Her eyes widened slightly in quiet acknowledgement of what that meant. Rather than question him though, she gave a nod to convey her support.
Pleasure spilled through him. He sent her a smile. “The hour grows late. I think we ought to retire.”
Confusion showed in the slight puckering of skin at the bridge of her nose. She glanced at the clock. “It’s not even seven. Dinner has yet to be served, besides which I thought we might get to work on creating a list of thosewho were present at Orendel House the night Lady Eleanor was killed.”
“I’ve already done so. You may review the names tomorrow.” Angling his head, he gave her a thoughtful look before asking, “Are you actually hungry or can dinner wait?”
“Why? What do you have in mind?” When he said nothing, she sighed as if in surrender. “It can easily wait.”
He rounded the desk and extended his hand. “In that case, I’d like for us to have our wedding night. It’s long overdue, don’t you think?”
9
Trepidation accompanied the light flutter that spread through Samantha’s stomach. Her pulse gave a nervous jolt when Adrian’s hand clasped hers. Mouth dry, she forced her feet into motion and allowed him to lead her upstairs.
There was no sense in being surprised or anxious. Not when she’d thought about this moment and how it might play out numerous times, long before he’d even proposed, when the simplest way for her to acquire the information she’d needed had been through seduction.
And then they’d married, leaving no doubt about what would transpire between them. Only for the inevitable to be postponed, first because of the wound she’d sustained when Newton shot her, and later by the damage caused to her marriage when Adrian realized she’d been plotting against him.
Considering how long she’d had to adjust to the expectations a husband would have of his wife, she ought to feel more prepared than she did. But the truth was she’d never felt more out of her depth.
Her breath quivered as she followed Adrian into their bedchamber. After the conflict they’d had, it was especially important that this experience be a positive one for Adrian. Somehow, she’d have to get past her racing pulse and inhibitions.
So she thought of Mrs. Butler, the brothel owner who’d told her about the ins and outs of bedsport at Harlowe’s request. There wasn’t much to the basics, the seasoned bawd had informed her. Most important was conveying confidence and eagerness, even if it had to be feigned. No man wanted a lover who hid beneath the bedsheets.
Suppressing a sigh, Samantha pushed the bedchamber door shut, then turned the key in the lock. A shiver raced down her spine, but rather than submit to the edginess it encouraged, she squared her shoulders and raised her chin with quiet determination.
When she glanced at Adrian, wicked intent stared back at her from within his dark gaze. Her breath caught, a flicker of heat ignited beneath her skin. Unmoving, he stood before her, waiting, assessing, possibly trying to figure out how to proceed.
It occurred to her then that this was new for them both, for although she was sure he’d bedded countless women before, he’d not bedded her. Never his wife. Perhaps the fact that she held this role would addmeaning to the next moments. She hoped so, for she knew in her heart that her own world was going to change.
Not daring to think extensively on this she closed the distance with Adrian, her arms circling his neck as she leaned in and kissed him. Soft and tender, a gradual reacquainting that stirred deep sensations, luring desire and need to the surface until they were both gasping for air.
What started as an almost hesitant acclimation, turned increasingly heated with each scorching touch. Questing fingers explored, pulling at fabric, searching for additional access.
Samantha’s gown vanished, tossed aside along with Adrian’s jacket. Air kissed her skin as the rest of her clothes were removed, the self-awareness she’d thought she’d experience, completely non-existent.
If anything, Adrian’s expression, the lust burning in his dark eyes as he stood before her drinking her in, was so damn intoxicating she scarcely recalled her own name. Air hissed between his teeth, the throaty growl that followed, a primal sound filled with promise.
His palm settled against her hip, one callused finger drawing small circles against her flesh, those mesmerizing eyes of his daring her to make the next move. She leaned into his strength, hands fisting his shirt, pulling him closer, forcing his mouth back to hers.
One second, her tiptoes dug into the carpet, the next, her legs wrapped around his waist as he scooped her into his arms. She knew what came next and shewanted it now, wanted him so thoroughly she wondered at the doubt that had gripped her just moments before.
Holding her to him, he walked to the edge of the bed while her fingers undid his cravat. The knot was loosened, the long strip of pristine white linen unwound to reveal the base of his throat.
Unable to resist, she flicked her tongue against the spot, felt his hands close more firmly around her. And then she was being lowered, gently positioned upon the mattress with him between her thighs.
He braced himself on his forearm as if taking care not to crush her. His breath caressed her cheek as he trailed one finger down her middle.
Samantha gasped, her splayed hands frantically gripping the coverlet in an attempt to keep from writhing. Adrian’s low chuckle of appreciation swept over her body.
Stillness followed and then he withdrew, the mattress rolling slightly in response to the shift in weight. He stood, staring down at her with delight for a couple of heartbeats before sweeping his shirt over his head.
It was her turn to stare in response to the rippling bands of muscle that came into view, illuminated by a nearby oil lamp. She propped herself on her elbows, determined to get a better look, her mouth going dry when he pulled off his trousers and smalls.
She swallowed hard, heels pressing into the mattressas she allowed her gaze to traverse his body, to fully appreciate every piece of perfection.
By all that was holy, this man would put all Greek statues to shame. And she, lucky devil, would have the pleasure of touching every inch of his glorious body.
