Page 55 of The Beast of Beswick
He couldn’t recall the last time he’d come so hard and so fast. At least he’d had the presence of mind to withdraw. The prevention of pregnancy was something they would have to discuss later. But for now, he hoped to repeat the experience. Though they’d only agreed to consummate the marriage, if Astrid permitted, he intended to make it up to her after dinner tonight, when he would take his time. Sample every inch of her. Make her scream his name and come so many times, she’d lose count. He wanted to worship her the way she deserved.
Hell, he was getting aroused just thinking about it.
Thane tamped down his lust, allowing the valet to unsnarl his hair and smooth the locks back into place. He stared at himself in the mirrored glass, the familiar sight of his patchwork face looking back at him. Thank God he’d taken her under the cover of darkness and kept his shirt on. His face was a fair sight better than the rest of him.
Descending the staircase, he entered the foyer. Even though they were going out for dinner, his staff had gone beyond the call of duty to brighten up the place. Soft candlelight illuminated the room from the chandelier, and vases of fresh hothouse roses added bright spots of color. His bride had not yet arrived. Thane signaled for a finger of brandy as he lingered, but he didn’t have to wait long.
His throat went dry as he felt her presence. Astrid looked equal parts ethereal and regal…like a fairy queen visiting from some mystical land. Her dark hair had been twisted into loose coils and pinned to her crown, and she wore no jewelry save for the rings on her finger. He’d been right. The diaphanous silvery blue fabric matched her eyes perfectly. The dress itself was modest, but Astrid in it made it a tool of seduction. It hugged her frame to perfection, the bodice molding her breasts and reminding him of the way her slender but voluptuous body had felt beneath his.
His groin tightened instantly.
Christ.
Thane grazed his lips over her gloved fingers before tying her cloak over her shoulders. “Your Grace,” he murmured, leading her to where the carriage was waiting. “You look exquisite.”
Bright eyes met his. “As do you.”
He took his place across from her and rapped on the roof, and the coach lurched into motion. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“The Silver Scythe. For dinner. It’s not far from here. I thought it would be a pleasant outing.”
“Oh.” She wet her lips. “I would have been happy to stay in.”
“It’s your wedding day, Astrid. You deserve for it to be memorable.”
A blush bloomed over her cheeks as she canted her head, a gleam in those transparent eyes of hers. “It already is.”
Thane stifled the rush of pleasure at her words, along with the urgent need to instruct the coachman to turn the carriage around at once and head back to Harte House. He wanted her again. Badly enough to plead for her favors, agreement be damned. Thane had never begged for a single thing in his life, but he’d drop to his knees for her in a heartbeat.
“I do admit that I want to show off my beautiful new bride,” he said.
“Hardly beautiful, Your Grace,” she said, that gorgeous blush deepening. “Isobel is the beauty in the family, not me.”
He arched a brow. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, is it not?”
“I think this particular beholder might be biased because of what just happened between us, and his brain is still fuzzy,” she said dryly. “If he’s thinking with hisactualbrain, that is.”
Thane barked a laugh. He might be temporarily influenced by the appendage in his trousers, but Astridwasbeautiful. Though hers was a beauty sheathed in danger—in those sharp eyes, that fine-edged intelligence, and that barbed tongue. Even now as he craved her body, he also wanted to hear her converse and laugh. A strange feeling bloomed in his chest. Dare he call it optimism? He bit back a grin. Christ, he’d never hear the end of it from Fletcher.
“Are you saying I’m ruled by my passions, Duchess?” he asked just as the carriage rolled to a stop in front of his club and the coachman rapped on the door. He helped her down from the coach, his fingers flexing on her slim, silk-clad waist and instantly recalling how velvety soft her bare skin had been.
Astrid’s teasing glance slid to the bulge in his trousers, a playful smile on her lips. “I don’t know, Duke, are you?”
He groaned. “Do you blame me? All I can think about is having you in my arms again.”
Her reply was so quiet, he almost didn’t hear it.
“I wish that, too.”
Thane stopped so suddenly that his poor wife nearly went pitching forward through the doors of The Silver Scythe. Hardly daring to hope, he turned, his eyes meeting hers and holding them. “What are you saying, Astrid?”
Her smile was pure seduction. “How quickly can you eat?”
Before he could form a coherent reply, they were being welcomed and ushered by the proprietor to an opulent dining room. Though Thane could hardly focus, his nerves were so jumbled by Astrid’s shattering admission. Heads turned as they were led to their table, and already Thane could hear the murmur of whispers.
However, when a particularly unkind sentiment reached him, he frowned. People were staring, but it took him a moment to realize that their stares were full of pity, not admiration. He blinked, fists clenching. He was used to the insults, but his glance slid to his bride, whose face had tightened as the word “beast” filtered through the air. She flinched at the sudden peal of loud, cruel laughter, and he resisted the impulse to growl his displeasure.
Her face paled when more whispers reached their ears. “How do you deal with this?”
