The Wedding Night by Barbara Dawson Smith

Author:Barbara Dawson Smith [Smith, Barbara Dawson]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780739443026
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2003-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

It felt strangely liberating to say that aloud, when she had tried so hard to repress her lust for him.

Samuel gave her a crooked smile. Then he pushed off his breeches and kicked them aside. As he turned to open a drawer in the bedside table, she was transfixed by his stark male beauty. The length and thickness of his male member displayed his passion for her, and a heated dampness gathered between her legs. But despite what she had told him, the prospect of taking him into her body stirred fear in the midst of fever.

She could still turn him away. He hadn't forced her on their wedding night, nor would he tonight. If she changed her mind, he would rant and he would coax, but ultimately he would respect her wishes.

Although a ruthless man in business and matters of revenge, Samuel had a contradictory core of kindness and generosity, a fascinating depth that he kept well hidden.

He sat down, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. His gaze roved over her, and an awareness of her nudity brought an accompanying shyness. In self-defense, she brought one arm over her breasts and the other to lie across her mound.

He moved her hands aside. "You're too beautiful to be covered."

"I'm not..." She .halted the automatic protest and amended, "I'm not accustomed to this."

His shrewd eyes studied her. "You were about to say you aren't beautiful."

"But it's true." She had been gawky and timid as a child. Even now, when she looked into the mirror, she saw no sign of her mother's vivacious loveliness. "The duchess was the glamorous one. Men flocked to her."

"Men flock to you, too." Samuel grimaced, baring his white teeth. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but I certainly have."

Cassie laughed softly in disbelief. "Do you mean Walt? He and Philip and Bertie are in my literary group, that's all." She thought briefly of those two letters from a secret admirer, but now was not the time to fret over his identity.

"Don't forget Jamison and MacDermot. They adore you, too." Samuel splayed his hand over her abdomen, where it lay for a moment, hot and heavy. "Not that any of them will ever have you."

She thrilled to his possessiveness, even as her mind rebelled against it. Was he so jealous of her friendships? Didn't he know she had held her marriage vows sacred? Even if he had not.

Then she noticed a small blue vial in his other hand. He poured a small measure of liquid into his palm and set the bottle on the bedside table. As he rubbed his hands together, she caught the scent of musk and roses.

"What is that?" she asked.

"Oil. To relax you."

"But I'm not... oh."

He took hold of her hand and massaged it, then moved along her arm in leisurely strokes that grew increasingly closer to her bosom. Before he reached there, he gave the same attention to her other arm, starting at the tips of her fingers and working a path upward. She felt so limp, she might have been a rag doll.

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