Page 25 of Surrender Your Grace
“Out with it, Cecilia, before I lose my patience. What was this sage piece of wisdom laid at your feet?”
“She said…” There was no easy way around it, so she blurted it out.“Lie back, close my eyes, part my, uh, thighs—and think of England.”
A long, heavy silence hung between them.
Then Andrew began to tremble. The next moment, he wrapped her in his arms and laughed—genuine, deep, belly-shaking laughter that rippled through her where their bodies met.
“I fail to see the humor,” she said tightly, her voice muffled by his chest.
His laughter slowed to an occasional chuckle. “I’m sorry. But prudish, pearl-clutching old biddies have been peddling that tale for decades. It’s meant to suppress the wanton spark in young innocents like you.”
“It isn’t true?”
“I highly doubt it. Queen Victoria was madly in love with Prince Albert. After his death, she mourned for years. Publicly, she was all moral propriety—but privately, she was an artist. She painted romantic scenes, even male nudes. One sketch she gifted to Albert.” He grimaced. “I saw it once. Wish I hadn’t.”
Cici stared, mouth agape.
“Don’t repeat that,” he said, deadpan.
She nodded emphatically. She wouldn’t dare. Maybe she’d tell Maggie someday.
He gently closed her dropped jaw with one finger. “The queen ended up with nine children. If she didn’t enjoy it, being the sovereign of England, she could’ve stopped after one.”
She didn’t realize he’d guided her to the bed until her legs hit the mattress. With the sheets already turned down, he pulled the ribbon tie at the neckline then whisked the voluminous gown over her head. This time, she didn’t resist.
Naked beneath the sheets, she watched in awe as he undressed. Propriety demanded she look away, but nothing about this seemed proper, particularly when his trousers hit the floor with a soft thud. She glimpsed strong thighs and taut buttocks before he slipped beneath the sheet.
With him covered, relief washed over her, but a sharp pang of disappointment followed, her curiosity about the rest of his powerful form unappeased.
Andrew rolled onto his hip and pulled her close. What she couldn’t see, she certainly felt. And there was a good deal of him—or rather, that part of him—nudging insistently against her thigh.
He buried his face in her neck, inhaling deeply as he stroked her hair in long sweeps down her back. “The sweet vanilla scent of your hair and the texture of silk. Just as I imagined.”
His gentle touch soothed.
“A woman’s first time doesn’t always meet expectations,” he said softly. “If you relax and trust me to take care of you, it will be easier. Can you do that?”
“I’ll try,” she whispered, with her eyes squeezed shut and clutching the sheet between them.
He pried the linen loose with gentle fingers. “This is neither trusting nor relaxed, my white-knuckled bride. Let me look at you.”
“Can’t we just get it done?” she groaned.
“Absolutely not. I intend to take my time—and savor every moment.” His voice softened into a tease. “Open your eyes and look at your husband. I won’t have you lying there thinking of England.” Then, with quiet insistence, “Now, Cici.”
She peeked at him between her lashes, enough to make out the slight upward curve of his lips.
“You can do better. I want to see the lovely green of your eyes.”
His compliment emboldened her to look up.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, brushing her lips with his own. “Now, for the sheet.” With a sharp tug, the linen vanished, and she felt the heat of her husband’s body against her own. “Scandalous as it seems, men and women, husbands andwives, and lovers throughout the ages have found this endeavor mutually enjoyable. Our city wouldn’t be bursting at the seams with people if that weren’t true.”
He spread kisses along her jaw and down the side of her neck, until reaching her breasts. Each warm press of his lips sent sparks dancing along her skin.
Propped on one arm, he traced a nipple with a fingertip. “Fate’s been kind. My bride is stunning. With the prettiest full breasts and the most exquisite pink nipples.”
He lowered his head and blew a stream of warm breath over one, watching as the tip hardened further.“Exquisite.”
