They played well into the night, nearly evenly matched in wins and losses. For a few moments Dorothea wondered if Carter was allowing her to win, but she soon rejected the idea. He was too competitive, but more important, too respectful of her to treat her like an inferior and contrive for her to win.
The clock chimed the midnight hour and they both looked at each other in surprise, startled to realize how quickly the time had gone. Carter suggested one final hand, which he won. They gathered the cards, folded the gaming table, and snuffed out the candles.
As she glided across the room, Dorothea realized her supper dishes had been cleared and the small table where she had eaten her meal returned to its rightful place in the room. Goodness, her attention had been so focused on the game, and her husband, she had neither seen nor heard the servants perform this task.
They started climbing the main staircase, and Dorothea searched for the words to tell him that she did not want tonight to be like all the others. She did not want to go to her bedchamber alone. She wanted him to come with her.
Yet when they reached the landing, her stomach tensed and her tongue failed. She pressed the heel of her hand to her chest and tried to ease the tightness, the panic. But it would not fade.
Seemingly unaware of her dilemma, Carter followed his usual nightly routine. With a pleasant smile, he lifted her hand to his lips and gently kissed the inside of her wrist. “Good night, Dorothea. Sleep well.”
He turned away. Her heart leaped.
Letting out a small cry of distress, she reached out and caught him by the sleeve of his jacket. He looked down at her hand, then up to her face, his expression puzzled. It was now or never. “I would like a proper kiss, please,” she said. “If you don’t object?”
Dorothea’s heart raced as she felt the tension in his body markedly increase. Lifting her other hand, she slowly traced the curve of his jaw with her fingertip, hoping to encourage him.
He cocked an eyebrow. “The hallway is a drafty place for a proper kiss.”
There was an undercurrent in his voice that sent her pulse racing and her fear galloping. Dorothea’s resolve began to unravel.
She turned herself into him and slid her hands up the front of his jacket. “My maid always makes certain there is a warm fire in my bedchamber.”
He tilted his head and considered her. She was struck by the force of his gaze and braced herself for his rejection. He had been playing a sensual game of cat and mouse with her for the past five days. She knew he desired her. But she did not know the rules of his game. She did not know if part of their play involved him controlling the situation. It was therefore prudent to be prepared for any eventuality, though in truth Dorothea knew she would feel devastated if he walked away from her now.
“I am not a saint, Dorothea. If we retire to your bedchamber, there will be more between us than a few heated kisses,” he declared.
“I should hope so,” she answered in a deliberately demure tone. “So, will you come with me?”
He slowly lowered his face to hers. The brush of his lips was whisper soft, yet filled with deep longing. The emotion behind it staggered her senses. “My God, Dorothea, I thought you would never ask.”
She swayed into him as her knees suddenly gave way. He laughed, a deep, sensual sound that further weakened her legs. Holding her tightly against his strong body, Carter half carried, half dragged Dorothea to her bedchamber. He dismissed the curious-eyed Sarah with a curt nod, then closed and locked the door.
The air was charged. The room warm. The silence deafening. Dorothea felt aware of everything around her, yet was incapable of forming a coherent thought. But tonight was not for thinking. Tonight was for feeling.
She placed her arms around Carter’s neck. Then, standing on her toes, she molded the curves of her body against his, lifted her chin, and kissed him full on the lips. The flame, now struck, quickly flared into a sensual fire.
Carter stroked his tongue slowly against her lower lip and she eagerly parted for him. As he deepened the kiss, he tugged at the pins in her hair. A cluster of her golden tresses tumbled down her back, and he searched for the remaining pins.
At the same time, Dorothea reached for the knot of his white cravat. Their arms bumped and tangled awkwardly. They stopped, regrouped, then tried again, achieving the same result.
“We seem to be working at cross-purposes,” Carter grumbled. He took a step back. Smiling, he loosened the knot of his cravat, yanked the linen strip from his neck, and dropped it on the floor. “Your turn.”
Dorothea’s breath caught. Slowly she removed the remaining hairpins, tossing them on her dressing table. Carter’s jacket went next, followed by her shoes. His waistcoat for her stockings. Her jewelry for his shoes. His shirt for her…
“Gown,” he said softly. “Remove your gown. Please?”
She swallowed. Did she dare? “I can’t release all the buttons down the back.”
“Turn around.”
His hoarse voice rasped along the edges of her nerves. Dorothea closed her eyes and did as he bade. His touch was gentle but the warmth and pressure of his hands weakened her knees even further. When the last button was free he stepped away. Slowly she pivoted around to face him.
His seductive eyes shimmered with something raw and brutal. They caught and captivated her. She could see how badly he wanted her, could almost feel the strain as he struggled to hold back his desire. Was she really going to do this? Her mind and pulse raced, knowing she was playing with fire.
Never one to give half-measures, Dorothea fought back her fear and lifted her chin boldly. She slid the sensual silk gown down one shoulder, then angled her body toward him as she did the same with the other. The garment fell off her upper torso, catching near her waist. Swaying her hips seductively, she encouraged the gown to fall further and it soon puddled at her feet.
Carter’s breathing grew harsher, his eyes darker. Heat flooded her at his reaction, yet she shivered mightily at the evidence of his growing passion. Without saying a word, he unbuttoned the fall of his breeches, shoved them and his underclothes down his legs in one quick motion, and kicked them off.
Dorothea’s teasing, playful attitude abruptly vanished as she caught sight of his lean muscles, broad shoulders, and full, jutting arousal. She peered under her lashes at him, her body flushing. His gaze roamed over her, lingering sensually on her breasts and at the shadow between her thighs, his mouth pressed in a hard, hungry line.
The scent of passion filled the air, crackling sensuously around them. Her fingers shook so badly she could barely untie the silk ribbon fastenings at the neckline of her chemise. Finally they gave way.
More silence. Dorothea’s heart pounded against her throat. She could see his eyes staring at every inch of her flesh and she wanted to turn and hide. Never had she felt so emotionally and physically exposed. It was anguish. It was ecstasy.
Carter could see her struggle. He waited. If she turned from him he’d most likely lose his mind and smash the room to bits, but it had to be her decision. He would not make love to her unless she believed she was ready.
Her body was perfection. He stared at the curves of her breasts, so full and round, remembering how they had filled his hands. His body ached with desire and still he waited.
A step. Just one small step. That was all he needed, for her to take a step toward him. Carter smiled wolfishly and held out his hand. Her cheeks reddened and he realized she had glanced down at his erection. His penis rose with great interest at her curious perusal. Dorothea’s eyes widened.
“You are even more beautiful than I recall,” he rasped.
“You’ve thought of me?”
The laugh that bubbled from his chest was more of a groan. “You have haunted my dreams and most of my waking hours for days, my pretty little wife.”
She moved her upper body forward, leaned only a fraction toward him, but it was enough. Enough to let him know she was ready. Carter scooped her into his embrace. He nuzzled her neck, kissed her throat, licked her earlobe. She let her head fall back, offering herself to him, and that simple act of surrender was his undoing.
The warm, womanly scent of her body filled his head as his mouth traveled lower. He licked her budding nipples with long strokes, then took the tips in his mouth and sucked. Dorothea moaned, then laced her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer.
He swept her in his arms and carried her to the bed. Dorothea felt the cool smoothness of the silk spread against her back. A sharp contrast to the hot, hard male body that covered her on top.
He looked deeply into her eyes as he caressed her body, running his hand smoothly down the flat of her belly,
