Chapter Six

Well before they reached Rydleshire House, Nash yearned to take Sophie right there in the carriage. But he forced himself to behave. This would be his lovely swan’s first time. Christening their life together by taking her on the narrow bench of the coach would be immensely selfish. He had never struggled with restraint so much in his life, but he refused to put his wants above her needs. Especially since the infernal past still crouched between them like a snarling dog. He fully intended to tame that beast and convince it to be on its merry way, never to return again.

“Lady Sophie and I are very weary and wish to rest until time for our guests to arrive,” he informed the butler and housekeeper before the front door fully closed behind them. “Lady Rydleshire will be along as soon as Her Majesty allows it. All of us are quite certain you have everything under control. Please see that Lady Sophie and I are not disturbed.”

Thornton and his wife exchanged knowing glances. Nash detected the faintest of smiles from the two, but they quickly recovered their composure.

“Rest assured that we shall see to everything, Sir Nash.” Mrs. Thornton curtsied before hurrying away.

“Indeed, we shall,” her husband reiterated, then bowed and followed her down the hallway.

“Is there a modicum of subtlety anywhere within you?” Sophie asked him, her embarrassment palpable.

He loved the way her crimson blush made her decolletage even more tantalizing. He pulled her close and nibbled kisses along the silkiness of her shoulder. “We have limited time before the party. I intend to make the most of it, and standing in the hallway chatting with servants is not the way to do that.” He wrapped his left arm around her waist, took her right hand in his, and swept her up the stairs as though they were dancing. At the top, he halted. “I never thought to ask if our things had been moved into the master’s chambers.”

“Since the master has not yet officially died,” she said with an air of annoyance that almost made him laugh, “I suppose mine will have to do.” Her fiery red blush deepened. “Marie will help me out of my gown, and then I shall ask her to leave us. You may wait in my sitting room.”

“No, my swan.” He escorted her into her suite of rooms. “You shall excuse Marie until it is time to dress for supper. I shall help you out of your gown, your stays and petticoats, and any other article of clothing that happens to come between us. I hunger to undress you one layer at a time.”

She fanned herself again. “I need a very large brandy. Would you mind pouring while I inform Marie?”

“I would be happy to, dear wife. After all, this day calls for a toast.”

“Indeed,” she said with a nervous squeak that made him smile.

He crossed the room to a cabinet bearing several sizes and colors of decanters. As he unstoppered one and sniffed the contents, he noticed the settee that had collapsed beneath him had been removed and replaced with a sofa that appeared to be much sturdier. Good. Perhaps after this evening’s supper party, they might put that sofa to good use, if sweet Sophie was so inclined.

After he filled their glasses, a realization hit him, halting him with the bottle still raised. Gads, he wanted her with an unquenchable fury. More than he had ever wanted any woman before. Maybe it was her fire. Or her wit. All he knew without a doubt was that it wasn’t merely a physical need because of her stunning shapeliness, the perfect pout of her full lips, or the luxuriousness of her glorious red hair. It was more than that, something he couldn’t quite define. His precious Sophie was, for lack of a better word, incomparable in every way, and that was how he wanted her—mind, body, heart, and soul bound to him completely.

The bedroom door softly clicked behind him, and he turned to find her nervously chewing on her lip as she leaned back against it.

“Marie has gone and will not return until time to help me dress for the party.” She wrinkled her nose. “She was quite smug about it, too. Everyone knows what we are doing.” She rolled her shoulders and pinned him with a displeased look. “It is most unsettling.”

He sauntered toward her while holding out her drink. “Did you wish them to believe you intended to maintain your virginity?”

Her mouth flew open. “I cannot believe you said such a thing.” She grabbed the glass from him and indulged in a hearty gulp.

“We are husband and wife now, my swan. We can say anything to one another—whenever it is only the two of us, of course. I would never embarrass you by speaking in such a manner when we were not alone.” He lifted his glass. “To many years of happiness.”

With a sudden shift to a timidity he had never seen in her before, she lifted her glass as well. “To happiness. Many years of it.”

“Sophie.” He set his drink on a nearby table, took hers, and set it alongside it. With her hands in his, he gently pulled her closer. “You do not have to be afraid.”

“I am not afraid.” But her voice quivered. She cleared her throat and thrust her chin upward. “I am not afraid,” she repeated. “I am just…just…”

He released her and returned her brandy to her. “You are just afraid.”

“Yes,” she admitted quietly. Her forlorn look almost undid him.

Retrieving his own drink, he took her by the hand, led her to the sofa, and gently but firmly tugged her down to sit beside him. “I will never do anything to hurt you. Nor will I ever do anything you do not wish me to do.” He leaned closer, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “If you wish to remain a virgin until you are more comfortable with our situation, I will not lie to you and say that I’ll like it, but I will respect your decision. I would never force myself upon you. The choice is always yours.”

“But wouldn’t that cause you harm?” She appeared to be almost cringing.

He frowned, not quite certain what she meant. “It would not make me happy or at all comfortable, but it would not cause me any harm.”

She took another deep gulp of her brandy, glanced at the tightly closed hallway door, then inched closer to him. “But what about the risk of things falling off?” she whispered.

“Things falling off?”

She affirmed his question with a rapid nod. “I read it in one of Maman’s manuals. If a man does not—” She fluttered her fingers as if to help her find the words. “If he does not find his relief, certain parts of his anatomy risk becoming unattached from his person.” Concern shone in her ever-widening eyes. “I would never wish to cause you such harm.” She offered a sheepish tip of her head. “I know I kneed you there in a fit of anger, but I do not wish you any permanent damage.”

He clamped his mouth shut and held his breath to keep from laughing. After regaining enough control where he thought it was safe to speak, he took her hand in his. “I fear you are misinformed, my swan. While a man’s parts might throb so badly that they feel as though they are about to fall off, I have never heard of them actually doing so. At least not from the lack of coupling.”

“There are other reasons they might fall off?”

“Injury…disease… Might we get back to the subject at hand? I do not expect you to submit to me like some sort of—like someone who has no choice in the matter.” He rose to refill his glass, then turned back and held out his hand for hers. “More?”

She handed it to him. “Most definitely.”

As he poured, a tense pause filled the room, creeping up behind him like a fiend about to pummel him in the back of his head. “Speak your thoughts, Sophie. Your silence is deafening.”

She wet her lips as she accepted the drink from him. “Perhaps Maman’s books were not entirely accurate.” Her eyes slowly narrowed. “But Maman is not a fool. Why would she keep such books for me to find?”

He simply had to smile. “Perhaps she wished to keep her daughter innocent and untouched? Although, if you were the compassionate sort, her methods could bring her more trouble than good by your thinking you could save a man from losing his parts by allowing him to have his way with you.”

“Compassion has never been my strongest trait, and Maman knows it.” Sophie hung her head. “She knew I would think of it as a weapon.”

A laughing snort burst free of him. He couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“It is not funny.”

“Indeed it is, my swan.”

She took another deep drink of her brandy, then rose from the sofa and set it aside. With a boldness that thrilled him, she spun around and gave him her back as she started removing the pins from her hair. “Well?”

“Well, what?” The way her coppery locks cascaded down her back entranced him into a stupor.

“You promised to rescue me from this dreadful lace. Can you manage the buttons and hooks, or shall I call for Marie?”

He lifted the heaviness of her hair, draped it over the front of her shoulder, and allowed it to tumble out of the way. “I am quite able for the task, my sweetness,” he said while grazing his lips along her exposed back. He flicked his tongue across her skin while peppering a trail of kisses along her shoulders. “I knew you would taste divine.” A smile came to him as she shivered.

“And what should I do?” she asked in a breathy whisper. “I no longer trust those manuals.”

“Relax and allow me to adore you.”

“I see.” A surprised squeak escaped her as he undid the last of the buttons and opened the gown to make it fall away. She caught it to her chest as though suddenly loath to be free of it.

He stepped around and kissed her barely parted lips while burying both his hands in her hair. She tasted of brandy and breathless excitement, of everything he had ever wanted and more. When she opened her mouth wider and flicked her tongue to his, he almost groaned.

She released the dress and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, tiptoeing as she pulled herself closer.

He drew back the slightest bit and allowed himself to drown in her rich, dark eyes. “You are sure of this, my swan?”

The tip of her tongue raced across her lips, wetting them. She gave a quick nod. “I am.”

He swept her up into his arms, kicked the dress aside, and carried her into the bedroom. “I thought we might be more comfortable in here. At least at first.” This first time needed to be wonderful for her. He would allow nothing less.

“At first?” she repeated as he lowered her onto the bed and tugged off both her elbow-length gloves.

After pressing a kiss into each of her palms and along her wrists, he folded her hands across her middle and moved to untie her slippers. “Relax and allow me to adore you. Remember?”

“I am discovering that is easier said than done.” She shivered and squeaked again as he tossed her slipper to the floor and gently massaged her foot.

“You have the tiniest feet.” He removed the other slipper and slid his hands up her leg to the ribbon securing her stocking. “And the loveliest legs.”

“Your hands… I mean… Your touch is very nice.”

After removing her stockings, he gently took hold of her hands and helped her sit upright. “And now for the rest.”

A shuddering breath left her, making the swell of her breasts rise above the neckline of her corset in a way he could not resist.

But rather than bury his face in those luscious mounds, he forced himself to move around her and undo the laces of her stays. He tossed them aside, then eased her back into the pillows. While he preferred her completely bare to his gaze, he would leave her with her chemise—for now.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered between kisses.

“What about you?” She tugged on his jacket with both an exciting and endearing clumsiness. “I wish to see your beauty too.”

“Do you?”

“Most definitely.” She chewed on her lip again, drew in a deep breath, and huffed it out. “I have only seen a man unclothed in works of art.” Her head coyly tilted with the shyness of her shrug. “Is it wrong of me to be curious? Brazen or whorish?”

“I find it exciting that you are curious.” He shed his jacket and waistcoat after silently damning all the dratted buttons on the uniform. Neckcloth and shirt came next, but he paused and stood there bare-chested before removing his boots and pantaloons. The blush across Sophie’s cheeks was alarmingly bright.

“Sophie? Are you all right?” He sat on the edge of the bed and gently touched her cheek.

She blinked as though waking from a dream. “I…uhm…yes. Forgive me, but you are nothing like the statues or paintings.”

He hoped that was a good thing in her opinion. “Should I be insulted? Do you find me lacking?”

She reached out and touched his chest as though she feared it would burn her. “Your muscles. The way you are sculpted, dusted with…with all that golden hair.” Both her brows arched higher. “You are quite…”

“I am quite what?”

“Nice,” she whispered, and wet her lips as though hungry for him. “Very, very nice.” She puckered the perfect rosiness of her mouth and blew out a long, slow breath. “Might you make sure the window is open as wide as it will go? I am finding it quite warm in here. Is it not so to you?”

“Yes, my swan. Quite warm, indeed.” He smiled to himself as he did as she asked. Before returning to her, he removed his boots, then slowly unbuttoned his falls while walking toward her. “Would you like to remove your chemise so the air might cool your skin?”

With her eyes large and dark and her lips barely parted, he at first thought she meant to refuse. But then she sat up and swept the garment off over her head, arching her back as she did so. Now, he was the one struck speechless. A breathtaking woman while clothed, she was a stunning goddess in the nude.

“I never knew such beauty existed.” His voice had gone hoarse with need. Gads, if he didn’t dishonor himself by spilling his seed before he even reached the bed, it would be a miracle.

“Thank you.” She tucked her chin and offered him a shy smile. “Might I see the rest of you?”

Her curiosity was the strongest aphrodisiac he had ever experienced. His gaze locked with hers as he let his pantaloons drop and kicked them aside.

Her eyes flared open wider. “Oh my.” She pressed a hand to the base of her throat. “How will you… How will it…?”

He climbed into the bed and eased her into his arms before she could finish. “Trust me,” he whispered as he kissed his way down her throat, along her collarbone, then circled her hardened nipple with his tongue. He sucked it ever so gently while cupping her other breast and pressing the hard length of himself against her.

She arched into him while tangling her fingers in his cropped hair and holding his head tight to her chest. She drew up one of her legs, wrapped it around him, and squeezed. A breathless moan escaped her, encouraging him to treat her to even more.

He cupped her buttock and squeezed, then allowed his hand to slide to the back of her thigh, where his fingertips grazed back and forth across her slickness as he kissed his way lower.

“Oh my.” She writhed beneath him as he ran the tip of his tongue down the flatness of her stomach toward the lovely reddish-blonde nest of curls between her thighs. “Surely you do not mean to—”

“Shh, trust me.” He throbbed with the need to take her, but forced himself to be patient, to be strong. She needed to be properly readied to fully enjoy this union. As he suckled the nubbin of her sex, he slipped a finger inside her heat.

She clutched the bedsheets, making him smile while still enjoying the taste of her and plunging his finger in and out. Her hips moved in time with his touch, rocking against his mouth with ever-increasing abandon. He slid another finger in alongside the other and sucked her nubbin harder. She was so close. Then her hot wetness tightened around his fingers, and she screamed. As she crested with her bliss, he hugged her tightly and kept his fingers buried deep inside her. When her spasms slowed, he kissed his way back up her body.

She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him between taking in great gulps of air. “I will never not trust you again,” she rasped.

“I am glad to hear that, my swan.” Bloody hell, he needed to bury himself in her, but gads, he had to be patient. The pain when her damned maidenhead ripped still stood between them. He kissed her deep and long, dying to be inside her. When he lifted his head to warn her of what was to come, she silenced him with a finger across his lips.

“I want you…where you are supposed to be,” she said in a breathless whisper. “Frannie and Celia told me it’s merely a little sting at first, and after that, it is quite nice indeed.”

“It is quite nice indeed.”

She hugged her legs tighter around him and rose to meet him. “Then take me. Show me more of these lovely feelings, my delightful cob.”

“Gladly, my precious pen. Gladly.” He pushed into her tightness, then forced himself to pause. “Breathe and try to relax, my love.”

Instead, she wiggled, torturing him with her delicious wetness. “More,” she urged. “I will relax later.”

Gads, if she only knew. He shoved in deeper still and paused again.

“Oh my,” she gasped. “So much…fullness. Why do you keep stopping? Is that how it’s done?”

“No, my swan. Not at all.” He drove in and fully buried himself, shuddering as he struggled for control. After a tender kiss, he rose enough to look down at her. “All right?”

She rocked her hips, slid her hands down his back, and squeezed his buttocks. “The sting is already gone. Please do continue.”

“Happily.” A groan left him as he worked his hips with a slow, steady rhythm. The ancient need to fully possess her and claim her for his own burned ever hotter, as his lovely bride became more breathless by the moment.

“Oh my, I do like this,” she said, matching him thrust for thrust. “Faster. Harder.”

“As you wish, my lady.” He pounded with the ravenous urgency he had felt since the carriage ride home.

She dug her fingernails into his back and unleashed a delighted moan. “Yes!”

He growled and drove harder as her wet heat clutched him. Relinquishing the last of his control, he threw back his head and let free a roar. Spasms racked him as he spilled himself until completely drained both emotionally and physically. Exhaustion slumped him, but he locked his elbows to keep from crushing her. He rained kisses across the curve of her salty-sweet neck and shoulder and reveled in her wonderful softness beneath him. The way she still clutched him made him consider telling their soon-to-arrive guests to enjoy supper without them. He and Sophie would remain here.

Her pounding heartbeat barely tickled against his chest as he hovered above her. With an insistent tug, she pulled him down on top of her. “I want you pressed against me,” she said with a breathless, purring giggle. “You feel so very nice this way.”

He treated himself to a long, slow kiss and realized he had not felt this contented in a long while. “This is better than nice, my darling Sophie. Much better.”

As she gazed up at him, her smile slipped the barest bit.

A surge of dread shot through him. “Stay with me here in the present, Sophie. Please do not let the ghosts of the past come between us again.”

She barely shook her head. “It’s… It is not that at all. I was just thinking we shall have to get ourselves sorted soon. After all, we must be ready to greet our guests.”

She was lying. He couldn’t very well accuse her of such, but he could see it in her eyes. Those same dark shadows of vulnerability and sadness she possessed whenever she lashed out about his mean-spirited ways of the past had returned. Damn his hide for being such a cocksure fool. If he had only treated that awkward young girl with kindness and consideration, how would that have changed things now?

He gently smoothed the wispy tendrils back from her face, wishing he could repair the damage between them in the blink of an eye, but knew it to be impossible. His only hope was that, in time, she would come to trust him and believe he would never hurt her again.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“For what?”

“You honored me with this moment, and I shall cherish it always.”

She frowned as she touched his cheek. “You speak as if this is the only such moment we shall ever have. That there will never be another like it.”

“Every moment we share is a rare and precious jewel that will never have another like it.” He kissed her forehead, lingering for a long moment before lifting his head and looking back down at her. “I know that now. I just wish I had known it years ago.”

The corners of her eyes flinched as if he had raised a hand to strike her. She cleared her throat and forced a cheerfulness he easily saw through. “I should ring for Marie,” she said. “It will take a while for hot water to be brought up. Shall I have her tell Thornton to send a footman to your rooms with some for you as well?”

He pushed himself up from the bed and started gathering up his clothes. “Yes, my swan. That would be most appreciated.” Her gentle dismissal stung him to the core. She had hoisted her shields to protect herself—from what, Nash wasn’t quite sure, but he knew he was at the center of it. A heavy sigh escaped him as he yanked on his pantaloons.

“Nash?” She sat there in the center of the bed, the linens modestly clutched to her throat, seeming almost worried. “Did I not perform my wifely responsibilities correctly?”

Her words chafed him, made him clench his teeth to keep from growling a response that would not be kind or appropriate. He ambled toward her as he buttoned his falls. “You could not have possibly performed your responsibilities, as you put it, more correctly except for one minor thing.”

She frowned. “And what was that?”

“You were not performing wifely responsibilities, nor was I claiming husbandly rights.” With his hands propped on the bed, he leaned across it until his nose was within inches of hers. “We made love, Sophie. We joined our bodies and consummated our union for all eternity. That is what we did. Not fulfilled duties, responsibilities, or rights. We did not have relations or sex, or commit the marriage act. We made love and shared an unforgettable bonding.”

A coldness fell across her, almost like a mask of impenetrable serenity he could never hope to breach. “It was very delightful, but love cannot be manufactured,” she said, “and I do not believe we should call something love when it is not. Either it flows from your heart and soul or it doesn’t. You made it abundantly clear earlier that we might become friends rather than the enemies we have always been. Friends is what you said, Nash. Not two people in love with one another.” Her pensive gaze squeezed his heart in a merciless grip. “We are better served being honest and not calling something love when it is not. Do you not agree?”

“Why are you doing this?

“What?”

“You know damn well what.” He caught her by the shoulders and pulled her closer. “Why are you pushing me away after what we just shared?”

She stared up at him, her dark eyes deep pools filled with shadows. “I will never allow myself to love you again. Not under any circumstances. We shall be friends and work together to capture the blackmailer. That is all we shall ever be.” With a gentle touch to his cheek, she offered him a sympathetic smile. “Why are you behaving this way? You have never loved me.”

At that moment, confronted with that accusation, Nash understood without any doubt that he would come to love her with an all-consuming fury. But now was not the time to tell her. No. Now was the time for war, the time to battle for her heart and force her to love him again. “I simply did not appreciate your defining our marriage bed in such cold terms, because our passion is not nor ever shall be cold.”

Her head tilted the slightest bit, and she narrowed her eyes. “Forgive me. I shall make you a bargain. I will always refer to what goes on in our marriage bed as a sharing of passion to strengthen our union as long as you refrain from describing it as manufacturing, excuse me, as making love. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” For now, he silently added. His beloved swan had no idea how tenacious he could be when he wanted something, and he damn sure wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything before. She would be his treasured wife, the mother of his children, and the woman he loved and needed more than air to breathe. And whether she believed it now or not, she would soon love him just as fiercely.