Marriage - Married In Haste Part 15

Her hair covered her face. But her mouth was open and from it came a soft snore.

Brenn stared at her, unable to believe that she had pa.s.sed out on him. He shook her. "Tess?"

She didn't wake.She wouldn't wake, either. He knew the drowsiness of too much champagne. She'd sleep like the deadfor hours.

What a b.l.o.o.d.y fool he was! He sat up, wondering if his dreams for Erwynn Keep were worth shackling himself to her. He had no desire to be one more man ruined by the antics of a fickle woman.

And if she thought she'd escape consummating this marriage, she was mistaken.

Tess woke in stages. There was light. At first she thought it was morning, and then realized it was the flame of four candles burning brightly on the table in the corner of the room. Squinting, she looked away.

Her mouth felt like she'd been chewing her shoes. She wanted a drink of clear, fresh water. Anything to erase the taste.

What time was it?

She began to remember. The wedding. Her wedding. She'd been nervous. They'd married and thencome to the house. She had visions of herself sipping champagne. She'd never had a head for wine. Nowonder she felt so miserable.

She was still wearing her dress...but the laces were undone. It was night. She knew that now-

"Good evening," Brenn's low, gravelly voice came from across the room.

She turned her head. He sat in the circle of light dressed in his fancy dress breeches and white lawn s.h.i.+rt.

He'd removed his neckcloth.

Tess looked down and was almost embarra.s.sed to see that he wore no shoes. The sight of his toes though the white silk stockings was disturbingly intimate. She'd never been in the presence of a man so casually dressed.

With almost meticulous precision, he refilled his brandy gla.s.s from the bottle on the table beside him.

She hesitated a moment before asking, "Did we marry or did I dream it?"

"We married." He drained the brandy gla.s.s.

"Oh." Tess watched him warily. She wanted to ask if the marriage had already been consummated.

However, taking a quick mental inventory of things, she decided they had not. Certainly she didn't feelany differently than she had earlier, other than having a wine headache.He answered the question for her. "We haven't done it yet."

She didn't need to ask to know what "it" he meant. And they still had yet to do "it."

Anxiety caused her stomach to knot. "Excuse me," she murmured, fearing she would be sick. Practically crawling off the bed, she stood. The world spun and then settled. She hurried to disappear behind the small privacy screen modestly set up in the corner of the room. Over the top of it hung a nightdress of the finest white lawn and lace. She was to have worn it to her marriage bed.

It was embarra.s.sing to see to her needs with him sitting on the other side of the screen, listening to her every move. She used tooth powder and then wiped her mouth with a fresh linen towel. Her hair was a tangled mess. She used her fingers to comb it since her silver brush set was on the vanity across the room.

Tess pinched her cheeks for color. She was sure she looked as haggard as she felt. Worse, she'd muddled everything and probably made a fool of herself. If only she could remember!

At last, she could postpone facing him no longer. She stepped out from behind the screen.

He still sat in the chair where she'd left him. His features in the flickering light could have been carved from stone. She squared her shoulders bravely, wondering what to say.

No sound marred the silence between them, not even the ticking of a clock.She was the first to break the silence. "The wedding party is over." The words sounded stupid."It ended several hours ago," he replied without emotion."The guests left early?""It's two or three hours before dawn. The party lasted a good long while."She didn't remember when she'd fallen asleep, but it had still been daylight. "Have you been sitting in that chair for hours?" Her voice squeaked on the last word, betraying her fear. She cleared her throat andcontinued, "No wonder you don't seem pleased with me. You could have used one of the otherbedrooms-"

"Tess, come here."

The quiet command almost made her heart stop. She eyed the brandy decanter. It appeared half-empty.

Neil grew boisterous when he drank. Obviously, Brenn didn't. In fact, he seemed almost deadly calm.

"Come here, Tess," he repeated in a deep, silky voice.

She took a first hesitant step in his direction. Her feet felt like iron weights. One step. Two steps.

She stopped.He set the brandy snifter on the table. "Not there, Tess. I want you here, in front of me."She licked suddenly dry lips. He seemed a far cry from the man she'd married."Here, Tess." He pointed to a s.p.a.ce on the carpet before him.She moved forward. He leaned back in the chair, watching her, waiting. She stopped where he'd indicated. Her toes were no less than six inches from the edge of his chair, his legs on either side of her."Undress."She gasped, not certain she'd heard him correctly."Undress," he repeated calmly and then added with a slight twist to his lips, "Tess.""You can't be serious?""I am.""But...I-I..." She paused, at a loss for words."I'm your husband. Undress."She considered defying him. Considered stamping her foot in childish rebellion or bolting from the room.And yet, there was something deliciously sinful in his command, too.Nor was she one to cry coward.She tossed back her hair. Then, her movements unsteady, she reached behind her and started to finish unlacing her dress. He didn't offer to help. Instead, he watched, his face expressionless.Her fingers shook as she drew out the last of the laces. The bodice of her dress loosened.Their gazes met.She knew what he wanted.Almost defiantly, she shrugged and let the bodice slip down over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He didn't move. She drew a deep breath, and the lavender satin fell to the floor, pooling around her feet.

No man had ever seen her thus. A part of her felt shame, while another part, deep inside, experienced a

surge of pride. She was a beautiful woman. Poems had been written about her. Men had scurried to do her bidding. Women were jealous.

But Brenn Owen, the earl of Merton, her husband, didn't blink.

Worse, her nipples tightened and pressed against the thin material of her chemise. She wore little else but

her petticoat and stockings. Her face burned with the heat of a blush, but she refused to cover herself. It was a war of wills now, a test.

And she was winning.

Where before there had been blankness in his eyes, there was now hunger-and the watchful wariness of

a wolf at bay.

Conscious that he followed her every move, she brought her hair forward to cover her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She then slid her hand under the strap of her low-cut chemise and pushed down first one, then the other. It took courage-and a sense that her time had come, that she was now on a path that every woman had to travel to pa.s.s from girlhood to womanhood-for her to pull the material down to her waist. Behind the curtain of her hair, her nipples tightened so hard they hurt.

Brenn did not move. "Go on."

"You want to see me completely humbled, don't you?" she snapped waspishly. It wasn't right that her body s.h.i.+vered with antic.i.p.ation, with excitement, and he could be so calm.

Almost angrily, she pulled at the ribbon tapes fastening her petticoat to her chemise. First one, then another and another until she'd come to the last. With a dramatic gesture she untied it and her petticoat and chemise dropped to the floor over her dress.

She stood before him naked, save for her white silk hose tied at the knee.

She felt ridiculous. It took all her courage to not cover the most intimate part of her body with her hands, to not run and hide.

The silence between them was unbearable. It taunted both of them.

She lifted her chin, refusing to be a coward. "Are you happy now?" she goaded him. "Have you looked your fill? Here." She flipped her hair back, exposing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "Now you see all of me."

His answer was a low, deep growl. He shot up out of the chair, the movement so swift, she didn't have time to react. His arms wrapped around her. The b.u.t.tons and seams of his clothes scratched her skin. His lips covered hers.

She had thought his previous kisses pa.s.sionate but this one was carnal, devouring, hungry...and she kissed him back, unsure of what else to do in the sensual onslaught. He tasted of brandy and yet there was the hint of something, something unique to him alone. She opened herself to him, wanting more.

His tongue teased hers. With a happy sigh, she received the intimacy. His hands cupped her b.u.t.tocks and pressed her to him even as he lifted her and began walking toward the bed. He broke the kiss.

She shook her head in an attempt to clear her befuddled senses. But before she could, he laid her on the bed. The cotton bedclothes felt smooth against her skin. And then he covered one nipple with his mouth.

"Brenn!" The word burst out of her in surprise. The heat of his mouth against her flesh made her skin tingle all the way to the woman's part of her.

Who could have imagined this? He licked and gently pulled and she felt his touch down in the deepest, most secret parts. Yet when he started to draw back, she buried her fingers in his thick, dark hair and brought him back.

His rough, masculine hands traced the line of her body, down the curve of her waist, over her hipbone. Her legs had turned to jelly. Instinctively, she parted them and felt his hand boldly cover her. His fingers caressed her intimately.

Dear Lord, she would die from the pleasure of it! She gasped. She moaned. She feared it; she craved it. His lips sought her mouth again, smothering the small sounds she was making. This is too much! she thought. She shouldn't-he must stop-she never wanted him to stop!

Her body trembled beneath his touch. She hugged him close, afraid that she would fly straight up through to the ceiling if she ever let go of him.

Him. The world had ceased to exist and there was only him. If he had been a demon prince, he could

have possessed her soul at that moment and she would have done naught to stop him.

Abruptly, he slipped from her arms. She cried out and opened her eyes.

"Shhh," he whispered and pulled his s.h.i.+rt over his head. He threw it aside. The planes of his hard chest

were beautiful in the candlelight. He was her prince. Beautiful, bold, masculine.

His fingers unb.u.t.toned his breeches and then he pushed them down and Tess had her first glimpse of a

fully aroused male. She quickly averted her eyes, embarra.s.sed. Her hands moved to modestly cover her body.

He captured her hands and held them down by either side of her head. "Tess, look at me."

Her body still humming from the impact of his touch, she could not refuse anything he said. She opened

her eyes.

His expression fierce, he commanded softly, "Don't hide yourself from me. I am your husband. I and no other."

Wide-eyed, Tess nodded.

"Touch me." He said the command in the barest whisper.

Almost mesmerized, she reached out to brush her hand against what was most surely the stick Leah had

described. But it didn't look like any stick. It didn't feel like one either. It was hard, and yet softer than

baby's skin.