The Heiress Bride - Catherine Coulter [44]
“Colin?”
“Is that little thin voice actually coming from the woman who wanted to rip my breeches off and have her way with me the instant we left London?”
“Yes, but I don’t like this. This is different. The motives are no longer there for getting it done. What’s more, you’re looking at me—”
“As I recall, you did the same to me, only the covers were down around my ankles. You looked your fill, did you not, and you were fully dressed?”
“Not at first. I was in my nightgown at first.”
“But you wouldn’t cover me until you’d looked your fill.”
“It wasn’t enough, Colin. I could have looked for a good deal many more hours.”
He had no smart reply to that. He leaned down, not touching her with his hands, and gently took her nipple in his mouth.
He thought she’d try to fling him off her, but she only quivered a bit, then became still as a stone.
“What are you doing, Colin? Surely that—”
He blew warm breath over her and she gasped.
“This is my prelude,” he said, and lowered his head again to his pleasant task. Her scent filled his nostrils and he strengthened his pressure on her soft flesh.
“Oh dear, Colin, that feels quite strange.”
“Yes, I trust it is also enjoyable.”
“I don’t know. Perhaps. No, not really . . . oh goodness.”
He very gently lifted her breast in the palm of his hand, pushing her firmly against his mouth. When he raised his head to look at her face, he also saw the darkness of his flesh against the white of hers. So different they were.
Perhaps having a wife wasn’t going to be such a disaster after all. He wanted to come inside her now, this instant, but he knew he would have to wait. He knew that women needed encouragement, particularly stroking between their thighs, and he knew also that he wanted to taste her, to learn the textures of her soft flesh against his mouth and his tongue.
Enough was enough. It was time to expand upon his prelude. He rose quickly to stand beside the bed. He was quiet a moment, just staring down at this new bride of his, the bride he hadn’t wanted, the bride who had saved him and his family for generations to come. He took off his clothes, calm and controlled, just smiling down at her, seeing the anticipation, the banked excitement in her incredible blue eyes—Sherbrooke blue eyes he’d heard them called in London. But he also saw the wariness there; her eyes were following his every move. He shrugged out of his shirt, then sat down to pull off his boots. He didn’t turn around when he stripped down his britches; indeed, he never looked away from her. He straightened when he was naked and smiled at her, his arms at his sides. “Look your fill, my dear.”
Sinjun looked and she kept looking. Then she shook her head as she said, clearly appalled, “This will never work, Colin. It can’t.”
“What can’t work?” He followed her eyes and looked down at himself. He was fully aroused, something of a surprise since he hadn’t really gotten things started yet; he was also a large man, and although in his experience women usually grew quite excited at the sight of him, he imagined that a virgin wouldn’t be quite so enthusiastic, at least not at first.
“That,” Sinjun said, pointing unnecessarily at him.
“It will be all right, you will see. Could you try to trust me?”
Her throat worked. She couldn’t seem to get the words out. She just kept staring at him. “All right,” she whispered, pulled the covers to her chin, and slid over to the far side of the bed. “But I don’t think trust has much to do with it.”
He waited a moment, then said, “Do you have any idea of how all this will work?”
“Oh yes, certainly. I’m not stupid or ignorant, but what I thought can’t be right. You’re too big and even though I trust you it can’t be the way I thought it would be. It’s utterly impossible.