The Aristocrat by Catherine Coulter

Author:Catherine Coulter [Coulter, Catherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Daphne awoke at dawn, a bemused smile on her lips and smooth male skin under her palm. She became even more bemused when she realized that she was pressed tightly against Brant, facing him, one of his legs between hers, one of his arms thrown over her back. Her nightgown was up around her waist, and she could feel his belly pressed against hers.

She didn't budge. He felt so different from her, and very nice. Oh dear, she thought, jerking slightly, did he make love to me and I don't remember? Was I too sleepy to know what was happening? She frowned against his shoulder and lightly stroked her fingers down his back. He moved in his sleep, and his hairy leg moved upward between her thighs.

How dreadful! She hadn't lived through her wedding night, so to speak. But she didn't feel any change in herself. Surely she should feel different.

She thought about this for a while as she listened to her husband's even breathing and the steady thudding of his heart. From the books she'd read, the films she'd seen, she knew that she couldn't possibly be lying naked against him and he not have done anything. No, that was impossible. She'd been made love to, but she'd been too drugged to be aware of it. She groaned softly. I must look different, she thought. Slowly she eased herself away from him and came up on her knees on her side of the bed. He mumbled something in his sleep, flung one arm above his head and fell onto his back. The single sheet was around his knees. Daphne gulped. She'd never before seen a naked man. She'd seen a couple of pictures in a racy magazine once, but not everything.

Well, I'm seeing everything now. Lord, was he gorgeous. He wasn't covered with hair like many of the men she'd seen on the beach. Just enough, she thought, her hand tingling to touch him. Her inquisitive eyes followed the lovely line of hair down his belly to his... She pressed her palms against her cheeks in pleased embarrassment. She even loved the tuft of hair under his raised arm.

It must have happened, she thought again, and quietly scooted off the bed. She trailed to the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair looked like a bird's nest, her nightgown rumpled and ratty. But she looked like that most mornings, she thought. She touched her breasts, wondering if he'd felt her there.

She remembered the feel of his muscled leg between hers and gave a delicious shudder. It had certainly felt nice when she'd awakened.

She turned and looked back toward the bed. There was no door to the bedroom. In fact, the only door in the entire condo was the one to the shower. He'd moved slightly again, spreading his legs. She gulped, turned quickly away and pulled off her nightgown.

After a quick shower and shampoo, she crept out of the bathroom and looked at him again. He hadn't moved.

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