Damn the man or woman who decided wedding breakfasts were necessary.
All Graham could do was pray for mercy as the seconds ticked away with painful, unhurried method. Yet each time he'd glanced at his pocket watch, Bethanny's grip had tightened on his arm. Each time her grip had tightened, he'd glanced back to her and remembered the moment he'd first seen her walking down the aisle toward him.
She was beautiful, a vision from every dream he had ever been creative or poetic enough to imagine. The beauty of St. George's arched ceilings, the pillars and molded wood seemed ragged against the breathtaking beauty now standing beside him. As she'd walked down the aisle, it was as if his body had revolted against him, not allowing breath into his lungs and his heart pounding so hard its cadence drowned out the organ music.
The rest was a blur; all he remembered was when she'd said yes.
And the warm sensation of her hand within his.
Much like the warmth of her hand placed upon his arm.
Right now, he wanted that warmth on far more than his arm.
And, in the seemingly never-ending cycle, he'd reached down for his pocket watch and realized that only two minutes had passed since the last time he'd checked.
"I do believe it's time to depart," Graham spoke suddenly, interrupting Lord Neville's congratulatory words.
Bethanny shot him a surprised and slightly panicked expression.
Hopefully, she was only concerned about his lack of social grace, and not his impatience to begin other… activities.
Yet, as he remembered their clandestine meeting and the kiss that had scorched his very soul, he was quite certain she was only scandalized at his social skills.
But he was a desperate man.
And desperate men didn't hold to convention.
No, they simply didn't give a damn anymore.
So, with a knowing look from Lord Neville, Graham excused himself and his stuttering bride and made his way out of the entrance of the duke's residence, where the breakfast had been held.
And God was smiling on them, for behold, his carriage stood waiting.
"I rather thought your impulsive nature might get the best of you," Clairmont called out behind them.
"I can't imagine your meaning," Graham shot back as he helped a beaming Bethanny into the carriage.
"Let's just say I've been in your shoes… and they are hell itself."
"You do have a heart in there." Graham grinned as he glanced to the duke's chest.
"So I've been told." Clairmont shrugged. "I don't expect to see you soon." He smirked and turned back to enter the house.
"Please remind me to thank your guardian profusely… much later." Graham murmured as he gathered his bride into his arms and settled her onto his lap.
Good Lord, if I thought the breakfast was torture, the carriage ride will be even worse!
"I'm surprised you lasted this long." Bethanny grinned and leaned down, tracing her tongue along his lips before passionately assaulting him.
Graham groaned in pleasure as her sweet tongue danced with his, her body shifting slightly to press into his frame.
Her soft fragrance driving him mad.
With herculean self-control, Graham continued to kiss her, only kiss her as they made their way to his townhome. Her lips were soft delights that caused the fire of desire to burn and smolder till his self-control held on by a slight thread. Only the knowledge of her innocence held him in check.
He wanted to be perfect for her, each time, every time, but especially the first.
The carriage rocked to a halt, and Graham gently set Bethanny from his lap, his body demanding that he return her to the previous position, yet he resisted the urge to ravage her in the carriage and exited, holding out his hand for her to alight as well.
Then, without warning, he bent and swept her into his arms. Bounding up the stairs, he sent up a silent prayer of thanks when Watkins immediately opened the door and bowed, a knowing grin on his face.
"We are not to be disturbed," Graham shot over his shoulder as he made his way to the stairs.
"Of course." Watkins bowed, but Graham only caught the first hint of the gesture; rather, he was focusing on taking the stairs, two at a time, savoring the sweet tingling laughter coming from his wife as she held tightly to his neck.
She knew she should be scandalized, first with the presumptive and overly passionate kiss interrupting the priest, and then with leaving their own celebration far too early, yet Bethanny couldn't find it within her heart to give a fig.
Rather, she was lost entirely in the bliss of knowing she was loved by the man who had utterly captured her heart. Graham's strong arms held her tightly as he bounded up the stairs, as if almost afraid to let her go.
She understood the desperation. It had been too long since they had been afforded any measure of privacy.
The five minutes the duke had given them over the past two days didn't signify.
She ached, needed to have him to herself, uninterrupted and unhurried.
And, thank the good Lord, she was finally able to have that time.
And it was only the beginning. Because she was his wife, of all the women in the world, only she would carry his last name, his title… his children. Unable to restrain her delight, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his neck. His flesh was scented with a sweet spice that sent her senses to reeling as her body warmed further with desire. She nipped his skin slightly with her teeth, earning a groan of delight mixed with frustration from her husband.
Husband.
She'd never get tired of saying it.
"You will be the death of me," Graham swore as he shifted her weight so he could open the door to his rooms with one hand, while balancing her weight with his other.
Bethanny raised an eyebrow to show her approval.
"Love, I appreciate that you are easily impressed… but it's not necessary," Graham teased and carried her over the threshold. Kicking the door closed, he promptly deposited her on the bed, not allowing even a breath of time before his lips covered hers. Gently pressing into her, she reclined on the bed, relishing the intoxicating sensation of her husband's weight atop of her. He teased her lips with his own before darting his tongue along hers, the beautiful expression of give and take that sent her body to humming with a need she didn't understand.
"I do believe we are finally alone, countess," he whispered along her lips as he moved to nip teasingly at her jawline.
"Indeed," Bethanny whispered back, arching her neck to give him greater access.
"I love the curve of your neck. I swear you taste like heaven just here." Graham swirled his tongue just where her shoulder and neck met, causing her to gasp. "I'll remember that." He chuckled and proceeded to nudge the fabric of her dress with his nose. "However, I do believe we must do something about this." He pulled at the fabric with his teeth.
Bethanny gasped slightly as she glanced down to watch him. His eyes were dark and smoldering embers that promised to set her aflame.
Though she could have sworn she was already burning.
Gathering her courage, she ran her hands over his chest and under his coat, loosening it from his frame. "The same could be said of you, my lord." She teased as she tugged on his cravat, loosening it and pulling till the silk was removed from his neck entirely. She tossed it to the floor, not waiting for the soft garment to float downward; rather impatiently, she leaned forward and began to kiss the small opening at the base of his neck.
"Good Lord, Bethanny," Graham spoke hoarsely.
She smiled against his skin, savoring the millions of pleasurable sensations all surrounding her, creating a fog of desire.
"Enough." Graham pulled himself from the bed, his eyes dark with something mysteriously delicious. He made quick work of removing his coat entirely and began on the buttons of his blindingly white shirt. Groaning after impatiently unbuttoning three, he swore under his breath and removed the garment over his head.
Bethanny gasped.
His movement had tightened the hardened muscles in his abdomen, causing a rippling effect, which captivated her. He was beautiful. As he tossed the shirt to the floor, his shoulders bunched with the gesture, and her gaze traveled upward, taking in the firm lines of his chest and the smooth texture of his skin.
When she moved her gaze to meet his, she grinned as he winked at her. "I'm delighted you approve." He smiled, showing off his dimples.
Bethanny sighed in appreciation.
"If you've finished enjoying the view, I believe it's my turn," he whispered softly as he lithely stepped toward her, his amber eyes never leaving hers.
"For?" Bethanny asked, her attention arrested by the way his shoulders swayed when he walked, the way his stomach tensed when she reached out and touched the smooth and firm, warm skin.
"To enjoy the view." He pulled her from her sitting position on the bed. Without a word, he tugged on the sash behind her, loosening the fabric so that it was no longer tight, but flowing around her waist. At first, he slid each button through with unhurried motions. "I hate buttons." He swore after a moment. "You're never to wear them again," he pleaded impatiently before tugging on the fabric and sending the offending objects scattering along the floor.
Bethanny shot him an irritated glare. She had rather liked that dress.
"I'll make up for it, I promise," Graham assured with a wicked grin as he removed her gown from her shoulders and let it pool to the ground in a whisper of silk.
"Bethanny," he whispered as he bent and kissed her bare shoulder. His breath tickled her flesh all while sending shivers of desire along her body. Silently, he tugged on the strings of her corset, and quicker than her maid had ever accomplished the task, had it loosened enough to be removed.
"Don't be afraid," he assured her as she clung to the French-designed garment.
Taking a deep breath, she raised her arms and allowed Graham to pull it over her head.
His Adam's apple bobbed as he took in the sight of her, fierce emotion clouding his gaze as he placed a delicate kiss at her heart.
She lifted her hands and placed them at his head, tugging at his dark hair and exhaling softly as he turned so that his ear was placed against her heart.
Graham lifted his head and all but attacked her lips, his hands immediately going to her hair, loosening it from its bindings.
She heard the clatter of pins hitting the floor.
Joining the buttons.
However, that was the last coherent thought she was able to pull from her mind as Graham's hands roamed her back, deftly eliminating the remaining clothing that separated them.
With a grace she'd never be able to attain, Graham had expertly laid her out on the mattress, joining her and warming her, all while overwhelming her senses.
And as the night wore on, Bethanny discovered all the knowledge she had lacked, and, by far, experience was the best teacher.
Especially when one's teacher was her husband.
Graham awoke with the sweet scent of rosewater tickling his senses.
And his nose.
Opening his eyes, he turned slightly, only to encounter his wife's unclad form pressed against him in the most provocative manner imaginable.
And Graham had always had a very active imagination.
His nose twitched again as he gently brushed away a few strands of her glorious mane that were tickling his face.
Biting back a groan of desire, he relaxed and simply gazed at his sleeping beauty.
Heaven knew, after last night she needed her rest.
He needed his rest.
After all, no one would disturb them for days, weeks even.
He might be able to stretch it for a few months, if luck were on his side.
There was no need to be impatient or hurried.
Bethanny stirred and pressed into him further.
However, this time he wasn't able to stifle the groan, and it came out as a hoarse croak.
"Good morning," she murmured, her eyes far too bright for one to have just awakened.
"Minx. But I must say your choice of torture is quite persuasive," he mumbled as he kissed her deeply.
"Is that so?" she purred against his lips.
"Hmm."
Hang rest, Graham thought as he once again sought the intensely captivating pleasure found in his wife's arms.
Afterward, Graham caressed the soft, inviting skin of her shoulder. "I almost feel as though I'm in danger of waking up."
Bethanny shifted so that she met his gaze. "I understand entirely." Her gaze was so perfectly clear, so full of love it was almost blinding to behold.
"It seems so inadequate… but, I love you. Utterly, completely love you." He leaned forward and kissed her nose.
"I think I love you more," she replied softly.
"I highly doubt that." Graham chuckled and pulled her in closer.
"It's true. You know why?" Bethanny glanced up at him, a twinkle in her eye.
"Why then? Though I must add that I will not agree to the validity of your argument."
"Very well. But I love you more because I loved you first." She raised a daring eyebrow for emphasis.
Graham chuckled, tickling her ribs and earning a squeal.
He was going to enjoy teasing her for the rest of their lives.
Teasing and tasting.
It was a beautiful combination.
"You might have loved me first…" Graham growled as he leaned into ravage her mouth, "but I most assuredly love you the most," he murmured as he trailed kisses down to her navel and paused, glancing up at her.
"And why is that?" She grinned, though he could see the passion building in her eyes.
Graham shifted so that he was facing her once more. Tenderly touching her face, he trailed his fingers down her brow and over her cheeks to the sweet temptation of her lips. "You know… how about I simply show you… for the next fifty or so years?" He grinned.
"Fifty at least," Bethanny agreed and pulled him into her embrace.
At least fifty.