He grunted, and she realized the tremors rippling through his taut muscles were proof of how much effort he was expending to give her those moments.
She stretched up and pressed her lips to his, tightened her arms and her legs about him, and urged him on.
He eased out a breath, then drew fractionally back before thrusting home again. Soon, she was rising to his increasingly forceful tempo, then the crescendo caught them, and the world dissolved into a vortex of want, need, passion, and desire, and nothing else mattered but reaching the pinnacle of sensation that steadily rose on their horizon.
Frederick gritted his teeth and clung to control, wanting to—needing to—ensure he didn’t reach that rapturous peak before she did. She was new to this, and in some ways, so was he.
He’d always prided himself on being a generous lover, but with all other women, the driving force behind his generosity had largely been academic; he’d behaved so because he’d felt he should. But with her, there was nothing academic about his need to worship her, to accord each and every curve the reverence it was due; the uncontestable reason behind his drive to ensure her pleasure was simply because her pleasure was his.
Braced above her, he looked down at her face, felt the lush curves of her body cradling and caressing his as she shifted beneath him, as she undulated and writhed to the rhythm of his thrusts.
Her skin was so fine, skimming his fingertips over it felt like stroking the most delicately polished porcelain. The sight of desire’s rosy tint spread beneath the alabaster white sent possessive satisfaction coursing through him, pushing him on, tempting him to increase his pace and take her more aggressively—something he fought against.
In the end, his instincts took over. He was an experienced composer; he knew what notes to hit and how to string movements into a symphony that swept them both along.
She gasped and seemed to recognize his intent, and she surrendered herself with unfettered abandon, letting him play her like his own sensual instrument, and as with his musical performances, he lost himself in the music they made.
He lost himself wholly in her.
The end, when it came—when the crescendo of their passions exploded in a starburst of pleasure, and their striving tensions snapped, and glory streaked like lightning down their veins—was as much of a revelation to him as it was to her.
For an indefinable instant, they hung suspended, buoyed high on a surge of exquisite, ethereal emotion.
Then oblivion rolled over them, caught them, snared them, and inexorably swept them into its bliss-filled sea.
Later, he stirred and lifted from her.
She remained sunk in slumber. He eased down beside her and drew up the covers, then propped on his elbow and gave in to the impulse to stare.
To catalog every feature, for once devoid of her customary vibrancy, her expression blank in the aftermath of passion.
To him, in that moment, she appeared delicate, vulnerable, and infinitely precious. A lady he would, forevermore, protect against all comers—whether her foe be some person intent on harming her or an idea planted long ago in her head.
He couldn’t, and he sensed he would never be able to, back away from that duty. Indeed, in his mind, it didn’t register as a duty but rather as a right.
Something he had claimed that night, along with making her his wife.
After long moments of studying her and sorting through the web of feelings she inspired in him, he carefully lay down, raised his arm, reached around her, and gently eased her nearer. She wriggled and snuggled closer, then sighed and sank deeper into sleep.
He relaxed and closed his eyes, only to have his brain decide to examine the new landscape in which he found himself. He hadn’t expected the changes; he hadn’t known that making love to a woman whom he loved would be a significantly different experience—one that touched and influenced him in very different ways—from making love to a lady for whom he felt nothing more than sexual interest.
Out of that—because of that difference—so much about the engagement had been heightened; it had felt as if every thud of his heartbeat had been more powerful, deeper, more intense.
As for the final moments…they had been the ultimate in rapture.
Luckily, having been a virgin, she had no prior experience with which to compare. She wouldn’t see—had no cause to even guess—that what they’d shared had been in any way extraordinary.
He told himself all was well and allowed his lips to curve into an arrogantly smug smile.
Out of today, he’d got all that he wanted—her in his bed with his ring on her finger—and most importantly, his secret remained safe, known only to him and no one else.
Chapter 14
When Stacie woke to her first day of married life, it was to find herself alone in her husband’s big bed. The bed curtains had been drawn to protect her from the sight of anyone entering the room, but had been left open on the side facing the wide windows, and weak sunshine streamed in, informing her that it was well and truly morning.
She stretched languorously, feeling delicious aches in places she’d never felt achy before, then, prodded by hunger and curiosity, she slipped from the bed and found and donned her chemise. Having detected no sound or other signs of life, she explored and discovered that the narrow door in the inner wall closer to the fireplace led to a large, obviously male dressing room—thankfully empty, although there were signs that Frederick at least, if not his valet, whom she’d yet to meet, had been there at some point. The corresponding door on the other side of the room led into a large bathing chamber. She was delighted to see a huge claw-footed tub, along with the usual washbasin and commode. A second door to the bathing room, opposite the one through which she’d entered, led to what had to be the marchioness’s dressing room; Stacie found her clothes hanging in the two armoires and in neat piles in the drawers of the chests, and her brushes and combs had been placed on the dressing table, along with her jewelry chest—and a red-velvet-covered jewel case she didn’t recognize.
The dressing table sat before the window; she padded to it and stared at the unknown case. Her first thought had been that it was a part of the Brampton family jewels, but the case looked new.