By the time they stopped dancing, he was ready to take his leave with his wife to make good use of their bedchamber.
His good mood dampened when he caught sight of his former fiancée.
She still radiated light with her light colored locks, even though she had darkened his world, when he had been clinging to her as the only semblance of light in his darkness, the darkness that plagued him in the days after the war and when he returned.
He no longer felt tender feelings for her but her presence served as a reminder of that terrible, pitiful point in his life when he had been reduced to begging for the scraps of a woman's attention simply because he had loved her in a way that she did not love him.
He had needed space away from her. So he had taken his wife and left. Even on their way back to the estate he could feel the questions she wanted to ask floating in the tenses sir between them. He was silently grateful to her for not demanding answers.
He was not truly in the right mind-set to answer them. He just wanted to revel in her, in the light and radiance she had brought back in his life.
The moment they stepped into her bedroom. He finally let go of the struggle that had been part of his life for so long and just surrendered himself to the pleasure to be found in making love to his wife.
ChapterEighteen
Victoria is surprised only for a brief moment when Anthony lifts her. She should be used to his masculine strength by now but since it was one thing that attracted her to him, she couldn’t help the way her heart raced at the sheer difference between them.
He nibbles her lips to bring her back to the present and she returns his kisses eagerly, satisfied when he groans against her mouth.
All of a sudden, her clothes feel too tight and the pins in her scalp too oppressive and she wanted to be rid of them as quickly as possible.
She buried her hands in her hair, pulling out pins and not caring where she threw them. That would be her first chore on the morrow and she would not be bothered to think of them today.
Next were the stays at the back of her dress. After struggling for a few minutes unsuccessfully, she groaned her frustration causing him to laugh.
"You could have just asked me." He teased, breaking away from her lips to help her sit up.
She pouted and folded her arms across herself as he moved behind her to help.
"I did not want to interrupt your enjoyment." She quipped.
He laughed again and she was grateful to see that somber look he had had removed from his face.
She much preferred him this way; happy and care free. It made him look even more handsome and gave her a surge of pride in her chest that he could let down his guard around her.
She wondered how he must have been before the war and the scars. He seemed the sort that was easily moved to laughter and mischief and decided she would ask when he trusted her enough but not a moment sooner.
If she did, he might all but pull away from her and if she had read his movements correctly, he would not be staying away from her bed that night.
When he had finished undoing the ropes, there was an awkward moment as he tried to take off the dress till she was left in only her stockings and undergarments and he stayed her hand then.
"I’ll prefer to do that myself."
She nodded and let her hands fall away and returned awkwardly to the bed.
She had been naked once in front of him but she still felt a shiver of nerves. She did not suppose it got easier.
He had not touched her yet but moved to turn off the candles till the only light in the room came from the moon filtering through her window and then the furnace.
"Is everything alright?" she asked when she noticed he too seemed anxious.
He nodded.
Then his hands moved to remove his jacket then his cravat and with every piece of clothing that came off, she held her breath.
When he was fully unclad, her eyes widened at the sheer size of him and the mass of scars that crossed his chest and his right arm, her eyes returning to his swollen manhood between his legs.
Would that really fit inside her?