Page 69 of More or Less a Countess
Violet’s arms tightened around his neck in protest as he slid his hand out from under her skirts. He’d only meant to kiss her gently, to reassure her, not to attack her like an animal. For God’s sake, she was his wife now, and as soon as they retired to their bedchamber at the inn he could take her in private, as many times as they both wished.
Surely he could wait another few minutes?
They were both panting, and she was gazing at him with such an adorably confused expression it took all of Nick’s self-control not to snatch her back into his arms. “I, ah…I nearly forgot I was a gentleman.” He offered her a sheepish smile. “Carriages seem to have that effect on me now.”
Her cheeks went even pinker, and she let out a soft laugh that was so charming, and so utterly unlike anything he’d ever heard from her before, Nick couldn’t prevent a rush of masculine pride, and he found himself grinning back at her like a besotted fool.
He was going to make love to her tonight, and when they were both sated and she was lying in his arms, he was going to dream about her smile, and that flirtatious little laugh. Tomorrow he would make her laugh again, and for every tomorrow afterwards, whenever that laugh was on the edge of her mouth, he would catch it on his lips.
Chapter Seventeen
“You’ve hardly touched your dinner, Lady Dare.”
Violet jerked her head up, but when she found her husband’s warm gaze fixed on her she lowered her eyes at once and resumed pushing her food from one side of her plate to the other. Every time she met his darkened eyes across the table her belly leapt with nervous anticipation.
Dear God. She’d been anxious enough when she wasn’t certain what would happen when they retired to their bedchamber. The tension between them, the awkwardness of the wedding ceremony, and his anger over her deception—it was enough to make any young lady dread her wedding night.
But the tension between them had dissipated when she’d begged for his forgiveness, and he’d so graciously offered it in return, and then there’d been all the kissing, and touching, and now, well…whatever interest her husband had in dinner had given way to his interest inher. He was twirling the stem of his wineglass between his long fingers, those smoky gray eyes of his fixed on her as if he were anticipating another kind of feast altogether.
Now she was quite certain shedidknow what would happen when they retired to their bedchamber, and she was more nervous than ever.
Not that she hadn’t imagined this moment. She had imagined it, more times than she dared to admit even to herself. But now it was here, and he wasthere, and somehow his shoulders looked broader than they ever had before, and his chest and arms more powerful, and wasn’t there just the faintest hint of ferocity in the curve of his lips? And soon he wouldn’t bethereat all, buthere, and…well, it was rather overwhelming.
“May I pour you more wine, my lady?”
His low, rough voice teased along her nerve endings, and a shiver shot up Violet’s spine. “No, I—no, thank you.”
“Are you ready to retire then?”
He sounded…eager. Violet risked another glance at him and found him watching her, one corner of his full mouth curved in a sensuous grin as he studied her flushed face, and her belly quivered with a delicious ripple at the hot look in his gray eyes.
Nick had ordered their trunks brought up and unpacked while they dined, so when they retired to their room, all would be ready for them. The sheer white nightdress her sisters had chosen for her would be laid out on her bed, and—
No. Notherbed.Theirbed.
“Lady Dare? I asked if you’re ready to retire.”
Not just eager. Impatient. Dear God, that poor flimsy nightdress would be reduced to shreds. Violet’s hand trembled as she laid her fork beside her plate. “Yes, my lord. I’m ready.”
“There’s no need to look so terrified, Violet.” He smiled, and his warm hand covered hers. “I’m not quite the animal you seem to think I am.”
Violet bit her lip. Perhaps not, but hedidhave very large hands.
His voice dropped to a low rasp. “I promise I’ll take exquisite care of you, sweet.”
Violet swallowed. He’d never been anything but gentle with her, and she knew he’d never hurt her, but she might have felt more reassured by his words if his tongue hadn’t curled around the word “exquisite” with such sensual promise.
Neither of them spoke as they made their way up the deserted staircase to the bedchamber, but Violet shivered again at the heat of his body close behind her, his warm breath on her neck, his hand brushing against her hip as he reached around her to open the door, and—
“Oh!” A young maid with her hair scraped back into an enormous white cap was standing at a table by the fireplace, but she whirled toward the door when they entered, and dropped the papers she held in her hand with a guilty flush.
“I beg yer pardon, my lord.” She bobbed a quick curtsy. “I were jest readying the room for ye.” She began to sidle away from the table, her gaze darting toward the open door. “Ring if ye need anything else, aw right? Good night, my lord. Yer ladyship.”
Nick raised an eyebrow as the door slammed behind the maid. “What was that all about? She scurried away like a pack of wild hounds was after her. Are we so menacing as that?”
Violet glanced around the room, but nothing seemed to be amiss. Her white nightdress had been draped over the coverlet, as she’d expected, and the small trunk Bridget had packed for the one night’s stay at the inn was lined up neatly next to Nick’s at the end of the bed. It didn’t look as if anything had been taken, but the girl had clearly been anxious to escape—
“What’s this?” Nick strolled over to the small table near the fireplace, where the housemaid had been standing when they came in. It was likely placed there for private dining, but now it was covered with dozens of papers that looked as if they’d been hastily shoved into an untidy pile.
