How to Woo... A Reluctant Bride Page 5

  When the kiss ended, he slid his lips across her jaw, nibbled on her earlobe, and then trailed his tongue down her neck, sending more shivers through her. He continued to kiss her body, moving to one of her breasts, closing his mouth over her nipple to lave and suckle it. Her nervousness subsided under his sensual onslaught as her body came alive with new sensations.

  After paying equal homage to her other breast, he again kissed the sensitive skin of her stomach, moving closer and closer to the junction of her thighs. Sliding to one side, he used his hands to urge her legs apart. “Open your legs and bend your knees.”

  “Evan,” she exclaimed, scandalized. She was already wet down there.

  His answer was a chuckle. “Let me see your yoni, Lydia.”

  She did as he asked. “My what?”

  He lay between her legs propped on one elbow while his other hand stroked her inner thigh. “Yoni. It’s the Hindu word for your private parts.” He ran his fingers through the hair covering her mound. “Do you want to know what else it’s called?”

  “No,” she gasped. “Yoni is fine.” Her breath came quicker now, and all the pleasurable feelings he’d aroused seemed to have rushed to her crotch, leaving an aching, unfulfilled need.

  He kissed her inner thigh, then her nether lips, circling around her pulsing core. His hot breath on her yoni had her muscles clenching. Then he licked her slit, sending a shudder throughout her body.

  “Oh, my lord,” she moaned.

  He gripped her hips and continued to lick and nibble on her privates as she writhed with pleasure. Nothing could have prepared her for this.

  When he withdrew his mouth, she moaned a protest. “Don’t stop.”

  His hands took over, teasing the hard button of flesh that seemed to be the center of pleasure. His fingers explored farther, one probing the entrance to her womb. Slowly, he inserted one finger, stretching her. There was a slight pulling sensation, and then her body adjusted.

  He stood and removed his pajama pants, revealing long legs and an erect shaft jutting up from his groin. She stared at it, her eyes wide.

  He took her hand and moved it to his rod. “Does the size of my lingam frighten you?”

  She ran her fingers over the taut skin, like silk over steel. “Is that another Hindu word?”

  He grinned. “You’re catching on quickly.”

  She wrapped her hand around his lingam and squeezed gently, eliciting a groan from him.

  “I can’t wait any longer, love. Lift your hips.”

  When she obeyed, he slipped the extra pillow under her hips, climbed on the bed and moved between her legs again. Supporting himself on his elbows, he stared down at her, his gaze intent, before leaning down to kiss her breasts once more.

  After a moment, he grasped her hips and ran the tip of his lingam over her yoni, stirring her desire. Then he entered her. When she gasped at the slight tearing sensation, he paused, giving her body time to grow accustomed to him. Then he thrust farther inside, filling her.

  As he moved in and out, her breath quickened and her heart raced. Lifting her hips, she bucked against him as her inner muscles throbbed and tensed. Pleasure radiated outward, filling her body with ecstasy until she nearly fainted. Her entire body spasmed as Evan made one last thrust and poured his seed into her waiting womb.

  Chapter 4, Revelation

  “Says Ghotakamukha, ‘Though a man loves a girl ever so much, he never succeeds in winning her without a great deal of talking.’”

  Three days later, Evan lounged on one arm and watched as his new bride packed away the remnants of their picnic lunch. She’d removed the jacket of her deep blue riding habit, due to the warmth of the afternoon, and he pondered how he could get her out of the rest of her clothing. They’d been married three days and two nights now, and he’d never been so content. Or in such a state of perpetual arousal. He reminded himself for the tenth time to thank Harry for the loan of the hunting box. Getting out of the city had been a capital idea. Lydia seemed much more relaxed in this setting.

  He glanced over the pastoral setting. They’d ridden out late this morning after sleeping in and making love again on awaking, then stopped for lunch under the oaks on the edge of a meadow. The summer sky spread blue above them and the land was green as far as the eye could see. No buildings, no coal soot, no city noises, just the soft sighing of the wind, the rustle of leaves, and the occasional snort of one of the horses.

  “It’s beautiful here,” he said.

  Lydia shaded her eyes to look out over the meadow. “Lovely. Oh, look, at the butterflies.”

  He turned to see a group of them flitting and darting about the meadow.

  She sighed. “I do love to watch them flutter about. I wonder what it would feel like to hold one.”

  “Give me your hand.”

  Evan took her hand in his and fluttered his tongue over her palm until she giggled. “Yes, something like that, I imagine, only rather less wet.”

  “Speaking of wet…” He pulled her closer and covered her lips with his, darting his tongue in and out of her mouth. She responded in kind, kissing him back with enthusiasm. Desire pooled in his groin and his cock hardened.

  Sliding his mouth from hers, he kissed her face and neck, little light, teasing kisses, using his lips and tongue.

  She laughed in delight. “Who’d have thought the sight of a few butterflies could lead to such pleasure?”

  “I haven’t begun to pleasure you.”

  Kissing her again, he kneaded one breast through the cotton of her clothing, and felt the nipple harden beneath his fingers. He continued to caress her breasts through a series of long, slow, wet kisses. When he finally broke away, both of them were breathing hard.

  “I want you, Lydia.”

  Her eyebrows flew up. “Out here?”

  “Why not? We’re alone except for nature.”

  She sat up and looked around. “I suppose so.”

  “Lie back, love, and leave everything to me.”

  When she reclined, he unbuttoned her habit-shirt, tugged it over her head, then pulled the straps of her chemise down to bare her bosom to the top of her corset. A flush of desire turned her skin pink. He took his time kissing her breasts, laving the soft flesh, circling her aroused nipples. Finally he took one in his mouth, suckling on the hard tip as she gasped her enjoyment.

  “Good lord, you can turn me into a wanton so easily,” she whispered.

  He smiled against her heated skin. “A wanton wife is every man’s dream.”

  “It is?” she asked dreamily.

  “Well, it’s mine.”

  Leaving her breasts, he pulled off her boots and ran his hands under her skirt, searching for the drawstring to her drawers. He untied it. “Lift your hips.”

  Slowly he inched the drawers off her, caressing the soft skin of her legs as he went.

  Pushing the skirt and her long blouse farther up, he bared her thatch to his view. When he urged her legs apart, she spread them to give him better access. He ran a finger along her slit and discovered she was already wet with need.

  Lowering his head, he pressed a series of kisses to her yoni lips as he caressed her thighs and belly with his fingers. Dipping deeper, he brushed her inner lips with his tongue.

  She squirmed in response. “Oh, yes.”

  He looked up at her to see her eyes were half closed. “Touch yourself, your breasts.”

  Her eyes flew open at his request, but she tentatively touched her bare breasts, cupping them with her hands, and then running her fingers over her nipples.

  “Does that feel good?”

  She raised her hips. “Yes, but not as good as what you were doing a moment ago.”

  With a laugh, he returned his attention to her needy pussy. Spreading her lips, he ran his tongue up one the side of her yoni, then the other. Finally he pressed his tongue to her hardened clitoris, eliciting a shudder through her pelvis. Easing up, he fluttered his tongue over her yoni, soft butterfly kisses that left her
gasping with need.

  “Stop teasing,” she ordered.

  With a chuckle, he settled his mouth over her clitoris and sucked, caressing it gently with his tongue. His hands on her belly felt her body’s contractions as she climaxed in a shuddering moan. He looked up to take in the sated look on her face, and reveled in his power to make her convulse in pleasure.

  Rolling to one side, he drank in the sight of his no-longer-virginal bride, lying half naked, legs spread, clothing in disarray. So much for the proper English lady. He grinned at the knowledge his touch could reduce her to such a state. He loved her innocent yet passionate sexuality, her willingness to try new things. In an instant, he knew he was falling in love with his wife and couldn’t be happier about it.

  She started to push her skirt down, but he stopped her with a hand on hers. “Don’t. I like seeing you like this.”

  “I look like the veriest strumpet,” she protested.

  “True, but I like carnality in a woman.”

  A fierce blush suffused her face. “Oh, Evan.”

  He laughed and drew her into his arms, kissing away her objections. His cock was demanding release, and soon. There was something primal about mating out of doors, with the sky overhead and the wind in his hair. It made him feel powerful.

  “Turn over,” he urged as he unbuttoned his trousers.

  She lifted questioning brows, but did as he asked.

  When she turned onto her stomach, he pulled up her skirt, revealing her shapely legs and buttocks. He ran his hands over her thighs and round bum. “Spread your legs a bit, love.”

  He shoved his pants down and positioned himself on top of her, his cock poised to enter her from the rear. She was wet and soft and ready as he guided his lingam into her hot, tight channel. Arching his back and supporting his weight with his arms, he reared back, thrusting more deeply inside her. Eyes closed, he moved in and out of her body, drawing slowly back then thrusting deep inside. Power surged through him, centered in his loins but spreading outward. His breathing grew labored and sweat beaded on his forehead as he plunged his demanding cock into her, then his balls drew up and he let go in a pulsing eruption. When his contractions ceased, he collapsed onto his back beside Lydia, his chest heaving.

  She moved closer and rested her head on his shoulder. “It’s a good thing this meadow is deserted, lest we scandalize the neighborhood.”

  He laughed and hugged her to him. “Have I told you lately what a fortunate man I am?”

  *

  The next morning Lydia awoke early and eased out of bed, wanting not to disturb Evan who was still deeply asleep. She stood for a moment, gazing at him. His face was relaxed, his jaw shadowed by black stubble. He lay on his back, the sheets bunched around his hips, baring his chest. She marveled at how handsome he was, this husband of hers. Not in the typical way of an English gentleman, of course. She’d decided she preferred the darker hue of his skin that reflected his Indian heritage.

  For the first time, she acknowledged to herself, one of the reasons she’d been so upset about marrying him, though not the primary one, was his Hindu blood. In her mind, it had made him less English, less appropriate as a husband. But that had ceased to matter a little at a time, first with his attention and thoughtfulness, then the kisses and caresses that made her body come alive. And on their wedding night, he’d made love to her with skill and tenderness, revealing the very un-English passion in him.

  Heat rushed through her at the memory of what they’d done yesterday, out in the middle of the countryside. Her lying half-dressed with his head between her legs as he drove her to new heights with his mouth and tongue. And then entering her from behind, like a rutting animal. She clenched her legs together, her yoni wet just thinking about it. For a moment, she was tempted to wake him, but he’d had little enough sleep, waking her several times during the night seeking his pleasure.

  Her heart filled with emotion as she gazed at him. He’d said he was a fortunate man, but he wasn’t the only one. She was a lucky, lucky girl to have found such a passionate husband. The courtship hadn’t been quite the storybook romance she’d dreamed of, but she’d never felt so loved or cherished, and it was more than enough for her.

  She looked around for something to wear and found Evan’s pajama top. Picking it up, she inhaled his scent, pulled it over her head and buttoned it part way. The tails hung down to mid-thigh, but it somehow felt right to wear his clothing. Her feelings toward her new husband had grown at an alarming pace, and she feared she was in danger of falling in love with him. And in danger of being hurt by him.

  Oh, but the risk was worth it, if the last few days were any indication. She’d never been so aware of her body, of her being as a woman. Her hand drifted to her abdomen. Already she might be carrying his child in her womb. The thought of a baby to love filled her with joy.

  Barefoot, she padded from the room and wandered through the hunting box. She found the small study Evan had appropriated and wandered in. He’d left a few things on the small desk and she went to investigate.

  When she picked up the book she’d occasionally caught him reading, two pieces of paper fell out on the desk. Sitting, she opened the book, entitled The Kama Sutra of Vatsyayana. “What an odd title,” she murmured as she began leafing through it.

  *

  When Evan awoke, Lydia was gone as was his pajama top. He grinned at the thought of her wearing it, her shapely legs showing.

  Jumping out of bed, he donned his pajama bottoms and went in search of her. She was in the study, standing at the window, staring out at the garden. She looked adorable wearing nothing but his pajama top, exposing her long legs. “Good morning, love.”

  He moved beside her, slipped his arms around her waist, and kissed her neck. She stood stiffly, not responding.

  “Is something wrong, Lydia?”

  She turned to glare at him, her eyes narrowed. “Was it all a joke to you? Or was it a wager?”

  He stared back at her perplexed. “What are you talking about?”

  She gestured toward his desk. “I saw the book. And your lists.”

  Pushing past him, she strode to the desk, picked up one of his papers, and read, “‘the man should become a great friend of the brother of the girl.’” She whirled to face him. “Harry hadn’t seen you in years. Not until you had need of a highborn bride.”

  “Harry and I don’t exactly travel in the same circles, but we were friends in school,” he reminded her. “We happened to run into each other a few months ago and renewed our acquaintance.” He’d never told her it was Harry who suggested his sister Lydia when Evan said he was looking for a bride. Better to let her think it was his idea. She’d been hurt enough by her family as it was.

  “I suppose I should just be glad you didn’t kidnap me, like the book recommends.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “Kidnapping is against the law! Do you really think me such a barbarian?”

  “After reading all this, I do not know what to think, except you’ve been making love to me, using this book.” She picked up the Kama Sutra, which had been left lying open. “It’s all right here. The first time we had ‘congress’ it was the ‘widely opened position.’ At other times it was the ‘clasping’ or ‘pressing position.’ And yesterday, outside, you made love to me like an animal!”

  The last accusation made Evan wince. “I was trying to introduce some variety in our lovemaking.”

  She returned to one of his lists. “That’s not all you used the book for. ‘The man should do whatever the girl takes most delight in, and he should get for her whatever she may have a desire to possess.’ That’s why you wooed me with flowers, and trips to the opera, and bought the grand piano. Can you deny it?”

  “I thought it good advice,” he said, knowing how lame it sounded.

  “Wasn’t it enough you’d already bought me?” Her voice rose at the end, and he saw her blinking back tears.

  He stepped toward her, his hand out. “Oh, Lydia, it wasn�
��t like that. Yes, I wanted to please you. I knew your heart wasn’t in this marriage.” When she refused to take his hand, he dropped it to his side. “I know you got a bad bargain. I know it wasn’t fair. Won’t you give me another chance?”

  She stared back at him, looking more hurt than angry.

  Pain ricocheted through him at the possibility he’d ruined his chances with her. “Was my lovemaking so distasteful?”

  Her eyes widened as she suddenly seemed to realize she had the power to hurt him, too. “No, not at all.” A blush suffused her face and she dropped her gaze. “I rather liked that.”

  He let out a sigh of relief and pulled her into his arms, encouraged when she didn’t resist. “Good, at least I did something right. We can return the piano.”

  Her head shot up. “Don’t you dare! I love the piano.”

  “Then what were you so angry about?”

  She bit her lower lip. “I guess I felt you’d been manipulating me from the beginning. To make me more compliant, perhaps. And using that book to do it.”

  “Uncle Frederick didn’t even give me the book until the day of our engagement party. By then I feared I was already falling in love with you, and in despair of ever winning your regard.”

  She froze. “What did you just say?”

  “Uncle Fred—”

  “Not that part. The last part.”

  He gazed down at the woman in his arms. “That I was falling in love with you? Well, I was and I am.”

  “Oh, Evan.” She hugged him, nestling her head on his shoulder.

  “Is there any chance my love might be reciprocated some day?”

  She pulled back and smiled at him. “Oh, I think there’s every chance of that happening.”

  He whooped, scooped her into his arms and spun around in a circle. She was laughing when he set her back on her feet.