Planning for such a life-altering event had not been easy, as sheltered and isolated as Lila had been throughout her life. She’d managed to ask Fran a few questions, and one of the housemaids, Dora, had been quite forthcoming, but nothing she’d learned on her own had prepared her for the magnitude of the actual experience itself.
All she could do when Pemberth claimed her mouth and then lifted her easily and carried her across the room was cling to him for dear life.
Dora had not mentioned anything about his tongue… doing these things. And although she might have thought the sensation would be unpleasant, Lila found it all rather intriguing.
In fact, she felt somewhat bereft when he dropped her onto the bed, forcing their mouths to disengage.
Most likely, he’d unfasten his breeches now.
“Do you want to extinguish the lantern?” She stared up at him.
His hands were indeed working at his waist. He did not answer her. He merely shook his head.
So, she would see it. It could not be very large, because Lila couldn’t imagine…
Perhaps she’d rather not actually see it.
Laying back, she slid her feet apart, creating what she hoped would be an appropriate amount of room for him to work, and closed her eyes tightly.
She was not sure exactly what she had been waiting for, but when nothing happened, she opened her eyes and found him lying sideways on the bed, staring at her with his head resting on one hand.
And then she felt… it.
Glancing down was enough to confirm her suspicions. He had removed his breaches and—
Yes. The solid poking feeling at her side was indeed his member pressing into her. She just as quickly flicked her gaze back up to his face.
“Lila.” For the first time since meeting him that morning, she sensed he might possibly be capable of smiling. Not that he was smiling at her now, but something danced in the back of those silver-blue eyes. “Are you certain you are prepared to do this?”
“Yes.” She didn’t want to take any chances. “Just do what you need to do.” She closed her eyes again.
Then his hand was running down the length of her arm. He took a moment to draw a few light circles on the back of her hand and then moved his to rest on her abdomen.
Butterflies seemed to dance under her skin where he touched her. Her breath hitched when that same hand crept upward to just beneath her breast, cupping it from below.
“I won’t hurt you, Lila.” His voice sounded gravelly beside her ear.
She nodded slightly. Did she trust him?
Oddly enough, she did.
And then his fingers were slowly massaging the flesh that surrounded the tip. Pangs of… something hot coursed from where he touched her, to her center. Abandoning her earlier position, she squeezed her legs together and bent her knees. A tight pinch from his fingers had her swallowing hard.
When something warm and wet settled over her other breast, her eyes flew open.
She could only see the top of his head. He’d taken her nipple into his mouth, the fabric of her night rail no deterrent at all!
Awareness of a throbbing warmth between her legs replaced her initial shock and a moaning sound filled her ears.
Was that her?
It was! She squirmed, suddenly uncomfortable and wanting and scared all at the same time.
“I’m preparing you,” he mumbled before claiming her lips with his again.
Again, she could only nod, as his lips chased around the sides of her mouth, trailing down to her earlobes.
She shivered, and his tongue swirled around the shell of her ear.
His hand had abandoned her breast and now caressed her thigh. She’d not even noticed that he’d lifted her night rail.
Part of her wanted to stop him, and the image of his member burned on the back of her eyelids, but she’d determined long ago the necessity of assuring her marriage could never be contested.
She knew her father all too well—his dishonesty and cheating—his nefariousness knew no bounds.
Pemberth’s hand moved to the small mound just above her apex and all thoughts of her father fled. Dora had hinted at some of this, but Lila had not really believed her. Hunger grew inside of her.
Of their own volition, her hips thrust forward, inexplicably demanding more of his touch.
Ah, yes. Whereas before she’d been unable to even imagine him putting something inside of her there, she now wanted something…
She wanted anything.
She found herself twisting, writhing to be closer to him. And then his fingers slid into her folds, rubbing, circling, almost robbing her of her breath.
“How?” she panted. “What is—?” But then his mouth was devouring hers again. And just as his tongue thrust past her lips, one of his fingers slid inside of her.
His tongue thrust around her teeth and then deeper, just as he did with his hand. Another finger entered her and all she could do was clutch at him. Part of her felt like crying, part of her felt like screaming. This overwhelming onslaught was nearly too much.
Vincent hadn’t expected to find himself straining against his own needs. He wasn’t a rutting schoolboy.
But, by God, watching her come alive beneath his hand—feeling her body tremble and reach for completion—had him struggling not to spend atop the bedclothes.
“So wet. So warm.” He hadn’t known he was speaking until he heard his own voice out loud. His hand caressed and then massaged around her opening before slipping a middle finger inside. She lifted and bucked beneath him in a haze of passion. But he enjoyed being in control and slowed her by leaning forward, pinning her down with his body.
When she cried out, he captured her sounds inside his own mouth.
Such a fine line between exquisite pleasure and torture.
Unable to wait one second longer, Vincent withdrew his hand and rested his arms along her head. He had never taken a virgin before.
Spreading her thighs wide with his knees, he settled atop her and pressed his tip against her soft opening.
Sensing her arousal, experiencing a hint of her tight, wet heat, his own excitement had him surging forward with one single thrust. There was nothing to do but to break her barrier; better not to prolong the process.
Ah, the exquisite pleasure.
Except the breathy panting sounds tickling his face were immediately replaced by a sharp gasp of pain. She stiffened beneath him, stilling his motions.
“Blast.” He froze and hovered.
He’d taken her too quickly. He wasn’t so oblivious as that. What if he were to move again? Should he pull back? It might cause her more pain.
Guilt hit him when he opened his eyes and saw tears rolling down the sides of her face onto the pillow. “Lila,” he whispered, feeling as though he ought to call her by her title. Place ‘Lady’ before it at the very least. “Are you all right?” He began pulling away, but her hands clutched at him tightly.
Okay. No moving.
“Lila?” he asked again.
Her lashes fluttered and then eyes the color of the ocean on a sunny day gazed up at him.
She did not appear to be devastated or tortured. Although the tears continued to fall, she smiled. And then laughed. “That was it, was it not?”
What was what?
“We have done it?” she clarified.
Which nearly had him laughing. Instead, he merely nodded. “Your father cannot charge me with failure to consummate.” The words were so ridiculous, and her relief so obvious, that he couldn’t help but smile back at her.
But there was more. So much more. He held himself in check so that she could grow used to his intrusion.
“I’m going to begin moving again.” He stared at her lips, swollen from his kisses, and then back into her eyes. His own need demanded he get back to business.
She nodded. “But,” her voice caught him just as he went to pull back, “slowly?”
In answer, he captured her lips again and slowly slid his tongue past her teeth once.
And then again.
She nodded.
He pulled back less than an inch and then crept forward again. She did not close her eyes this time, and neither did he. He would watch her, follow her signals as he gradually increased the depth and pace of his strokes.
Her eyelids grew heavy, and Vincent could hold back no longer.
He reached for her hands and lifted them to the bedframe. “Place your hands here.” He wrapped her fingers around the cool metal.
He’d not had a woman in nearly four months. She was his wife.
She was his.
He’d all but bought and paid for her.
Frantic with lust, Vincent finally allowed his cock free rein, driving and shoving himself to completion. Just before he was about to spend, she convulsed and cried out.
Deeper. Again deeper.
His release came in an explosion of red and white light. He emptied himself inside of her, prodded one last time, and then collapsed as though boneless.
Lila edged herself out from beneath the hulk of a man who slept atop her, dislodging his member in the process. She felt sticky, shaky, and not at all certain that any of that had been what she’d expected.
Some aspects had been so very tender and sweet, and then others had seemed almost violent. In the light of the lantern, she stared at him and wondered who he was. His skin shone almost golden, shadows and ridges creating a myriad of swirls over his skin.
Sliding her feet to the floor, she winced. Blood and… something else. His seed. No maid would ever discover these sheets. In the morning, Lila would change them out for one she’d stuffed into her bag.
She’d have evidence. Just in case.
She could not trust her father.
As she stood, her muscles protested, and twinges from between her legs reminded her that she was no longer a maiden.
She had… enjoyed it. Even when he’d seemed more animal than man.
When he’d placed her hands upon the bars, she’d felt a moment of fear. But after that, she’d been grateful for something to hold her steady so that she could take him deeper and reach for him with… she didn’t quite know.
But in the end, she could not deny her reaction to what they shared.
Not at all what she’d expected.
She tiptoed across to the tray of food she’d barely touched earlier and broke off a piece of bread. Dropping to the hard wooden chair, she bit into it enthusiastically.
Now that it was over, her appetite had returned.
Would he sleep through the night like that? Wearing nothing?
He was quite handsome. In all her imaginings, she’d never suspected her husband would look like him. Her initial fiancé, although handsome and well-built, had been dark and not nearly as large.
Pemberth was large.
All of him.
It had fit. He’d driven it in and out of her—that pulsing staff of rigid flesh.
At first, it had seemed as though it would not fit, but then her body had adjusted… made room for him.
And it had only hurt in those first few moments. After that, she’d felt it deep inside and she’d known a…
Knowing.
A belonging.
She took another bite of the bread but slowed her chewing when he moaned and rolled over, exposing himself to her in the dim light. She’d known it wasn’t always erect but was still slightly surprised at the shriveled creature it had become.
Lila obviously had a great deal to learn.
“Are you well?” She’d been so intent upon the change in him that she’d not realized he was awake.
Forcing herself to meet his gaze, she nodded.
“I did not hurt you?”
“Only a little.” She rose from her chair, wet a cloth, and crossed the room to hand it to him. “Do you mind if I change the sheet?”
He’d taken the cloth without question but then glanced up curiously. He looked different to her but she wondered if it was her imagination. His lips seemed fuller, and she noticed tiny little lines at the sides of his eyes, as though he’d spent either a good deal of time out of doors or that he did, in fact, laugh.
She hoped it was the latter. “There is more bread and butter.” Perhaps he’d worked up an appetite as well. “And some cheese… if you like.” How was it that he was a stranger, and yet…?
“I didn’t hate it.” She would try to break through some of this awkwardness. “I thought I would, but I didn’t.”
The man seemed to have not one iota of modesty. She’d expected that he would don his breeches once again and perhaps pull on his shirt, but he’d simply crossed to the tray and taken the seat she’d vacated.
Stark naked.
Although he’d pulled her gown over halfway up her body, he’d never removed it from her completely. A few damp spots darkened the material in some embarrassing locations.
Around the bodice of the night rail and lower, where some of his seed had dripped.
“I’m glad.” He spoke around the cheese he’d taken a bite of. And then an almost smile. “I did not hate it either.”
Something in his look had heat rushing up her neck. What did a lady say in response to any of this? Did it matter, since she was his wife? Somehow, she didn’t think she could offend him in any way.
He was unlike any noblemen she’d ever been acquainted with.
“How long have you been duke?”
His almost-smile disappeared completely, and his mouth set into a grim line. “Three months.”
“I’m sorry.” Had his father been ill? Had it been sudden? That would explain his morose countenance. “Were you close to your father?”
He tossed the hunk of cheese he’d been eating back onto the tray. “My father died over twenty years ago. My older brother held the title.”
Lila had removed the sheet and was opening the much finer quality linen she’d removed from her bag. Without needing to be asked, he crossed to the other side of the bed and assisted her. Despite the nature of their conversation, she couldn’t help enjoying watching his muscles flex and strain beneath his skin.
“I’m sorry,” Lila said again. “Was he ill?” Her curiosity got the better of her.
“No.” Tight-lipped, he stuffed the linen beneath the mattress. “We’d best get some rest. I’d like to arrive at Glenn Abby before nightfall tomorrow. To do so, we’ll have to get an early start.” He’d thrown the patched counterpane back onto the mattress and, without consulting her, extinguished the lantern.
Lila climbed back under the blanket, careful to give him more than half of the bed.
Overall, her marriage was a success.
Her next objective: lower his defenses. After that, she could ask him about sending for Arianna.