One Golden Ring. Cheryl Bolen
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Название: One Golden Ring
Автор: Cheryl Bolen
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Исторические любовные романы
isbn: 9781420132618
isbn:
“Her own grandchild? That doesn’t seem terribly Christian to me.”
He shrugged.
Fiona tried to remember what Trevor had said about Mrs. Birmingham’s origins. Oh yes, he had said she was crass. Fiona could not in her wildest dreams believe a gentleman as fine as Nick could be the spawn of a crass woman.
They sat in silence the next few minutes, her thoughts a jumble. She was disappointed that Nick had been involved with a woman who must have been a whore, yet she was oddly pleased that he had risked personal censure for the sake of rescuing an innocent child. She sucked in her breath. If they were to have children together—and she did so desperately want to have children—Nick would be a fine father.
But surely he would not expect her to be a mother to his illegitimate child! Her hands dug into the plush velvet seat. She wasn’t ready to discuss this further with him. It would take time for her to adjust to the disappointing reality.
They spoke hardly at all during the three-hour ride to Camden Hall. His bride was obviously distressed to learn of Emmie’s existence. Perhaps he should have taken Adam’s advice and stuck the child away in a boarding school. Such an action would have indicated his wife was more important to him than his own child. He had not wanted to live in a world where he would have to rank those he cared about, where he would have to choose one loved one over another. Nick was a great believer in harmony. Why could Fiona not embrace his daughter? Surely she could repay him in some way for the fortune he was putting up to make her his wife.
Then he remembered she planned to repay him tonight. A smoldering heat began to burn inside him as he thought of what lay ahead for them that night. He lifted her hand and began to peel off her glove, finger by agonizing finger until the glove was removed. He filled with pride as he eyed the golden ring, then pressed a lingering kiss into the cup of her palm as his fiery eyes met hers.
“Nick,” she whispered softly as her other hand lifted to stroke his face.
He pulled her into his arms for a hungry kiss. The kiss was harsh and wet and unbelievably intense as her lips parted beneath his, as she began to make little whimpering sounds. His hands began to move possessively over her, stroking her creamy shoulders, splaying over her back, then cupping her small breasts, his thumb feathering along the tip of her nipple.
Who would ever have thought his delicate little wife capable of such passion? Her reaction to him was more intoxicating than an entire bottle of champagne.
The coach lurched to a stop, and he lifted the curtain. He had not been aware that it had turned dark outside or that they were already at Camden Hall.
Chapter 6
He was hungry, but not for the food served to them shortly after they arrived at Camden Hall, which his servants had thoughtfully strewn with Christmas greenery. As he and his bride sat facing one another across the dinner table, he was unable to remove his gaze from her. It seemed almost incomprehensible that this exquisite creature was his wife, that in a few hours he would completely possess her. He drank in the way the candlelight played on her delicate features as she sucked a spoonful of turtle soup into her mouth. Good Lord, it was hot in here!
Remembering the taste of her tongue mingling with his, he grew winded and began to tug on his cravat. Once more he began to get aroused. As he spread the butter on his roll he thought of slowly stroking every inch of her smooth flesh. His lids lifted and he hungrily watched her tongue nip at her lower lip. He was not at all sure he could make it through the dinner without leaping from his chair, hauling her into his arms, and carrying her upstairs to his bedchamber.
“Is your cravat too tight?” she asked. “I must say they look beastly uncomfortable.”
How could a cravat that had fit perfectly since ten o’clock this morning now be so wretchedly uncomfortable? “Indeed they are,” he said. For the first time he noticed the metallic glints in her blond hair. She really was exquisite. Warwick was an idiot. “You looked lovely today, my dear,” he said. “You still do.” She wore the same pink gown she had married in that morning. It displayed her creamy shoulders and swept low at the bodice to reveal her delectable decolletage.
When he had filled his hand with her breast, he had been pleasantly surprised that someone as slender as she possessed any breasts at all. Remembering the feel of her plump little breasts thinned his breath.
“Thank you, Nick,” she said, then she sipped her wine, her long lashes lowering seductively.
On her lips, his name became an endearment. Did she have any idea how acutely she aroused him? Could she possibly understand how tormented he was, how desperately he wished to peel off her clothing, spread her legs wide and embed himself within her?
Would this blasted meal ever come to an end?
“Did you find your chambers satisfactory?” he asked.
“Yes, they’re very nice. It was as if they were just awaiting your wife.”
“Thanks to the previous occupant, Lady Hartley,” he said. “Of course, you’re welcome to change anything you like.”
“Will we be spending much time here?”
“Not really.”
“I didn’t think so,” she said. “I know The Fox does not like to be away from his den.”
The nickname he’d been proud of now took on almost sinister overtones. “I beg that you and I not discuss my business. We’ll get on better that way.”
Her blue eyes regarded him with puzzlement. “I want to make you a good wife, Nick. If you don’t wish to discuss business, I promise to never bring it up again.” She nibbled at that lush lower lip of hers. “I shouldn’t like it if we didn’t get on well.”
“Nor would I,” he said solemnly.
It was too soon to tell how they would get along with one another, but he was convinced that on the physical level they would be highly compatible. He had been stunned over the depths of her passion, and he had not yet penetrated her simmering veneer!
As much as he would like to bury himself within her, he cautioned himself to be mindful that she was a virgin, to hold back from devouring her.
Perhaps if she imbibed great quantities of wine, the losing of her maidenhead would be less painful, more pleasurable. He lifted the decanter and refilled her glass. “Drink up, my dear. It will make our . . . consummation easier on you.”
His throbbing intensified as he watched a rosy hue climb into her cheeks. Though she was obviously embarrassed over his reference to their lovemaking, she lifted her solemn gaze to his, then sipped the wine.
The candles weren’t the only thing in the room giving off heat. Never breaking eye contact with her, he loosened the cravat even more. He had the damnedest feeling he and Fiona were surrounded by flames.
Still watching him, she took another sip.
He refilled his own glass and drank.
“I feel guilty for robbing you of the bachelorhood you so СКАЧАТЬ