Page 64 of The Mistletoe Countess
Her gaze sharpened with awareness as her pink bottom lip dropped. She nodded and slowly unwound the first two buttons of his shirt, her eyes searching his. Trusting him.
As another rumble roared around them, he kissed away her whimper and her fingers found their way to his other buttons, slowly, bungling through the movements at first, but making excellent progress. He’d never wanted to cherish anything—this moment, her—so much in his entire life.
Without breaking the kiss, he finished the work of her blouse and slid it off her arms, chasing her pearl-like skin with his lips down her neck to her collar bone. He caught her as her knees weakened and her breaths dissolved into a moan.
“Grace,” he breathed her name over her skin.
She pushed his shirt from his shoulders, her palm sliding over his chest as if fascinated by the touch. Fire followed the trail of her fingers.
“Kissing is a very good distraction.” Her words shook out on a shaky whisper.
He gathered her fingers into his and brought them to his lips, never breaking eye contact with her. “And a very good introduction.”
Her brows rose, and he pressed his forehead against hers, his palms sliding down her arms to tug her against him. “Let me love you, Grace, as a husband to his wife.”
Her lips took a slight turn, and she brought her palms to his cheeks, their breaths mingling, lips almost touching. “Please do, my dear Frederick. Love me.”
Chapter Eighteen
The fire from the fireplace doused the room with a golden glow as Grace blinked awake. Was it nighttime? She yawned and stretched, her body humming with warmth and pleasant exhaustion. Why was she still in bed? She sat up, only to realize she was perfectly naked, and then the delicious scenes from the past hours materialized in her mind and she dropped back against the pillows.
Heaven on earth. A husband loving his wife certainly exceeded anything Grace could have imagined. Gentle, passionate—all the mystery from Lillias’s subtle comments and fiction’s strategic wording finally emerged in this glorious act of…love.
She tugged the blankets up to her growing smile. What a remarkable design! A divine combination of tender, exhilarating, and wonderfully roguish. She turned on her side toward Frederick’s pillow and her smile dissolved. Her swoon-inducing husband was woefully absent. She twisted the blanket up around her as she sat, scanning the room and nibbling her bottom lip.
Her father had always accused her of being overly exuberant. Perhaps she’d gotten too carried away for a proper lady, but Frederick hadn’t seemed to mind at all. Although, there was the moment she’d acciden-tally hit him across the face, but surely he couldn’t hold her accountable for that.
It was his own fault after all. Her grin slipped wide. His own villainous fault.
Heat soared into her cheeks, and she released a sigh. Perhaps she should go in search of him to apologize? She looked up at the ceiling, reasoning it out. The thought didn’t feel right at all.
A click at the door alerted her to someone’s approach. She tugged the blankets closer and peered around the bed curtain. With quiet steps, Frederick entered the room, tray in hand, looking deliciously disheveled in his breeches and partially buttoned shirt. He placed the tray of tea and sandwiches on a nearby table and stoked the fire, his bare forearms glinting gold in the firelight.
Her body warmed from the sight as if she hadn’t seen a set of forearms before, but they werehisforearms. And that made all the difference. She traced a finger over her grin. Perhapsshewas rather villainous too. She held her breath, waiting to gauge his reaction to her. If he frowned, she’d apologize profusely for her own villainy, but if he smiled…
His gaze found hers, surprise softening to a smile.A smile.“Hello, darling.”
She sighed as the sound of his voice left a trail of tingles across her shoulders. “I’m so relieved you came back.”
A laugh shot from him. “Of course I came back. Why on earth would I stay away?”
She smoothed the blankets around her, heat rising into her cheeks. “Well, I thought perhaps I’d either failed to please you, which seemed unlikely from your vigorous response, or you were horrified by my…enthusiasm.”
He chuckled and approached the bed. A look she was beginning to recognize as quite rascally flamed to life in his eyes. “If you continue to make such a valiant effort to please me, Lady Astley, we may never leave this bedroom.”
“Do you mean you weren’t offended by my fervor?”
“Offended?” He sat on the bed and leaned in to kiss her, so gently her body swelled forward to extend the delightful embrace. “If half the women in England showed love with such fervor, there would be a sudden increase of satisfied marriages.”
She smoothed her palm over his shirt. “I have no point of reference, so I’m experimenting as we go.”
“Then count me as a willing subject.” He brushed a hand against her cheek, his thumb tracing the edge of her lips. “Experiment away.” He kissed her nose, her lips, then her chin. “Despite my past, dear Grace, I am quite a novice atloving.And you, my darling, love very well.”
A shadow passed over his expression. Hints of his past, thoughts of other women came to mind. She shoved them away. He’d never been married except to her, and in this one act, they’d chosen each other. “It’s a rather fabulous invention, isn’t it?”
He drew back from kissing her temple, his brow raised. “Invention?”
“Yes.” She placed both of her palms on his cheeks, tracing the curve of his jawline. “When God says two shall become one flesh, I never understood, but we’re one. You and me. I—I belong to you, and you belong to me.”
