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“Thank you, Mrs. Osbourne,” Arabella said. She looked at Charles, her heart racing. “I’ll meet you upstairs in a while,” she told him. Her gown had a row of buttons down the back. She had a brand new peignoir, which Annette had promised to have ready when she arrived.
He leaned in to kiss her, his lips warm against her own. “I’m not waiting,” he replied. “Come.”
Anticipation made her skin tingle. She lifted her skirts, and then walked up the stairs. Annette was waiting in the bedroom. Arabella hadn’t yet been in here.
“You can head down, Annette,” Charles said.
“Very well, Sir,” she replied, curtsied. “Goodnight, Madam.”
“Goodnight, Annette,” Arabella replied as her lady’s maid left them alone in the room together.
Arabella looked around at the room. The curtains were a dark blue, as well as the curtains on the bed. There was a soft blue and gold coverlet. A fire had been built up in the grate, and there were several candles lit.
“Come here,” Charles said. She turned to him. He placed his hands on her waist, drawing her to him. She turned her face upwards, pressing her lips to his. “Turn around,” he told her.
She turned, glad that he was taking charge. She had no idea what to do. He began to unhook the line of silk-covered buttons at her back. The heady rush that accompanied his unwrapping her was overwhelming. She smiled to herself.
It’s like I’ve been gift-wrapped.
He reached the bottom buttons, slipping his fingers underneath the cloth at her shoulders, pushing it off so that her wedding dress fell to the ground. He began to unlace her corset. Her heart was pounding. She was wrapped in desire, which built as her corset was loosened. She wondered what he would think of her.
I wonder what he’s thinking, right now.
He finished, his fingers drawing the sleeves of her corset downward. His fingers brushed against her skin, his touch like fire. It fell to the ground, baring her skin. She felt a slight chill, and the thrill of revealing all. His lips pressed to the nape of her neck.
She bit her lip as she turned toward her husband, letting him look at her. His mouth was open, his lips parted. His eyes seemed to drink her in. She stared back at him boldly. She stepped closer to him. He reached out, running a finger along her collarbone.
“What happened here?” he asked as he touched her scar.
She smiled—her mother had always seen to it that her dresses covered it. When it had occurred, her mother had been beside herself with the thought that she would be considered marked.
“There was a time when I was a girl that my father wouldn’t allow me to fence. I made one of the stable boys fence me. I didn’t have any protective gear on, and I was stabbed in the shoulder with a fire iron.”
He leaned in, kissing it. Arabella felt adored, letting her head fall back as he trailed kisses along the line of the scar. Once he was done, she opened her eyes, lowering her chin.
He’s as much mine, as I am his.
She reached up, undoing his jacket buttons. He helped her, taking off his jacket, then he untucked his shirt, pulling off over his head. She looked at his chest—the tight, flat muscles—the candlelight flickered on his skin.
She reached for the buttons. He let her undo them, then he pulled them down. He placed a hand on her cheek, pulling her toward him. They kissed, their shared desire causing them to hunger for each other. When he pulled away, he lifted her up. She let him carrying her over to the bed, where he set her down on top of the soft coverlet.
“Touch me, Charles,” she said. She wanted him to know how she craved his touch. To finally be able to demand it, and have what she had long wanted from him was the most wonderful thing.
This is even better than when it was in my mind.
He put his hands on her, his palms running over her breasts, her curves, along the outsides of her thighs. He leaned over her, kissing her. She ran her fingers through his hair.
He trailed kisses down her throat, along the scar on her collarbone. She moaned as he took one of her nipples in between his teeth. Arabella experienced a riot of sensations—as he sucked, he parted her netherlips, his finger dipping inside of her.
He buried his face against her neck, his breath warm against her skin.
“What are you doing?” she purred.
“It won’t hurt as much if you’re ready for me, darling,” he replied, continuing, until she was panting. She had never known that there was so much pleasure to be had. Her mother had certainly never told her anything of the sort.
“Are you happy?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied. “Now come here.” She wanted him inside of her. He entered her, moving slowly, in and then out. She gritted her teeth as the small bit of skin tore. It was but a moment of pain, and then it was over, and she felt nothing but pleasure.
