Page 52 of The Virgin in the Rake's Bed
“And how might we do that?” she asked, smiling at him in the fading light of the setting sun.
“With what we each have to give,” he replied, taking her by the hand and leading her inside.
The bedroom was warm and inviting, the sheets on the bed turned down and the thick curtains drawn across the window. The fire in the hearth had been stoked up, and the landlord had left a simple supper of bread, meat, and cheese on the table, along with a bottle of claret and two glasses. Catherine and Ian shared a toast, sitting back together on the bed, glasses in hand.
“I never imagined this day would come. I was so close to it before, and then it was snatched away,” Ian said, taking a sip from his glass.
“But today, you have grasped it with both hands,” she replied, setting aside her glass, and resting her head on his chest.
“It felt exciting, did it not? To elope,” he said, and she nodded.
“And to get away with it,” she replied.
Until the very moment of her vows, Catherine had been anxious. She had imagined Rickard bursting in on them, somehow preventing their marriage and forcing her to return to London. But now the deed was done, and no man could tear apart what had been put asunder.
“And we shall return to London as man and wife, a fact with which your father, your brother, and the Earl of Westwood can never dispute,” he said, taking another sip of wine before laying aside his glass, too.
He smiled at her, his face bathed in the soft light of the flickering candles around the room. His hand traced a trail along her hairline, and he ran his finger gently over her arm.
“I never want to be apart from you,” she whispered, and he smiled.
“You will grow tired of me at some point,” he replied, but she shook her head.
“How could I grow tired of a man who has done so much to help me?” she replied, drawing closer to him, their lips meeting in a kiss.
“But you have helped me, also, for you have shown me that not every woman is as I had thought her to be,” he replied.
“Just as every man is not as I have thought him, either. Those men at Samantha’s ball. They possessed nothing of you, each of them lacked something, but you lack nothing,” she said, his arms now slid around her, their bodies entwined.
“You are truly the most perfect of women,” he whispered, his lips going to her neck, kissing her, his hands moving down her dress.
She slipped the shoulders down, exposing her breasts, tugging at the buttons of his shirt. Their passions were now aroused, and though unspoken, Catherine knew what was surely to come. In their journey from London, they had known one another, but now was to come that last act of intimacy, the moment she had so long imagined, and which each of them had desired. Rebecca and Samantha had talked of it, the intimate moment shared between two lovers, and now the time had come, Catherine felt excitement and nerves in equal measure.
“Will we know one another?” she asked, and he smiled.
“Better than we ever have before,” he whispered, his hand now searching her out, causing her to gasp as he pressed his lips to hers.
His breeches were pulled down, her gown pulled open, and he pulled her closer to him, his fingers still arousing her, his lips trailing down to her breasts. She clasped at him, but he pulled away, his fullness now opening her, the tip teasing at her sex. She gasped with the first push, gentle as it was, her whole body stiffening as much in delight as in terror.
“What am I to do?” she gasped, and he smiled.
“Let me show you,” he whispered, pulling her further toward him, their lips pressed together.
Now, he was arched over her, and though she wanted to cry out, she tried with all her might not to allow it, his arms drawing her closer. The pain of that first moment gradually gave way to a pleasure she had not known before, more intense and overwhelming than when his hand had sought her out, a feeling of heat and warmth rising in her loins and spreading through her whole body.
The feeling brought desire, and she clutched at him, pulling him closer, wanting only to know him more. He gave a gasp as she bucked her hips back and forth, his motion slowing as she took control of the movement, any pain she had known now given up to pleasure, a sense of ecstasy rising in her, one she found she could control it with her movements. She liked the sensation of pleasuring him, her own delight building.
“I had not realized it would be so…oh,” she gasped, as he now pulled her closer, his movements more intense, their bodies as one as Catherine felt the climax building inside her.
She gave a gasp, her whole body shuddering, and he too cried out, the moment of his climax coming as hers did, too. Breathless, they rolled to the side, and Catherine could barely move for a moment, so intense was the feeling which had built inside her. She wanted him again, to know that same pleasure, and she rolled back over, their lips meeting in a kiss.
“I have never known such a feeling before,” he said, and she smiled, shaking her head and raising her eyebrows.
“Do you mean that?” she asked, for she knew he had had many lovers in the past.
“None could arouse such passion in me. None I loved as I love you. Oh, Catherine, what a fool I was to think I would resist you,” he said, taking her in his arms.
The fire was growing low now, the embers glowing, and darkness had fallen outside. Catherine felt safe in Ian’s arms, and though she knew there was much difficulty to come, not least when her father discovered she was married, in that moment, none of it seemed to matter. All that mattered was to be there with Ian, to hold him, to love him, and to know she was loved.
