Page 39 of Lyon of Least Resistance

She closed her eyes and her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “N-no. Thank you, sir.”

Taking her hand, he drew her close.

“Might you do one thing for me, seeing as you pledged to obey me?”

He caught the flare of fear in her eyes before she nodded.

“Of course.”

“Would you call me James? And, perhaps, permit me to call you Cordelia?”

She blinked, and her eyes glistened with moisture. Then she nodded.

“As you wish.”

He tilted his head to one side and paused.

“James,” she added.

“That’s better.” He smiled, then, unable to resist the tug of need, lowered his mouth to hers.

Again, she stiffened, but as he pressed his lips softly onto hers, she began to relax.

“Shall we retire?” he whispered.

“Yes,” she replied. “Please.”

He unbuttoned his jacket and peeled it off, draping it over a chair, then stripped to the waist.

She began to unlace her gown.

“Would you like some privacy while you undress?” he said, gesturing to a screen in the corner fashioned from pale-yellow silk in a white frame.

“No, thank you, sir.”

So formal an address!

He continued to disrobe, then turned to see her standing in a thin chemise, the hem quivering as she trembled. His manhood was already beginning to harden with the prospect of claiming her, and she lowered her gaze to his groin. But rather than the fear he’d expected, he only saw sorrow in her eyes. A tear splashed onto her cheek.

“Be not afraid,” he said. “I promise I’ll be gentle. I have no wish to hurt you and will do my best not to.”

She bit her lip. Another tear rolled over her cheek and he lifted his hand to wipe it away. Then he took her face in his hands and kissed her on the cheek, flicking his tongue out to taste the salt of her tears.

Sweet heaven, how she trembled! Did he elicit such fear in her at the prospect of the marriage bed?

“I have no intention to force you if you’d rather not…”

His voice trailed away. What the devil was a man supposed to say to a terrified bride?

“I want to,” she whispered. “I—” Her voice caught, almost in a sob, and he traced the outline of her face with his fingertip, then placed his hand on her cheek, caressing her skin with his thumb.

How sweet she was! How innocent.

His beautiful bride.

She let out a whimper.

“Hush, my Cordelia,” he said, relishing her name on his lips. “You need not fear tonight. I only want to please you—as I want to spend the rest of my life pleasing you. Tonight is when we begin to get to know each other—to become friends and companions. Love will come, very soon. I know it.”