Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

" The god of love stood before her, radiant and divine, yet humbled by the strength of his love for her. "

Lucius Apuleius, Metamorphoses

H er lady's maid unbuttoned her bodice while Madeline huffed in impatience. Simon was in the next room, and he was sure to be disrobed far sooner than she. Finally, the gown was loose, and she wiggled out of it so that it dropped to the floor. It was quickly retrieved to be rehung.

Banking her frustration, she waited for her stays to be loosened, leaning down to untie her garters and remove her stockings. Miss Moreau brought over her best night rail, and helped her put it on. Soon the servant brushed her hair out and cleared all her things away, departing the bedchamber to leave Madeline fidgeting nervously as she tried to decide what to do next.

Mama, Henri, and Uncle Reginald had remained in the family drawing room downstairs. They wished to chat over tea, they had said, but Madeline was grateful to realize her mother and sister were delaying their retiring to their bedrooms in order to afford Simon and her some privacy, and Uncle Reginald was taking advantage of some leisure time with Mama.

A knock on the door made her flinch, startled at the loud interruption. She licked her lips, realizing the moment of truth had arrived and discovering she was unexpectedly reluctant to take this final step.

"Madeline?" His deep voice sent a shivering thrill chasing along her nerve endings to settle as a quivering sensation in her lower belly.

"One moment, please?" She winced at the alarm evident in her shrill tone. She had imagined this moment for longer than she could remember, but now that the moment had arrived, she?—

A low chuckle emitted from the other side of the door. "Let me in, fair Psyche. This will be easier if we are in the same room."

Madeline bit her lip. She had not anticipated how nervous she would be. Perhaps waiting for this night for such a long time had built it up to agonizing levels. But Simon was her best friend, so perhaps she should let him in.

She crossed over, reaching out to turn the handle, then flinched at the crack of the latch disengaging. Cracking the door open, she peered up at him. He was dressed in a colorful banyan with loose-fitting trousers, the column of his throat and clavicle bared to reveal that he wore no shirt beneath the robe.

Simon's gaze dropped with appreciation to take in the curve of her bosom, returning to stare deep into her eyes. The blueness of his irises drew her in as she drowned in their depths. How was it he had his mother's eyes, but his were so warm while Isla's had been as icy as a glacier?

Madeline shoved the memory of the murderous baroness aside. The terror of Lady Blackwood had passed, and she was determined to be present in this moment with Simon, as soon as she recovered her courage.

"I have dreamt of this night."

It took a moment for Madeline to realize it was not her own thought, but something Simon had declared out loud in a mellifluous baritone.

"Me, too …" she admitted in a tremulous voice.

"Then … may I come in?"

She swallowed hard and stepped back to allow him in before shutting the door. "I was not expecting to be so shy."

Simon flashed a wide smile, revealing a pearly slash of teeth. He approached her slowly, bending his head to brush a kiss against her mouth. Madeline exhaled in sweet pleasure, her fears dissolving as she drew in his male fragrance of shaving soap, coffee, and leather. A muscled arm wrapped around her waist, drawing her in so that her soft curves were pressed against his hard body before his lips found hers again in a drugging kiss. His tongue found hers and tangled in hungry abandonment.

He was firm and hot as her arms stole up to encircle his neck, her head falling back to accept his ardor. Sensation fired up, rising from between her thighs to engulf her in flames as she kissed him back with all the love she had for him, had always had for him. Their kiss continued as Simon reached down to swoop her into his arms, striding over to the canopied bed.

Lowering her onto the counterpane, Simon dropped his knees to the floor so that they were at the same height when he raised his head to gaze at her with adoration.

"Is this real? Am I dreaming? Will I wake up to learn you are still in Scotland?"

Simon gave a crooked smile. "I am here and I am never leaving. I regret how much time I wasted."

Madeline reached up, her amber eyes enchanting him despite the desire raging through his starving body. She touched his cheek. "You are here now. We are together."

"Thank you for waiting for me. I thought I could let you go. Watch you marry another man, but I think—I think it would have killed me." It was the truth. Madeline was his best friend. How could he have considered a lifetime of estrangement? He was a fool to have allowed his parents to convince him to leave her behind.

She stared up at him, biting her lip and reaching up to clasp the back of his head. Pulling him back into a kiss, she whispered, "It is in the past."

Their mouths fused together, and Simon drowned in the vortex of fantasy realized, breathing in the scent of orange blossoms, savoring the taste of fruit upon her tongue, while he settled his touch on her waist. Slowly it glided up until he cupped one of the full breasts that had tantalized him these past years. He growled in approval at the firm roundness against his palm, as Madeline's head fell back. She moaned, arching into his palm in invitation as he glanced down to be nearly unmanned by the sight of his tanned hand plumping the cotton-covered globe.

Without conscious thought, he released his grasp so his mouth found its way to the hardened pink jutting against the thin fabric. Painting her with his tongue, he lost all sense of time as she undulated against him, keening as she gripped the counterpane in agonized pleasure.

Simon gripped the hem of her rail, yanking it up with impatience until it was gathered around her narrow waist as he continued to suckle on her heated flesh. Rising, he divested her of the garment to reveal the beauty of a goddess before him. She was curves and shadows. Her breasts, bountiful and pert, beckoned like a siren's call, but his gaze dipped lower to find her rounded hips, then settled on honey-blonde curls that shielded her womanhood from his eyes.

"You are more beautiful than I imagined."

His lips found the fragile skin of her nipple, and soon she was mewling like a kitten as she tried her best not to howl out loud. Simon swirled his tongue around and over, savoring the sweetness of his love and shifting to the neglected breast. She quivered and shook beneath him until he settled onto the bed over her to paint a path down her creamy abdomen. As he approached her lower belly, she bucked, and he swiftly sank lower to lash his tongue against her cleft and taste her essence. Her thighs fell open in invitation, her hips rising as he explored the swelling folds with the tip of his tongue. Hearing her passion mount up, while his own lust gathered to make him harder than he had ever been, he swiped his tongue over the pearl at the apex of her crease.

Madeline's commitment to keeping quiet broke as she squealed her tortured ecstasy, but Simon continued mercilessly to lap at the sensitive nub until the waves of climax broke across her dainty form.

Slowly, she sank back onto the mattress as he rose above her to take in her dazed expression. Amber eyes flickered open, amazement reflected in their depths as he lifted himself off the bed.

His fingers tugged at the knot before he cast his robe aside without regard to where it fell. Madeline gazed up at his chest in curiosity, and he realized she was cataloging the condition of his muscles. The sculptor in her was clearly fascinated by his masculine form.

"You are Eros," she declared in admiration, her eyes falling to the bulging front of his cotton trousers which were tied at the waist. "That is new."

Simon looked down at his hard length tenting the fabric and burst out laughing. "All that art you studied did not include any …" He winced, seeking an appropriate word.

"Erections? They did not."

He shook his head, shuddering with suppressed mirth. Madeline was such a strange mix of innocent and worldly because of the work she did.

"Are we going to finish this?"

"No longer nervous?"

She licked her lips. "I suppose … it is time?"

He grinned, divesting himself of the cotton trousers to move back to the bed. Her eyes dipped with fascination to his engorged shaft, but he was done waiting, so he moved to stretch over her, capturing her mouth in a searing melding of lips and tongues as he settled between her legs.

Taking hold of his cock, he guided himself to her slick entrance to tease her until Madeline's legs parted to wrap around his hips. With one decisive motion, he buried himself in her quivering heat as she hissed in brief pain, coming to a halt while she grew accustomed to him and panting at the discovery that paradise was being wrapped within her warm clasp.

Seconds ticked by and then Madeline gyrated against him. It was all the invitation he needed, reaching out an arm above her head for support as he began to thrust into her tight sheath over and over again, and she moaned and undulated beneath him. He could feel her passion mounting in new waves, so he slid his free hand between them to toy her into new peaks of pleasure. As he felt the quiver of her climax, he lost control to reach new heights of sensation hitherto unknown before spending in an agony of ecstasy.

After Simon had collected a cloth to clean the two of them, he lowered himself into the bed and drew her into his arms. Madeline cuddled her head into place beneath his chin, listening to the sound of his heart thudding within his rib cage.

"Are you well?" he drawled as one who was heading toward sleep.

"Very well. Can we do that every night?"

His chest heaved beneath her cheek in a huff of laughter. "We can try."

"Will there be a scandal, do you think? Your mother expired a few weeks ago, and now you have wed in the middle of the night."

"That is probable, but I think news of one of the renowned Bigsbys marrying a Scottish viscount will be the bigger event. The other will fade away."

Madeline considered this, trying to determine what she thought of it. "I suppose I do not care as long as we are together."

"Forever, fair Psyche."

It was at that moment when Madeline caught sight of a small sculpture of Eros sitting on a side table, positioned to stare toward the garden—their garden. It was the one she had carved for Simon more than a decade earlier, and this was not a dream. They had finally united, and he was here to stay.

They fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms, and Madeline was the happiest she had ever been. All their troubles of the past receded into nothing as the longed-for future of her dreams began.