She wasn’t certain about anything any more.
God above, she prayed that no one ever learned the truth. Although most people believed that Mallencourt had been drunk that night and had fallen into the Thames and drowned, she didn’t know what had stopped any further investigations. Possibly her father had bribed the police. She had never asked, for she didn’t want to know. But the fear consumed her, that somehow, someone had witnessed Mallencourt’s arrival at her house and subsequent death.
She wanted to believe that it was over, that she was away from the danger. And yet, she couldn’t be sure.
Dalton had saved her from public humiliation at her own wedding, and he was so much more than she had known. She wanted to be a true wife to him, but she didn’t know if she could bury her past.
The warmth of his body comforted her, despite the evidence of his arousal. And the more she thought about his touch, a soft deepening of awareness slid over her skin. She wanted to feel his caress, to forget about the past.
It was a bold wickedness, for they were not truly married. She had put him off the wedding, not wanting to entangle him in the mess of her life. But now, she was beginning to believe she had been wrong about Dalton.
He left no doubt that he wanted her. But his endless patience made her wonder if she ought to reconsider. She no longer wanted to live in fear, and didn’t that mean facing her worst fear of all?
In the darkness, she could feel the warmth of his body against hers. Dalton’s hand was at her waist, and she wondered what it would feel like to have his palm upon her bare breast.
It was a risk, for Mallencourt had squeezed her breast roughly as he had shoved her against the wall. There had only been force when he had touched her, and she wondered what it would be like to have Dalton’s hands upon her skin. Perhaps it was a way to eradicate the old memory and replace it with a better one. The very thought sent a sudden thrill within her.
She reached for the first button on her nightdress, flicking it free. Then another. As she exposed herself, her heartbeat quickened. This was a test to see if she could bear his touch.
Slowly, she brought Dalton’s hand to her bare breast. The warmth and weight of his hand felt good, even as she wondered what she was doing. For a time, his hand merely rested upon her skin, and she was grateful for it.
Then he moved his fingertips against her and murmured, ‘Will you let me touch you, Regina?’
She closed her eyes, feeling the blush upon her cheeks. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. She had wanted to awaken him, but now, she didn’t know if this had gone too far. His thumb gently stroked her nipple, and it rose up from his attention. Deep between her legs, she felt a rush of sensation, as if he were caressing her there.
Slowly, with exquisite patience, he drew his fingers over her breast, encouraging the swollen bud. She gasped at the sensation, a restless feeling rising within her.
‘May I kiss you?’ he asked.
She turned her face to his, but instead of him capturing her lips, he lowered his mouth to her bare breast. The heat and gentle suction against her sensitive nipple made her grip his hair, arching in shock. A cry of her own arousal escaped her lips as he kissed her breast.
It was nothing like the night of her attack. Dalton worshipped her body, reverently swirling his tongue around her nipple. She grew wet between her legs, not understanding how he could make her feel so good. The incredible feelings rose and ebbed like a tide, and she needed more. Fumbling with the buttons, she tried to reveal more of herself, but he captured her wrists and pressed them back gently.
‘Allow me.’ His voice was husky, and he released her hands, waiting for permission.
‘All right.’ She closed her eyes, surrendering to his will. But he was gentle as he eased her nightdress from her shoulders, lowering it to her waist.
‘You are in command of me, Regina,’ he murmured. ‘If you don’t like any of this, tell me, and I will stop.’
She believed him. But she wanted him to know that she was willing to take the first steps towards reclaiming a normal life as his bride. ‘I’ll try not to be afraid,’ she promised. ‘Just...continue to go slowly.’
‘You have my word,’ he swore. Then he touched her other breast, fondling it as he had the first. She savoured the sensation, and he began to circle her nipple in a rhythm. He lowered his mouth to the second breast, while tracing the wet skin of her first.
Her breathing shuddered, and she wanted more from him—but she couldn’t understand what it was. He was driving her to the edge of a precipice, but she wasn’t ready to make love to him yet. Instead, he was evoking such a strong arousal, she didn’t know what to do.
‘Give me your hand,’ he ordered, and she did.
Slowly, he reached down and lifted the hem of her nightdress. His hand trailed against her calves, past her knees, to her thighs. And against her will, she began to tremble.
‘Relax,’ he bade her. ‘This will feel good.’
She tensed as he took her hand, holding it. Again, he kissed her nipple, suckling gently until the intense feelings made her breathing shift into soft moans.
Then he took her hand and brought it to the place between her legs where she was wet. His hand remained atop hers, and he drew his mouth to her ear. He suckled at the lobe, and a jolt made her shiver.
‘Touch yourself here while I kiss you,’ he ordered. ‘I want to drive away every memory of him. I don’t want you imagining his hands there any more.’
Her shock turned to embarrassment, for she had not
