Page 62 of Loving a Beast of a Marquess
He was a new generation, and if she wanted to turn her back on tradition, so be it.
Evangeline glanced at him now, catching the way his gaze slid across to her as though he couldn’t help himself. Upon catching her eye, his lips curved into a long, slow smile.
She had told him she would embrace his history as well as their future. A new house in London was enough for her; she would learn to love his family home as deeply as she loved her father’s.
And their children would love their home and life together as much as she had loved her childhood.
His eyes had ignited at the mention of children although they had not discussed it in too much detail. He wanted children, of course, but they had not discussed how many they should like or what names would be preferable.
There was so much of their lives they had yet to open to the other. So much left to discover; so many pages as yet unread.
Still more to write together.
The thought made Evangeline’s heart warm.
Her father rose and tapped his glass. “I left for the Continent when my daughter was a girl,” he said, “and I returned to find her a woman. A woman who has been lucky enough to find a man who will provide for her in the way she deserves.” He raised his glass to Zachary, who inclined his head.
Her husband and her father were not yet friends, but they would be soon if Evangeline had anything to do with the matter.
“It is my greatest pleasure to witness this union today, and to have the privilege of being your father, Evangeline.” His voice again was gruff, and he cleared his throat before raising his glass.“To Evangeline and Zachary!”
“Evangeline and Zachary,” the others replied, raising their glasses.
* * *
The rest of the day passed in a blur. The breakfast felt as though it went on for the longest time, and although Evangeline was not precisely eager to remove herself from the celebrations, she had a certain desire to be alone with her husband.
It was late afternoon, however, the sun slanting low and red in the sky before they finally made the carriage ride across Town to her new home.
The door barely closed behind them before Zachary was kissing her. His mouth was hot and eager, and hers was hardly less so. This was precisely what she had been waiting for. Tingles of anticipation spread throughout her body, and she drew herself closer to him, perching on his lap and spreading her skirts on either side.
“Evangeline,” he said as she threaded her fingers through his hair. “You might want to—”
Evangeline kissed him again.
Other young ladies of her acquaintance had mentioned, in deeply significant tones, their wedding nights. They had intimated that pleasing their husbands was not always a pleasant activity, and that they were frequently expected to engage in their wifely duties with more regularity than they would have wished.
Evangeline could not even imagine how that could be the case.
Zachary’s every touch set her alight. She was a flame, burning into the darkness, and he was the wick, the candle, the faint breeze that sent her fluttering and flaring. Heavens, she had spent the better part of the time up to the wedding imagining him holding her and loving her and kissing her and showing her the meaning of pleasure.
There could be no such thing as too frequently.
There could be no such thing asthisbeing unpleasant.
Her core throbbed with urgency at the idea of what might be to follow, and when Zachary broke off the kiss, she knew herself to be flushed.
“Steady, my love,” he murmured, although his cheeks were also flushed, and if she shuffled closer to him, the bulge in his breeches pressed delightfully against that tender place between her legs. He sucked in a breath. “You are testing my self-control, Evangeline.”
“Then let me test it,” she said, placing her hands on either side of his face. In this dim light, she could see less of him, but she knew what he looked like. She knew the exact shade of his eyes and the way his hair fell across his forehead and the press of his lips. “We have been waiting for so long. Why can we not—”
“My God, Evangeline, have you so little patience you cannot wait for me to take you to my bed?” He pressed his lips to hers again, kissing her until she was breathless. “We have waited this long even if—”
She rubbed herself against him again, and he caught hold of her hips, stilling the movement even as he groaned.
“There are still several minutes until we arrive,” she said, pressing her knees against his either side as though she had the strength or weight to pin him in place. “Perhaps we do not have to finish the process, but we may at least begin it.”
In answer, he took hold of her face and pulled it back down to his own, kissing her with such hunger she wondered if she should survive the conflagration. Perhaps the heat of this desire would burn her entirely.
