A Proper Lord's Wife (Properly Spanked Legacy 2)

“Not surprising, for a library.”

“No.” Her blushing smile almost undid him. Was she the world’s slowest unbuttoner, or was she dawdling on purpose?

“I suppose you chose books about animals?”

“And gardening, and a few on human anatomy. Goodness, there is so much to know.”

Her gaze dropped from his chest to the front of his trousers for a moment. She was taking so long to undress him, it was becoming unbearably titillating foreplay. His erection strained to be free of his clothes. She finished with his buttons and he shrugged off the shirt, then tried to be matter of fact in removing his trousers.

At last he stood before her, casually naked. He let her look at him with her shy, darting glances a moment or two before he moved toward her and bore her back on the bed.

“Oh goodness,” she whispered as he took her in his arms. “Are we beginning?”

“More or less.”

“All right.”

She squirmed from beneath him and turned herself onto her hands and knees. Once arranged, she peered back at him. He stared at the marvel of his bride on all fours, her pert bottom barely obscured by her diaphanous nightgown.

“I’m not sure what to do now,” she said, when he made no movement. “Do I need to be naked as well?”

“My dear Jane.”

“Am I in the proper position?” She shifted her hips in a manner both tentative and seductive. “If you’ll tell me what to do…”

Goodness, what to say to her? “Jane, this is not how things customarily begin.”

“Isn’t it?” She turned onto her side and regarded him as if he might be lying to her. “That is how animals do it. Horses and dogs and—”

“Even so, people do it differently from animals.” He pulled her into his arms again. “Married people, anyway,” he added beneath his breath.

She gazed up at him, frowning. “I’ve already mucked things up, haven’t I?”

“Nonsense. Everything will be fine. Why don’t we begin with a kiss?”

Before she could answer yes or no, he lowered his lips to hers and played gently over her mouth. He’d never bedded a virgin before. She was not an experienced kisser, but she learned quickly beneath his measured tutoring. A nibble there, a brush of tongue over teeth, and she was opening to him with a small sigh. One of her hands trailed up his arm, coming to rest upon his shoulder. He suspected the other was still twisted in the sheets.

“How was that?” he asked, touching his forehead to hers. “A good enough kiss to begin things?”

“Yes.” The word was mere breath. “That felt very different from anything I’ve experienced before.” He drew back and her gaze moved over his chest and shoulders. “My lord…Edward…” she began.

“Yes?”

“So far, everything feels very nice. Very nice.”

She looked on him with admiration, and it warmed his lusts further that his trembling virgin felt at least a little earthly desire.

He drew a finger along her jaw’s delicate contour. “I think you should know, sweet Jane, that marital lovemaking has nothing in common with what you see in the stable yards. It’s much more refined, more measured and slow.”

“Ah.” She studied his lips. “Will there be more kissing?”

“Yes, and other pleasant things too. Lots of touching and exploring one another’s bodies.”

As he said this, he left off caressing her jaw and slid a hand beneath her now-rumpled nightgown. Not to grope her. No, he traced a line up her outer thigh instead, soft enough to relax her, but meandering enough to tease. He initiated another kiss, tasting her sweet, generous mouth. Yes, a quick learner indeed. She warmed to his advances, gasping against his mouth now and again as if he were working some sort of magic. There was no magic in it, just long, dissolute experience with women of the night.

And fantasies of Ophelia… Of wedding her, worshipping her, bedding her…

It was not fair to Jane to invite Ophelia into their wedding bed, but he’d pictured this wedding night with her, pictured taking her virginity with consummate skill, which was why he felt entirely prepared to bed Jane, even though she was the wrong woman.

No, he mustn’t think so. Enough.

He caressed higher beneath her gown, whispering fingers over her hips and waist, and just beneath her breasts. He could feel her breathing quickly, like a frightened animal. No, an inquisitive animal. She shifted her legs beneath him, like a fawn—or a gnu—taking her first steps. He tugged up one of her knees so she was open beneath him, still clothed, but open to his hard shaft. With the women at Pearl’s, he would have surged inside them now, to their coos of simpering delight.

Here, with Jane, he was careful and slow, allowing her to first feel his length along her thigh.

And she felt it… Her eyes met his in wary recognition. His naturalist had, after all, seen horses and dogs mate, and God knew what other kind of animals in her zoo-faring crusades.