Page 41 of Lord of the Hollow Court
“Without a husband,” she began, twisting the silver ring on her finger, “I can’t. It would be a scandal. I don’t know what it would do to my family. Nothing good, I’d think.”
Braam hesitated again. Why did this feel so different? He’d had a first encounter with a woman several dozen times in his life—ah, but none of them were his bride. “It is a strange society,” he said quietly, “that would cast out a woman for the possibility of sex, but welcome her for it in other circumstances.”
She laced her fingers together. “It’s the way it’s always been.”
“Not here,” he said quickly. “Never here. You are free to do with your body as you wish. No one will judge you.”
Katty straightened. “And I am your wife.”
“That you are.”
“I suppose, then, that we ought to lie down together, if that is how we should begin?”
He nodded, swallowing down a lump in his throat. Had he been afraid she’d reject him? That she would not desire him, too?
“Shall I help you out of your dress?”
“Please do,” she replied, face flushing. She turned once again, showing her back to her lord.
“Are you certain?” he asked as he reached for the clasp at the top, his breath upon her neck. He swore she shivered—just a touch.
“Yes.” The quickness of her answer surprised him. “If this is what husbands and wives do, then I wish to do it, too. I want to be a real wife to you.”
“But do you know what it entails?” He drew his fingertips up the length of her neck, looping his index finger through a curl at the base of her neck. “That it means I will touch you—that our bare bodies will be together?”
Her shoulders did not stiffen; her body did not tense. “I will follow your guidance on this matter,” she said primly. “Please unfasten my dress.”
He obeyed.
Something about a woman’s back had always beguiled Braam. The sculptural shapes of her shoulder blades, the fragile notches of her spine that suggested vulnerability—the long stretch of skin that curved down into the dimples above her buttocks. Braam found himself fumbling to unbutton Katty’s dress faster, the silken underthings peeking out, urging him on.
The dress fell to the loam gracefully, pooling around her pretty ankles. Katty half turned. “What next?”
“The rest,” Braam said in an exhale.
Slowly, a touch shyly, Katty slid her petticoat from her shoulder, stepping out of the silken sheath. Braam sucked in a hard breath, faltering as he unbuttoned his own shirt.
“Do you touch me now?” she asked, her pupils dilating as his shirt opened.
I would. I would indeed. But I must proceed slowly.Maybe their marriage wouldn’t be all obligation. He could live with this—with her.
“Would you like me to?” he asked, exposing more of his chest. “Or shall I undress first?”
“Perhaps you should undress.” Katty folded her arms, covering her breasts. “It is only fair that I see you fully, too.”
Attraction.Braam could have laughed for the relief he felt.This is genuine, mutual attraction.He had not known he worried about this until he saw her there, naked and bashful, yet also defiant in her vulnerability. Determined to complete the ceremony, so much so that there were lines upon her brow now—or perhaps that was only her fox-like curiosity he saw. Braam struggled out of his own shirt, then reached for his trousers.
He knew it now, the answer to another unspoken question that had plagued him: A human woman could be just as beguiling as a fae. And the way her eyes widened as she took in the silver-tinged hair of his chest, the line of hair that ran from his navel and back up to the protrusions of his chest and shoulders’ well-earned musculature, this told him she thought something nearly the same. And he believed, in this moment—despite everything, despite the unfortunate circumstances that brought them together—that if nothing else, at least they would have this.
“I don’t know what to do,” she said, cheeks darkening as she glanced at him—at all of him. She said this even as she leaned closer, body tilting slightly so that he took in an unobstructed view of her breasts. They were different from a fae’s, larger. Suppler. He made a point of keeping his hands at his sides, ignoring the roaring desire to trace his finger down the lines still left from a human corset she’d worn earlier in the day, to cup her breast and buttocks as his mouth met hers, then trailed down her neck. He did not wish to frighten her with his ardor.
“What do you wish to do?” he asked her in reply.
Thought hesitant, her desire brought her a step closer until her hands rested upon his chest, her fingers brushing through the hair upon it. A smile touched the corner of her lips. She was not a fawn but the cunning fox her surname suggested, skittish and beautiful. Cleverness lit her eyes, hands expressing a curiosity for his body he could not long resist.
On impulse, his lips jutted forward, giving her the proper kiss he abstained from on the dais, fearful of embarrassing her before his people. Her mouth responded with gentle eagerness, an eyebrow arching as though this was all a fascinating new experience. As their kiss deepened, her fingers moved up his collarbone, reaching for the back of his neck with only her cold fingertips.
Katty pulled back suddenly, blushing. “I still don’t know what to do.”
