Page 81 of Wed By Proxy

“This won’t be gentle,” he growled in her ear. “I’m too far gone for that consideration right now.”

“I don’t care,” Mathilde answered recklessly. His hands were at his crotch, unfastening the ties there, shoving down his breeches. Mathilde sobbed with relief when he slid between her thighs. She clasped him to her.

“Yes, Guy!” she urged him on.

He swore again, and if she wasn’t so ready for him already, the way he shoved inside her would have been brutal. As it was, they both immediately stilled. “Mathilde?”

“All’s well,” she panted, grasping his shoulders. “Hurry!”

“Gods,” he whispered, and started moving. She could feel him struggle to loosen his hold on her hip and shoulder, to pull his powerful strokes, but he was too far gone.

“This won’t last long,” he gritted out against her neck.

She felt his teeth lightly graze her neck, his ruthless possession of her body. But already his desire was transferring to her, setting her on fire once more with need. She moaned, wrapped her legs around his hips and dug her heels into his buttocks, meeting his brutal thrusts with her own.

Guy shuddered. “Ah, love,” he groaned. “Don’t let me hurt you.”

“You’re not,” she insisted breathlessly in his ear, but he paid no need.

“Let me just—” He started to turn his shoulders, as though to roll them, and surrender his dominant position.

“No! I want it like this!” she panted, twisting to resist his attempt to switch. He was so much bigger and stronger than she, she could never stop him reversing their positions if he truly wanted to.

“I’m being too rough,” he said, sounding panicked as he continued to thrust into her almost frenziedly.

“No! You’re not!” she protested. “I like it. Please, Guy! I need it.” Mathilde sank her nails into his back like little claws, and watched his eyes roll back in his head.

“Ah gods!” he groaned. “I can deny you nothing…” She felt his body tense, on the verge of explosion and suddenly, his hand was at her jaw, forcing her gaze up to meet his.

“Mathilde?” he said urgently and looked like he was trying to form some other words, before his jaw gritted, and he stopped even trying. His whole body trembled, and she felt her own grip his in fevered anticipation. Suddenly he collapsed onto her with a loud roar. His furious release triggered her own, and Mathilde convulsed around him as he came, and came hard. It rolled over them like a wave, sweeping them under the dangerous current, to oblivion.

She wasn’t sure how many moments later, he grabbed her nape and mashed his lips to hers in a bruising kiss, which gentled as it went on. Mathilde luxuriated in the feel of his hard body over hers. Never before had he given her his full weight, or the full fury of his lust. Tearing his mouth from hers, he took several great gulps of air, before moving to withdraw from her. Mathilde had to stifle her protest as he rolled off her to lie quiet a moment, staring up at the ceiling.

“You little witch,” he said thickly after a couple of minutes had passed and they had both caught their breath. “How the hells am I meant to part with you for four days now?” He reached across, tilting her chin so he could look into her eyes. “You’re sure, I didn’t hurt you?” His eyes were alight with concern and something else. Tenderness.

She shook her head, then looked at her own bloodied nails. “No, but I think I…”

He twisted to look back over his shoulder, then surprised her by giving a short laugh. “You’ve scored my back, little she-cat.” He leaned down and kissed her again lingeringly, his large hand at her waist. Mathilde allowed herself to return the soft pressure of his lips.

When he drew back, his eyes were alight again and he looked a different man, refreshed and ten years younger. Did I have that effect on him? She wondered dazedly.

“Mathilde,” he whispered, “wife,” and kissed her again, sweet and gentle this time, his tongue stroking against hers eager and coaxing.

Again, she let him, tangling her tongue against his, letting him draw it into his mouth. His hand slipped around to her back, cradling her to him. Reluctantly, he drew back at last with a soft groan.

“You know I wouldn’t go now, if I wasn’t honor-bound.” His eyes were seeking something from her. Permission? Nay, never that. Understanding? She said nothing and saw that pained him.

Swallowing the knot in her throat, Mathilde turned her face away from his searching gaze. Carefully, he cupped her cheek and stroked it with his thumb. She wasn’t going to cry, she thought blinking back tears, as he moved away. The rustle of the bedclothes told her he was rising and righting his clothes to leave. Suddenly, she knew she couldn’t let him go now without speaking.

“I don’t want you to go,” she admitted croakily, then took a deep breath. “But if you must, then I want you to take the opportunity to get that jewel back off Lady Julia. The Martindale ruby brooch.”

He froze in the act of fastening his tunic, and expelled a breath as though astounded by her sheer effrontery. “I can buy you a dozen rubies, Mathilde,” he said his voice hardening.

She folded her arms across her breasts. “And I would refuse them all!”

His brows snapped together. “What did you say, wife?” He took a step toward the bed. “That you would continue to flout me in my own house?” His voice rose to a bellow at the last few words, doubtless waking anyone sleeping down this wing of the house.

“I don’t want your dozen rubies, Guy,” she answered him loudly, her volume rising to match his.