Page 123 of To Wed an Heiress
She widened her legs, curved the rest of her body toward him, needing that connection, wanting his touch.
Reaching down, she slid her fingers over his length, glorying in his muttered groan. Good. She hoped he felt like she did, out of control, her will buried beneath her body’s needs. She was overwhelmed with sensations: heat, the pounding of her heart, breathlessness, and above all this driving need to have him ease these feelings and complete her.
The first time they’d loved, she’d been awash in wonder and a little trepidation. Their joining had been pleasurable, but marked by a little discomfort. The second time was glorious and tonight would be no different.
She would be able to love Lennox every night of her life. She would grow to know his responses as well as learning her own. She already knew, for example, that stroking her nails along his back made him shiver. His buttocks were sensitive and he liked to be touched, almost as much as she did.
Lennox was capable of great restraint, however, much more so than she. She wanted him now. She wanted him five minutes ago. Yet he continued to tease her with his fingers and lips.
She pulled his head down for a kiss, nibbling on his bottom lip in mock punishment for his teasing.
“Now, Lennox,” she said, speaking against his lips.
“Soon.”
“Please. I want you inside me.”
She grabbed him and squeezed gently. She could tease him, too.
“Lennox. Please.”
Suddenly he was over her again. She spread her legs wide, invitation without a word spoken. Then he was inside her and she groaned in pleasure.
No wonder mothers cautioned their daughters a hundred ways to keep themselves inviolate. If the daughters truly knew what they were missing there wouldn’t be a virgin left in the world.
As for Mercy, she was exceedingly glad that she was no longer a virgin, that her wedding night wasn’t spent in worrying about what came next. She knew exactly what was going to happen and it was why she raised her hips, wrapped her feet around Lennox’s calves, grabbed his shoulders, and surrendered to his kiss.
Bliss was different, she discovered. Before it had been a pleasant explosion of feeling. Tonight it was as if the world rocked, the bed shuddered beneath her, and in those long moments of cataclysmic pleasure, she shattered and was put together again.
Colors danced behind her closed eyelids. She lost her breath and gained it. She was certain her heart stopped in that instant of completion then raced to catch up. Lennox made a sound in the back of his throat, stiffened, and held her tight to him.
She wanted to weep or scream with pleasure. Some sound to mark what they had created between them. All she ended up doing was holding tight to him, her cheek against his heated skin, hearing the booming sound of his heart and knowing that hers matched his beat for beat.
Her prayer was simple and heartfelt, a few words of thanks to a generous God who’d put them in the same place to find each other.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Toward dawn, Lennox woke, staring up at the ceiling.
The sun wouldn’t make an appearance for at least an hour if he’d awakened at his usual time. He turned his head, for the first time not being alone in the ancestral bed. Now he knew why it was so large. It had been designed for a man and his wife. He could even imagine their children joining them in a few years, clambering over the end of the mattress, their excited smiles revealing impish mischief or solemn wisdom.
He wasn’t given to second sight, but he knew that his life would be full and joyful and that he would repeat this moment of deep gratitude for the rest of his life.
Mercy was asleep, a palm tucked under her cheek. Even asleep she was beautiful, her long lashes sweeping down over a delicately colored complexion. His wife. His very surprising wife. His very stubborn wife. His wealthy wife.
He grinned.
Slowly, so as not to wake her, he got out of bed, went behind the screen, and took care of his morning ablutions. Grabbing his trousers, he donned them and then, barefoot, went up the stairs to the top of the tower.
Normally, when he viewed his kingdom it was with thoughts of responsibility. Things had changed since yesterday. Not just his wedding, but his realization that he had narrowed his life himself. No one had demanded it of him.
Suddenly, he wasn’t blessed with an albatross around his neck as much as a legacy to protect and defend. A legacy for his children and their children and hopefully a bloodline that stretched far into the future.
A noise made him turn and there she was. His wife. The Countess of Morton. The beautiful Countess of Morton.
She was dressed in his shirt, and that was all, the sight bringing his desire to life again.
“We have to find you some clothes,” he said, smiling. “But not right this moment.”
