The Scandalous Lady Sandford (Lost Ladies of London 3)

“I’ll add more wood to the fire.” He moved to walk away.

“Wait. I want to tell you what happened.” She touched the locket at her throat. “I need to talk to someone. Whenever I broach the subject with Vane guilt eats away at him, and I cannot bear to see him in pain.”

“Then sit. I shall pour us a brandy while you warm yourself.”

“In a moment.” She bit down on her bottom lip, her gaze flitting back and forth, as erratic as her decisions. “There is another matter that requires our attention first.”

She shrugged out of his coat and it fell to the floor. In the muted light, he could see the voluptuous curve of her hips through the thin chemise. Pert nipples pressed against the fine material. She gathered her ebony hair and pulled it over one shoulder. A man would need to be blind not to recognise the signs.

“Are you suggesting we consummate our alliance?”

“It is our wedding night. I … I am not promising it will be a satisfying experience. Indeed, I’m certain you’re used to bedding women with far more skill.”

“Lilly.”

“What?”

“You think too much.” Hardly believing his luck, he dragged his shirt over his head and dropped the garment onto the floor. “But I suspect it’s because you’re afraid you might feel something.” He took her hand and placed it on his chest. “I am yours to command. Yours to own.”

“But I don’t know what to do.”

It crossed his mind to ask about her experiences with Lord Martin but thought it unwise to drag her out of this amorous mood. “There are no rules. Follow your heart.”

She pursed her lips.

“Whatever you do to me will be pleasurable,” he added.

“Am I allowed to explore?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but placed both palms on his chest and pushed up to feel the shape of his shoulders. Blood pooled in his cock. Her eyes sparkled with delight when her fingers grazed his nipples and the sensation made him suck in a breath.

“Just like you, certain parts of my body are sensitive to the touch.”

“Being in control is rather empowering.” Dainty hands settled on his hips before venturing to the waistband of his breeches.

“What now, Lilly?”

“I have no idea.”

Fabian smiled. “While I’m keen to see where your fingers might wander next, I’m afraid I must take off my boots.”

She glanced at his feet, her gaze lingering on the obvious evidence of his arousal. It seemed to give her confidence in her ability, as she said, “Then hurry.”

Why was it that a desperate man’s fingers failed to work? After three attempts, he yanked one boot free and then another. Fabian had never been shy of nakedness. That’s what came from living amongst fifty sailors for months on end. He unbuttoned his breeches but left them hanging on his hips. The last thing he wanted was to frighten his wife away.

Sensing her increasing nerves, he closed the gap between them. “May I have an opportunity to explore, too?”

With some hesitation, Lillian nodded.

Keeping his eyes locked on hers, Fabian bent his knees, found the hem of her chemise and ran his hands underneath. Lillian inhaled deeply as he skimmed her soft thighs.

“You can kiss me if the urge takes you,” he whispered as he cupped her buttocks.

Lillian’s breath came quickly as he caressed the flare of her hips and palmed her full breasts. He rejoiced in the glazed look of desire swimming in her eyes, in the little pants she couldn’t contain. While he lived and breathed, he’d make sure she had no reason to cry again.

Good God. Lust clawed away like a beast inside. His cock bulged against his breeches, and all he could think of was pushing into her sweet body.

How he had the strength to rein in his desire, he’d never know. But Lillian needed to surrender to him, to embrace her passionate nature, to learn how to feel something other than guilt and shame.

He pushed his breeches to the floor and stepped out of them. Giving her no time to think, he gathered her to his chest and plundered her mouth. One stroke of his tongue across the seam of her lips and she granted him entrance. Things progressed quickly. She clutched his arms, scratching his skin in her need to deepen the kiss.