Page 114 of The Seduction of an English Scoundrel

Miranda leaned toward them, whispering, “Actually, we heard a rumor about you, Emma, and a certain man—”

“This,” Drake Boscastle announced to the guests seated around him, who, as a group, were a little less well behaved than those at the bridesmaids’ table, “is exactly why I hate weddings.”

Mrs. Parks arranged the pearls on her bosom and gave her sons a scowl against stuffing too much cake in their mouths. “Why is that?”

“All the emotion. I mean, look at Nigel’s mother bawling into her champagne. All the potential for disaster.”

“Except,” Mrs. Parks said in a wistful voice, “your brother really does love his bride.”

And Grayson did, openly, prompting a consensus of opinion among his acquaintances that the wedding was proof a Boscastle could be domesticated. A few of his more astute friends, however, interpreted the blazing possession in his eyes whenever he glanced at his wife to mean his wildness had not been quite strangled by the bonds of holy matrimony.

Two hours later he proved the point.

“Champagne in bed, and in the middle of the day,” Jane whispered, admiring the powerful lines of her husband’s chest as he removed his blue frock coat. “This is decadence.”

“Isn’t decadence under the pretense of decency what you wanted?” he asked, and took the half-empty glass from her hands.

She stretched up to kiss him, short teasing flicks of her tongue against his, heat rising between them like steam. “I think you know me a little too well.”

“I think you’re right,” he said in a husky voice.

He slid his large hands up her ribs to the lush contours of her breasts. She drew away, teasing him, to remove the petticoats he had untied.

His gaze traveled over her in burning anticipation. Her languid movements as she undressed, her back to the bed, taunted him. He lounged across the pillows, watching her through narrowed eyes, and felt his body heat, felt the potent rush of blood through his veins.

“Go ahead, tease me,” he murmured, pulling off his neckcloth. “In a few minutes I’ll have you begging for it.”

Her unbound hair swirled around her hips as she spun to the bed. There was not an inch of his wife that did not excite him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said with a mischievous smile.

“I think you do.”

She raised her leg on the bed for him to remove her white lace garters and stockings. The duty, his first as the lady’s husband, made him painfully hard. His heart thundered in his chest as he eased his hand around the curve of her calf to comply. Small intimacies such as this brought him deep pleasure.

The female scent that was hers alone heightened his animal instincts. Her gentle smile uplifted him. From the depths of his soul he was drawn to her. Slowly he peeled off the lace garters and stockings, one leg at a time. His eyes glistened with love and erotic intentions as she waited nude before him.

He rose and unfastened his breeches, his face dark with desire. She reached down to help him, sliding her hand inside his waistband. “Touch me like that, temptress, at your own peril,” he said, with a soft growl of approval.

“Like this?” she whispered, sliding her fingers down the silken length of him.

“You’re really asking for trouble.”

“Don’t I always?”

He pulled her against his hard, aroused body. “And don’t I always give it to you?”

“Yes, but not nearly often enough.”

He gave a low appreciative laugh. “That’s easily remedied.”

“Then remedy it, Grayson.” With a suggestive smile she began to unbutton his embroidered waistcoat and white linen shirt. “Or may I do the honors?”

“We’ll take turns, shall we?” he murmured, loving the way she responded to him, the passion in her nature. With her he was at peace, his best, the future a beacon of hope and happiness. The forever commitment they had made today only sweetened their sexual pleasure.

He finished undressing, then drew her into his arms.

His hands drifted over her creamy flesh, sculpting her curves like an artist; he needed to feel her against him. His entire body pulsed with pleasure at the thought of bedding her whenever he liked.