The Viscount Who Loved Me (Bridgertons, #2)(84)
“I—I had not considered,” Kate replied.
“I thought not.” He let go of the door handle, and the door swung open, revealing the faces of two footmen who were obviously trying very hard not to look curious. Kate remained silent as Anthony helped her down and led her into the house.
His household staff was assembled in the small entry hall, and Kate murmured her greetings as each member was introduced to her by the butler and housekeeper. The staff wasn’t very extensive, as the house was small by ton standards, but the introductions took a good twenty minutes.
Twenty minutes which, unfortunately, did little to calm her nerves. By the time he placed his hand at the small of her back and guided her toward the stairs, her heart was racing, and for the first time in her life, she thought she might actually pass out.
It wasn’t that she feared the marriage bed.
It wasn’t even that she feared not pleasing her husband. Even an innocent virgin such as herself could tell that his actions and reactions when they kissed were proof enough of his desire. He would show her what to do; of that she had no doubt.
What she feared…
What she feared…
She caught her throat closing, choking, and she brought her fist to her mouth, biting on the knuckle to steady her stomach, as if that might actually do something to help the awful churning that had her in knots.
“My God,” Anthony whispered as the reached the landing. “You’re terrified.”
“No,” she lied.
He took her by the shoulders and twisted her to face him, staring deeply into her eyes. Cursing under his breath, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into his bedroom, muttering, “We need privacy.”
When they reached his chamber—a richly appointed, masculine room exquisitely decorated in shades of burgundy and gold—he planted his hands on his hips and demanded, “Didn’t your mother tell you about…ah…about…”
Kate would have laughed at his flailings if she hadn’t been so nervous. “Of course,” she said quickly. “Mary explained everything.”
“Then what the hell is the problem?” He cursed again, then apologized. “I beg your pardon,” he said stiffly. “That certainly is not the way to set you at ease.”
“I can’t say,” she whispered, her eyes sliding to the floor, focusing on the intricate pattern of the carpet until they swam with tears.
A strange, horrible choking noise emerged from Anthony’s throat. “Kate?” he asked hoarsely. “Did someone…has a man…ever forced unwelcome attentions on you?”
She looked up, and the concern and terror on his face nearly made her heart melt. “No!” she cried out. “It isn’t that. Oh, don’t look that way, I can’t bear it.”
“I can’t bear it,” Anthony whispered, closing the distance between them as he took her hand and raised it to his lips. “You must tell me,” he said, his voice oddly choked. “Do you fear me? Do I repulse you?”
Kate shook her head frantically, unable to believe that he could possibly think any woman would find him repulsive.
“Tell me,” he whispered, his lips pressing against her ear. “Tell me how to make it right. For I don’t think I can grant you your reprieve.” He molded his body against hers, his strong arms holding her close as he groaned, “I can’t wait a week, Kate. I simply cannot do it.”
“I…” Kate made the mistake of looking up into his eyes, and she forgot everything she’d meant to say. He was staring at her with a burning intensity that forged a fire in the very center of her being, leaving her breathless, hungry, and desperate for something she did not quite understand.
And she knew that she could not make him wait. If she looked into her own soul, and looked with honesty and without delusion, she was forced to admit that she did not wish to wait, either.
For what could be the point? Maybe he would never love her. Maybe his desire would never be focused as single-mindedly on her as hers was for him.
But she could pretend. And when he held her in his arms and pressed his lips to her skin, it was so, so easy to pretend.
“Anthony,” she whispered, his name a benediction, a plea, a prayer all in one.
“Anything,” he replied raggedly, dropping to his knees before her, his lips trailing a hot path along her skin as his fingers frantically worked to release her from her gown. “Ask me anything,” he groaned. “Anything in my power, I give to you.”
Kate felt her head fall back, felt the last of her resistance melting away. “Just love me,” she whispered. “Just love me.”
His only answer was a low growl of need.
Chapter 17
The deed is done! Miss Sheffield is now Katharine, Viscountess Bridgerton.
This Author extends the very best of wishes to the happy couple. Sensible and honorable people are surely scarce among the ton, and it’s certainly gratifying to see two of this rare breed joined in marriage.
LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 16 MAY 1814
Until that moment, Anthony had not even realized just how badly he’d needed for her to say yes, to admit to her need. He clutched her to him, his cheek pressing against the gentle curve of her belly. Even in her wedding gown she smelled of lilies and soap, that maddening scent that had haunted him for weeks.