Page 27 of Loving Mister Stratford
Odette tied off her plait and stared down at the gold ring on her finger. An opal cabochon was flanked on either side by triangular-cut deep blue sapphires. It was unique and unusual. And she loved everything about it. Of course, she would have been happy with a simple band–or even no ring at all—but the surprise of it had been as equally thrilling as the piece itself. She hadn’t been able to take her eyes off the piece. Never in her dreams had she contemplated owning such a beautiful, expensive piece of jewelry. Then again, never had she thought she’d marry a man such as Simon.
The thud of boots echoed up the hallway, growing louder with each step before finally halting just outside her door.
Odette’s heart began to race, increasing its speed more with every second of silence. Simon had earlier quit the room under the guise of offering her privacy to change from her traveling dress in peace and to have a quick word with the innkeeper.
The entire carriage ride to the inn had been silent, neither quite seeming to know how to fill the silence. He sat beside her on the comfortable forward-facing cushion, but not once did his knee so much as brush against hers.
Forced to find her own entertainment, she’d enjoyed the shifting scenery, watched as they drove over the rolling hills and the outskirts of villages, beneath the shady canopies afforded by copses of trees…but she had also caught Simon watching her intently on far more than one occasion. He’d opened his mouth as if to say something or shifted in his seat as if to move closer, but none of it ever came to fruition. Instead, she’d passed the time fiddling with her skirts and twisting a spare scrap of ribbon around her fingers while he tapped his thumb against his knee and pretended to read the book in his lap—she knew it was pretending because even she had memorized the first paragraph by the time they arrived at their destination.
The Silver Hind was a popular travelers’ inn on a well-ridden route along the coast between Kent and London, and it catered to well-off clientele in search of comfortable beds and quality food. Prior to the wedding ceremony, the earl had offered to send them on a honeymoon trip but Simon had resisted, saying he couldn’t possibly leave his work at such a crucial point. A compromise was attempted when the seaside was suggested—it was far enough to give them privacy, but not so far that Simon wouldn’t be able to lug along his trunks—it was decided that they’d stop there for the night on their way back to Town. They were foregoing a traditional honeymoon trip to, instead, take the time to set up their own house. It all seemed rather appropriate given the fact that there was nothing really traditional about any aspect of their relationship.
Yanked back to the present, Odette watched as the door handle finally began to turn and, in just those seconds, everything her mother had told her about her wedding night came flooding back with as much force as the disintegration of a dam. To her mortification, she was privy to the general mechanics of the act in which she’d now be expected to participate. Her mother, being the consummate professional she was, then insisted upon educating her further…because it was integral to playing any role to go above and beyond. Odette had been enlightened as to how men liked to be touched, how they enjoyed it when women told them how wonderful they were, how some of them liked to feel in control, how a man might expect her to do things with her hands and her mouth—
All of it fled just as quickly when Simon’s head and shoulders appeared around the door. She decided in that moment that her eyes met his and his lips tilted into a small, charmingly unsure smile, that she would give herself to him without shame. She wouldn’t allow her mother’s extensive lesson to overpower her or make her nervous on what was to be the very first night spent in this man’s arms.
“Are you well?” he asked.
“Quite,” she croaked. Despite her best intentions, it was difficult not to be keenly aware that she was sitting before the fire in nothing but a thin white nightshift. Mostly modest, there were bands of lace inset in the sleeves and at the hem, lending little glimpses of pale skin when she moved. It was simultaneously virginal and seductive—another of her mother’s orchestrations.
“Is there anything else you need this evening?” Simon inquired, still only partially in the room.
She smiled bravely and shook her head.
There was another heartbeat’s hesitation before Simon stepped all the way into the room and pressed the door closed behind him. There was a resounding click as he twisted the heavy key in the lock without looking away from her. They remained there in a silence broken only by the light popping of the logs in the hearth until he finally pushed himself away and began unknotting his cravat with deft fingers. The long strip of fabric was then draped over the other wooden chair in the room. His dark coat soon followed, as did his gray waistcoat. Her eyes were riveted on the notch at the base of his throat revealed by his gaping collar. Every inch of her skin began to tingle.
Really, how could such an innocuous piece of flesh create such a reaction?
Her toes curled beneath the hem of her nightshift and she fought the urge to wiggle in her seat. A flush crept across her cheeks and the warmth spreading throughout her had nothing to do with the fire and everything to do with the embers burning in his blue-green eyes. So consumed was she by his neck that she didn’t realize just how close he was to her.
“Are you nervous?” His deep voice broke the spell. She tilted her head back to look all the way up into his face. She shook her head and his mouth tilted again in reply.“Do not lie.” The words weren’t unkind, but she still hesitated when he held out his hand to her. She accepted it and he gently pulled her to her feet.“Do not ever feel as if you need to lie to me. About anything. No matter how small.” He lowered his forehead to hers.“I took all of you today when we said our vows.” Odette’s stomach fluttered uncontrollably. The heat spread further and a liquid warmth pooled at the juncture of her thighs where she felt suddenly, unfamiliarly swollen and wet.
Her lips parted, but no sound came forth—what was she to say to something so honest? So raw?
She was saved from having to reply when Simon’s nose touched hers, grazing it from side to side, his mouth lowering incrementally. They’d kissed before—a few times, she was proud to say—but this was different. There was an undercurrent of anticipation of something more, something greater than she could ever hope to imagine. Something wild. Something the girls at school whispered about with feigned confidence, and the women of the theater smiled knowingly. His arms slipped around her waist, pulling her body flush with the lean strength of his a moment before their lips finally met.
If she’d believed their previous kisses to be passionate, then she’d been sorely mistaken. This mating of their mouths, the caress of their tongues and desperate clicking of teeth were so much more exciting, more volatile with promise than she’d ever believed possible. Her hands fisted in the fine fabric of his shirt and her knuckles were singed by the heat of his skin beneath the thin barrier. The sensation of every inch of his front held against hers was heady, indeed. One of his large hands slid down her back to cup the curve of her rear, pressing her lower body even more fully to his. She felt the unmistakable hardness of his arousal against the contrasting softness of her abdomen and silently cursed her mother—she had certainly downplayed this part of the male anatomy…though Odette supposed it was for the best. She might have been terrified had she truly known the size of what she might expect.
She gasped in delighted surprise when Simon broke their kiss and swept her into his arms, holding her high against his chest as if her weight was no more significant than a stack of his beloved books. He held her just as carefully, reverently, as he strode over to the bed and laid her down with infinite gentleness.
The bed was large—larger than Odette had expected from a travelers’inn—but she wasn’t going to complain, not when she knew she’d be sharing it with Simon’s large body. He braced his palms in the feather-stuffed pillows on either side of her head, gazing down at her intensely and intently as if peering into her very soul. She swore he could hear the rapid pounding of her poor heart and she briefly wondered if the organ might give out. Her nipples were becoming almost unbearably sensitive to the rubbing of the fabric of her nightshift, the hem of which had ridden up past her knees…though she couldn’t find it in her to care.
“Do you know what to expect?” Simon breathed. There was a very faint tremor to his normally cool and collected tone. It was as intoxicating as a liberal amount of fine wine to realize that this situation had shaken him so. Perhaps he wasn’t as unmoved by her as she’d once thought.
Odette could only nod mutely once before Simon placed one more deep, searing kiss on her lips. A small groan emanated from a bottomless well in his chest, but he pulled back all too soon, his hair slipping from her fingers.
When had her hands knotted themselves in the soft, short hair at the nape of his neck?
He leaned back and began to tug his shirt from his black breeches, her eyes watched his jerky motions with rapt attention and then widened at the lean expanse of smooth, sculpted skin revealed when he tugged the garment off over his head. He dropped the shirt in an uncharacteristically negligent manner and gazed down at her, his eyes never leaving hers as he began to undo the falls of his breeches. Odette’s cheeks flared more with every inch of him he revealed, the trail of coarse, dark blond hair leading from his navel to disappear beneath the fabric of his breeches and smallclothes, the thick ridge of his arousal barely disguised and held in check beneath his clothing. She only realized she was holding her breath when his fingers stalled. Her eyes flicked up to his face, where she already found him watching her.
“I should slow down,” Simon whispered hoarsely to himself. Odette’s brows knit together in confusion and she opened her mouth to tell him to continue—she didn’t think her nerves could take the onslaught and anticipation for much longer—but he knelt with one knee between her thighs and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“Y—You don’t want—”
“Oh, I want…very much…” Simon settled himself atop her, his forearms bracketing her head as he placed feather-light kisses to her cheeks, her brows, her chin, her jaw, the hammering pulse in her throat.“I simply want your pleasure more.” His words were hot puffs of air on her neck.
Her heart stopped.
She felt the gentle tugs of his nimble fingers as he undid the small bows securing the front of her nightshift. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss at every inch of skin revealed by his languorous ministrations.
