Page 99 of Lord Garson's Bride
She waited for this sardonic stranger to treat her roughly. When he’d arrived, he’d been in a foul mood. But when he drew her up to stand before him, he was gentle.
“You’re not even going to let your hair down?” he asked softly.
She stared into his unforgettable face. The eyelids lowered over his brown eyes in a way that was familiar from a hundred seductions. If he touched her as if he cared, when they both knew he didn’t, the travesty of what they did together would become unbearable.
“This is…this act is for you to get a child, Hugh.” Just as he no longer sounded like he had a grudge against the world, she sounded tremulous and unsure. Like a bride again.
He raised her hands and set a kiss on each set of knuckles. Her wedding ring glinted in the dim light. “Must it be just that?”
Longing swept through her like wildfire. His tenderness posed such a danger. This was how she’d tumbled into this impossible love in the first place. He acted like she was the only woman in the world when it was all lies.
“Yes, it must.” Stiffening, she tried to withdraw. “You’re not a cruel man, Hugh. Do what you need to, then leave me to find what peace I can.”
He didn’t let her go. That muscle flickered in his cheek, although his voice remained steady. “Until next month, when we have to go through all this again. Give it up, Jane. Come back to me. You haven’t stopped wanting me. I’d wager on it.”
Yes, she wanted him. She loved him. He wasn’t the only one with a loyal heart, damn him. “Wanting isn’t enough, Hugh.”
“Make it enough.”
“No.”
His lips tightened, and the lines on his face deepened into furrows. “Then let’s get this over with.”
It was what she’d asked for, so his terse response shouldn’t make her flinch. She didn’t realize he meant to kiss her, until it was almost too late. She jerked her head, and his lips slid across her cheek. Even that clumsy kiss made every hair on her body stand up in charged response.
“No kissing,” she said indistinctly.
She waited for a protest, but he curved one hand around her neck and tilted her chin so he could nibble a trail down her throat. Despite everything, Jane couldn’t contain a whimper of pleasure.
“This…this isn’t necessary,” she forced out. “I’ll lie on the bed, and you can do what you have to.”
“Oh, no, my lovely wife,” he murmured against her skin. “That’s not how this plays out. If you’re so determined to put me to stud like a ram to a ewe, this is how it’s going to be.”
Fear rose to choke her, fear as crippling as the terror that had turned her to ice on their wedding night. Except as his lips and teeth teased her neck and ears, ice was the last thing she felt like. Already that throbbing weight set up in her belly, and her body softened in readiness.
She pulled away to see his face. “Hugh, you’re frightening me.”
Jane waited for the reliable consideration to kick in. Instead, ruthlessness hardened his features. “You’ll live.”
He caught her by the waist and whirled her around, until she stood behind the chair and he stood behind her. “What are you doing?”
“It’s my turn to give the orders.” With hard hands, he bent her over the back of the chair. He set one hand over the small of her back, pinning her in position. “Of late, you’ve got your own way. Put your hands flat on the seat.”
She obeyed. God forgive her, despite everything, a surge of wild excitement swept through her.
“This is…odd,” she said, largely for the sake of her pride.
“This way you don’t have to see my face,” he said in a voice like needles. “That should suit you down to the ground.”
She swallowed a sob. He sounded like he hated her.
It wasn’t entirely comfortable bending over the padded chair. She leaned her weight forward onto the brocade seat. He must have guessed that she wouldn’t try to escape, because he stopped holding her down. She heard the rustle of his clothes, then he bundled her skirts up her legs. He’d often seen her naked, but she’d never felt as exposed as she did now, with her bare rump pointing at the ceiling.
He moved closer, and suddenly in spite of the strange position, so much that was familiar washed over her. The richscent of his arousal. The unsteady rhythm of his breathing. His hard rod pressing between her legs in male demand.
When he leaned in and cupped her breasts, teasing the nipples through her muslin gown, she bit back a protest. In this position, her breasts tumbled into his hands as if designed for his touch.
She shivered under his bold caresses. “Hugh, this isn’t…”
