Hazel woke as rays of light permeated the gritty seal of her lids. She blinked her eyes open, her vision blurry with sleep. Her cheek rested against the soft velvet of Garrett’s jacket. She was tempted to smile. She looked up, and he had his head tossed back against the squabs, his mouth open a little. His chest lifted and fell with slumberous breaths. She did smile. Her body ached, her hip felt numb, but they were alone and far away from the prying eyes of family.
She slipped out from under his arm and stretched. The tingly numbness stretched all the way down to her toes. She winced as she angled her head side to side to stretch her neck. The carriage was taking a narrow turn. She was caught off guard and flung her arms out to catch her balance. One hand landed on his thigh. She quickly snatched it away as his eyes popped open.
She watched as he blinked and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He looked adorable, not stoically handsome as he usually looked, but more inviting, more real.
“Where are we?”
She shrugged. “I have no idea.” She was smiling. She couldn’t help it.
He looked out the window. “Were home.”
As he said the words, the carriage turned in a half circle and came to a halt.
Hazel did her best to smooth her hair before the door was opened.
“Good morning, Cobb. Thank you for accommodating our sudden departure. Please take the rest of today and tomorrow off to rest.”
“Thank you, sir.” The driver bowed.
Hazel smiled her thanks as Garrett helped her down. The door opened and a butler appeared. Garrett pulled her up the portico steps.
“Hazel, may I present Quinn. Quinn, I am honored to introduce our new lady of the hall.
“We have joyously awaited your arrival, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Quinn.”
“Breakfast is not yet ready, but I can have tea momentarily.”
“That would be lovely,” Hazel answered.
“We will take breakfast in the master suite, Quinn, and perform introductions later today.”
“Yes, sir.”
Garrett escorted Hazel inside. They climbed the stairs to the master suite, and he held the door while she entered. She liked the way he referred to them as ‘we.’ She entered the room and looked around in awe. It was luxuriously outfitted in silks and velvets of cream and brown.
“If you want a bath, it will take time to heat the water.”
Hazel would have loved a bath, but her stomach demanded food first. “I think I shall eat first.”
She did a circle around the room, examining the table for private dining near terrace doors, a bookcase filled with books, a writing desk, the large fireplace and back around to the door. She completed her circle at the bed. The largest bed she’d ever seen. Cream velvet draped each post. Pillows stacked against each other almost to the middle. She raised an eyebrow. She was aware he had watched her entire inspection.
“The pillows are a nuisance. I always tell Smith to be rid of all but two, but they always find their way back. Would you like to see the Countesses suite?
“Oh…I had thought.”
“We will share a bed every night,” he said as he took her hand, “but you do have your own room if you choose to use it.” He opened a door that was disguised as a wall panel.
This room was entirely feminine, the furniture delicate in its carving and size. The primary color was deep purple, which Hazel liked, but not in such abundance. She would have thought the room had not been in use for years, but the writing desk and vanity looked as if someone frequently used both though they were impeccably neat.
“You may redecorate it as you wish. My aunt wanted it redone after my mother’s passing, but I wouldn’t have it. I spent many hours here reading with my mother or watching her maid as she did her hair.”
“Those are sweet memories,” Hazel murmured. She looked around, gently stroking the silk hangings on the bed post. “I should like to keep the furniture, but choose lighter drapery’s and bed hangings. If that is all right.” She turned to him. She didn’t want to take away from his mother’s memory.
“Of course. This room is yours now. She would want you to make it your own,” he assured.
Hazel nodded. There was a knock from the other room. They returned to the master suite and two footmen wheeled in a trolley of dishes and set the table.
“I eat in here often. I usually work late and eat late.”
Hazel took her seat at the table. A plate of eggs, bacon, toast, and fruit was set before her.
“This looks wonderful.”
Quinn poured her a cup of tea. “Will that be all, ma’am.”
“Her Lady wishes for a bath. Please warm the water while we dine.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hazel took a bite of her eggs as the staff departed.
Garrett hesitated. “I promise to give you all the privacy you need.”
Hazel smiled. “Thank you.” Though she hoped one day, they would have the intimacy of not needing such privacy from each other. Perhaps one day they would share the bath together.
“Is it a large tub?” she asked curiously.
He frowned in thought as he chewed and swallowed a bite of bacon. “It does the job, I suppose.”
“Would it fit…two people?” She couldn’t believe the words that left her tongue.
His hand paused as it was bringing his teacup to his mouth. He cleared his throat. “Two people? I’ve never wondered,” he said casually. However, his mind was rapidly busy creating fantasies of Hazel naked and soapy in the bath and inviting him in. The tub would not fit two comfortably, it barely fit him comfortably. But he was willing to try. Hell, he’d buy a bigger tub right this moment if she wished it.
“A woman of your stature will have no trouble taking a leisurely soak.”
“Oh. Good.”
He watched her take a sip of tea and another bite of her toast. They were quiet as they finished their breakfast. Footmen arrived with the tub, lit a fire for more warmth, and filled it with buckets of steaming water before leaving again. Garrett removed the plates to the trolley and pushed it outside the room. Hazel was still in her chair when he returned and looking out the terrace doors. The curtains were pulled back to let in the morning sun. He liked rooms filled with light. She looked lovely in the white hazy morning sunlit room. The sky was thick with clouds, the sun glowing behind them. The effect was a soft layering of sun rays over everything. It made her skin look impossibly soft and inviting. Her hair shined with golds and butter. He removed his jacket and tossed it on the floor.
It startled her. She turned to look at him, and then looked at the jacket on the floor. Her cheeks bloomed with pink.
His hands moved to his waistcoat and quickly undid the button. He’d forgone with a cravat for their midnight escape. The waistcoat joined the coat on the floor. Then he started with his cuffs.
Hazel stood. She swallowed the nervous lump in her throat. Her dress felt exceedingly tight. She wasn’t sure of her part so she began with her hair. He was looking down at his cuffs when she started to pull pins from her hair but looked up as it started to fall around her shoulders.
“Wait.” He froze.
Hazel stopped. Her hands still caught in her hair.
“I want to do it.”
She licked her dry lips. He finished rolling up his shirt sleeves and moved closer to her. Hazel let her arms fall to her sides. His fingers slid into her hair. She was afraid to meet his eyes, so she focused on his mouth. He removed the last of her pins and finger combed her hair, draping it over her shoulders.
“You don’t have a maid to tend your bath.”
Hazel nodded. Her mouth had gone dry.
“It would be my honor.”
He looked down at her. She could feel his eyes on her. She tentatively looked up at him.
“The water will be hot enough. I promise you won’t be cold. May I?”
She nodded again. She wasn’t sure what she agreed to. Her brain had ceased to function, her heart fluttered inside her like a hummingbird. His eyes beheld her with such clear intent it awed her. This man was her husband, and he fully intended to undress her, bathe her, and make love to her. She was certain she wanted those things, but it didn’t make the fear of the unknown any less. She was standing on a metaphorical cliff—the ledge her last virtues of innocence, the drop an abyss of her unknowable future.
He bent closer to her. They had kissed in the carriage. Sweet kisses, clinging kisses, until sleep had claimed them. She welcomed more kisses. They were familiar now. She closed her eyes as his lips touched hers. She was blocking out all else except the feel and scent of him. His lips tasted of bacon. Delicious.
She brought her hands around his neck as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. This was also a new adventure, being physically close. She liked it. His body was hard against hers, angled where she was rounded. His hands massaged her back, pulling at the buttons of her dress until they slipped their moors and he could slide his hands inside. Her dress became loose. He pulled the halves down over her shoulders.
She kissed him back fervently, liking the fissures of excitement his touch brought and the satisfying way her breasts pushed against his chest. She lowered her arms so her dress would fall to her waist and pulled her arms free. She was scared. She’d never bared herself to anyone before. There was also excitement humming in her veins. She tried to remember what Anabelle had said, but her thoughts were scattered. She felt the insistence of his mouth, his tongue making little licks as he angled his head. She opened her mouth, listening to her body, her perception of his growing. His tongue was not invading her mouth like a conquering king. Lucy had shared that secret with her their first season. Kisses involving tongues sounded unpleasant.
But this was far from unpleasant. It was a slow and intimate joining. His tongue reverently sought hers, slowly, softly, touching with gentle strokes. She couldn’t help but respond. His tongue was warm and velvety against hers. She answered each glide of his with her own, learning and discovering as she went. She brought her arms up around his neck again, pressing her mouth and chest to his.
Her body felt different. Her skin was sensitive to everything. It sparked emotions inside her of wanting, heated yearning. Was this desire? Lust?
He pushed her dress over her hips to the floor. She stepped out of it. They broke the kiss, and she couldn’t look away from him as he led her to the bath.
Hazel imagined them both sitting in the tub, presumably naked. A hot flush swept her.
“I can tell when you’re thinking naughty things.”
“What?” She turned to him in dismay.
“You always blush and your breathing becomes shallow and fast. Your eyes light up with excitement.”
Hazel stared at him. He could read her like a book.
“Don’t be embarrassed. I find it beautiful and encouraging.”
“Encouraging?”
“We are married now, Hazel. Our bodies belong to each other. Your arousal and passion fuel mine. There is nothing to be ashamed of now. You don’t have to hide your sensuality from me.”
She didn’t know what to say. She was only just discovering these feelings for herself. An errant thought entered her mind. Mrs. Danford’s words from the night before. She looked at Garrett.
Her husband.
She pushed that awful memory away. She wasn’t going to let anything come between them right now.
She pulled at the string cinching the neck of her chemise. Loosening the neck, she grabbed the hem and pulled it over her head. She looked up and caught his eyes as she let the fabric slip from her fingers to the floor. In his eyes, she could see some heady emotion. They dropped down, exploring over her body. Hazel had to look away. It was overwhelming to be the object of someone’s desire. She had no doubt he wanted her.
He took her hand and helped her into the tub. He was correct. It was comfortable for her size, but she didn’t want to be the only one vulnerably naked.
“Won’t you join me?”
He seemed a bit startled by the idea.
“I… all right.” He began to unbutton his shirt.
Hazel waited, keeping her gaze on her hands as they waved through the water but aware of his every movement. He sat on a stool next to the tub to remove his boots and stockings, and then stood to remove his pants.
“Scoot forward,” he said thickly.
She did without looking at him. Her skin felt like it was on fire.
He got in behind her, his legs stretching out on either side of her, his bent knee’s level with her shoulders. The tub wasn’t big enough. They would not be comfortable for long here. She tucked herself into a ball, too timid to touch any part of him though it was impossible not to. As he settled, he pulled her back between his legs. She could feel his rigid manhood against her back. She bit her lip and closed her eyes. She leaned back against his chest. She could feel a sparse covering of hair against her back. It intrigued her.
“We’ll definitely need a bigger tub if we make a habit of this.”
Hazel still couldn’t find words.
“Are you all right?” He tried to look at her face.
She nodded frantically. There was no use hiding it. She was mortified, curious, and a whole jumble of new emotions she couldn’t identify. She started to giggle.
“I sincerely hope that giggling is not a precursor to hysteria.”
“No.” She tried to breathe through her giggles.
“Good.”
Hazel finally regained control. She relaxed somewhat. She felt his hands in her hair.
“What are you doing?”
“Washing your hair. I didn’t realize how much of it you had.”
“My mother won’t let me cut it.”
“Do you wish to?”
Hazel shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. Half of me wants to do something daring, but the other half is terrified of straying from what I know to be familiar and safe.”
“If you want to be daring, you may be as daring as you wish with me. We are in a bath together. Some would consider that to be daring.”
Hazel knew exactly who.
“How shall I be daring?”
Her husband’s hands moved to her shoulders, slippery with soap as they rubbed at the tense muscles.
“I’m enjoying touching you. Perhaps you may enjoy touching me?”
Hazel looked down at his legs. She poked one with a fingertip. He chuckled behind her. She felt it more than she heard it. She grinned and relaxed against him a little more. She put her hand on his knee and slid it down to his ankle. His skin was slick and the hair was soft bristles against her hand. She’d never touched a male limb other than an arm and certainly not as naked as the day he was born.
Her fingers passed over the ripple of a scar on his shin. “What happened here?”
“I don’t remember. Mrs. Beasley, she’s our housekeeper whom you’ll be introduced later, said I fell down the stairs.”
“How awful!” Hazel rubbed the scar with her fingers.
“I’m sure it was at the time,” he quipped.
She set her hand on his other leg and began to explore. She liked it. Finally, she would have all her curiosities and questions about the male body answered. She tentatively stroked her hands above his knees, but her movement was too limited to go any higher than just above his knees.
His hands were moving, too. Cupping her shoulders, trailing hot water up and down her arms and, occasionally, they would drift over her collar bones and she would tense.
“Relax,” he whispered into her ear. She tried, but the more he touched her, the more her skin tickled with awareness of him. She was vibrantly aware of his arousal against her lower back like a hot brand to her skin. She stilled as his hands drifted lower over her upper breasts, teasing her senses. She was surprised to find that she wanted him to touch her breasts. She relaxed against him, her nerves on fire, but wanting to encourage him. She didn’t have to wait. As soon as she nestled back against him, his hands slipped into the water, cupping her.
She had to stop herself from squirming nervously. His thumbs brushed over her nipples, and it felt so wonderful, her skin erupted with goosebumps. Hazel didn’t know what to do with her hands so she picked up the soap ball and cloth and began to lather her arms.
“Here, let me.”
She handed him the soap and cloth.
“Lean forward.”
She did. He soaped her back. He pulled her back against him again and washed her front, spending lots of time on her breasts. Hazel giggled.
“Are you ticklish?”
“I didn’t think so.”
He moved to her stomach, gliding over the nervously taught planes of her abdomen. Hazel found herself unable to draw deep breaths as his hand moved lower. She felt herself tense, her skin coming alive under his hand, her nerves firing excitedly in new ways. He reached past her belly button. He then slowly circled back in a sweep across her upper midriff, then down his hand went further, touching her most private of places and the mysterious curls of her womanhood. Hazel held her breath. His fingers touched her mons gently, then searched deeper into her folds. She released a small exhale before sucking in much-needed air.
Her whole body tensed in anticipation, like it does right before one is doused in cold water. She was waiting for some startling emotion or significant sensation, but his fingers only explored softly, probing her softness, finding a delicate point in the hood of her sex and gently stroking. Hazel involuntarily squeezed her knees together.
“Relax,” he breathed in her ear.
But she couldn’t. The sensation was so foreign and acute, a tingling tickle that only demanded more once stimulated. She wanted to move, to sooth it herself, but she didn’t know how. Her hips twitched on their own. Hazel bit back a moan.
“Yes,” he encouraged her. “Do you like the way I’m touching you?”
She nodded. She couldn’t speak when her mind was so focused on this feeling. He delved deeper, touching the core of her body, his fingertips toying with her entrance. A heady sensation took over, a spreading warmth that filled her limbs with weight. Her legs fell open a little, and his touch grew firmer. He stroked his hand over the sensitive bud, and Hazel surprised herself by lifting her hips to chase the movement of his hands. He slid one finger inside her, a small intrusion she hardly noticed before he retreated again to tease her once more.
Now Hazel was growing impatient. She liked that feeling he created when he touched her little bud. She wanted him to do it again and again. He repeated the movement a few more times and then his finger slid deeper, filling her virgin passage and massaging it. But this time, he kept his thumb on her bud, and the feeling was so wonderfully intense, she moaned.
She sound embarrassed her at first. Her cheeks burned, but he continued on as if he hadn’t noticed. She was determined not to make such a sound again, but then he inserted another finger, filling her further, and his thumb was moving in circles.
Another moan escaped her. Hazel clamped her lips shut and gripped the sides of the tub. She was nearly consumed by the wicked sensations between her thighs. The pleasure radiated out to her limbs, to her stomach and chest, taunting her with an urgent need she didn’t understand. She let her head fall back to his shoulder on the verge of begging him for something, anything to appease this overwhelming need. Light shimmered behind her eyelids as she squeezed them lightly.
“Let go. Let it come.”
Hazel had no idea what he meant, but as he said the words, an ethereal pleasure shimmered through her and she cried out. She clamped her hand over her mouth. She could feel his chest rumbling against her back. Was he laughing? Growling?
She blinked her eyes open, on the verge of apologizing for whatever insanity had overcome her.
She turned to look at him over her shoulder. His head was thrown back, he was grinning.
“I…” She swallowed. She could feel a wave of humiliation threatening to swamp her.
“You were brilliant, Hazel.” He leaned forward and his arms came around her. He hugged her tightly. “That was the most erotic thing I’ve ever done.”
Hazel was lost for words. She just didn’t understand anything that she was feeling.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what I’ve done.”
“You’ve made me an exceedingly happy man—that’s what you’ve done.”
Hazel frowned. She could feel his ardent hardness against her back still and thought of the illuminating pleasure he gave her. “I’m not aware of doing anything.”
“Come. The best is yet to come.”
Hazel leaned forward so he could get out of the tub and accepted his help in stepping out. He picked her up, skin slick and wet, and carried her to the bed.
“Shouldn’t we dry ourselves?”
“There will be plenty of time for that later. I need you.” He set her down on the bed.
His voice was gruff, his grinning smile gone. He looked very serious. He laid down on top of her, their skin sliding together in a shocking way to Hazel.
“Oh!” She gasped.
“I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I want you, Hazel.” He caught her mouth in a kiss.
Hazel stilled. She gave herself to the kiss, something she was familiar with, and let everything else fall away. He pulled one knee to his hip and then the other. He was now cradled between her thighs and she could feel the blunt hot head like a brand against her. She could feel her own flesh, slick, giving to his probing, stretching and accepting. It was not painful until he came to a halt. She tensed the kiss no longer able to mask the new sensation of him inside her.
“Relax, Hazel. It will soon feel just as good as what I did in the tub.”
Hazel wasn’t sure she believed him. “I trust you.”
He withdrew just a little. Hazel had her hands on his back. She felt the muscles shifting and tightening. He thrust into her powerfully, seating himself fully.
Hazel felt the air escape her lungs. A pinching burn had replaced all the lovely feelings from before. She bit her lip anxiously, bracing herself for more of the unpleasantness. He stopped moving, pulling away to look down at her.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No,” Hazel lied, but she couldn’t stop her grimace when he moved just the slightest.
“I am,” he said remorsefully. “I’m sorry, Hazel. It is just the way it is at first. I promise it will get better.” He kissed her brow, and then he kissed her nose. He peppered kisses over her cheeks and lips, and then from her jaw to her neck.
As long as he didn’t move from the waist below she could enjoy it. Her favorite new thing was kissing. She could kiss him all day and night. She let herself relax, exploring the firm muscles of his back and moving her hands lower. She kissed him back wherever she could, his shoulders, his neck. She’d forgotten about the pain until she felt him move again, it wasn’t good, but it wasn’t bad either.
He caught her gaze as he pushed up to look down at her. “Slowly now.” He began to move.
Hazel found it easier to bear when she lifted her knees high and wide.
“Yes,” Garrett closed his eyes and groaned. It was taking everything in him to go this slow.
Hazel liked the expression on his face. It was a little bit tortured and unguarded. She set her hands on his chest, exploring the taut muscles while he moved slowly, filling her again, this time more deliberately, and he rubbed against her sensitive bud.
She inhaled. There was that feeling again. Each time his hips met hers, it was like a spark of pleasure. She focused more on the pleasure of their meeting bodies, and less about the pain inside until the pleasure smothered it all together. She took a deep breath and let herself relax a little more. Her hands wandered to his hips, and then around to his buttocks. She felt wicked and wanton, but his grunts and moans increased when she touched him, and she liked it. He came down on top of her again, her breasts rubbing against his chest, and the pressure on her bud increased tenfold. She was lost now, her own moans mixing with his, her eyes closed as she pressed her cheek to his shoulder and rode the wave of his thrusts.
It was better as he promised, so much better. The tingle that she experienced in the tub had grown into an inferno of need and ache. She chased that feeling, now knowing it lead to wonderful places. She found herself there rapidly, holding onto him tightly, her nails scoring the skin of his lower back. When she held him tightly, the pleasure was intense.
“Hazel,” he groaned. “Come with me Hazel.”
She didn’t know what he meant by that. She was clinging to her own pleasure, riding it toward the zenith she craved. She cried out, reaching her peak, her body exploding with decadent bliss.
Garrett thrust home one last time, his body climaxing with relief as joy flooded his veins. He tried not to crush her as his arms gave out and he collapsed onto her. He rolled to the side just enough so that she could breathe freely. He waited for his body to stop pulsing and then slipped out of her and wrapped her in his arms. He laid there, the sounds of their breathing filling the room. He couldn’t find enough brain function to speak, so he simply waited.
Hazel closed her eyes, a profound tiredness coming over her. She inhaled deeply, a new scent that was theirs together filling her nose and her head. She liked it. She hoped he didn’t have anything more planned for them because she was quickly falling asleep and didn’t think she would be able to wake for days.
Garrett was aware when she fell asleep. Her breathing changed and her body relaxed fully. He grinned. Sleeping was a wonderful idea. He pulled the coverlet over them and let himself fall asleep, too. But before he did, he had one last thought. He was convinced marrying Hazel was the best, most intelligent decision he’d ever made. This was happiness.