The Redemption of Julian Price(34)

“But why not?” she asked in affront. “If you intend to put it inside me, haven’t I a right to see it first?”

“Damn it, Hen!” he moaned. “Your curiosity is going to bloody kill me.” He tore impatiently at the buttons on his falls. Her eyes widened in shock at the first sight of his pillar of manly flesh. Should she take Lady Cheswick’s advice and touch him? Transfixed by its proud purple crown, she reached out tentatively, stroking with her fingertips. It was surprisingly smooth, almost silky in texture, and very warm. It jerked at the contact of her fingers.

Julian shuddered.

Startled, she drew back. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Not wrong exactly,” he said. “It tickled.”

“Tickled? Oh? Then how should I touch it?”

“Not timidly,” he replied. She sucked in a breath as he wrapped her fingers around the hard, hot shaft. Holding his hand over hers, he lightly squeezed and then commenced moving their joined hands up and down. “Like this,” he replied, teeth clenched.

“Are you in pain?”

“No, Hen. It’s just holding back is bloody uncomfortable.”

“Holding what back?”

“The urge to finish what we began,” he bit back, his voice as harsh as his expression.

“You mean you desire release?” she said.

“Yes! Damn it, Henrietta!” he growled, removing her hand from him. “You are pushing this beyond my bounds of restraint. I promised not to debauch you. You’re making that promise very hard to keep.”

“But you gave me release without being inside me,” she reasoned. “Does it not work the same way with a man? Can I not do something for you?”

“There are a number of things you could do for me, Henrietta, but it’s too soon for that. You are uninitiated in these things.”

“You fear putting me off? That I would be shocked or repulsed?”

“Yes.”

“But you said I should not be timid.”

“I did, but it would be far better for us to explore these things in stages. Even if it bloody kills me, we will wait,” he replied with an audible grinding of teeth.

“Is that truly what you want?”

“Yes, Hen. I wish to do the honorable thing by you. I will not allow a cloud of shame or remorse to hover over this union. You deserve no less.”

“I’m disappointed,” she said, “but happy at the same time.”

“I will make you very happy,” he said and raised her hand to his lips. “You have my promise on it.”

***

Two nights later, after having repeated their solemn vows at St. Michael’s with Harry and Penelope as witnesses, Julian kept that promise. The servants stood with mouths agape as Julian carried Henrietta over the threshold at Price Hall and straight up the staircase to the master bedchamber, where he kicked the door closed behind them.

“What about the wedding breakfast?” she asked breathlessly. “You have scandalized everyone, Julian.”

“It won’t be the first time,” Julian replied grimly. “Nor will it be the last.”

Her cheeks flamed. “But they must all know why—”

“I don’t care, Hen.” He set her on her feet, spun her around, and began unlacing her gown and stays. “You are now my wife.” His lips brushed the back of her neck, sending a ripple down her spine. “My patience is at an end.”

He turned her around to face him and drew her into his arms for the tenderest of kisses. She entwined her own arms around his neck, melting into him with a sigh. “I’ve dreamed of this moment.”

“I’ll try not to hurt you,” he said, concern clouding his dark eyes. “But there’s no way to avoid it.”

“I know,” she said. “I don’t mind.” Her eyes met his. “I want this. I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

“You may not enjoy it the first time,” he said, peeling her gown slowly from her shoulders and kissing each one in turn. “But I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

She stepped out of her gown as it slithered to the floor. Her stays followed. Dressed in only her shift, shoes, and stockings, she reached her hands inside his coat. “I want to undress you too. I want to see what manner of husband I have acquired.”

“You wish to see me naked?” His mouth twitched as he stripped off his coat.

“Yes. You are not the only one with an imagination. Mine has quite run wild these last two days,” she teased.

“That is less than reassuring, Hen. Now I wonder if I can possibly live up to it.”

“I doubt you have much cause for worry given that you will be the first naked man I have ever seen and thus become the standard to which all others will be measured.”

“What others?” he asked with a mock scowl. “Do you now intend to inspect naked men?”

“That’s not how I meant it,” she protested. “I only meant that you are now the model to me, the ideal.”

Calmed by their easy banter, her fingers ceased trembling enough to go to work on his waistcoat buttons. Once open, she slid her hands inside and over his shirt, relishing the heat of his body and the planes of hard muscle covered in soft linen. Teased by the mixed essences of manly musk and ambergris, she drew in a breath. Closing her eyes, she memorized the scent of Julian. It wasn’t enough. Her senses cried out to feel his warm skin. She tugged impatiently at his shirttails, freeing them from his breeches. “Take it off.”