Page 77 of The Forbidden Lord
Jordan’s bedchamber wasn’t what Emily had expected. To be sure, it had a massive canopied bed perfect for seduction, with lush damask hangings of midnight blue dripping down from an ornate mahogany cornice.
But where were the lewd paintings, the erotic sculptures meant to excite one’s lust? For a man who spent his nights in the arms of tarts and merry widows, his bedchamber was oddly sober and sparsely furnished, with only a neat dressing table and writing desk to accompany the bed.
“Here we are.” He shot the bolt, and the sound echoed loudly in her ears.
“Yes.” Dear heavens, she really was here. In his bedchamber. Alone with him.
“Let’s get rid of this, shall we?” He approached her from behind and pushed her hair aside to unbutton her gown. She felt the cloth parting, exposing her back a little at a time to the chilly air. She shivered, partly from the cold, partly from apprehension. When he was kissing her senseless, she forgot the enormity of what she was about to do. But having him undress her--that was a reality she could hardly ignore. After this was all over, she would be thoroughly and truly ruined.
By a man who would rather eat nails than marry.
Not that she could imagine being married to him anyway. One thing this visit had accomplished was to remind her of the vast difference in their stations. This room alone was twice the size of all the bedchambers at the rectory put together, and this was only his town house. He probably had more than one estate. His wife would have to be a consummate hostess, a woman with skills Emily had never dreamed of.
A woman like Emily could only be suitable as a mistress. Yet she would fail at even that. The very way he unlaced and unbuttoned and untied the many fastenings of her gown showed that he had experience she lacked. He’d obviously done this before many times.
She hadn’t even done it once. If she made it through this without his guessing the full extent of her inexperience, it would be a miracle.
Of course, once he took her he would discover the truth. She’d been told that losing one’s virginity involved blood and some pain—she could hardly disguisethat. But by then, it wouldn’t matter. His only reason for not wanting a virgin was his dislike of inexperienced women … and his fear of being forced into marriage. The latter she would reassure him wasn’t a concern.
But the former--
She must have stiffened or made some unconscious movement that revealed her fears, for he paused as he finished unhooking her gown. “What’s wrong?”
“What do you mean? N-nothing is wrong.”
He turned her around, his gaze searching her face. “One would think to look at you that you’d never been undressed by a man before.”
She swallowed. “Don’t be silly,” she said with a brittle laugh. “How could I have experienced the delights of love without being undressed? I’m just … concerned that I might not please you. After all, you’ve known a great many women, or so they say.”
Like a fiery torch, his gaze drifted down over her loosened gown. “None like you. Trust me, Emily, it would be impossible for you not to please me tonight.”
Then she was in his arms and his mouth was on hers, making her forget everything but him. He tasted so good, the brandied heat of his lips driving out the chill of her fears. He shoved her gown off her shoulders, and it whispered to the floor, leaving her in only her knee-length chemise.
“Mine,” he whispered in a guttural tone, like a starving man marking his possession of the single loaf of bread fallen from the baker’s wagon. “All mine.” And his dark, probing kiss was a blatant repetition of the word.
His. She wanted to be his, if only for tonight. From the moment he’d first stepped into that carriage with her, he’d roused a strange restlessness in her that had lain dormant until then. His first kiss had cut her free of a lifetime’s moorings, setting her adrift in a wildly unfamiliar sea of unfathomed temptations. Now she never wanted to go back.
This might be all she’d have of him, but it would be enough. One delightful night to cherish in her heart forever.
As his mouth mated with hers, she burrowed her hands inside his shirt to mold the warm skin. It was so different fromhers, so rough with hair, the muscles beneath it taut and firm. They bunched into fine ropes beneath her touch.
He groaned, tearing his lips away. His fingers tangled in the straps of her chemise, drawing it down until it pooled in the center of her scarlet gown like a camellia surrounded by roses. She was completely naked.
Unable to mask her shyness, she reached for him, but he swept her hands aside. “I want to look at you. Let me look.”
Color crept over her skin from her face down. No one, not even a maidservant, had ever seen her like this. She’d been taught it was wrong to bare one’s body except for the length of time it took to bathe or dress. Her parents had often recited the passage in the Bible where Noah placed a curse on his youngest son for having seen his nakedness.
Yet as Jordan continued to stare at her with unabashed admiration, all her shame at violating those strictures vanished.
“You’re exquisite,” he said in a voice hoarse with need. “If you only knew how many times I’ve imagined you like this. And how far short my imagination fell of the reality.”
It was Lady Emma who answered, for surely Emily couldn’t be so bold. “Shall we see ifmyimagination falls short of the reality?” she teased as she stripped off his shirt.
She marveled at her audacity. Amazing how a man’s admiring gaze could free a woman to be so terribly naughty. But he didn’t seem to mind. He obligingly yanked off his trousers, then his stockings and drawers, leaving him as naked as she.
Naked. And completely unashamed. She sucked in a startled breath, and he grinned.
“Well? Do I meet with your approval?”
