He let out a relieved breath. “I am so glad. And are you angry with me for taking so long?”
“I am not angry,” she said uncertainly. “Should I be?”
“I am sorry we are here in this inn for our first night together as man and wife. It is not as I hoped it would be. You must blame your poor roads for breaking the axle.”
She sat up abruptly in the darkness, her hair cascading about her. “Really! Are your Holtswig roads any better?”
Was he laughing? “Your temper can be fiery,” he said admiringly. “So youareangry with me?”
“If I was angry with you, I would have barred the door and left you to sleep in the stables,” she said tartly.
He did not answer, and she wanted to groan. Was she really arguing with him on their wedding night?
“Roberta,” he said quietly. His fingers brushed against her. Hefound her petticoat and began to explore the cloth, as if he was trying to decide what she was wearing. She opened her mouth to explain about the absence of her pretty nightgown, but he spoke again. “Iamsorry. Our wedding night was meant to be…Well, as Ernest revealed, I had planned to make it a memorable occasion.”
She laughed. “Itismemorable.”
“You know what I mean. I wanted it to be something we could look back on and see as the beginning of our long and happy marriage.”
Roberta wriggled down into the bed again, turning onto her side to face him. “Is that what you think? We will have a long and happy marriage?”
“Most definitely.”
“What did you plan?” she asked curiously. “Tell me.”
“We were to spend the night at the house my aunt leased near Dover. I arranged for champagne and an intimate supper for two. And roses, lots of roses. I wanted us to be completely alone together, no one knocking on the door or asking me to sort out problems of state—or anything, really. Just you and me.”
It did sound lovely, but even as she imagined it, another thought occurred to her. “You don’t think in such a perfect setting we might have felt pressured? I mean, when we…when you…” She broke off, unable to find the words to continue.
He said nothing, but she knew he was listening, so she hurried on, trying to explain herself.
“Niki, I know you have had many intimate experiences. You are a man, and a prince. Women would flock to you. I mean, they would flock not just because you are a prince, but you are a handsome man, and you are desirable. Unlike me,” she continued,hearing herself babbling but unable to stop. “Not that I am a man and desirable, but I have not had any intimate experiences. We have kissed, but I don’t know a great deal of what comes afterward. I mean, Iknowwhat comes afterward, but only by observing the behavior of horses and one time at Estelle Longhurst’s when I spied upon a lady and gentleman in a cupboard, but it was very cramped in there, and they were making a lot of noise, and I couldn’t reallysee—”
Niki reached out and found her face, and the next moment, he was kissing her. It was certainly effective when it came to stopping her mouth. Now he was kissing her as her husband, it did feel strange at first.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered, shifting slightly, nuzzling against her cheek and then her ear. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No, don’t stop,” she said breathlessly.
He kissed her again, small, quick kisses against the side of her neck, traveling down to her collar bone, his breath warm on her skin and yet raising goose bumps. “You taste very nice.” His voice was muffled.
Her breasts ached, the nipples rising to hard little nubs, and she realized then that kissing could be a whole-body experience.
He found her mouth this time in long and languid kisses, while his hand cupped her breast, squeezing gently. Well, that was very nice. She pressed against him, seeking more, and he left her mouth and found the peak of her breast, his mouth dampening her petticoat. She drew away slightly and tugged at it, and then he was helping her. The garment was tossed to one side, andthen she felt his naked body against hers. More muscular, hairier too, as his thigh pressed between hers. His hands cupped her hips as he groaned out words she did not recognize.
Ah, she thought feverishly,he is speaking in the Holtswig language.
Then they were kissing again and everything about it, about him, made her ache and tingle, and she wanted him. He wanted her too. She felt him hard against her thigh, but he seemed to be waiting, letting her decide when they should take that ultimate step.
“Please,” she said, and reached down to stroke him. “I want to.”
He rose above her, his mouth covering hers, notching himself into the apex of her thighs. She arched against him, eager now, wanting this experience that others spoke of in such contradictory terms. And then she felt the push of him inside her, finding his way through her swollen flesh and sending tingles of sensation into her belly. She gasped, clutching her hands about his waist, feeling the muscles tightening in his buttocks with each movement.
“There,” he said, with a note almost of wonder. “We are one.”
She stretched up to kiss his chin—the rest of his face was somewhere above her head—and then licked down his throat, tasting salt and sweat. They were both perspiring with effort, but the slickness of their naked bodies and the intimacy of his touch was unlike anything she had ever known. It was addictive. But surely this wasn’t all?
She wriggled, and he caught his breath. She realized then that he was waiting again, allowing her to become accustomed to the strangeness of this act, and therewasmore. She wriggled again, and with a groan, he began to move against her, getting fasterwith each thrust—and less practiced too, as if he could no longer restrain himself.
