The Stranger I Married

poked wantonly through the silk and he rubbed his thumb over it, unable to help himself.

“Don’t stop!” she protested loudly, forcing him to cover her mouth with his hand.

“Someone is coming, love.” He waited until she nodded her understanding. “Do you know where my room is?” She nodded again. “I will be there shortly. Don’t dally. I will hunt you down if you do.”

Her eyes widened. Then she nodded emphatically.

“Go.”

Rhys watched her take a side path toward the manse and disappear from sight. Then he ducked behind a nearby vine-covered arbor and waited. It wouldn’t do for both of them to return to the house too closely to each other. Even if neither or only one were seen, it was best to be overly cautious.

“But to petition Parliament, Celeste?” came Lady Hammond’s voice from a nearby intersecting lane. “Think of the scandal!”

“I have thought of nothing but that for nearly five years,” retorted the dowager Lady Grayson. “I have never been so mortified as I was when they did not attend dinner this evening. Which was an excellent repast, I must say.”

“Thank you.” There was a long pause, then, “Grayson seems quite taken with his wife.”

“In only the most superficial sense, Iphiginia. Besides, she has no wish to be married. Not only has she proven that over the last four years, she has also said as much to me.”

“She did not!”

Blinking, Rhys thought exactly the same thing. Isabel would never say such a thing to Grayson’s mother.

“She did,” the dowager replied. “She and I have agreed to assist each other.”

“You jest!”

Good God! Rhys growled low in his throat. Bella would not be pleased when he saw her again. Damned if he wouldn’t be pulling her out of another scrape.

Waiting until the women moved further along, he then left his hiding spot and moved surreptitiously through the garden toward the manse, where sinful pleasures awaited him.

Abby paused a moment at Trenton’s doorway, wondering if one was supposed to knock before an assignation, or if she now had the right to just walk in unannounced. She was still debating this when the door flew open and she was yanked inside.

“What the devil took you so long?” Trenton complained, turning the lock and scowling down at her adorably.

Her stomach performed its little somersault again.

He was dressed in a burgundy silk robe, which revealed dark curling hair on his chest and hair-dusted calves that betrayed his nakedness beneath. With his arms akimbo, he was missing only the tapping foot to be a perfect picture of impatience.

Over her.

Her stomach flipped again.

How beautiful he was. What perfection! She sighed audibly. He was, of course, a bit hyperopic to miss her lack of physical charms, but she would not complain about that.

He reached for her and she sidestepped quickly. “Wait!”

“For what?” His scowl deepened.

“I-I have something to show you.”

“If it’s not you naked and writhing,” he grumbled, “I am not interested.”

She laughed.

She had watched him during dinner, noting his ready charm and droll discourse. The females seated on either side of him had been captivated, but she had felt his regard return to her often.

“Grant me a moment.” She arched a brow when he opened his mouth to protest. “This is my deflowering. Once we reach the bed, I will cede command of this affair to you. Until then, however, I would like the preliminaries to be under my control.”

Trenton’s lips twitched and his eyes sparkled with a heat that made her shiver with anticipation. If his behavior in the garden was any indication, he was going to devour her. “As you wish, love.”

Moving behind the privacy screen, she began to undress. This was not at all how she had imagined losing her virginity. There was no tender, patient husband waiting to treat her like fine porcelain. There was no ring on her finger or name attached to hers.

“What the devil are you doing?” he muttered, as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world and worthy of such avid interest.

He did have a way of looking at her that made her feel beautiful.

“I am almost done.” She had dressed in the gown that was the simplest to remove without assistance, but it was still a chore. Finally, though, she was free and prepared. Taking a deep breath, Abby stepped out from behind the screen.

“About bloody…” His words faded into silence as he ceased pacing and turned to face her.

She shifted nervously under the sudden overwhelming heat of his gaze. “Hello.”

“Abby.” Just one word, but it was filled with awe and pleasure. “My God.”

The fingers of her right hand fluttered nervously along the low neckline of her red gown. “My mother was blessed with a larger bosom, so I am afraid I cannot do the garment justice.”

Trenton approached with his innate elegant grace, his cheekbones flushed, his lips slightly parted on rapid breaths. “If you did any more justice to that garment, I would be on my knees.”

Blushing, she looked away, relishing the flutters she felt as he drew closer and then touched her gently. “Thank you.”

“No, love,” he murmured, his voice husky and deep, rippling down her spine. “I thank you. I cherish the gift you are giving to me.”

With a finger beneath her chin, he angled her mouth and fitted his lips to hers. The kiss started softly, but quickly built until his mouth was slanting feverishly over hers, stealing her breath, making her dizzy. She quivered against him and was caught close to his hard body, lifted, and laid upon the bed.

Then he was everywhere. Stroking, kneading. His fingers tugging, pinching. His mouth wet and suckling. Nipping teeth. Hoarsely voiced words of encouragement and praise.

“Trenton!” she begged, certain she would die as her body shuddered with longing he seemed determine to stoke, but not appease. For all his impatience earlier, he was not rushed now.

“Rhys,” he corrected.

“Rhys…”

Unsure of what to do, what to say, she could only touch his shoulders, his beautiful hair, the straining and sweat-dampened length of his muscular back. What a work of art he was, his body able to arouse her just by sight. All men were not as blessed as he was and she knew she was beyond fortunate to share her bed with such an incomparable masculine creature.

“Tell me how to please you.”

“If you pleased me any more, love, we would both regret it.”

“How is that possible?”

“Trust me,” he murmured before taking her mouth and sliding his hand up from the back of her knee to her hip. Before she could protest his fingers were parting the lips of her sex.

He groaned as his touch slipped through the slickness that gathered there. “You’re dripping.”

“I-I’m sorry.” She felt herself blush to the roots of her hair.

“Dear God, do not be sorry.” Rhys came over her, nudging her thighs wider. “It’s perfect. You are perfect.”

She wasn’t. Not nearly. But the reverent way he touched her told her that for the moment at least, he truly thought she was.

Because of this, she bit her lip and held back her sobs as the broad head of his cock breached her, then pierced her and stretched her unmercifully. Despite her resolve to be a lover he would enjoy, she struggled.

Rhys pinned her hips, held her in place, slid inexorably into her. “…Hush…a little more…I know it hurts…”

And then something inside her made way for him and he was seated fully, a thick throbbing presence.

His palms cupped her cheeks, his thumbs brushed away her tears, his mouth worshipped hers. “Little one.