“Where are you taking me?” she murmured. “There’s a perfectly good bed over there.”
“There’s a better one in the place where I first met you. At the place where it all began.”
“You’re taking me to the tower?”
“Yes.”
She grabbed the matching silk wrapper lying on the foot of the bed and held it close as Kit carried her out of her bedchamber, down the stairs, and through the front doors where he set her on her feet.
Mariah slipped her silk robe on over her nightgown as Kit reached for her hand.
“Aren’t you going to carry me the entire way?” she teased.
Kit shook his head. “I value my neck and yours,” he told her with a grin. “And I’ll not be negotiating that path in the dark with you in my arms. Besides, I would rather save my strength for something much more important …”
Mariah gasped when she saw the interior of the tower room illuminated by the light of the single brass lantern and the light from the stars.
Kit had transformed the tower into a bridal bower with a magnificent view of the stars. And as he placed his bride on the velvet-covered mattress, he promised to take her there.
“Did you bring the book?” she asked.
“Are we going to need it?”
“Unless you have it memorized we are,” she teased. “For I want to try everything.”
“Then why don’t we start with Coaxing the Nectar?”
“Why don’t we?” She reached up, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him.
She deserved gentleness, Kit reminded himself in an effort to go slow. She deserved tenderness. And he devoted himself to giving Mariah everything she deserved. He nibbled at her lips, then traced the texture of them with a light brush of his own. Kit touched the seam between her lips with the tip of his tongue, showering Mariah with pleasure as he tasted the softness of her lips and absorbed the feel of her mouth; poring over every detail, every nuance of her lips and mouth and teeth and tongue, with a single-minded determination to give and receive pleasure.
He leaned into her, pressing the lower part of his body against the cradle of hers, and Mariah opened her mouth and parted her legs to grant him access. Acknowledging her generous offering, Kit reached up, tangled one hand in her hair, and sent her hairpins scattering in all directions as he pulled her closer to deepen his kiss and his tongue delved deep into the lush sweetness of her mouth. Her tongue mated with his, mirrored his as he plundered the depths, then retreated into politeness, before plundering again.
Mariah sank against him, shivering in delicious response as Kit left her lips and kissed a path over her eyelids, her cheeks, her nose; brushing his lips lightly over hers once again before he continued on his path to the pulse that beat at the base of her throat. Mariah had always prided herself on her independent spirit and her education, but she found she was sadly, shamelessly, lacking in both those attributes and she lay in Kit’s arms.
He had much to teach and she had a lot to learn. And she was a little surprised to discover she was more than willing to relinquish her independence and become a willing slave to her desires.
Kit rubbed his nose into the hollow below her ear, inhaling the scent of her. She smelled of baking bread and cake frosting, and Kit laved the spot where her pulse throbbed with his tongue. He nibbled and teased and coaxed his way from her mouth to her throat, to the dainty pink shell of her ear and back again with a finesse he hadn’t known he possessed.
A fierce longing flowed through him, making him shudder with the need to touch all of her, to taste all of her. He remembered the way her breasts had looked reflected in the mirror through the transparent fabric of the dressmaker’s chemise, the way their pink tips puckered like ripe lips awaiting a lover’s kiss. His kiss. And, ever the gentleman, Kit vowed not to disappoint them.
She melted back on the blankets and cushions of the bed he had made and gazed up at the twinkling stars through the hole in the roof as Kit cupped her breast with his hand, pushing it up and out of the confines of her nightgown and robe so that nothing separated her breasts from him. Mariah started as he rubbed the pad of his thumb over the tip of her breast until it hardened and then kissed his way down the front of her robe, stopping only long enough to untie the sash at her waist and lay the garment open before he pressed his lips around the hard little nub.
Fire, like the fire of a glass of brandy on an empty stomach, shot through her, only this fire was a thousand times better than anything alcohol induced. Mariah gasped as the warmth of his breath against her breast made her nipple swell and harden even more until she ached in the dark secret recesses of her body—all the places proper ladies didn’t admit to having. Mariah arched her back, filling the night air with little incoherent sounds she made in her throat. She wiggled in his arms, moving steadily closer until she finally reached up, clamped her fingers into his thick dark hair, and held him pressed against her. She whimpered hoarsely as Kit gently tucked her bare breasts back inside the bodice of her nightgown, then dampened the thin silk with his tongue and forced his warm breath through the fabric, igniting spontaneous little shooting stars of desire that flared throughout her body.
Kit chuckled deep in his throat, thrilled with Mariah’s impatience and heady with the powerful sensations swirling around them and with the incredible realization that she enjoyed his touch as much as he enjoyed touching her.
He turned his head so that he might breathe once again, then slowly worked his way over the silk fabric, and past the little silk roses embroidered on the bodice to her other breast. He wanted to bite off the roses and tear the silk with his teeth, but he fought to control that urge, until, unable to prolong the teasing, he freed her breasts from her bodice once more by cupping his hand beneath them and pushing them up and over the top of the nightdress. Once his mission was accomplished, Kit lavished her nipple with a rush of hot, moist air. God, but he wanted to touch her, all of her. He wanted to suckle at her breast and taste the sweet hot essence of her. He wanted to bury his length inside her warmth and to feel the heat of her surrounding him as he throbbed and pulsed within, and he wanted to capture her lips and swallow her cries as they careened toward the heavens on an intimate journey where two became one, where desire and passion were forged like iron and carbon melded into steel, to form an exquisite blend of love and faith and trust.
Kit worked his way from her breasts back to her lips. His warm rough tongue plundered her mouth. Kit slipped his hand beneath her nightdress and traced a path up her thigh and down into the valley between her legs. He gently eased his fingers into the nest of silken curls and the damp swollen flesh hidden beneath them.
“Kit, please,” Mariah moaned his name and begged prettily as she thrust her hips against his incredibly talented fingers while Kit traced the contours of her flesh and teased the tight little bud hidden within the folds. There were no words to describe the myriad delicious and forbidden sensations she felt as Kit slid his skilled fingers into her petal-soft folds.
She felt the impact of those sensations deep inside her womb as longings she had felt only once before on the swing shot to the surface and raged in an unladylike dance of passion. Mariah knew she should be scandalized by Kit’s familiarity with all the secret places on her body; knew she should be alarmed at the way he played her like a violin, coaxing sweet music from an instrument that had once been invaded and abused. But Kit stroked and probed with such infinite tenderness and such agonizing care that she couldn’t be outraged. How could she be shocked and angry when all he gave was bliss? Incredible bliss?
“Please,” she murmured in such a heartfelt tone of voice that Kit couldn’t tell if she was inviting him to continue or begging him to stop. He deepened his caress and wiggled his fingers. Mariah immediately pressed her legs together in reaction, before opening them again to give him access. And Kit had his answer.
Mariah squirmed as pleasure—hot and thick and dangerous—surged through her body filling her with u
rgent longings she couldn’t name and a starburst of vibrant emotions—all of them emanating from the place Kit graced with his magnificent attention. She thrust her hips upward as she moaned her pleasure and gasped out his name in short frantic little breaths.
Kit continued to kiss her, gently at first, and then harder, consciously matching the action of his fingers to that of his tongue as he feverishly worked his magic on her. He knew she was desperately close to finding wondrous satisfaction, even if she still didn’t quite know what to expect or what was happening to her. His body chafed beneath his self-imposed restraint. He ached to join her in blissful release, but Kit had to take his time. He pressed his thumb against her soothing her aching core with the sweet honey she lavished on his fingers.
Mariah sighed against his lips, and then shuddered deeply as her fragile control shattered, and she came apart in his arms. She opened her eyes and looked up at him with such an expression of sheer wonderment and joy that Kit’s breath caught in his throat. He was humbled by the look in her eyes and rewarded tenfold for his remarkable restraint.
Mariah blushed. “I did it again,” she whispered in an awe-filled tone of voice.
“Yes, you did,” he told her. “Quite beautifully. And now our little exploration has yielded the discovery that you can do it on a bed under the stars and well as on a swing in a secret garden under the noonday sun.”
“What do you call it?” she asked.
“I call it Reaching the Stars. I hope you succeeded,” Kit said tenderly.
“I not only reached them”—she smiled at him—“but I caught hold of Draco’s tail and held on for the ride.” Her eyes shimmered with emotion as she reached up and placed her palms on both sides of his face.
“Thank you,” she said simply, pulling his face down to meet her lips.
“It was an honor,” he whispered seconds before he captured her mouth with his own.
Kit kissed her again—this time with all the pent-up passion and frustration and longing he’d been holding in check so long. He kissed her until her breasts heaved with exertion, until her bones seemed to turn to jelly, until all she could do was cling to him while she fervently returned his kisses measure for measure. Kit’s mind reeled from the flood of sensations she evoked as her tongue mated with his.
Shaking with need, Kit finally pulled his mouth away.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he answered.
“Then, why did you stop kissing me?”
“Because I want you.” Kit leaned his forehead against hers and drew a shaky breath. “All of you.”
“You have all of me,” she told him.
Kit shook his head. “I’m not entirely sure you understand what I mean, Mariah.”
The smile Mariah gave him was angelic. “Then, why don’t you show me?”
Kit’s leer was positively lustful as he placed a knee on the bed and leaned over her. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He lifted her limp and relaxed body and struggled to work her damp nightgown and robe over her head.
Mariah should have cringed at his vivid curse, but she giggled instead. Kit’s honest frustration with her feminine accoutrements was proving to be a powerful aphrodisiac.
He sighed with relief as he finally managed to pull her nightgown and robe up and over her head, leaving her gloriously naked.
Completely nude and suddenly shy, Mariah squeezed her eyes shut and tried to roll to the side of the makeshift bed to extinguish the lantern he’d left burning, but Kit wrapped his arm around her waist and stopped her. “Leave it,” he said. “I want to look at you.”
“Please,” she began, “I’m …”
“So lovely you take my breath away,” he whispered, genuinely awestruck.
Mariah opened her eyes to see if the expression on his face matched his tone of voice and was instantly gratified to see that it did. She blushed. “What comes next?”
Kit raised an eyebrow at her and grinned. “You do. Again. Lie there and enjoy while I see if you taste as good as you look. This, my lady, is called Sipping the Nectar.”
Mariah met his unerring gaze, trusting that Kit meant to continue his intimate exploration with his talented fingers. She was startled when he stretched out between her legs and, resting his head on her thigh, turned and pulled her toward him. The feel of his hot breath brushing her secret curls came as a complete surprise. Mariah clamped her legs together. Kit raised his head and looked at her. “Trust me, Mariah. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m only going to love you. If you’ll let me.”
When he looked at her like that, Mariah found she couldn’t deny him anything—didn’t want to deny him anything. He was the teacher and she, the student. He was the baker and she was the pastry dough. As long as he kept his promise to love her, her body was his to do with as he pleased. “Please do,” she begged politely.
“My pleasure.”
Mariah thought she’d reached the stars while his fingers caressed her, but when Kit stretched out between her thighs, pulled her to him, and began to taste the places his fingers had explored, she captured the stars and held them inside her.
He drove her to the brink of rapture and beyond. Kit moved up her body and cradled her beside him, capturing her cries with his mouth as she shuddered back to the earth in his arms. He brushed her damp hair off her flushed face, wiped the tears from her eyes, and murmured love words of praise and encouragement in her ear.
She opened her eyes to find Kit staring down at her.
“Hmm,” she murmured, snuggling beside him and stretching languidly, like a cat.
“How were the stars?” he asked kissing the tip of her nose.
Mariah gazed at him. “Beautiful,” she answered. “But I wanted you there beside me.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “I’m quite certain that exploring the stars is much nicer when you have a companion on the journey.”
“Just a companion?” He sounded disappointed.
“Well”—she wet her lips with the tip of her tongue as she pretended to ponder his question—“a husband would be better.”
Kit sucked in a breath as his body tightened and the bulge beneath his silk robe grew so insistent it began to tent the fabric, staining it with the pearls of moisture that appeared each time he looked at her. “Are you in the market for a husband, Miss Shaughnessy?”
“I’d like to think I just found one, Lord Kilgannon. And I’ll have you know I no longer answer to that name. It’s a spinster’s name,” she teased. “I’m Lady Kilgannon when we’re in Ireland and Lady Ramsey when we’re in England.”
“Who are you when we’re in bed?”
“Your wife and your lover.” She pulled his head down and kissed him. “Unless you’d like me to be someone else.”
“I’m not complaining,” Kit assured her.
“I am,” Mariah admitted. A wicked little smile played about the corners of her mouth and her eyes sparkled with merriment. She reached up and pulled him down to kiss her. “Because only one of us is naked.”
Kit kissed her quickly, then untied the sash of his robe.
“May I?” Mariah brushed his hands away.
“How can I refuse when you ask so nicely?” He held out his arms, giving himself up to the pleasure of her touch.
She slid his silk robe off his shoulders, down his arms, and over his hands, exposing the hard muscles of his chest and stomach. Mariah rubbed her hands over the mat of hair on his chest; then leaned over and indulged herself by allowing the tips of her breasts to rub against the soft hair.
Kit’s blood rushed downward. The hard male part of him throbbed with each beat of his heart. He ached to sheathe himself in Mariah’s warmth. He ached to end his exquisite torment. Wrapping his arms around her waist, Kit gently rolled her onto her back. Mariah followed the line of his spine, sliding her hands down his back and over his tight buttocks. Kit groaned aloud as she brushed her fingers against him and the hard jutting length of him spi
lled into her waiting hands.
She caressed him, marveling at the velvety soft feel. And she would have continued her exploration if Kit hadn’t gently lifted her hands from around him, then guided her legs up over his hips, and pressed himself against her; gently probing her entrance.
Lost in a frenzy of need, Mariah locked her legs around his waist and pulled him to her.
“Now we Share the Nectar.” Kit pushed inside her. He closed his eyes, threw back his head, and bit his bottom lip as he sheathed himself fully inside her warmth. His entire body shook with the effort as he fought to maintain his control.
Mariah tensed as he entered her, but did not cry out.
Kit waited as long as he could, allowing her body to mold itself to his length, but when she moved experimentally, Kit lost his battle to maintain control as she urged him deeper inside her. He began to move his hips in a rhythm as old as time.
Mariah followed, matching his movements thrust for thrust. She clung to him, reveling in the weight and feel of him as he filled her again and again, gifting her with himself in a way she’d never dreamed possible. She squeezed her eyes shut. Tears of joy trickled from the corners, ran down her cheeks, and disappeared into the silk of her hair. And as she felt the first tremors flow through her, Mariah surrendered to the emotions swirling inside her; gave voice to the passion with small incoherent cries that escaped her lips as Kit rocked her to him and exploded inside her.
He brushed his lips against her cheek as he buried his face in her hair. He tasted the saltiness of her tears, then lifted his head and looked down at her face. God, but she was beautiful. Kit shuddered as a rush of emotions raced through him. He should have spoken words of love instead of words of passion. He should have cherished her and treated her more tenderly instead of using her to slake his raging desire. She deserved a better wedding night. And he’d give her one. In a moment. When he recovered. He’d love her again and again until he proved that she was loved above all others. He kissed her forehead.