Page 21 of The Rake's Bride
“We haven’t much time left, so let us begin, shall we?”
What followed was an only slightly mortifying account of the physical act of making love, described in hushed tones and only mildly vulgar gestures and subtle demonstrations. Victoria was certain her face resembled a beet by the time it was all said and done, but she had to admit that she was quite a bit more educated than she had been when she awoke that morning.
“The act itself is natural. Utilitarian. But what itcanbe is…transcendent.”
“Life-altering,” sighed Lady Swanleigh.
“Beautiful.”
There was a pause as both women were briefly lost in their musings, and Victoria was able to recover herself somewhatbefore the duchess looked at her. Her crystalline blue eyes searched her face.
“You are nervous because you do not know what to do. That is entirely normal.” Lady Morton squeezed her hand, and Lady Swanleigh took up her other.
“He will teach you and, before you realize it, you will be in charge. I promise.”
“You likely already wield more power than you know…” Lady Morton lifted her chin in Blackwood’s direction. Victoria glanced in the direction she indicated, only to find her new husband watching her intently. His dark eyes had been riveted upon her, as motionless and innately powerful as a statue of a god. As if instinctively knowing what lay in store, a delicious tremor ran up and down the length of her body.
Oh, how Rafe had proven their words right. He had taught her a great deal already, and Victoria looked forward to learning more.
She smiled sleepily and rolled over, expecting to find her sleeping husband lying on the pillow beside hers, but she was alone.
A frown immediately knit her brows together, only deepening when she sat up and scanned the shadows to find herself abandoned in the bedchamber. A quick touch to the vacant pillow told her he hadn’t been beside her for quite some time—maybe even the entire night. The thought unleashed a ripple of unease deep in her belly. She knew it wasn’t that uncommon for married couples to exist in separate chambers, but she’d thought their wedding night—of all nights!—would have been one to share.
She spent several minutes locked in indecision before deciding she would continue on with her straightforward personality. She would locate her husband and directly ask him where he had been and why he had left. The air was slightlychilly on her naked flesh as she slipped from the bed to locate her discarded clothing and dress herself. It was a stark contrast to the heat of the room and the sensual closeness of the evening before. The heady scent of the exotic oil Rafe had used still lingered in the air and on her skin, making her entire body heat all over again.
“Calm yourself…” she muttered chidingly and tugged the tie of her dressing gown a little more firmly than was necessary.
One cleansing breath later, and she was turning the handle on the door to the adjoining chamber through which Rafe had visited her. Her eyes were instantly drawn to her husband as if yanked by some powerful, unseen force. He sat at the small table set by the window. A china cup of steaming tea sat before him as he skimmed the freshly pressed newspaper. He sat with all the grace and dangerous allure of a jungle cat, legs splayed out before him, crossed at the ankle, feet bare. He wore only a pair of half-buttoned buff breeches and a deep blue dressing gown open to reveal the broad swath of taut naked chest beneath it. Victoria’s mouth went suddenly dry as sand—especially when her eyes returned to his handsome face, and she was greeted with a blindingly beautiful grin.
“Good morning, wife. I trust you slept well?” His voice was warm as the summer sun on a beach.
Words were too difficult to locate in that moment when she was first faced with the man who had touched every intimate inch of her only a few hours before, so she settled for nodding in response. Where had her indignation at her abandonment gone?
Burned away like fog by the brilliance of her husband’s beauty, she supposed.
“Care to join me?” he offered solicitously. “It is not a full breakfast, but the pastries are better than any I’ve had in recent memory.” It was then that she noticed the platter of baked goods and various spreads laid out beside the tea service.
“Yes, thank you,” she said to cover up the plaintive whine of her stomach. She had been too distracted to eat much of the supper the hotel had served them the night before—too preoccupied by Lady Morton and Swanleigh’s hasty instruction only a few hours prior.
As she took up the vacant seat across from Rafe, she couldn’t help but spare a glance at the nearby bed. The luxuriously large mattress was covered in a rumpled coverlet the same shade of green as the one beneath which she’d slept. She did her best not to dwell upon the evidence of just where her husband had chosen to sleep. Instead, she focused on overcoming the newness of the intimacy of sharing breakfast while in a state of undress with a man. Where was she supposed to look? She knew where shewishedto look, but that likely wasn’t very proper behavior.
His face was once again half-hidden behind his newspaper, but what she saw was still unnerving in its perfection. She could easily stare at him for hours, but she didn’t dare risk being caught ogling him like that.
The enticing expanse of his chest peeking at her from between the open panels of his dressing gown was rather inviting, but it, too, was dangerous…oh, so very dangerous. It made her recall just how delicious the salt-tinged sweat of his skin tasted when she’d pressed impulsive, open-mouthed kisses against his flexing shoulder.
Not even her plate was safe territory; if she glared at it too long, then he might think she possessed a strange fascination with food…or cutlery.
Leave it to Rafe to put his disarming amiability to good use… Either because of or despite her unease, he launched into pleasant chatter about their upcoming honeymoon trip, their plans, the day’s weather for their crossing to the Continent. Almost immediately, Victoria was transported back to theirweeks of friendship, and she settled back into their comfortable habits of interaction. He became less the man who had used his wicked tongue and body to introduce her to pleasure and returned to the man who had used his easy smile and smooth words to earn her trust and make her feel more comfortable than she had since arriving in England. He had a way about him that made her feel as if she’d known him for years rather than a few short months, and it was pleasant to sink into that sensation.
“All said, I do not believe we will have an eventful crossing,” Rafe said as she selected a jam-filled pastry made from flaky golden dough. “If you find it agreeable, we should depart for the docks in two hours’ time. That should—” A small scratch at the door interrupted him. “Enter,” he bade the newcomer without breaking his sentence’s stride. “Two hours should be sufficient for you to prepare yourself for travel, should it not?” he finished just as a red-haired maid entered the room and bounced into a curtsey.
“This letter arrived for you, My Lord,” she whispered, eyes appropriately downcast for three entire seconds before turning them on Rafe.
Victoria brushed a crumb from her lower lip as she watched the maid’s saucer-like eyes take in every glorious inch of Rafe. It galled Victoria to no end that she could be annoyed by an appreciative glance at her husband from another woman—she was not a possessive or jealous woman by nature—but she was quickly discovering new aspects of her personality that had been heretofore unseen before her marriage. She’d have to explore this new facet of her personality, mull it over, and decide how best to move forward with this realization. Add that to the wild, uninhibited sensuality Rafe had somehow unlocked the night before, and her list of realizations was rapidly growing in length.
Rafe accepted the letter, and the maid excused herself. Victoria watched her leave—more slowly than necessary, mindyou—until she felt Rafe’s piercing eyes upon her. Her cheeks warmed instantly when she realized she’d been caught staring.
Rather than witness disapproval or amusement in Rafe’s expression, however, she thought she saw interest and…was that appreciation?
