Page 81 of Taming Ivy
A lamp burned on a table in the alcove next to his bed, the low light casting dark shadows. Sitting on the blue tufted bench, he tugged off his boots, tossing them to the side. He gave William leave of his duties for the next few days, so he managed his own disrobing.
It was bizarre, he thought, sliding between the sheets. Ivy's distinctive perfume lingered within the bedchamber. With tired bemusement, he wondered how he would keep from dreaming of her when her scent surrounded him. Especially tonight, their wedding night, for God’s sake. It seemed unfair to spend it alone.
Settling against the pillows, Sebastian threw an arm over his eyes. A sigh of pure exhaustion escaped him. He stretched, yawning, and as the softness of the bed enveloped him, the awareness he was not alone seeped into his consciousness. A sleek figure, with skin scented of oranges and lilies and smooth as silk, wiggled close.
Ivy was in his bed, a tousled, sleeping ball of warmth. Like a kitten seeking a cozy spot, she instinctively rolled from the far side of the mattress, curling next to him, her hand resting on his chest. She wore a cloud of a nightgown, the muslin fabric sliding against his bare skin as she burrowed close to his heat. Pulled into a fat braid, her hair lay across her shoulder, and if he wished, he could grab that silken rope; use it to tug her to him, to hold her still while he devoured her.
Remaining on his back, Sebastian shifted his arm to wrap it about her. Her sleepy sigh of contentment melted him, a sense of fulfillment and peace seeping into his bones. It had nothing to do with desire or lust. He treasured holding her. Drifting off, he realized he’d never fallen asleep with a woman in his bed without first making love to her.
What a novel experience.
CHAPTER 27
Sebastian faced her, stretched on his side. One arm lay tucked beneath both his head and the pillow, the other rested possessively in the curve of her waist. The weight of that arm held her prisoner, but Ivy did not mind. It was a perfect opportunity to examine him. An unforeseen gift, she mused, her gaze drifting over his features. Her husband’s face was softened in slumber, his eyes hidden behind lush, black eyelashes thick enough to make any woman jealous. The sensual fullness of his lips and the high curve of his cheekbones were complimented by eyebrows dark and full like a raven's wings. She almost reached up to trace one before reminding herself to remain still, altering her breathing to light, shallow breaths so he would not realize she was awake.
His chin bore a dark shading of stubble. He would need a shave soon. Would he ask her to help with that, or would his valet always take care of such things? Did wives typically assist with such things? Ivy’s eyes dropped to his chest. It was bare, a rippling expanse of hard, bronzed vastness much wider than she remembered. It beckoned exploration, calling her to outline the rigid, dark points of his flat nipples so different from her own, the skin stretching in gleaming sheets over bundles of sinew and flesh.
A vee of rough black hair commenced below his navel before trailing off to destinations better left uncharted beneath the edge of the coverlet. The fabric lay pinned to his waist by the position of their bodies, and for the briefest of moments, Ivy considered tugging it free. Lean muscles lined the slabs of his abdomen along with a long, thin scar, pale cream in color. It snaked across the lower part of his rib cage. Barely noticeable in the dimness of the room, it was damage a rapier or a knife blade might leave. Duels were practically a gentleman’s hobby in France and England. Ivy wanted to trace the length of that scar, to gently press it with her fingertips, as if she could heal any residual pain with a simple touch.
The faint laceration was a sobering reminder of the confrontation Sebastian wished to undertake against the Viscount Basford. Ivy shifted slightly in renewed distress with the thought. Her movement dislodging his arm a fraction of an inch from the curve of her waist and she realized he was awake.
He watched her, the strangest expression stamped across his features. Ivy considered flinging herself from the bed before forcing herself to relax. She had placed herself there of her own accord; she would not flee. As sleep dissipated and desire sparked in Sebastian’s gaze, her chin tilted.
"I'm curious how we came to be in this particular situation. Especially when I recall your strong feelings on this subject yesterday afternoon.” Propping himself up, Sebastian rested his head in the palm of one hand, the other still locked around Ivy's waist. His grip tightened, drawing her closer until mere inches separated them. "Well?" His voice was rough with restraint. "I eagerly await your explanation.”
Jumbled thoughts overwhelmed Ivy. Did Sebastian wear anything beneath the edge of the coverlet? His chest was naked. Was the rest of him? What the devil did men wear to bed? Anything? Nothing? Waves of heat emanated from him. The same heat she gravitated to in the middle of the night. Never was she so warm, so content, as the first night of sleeping with her husband.
His leg brushed against hers.Oh God. It was bare. Or did her imagination run rampant with panic? Her mind could not properly function, not when feverishly contemplating the state of his clothing. Or, lack of.
"Your silence leads me to believe you would prefer I take matters into my own hands.” Sebastian's lips lifted with the beginnings of a grin as Ivy swallowed and finally found her voice.
"It did not seem right we should spend our wedding night in separate beds.” Ivy cleared her throat, her heart beating so rapidly she thought it might thump out of her chest. "Regardless of everything, I did not wish that we spend it apart. I…I know it was not as you wanted it to be. Since we did not... that is to say, you did not...”
Her words trailed off into silence. Foolish, embarrassed tears swelled and she furiously blinked them back. Since meeting this man, the disturbing tendency to cry raised its head at the most inopportune times, and she hated the peculiar weakness.
Sebastian’s features softened at her dismay. "I will remember our wedding night forever. Because it wasnotas I expected. You would know I’m a liar if I said I do not want to make love to you, but right now, you trust me to hold you.” He brushed a wayward curl from her forehead. "Will you let me kiss you, my anxious little wife? I’m not sure I trust myself to go no further, but what matters most to me, is will you trust me?"
Hypnotized by the silky roughness of Sebastian’s voice as he moved closer, Ivy waited in wary curiosity. When his hand glided to cup her jaw, fingers sliding into the tendrils of hair springing free from the braids, she voiced no objection nor did she move away.
Moving so that he loomed over her, Sebastian pinned Ivy flat to the mattress. His large hands buried themselves into the pillows on either side of her head, his lips closing the distance separating them. He kissed her deeply, slowly, leisurely dipping his tongue into her mouth until she was breathless. Desperately grasping handfuls of her own nightgown was the only way she kept her fingers from sliding into the thickness of his hair. A fire ignited within her belly, spreading flames of insidious delight. She imagined his hands touching her everywhere.
Then Sebastian stopped.
"That's probably enough for now, don't you think?"
Rolling away from the bed in one smooth motion, he reached for a dark grey robe lying on a nearby chair and Ivy had a quick glance of muscled, impossibly golden-brown buttocks before the fabric concealed his nudity. Tying garment’s silk sash, he grinned at her over his shoulder.
Why,whywas he touched by the sunthere?Where breeches should have covered him? A thousand questions whirled in her brain, each more confusing than the last.
"Forgive me, sweetheart. It’s my habit to sleep as Nature intended, so I suggest you accustom yourself to it. Eventually, you will come to know my body as well as your own.”
"I don't understand,” Ivy stammered. "I thought you wanted to...”
“Make love to you?” Sebastian laughed softly at her confusion. "Oh, I do. Believe me, I do. Only this is hardly a good time. Gabriel is incredibly dedicated to being my man of affairs. It is habit to pop in quite early. He may already know you decided to take up residence in my chambers, he usually knows everything. But, then again, he might not expect you here when he comes barreling through the door. You left matters up in the air yesterday afternoon.”
"Does this occur every day?" Ivy’s voice was tight with mortification. Her own words made it seem as though she wanted far more than kissing. Her cheeks burned, thinking what might have followed those kisses.
"It doesn't have to be.” The look he gave her was inscrutable. "If you've other ideas, I’ll instruct Gabriel to come only when summoned. It would be quite awkward to be discovered in the midst of something...ah, intimate.”
