Page 58 of The Marquess and the Maiden

She laughed and felt her shoulders relax. “I know you well enough to know you would never mistreat a servant.”

He moved away from her then and went over to a table across the room, where he opened a decanter and poured two glasses of amber-colored liquor.

“Here, sip slowly. It will help with your nerves.” He handed her the glass.

She brought it to her lips and took a small swallow.

He took her other hand in his. “You do know I will never hurt you in any way?”

Her body? Yes, she knew that. Her heart, she wasn’t so certain.

…

Hell, he’d not intended to use his bar tonight, but he’d already been so bloody hard for her, he’d thought taking the edge off by punishing his body might help him. Then she’d burst in and her lust-filled eyes had devoured him. He’d never built his body for any reason other than to assist with the limitations of his leg. But that look on her face had been worth every sweat-filled time he’d spent on that damned bar.

The soft, shimmering shift cupped her breasts, not quite allowing him to see all of the details, but enough that his erection was back in full force. He had to take things slow with her, he knew that. She was a virgin; she’d need him to be tender, not rut her like a randy boy.

Her pink tongue darted out to lick a drop of the brandy off her lip. He nearly groaned. He set his own drink aside, untouched. Tonight would require him to have full use of his senses so he could better control himself.

She drank the last swallow of her brandy and let him take her glass.

“Feeling more relaxed?” he asked.

She took in a shaky breath. “Yes, I think so.”

“You looked so beautiful today, the perfect bride.”

She smiled. “Thank you. You selected a wonderful gown. Though I did wonder how you managed to order something with such a perfect fit.”

“I’ve measured enough items and designed structures, that I suppose I have an eye for that sort of thing.” He moved his hand to the curve at her waist. “This is stunning, too.” He let his eyes rove over her. Damned if he didn’t want to pick her up and toss her onto the bed, but doing so would be impossible with his leg. He could barely hold his own weight let alone anyone else’s.

He led her over to the bed and gently pushed her backward so she fell onto the mattress.

She bit down on her lip. “Please douse the light.”

God, he didn’t want to. He wanted to drink in his fill of her. With his eyes. With his mouth. With his cock. But tonight he’d indulge her. This first time. Then never again.

He turned and walked across the room to douse the lamp on his side table, then the one on his chest of drawers, and finally the one on his bedside table. Thankfully, the glow from the fireplace gave off some light.

He heard something hit the floor next to him, and when he reached out to Harriet, he found she’d removed her gown. Her bare skin was so soft.

Quickly, he relieved himself of his remaining clothes and climbed onto the bed.

She’d scooted herself fully onto the mattress and lay silent and still.

He leaned against her, his heavy erection pressed to her thigh. She sucked in a breath.

“I’m assuming you know about the goings-on between a husband and a wife in the bed?”

“Of course. I am a virgin, my lord, not a ninny.”

He chuckled. “Excellent, as I have no use for ninnies. Then again, I’ve never had a use for a virgin before, but with you it’s different. Everything with you is different.” He leaned down and kissed her throat; the pulse under his tongue leaped. He moved over to her mouth and slanted his across, putting forth all the passion he felt. Showing her precisely what he wanted to do to her body.

Her tongue slid against his, and he groaned. Her hands forked through his hair angling his head to meet her kiss. He lowered a hand to cup one breast. She moaned into his mouth and arched herself into his palm. Her nipple beaded under his touch.

“I’ve had dreams about these breasts,” he murmured.

She giggled.

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