To Protect An Heiress (Zebra Historical Romance) (17 page)

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Authors: Adrienne Basso

BOOK: To Protect An Heiress (Zebra Historical Romance)
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“Hmmm.” Her face and neck were flushed, her eyes wild and wanton. He adjusted their bodies, trying to keep his strokes slow and shallow, but soon found himself pressing against the resistance of her maidenhead.
“Try not to tense your muscles,” he whispered. He held her hips steady in his hands and thrust forward, piercing the membrane, penetrating her completely in one deep stroke.
She cried out again, a mixture of shock and wonder. He expected her to stiffen and lie still or try to pull away from him. Instead she lifted herself up so she could press tender kisses to his cheek and jaw and throat.
His senses exploded. No longer capable of thrusting into her with detached control, he gripped her hips hard, thumbs digging into the soft, tender flesh, and he pumped vigorously with almost mindless, insistent urgency.
The pressure built to unbearable heights, and then Trevor felt the shudder begin, the blessed release. His entire body strained and convulsed as the climax overtook him, spilling his seed violently deep inside her tender flesh, nearly at the opening of her womb.
He tried not to collapse on top of her, to spare her his crushing weight, but she hugged him so fiercely he fell forward. For a long moment he lay there, the sound of his ragged breathing echoing through the room.
Gradually he came to his senses. Trevor raised his head slowly. A span of several heartbeats passed before he found the courage to gaze at the woman sprawled beneath him—his wife, now in body as well as name.
A blush of color stained her pale cheeks and her eyes were half closed. He brushed the hair out of her face, wondering if she was still in pain, hoping he had not embarrassed or upset her too much.
Her eyes fluttered open. “Is that it? Is it over?”
“Yes.” He rolled off to the side. Her simple questions confirmed what he expected. What he intended, really. She had not reached climax.
She was too inexperienced to realize it, of course. Proof of that came to him when she turned and snuggled close to him and sighed contentedly. He had brought her some measure of pleasure, some measure of enjoyment, but not the ultimate release, the ultimate intimacy.
For he knew that by satisfying one need he would be creating another.
“ ’Tis late,” he said softly. “I should leave you to your rest.”
“No!” Her arms tightened around his neck. Then she lowered her head in embarrassment. “Please, stay a while longer.”
His fingers trailed over her bare shoulder. Her skin was so soft and smooth, so daintily white and unblemished. Trevor ran his hands through the lengths of golden hair that hung down her back. He caught a whiff of the lust that hung heavy in the air and felt his body begin to stir. He should leave, before she managed to arouse him once more. Yet he made no move to abandon his pleasant bower, allowing her to intertwine her leg intimately with his.
He felt her fingers twisting through the hair on his chest as he began to drift off to sleep. Unconsciously, his arms tightened around her. His eyelids closed as emotions and fatigue claimed him.
Meredith watched him sleep. When the slow rise and fall of his chest became a steady rhythm, she propped her elbow at an angle and rested her head upon her hand to gain a better view.
She gazed at him for a long time, like a love-struck fool, warning herself again and again not to wish for the stars or expect the impossible. The marquess was a difficult man to love, and the road she had chosen would not be an easy one to travel. Yet stubbornly she refused to give up hope.
Coming to his father’s house had taken a toll on his emotions. Even in slumber his handsome face seemed drawn, flushed with weariness.
Meredith leaned forward, dropped a quick kiss on his shoulder, then carefully slid from the bed. Her body ached in odd places and her inner thighs were sticky with his seed. She went to the washstand and poured a small amount of water into the porcelain bowl.
Meredith soaked a linen cloth, then carefully cleansed herself. Her body still throbbed from his possession. Yet as she ran the cloth over her tender flesh, she could not dispel the restless feeling that there should have been more.
There had been joy and wonder in their lovemaking, but there had also been an urgency, a frantic sense of reaching for something—something that was not there. Love? Meredith was unsure. It could hardly be necessary to be in love to achieve complete sexual fulfillment.
Her dashing husband was the perfect illustration of that theory. He most definitely was not in love with her, yet he had experienced something far more earth-shattering than she. Perhaps only men so easily achieved this blissful state?
Yet Meredith distinctly recalled that during that embarrassing and rather graphic conversation her mother had initiated about marital relations, there was mention of mutual pleasure and mutual enjoyment—passion so intimate it could make the body sing, surrender so complete one lost all sense of self-protection and simply gave and gave until they were free and satiated.
That was the sort of physical intimacy Meredith was hoping to someday achieve with her husband. Given his rakish reputation and experience with the female sex, she suspected he knew precisely how that was accomplished. All she need do now was somehow convey her desire to him.
With a philosophical frown, Meredith returned to the bed. Trevor stirred, but did not awaken as she climbed in beside him. For a moment she was disappointed. If he woke up, they would be able to engage in more lovemaking, perhaps this time reaching the heights of that elusive shattering pleasure.
Blushing at her wanton thoughts, Meredith laid back against her pillow. She turned and took up her favorite position, with her head resting comfortably against the solid muscle of Trevor’s chest. He shifted, then wrapped his arms securely around her. She smiled. A part of him must truly want her, even if the waking side of him had yet to realize it.
All was quiet and still around them. Beneath her cheek Meredith could hear his heart beating. The comforting sound lulled her into a peaceful sleep.
Meredith awoke alone. It was not a great surprise, but rather a big disappointment. Her mouth set in a thin line as she lay in the bedchamber flooded with morning sunshine, trying to decide if she should take breakfast in her bedchamber or brave the dining room.
Eating in the dining room would increase the chances of seeing her husband. It would also increase the chances of seeing her new father-in-law.
Deciding there was really no way to achieve one goal without facing the consequences of the other, Meredith rang for her maid. She did not linger over her morning toilet, but took care to select one of her more flattering gowns, a simple muslin creation of sapphire blue that set off her eyes.
Once Rose had helped her dress, Meredith descended the stairs in search of breakfast and mentally prepared herself to tangle with the two new men in her life.
As she expected, the duke was seated at the head of the breakfast table, coffee cup in hand, a newspaper spread across the table. There was no sign of the marquess.
“I had not thought to see you this morning,” the duke exclaimed. “Or even for the rest of today.”
Meredith took a much needed deep breath. “I was hungry and in need of a stroll. I hope you do not object if I join you.”
She stood with her head high and waited for the footman to draw out the chair beside the duke. Her father-in-law seemed startled by her choice of seats and quickly scooped up the paper to make room for the plate of food another servant placed in front of Meredith.
“Take this away, Higgins,” the duke commanded, thrusting the waded sheets toward a footman.
“Oh, please, do not abandon your paper for me.”
The duke eyed her suspiciously for a moment, as if testing her sincerity. He must have reasoned she meant what she said, for he slowly dropped the crumpled mess back onto the mahogany table.
“There’s an announcement of your marriage in the society section,” he said wryly.
Meredith nodded. She spread a thin, even layer of raspberry jam on her toast, then lifted her head. “Trevor must have instructed his secretary yesterday to make sure it was done. The marquess can be extremely efficient in certain matters.”
“When it suits him,” the duke remarked with a frown.
Meredith raised an eyebrow. She felt the duke’s keen gaze upon her. Sensing he was testing her, Meredith refused to rise to the bait. As much as she felt she needed an ally in this house, she was not about to take sides against her husband in the battle with his father.
“Good morning.”
Meredith looked up to see the marquess enter the room. He was dressed for riding, and the sheen of sweat upon his brow suggested he had already been out putting his mount through its paces. Meredith cautioned herself not to react. Though it was rather lowering for a bride to be left for a horse, it was even more disgraceful to let others know she was hurt.
Trevor’s voice and manner were very matter-of-fact, but she could feel the highly coiled impatience in his body as he waved off the eager footman and went to the sideboard to serve himself some breakfast.
“Ah, good morning, Trevor,” the duke called out. “I was just telling Meredith that I did not expect to see either of you today. Or tomorrow. ’Tis your honeymoon!”
Meredith had no idea how these words affected her husband, for he concealed his reaction admirably. And he completely ignored his father’s comments.
Trevor circled around the table to take the chair beside her. Meredith’s skin tingled when Trevor accidentally brushed against her back while taking his seat. Thinking it best not to meet his eyes, she kept her own firmly directed at her plate.
“The butler has informed me that numerous invitations addressed to us have been received this morning,” the marquess said. “Have you had an opportunity to sort through them, Meredith?”
Startled, she glanced up. “No. I have not even seen them.”
The marquess impatiently drummed his fingers upon the table. “I already have plans for this evening that were made weeks before our sudden marriage. I suppose if there are events you wish to attend tonight, I can prevail upon Viscount Aarons or Mr. Doddson to escort you.”
Meredith felt herself flushing, which she particularly hated doing in front of both her husband and father-in-law In an uncharacteristic fit of pique, she decided Lady Anne Smithe was probably never flustered or blushing around her male relations.
“It is hardly necessary for you to fob me off on your friends, my lord. I assure you, I can take care of myself.”
Trevor’s burning eyes suggested he was not pleased by her show of independence, but Meredith was beyond caring. He regarded her with a frown for what felt like an eternity, then finally said, “As you wish.”
It was exactly the opposite of what Meredith wished, but she would cut her tongue out before saying so. The duke looked as if he were bursting to voice his opinion on the matter, but he must have understood the silent plea she cast his way, because he remained quiet.
Trevor’s rejection stung. Yet if the marquess did not want her to be a part of his life, she would not beg for his attention or even demand it. Years of observing males had taught Meredith one very important lesson. Most of them did not react well to being prodded or nagged.
Conversation among them resumed. As befitting the members of a civilized society, they spoke of inconsequential matters in modulated tones, though the tension was thick and oppressive.
When the pile of food from Trevor’s plate had disappeared completely, he rose. “I wish you both a pleasant day. And evening.” He inclined his head and stepped away from the table.
Not trusting her voice, Meredith merely nodded her head. Though she wanted nothing more than to retreat to the privacy of her chambers, she sat and sipped her tea.
“It would seem to me your new husband is not all that interested in spending time in your company.” The duke brushed his linen napkin fleetingly across his mouth. “What are going to do about it?”
I do not know!
Those desperate words rattled around in Meredith’s mind, but she refrained from speaking them. It made her feel weak to admit she was so easily defeated. “ ’Tis the fashion for couples to lead separate, independent lives.”

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