tightness around him.
He stared down at her, hesitating only a second until she looked at him,
telling him with her eyes that she had no fear. That look took away the last of
his restraint and Christian quickly buried himself within her, his mouth taking
her startled cry against the sudden sharp pain of him, her woman’s body
naturally stretching to accept him.
From the moment he entered her, Christian
was beyond anything but feeling the tightness of her around him. She was so
tight, so good, he could not control the movement of his body as he groaned her
name, his hips moving, thrusting into her, deep and then deeper, his eyes
tightly closed. The scent of her body, the warmth and softness of her skin, her
passion, her sexuality overtook him. With each thrust his desperation grew, so
that only with another and another could he hope to find release from the
torment she held him in. He buried his head against her neck, groaning against
her hair, breathing her in, working again and again until, when it was almost
more than he could bear, he came into her one last time, deeper than he could
have thought possible.
He vaguely heard her cry out through the
pounding of his heartbeat and his own shout as he climaxed and the need, the
fury, the utter torment released him, giving him back to himself as his body
shuddered, spilling his seed within her.
It took Christian several moments to
regain full command of his faculties. Only then did he realize just what he had
done. He pulled away from Grace abruptly, as if by doing so, he could reverse
what he had just done. But it was too late.
He moved to sit at the edge of the bed
with his back to her. All the passion, the desire he had felt moments before
had gone, leaving him empty and numb and disbelieving that he had done the one
thing he had vowed he
would not do. He did not know what had happened, how he had lost such total
control over a situation in which he had intended to be master. It was his
wedding night and he’d bungled it beyond bungling. He had not withdrawn before
spilling his seed inside Grace’s womb. In the end, his grandfather had won once
again.
Christian stood defeatedly from the bed.
The fire had died to where a solitary flame now flickered sluggishly among the
glowing embers in the grate. Grace lay still upon the bed, naked in the
firelight, watching him. She lifted her hand and beckoned to him, but he did
not move to return to her. He simply stared at her, silent, solemn, and after
another moment, she slowly lowered her hand back to the bed.
Christian reached forward without a word
and pulled the edges of Grace’s nightrail closed over her breasts. He frowned,
staring at her a moment more before he slipped on his dressing robe and started
to walk away from her, saying as he went, “Good night, Grace.”
And as he closed the door behind himself,
somehow, wherever he was, Christian knew his grandfather was gloating.
Chapter Ten
The morning dawned to the gleeful hweet of the chiff-chaff in the trees outside and the movement of the servants at
various stations throughout the house—the echoing of footsteps, muffled voices,
the opening and closing of doors. Lost amid a tumble of sheets and pillows on
the ducal bed, Grace slowly opened her eyes to face her first day as a wife.
Sunlight poured through the tall windows
across the room, creeping across the carpet and lighting the chamber’s interior
through the veil of hair that fell over her eyes. Seeing the room now in the
daylight, she thought it not nearly so harsh and gloomy as she had remembered
it from the night before. The furnishings themselves were really quite
nice—Tudor in style, the hangings a rich burgundy velvet with gold. Shadows no
longer crept about the walls. The carvings on the bedposts no longer looked like
frolicking demons but were in fact cherubs poised amid an enchanted setting of
clouds. What a difference the light of day could make.
Grace lifted her head from the scattered
pillows
He stared down at her, hesitating only a second until she looked at him,
telling him with her eyes that she had no fear. That look took away the last of
his restraint and Christian quickly buried himself within her, his mouth taking
her startled cry against the sudden sharp pain of him, her woman’s body
naturally stretching to accept him.
From the moment he entered her, Christian
was beyond anything but feeling the tightness of her around him. She was so
tight, so good, he could not control the movement of his body as he groaned her
name, his hips moving, thrusting into her, deep and then deeper, his eyes
tightly closed. The scent of her body, the warmth and softness of her skin, her
passion, her sexuality overtook him. With each thrust his desperation grew, so
that only with another and another could he hope to find release from the
torment she held him in. He buried his head against her neck, groaning against
her hair, breathing her in, working again and again until, when it was almost
more than he could bear, he came into her one last time, deeper than he could
have thought possible.
He vaguely heard her cry out through the
pounding of his heartbeat and his own shout as he climaxed and the need, the
fury, the utter torment released him, giving him back to himself as his body
shuddered, spilling his seed within her.
It took Christian several moments to
regain full command of his faculties. Only then did he realize just what he had
done. He pulled away from Grace abruptly, as if by doing so, he could reverse
what he had just done. But it was too late.
He moved to sit at the edge of the bed
with his back to her. All the passion, the desire he had felt moments before
had gone, leaving him empty and numb and disbelieving that he had done the one
thing he had vowed he
would not do. He did not know what had happened, how he had lost such total
control over a situation in which he had intended to be master. It was his
wedding night and he’d bungled it beyond bungling. He had not withdrawn before
spilling his seed inside Grace’s womb. In the end, his grandfather had won once
again.
Christian stood defeatedly from the bed.
The fire had died to where a solitary flame now flickered sluggishly among the
glowing embers in the grate. Grace lay still upon the bed, naked in the
firelight, watching him. She lifted her hand and beckoned to him, but he did
not move to return to her. He simply stared at her, silent, solemn, and after
another moment, she slowly lowered her hand back to the bed.
Christian reached forward without a word
and pulled the edges of Grace’s nightrail closed over her breasts. He frowned,
staring at her a moment more before he slipped on his dressing robe and started
to walk away from her, saying as he went, “Good night, Grace.”
And as he closed the door behind himself,
somehow, wherever he was, Christian knew his grandfather was gloating.
Chapter Ten
The morning dawned to the gleeful hweet of the chiff-chaff in the trees outside and the movement of the servants at
various stations throughout the house—the echoing of footsteps, muffled voices,
the opening and closing of doors. Lost amid a tumble of sheets and pillows on
the ducal bed, Grace slowly opened her eyes to face her first day as a wife.
Sunlight poured through the tall windows
across the room, creeping across the carpet and lighting the chamber’s interior
through the veil of hair that fell over her eyes. Seeing the room now in the
daylight, she thought it not nearly so harsh and gloomy as she had remembered
it from the night before. The furnishings themselves were really quite
nice—Tudor in style, the hangings a rich burgundy velvet with gold. Shadows no
longer crept about the walls. The carvings on the bedposts no longer looked like
frolicking demons but were in fact cherubs poised amid an enchanted setting of
clouds. What a difference the light of day could make.
Grace lifted her head from the scattered
pillows
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