“I am terrified,” she whispered as she toyed with the buttons of his waistcoat. Her husband had unbuttoned his tailed coat hours ago. “I’m so excited and happy that I may be delirious. And that terrifies me too. Like my queen, I flee when startled and fly elsewhere when threatened. What I feel right now—is overwhelming.”
Gerard caught her hand and kissed the knuckles, then picked up the jewelry box and held it out. “I know I was hasty and arrogant in believing you feel as I do. But I do know it. You were the one who taught me to heed the energies people emit. And for that, I wanted to thank you.”
Uncertainly, she released her hold on his waistcoat to open the box.
“My pearls?” she asked uncertainly, smelling the love on the luminous beads, unable to believe it was possible. “You bought back my mother’s pearls?”
He closed the box and set it aside while kissing her hair and temple. “I had Max ask your sister. I hope I found all of them.”
Closing her eyes, Iona swayed, feeling almost as faint as her twin. She clung to his waistcoat and let the love well up inside her, a love she hadn’t felt in so very long. . . And still hadn’t the words to say. “I cannot thank you. . . It’s too much. Your reward money. . .”
“Money is not as important as convincing you that I am the best husband for you. I didn’t spend it all. I can patch the leaks. The library is safe for a while longer. I don’t know how else to show you that we will be good together.”
His hint of uncertainty pierced her heart. She wanted him to be confident that she could be his countess. “We are attuned to each other, my lord. I never doubted that.”
His waistcoat fell open beneath her fumbling fingers, and Iona tentatively flattened her palms against his hard torso, as she’d wanted to do so many times. She drank in his odor of integrity and desire, steadying her quaking nerves.
He covered her hand with his, letting their paired senses read the moment. “Your queen doesn’t flee your drones, does she?” He teased kisses across her brow and down her nose. His big hands encompassed her waist and found the ties for her train.
Drones, oh my. That was plain enough. “We’ve already performed our mating dance?” If they talked, perhaps she wouldn’t be quite so aware of the hard beat of his heart.
Her train fell to the floor. With shaky fingers, Iona unknotted his cravat and cast it aside so she might start on his shirt studs. She really needed to see his chest naked again. Joy and desire pushed aside doubt and fear.
“Is that what bees do? Perhaps this can be our mating dance.” He spun her around and nimbly started on the tiny pearl buttons at her back.
“A little less. . . primitive. . . perhaps.” She suppressed a moan as he let her bodice and chemise fall and released her corset ties.
She tried to grasp all the fabric falling off her, but with masculine strength, he spun her back around again.
Gulping, she fastened her gaze on her husband’s face as he unwrapped her like a gift more precious than her pearls. She was nervously left standing nearly naked from the waist up. Gerard’s worshipful expression reassured her, along with his scent of lust and. . . expectation? She thought he trembled as much as she did when he pushed aside her gauzy undergarments to lift her bare breasts from her underpinnings.
“I’m feeling very primitive.” His voice was a low rumble that stirred all her nerve endings.
He lifted her and put his mouth to the aroused crest of one breast. Iona cried out with the intensity of her need.
He kissed her then, kissed her with such all-consuming passion that Iona was scarcely aware when her gown fell off and the rest followed, all except the gauzy final garment.
But she was very aware when her bare shoulders hit the bed linen, and she looked up to see Gerard fling his shirt and coat to a chair.
Muscles rippled everywhere she looked, and she stopped breathing all over again. When he reached for his trouser placket, she had to force herself to study the bandage on his shoulder so she did not expire of fear and excitement.
Gerard had planned on seducing his bride with fine words and gentle caresses. He knew how to do those things, and Iona deserved all his attention for this night. He knew his duties didn’t often allow him the leisure for pampering a wife. But for one night—
And he was ruining it all. He was so desperate to touch her that he nearly ripped off her clothes. She was a virgin, but he’d suckled her breasts as if she were an experienced courtesan. He was fortunate his brave Iona didn't faint.
And now he had her flat on her back, those big golden eyes watching him as if he were Atlas, and she was a sacrifice to the gods. And damned if he didn’t feel like a god. If he revealed himself as aroused as he was now, she was likely to flee off the other side of the bed.
He leaned over to turn off the oil lamp on the bedside table. The candles might allow him to see the splendor of his bride—
Her delicate hands halted him. “Don’t. I want to see what passion looks like.”
“If you’ve seen animals, then you know it isn’t pretty,” he said gruffly, hoping to spare her.
“Animals don’t know desire. Or love. We just vowed to love one another. Doesn’t that start with seeing each other for who we are?” She caressed the bulging placket of his trousers. “If I can’t hide, neither can you.”
“I’m going to regret saying that for the rest of my days, aren’t I?” He pried off
