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Marcella’s lips slightly parted, and she raised a hand to them, as if the memory of the kiss was imprinted forever on her body. “It was an error in judgment.”
Even as she said that, she took a step towards him. Her head tilted up, and she gazed at him with brilliant hazel eyes, as if she were drawn to him by some force which was beyond the understanding of both of them.
“An error of judgment,” Reginald agreed. “I think it’s one you’d like to make again, isn’t it? Because it’s not just that you want to have a choice or that you want to write. It’s that you’re too adventurous for a life which requires you to be cold and restrained. You kissed me because you’d never kissed a man before, and you wanted desperately to know how that felt.”
“So what if you’re right?” Marcella asked, her tone nearly breathless. “I’ll grant you that. Yes, you’re quite right.”
“Thank you,” Reginald replied. “I’m glad you see things my way.”
Marcella’s smile was genuine and brilliant. Reginald’s eyes lingered on those lips, as plump and inviting as cherries or strawberries. He was heady, his senses muddled and consumed by the lady’s floral and orange perfume. She was the stuff of dreams, and his fingers itched to pull her body against his and to leave kisses upon that pale, slender throat.
“Where does this leave us, then?” she asked lowly. “You’ve caught me. What do you plan to do with that knowledge, Reginald?”
It was a challenge. Reginald slowly smiled. “I think you know exactly what I’d like to do with that knowledge, Marcella. Why are you dancing around the matter?”
She straightened and went to the tips of her toes. The lady’s head tilted, and when her breath brushed against his jaw, Reginald’s blood roared inside his ears. She was so tantalizingly near him, as fragrant and lovely as any flower. He raised his hands and grasped her waist, his fingers digging into the finely woven material of her gown. Marcella let out a little gasp of air and tilted her head back further, giving Reginald a better view of that delectable, swan-like neck.
“I assume that you think yourself quite bold, Reginald,” she said. “Shall I tell you a secret?”
She grinned at him. Her proud countenance seemed to burn even brighter. It was as though in confessing her anger, she’d purged herself of it and left behind something new and passionate, something eager to be challenged.
“Oh, please, do.”
“I’m bolder,” she said.
Marcella put her hands upon his shoulders and kissed him. She was too quick and haphazard in her movements. The kiss was merely a quick, rough brushing of lips and ended in an instant. When she pulled back, her eyes were wide and her lips parted.
Reginald’s mouth tingled, and fire rushed through his veins. She was his beautiful, fiery wife, and whatever other complicated feelings they might have for one another, inthisthey seemed to be of one mind.
Feeling emboldened, Reginald pulled her against him. She let out a startled cry of surprise as their bodies met one another’s. He kept his hands over her delicate hips, his fingers bunching the fabric was her waist and sending small, spider-thin wrinkles through the fine material. Her hands pressed against his chest. Reginald waited a heartbeat to see if the lady’s intention was to put some barrier between them, but her hands wandered, exploring the planes of his chest. Her touch left a tingling fire in its wake, and suddenly, the fabric of his shirt and jacket all felt like too much. His own clothes were like a gulf between himself and Marcella.
He dipped his head and kissed her. Their lips met slowly but hungrily, and every taste of her only increased the fire curling in his belly. Reginald felt as though he was engulfed in a raging inferno, as though he was a man thirsting for release, and he could find that release only in the embrace and touch of Marcella.
She moaned into his mouth, and her hands trailed down his chest to his stomach. “Oh,” Marcella murmured. “Oh, I—I’ve never…”
“There’s a first time for everything,” Reginald replied.
He kissed her again, and when her lips slightly parted, he dared to run his tongue along her lower lip. Marcella tensed beneath his touch, and her hands curled into the fabric of his shirt, nearly pulling it from the confines of his jacket.
“I’ve never read about this part,” she said, nearly breathless. “All the novels end with a marriage, so I’ve never—I don’t know what to expect. I didn’t know I could feel this much.”
Every one of Marcella’s quickly uttered words went straight to his heart and then to other places, which were not thought of in polite company. In his mind’s eye, Reginald saw Marcella stripped of that beautiful gown. He could imagine her full bosom quivering, her body tense and ready, against the fine bed linens.
He dared to let his hands drift a little lower, and Reginald anticipated that she would pull them away. She didn’t. Instead, her delicate hands curled over his own, and she coaxed them down further.
“We—we should go to the bedroom,” he said. “We shouldn’t go any further here.”
Anne might still be around, although in his eagerness to touch Marcella and to taste her sweet lips once more, the maid’s presence had faded to the fog of his mind, nearly forgotten.
Marcella’s eyes were distant, as if a sort of pleasant haze had come over her whole being. “To the bedroom,” she said.
Reginald swallowed. Her body felt so hot beneath his fingers, so real and lively. He wondered if the fabric of her gown, which felt as delicate and light as her, would rip if he tried to tear it. His throat was dry, and all his thoughts focused on her body. She looked like a rose in bloom, all flushed and open to the morning sun.
“If you wish,” he said, his voice raspy. “If you wish, we can go to the bedroom, and we can consummate the marriage. I’ll let you decide what we do. If you don’t want to, we don’t have to.”
“Lead the way, then,” she said.
Reginald grinned victoriously, and keeping one hand wrapped around his wife’s, he led her up the stairs. Part of him was tempted to sweep Marcella off her feet and literally carry her. Slowing his pace was agony, but Marcella couldn’t match his quick stride.
