“I don’t lie, Clarice.”
“But never…” It was incomprehensible. “Do you mean to say that if I don’t want it, you will never do it at all?”
“Aye.”
She struggled up on her elbows to better see into his eyes. He truly looked sincere. And he’d never given her cause to distrust him. She felt a flood of relief, mixed with wonder and a rush of deep affection. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off one of his shoes. “I don’t think it will come down to never, though,” he said conversationally. “I reckon that not too long from now you’ll be ready.”
“Maybe,” she said doubtfully, not wanting to argue. “In a few years.”
“Or perhaps a few days.” His second shoe hit the floor, and he shifted on the bed to look at her as his long fingers went to work on his cravat. “Or hours.”
Her elbows slid out from under her, and she lay flat, staring up at him. His eyes darkened. Thinking of the way he talked—when your body trembles all over from longing—made the heat rush to her cheeks and her mouth go dry.
She licked her lips. No man had ever talked to her like that. In fact, her first husband had never talked in bed at all—he’d either yelled or taken his pleasure in stony silence.
Cam leaned across her to place the cravat, neatly folded, on the oak chest. When he dipped his head to brush a kiss over her lips, a little whimper rose from her throat. She wasn’t quite sure whether it was a sign of fear or longing.
“Hush,” he soothed, and sat up. In a businesslike way, he slipped his hands behind her neck and unclasped the pearls. They glistened in the candlelight as he slowly laid them on the chest with a series of soft clicks. “Do you like your wedding present?” he asked.
“Pardon?”
He was already removing her shoes. “Your wedding present. The pearls.”
She gasped, and it wasn’t only because his hands were moving up her stockinged legs. “But…when? How? I thought they were borrowed. It’s too much—”
“Don’t be silly, Clarice,” he said, plucking off a garter. “Lady Leslie should own a nice set of pearls.” The second garter joined the first on the floor. “Did you know your new cousin Amy is a jeweler?”
“Amy? Oh, you mean Lady Greystone? Yes. She gave Mary a locket for Christmas.”
“Well, she asked a mere pittance for those pearls. Having a jeweler in the family proves to be mighty convenient.”
The thought of lords and ladies as family made her head spin. Or maybe it was his fingers slowly rolling her stockings down and off, making her toes curl and her skin tingle.
Will had never touched her with his hands, only with his fists.
Leaning on his forearms, Cam moved over her with a gentle smile. “I promise I won’t do anything you don’t like.”
He smelled like soap, and he felt warm, and because she believed him, his weight on her was more comforting than frightening. “Anything?”
“Anything. For now, I’ll just kiss you.” He cradled her cheek with a hand and skimmed his thumb over her lips. “You like kissing, aye?”
“Aye,” she breathed. “I mean, yes. Kiss me. Please.”
When his mouth met hers, she let herself slide into the sensation, feeling perfectly safe and content. She trusted him, and he’d said he wouldn’t do anything she didn’t like.
She definitely liked kissing him.
She still wondered that a man’s mouth could be so soft. And when it turned firmer, more insistent, she liked that, too. He tasted spicy and sweet, like the wine that had flowed freely at the ball. When at last he lifted his head, she looked into deep, hazel-blue eyes filled with love, and knew their expression mirrored her own.
“Cam,” she whispered on a tender sigh, and pulled his head back down.
His lips trailed down to press a soft, shivery kiss in the hollow of her throat. “Do you like this, love?”
“Mmm, yes.” It was a wonder that a kiss, not even on the mouth, could feel so good. She began to tremble.
He was making her tremble all over.
Lud, it was just like he’d said it would be…
This, Clarice thought later, was more than a fairytale come true. Making love. It was the perfect—the only—way to describe it. In Cam’s arms, her old world had melted away, replaced by a new and wondrous existence brimming with shining promise.
Across the room, the last candle sputtered and died. Pressed together in the darkness, as close as two people could be, their hearts beat a matching rhythm. She reached for his face and took it between her hands. His cheeks were slightly rough beneath her fingers, just enough to remind her that, incredible though it seemed, this breathtaking man was real, and he was hers.
And it was glorious.
“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you for who you are, and who you’ve magically made me to be.”
“It isn’t magic, love. Or if it is,” he mused, his words warm against her lips, “it’s simply the magic of the two of us together.” He fit his mouth to hers in a long, languorous demonstration.
“Together,” she whispered back when they finally settled down to sleep. Never had she imagined that word would apply to her and a man. But from this moment forward, it did.
For a year and a day and forevermore.
THANK YOU!
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Next up is Kendra’s story in The Duke’s Reluctant Bride. Please read on for an excerpt.
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