Page 52 of The Wager and the Wedding

“Yes, please,” she begged, scraping her nails down his back.

Groaning, he rocked his hard length against her, and she gasped.

“Dear God, such sweet torture,” he rasped as he pulled away slightly, panting as he began to lift her skirt.

As he grazed his fingers up her inner thigh, she stopped breathing except in little gasps. Her body was an inferno as his fingers slid between her folds to the source of that terrible ache. She sighed deeply as he stroked her.

“You like the way I touch you, Isabella?”

Whatever he was doing, it was making thought and speech impossible.

He nipped at her neck and whispered, “Say it. I need to hear how much you want me, how much you need me.”

She needed him with a desperation that was unlike anything she had ever experienced.Hungerseemed an inadequate word for the sensations he had awoken within her.

A strangled “yes” was all the response she could manage, but it was enough.

His clever fingers quickened their pace. He played her as skillfully as his citole—strumming and plucking and making her dance to his silent tune. And he strummed with all the tender care and precision that he put into his art. She was his instrument, resonating as he brought her higher and higher.

It was too much. She didn’t know whether to clutch him harder or push him away. She couldn’t remain silent as he continued his sweet torture, and he kissed her to stifle the noises she was making—wanton noises that made her blush but seemed only to increase his ardor.

Her body was on some precipice, and she clung to Martin, digging in her nails, fighting to remain upright. She couldn’t take it anymore.

“Let go, Isabella. I have you. You can trust me.”

He slid a finger inside her and curled it to press some hidden place within her that set off a bolt of lightning, and she lost all tether to the world around her. A burst of white light obliterated her vision, and she floated in the heavens. She drifted back down, light as a feather, to find herself still entangled with Martin, both of them panting.

“What did you do to me? I didn’t know my body could feel such things.” She nuzzled against him, limp and sated, but still craving closeness.

“I told you on our wedding night that I would worship your body and bring you untold pleasure. This is but a taste of what is to come.” His voice was strained, and his arousal still pressed against her.

“But what of your pleasure?” She reached for him and brushed her fingers along his rigid length. “Do you wish for me to—?”

“Not today.” He pulled her hand away and kissed her fingers. “Today was only for you.”

But that flew in the face of everything she had been taught about men and the marriage bed, not that her understanding amounted to much.

“Mother always said men had needs and that they could not restrain themselves when aroused.”

He chuckled and kissed her cheek. The hard urgency against her leg lessened. “We can stop. A good man will always listen, no matter how caught up in the moment he may be. Thank you for mentioning your mother, by the way. That seems to have been just what I needed to cool my own ardor.”

He stepped back and looked her up and down with such deep love and appreciation that she almost felt the need to turn away. What had she ever done to deserve such devotion?

“You are absolutely glorious just as you are, my love, but sadly, we must put you to rights before someone decides to come check on the birds.”

With all the patient attentiveness of a lady’s maid, he helped her fix her dress and her mussed hair.

“I love your hair,” he said, re-braiding it on one side where her the bun covering one ear had tumbled down. “I was smitten on our wedding night when you let me comb it. It truly is a crown worthy of a queen.”

He pinned up her side bun with expert precision. She couldn’t have done it better herself.

“Well, you are welcome to comb my hair any time you feel inspired to do so, though I can’t imagine why it holds such a fascination for you.”

He seemed to revel in playing lady’s maid to her, which made no sense. Why would he humiliate himself performing the duties of a servant? But she had to admit that she enjoyed his attentions. No one had ever fussed over her before. She had always been at someone else’s service. It was a new experience to be cared for like this.

“Can you not? It cascades down like a river of night. I’ve never touched anything so soft and silky. And the scent of fresh herbs from your bath oils mingles with the luscious scent of you to send my senses reeling. If you ever wish to seduce me, simply take down your hair, and I’ll fall to my knees.”

She smiled. “That’s good to know, since I wouldn’t want you to have an unfair advantage. It seems you are already well versed in how to seduce me.”

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