Free Jo Beverley - [Rogue ] by An Arranged Mariage Page B

of joy from this marriage and would be grateful for anything good that came of it.
    "I will take care of you, though," he added. "Trust me."
    Feeling safer than she had since she was a baby, she nodded.
    "Then let us seal the pact in the usual manner." His hand felt down her body to the hem of her nightgown. "No, relax, my dear. Relax. Don't fight me."
    Despite all he had done Eleanor almost struggled, but at that moment his face was illumined by a sudden flare from a breaking coal. It was not a monster's face. It was normal and alight with amusement. "This unbecoming garment I will allow you to retain, but not this pigtail."
    Eleanor had merely tied her long hair back for the night. Now he tugged off the ribbon and ran his fingers through her hair. He raised it high and let it drift down over both of them. Bewildered, and with hair in her mouth, Eleanor let him do as he wished. She wondered if loose hair was an essential part of the marriage act. It was an inconvenient one. Last time it had taken an age to work out the knots.
    Last time...
    Panic choked her. She pushed against him.
    Patiently his soft voice soothed her again and she relaxed. His hand stroked her hair from the crown of her head down over her shoulder, her breast, her side. "That," he said reverently, "is beautiful."
    It was strangely wonderful to be thought beautiful.
    He began to kiss her, little kisses in unlikely places such as on her eyelids and her earlobe. All the time his hands stroked and his voice murmured nonsense.
    She had never thought humor a part of this business. Perhaps he was mad. If so, he was carrying her into madness too, for she found herself smiling and in danger of laughing outright.
    "...a little neglected spot, I think," he said. "My nurse always told me to remember the back of the neck. How many yards of material are there in this garment?"
    His hands were underneath and she couldn't help tensing again, but she tried to answer in a light tone. "About ten, I should think."
    "Good God," he said, laughing. "If you have enough of them our fortune is made, my dear."
    His voice had become a little less controlled, but perhaps that was just laughter. Then his mouth touched hers again. This time it was different. His tongue played about her lips and his breath was hot and moist against hers. Gently his lips insisted that hers soften and open to him. She found strange pleasure in the intimacy. In some way that surrender helped her not to tense as his hand parted her thighs and his hard body came between her legs.
    A hand gently positioned her and he entered, smooth and slow.
    There was no pain. Relief drained all the tension from Eleanor, leaving her lightheaded and floating. Just as she had felt as a child when she had expected a whipping and escaped.
    He moved steadily in and out of her—an extraordinary sensation, but since it was painless she could accept it. After a moment, as it seemed she should, she moved with him. Rather, she thought, like rowing a boat.
    His breathing became clearly audible, faster and faster. He moved faster and faster. Eleanor wondered whether his face had assumed that monster mask, but she shut her eyes and kept them tightly closed. She didn't want to know.
    With a series of gasping shudders he came to rest, his warm breath rippling against her neck. Instinctively she ran a soothing hand through his soft hair like a mother with a child, wondering what they were supposed to do now.
    With a suddenness that startled her the Nicholas of before was back, his hand tracing the planes of her face.
    "Eleanor, how are you? Damnation, I knew I should have left a light."
    "I'm fine," she said. "I—" His hand gently covered her lips.
    "Don't say anything now," he whispered as he moved off her carefully. "It would be better not, and we both need our sleep."
    He gathered her once more into his arms, and she settled there as if she had known this comfort all her life. He said softly, "I'm sorry, my dear. I never could resist