Afraid.
He wanted to shrug off the word in a show of manly bluster. But he couldn’t—not convincingly. His breath was shaky, and his hand trembled as he drew a caress down her thigh. Unlike Charlotte, he couldn’t blame it on the chill.
He needed to get her out of that shift. The linen was thin enough that it had already begun to dry—but he wanted her bare. He slipped a hand beneath the hem and drew the shift upward, peeling the milky gauze from her body and revealing everything she was beneath.
She didn’t hide herself from his gaze. He drank it in—the sight of her body bathed in sunshine. So beautiful, it rendered him speechless. Judging by the shy smile gracing her lips, she intuited his admiration well enough, even without words.
Her fingernails teased the hair on his chest and raked over his flat nipples. He slid a palm over the smooth, silky planes of her back and nuzzled the softness of her breasts.
Nestled in the tickling grass, breathing the green and burnt-orange scents of autumn . . . They might have been the first man and woman in Creation, discovering one another in the Garden of Eden. Exploring all the parts that made them different. Sharing all the desires that made them the same.
He kissed his way down her body, worshipping every inch of her. She bucked and gasped as he nudged her thighs apart and ran his tongue along her crease.
“Let me do this for you,” he murmured, in between light passes of his tongue. “I’ll make it better. I’ll make it so good.”
He framed her waist in his hands and reached toward her center with his thumbs, spreading her wide. After exploring every pink, secret petal of her sex, he centered his efforts on the swollen bud at the crest.
Her hand tangled in his hair, and all he heard was the shallow rasp of her breath. She began to writhe beneath him, twisting her hips to seek more contact, more pleasure.
He held her in place, never ceasing the gentle flicks of his tongue. Once she’d resigned herself to the pleasure, he moved a hand between her thighs and pushed two fingers inside her, thrusting them in and out as he kept up his kisses and tender suckling.
“Piers,” she gasped.
He didn’t pause for even a moment to reply, only settled in to his task with renewed dedication.
He felt the quiver of her thigh against his cheek, and it encouraged him to work his fingers deeper, faster. Her body tensed.
Yes. That’s it. Surrender to it. Let it happen.
He would have licked and kissed her all day if she’d needed him to do so, but she broke apart beneath him in stunning fashion, gasping and arching off the ground.
He pulled her down to the earth with gentle nuzzling and caresses until her breathing slowed.
He kissed his way back up her belly, crawling on hands and knees as he moved atop her. He guarded her body between his arms, offering himself as a shelter. But what she gave him in return was so much more. Comfort. Succor. A soft place to lay his heavy heart.
Her thighs parted, making a cradle for his legs. The hard, eager curve of his cock wedged tight between their bellies, straining toward her navel.
He raised himself up on straightened arms. Then he rocked his hips, so that the head of his cock parted her and fitted just where it wanted to be.
She looked up at him with clear eyes and absolutely no misgivings. She was so damn trusting it made his chest ache. He fought the impulse to claim her fast and hard. Make her his own before she could change her mind.
“If we do this,” he said, “you must marry me. You do understand that?”
She nodded, but it wasn’t enough. He needed words.
“Once we’re joined, you’ll be bound to me. Irrevocably. Always. Tell me you understand that. Tell me you want it. I need to hear it from your lips, Charlotte. Say you . . .” The breath rushed out of him. “Say you’ll be my wife.”
Charlotte gazed up at him, her heart wrenching with emotion. It seemed she had finally heard a true proposal. Or as close to it as she was likely to get.
“Yes, Piers. I’ll marry you.”
I will marry you, and I will love you. And somehow, some way I will make you love me back.
She was resolved on one thing. She was not going to be one of those virgins who whimpered and cried upon her deflowering. She could take a bit of pain. Anyway, his fingers had already been inside her. How much bigger could this part of him be?
Much bigger, she discovered, as the tip of him nudged at her entrance. Bigger, thicker, harder, hotter.
Just . . . more. In every way.
Nevertheless, she thought she was dealing with it all rather admirably.
And then he pushed inside.
Oh Lord oh Lord oh Lord.
She couldn’t help it. All her resolutions were abandoned. She cried out and tensed, digging her fingernails into his shoulders like claws.
He cursed. “Sorry.”
It’s all right, she wanted to tell him. It’s fine, truly. Plow on ahead. No need to worry about me.
But it wasn’t all right, and she wasn’t fine, and if he plowed on ahead just now, she would likely serve him an involuntary punch in the eye.
“I’ll go as slow as you need me to. I won’t move again until you tell me you’re ready. I swear it.”
Charlotte nodded. She breathed in and out, willing her body to relax.
When the pain finally began to ebb, she released her tight grip on his shoulders. He slid in a bit farther, and a bit farther still, and—miracle of miracles—it didn’t make her want to scream.
“Better now?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He cared about her comfort. He was working so hard to make this not only bearable, but wonderful. And that made everything better.
His every careful, inching thrust went easier than the last. Her body stretched and ached, but in a tolerable way. Perhaps even a pleasant way.
When he was finally fully seated inside her, he gave a low moan. The last bit of tension in her arms and neck melted.
And then she did the most ridiculous thing:
She lay back and thought of England.
It came to her all at once: house parties and foxhunts, partridge shooting and prizefighting. Lovers meeting in libraries and carriages and autumn dales.
All those strange, silly, so very English quirks of manners and mystery that had formed their characters and forced them together.
He noticed her smile. “What’s so amusing?”
“Only everything.”
He bent to kiss her. “I rather adore that about you.”