Tristan didn’t think he’d ever get tired of the taste of her. Her reaction to his every touch. Even her stubbornness was becoming endearing. Lady Sarah Marchmain was his wife, and all was right with the world.
Well, more or less. There was another letter he’d have to write tomorrow, and building plans to go over, but honestly, he couldn’t think of such trivialities right now. Real life outside this room could wait. His wife had invited him into her bed and he was going to make good use of his time and tongue.
It wasn’t long before she was thrashing beneath him, his mouth filled with her essence. He brought her to release several more times—he’d lost count. But if he didn’t enter her very shortly, counting to infinity would not stop him from spilling onto the bedclothes.
Tristan didn’t want to hurt her. He hadn’t ever taken a virgin before in his life—he knew now that though Linnet had been very young on their wedding night, she’d been wild and heedless before it.
Damn. He didn’t want to think of his first wife at a time like this—she had no power over him anymore. It was time he woke up from his self-imposed sexual slumber. He’d been celibate for years; he’d paid the price of his youthful folly. The glory and the guilt, all of it. He’d been given a second chance and he wasn’t going to waste it.
He wished he’d left some candles burning, but hadn’t wanted Sadie embarrassed or shy. Really, what had he been thinking? She was not in the least shy. Really somewhat brazen. Remember those trousers! He could watch her walk around in them until he was stone cold dead.
Plenty of life in him now. He kissed his way back up her body all the way to her lovely lips. She welcomed him with a hungry kiss, her good hand stroking the length of his back. This was good between them. Too damn good.
But they deserved it, didn’t they? Tristan believed his life was about to turn a corner.
He rose up on one arm and grasped his swollen cock with the other, feeling his way in the dark. Sadie angled up toward him, and he rubbed against her, coating himself with her wetness. So damn good.
He slid back and forth until she was as frantic for him to enter her as he was. In one slow thrust, he was surrounded by liquid heat. She was tight. Perfect. He wouldn’t last long, but it was just as well. Their first time need not be a marathon. There were many nights ahead.
“All right?” he asked, almost breathless.
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“Please.”
He strove to do what she needed, inserting his hand between them as his cock smoothed in and out. He drove ever deeper with each thrust, reveling in her response. She toppled into the timeless dance, hissing his name, rising to meet him. Tristan lost himself to exquisite, elusive sensation. No, not lost. He was found. Home.
He rubbed her clitoris until the hisses were helpless shouts as she bucked beneath him. He poured his heart into her as she clutched at him and cried out. Had it ever been like this before with anyone?
He thought not.
He collapsed and rolled her on top of him, where her hammering heart knocked against his. He kissed her damp brow, brushed away the tangled length of her beautiful hair. He wanted to say something, but his words were glued together in clumps behind his tingling lips.
She was quiet, too. So quiet for Sadie, who enjoyed having the final say. He held her tight, trying to catch his breath. Organize his thoughts. What next? He was afraid to ask her how she felt. Tristan knew she had climaxed several times, but that was purely physical. What was in her head at this moment?
Her bandaged hand lay on his shoulder, the rest of her soft and hot against him. He’d neglected her breasts, and made up for that now, causing her to shiver as he gently circled a nipple.
“You must stop,” she whimpered.
He did so instantly. “Why? Are you hurt?”
“I can’t stand...feeling so much.”
He tucked her closer. “Good feeling or bad feeling?”
“You should know the answer. Oh, Tristan. I never imagined such—” She waved her white bandaged hand between them.
“Neither did I.” It had never been quite like this.
“Really?”
There was a great deal of doubt in her voice. He kissed her forehead. “Really. You may find that extraordinary, but it’s true.”
“But you are old—” Sadie stopped, realizing the insult of her words.
He was only nine years older, but in terms of experience, he held some cards she had yet to see. “Ancient,” Tristan agreed. “Thirty. Decrepit. You have aged me since we first met, too, what with house fires and all the associated follies of the last few days. You believed you had been stuck with a man past his prime, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t mean old. Perhaps old-headed,” she conceded, not making her accusation much more palatable. He had been a stuffy stick with her for much of their acquaintance; no wonder she’d thought him dull.
Tristan lay back against the pillows. “Well, someone had to be the voice of reason here. You know my responsibilities.”
“Am I one of them now?”
Careful, Tris.
“You are much more important than a mere responsibility. Yes, I want to take care of you. But I want you to take care of me, too.”
“Like the oxen you talked about.”
Tristan laughed. “Exactly. Let’s be kind to each other and see where the journey leads.”
“Friends.”
Much more than that, he hoped. Was it possible? He’d been on his own path alone for so long, depending only upon himself.
He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Friends.”
Sadie snuggled into him. “I have never had a male friend before. Come to think of it, female friends are few and far between, too. Marchmain Castle is isolated, you know. And I wasn’t allowed to go to school.”
“Miss Mac,” Tristan recalled.
“She was not a friend of mine. She spied for my father.”
“I’m sure he was concerned for you,” he said, thinking no such thing.
“Not in the way he should have been. And the year I came out—the one season I had—was not...fun.”
“How so?”
“I was too tall. Too everything. I didn’t take.”
“They were idiots, all of them.”
“You wouldn’t have liked me either. I made sure of that.”
Tristan played with a long strand of her hair. “Why were you so set against marriage? I would think you would have seen it as an escape from your father. Didn’t you want to have your own household?”
“He made it clear he would pick my husband according to his needs. Debts. Consequence. And the candidates were not at all to my liking.” Sadie sighed. “I was engaged before Roddy, you know. Twice before. I am a scandal.”
Tristan had read her report thoroughly and knew exactly how she’d gotten unengaged from the hapless men her father conned. “I forbid you to get engaged to anyone else.”
He could see her smile in the waning firelight. “That sounds reasonable.”
“I am the voice of reason, as we’ve established. Are you tired, Sadie?”
She nodded. “A little.”
“Shall I leave you, or would you like me to stay?”
She was silent for a long stretch. “I don’t know. I’m not accustomed to sleeping next to anyone.”
“We’ve managed it before in the same bed.”
“But one of those nights I was shackled, if you recall.”
Oh, yes. He recalled. An image of her naked and bound before him was tempting beyond belief, but it was early days yet. Tristan had a feeling he’d have to do a whole lot of persuading to get her to agree to such a scenario. She was strong-willed, but Tristan didn’t want to break her, just gently bend her into a semblance of compliance.
He’d have his work cut out for him.