Page 31 of The Baron’s Halo

A moment later, they were plunged into darkness and Isabelle squealed. The bed dipped as Sandy slid beneath the covers next to her.

“Don’t be frightened, love.” His silky voice made her shiver.

But this was Sandy, the man she knew and loved. The one she trusted. He was right. There was nothing to be frightened of.

“Lay down, sweetheart.”

She hadn’t realized she was still sitting up in the bed. Awkwardly, she slid down, inch by inch, until her head rested on the pillow. Stiff as a tree trunk, nonetheless, she was lying down.

“May I kiss the bride?”

Isabelle jumped. When had he gotten so close? Now his lips were against her ear, his breath tickling her skin, heating her whole body with just his voice. There was nothing wrong with this…closeness. Nor with a kiss. She’d kissed Sandy many times before. Nothing to be frightened of at all.

Turning toward him, she sensed his mouth close to hers, then his lips covered hers, pressing firmly. She needed to relax, to not think about every movement he was making. Instead, she needed to let go, abandon herself to the moment and simply kiss him.

On impulse, she slid her arm over his shoulder, wanting to bring him closer—and met the bare skin of his back. Isabelle froze. When had he taken off his shirt? That could only mean that he was naked all the way down and lying next to her.

Heart beating so fast she could scarcely breathe, Isabelle tried to inch away from him, but as she did, she managed to bring him with her, until she lay flat on her back, with Sandy lying on top of her. Lying naked on top of her.

Paralyzed beneath a man…just like before. Eyes shut tight, unable to speak, Isabelle tried to will him away. That would never work, but what else could she do? He shifted, the hardened part of him pressing against her thighs. Trembling, she waited for him to—

“Isabelle?”

Her eyes flew open, though in the darkness she couldn’t see anything. She knew his voice, nonetheless. The man she loved. The man she trusted. “Yes.”

He raised himself off her. “Am I hurting you, my love?”

She shook her head, but of course, he couldn’t see that. “No, you’re not hurting me.” She tried to make her voice sound confident, but it didn’t.

“Would you rather I stop right now?”

Torn by indecision, Isabelle couldn’t speak at first. One tiny part of her didn’t want him to stop. She wished to be a good wife to Sandy in every way. If he just got on with it now, she could get through it, in the hope the next time would be better. Fighting to keep the tremor out of her voice, she kept the answer as short as possible. “No.”

The touch of his finger stroking her cheek made her flinch.

“You don’t have to lie to me, sweetheart.”

The gentleness in his voice smote her heart. He was too good to her. “I’m not lying.”

“Your words may say one thing, my dear, but your body is telling me a different story. I know when a woman is willing, eager even. And I know when she is not.” His lips brushed her forehead and suddenly his weight lifted from her. “If you are not ready for these intimacies with me, we can wait. We have all the time in the world. I’m a patient man.”

In those last words, she heard a smile.

The bed creaked as he lay back on his side of the bed.

For the briefest of moments, she wanted to call him back, wanted to feel his weight on her again, feel his warmth close to her. But he was right. When he was on top of her, she hadn’t wanted that weight and everything it implied. Yet she wanted Sandy, with all her heart.

But only a little bit of him for now.

As though he’d read her thoughts, he clasped her hand in his, the warmth of his skin comforting beyond belief.

“Better?”

“Much better.” Twisting quickly, she placed a light kiss on his bare shoulder. Truly this man possessed the proverbial patience of a saint. If she looked closely, she might see the faint light of a halo around his head. Not many men would agree to spend their wedding night holding hands with their frightened bride. Isabelle gave his hand a squeeze. Somehow she would overcome this fear, and as soon as she possibly could.

She didn’t wish to try Sandy for too long—even a saint’s control could be broken if unrelentingly tested. If she set her mind to it, it shouldn’t take her long to convince herself she could enjoy intimacy with her husband. As Sandy had said, they had time.

By the grace of God, they wouldn’t need much.