Captain Fawley’s Innocent Bride by Annie Burrows

Author:Annie Burrows
Language: ron
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

She reminded him of a bristling alley cat when she finally stalked into his bedroom. Her eyes

were snapping, her fists were clenched at her sides, and if she’d had a tail, it would have been

twitching.

She had never looked more beautiful.

Wondering what it would take to goad his very correct young wife into losing her tenuous grip on

her temper, he eyed her ill-fitting nightwear, and said,‘Take it off.’

She did not mistake his meaning, and, though her eyes narrowed, she just tugged the ties of her

wrapper open, flung the garment to the floor and kicked it away from her feet.

And stood before him gloriously, furiously naked.

78

‘Satisfied?’ she demanded, planting her hands on her hips.

‘Not yet,’ he growled, though he knew satisfaction was not far off. It had not escaped his notice

that tonight she had left her hair loose. Anticipating his demands. ‘Get into bed now.’

The smouldering look that went with that peremptory command scythed right through her anger.

Dropping her gaze to the folded-back edges of the bedcovers, she clambered in beside him.

Immediately, he hooked his arm round her waist and pulled her close. His weight pressed her

back into the pillows as he kissed her forcefully.

‘Ohh…’ She shuddered when, eventually, he paused to draw breath. She wondered whether it

was silly of her to feel flattered that he had not hesitated, as he had done the night before. She

must have pleased him, though she was so inexperienced, for him to have set to work so

swiftly.

‘Oh, indeed,’ he murmured thickly against her throat.

As his mouth worked hungrily against her neck, she felt as though she was melting. He raised

himself slightly, just far enough so that he could run his tongue around the delicate whorls of her

ear, and she found that she was running her hands up and down his flanks. He nipped the lobe

gently with his teeth. She hooked her leg over his, so that she could run her foot over the calf

muscles.

And they went up in flames, just as they had done the night before.

Deborah was amazed that he could want her with such ferocity, in the darkness of their bed,

when by daylight, he did not seem to want her anywhere near him. But her awareness of how

little she meant to him did not stop her from responding with her own fierce delight. And

marvelling that this time, when he finally entered her, there was no pain, only an intensifying of

her own pleasure.

Afterwards, they sank back into the soft feather mattress, side by side, not quite touching,

though she was aware of every breath he took. She felt as though she was waiting for

something from him. Some sign. And wondered why she should suddenly feel wary, when they

had just been so closely engaged.

It was a bit like a truce after a bloody battle, she mused, when each side gave the other time to

collect their wounded from the field of combat, each aware of the other, but in no fit state to

engage in further action. They had even communicated their passion through their sighs and

moans, neither of them quite daring to shatter their tenuous bubble of harmony by putting

anything into words.

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