A Night With the Bride (5 page)

“Tell me—” With the tip of her finger, she outlined the ropes of muscle that lined his stomach. “Is making love always that exquisite?”

He cupped her breast with his large hand, his thumb brushing across her nipple, then back again. “No,” he said. “It most certainly isn’t. I believe we’ve found something quite rare.”

“I believe you are right.”

His hand fell to her flat belly, smoothing over the sensitive skin just below her belly button. “I want to come inside you again, and again, until you’re dripping with my seed.” He found her entrance, and swirled his finger around the sensitive nub. “I want you to scream my name until your throat is raw.” He pushed his finger into her and she instantly grew wet all over again. “I want to fuck you in every possible position, taste every inch of your body…”

Sweet heaven, could she do this again? Her body came alive once more under his touch. He shifted, pressing his hard shaft against her thigh. “Yes,” she breathed, bucking against his hand.

But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough.

W
ith a low chuckle, he flipped her over so she lay prone on the bed. Gripping her hips, he pulled her up onto all fours, the curve of her sweet little arse nestled against him. She was glorious, her skin smooth like alabaster, her long blonde curls spilling over one shoulder, exposing the gentle slope of her spine, the flare of her generous hips.

She was perfection.

I accept you exactly as you are.

Her words rippled through him, swelling in his chest. From the moment he caught her gaze across the crowded parlor, he’d known that she was the one. Her laugh, her smile, spoke to him on a deep, intrinsic level.

With one, fluid thrust, he entered her. Slick, welcoming heat gripped him like a fist and they groaned in unison. She felt so good, so damn heavenly, he wanted to stay buried inside her forever.

“Oh, Nicholas.” Her hands flexed, then fisted the coverlets. She kept her face pressed to the mattress. Trust. Submission. She gave both to him willingly, without question, and it made his heart soar.

With deep, measured thrusts, he pounded into her from behind, his fingertips digging into her hips. She was wet for him, and so tight; he couldn’t remember it ever feeling so good, so exquisitely right. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold on.

She moaned, and it sent him over the edge, into the wide yawning abyss. Tension gripped his ballocks, which then released in a flood of violent pleasure. Hips jerking forward, he came hard, his cock pulsing, his seed pouring into her wave after glorious wave, until he’d filled her sweet little cunt.

More than anything, he wanted to stay like this forever—his cock buried inside her, her sweet, intoxicating scent filling the air, clinging to his skin…

Gently, he pulled away. He walked to the washbasin, wet a washrag, and brought it back to her. She’d flipped over and was now lying on her back, her pink lips pulled up into a smile.

One hand on her knee, he spread her thighs and drank in the sight of her. “Is it wrong that I want to leave you this way, smelling like me?”

“Yes, I would object most adamantly. I happen to hold hygiene in the highest regard.”

“Then perhaps I should leave my mark on you.” He lunged at her with a growl and nipped gently at her neck. She squealed in delight as a small, decorative pillow connected with the side of his head. He fell over onto the mattress, feigning injury. “You’ve wounded me.”

“Aw.” She leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his temple. “Better?”

“Not nearly.”

Sitting up, the cloth still in his hand, he smoothed it over her, and gently cleaned away the signs of their lovemaking. When he was done, he cleaned himself off, and then threw the cloth onto the floor. He cupped her left breast in his palm and brushed his thumb over the pink, pearled nipple.

She pushed his hand away and smiled. “My maid will be along soon.”

Dipping his head, he nipped the sensitive flesh just beneath her ear. “Is that your way of asking me to leave?” He bit the column of her neck, which earned him a little yelp of surprise. “I must confess, Miss Weatherfield, I feel quite taken advantage of,” he teased.

She laughed, a sweet sound that made his chest swell. “Oh, indeed?”

He shifted off her and fell back against the pillows, one hand over his heart. “You’ve used me ill.”

She rolled half on top of him, draping her leg over his middle. “In truth, I believe I’ve used you quite
well
.” She pressed a quick kiss to his lips, then sprang from the bed. “My maid will be up shortly to fit me for my gown for this evening.”

Her
gown
.

The ball. Nicholas had almost forgotten. It was the last night of the house party, and Leventhorpe had invited the whole damn county. “I’m sure you will look ravishing.”

She’d snatched up a blanket from the chair and wrapped it around her body, sorting through various gowns in her wardrobe. She whipped around with a startled look. “You
are
going, are you not?”

“I don’t attend balls.” Not anymore. Anxiety never ceased to grip him in large crowds, and it would be entirely too easy to lose control. “Or any social events, for that matter.”

“But…” She gripped the blanket tighter. “But tonight will be our last night together. You
must
be there.”

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and strode over to her. She looked so disappointed, so forlorn, it shifted something in him. It squeezed his chest unbearably tight. “You are going to be my wife, Gabriella. We’ll have countless nights together.”

“Yes, but we aren’t married yet, and who knows when we’ll see each other again? Please say you’ll come.” She looked up at him, her eyes full of trust and acceptance. “For me.”

“You only want to prove you’ve won your dare.”

Her eyes widened. “You knew about that?”

He smiled. “You and your friends are anything but quiet, love.”

She bit her bottom lip and shrugged. “Well, would it be so bad if everyone were to see us kiss? You’re going to marry me, after all. All the
ton
can talk about is how mad you are. We might as well give them something new to talk about.”

Attending the ball would be nothing short of torture, but he couldn’t bring himself to deny her request. Truth was, she made him feel whole, grounded, and he wanted the world to know she was his. A scandal would mean a hasty wedding, which fit into his plan nicely.

Reverently, he brushed his thumb across her plump lower lip. With her, he felt as if he could conquer anything. “Well, then, how can I refuse?”

She beamed up at him and the world, everything but her, melted away. “Thank you.” On tiptoe, she kissed his cheek. “You won’t regret it.”

He smiled tightly. God, he hoped she was right.

“Well,” Mary said from beside her, looking out over the crowded ballroom. “How are things progressing with your duke? Has he kissed you yet?”

Heaven, if only Mary knew. A kiss had been only the beginning. But to reveal that now, even to a friend, seemed like a betrayal to everything she and Nicholas had shared. Instead, she shrugged and took a sip of her punch. “Perhaps.”

Mary’s eyes widened as she took in Gabriella’s meaning. “He isn’t mad, then?”

He was mad, certainly, but she would never risk his reputation by admitting it—even to Mary, who was as trustworthy as they came. “He is perfectly sane, I assure you.”

She smoothed her gloved hands down the silk skirt of her emerald-green gown and glanced around the room anxiously. He said he’d come, and she believed him, but there was a hidden part of her that wondered if he’d just said that to please her.

Then she saw him.

He stood across the ballroom, his back turned to her with James at his side. Even from behind, he cut an impressive figure. Tall with sandy-colored hair, the cut of his black tailcoat fit his muscular frame to perfection.

And he was
hers
.

“Pardon me, Mary.” She didn’t wait for her friend’s reply as she made her way across the ballroom with a single-minded focus. She stopped directly behind him. “Your Grace,” she said, breathless.

He turned to her and smiled. He was resplendent in his black coat and breeches and she was momentarily rendered speechless.

But his smile quickly faded as his gaze swept down the length of her, taking in her gown. Her heart stopped. Didn’t he like it?

“Green.
Christ
, Gabriella.” With a look of fury, he immediately began brushing his hands down his forearms, one, then the other, then again, and again, until his movements grew clipped and angry. He turned away from her, as he continued to brush his hands down his forearms, as though he were attempting to wash something away.

On instinct, she reached out to him and touched his shoulder. “Your Grace?”

He wasn’t listening. He was far too engrossed in counting, brushing off his arms, warding off the vile thoughts he’d described to her earlier.

Her heart ached for him and she smoothed her hand down his arm to try and calm him. It made little difference.

Gradually, all eyes shifted to him. But he was beyond rational thought, beyond any help she could provide.

Out of nowhere, his sister and valet, appeared at the duke’s side. Gabriella stepped back to give them space, the feeling of helplessness nestled in her breast. The valet murmured something to Nicholas and attempted to lead him away. Then, Nicholas lost control. With a low growl, he shoved his valet away from him, causing the man to careen backward into a clutch of guests.

“Stay away from me!” he snapped, moving toward the door.

Gabriella followed him down the corridor, down the stairs, and into the library. Once inside, he snatched up the porcelain tea service and smashed it against the bookcase. Shards of porcelain flew in every direction.

“Nicholas, please stop.”

He whipped around at the sound of her voice, his eyes slightly wild, the breath sawing from his lungs. “My mother wore a green morning dress the day she was taken.” He paced, back and forth in long, clipped strides, clearly attempting to keep his gaze turned away from her. “I was with her when they came, when they grabbed her forcibly and dragged her away. I couldn’t stop them,” he said, his voice tight. “I couldn’t help her.”

Her heart broke for that scared eight-year-old boy. “I’m so sorry, Nicholas.” She stepped forward cautiously. “But that’s over now. Your mother is at peace.”

He stopped, head down, his back still turned to her. “A green gown is an omen of something awful to come. It fills me with a sense of dread that I simply cannot shake.”

She glanced down at her beautiful emerald gown and suddenly understood the reason for his outburst. “There isn’t a gown on earth, green or otherwise, that has the power to shift our fate.”

“I know that.” His fist connected with the wall beside him. “Damn it, I know that.”

For a brief, flawless moment, he’d fooled himself into believing he could build a life with Gabriella, filled with love, children, joy. It had been only an illusion, nothing but a goddamn fantasy.

“I can’t do this. I can’t put you through this.”

Still turned away from her, he couldn’t see her face, but he could hear her slow intake of breath.

“What are you saying?” she asked quietly.

A dull, throbbing ache gripped his heart and constricted his lungs. “I cannot marry you.”

“Nicholas—”

“I won’t have you shackled to a madman all your life.” The misery his father had endured, married to Nicholas’s mother, came roaring back with stark clarity. He wouldn’t see Gabriella suffer that same fate. “You deserve better.”

“So you are giving up,” she said flatly. “Taking the coward’s way.”

He stiffened at her accusation. “The coward’s way.
Christ
, Gabriella, this is tearing me apart. I’d give anything to be with you, but I can’t put you through this.”

“And what of your sister?” she said. “Do you plan on abandoning her as well?”

“You speak as though this is what I
want
.”

“You are surrendering, Nicholas.”

“God, I’m
saving
you, Gabriella.” It ripped his heart out to send her away. The pain of it was nearly unbearable. But it must be borne. He would not shackle her to an uncertain fate. He
wouldn’t
.

“And if I don’t wish to be saved?”

He turned and looked at her then, his gaze colliding with hers. “I’m not giving you a choice.”

G
abriella fumed. He dared to presume what she wanted or needed? “I’m a woman full grown, Nicholas. You have no right to make this decision for me.”

He raked a hand through his hair and turned away. “You don’t know what you’re saying, what you’re asking of yourself.” He turned back around and faced her. “When the madness claims me fully, I will be a monster—violent, untrusting, angry. I will see evil in everything.” He paused, his eyes locking with hers. “Even in you.”

Gabriella’s heart constricted. He’d meant to strike fear into her, but he’d managed to do quite the opposite. Just the thought of him fighting this battle alone, without her, gripped her heart and squeezed hard. She couldn’t possibly walk away, not now, not after everything they’d shared. The very idea made her stomach twist painfully.

She stepped forward. “I’m not afraid, Nicholas.” She took his large, warm hands in her own. “We can’t live our lives in fear of something that may never happen. We must live, fully, and take each day as it comes. Together.”

He swallowed, his hands tightening around hers. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Of course you don’t.” She smiled. “There are few men who would, I imagine.”

With a low growl, he pulled her into him, her front colliding with his chest. He was all hard-sculpted muscle, and the feel of his powerful body pressed against hers made her blood instantly heat.

When he spoke, his voice was rough, heavy, “I shall endeavor to deserve you, Gabriella.”

She tilted her chin up, so she looked directly into his sharp blue eyes. “Show me.”

His gaze fell to her mouth, and reaching up, he brushed the pad of his thumb across her lower lip. Then he kissed her, hard and deep, like a man possessed. His tongue twined with hers, opening her up, demanding everything.

Abruptly, he broke the kiss and stepped back. Untying his cravat, he pulled it free and tossed it aside. His jacket, waistcoat, and shirt were next, leaving his upper half completely bare to her hungry gaze.

He was built like an Adonis, smooth, flawless, and utterly breathtaking. Muscles lined his stomach, and she itched to brush her fingers across every enticing sinew, taste every rope of muscle with her tongue.

Keeping his gaze firmly locked on her, he unbuttoned his breeches and let them fall around his ankles, then lowered himself into the nearest chair. “Come here,” he said, low and wicked.

She stood paralyzed, unable to tear her gaze away from the erection that stood long and thick between his legs. He was exquisite, and she needed him inside her, like nothing she’d ever needed before in her life.

Stepping forward, she swept his cravat off the floor, and held it up. She smiled sweetly, one eyebrow lifted. “Do you trust me?” she asked, echoing his words to her the first time they’d made love.

His eyes locked on the cravat, and he started to rise. “Gabriella—“

She placed her free hand on his chest, halting him. “Trust goes both ways.” Skimming her hand across his chest and over his shoulder, she moved behind him. “Your wrists, please.”

He lowered his head and pushed out a heavy breath. For a moment, she thought he might refuse, but after a moment, he brought his hands around the back of the chair. She tied his wrists together securely and smiled to herself.

He was relinquishing control, something she suspected he’d never done before, and it made her feel special.

Walking back around to face him, she kneeled and placed herself between his thighs. His erection stood stiff between them, and she reached up, tentatively tracing the engorged tip with her finger. He was smooth, hot, and a little bead of moisture formed at the tip.

He sucked in a sharp breath through is teeth, and his muscles bulged as he struggled against his restraints. She snatched her hand away. “Have I hurt you?”

“Gabriella.” His vice was rough, strained. “I need to be inside you.”

The hunger and desperation in his voice unhinged her.

Standing, she rucked up her gown and straddled the chair. She placed one hand on his chest as she slowly lowered herself, he tip of his erection just skimming her hot, moist center.

“
Christ
,” he hissed, his head dropping back. “You are so fucking wet for me.”

As he thrust his hips upward, his arms straining to pull free of his bindings. She gripped his shoulders, and her nails bit into his skin as he stretched her, settling impossibly deep.

“Move your hips,” he said. “Forward and back.”

Tentatively, she did as instructed, gliding her hips back and forth, until she found a slow, sensuous rhythm that rubbed her in precisely the right way. Tilting her head back, she moaned. “You feel so good inside me.”

That was when he snapped. Violently pulling his wrists free of the knots, he growled and brought his hands around to grip her backside. He guided her hips in a rough, wild tempo that sent her spiraling, cascading into a wide yawning abyss of sensation and pleasure.

Nothing existed except them, this moment, their bodies locked together in the most elemental way possible. This was right.
He
was right. It was always meant to be him—her strong, wounded duke. Love curled around her heart like a fist and squeezed.

With one hand, he released her backside and threaded his hand through her neatly coifed hair, then pulled her down, claiming her lips in a hot, greedy kiss as he continued to guide her hips, thrusting deeper, deeper with each breathless movement.

“God, Gabriella,” he rasped. “I can’t…” His words melted into low, guttural growl as he pushed into her, hard, fierce, shoving her over the edge, into oblivion.

All the pleasure and torment came to a fine point inside her body then exploded outward the very next second. Waves of hot tremors washed over her, filled her, spreading throughout her limbs.

The very next moment, he thrust impossibly deep and stilled, hands gripping her hips through her gown with such force, she feared she’d bruise. He tilted his head back, his eyes closed, and a deep, feral growl escaped his throat.

After a moment, she moved to get up. He tightened his grip. “No,” he said, his voice drowsy. “Not just yet. I just want to feel you a moment longer.”

Warmth spread through her, and without severing the connection between them, she rested her head on his shoulder. Contentment filled her. She was happy, and in this moment she felt whole.

He placed a kiss on her forehead. “It looks like you won your dare, after all.”

Gabriella’s heart swelled. “Indeed, I have. In more ways than one.”