Properly attired, indeed. She wore a nightgown the ladies had insisted she must have for her wedding night. For goodness sake, it was practically transparent. However, it came with a white silk dressing gown that covered her quite nicely.
* * *
She jerked when the door opened, and Dante entered. He looked her up and down with such hunger, she almost fled the room. He shook his head slightly. “You look beautiful, Lydia.” He walked toward her slowly, and instead of feeling as though she wanted to back up, she moved toward him. Her insides had melted just having him in the room.
They reached each other and he unhurriedly raised his hand and moved aside a lock of hair that had fallen over her eye. “I’ve never seen you with your hair down.”
She had no idea what to say, so she licked her dry lips. His warm hand took her face and held it gently. “I’ve waited a long time for this.”
Attempting to make light of the growing serious situation, she grinned. “I doubt you went long without this.”
“Ah, not so, my love. I have not touched another woman since the moment I walked into Sir Phillip’s office all those weeks ago.”
She smirked.
“‘Tis true.” He traced her features with his finger. “No other woman has appealed to me since I met you.”
Why did she believe him? Perhaps it was the look in his eyes and the fact that she had learned so much about this man who stood before her. He was a rake, a rogue, and a libertine, but he was also an honest and honorable man. He was protective, caring. And her husband.
He swept her, weightless, into his arms and kissed her with all the longing she felt herself. Instead of taking her to the bed which she thought he would do, he walked to the fireplace and placed her on the settee in front of the low flame.
He straightened. “I see they brought the champagne I ordered.” Dante picked up the bottle, opened it and poured the sparkling liquid into two thin glasses. Walking to her, he handed her one. “I would prefer to get out of these clothes. Is that all right with you?”
She sipped the drink. “Yes.” She looked around frantically. “Where will you change?”
“Relax, my love. I will avail myself of the bathing room.” He bent over and gave her a quick, light kiss. “Don’t go anywhere.”
He grabbed his banyan and whistling a soft tune, left the room.
Lydia took a deep breath and placed the glass on the table. It was nice to feel relaxed, but she didn’t want to drink too much. As nervous as she was, it was important to be aware of what was going on.
Within a record amount of time, Dante returned from the bathing room, wearing a red and black striped dressing gown. Since his hair was damp, it appeared he took the quickest bath in history. As he walked toward her, she caught a glimpse of his bare leg and the muscles in her stomach twisted.
He sat alongside her, resting his arm along the back of the settee, playing with the ends of her hair. “I want you to know that as much as I look forward to this, I will be gentle. I will not hurt you or embarrass you. Ever.”
She nodded. “I know that. I trust you.”
As though that was a cue for them to begin, he downed the champagne from his glass, and shifted closer to her and took her in his arms. “That means more to me than anything you could have said.”
Putting a large hand to her waist, he drew her closer. His head bent, and oh so gently, pressed his lips to hers. He brushed them back and forth, then with a slight groan, crushed her to him.
His slow drugging kiss worked to relax her more than all the champagne in the world. He nudged her lips with his tongue, and she granted him entrance, shocked at her reaction to him as he swept into her mouth, tasting, touching, sucking.
She fought him, tongue for tongue. He pulled back and leaned his forehead against hers. “I suggest we move this activity to the bed.” They were both panting, and Lydia felt the need to remove her dressing gown, even if the nightgown underneath was invisible.
“Yes. I think you are right.”
Once again he scooped her into his arms, kissing her all the way to the bed where he gently laid her down. “Remove your dressing gown,” he whispered.
She looked him in the eyes and realized she wanted to do that. Very much. Slowly, she pulled the garment off and tossed it to the floor.
His eyes grew wide, and he looked her up and down. “Dear God, you’re exquisite.” He climbed in next to her. “And all mine.”
Another possessive, hungry kiss had her pushing the banyan off his shoulders, running her hands over his smooth muscles. Dante flicked his fingers and untied the garment. She pushed it all the way off and he gathered it up and tossed it on top of her dressing gown. Her nipples hardened at his stare. “I love this nightgown, and want you to wear it many times, but right now I want it off.”
He slid it over her shoulders, down her body to her feet where it also landed on the pile of discarded clothes. He urged her down so they were lying face-to-face.
She inhaled deeply as his hand wandered her body, studying her as if she were a precious possession, stopping to squeeze, caress, and fondle. His ardor was surprisingly, touchingly, restrained.