the fire in his loins.
She had said she was ready.
But to her their wedding day had been wonderful. This, the consummation, was the culmination of the wedding day. He would not let it be a disappointment to her.
It was the least he could do.
He spread his knees, lifting her legs over them until she twined them about his. And he slid his hands beneath her buttocks, lifted her and held her firm, positioned himself at her entrance, and pressed firmly inside.
He both watched and listened to her inhale slowly, her eyes fluttering closed until he was deeply embedded in her. He held still.
Lord God, she was all wet heat and soft sheath and clenching muscles.
And he –
He clamped his teeth together for a few moments. He would /not/, by Jove, give in to pure instinct.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him. He slid his hands from beneath her, moved them up her sides, pressed them beneath her breasts, and brushed his thumbs over her nipples. 'Oh, no,' she said. 'Oh, no, it is too much, Duncan. It is too much.' 'Is it?' He settled his hands on her hips and withdrew from her and pressed in again and withdrew and thrust, beginning a deep and steady rhythm, gritting his teeth against too early an ejaculation.
He looked down to watch what he did. And he glanced up to see that she watched too, with heavy-lidded eyes and parted lips – until her eyes drifted closed and her hands, spread on the bed on either side of her, pressed into the mattress and her head tipped back against the pillow and her inner muscles clenched hard about him and she breathed in labored gasps.
He took her hands in his and raised them above her head, straightening his legs and bringing his whole weight down on top of her as he did so.
He quickened and deepened the rhythm, pumping hard into her until she cried out, shuddered convulsively against him, and fell limp and relaxed beneath him.
Her hands were hot and slick with sweat. So was the rest of her body.
The blood pulsed through him, hammering in his ears, thundering in his chest, making his erection an agony. He worked her swiftly until the climax came, and then he sighed against the side of her face and relaxed.
He listened to his heartbeat return to normal, perhaps drifted off into a sort of sleep while it did so, and marveled at the feel of her beneath him – and at the realization that she was a woman of great passion. 'Duncan,' she whispered, 'are you awake?' 'Mmm? No,' he said. 'Am I heavy?' 'Yes,' she said, 'but you need not move yet. It was lovely. Thank you.' The prim lady again – lying naked and sweaty beneath him and all twined about him.
He propped himself on one elbow and looked down at her. 'It was,' he said, 'and thank /you/, Maggie. But it might grow a little tedious if we feel we must thank each other every time.' She cupped the free side of his face with one hand. 'I am not sorry,' she said. 'That I married you, I mean. I am really not.' As if she had thought she might be.
Because of Dew? It had been a little disconcerting to see the man at their wedding breakfast – to see her talking with him, to see him take her hand.
He opened his mouth to say something, but changed his mind. 'I am not sorry either,' he said. 'However, if there is to be any more to this wedding night, Maggie, I am going to have to get some sleep, I'm afraid.' 'Oh,' she said – and smiled.
He disengaged from her body, rolled to one side of her, and lifted the bedcovers up over them. He looked across at her and realized that, just like that, she was asleep.
He lay beside her, looking at her for a while until sleep overtook him too.
Tomorrow they would be on their way to Woodbine and the rest of their lives. Within a few days Toby would join them. He was to live with them, just as if he were a normal, regular child – as he was, of course.
He would, Duncan thought, forever be grateful to her for that.
His heart ached with longing.
Daylight was making a bright square of the window behind the curtains when Margaret woke up. She stretched tentatively, remembering instantly – how could she forget? – and was aware of her unfamiliar nakedness between the sheets.
She felt wicked and wonderful – and amused by the former.
She turned her head, smiling. The bed was empty beside her, the covers thrown back.
She had slept through his getting up and leaving the room? She could scarcely believe it. She had always been a light sleeper and an early riser. Of course, it /had/ been a busy night.
They intended making an earlyish start this morning, though they had promised to wait until her family and his mother came to wave them on their way. And they were to call at Claverbrook House.
It was his grandfather's eightieth birthday.
Oh, goodness, what if everyone was already downstairs waiting for her to wake up and dress and make herself look respectable? Whatever would they /think/ of her? What sort of a wedding night would they imagine she had just spent?
Would they guess the truth? But /of course/ they would.
Oh, dear, she would die of mortification.
She was about to throw back the covers when the door opened. 'If I were a proper lady's maid,' Duncan said, stepping inside the room, carrying a tray, 'I suppose I would have anticipated the exact moment of your waking and would have had your chocolate steaming beside your bed and your curtains drawn back so that you could see it when you opened your eyes. I am not a proper lady's maid.' He set down the tray on the table beside her bed. It held two cups of chocolate and four sweet biscuits on a plate. 'I would hire you anyway,' she said, drawing the covers up to her chin, 'but Ellen would be out of employment and I would miss her. I daresay you cannot dress hair as well as she does, anyway.' He sat down on the side of the bed. He was dressed, but only partially – in pantaloons and a shirt that was open far enough to reveal the light dusting of hair on his chest. His hair was damp. He was freshly shaved. He was looking solemn and black-eyed – but he had joked with her. And she had joked back. And he had brought her chocolate and biscuits.
They were such little things, but they warmed her heart on this, the first day of her marriage. The wedding day was over. So was the wedding night. 'I feared I had slept half the morning away,' she said. 'Which,' he said, 'would have been a marvelous compliment to my skills.
But instead, you are awake and it is still early.' Oh, he was still joking with her. It felt so very strange to have a man in this room, into which even Stephen had scarcely ever set foot.
Her husband. It had a new reality today. Yesterday he had been her bridegroom and she had viewed him through all the euphoria of the nuptial celebrations.
Today he was simply her husband.
They had had relations three separate times during the night. The second time must have lasted an hour or more. She had had no idea that the female human body had so many places that could be aroused almost to madness. She had had no idea that the marriage act could consist of more than just preliminary kisses and the entry and the swift ride to release – to the man's release, that was.
She had had no idea that a woman could find release too – a total and mindless abandonment to … Well, to pleasure. There were actually no words to describe the experience. 'A penny for them,' he said. 'For my thoughts? Oh, nothing,' she said, but her cheeks were hot, and she knew she was blushing. Per haps within the next few days she could become very blasГ© about all this. 'If you are going to lie there,' he said, 'with the covers clutched to your chin, you are not going to be able to drink your chocolate, Maggie.
That would be a shame. It smells delicious. You are shy this morning?' 'No, of course not,' she said.
But he looked at her and cocked one eyebrow, and she really had no choice now but to prove it by lowering the covers to the tops of her breasts. But if she sat up … And then he did what he had done in the drawing room last night. He laughed deep in his eyes while his face remained perfectly serious.
She lowered the covers to her waist and turned her head to look at the tray. The chocolate really /did/ smell good. 'This is most unfair,' she said. 'You have had time to dress.' 'You had an equal opportunity,' he said. 'But
