Wedding Night at Worthington
With Cal at her side, Julia cut into the beautiful wedding cake. Laughter surrounded them, and cheers rang up as she made the first slice. Wishes flowed for their happiness, for a fruitful marriage. A string orchestra played and Cal put his hand on her lower back and led her into a waltz.
She was gloriously in love. It made her heart ache with the sheer joy of it.
Cal danced with her toward the terrace windows. They slipped outside—where they were alone. Cal led her into the shade. He held her hand, fingers entwined with hers. “Suddenly I have good memories of this place.”
“I’m so glad.” Worthington had been filled with poignant memories for her. The joy of having been in love with Anthony; the sorrow of losing him to the War. For her, those memories were as imbued into the estate as wax was worked into the woodwork. But now this would be the house where she had married. Where she built a future with Cal.
She had saved Worthington. But that mattered far less than the fact Cal must be healing. “I always loved it here.” Her voice wobbled. “But now it seems so much more precious—because I am here with you.”
“Julia—no one’s ever said anything like that to me before. And I feel like you mean it.”
“Of course I do.” He was the confident man who painted naked models, yet sometimes he was so vulnerable.
He grinned—more shyly than she’d ever seen. “I can’t wait for tonight,” he said softly.
Tonight. Their wedding night.
He drew her into his arms. Cal kissed her neck, right at the join with her shoulders. The day was warm, but this set her on fire. She was ready to dissolve...
“We should go back,” she said briskly. At least she tried to sound brisk. It came out rather croaky. “The guests will think we’ve slipped away...to do things.”
“We can do things now, Sheba. Any wicked thing you want. I bet you’ve fantasized but made sure no one ever found out about it. Or do ladies not allow themselves to have erotic fantasies?”
She blushed fiercely. “Don’t tease me.”
“I’m sorry. Just don’t ever forget how much I love you.”
“Of course, I won’t,” she promised. “And Paris opened my eyes to naughty ideas.”
He drew in a sharp breath. “We’ll go back to the crowd for now,” he said, his voice more hoarse. “But tonight I’m going to make you mine.”
“I already am yours.”
“I want to make sure I can never lose you.”
Julia caught her breath. Why would he fear losing her? Because he had lost people he loved? His smile had faded and he led her back to the glass terrace doors.
Later, as she was preparing for bed—for her wedding night!—Julia gazed in her mirror and she hurt for him as she remembered how nervous he’d sounded about losing her. She wanted this night to be special. Perfect. Ellen was behind her, brushing out her hair. “You do not need to do one hundred strokes tonight.” Cal, being sweet, had arranged for Ellen and Ben to move into the house that afternoon. His specialist was already helping Ellen, who had told Julia she was having fewer nightmares.
“It’s my wedding night. My husband will be here any minute,” she added.
Ellen smiled. “And you’ll bowl him over, I’m sure. You look lovely, my lady.”
Julia gazed at her reflection. Did she? She wore a new nightgown from her trousseau. There was barely anything to it. It looked like what a moving picture star would wear. Silk with tiny straps, a bodice of lace shaped to curve around each breast, so it was almost like having them bare. Although it was pure, pale white, she knew it certainly did not look virginal.
Cal was going to see her in this. And he might want to see her in much less.
“I will go, my lady.”
“Wait—”
Ellen stopped. “Yes, my lady?”
She’d realized that once Ellen left her, Cal could come in. Nerves gripped her. But this was the 1920s, not Victorian England. She was supposed to be brave about this.
But that was also what scared her. People talked about sex all the time—women and men. Everyone wanted passion and if it wasn’t to be had in marriage, they got it elsewhere. The women in the Parisian nightclub talked openly about sex, but she—she didn’t really know anything about it. For all she’d told Mother she did.
“What’s wrong, my lady?”
Really, she couldn’t stall all night. Or night after night. “Nothing at all. Thank you.”
“Yes, my lady,” Ellen said, and left.
Once she was alone, Julia got up from the vanity, pulled on her robe and tied it tight. She started to pace. She was in the countess’s room. Cal had vowed to hire an army of decorators to change it however she wished. The countess had gone to the dower house on the estate. And now the wedding was over, Diana must soon go to Switzerland to have her baby.
At the wedding reception, the Earl of Summerhay had been a true gentleman about losing her to Cal, wishing them happiness. The Duke of Bradstock, however, had said, “Julia, I am afraid he’s going to make you unhappy. He’s not one of us. But I will be there for you. I promise. I won’t let him break your heart.”
“How considerate of you to worry about me,” she had said, secretly rolling her eyes.
What was taking Cal so long?
On the other hand, was she ready for him? How did one go from being too ladylike, embarrassed and restrained to even address the subject, to actually doing it in a way that would please a man?
What if this part of their marriage didn’t work? Would he stray?
“Stop,” she said to her reflection. It was crazy to worry about losing him before they’d even started. She ached for his touch. Didn’t that promise it would be wonderful?
The door opened and Cal stepped into her room.
“Oh, er,” she said. Eloquently.
He wore a robe of indigo silk, belted at the waist. His feet were bare. His tousled blond hair fell over his brow.
A lady took charge of all situations—she greeted visitors, knew how to engage in polite conversation, knew how to address the myriad details that went into running a house.
How on earth did one greet a man before getting into bed with him? Julia tried what any social hostess would do—bright and innocuous remarks. “The wedding was lovely, wasn’t it?”
“All I needed was to hear you say, ‘I do,’ doll. The rest of it just got in the way.”
“In the way of what?”
“Making love to you.”
The intense way he looked at her—all blue eyes and heat—made her feel she was melting. There was such naughtiness in his gaze. She focused on his wrists, of all things. Bare under the sleeves of his robe. He had elegant, long fingers.
“Perhaps we should slip into the bed. Which side would you prefer?” she asked politely.
That ignited one of his naughtiest grins.
He came to her, tipped up her chin, slanted his mouth over hers. His tongue teased hers. He tasted of brandy, but mostly of Cal—the warm, sensuous flavor she knew from kissing him.
He slipped his hand in her robe, cupped her breast through the filmy bodice of her scandalous nightdress.
“Oh,” she gasped.
His palm caressed her nipple, then his fingers lightly closed around it. He gently pinched.
“Oh!” It came out much louder.
His fingers did wicked things to her nipple and, through the satin of her nightdress, to the private place between her legs.
She felt the familiar flare of nerves over doing something naughty. But she could now be as wicked with Cal as she wanted to be.
“I want to watch you come, Julia. I want to see you in ecstasy, hear you scream my name.”
She stared, not comprehending a thing.
“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, Julia. I used to dream I could escape New York’s slums and touch the stars. Holding you in my arms is as magical as touching all the stars in the universe.”
Hands trembling, she undid his robe. He murmured, “Yes, Julia,” as the dark blue silk parted, revealing his lean body. She’d never seen a whole naked male body. Statues always had fig leaves; illustrations in books had some kind of demure covering added.
She giggled.
Cal stopped kissing her and his hands stopped caressing. “I look funny?”
Oh goodness, he was pouting. “No. You’re just so lean and firm. And then there’s that part that sticks out. Like a baton. I just didn’t know it looked like that.” Her cheeks burned.
Cal grinned. “You’re more than lovely. You’re like a drug I can’t get enough of.” He opened her robe. She knew it was going to happen but she felt nervous, standing before him in her skimpy gown. His eyes went wide, met hers, glowing a fiery blue. “Julia—you aren’t just as lovely as a star, you’re the sexiest Sheba I’ve ever seen.”
She blushed. A lady should be shocked to be described so, but she felt a thrill. She moved to close the robe again, but he pushed it off her shoulders. It fell to the floor. Cal lifted her up, her silk skirts spilling over his arms. He carried her to her bed. Then he whisked up the skirt of her nightgown and—to her absolute shock—buried his face between her bare legs, kissing her in that most intimate place.
“Cal! What are you doing?”
He couldn’t answer, of course—
Oooh. His tongue moved over her private place, caressing her. This was stunningly wonderful. Julia closed her eyes, too ladylike to look as he did things to her. He tasted her in such an intimate way that she was blushing. He didn’t seem to mind. Or be shocked.
Oh!
She’d never dreamed Cal would put his mouth to her sex and would caress her, nibble her. Or that it would feel so good. Julia stretched her arms over her head. Pleasure made her want to moan. She felt so sensuous. So thoroughly feminine.
His hands pressed to her naked bottom, making her gasp as he lifted her.
She opened her eyes and saw Cal’s heavy-lidded blue eyes watching her. A bit of blond stubble graced his jaw and cheeks. She couldn’t resist—she reached out and rubbed her palm against it. It tickled and the light stab sent a shot of desire right between her legs.
“Oh!”
He was hers now. She could touch him in any way she liked. She couldn’t quite believe it.
He bent to her sex again and caressed with his tongue. He flicked a place that sent a bolt of lightning through her.
Pleasure grew and grew. She rocked her hips, driven to satisfy this need building in her. A need that made her hands curl into the bed. That made her moan his name. She’d never known anything like it.
“Oooooh!”
The most unladylike things happened. Her hips launched up and smacked him. Her arms flailed on the bed. She cried out. She was in a maelstrom of pulsing muscles and pleasure.
She reached a peak, almost flying off the bed. It began to loosen its grip and she flopped back to the mattress feeling as if she was floating, as if she weighed nothing at all.
Cal moved up and kissed her. She tasted ripeness and blushed. Perspiration prickled on her and she was panting for breath.
“Good?” he asked.
“The bee’s knees. I had no idea. I mean—I’ve felt desire for you that is so strong it made me rather desperate. But I had no idea it made one feel this wonderful.”
His grin would have melted icebergs. “Once you’ve had an explosive climax, Julia, you’re driven to seek it again. Now, let me give you another.”
Julia looked down and saw he was still erect. “Oh yes. Of course. That is my duty—”
“The hell with duty,” he said roughly. He moved over her, naked. His legs were spread to rest on either side of hers. “I just want to make you feel good.”
He kissed her and she ached inside. She felt empty and wanted—needed—him to fill her. Was this what she’d been missing all her life? She’d thought dancing wildly to jazz was thrilling, but this was the most special dance of all.
Then he touched the tip of his erection to her most private place. She held her breath. Held his gaze—his vivid blue gaze. The way he looked at her...it was the most intimate thing. She’d never had any man look so deeply into her eyes.
He touched her down there, opening her. Something thick and warm pressed against her. She had never dreamed it would be like this. Primitive. Hot. Sweaty. Earthy and real.
Daringly, she let her hands move over his back. She shivered at the flex of his big, powerful muscles. He was so different than her—broad back and narrow hips. Her hands went down low enough to feel the hard curves of his naked buttocks.
Beautiful. He was so beautiful.
She let her hand drift around his hip. Her fingers brushed the hair that grew thickly between his legs. It tickled her fingertips.
Then she touched it. The thick shaft of his erection. Her fingers skimmed over velvet skin, the ridges of veins, and touched a soft full shape at the end. Wetness stuck to her fingertips.
Cal groaned. “I like that, Julia.” His eyes glowed. “I knew you would be like this. Here, in bed, I knew you wouldn’t be ladylike at all.”
His fingers touched her as she stroked him. He opened her and she gasped at the flood of wetness he released.
“Do you want me?” he asked.
“So much it hurts.” She giggled shyly, but it was true.
The world hadn’t stopped this time. It still raced on all around them. But nothing else mattered other than this moment. Nothing except showing Cal how much she truly loved him.
She arched her hips against him. Gasped as his hardness slipped inside a little.
“Let me do it,” he murmured. “I’ll be gentle.”
He was. Slow, gentle, moving himself into her with restrained power. She felt a twinge of pain, dug her fingernails into his bare arms.
He stopped. “Are you okay?”
The pain eased. “I am now.”
Then he was inside her. Completely. Deeply. His body lay along hers, touching hers, though he supported his weight on his arms.
“You’re so lovely. So hot. Like silk.” His words came out jerky. “I can’t hold on.”
“Hold on to what?” she breathed.
“Sanity,” he muttered. He moved inside her, drawing back. Slowly, he thrust forward again. Sensation exploded in her brain like a band bursting into frantic jazz music.
Over and over, he thrust. She—she liked it. Moans escaped her. She made all kinds of funny little sounds because she had to let them out or she’d explode.
He shifted, so his shaft rubbed the place he’d touched with his mouth—
She squealed. A wave of sheer joy hit her. Her whole body erupted all at once. All her muscles pulsed. Pleasure rushed all over her again.
She clung to him. Felt him go stiff against her. He shuddered. “Julia.”
She’d never had her name said like that. As though she was the most powerful thing in the whole world.
His hips moved against her. He was having his pleasure, too. She held him, loving that she could share this with him.
After, Cal rolled off her and wrapped his arms around her. He covered them both with the sheets and counterpane. He kissed the top of her head. “I love you so much. I’m a lucky man.”
She closed her eyes. “Not half as lucky as me,” she breathed.
He gave a soft laugh. “Oh, Julia. God—” He broke off and kissed her passionately.
Sapped of strength, still delirious with pleasure, she cuddled in his arms.
Just before she fell asleep, she knew she’d found her place in the world.
* * *
Julia woke in the morning, cradled by Cal’s muscular arm. It was the second most thrilling moment she’d ever known. Most aristocratic couples did not share a bed. After last night, she would not accept anything less.
He stirred at her side. She gazed up at him, and he kissed her forehead gently. “Good morning, my lovely wife.”
She giggled. “Good morning, my gorgeous husband.” Wild ideas filled her head. She wanted to make love again—but it wasn’t nighttime, of course.
“I knew when I broke through that ladylike shell I’d find a woman inside who was all fire and passion. I want you like this always, Julia. I don’t want you hiding who you really are anymore. Promise me you’ll never hide the fire inside you again.”
“Cal, I can’t be like this at dinner parties and in the drawing room.”
“Sheba, you’re not going to have time for dinner parties and drawing rooms. I’m going to keep you in here.” Then he looked serious. “Except for today. I have to go out this morning. I have some business to attend to.”
That startled her. “You do? What sort of business?”
“Some private business.”
She realized he was not going to say any more than that.
“I don’t want you to worry your pretty head about things,” he said. “That’s what I do as your husband. I take care of you. I have to leave right after breakfast. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
“Pretty head!” She frowned teasingly. “Cal, I expect to share burdens with you as your wife. But you don’t know when you will return?”
“No.” He hesitated. “I might be out tonight.”
“Tonight? But it is the night after our wedding.”
“Sorry, Julia. I have to do this. I’ll make it up to you. And, Julia, you can’t go anywhere on your own. Genevra saw a man in a fancy automobile driving a dark-haired girl on the estate.”
She wanted to ask him more, but he was gone then, out of their shared bed. He wrapped his robe around him, but left his belt untied, as if he didn’t want to linger long enough to do it up. He went through the connecting door to his room with the parting words, “See you later.”
She didn’t quite understand. She thought they were beginning their lives together. Being alone wasn’t what she’d planned for the first day after their marriage.
Minutes later, her door opened and her heart leaped with hope he’d changed his mind—
Ellen came in with a tray. She placed it across Julia’s hips. A married woman had breakfast in her bed. “His lordship said you were ready for your tray.” Ellen poured her a cup of tea. “What will you be doing today, my lady? What clothing should I put out?”
“I will do what I always do. Put out my light tweeds. I suppose I will go and see the various women who have accounts with me. But first I have work to do—review the menus, arrange to meet with the housekeeper.”
She knew what it was to be mistress of a great house. This was what her mother and grandmother had groomed her to do. It would not worry them in the least to have their husbands disappear. They would have expected it. She had thought, long ago, she would be mistress of Worthington. And now she was here, in the house she loved, that had been so special to her.
But Julia felt empty. She felt as if a huge part of her would be missing, if Cal was not here.
That was nonsense. She drank her tea. There was so much to be done. She could now fulfill all the plans she and Anthony had made for Worthington.
She should be happy. She had purpose. And much to do.