Page 95 of A Symphony for the Earl

What if he had been disappointed in her inexperience; or worse, she had been too eager? Suddenly nervous, she sought to extricate herself from the covers as subtly as possible.

But he rolled over to his back, eyes still closed and inserted one long arm under her back, pulling her to his side.

“Where are you going, hmm?” His voice was still husky with sleep. “Stay by me, sweetheart.”

That sounded hopeful. Perhaps she hadn’t been too brazen. But then she imagined what might happen if they were found out. How could she ever explain her behavior?

“Richard, I’m not certain of the time. What if someone discovers me here?”

He groaned and draped a muscular forearm across his forehead. “Damn. Can’t we just escape to Gretna Green and not wait for the nuisance of a wedding?”

She had an image of Lady Amelia’s reaction after she had worked so hard to plan a wedding. What if she knew Fiona was lying in bed naked with her son? She blanched.

“You need not worry,” he soothed. “No one will come until morning, and not until I ring. My apartments are my own.”

He sat up, the sheet slipping from his hips. She tried not to stare at the blatant arousal jutting toward his stomach. It was a bit scandalous to lie unclothed next to him, conversing as though nothing was amiss. But he seemed completely at ease with his nakedness. Well, that part of him definitely wasn’t at ease.

His lip twitched as if he guessed her thoughts. “It’s a perfectly ordinary reaction, Acushla, when I wake to find my lovely soon-to-be-wedded naked beside me.”

She pointed to his erection. “There is nothing ordinary about that. I can’t believe you fit it inside me.”

His eyes lit with amusement. “I am glad you think me extraordinary,” he said gravely. “And I shall be happy to prove you wrong about fitting together again and again when we are married, my love.”

“Well, that would suit me fine, a ghrá.” She cocked her head, looking at him in admiration. “You are very handsome, you know, Richard…especially unclothed, and being older and such.” Hearing a choked laugh, she regarded her future husband with suspicion.

He lay on his side and propped himself up on one elbow, facing her. He raised an eyebrow. “Just how old do you think I am, Fiona?”

She sensed she was in dangerous territory. “Why don’t you just tell me and be done with it.”

Chuckling, he reached over to circle one coral nipple with his forefinger. “I will be thirty-three in November. Your skin is like fresh cream in the moonlight.”

The sensitive buds ruched, and a streak of fire traveled right to the apex of her legs, which, to her dismay, became damp. “I suppose that’s not terribly old,” she admitted, her mouth suddenly dry. “Richard, I’m serious. Someone might see me in the hallway if we wait any longer—not to mention finding us here. And my father…oh, by the grace of Saint Patrick…what shall we do about my father?”

“I believe it is still too early for anyone to be awake, and I shall convince your father to allow our marriage.” His hand traveled to the curve of her stomach and the ebony thatch of curls below. He traced the curve of her inner thighs, finding the intimate crease between leg and hip with a featherlight touch.

“Would it shock you if I confess how often I grew hard just thinking of this? Imagined fondling your truly exquisite breasts, and putting my mouth on your most secret place—just here?” He lightly touched her sex. “You were made for me, Fiona. Your lovely long legs and this ebony triangle hide the most delicate, perfumed flower, which blooms only for me.” He stroked her folds, then the bud between them. Her thighs trembled in response.

Slipping a finger inside her tight portal, he gently explored the passage. Richard slowly slid his forefinger out and brought it to his mouth, deliberately licking the moisture away. “You are delicious. Even this part of you carries that scent I can’t chase from my mind. Lilies of the valley? Lavender? I can’t wait to taste you again.”

Any thoughts of leaving had flown from her mind. “Richard,” she faltered, “I…”

“Yes, love? Would you like my consideration here?” He illustrated the question by leaning down to slide his finger across the cleft of her sex. “And here?”

Her legs parted of their own volition.

He shifted position and bent to her heated center. Richard’s clever tongue skittered over the folds of her sex. She held her breath, and when he stroked the aching center at last, she arched from the bed with a strangled moan. The sweet friction continued until she hovered on the edge of release.

Was he stopping? She tangled her fingers through his tousled hair and pulled his head downward, but he resisted. “How can you be so calm?” she demanded, frustrated by his control.

He lifted his head. Her heart skipped a beat; his blue-gray eyes smoldered.

“Anything you feel is returned a hundredfold, I promise.” Sliding his hands down her thighs, he lifted her legs. Instinctively, she wrapped them around his waist. It was about to happen. She closed her eyes in anticipation.

“Look at me, Fiona,” he murmured thickly. “I want to see your face as I enter you.”

He positioned himself over her, and the velvety tip of his erection touched her swollen bud. She quivered, moaning as he slowly slid into her tight portal. She waited for the pain, but there was none, only a sense of stretching and the exquisite fullness of his warm flesh inside her. And a deep sense of connection, as if they drew the same breath.

With a sharp intake of air, Richard pulled back slowly and thrust again, this time a bit farther. A bolt of pleasure vibrated throughout her entire body, and she pushed upward, seeking to take him even deeper.