that mattered now was the future, the love they shared for each other, and the incredible support their family was willing to provide.
Later, when Florian and Juliette returned to the home they now shared, he felt like a green lad about to kiss a girl for the very first time. He was desperate to get it right. Having to inform his servants of his wedded state and accept their congratulations was actually a welcome distraction from the increased tightening of his nerves.
“You may take the rest of the evening off,” he told Baker, Jillian and Mrs. Croft. “We will manage on our own. But please be here tomorrow by noon as we plan on departing for the Lake District and may need your help packing.”
The servants readily agreed and quickly dispersed, leaving Florian and Juliette alone in the silence that followed. He glanced at her, eager to proceed with their wedding night but uncertain of where to begin since he did not wish to cause her unease or discomfort. And since he was the most experienced one of the pair, it fell to him to guide them both through this new experience, which added a surprising amount of pressure—more than he would ever have imagined. But he desperately wanted their first time together to be pleasant for her and unencumbered by shyness or fear.
With this in mind, he reached for her arm and linked it snuggly with his own before proceeding toward the stairs. “I have an excellent port for us to enjoy.” The sweet liquor would help calm them both. They climbed a few steps in silence before he dared ask, “Are you worried about the sexual act?”
She jerked her head around so she could stare up at him while they walked. Much to his relief, she shook her head. “No. I am familiar with the basics, and Gabriella was kind enough to offer some enlightenment while you took care of the special license. She assured me that it can be very pleasurable indeed as long as I relax and participate with enthusiasm.”
Coughing so he would not choke in response to that bit of blunt information, Florian made a mental note to thank his new sister-in-law later. “She is correct.”
He escorted his wife the rest of the way to his bedchamber and ushered her inside, watching as she took her time to survey the space. A four-poster bed draped with a dark blue canopy occupied the center. It was matched by a comfortable armchair that stood beside a low table in front of the fireplace. A tall armoire flanked the white wall next to the door while a solid chest of drawers and a washstand rested beneath the window looking out onto a small courtyard below.
“It is simple but elegant. No flourish.” Juliette turned to face him. “I like it a lot.”
It was silly how much that compliment pleased him. Abashed by it, he went to pour them both a glass of the port he’d mentioned earlier. “To our new life together as husband and wife.” He clinked his glass with hers and drank while she did the same.
“I should probably examine your wound,” he said while eyeing the piece of linen still wrapped around her neck.
When she nodded, he set his glass aside on the nightstand and reached for the fabric. A gentle tug and a bit of unraveling revealed a blotch of red smeared across her neck, but it was dry now and the graze itself was no longer bleeding.
“I’ll clean it a bit,” Florian murmured, his pulse so rapid it made the tips of his fingers tremble.
Grabbing the pitcher from his washstand, he poured a measure of water into the washbowl, located a clean handkerchief and wet one corner of it. He then returned to where Juliette stood and dabbed the handkerchief against her neck.
“There,” he said when no more traces of blood remained. Blowing out a shuddering breath, he put the handkerchief in his pocket, recalled it was wet and retrieved it again so he could hang it to dry.
Juliette surveyed his every move, which did nothing to ease the tension inside him.
“You seem... unmoored.” She placed her glass next to his and watched him with glittering eyes. “Is it possible you might be more nervous about our joining than I am?”
Her forwardness was both welcoming and admirable. “I believe I may well be. Making it perfect for you has put me in a state of uncommon apprehension.”
“Which must be disconcerting for a man who is otherwise accustomed to being confident, methodical, certain.” She moved toward him. “Stop worrying.” He must have looked dubious, for she suddenly gave him a very reassuring smile and said, “I want this, Florian. I want to be with you in this way and considering how we feel about each other can only ensure that—”
He didn’t let her finish, stealing the words she might have spoken with a kiss that instantly fueled his desire. She was stunning, self-assured, perfect in every way and the very personification of goodness itself. And she was kissing him back as though her life depended on it. Her arms were around his neck, her mouth moving in perfect concert with his, tasting and exploring with unrestrained fervor.
Hands on her waist to hold her steady, he walked her back until she came up against the bedpost. “Juliette.” He whispered her name against her lips and slid his hands upward, stroking her torso, the sides of her breasts, until little whimpers rose from her throat.
Still, she kissed him, arching her back to press herself closer. “Florian.” His name was a gasp, an elixir heightening each of his senses and strengthening his arousal.
“Turn around.” He deliberately infused the demand with the promise of pleasure and to his delight, felt her shiver beneath his touch.
She did as he bade without question, allowing him to unbutton her gown and draw it over her shoulders. It slid down her body to pool at her feet, followed swiftly by her stays and her shift. She stepped away from the clothes, removing her shoes in the process so all she was left with were her stockings.
Florian drew a shuddering breath while allowing himself the delicacy of perusing his wife’s nudity. He’d seen it before, of course, but that had been different. She’d been sick then, whereas now... Christ, the look she was giving him over her shoulder... A timid display of innocent lust so tempting he had no choice but to reach for her with unsteady hands and plant a row of kisses along the length of her spine.
