“Easy, my sweet darling. Easy, now.” Theodore’s voice was a mix of tender amusement and arousal. Cupping her jaw in one large hand, he gently forced Lauren to meet his gaze, his eyes darkening to an indigo blue that enthralled her. She couldn’t look away. She didn’t wish to.
His fingers moved to her throat, stroking the slender column almost reverently, tracing the lines of it as she swallowed in reflex. “I’ve so much pleasure to give you. So much to show you,” he whispered, his mouth brushing her ear, tickling it with warmth. “But first, take a breath. That’s it. And another. Good girl. Can’t have you fainting before I even begin.”
Chapter 12
God help me, what manner of devilish torture is this? How am I to keep from ravishing her when she’s dressed like this?
Theodore stared down at her, grateful that her eyes were momentarily closed so he could drink his fill of the delectable sight she presented. The nightclothes, while not overtly sensuous, were crafted with an eye toward wicked purity. The soft, pale pink of innocence contrasted sharply with the nearly sheer muslin fabric. He never expected finding her dressed in such a manner, much less in a way giving him undeniable access to her slender body.
His blood pounded in his ears. Christ, he could see her nipples through the material. They were just a shade darker than the blush-hued muslin.
He knew what they tasted like, how they felt under his tongue. Sweeter than the first raindrops of spring. Softer than the innermost petals of his garden’s first rose.
“Lauren, why are you dressed so?”
Her eyes lifted slowly as if doing so was a struggle. “Your instructions were clear. To say I have retired for the evening.”
“Are all your nightclothes designed in such a manner?”
Her brows knitted together. Glancing down, she appeared befuddled by her attire. “How strange.”
Theodore lifted her chin with a forefinger, holding her gaze. “What is that, my love?”
Something sad flashed in the silvery depths of Lauren’s eyes. “This was part of my wedding trousseau. It must have been packed by mistake.”
Her wedding trousseau. Theodore felt his muscles tighten in response. Had their wedding gone as planned, he would have seen Lauren in gowns even more revealing since consulting with the seamstress himself. He would have demanded a private showing of every single article before stripping the last one from her body and tossing her onto their marital bed. They would have enjoyed the pleasures found there for the rest of their lives together. Night after night.
If he could convince her their engagement was still very much a reality, there was still hope for his fantasy to come true.
“It is very lovely, and you are a vision in it,” he said softly, hoping she would not become melancholy with the reminder of their botched nuptials. Especially when he was working so desperately at amending the situation.
Lauren met his gaze unflinchingly. “Thank you, Theo.” But when she resisted his increasingly tight embrace, he let her go. Her fingers twisted together, a nervous habit.
“Would you care for a brandy? I had some brought up.” Her nod toward a table by the fireplace drew Theodore’s attention to a tray with a decanter and one glass.
“Yes, but I will pour.” Theodore smiled. “One for you, then perhaps a bit more for me.”
Only when he pressed the glass into her hand did he realize her body was trembling. Indeed, nearly invisible tremors racked her. Was she frightened of him? Did she regret allowing him entrance to her room? Did she think he might pounce on her and take with no regard for her feelings on the matter?
Frowning, he waited patiently until she swallowed the liquor, choking on the fiery stuff. It trickled out of the corner of her mouth, and she wiped the droplets away with the back of her hand. Another dram was poured, and she drank that down without question, heedful of its burn the second time. The little shivers she exhibited gradually eased away as he so carefully watched her.
He then poured himself a glass, draining it before gathering her into his arms once more. Her body felt more relaxed against him, less tense, but her eyes were still clear as she gazed up at him. The last thing he wanted was an intoxicated fiancée, but clearly, his motivation in giving her the brandy was to help ease her apprehension. It seemed to have worked.
“What is the matter, love?” Theodore’s tone held a soothing quality.
“You would have seen me in this nightdress months ago had our marriage taken place as planned. We would be husband and wife right now.” Her voice was small and troubled.
“Yes,” he agreed. “That’s true. I regret not seeing you in it sooner. Do you think it is merely coincidence this garment was included in your belongings? Or that I am here at your cousin’s? We have been pushed together once more, darling. For the right reasons this time.”
Lauren’s brow knit together as she attempted to make sense of his words. “But we’re not married. This is wrong.”
His hands caressed her shoulders then moved so her jaw was cradled in his palms, his fingers meshing in the silky wealth of her hair. “Nothing about us is wrong, do you understand?” he declared fiercely. “I love you, Lauren, so don’t dare tell me this is wrong.”
The next instant, his mouth crashed down on hers. Not violently or even in punishment, but certainly with a bit of frustration. He wanted her. He wanted her badly. He wanted her to accept the fact their lives were meant to entwine.
The sweet essence of brandy lingered on Lauren’s lips. It paled in comparison to the flavor of her mouth when he delved deeper. She tasted of sugared peaches and reluctant desire. Theodore wanted to feast on her until any woman in his life before her was erased.
Without interrupting the kiss, he scooped her up into his arms, swallowing her tiny moan of surprise. The bed was only steps away, and he carefully placed her atop the coverlet, crawling up beside her, never breaking the fusion of their mouths.
Lauren’s robe fell open, further exposing her body. There was no hope of resisting the lure of such beauty. Theodore’s hand lifted, smoothing the filmy garment away until the sheer gown beneath the robe was revealed.
With a groan, Theodore tore away, breathing heavily. Fascinated, he watched his own hand mold her breast through the fabric, shaping it to fit the span of his palm. Lauren’s eyes latched on his while she shivered under the weight of his large body. They fluttered shut as he leaned back down, hovering above her like a beast with a fresh kill.
“Lauren, if I dangled mistletoe over you this very moment, what would you grant me? Another kiss? A truth? Or a favor?” Each choice was punctuated with a heated kiss along the column of her neck, his hand sliding to the hem of the nightgown. It had ridden high when he placed her upon the bed, exposing her long legs. During their kiss, it edged up even further until it lay atop her thighs.
Encountering the bare skin there, Theodore shuddered. Damn. She was smooth as silk, her flesh warm and soft. A whimper escaped her as his fingers skated along until he reached the gentle flare of her hip.
“An answer, darling,” he murmured. “Kiss. Truth. Or favor.”
“Truth.” The admission flew out in a hiss when Theodore nipped the slope of her shoulder. “I—I will give you a truth.”