Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

I woke early on my wedding day. Once my fate had been decided, Father expedited matters, with good reason. Although only a short time had passed since the incident giving rise to my sudden betrothal, even I, an American, knew tongues wagged all around London about the scandal. The sooner I became the Duchess of Amherst, the sooner the tongues would wag about someone else.

Mrs. White assisted me in dressing in one of the many gowns purchased for my season. My reflection in the mirror pleased me. I hoped Jeffrey would feel the same. My soon-to-be-former-handler fussed a bit and pretended to be maternal. I considered spitting on her shoe but, frankly, could not be bothered. My soul yearned to be rid of her in order to get on with my life, whatever it might hold.

Although the thought of becoming a duchess terrified me, what did I know about being a duchess? I realized that I would prefer to move into unknown territory than to remain in my life as it was then constituted.

A soft spot had formed in my heart where Jeffrey, the Duke of Amherst had taken up residence and a glimmer of hope flickered there.

Father and Mrs. White rode with me to the church in the carriage my father had secured for use during our visit. He had expected to be in London for at least three months, so my sudden engagement put him in a bind. However, on the way to the church, he shared with me he had been able to terminate his agreements for the carriage and townhouse. Therefore, he would return to America the next day.

Father never intended to make London his home after my marriage, but his sudden announcement chilled me. We are not a sentimental family, we Hancocks, but still, I might have hoped my father would not abandon me before the ink on my marriage license dried.

Despite my hurt, my composure remained intact. Wondering at Mrs. White's reaction to the departure of my father, along with any hopes she might have of securing his affections, I stole a look in her direction. Her pleasant countenance caught me off guard. Perhaps because I had never seen her in any state other than dour.

When we arrived at the church, I was pleased to see Cassie and the Winchesters. After the ride in the carriage with my father and Mrs. White, the warmth of the Winchesters and their ward was much appreciated.

I nearly ran up the aisle to my groom. Although I was not in love with him, at least he enjoyed my company, which was more than I could say for my own dear father whose recent actions evidenced his urge to be rid of me.

At the altar, I peeped at Jeffrey during one of the lengthy prayers the vicar felt necessary to pronounce in an effort to assure our marital felicity. To my surprise, Jeffrey gazed down at me at the same time, gave me a wink before closing his eyes and assuming the proper prayerful attitude.

Once the marriage ceremony concluded, we adjourned to the Duke of Amherst's townhouse for the wedding breakfast. Thank goodness for Cassie and the Winchesters. Otherwise, the mood would have been very dour with only my father and Mrs. White.

The Winchesters and Cassie did not linger too long after breakfast finished. They offered their good wishes for our happy marriage and then were on their way. No doubt they wished to be away from my father and Mrs. White as much as I did.

Although I was not sure what awaited me as a married woman, after my father's pronouncement in the carriage, I could not be away from him fast enough, so when he and that woman lingered after the meal, I sighed loudly to indicate my impatience.

After they finally left, my groom turned to me. "You were eager for our guests to leave. You must be anxious to be alone with me."

The look in his eyes made my heart thunder in my chest and my toes curled inside my wedding slippers. However, I refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing how his nearness affected me.

"I wished for them to leave, but not to be alone with you. Honestly, you are the most self-centered person I have ever met."

"Is it so wrong for a man to want to hear his wife say she has an interest in him? I have gone out of my way to establish a harmonious relationship, yet all you do is rebuff my efforts." He stepped toward me and tugged at a bit of my hair, which had come loose when Mrs. White hugged me with a show of faux affection. "We both know you are not immune to me, do we not, my dear wife?"

"I shall now add arrogant as well as vain to my previous description of you." His proximity made it difficult to think straight. Emotions warred within me. I ached to throw myself into Jeffrey's arms, to beg him to show me the ways of married people. Yet, I had no inkling how to be a wife and the notion of revealing ineptitude to my new husband terrified me.

His fingers played with the lock of hair, and the familiarity of his touch was distracting.

"Are you saying you do not want to consummate our marriage?" He tucked the errant tress behind my ear then trailed a finger down my throat and across my collarbone. "As I recall during one of our conversations you were quite concerned about your wifely duties. Perhaps it is time to remove the mystery." His finger moved in sensual circles on the flesh of my collarbone.

The breath caught in my lungs. My mind went blank. I simply waited, my heart beating a cadence while his finger explored the flesh displayed by the low bodice of my dress.

Although I intended to keep my eyes on the ground, I peeked at his body lingering very near to mine. After our guests left, he had removed his jacket and the rapid pace of his breathing was more evident without the additional layer of clothing. Perhaps I held some appeal for him after all.

His fingertip slid inside my gown and touched the edge of one nipple. He moved deeper into the dress, squeezed the tip of my breast between his thumb and forefinger. An involuntary moan escaped my lips.

"Shall we go upstairs, little duchess?" His husky voice sent a jolt through my body. All I could do was nod.

He scooped me into his strong arms. I clung to his neck with my face buried in his shoulder. He took the stairs two at a time, kicked open the door to a bedchamber, then kicked it closed behind us with a resounding boom. Despite the momentum of our entry, once we were alone, his actions slowed. He set me upon my feet as though I were a delicate treasure.

A large bed—my husband's bed—dominated the room. It was made up with crisp fresh linens plus a mountain of pillows. Heavy drapes, tied back at the corners, gave the whole scene a very intimate, masculine feel.

I gulped and licked my parched lips. I had never been alone with a man in his bedchamber. What decent young lady would? Yet, I was now expected to share a marriage bed with my spouse.

My heart pounded. My tummy churned. "I-I do not know what to do," I whispered.

"I would be most surprised if you did." Jeffrey cupped my chin in his hand. "It is a gentleman's honor to teach his wife about the pleasures of the marriage bed. It is his duty to ensure his wife's needs are met and she finds pleasure in the intimacies married couples share."

Until he kissed me for the first time, I never gave much thought, other than dread, to what happened between men and women, but since then, many fantasies of what might lie beyond gentle kisses filled my thoughts.

My husband swept his thumb across my bottom lip; a trill of excitement followed his touch. He lowered his head. I closed my eyes when his lips covered mine. His mouth smoothed over my lips and, once accustomed to the sensation, I attempted to match his movements. His mouth stretched into a brief smile against mine, he pulled me close then kissed me more firmly.

The caress left me light headed and my knees wobbled. He grasped my shoulders to steady me. Yearning for more, I spoke unreservedly. "Please, J-Jeffrey, teach me how to please you and be a good wife."

A smile lit his face. He lifted my hand, turning it over to place his lips at the inside of my wrist. "Thank you for your trust in me, my sweet duchess. I shall do my best to deserve it."

I tilted my head to examine my new husband, stretched up on the tips of my toes then touched my mouth to his.

He growled deep in his throat and crushed me to him. "Oh, my little hellion," he whispered between kisses he trailed down my throat, "what is this power you have over me?"

'Twas though he drew the breath from my body. My head swam. Fainting seemed a possibility. I clasped his shoulders, reveling in the muscled strength beneath my palms. His power imbued me with confidence, in him if not myself.

"Show me, Jeffrey. Show me how to love you."

He paused in his efforts to rain kisses on my entire décolletage to gaze into my eyes, a gentle smile on his lips. His dark eyes shimmered with tenderness, while my heart swelled with longing, longing to please him. To be worthy of his affection.

"I most certainly shall, little wife." He whispered the words against my lips before he claimed my mouth in a kiss that seared through my body.

I wound my hands around his neck then held his mouth to mine, my tongue straining to keep up with his.

He worked at the fastenings down the back of my dress, until, soon, I stood before him in only a chemise and pantalets, my gown pooled around my feet.

I resisted the urge to cover myself as his dark eyes raked over my nearly nude body. Silently, I prayed for his approval.

He touched the tip of my chin with his fingers, gently grazing my jaw line with his thumb. "You are beautiful, my Sarah."

The reverence in his voice filled me with pride. His hand cupped the back of my head, and he brought my body firmly against his.

Without the layers of my gown between us, Jeffrey's arousal pressed against my stomach. Captivated, yet anxious, I anticipated making love with my husband.

I had promised to allow him to show me the pleasures of the marriage bed, so I fought my trepidation and gave myself over to the sensations. I rubbed my hands against his chest then slid them down the flat planes of his stomach, the luxurious fabric of his shirt a contrast to the hardness of his chiseled body. An urge to touch his flesh overwhelmed me, and I tugged at his shirt to free it from his breeches.

"Whoa, Yankee girl. All in good time." He opened the fastening of his pants, yanked his shirt loose then placed my hands against his heated flesh.

I mewled with longing, and my hands, as though they had a mind of their own, explored his rippled stomach, then rasped over the hard tips of his nipples. At my touch, he inhaled sharply. A moan rumbled from his chest. Emboldened by his response, I repeated my movements, touching my fingertips against his taut nipples, allowing them to linger, stroking back and forth.

"You are going to get it now, little hellcat," he growled and lifted me from the floor to the center of the bed in one swift, fluid motion.

Jeffrey stepped back. He stripped off his clothing then came to kneel over me in the center of the bed. Our bed.

My attention focused on the length between his thighs. Never having seen a man's member before, I was surprised by the appeal it held for me. Somewhere deep in my core, a throbbing began. I arched my hips forward, my actions driven by primitive instinct.

He chuckled. "We have all night, Sarah girl. Let us take our time." He lowered his face to kiss me in a sweet caress. Somehow, he knew how to calm me before I became overwhelmed with sensations and unknown longings. He lay next to me, pulled me to his side until we faced each other, his hardness throbbed against the flimsy fabric of my pantalets.

His gaze held mine, and he tapped the tip of my nose. "There is one important rule which you must learn, Sarah, the Duchess of Amherst."

His use of my married name sent a warm thrill through me. "What rule is that, Jeffrey, the Duke of Amherst?"

"You are never to wear more clothes than me."

My eyes went wide with such a bold statement, yet I found the courage to say, "What shall happen to me if I break this rule?"

He reached behind me to give my barely covered hind end a meaningful squeeze. "We both know my preference for rule enforcement." He moved his hand from the cheeks of my derriere to the ribbons holding my pantalets up, which he expertly untied and removed. He dispatched my chemise with dexterity as well.

"There." With his finger, he blazed a trail from the curve of my hip to the tip of my breast. "Now you are in compliance." He tweaked my nipple, creating a molten river of passion flowing from my breast to nether region. I squirmed next to him.

Innocent and unsure of my desires, I knew with certainty I wanted Jeffrey. Needed him. Needed to be closer. I tossed my leg over his hip, opening my most private place so it brushed against his arousal.

He snaked his hand from taunting my breast and inserted a finger into my intimate passage. I tensed at the intrusion.

"Let me show you pleasure, my Sarah," my husband whispered.

He caressed the walls of my vagina then teased the hard nub he found below the curls of my womanhood. My anxiety disappeared. With a guttural wail, I urged myself against him hungrily.

My hips rocked over his finger, and I clutched at his powerful shoulders while something unknown curled and constricted inside. I had experienced this feeling previously, when he touched me this way before our marriage. That time he stopped, leaving me wanting. I hoped he would not abandon me too soon again.

"You are so slick and wet for me, little Sarah. Are you ready for more?"

Suddenly fearful, I simply stared into his eyes.

"Trust me, little one. I shall do my best not to hurt you, though there might be some pain this first time. 'Tis mother nature's fault, not mine."

He rolled me onto my back then braced above me, his manhood perched at the opening of my sex. His face hovered inches from mine. I reached up to pull his mouth down for a kiss at the same instant he slid his length into me. He paused for a moment for me to adjust to having him inside me. The fullness was overwhelming, yet once I became accustomed to the sensation, it thrilled me. I wriggled my hips beneath him, and we moved in unison.

He pressed in even farther. Sharp pain caused me to halt. Jeffrey paused, his breathing ragged, and brushed the hair back from my face. "I'm sorry. It will be better next time. I promise."

He devoured my mouth with his, and I floated away on his kiss, the pain of my lost maidenhead vanquished by the passion of our union.