Page 35 of The Dandy Lyon

Joanna lay in the middle of the huge four poster bed of dark cherrywood, the fireplace roaring to her right, the closed door to Marcus’s dressing room on the left. To try to relax, she glanced around the spacious room, part of her suite of rooms, that boasted a sitting area with a chair and a chaise longue before the fire, a screen painted with a Chinese scene in black and red in the corner hiding the washstand and close stool, another closed door that was her dressing room, and tried to stop trembling. Oh, she was ecstatically happy to be married to Marcus and wanted to be with him as a wife was to her husband. Once they got through this…part of being married for the first time, she’d stop being nervous.

Utterly angry at herself for having such traitorous feelings, Joanna tried for the twentieth time to persuade herself that what was about to happen was a perfectly normal result of two people loving one another and wanting to share themselves…all of themselves…with each other. It seemed disloyal to Marcus for her to have such trepidations about tonight, as though she didn’t trust him to take care of her as he had from the very beginning. As he had with their dance back in May where he could have made a scene with Geoffrey but didn’t. Or when he rescued her from the bevy of suitors who were pressing her too sharply at the lodge. Or when he insisted on teaching her to shoot, which had in fact possibly saved her from assault at the hands of Bartlow. Marcus had been there, taking care of her at every turn. She needn’t worry that he would do the same here in this bed tonight.

Still, she was scared. She might hate herself for it, but she was honest enough to admit it. To herself, at least. Admitting it to Marcus might not be possible. It seemed like such a betrayal of the good, kind man she knew him to be. So she would put on a brave face and do what must be done. She’d worn her new night rail, made especially for her wedding night, with Cluny lace at the high neck and long sleeve edges. For all its seeming modesty, the garment was shockingly sheer—you could see her dark nipples distinctly through the thin fabric. Joanna had thought that might be something Marcus would enjoy, not taking into consideration that she now would feel almost nude wearing it.

The door of the dressing room opened and Joanna swallowed convulsively as Marcus emerged, covered from neck to knees in a dark-blue banyan with a subtle swirling pattern to it. A very decent garment that would shock no one. What on earth would he think when he saw her nightgown?

“Good evening, sweetheart.” He sent a gentle smile her way, then headed to the writing desk tucked into a corner and poured two glasses of wine. “I almost told Richards to bring champagne so we could celebrate properly.” Marcus glanced over his shoulder at her. “But I know you enjoyed this vintage when we were in Scotland, so I took care to stock a good many bottles of it.” Turning to her he smiled, then came toward her with the glass outstretched. “I thought something familiar in an unfamiliar place might be soothing to you.”

The utter kindness and thoughtfulness of the gesture made Joanna’s breathing slow and she relaxed for the first time since she climbed into the bed. Marcus knew exactly what to do to put her at ease in the most awkward situation of her life. She accepted the glass and raised it toward him. “To our most perfect union, my love. May it last forever.”

Smiling broadly, his gaze tender, Marcus raised his glass and touched it to hers, the ring of the two vessels a joyous sound.

Joanna sipped her wine, relishing the familiar vintage. They drank in silence until her glass was almost empty. She halted, not quite a full sip left and handed it back to him. The last thing she wished was to be foxed on her wedding night.

He set both glasses on the nightstand, then sat on the bed beside her and took her hands.

Joanna’s heart sped up until she feared he could hear the pounding, but she met his eyes evenly.

Without a word, Marcus leaned forward and kissed her, seizing her lips with such raw passion that her toes curled underneath the covers. They had kissed before this, of course, but the urgency as his tongue thrust into her mouth and plundered here and there with absolute abandon was new, heady, and when he broke the kiss, left her wanting more.

“Being you, Joanna, I’m certain you already know what takes place between a husband and wife in their bed.” His gaze never left her face and though her cheeks heated, she nodded.

“I do.” Her mother had made vague statements that only confused her, so after days of wheedling, she’d finally gotten Diana to explain it to her—in enough detail that she was both appalled and curious at the same time.

Grinning, Marcus rubbed her knuckles softly with his thumb. “Good. And I believe you know me well enough to realize I am a patient man.”

“Any more patient and I’d have had to step in with a drastic way to persuade Geoffrey to let us wed.” Her mouth pursed in a playful pout.

“I say this to assure you that if you become frightened by anything we do, or dislike it, you only have to tell me and we will stop, try another way at another time.” His voice was tender as he lifted her hand to kiss the back of it. The touch of his lips to her skin sent a shiver down her back. A good sensation. “I must warn you, however, that there is a point of no return.” Marcus’s eyes met hers and she couldn’t look away. “A point at which I fear I will not be able to restrain myself from completing the act. So if you have any doubts, you must voice them—”

She put a finger to his lips, stopping his words. “I don’t have any doubts. Not with you, Marcus.”

His smile broadened, then he kissed her finger and grasped it. “Then by all means, let us begin. May I join you under the covers?”

She nodded and watched, heart in her throat, as he slid the banyan off his shoulders, revealing his chest, thick with dark hairs, and his stomach where the raw scar from the knife was still freshly pink. As Joanna had tended him for days as a nurse, she’d seen this part of his body many times. The part of him lower than his stomach, however, was undiscovered country and her curious gaze refused to remain above his waist. Even though she had an idea what the male member looked like, thanks to Diana’s frank conversation, she wasn’t quite prepared for that very large, stiffly protruding part of Marcus she caught sight of as he quickly slid under the covers next to her.

“Do not be alarmed, my love.” He slipped over right beside her, pressing his body to hers. “We can go slowly.”

Heat poured off him, warming her immediately and making her long to remove her nightgown so they could lie skin to skin. But he hadn’t seen her in it yet and it had been made especially for him. Well, she could remedy that. Joanna sat up and turned, thrusting her chest out toward him. “Do you want me to take my gown off slowly, then?”

His eyes flashed, a hunger in them she’d glimpsed before that now roared to life. “Yes, please.” He propped himself up on his side, one hand under his head, not taking his eyes off her.

Not sure which way the garment should go, up and over, or down over her shoulders, Joanna opted for over her shoulders as being the slower path to disrobement. She unbuttoned the befrilled placket and the gown flopped open. Marcus sucked in a breath, his gaze pinned to her chest. Beginning to enjoy teasing him, Joanna pushed the lacy fabric first off her right shoulder, then off her left, being careful to keep the material clutched in her hand, not showing him anything much yet. Carefully, she lowered the garment even more, until she might be thought to wear a low-cut evening gown, the edging of lace riding just above her nipples.

The overwhelming approval in her husband’s face emboldened Joanna, so she positioned the gown exactly so, then pulled the sheer fabric taut across her breasts.

Marcus groaned, then sprang up in the bed. “Allow me to help you, my dear.” He grasped the open collar of the gown and with one swift motion, the sound of ripping fabric filled the chamber. Joanna sat, mouth open, as her gown fell onto the mattress in pieces, her breasts now completely free, her nipples hardening in the cool air.

Grinning, Marcus leaned toward her and engulfed the nearest furled tip with his mouth.

Joanna gasped, then moaned as his tongue licked the sensitive tip, laving it with gentle strokes that made every hair stand up on her body. Slowly, he pressed her to lie back, until she lay on the mattress, the tatters of her gown around her. He slid his hand up to cup the other breast, tweaking that tip and rolling it between his fingers until her entire body throbbed. Then he switched, his mouth now pressed to her left breast, his hand stroking the right.

A moan of pleasure slipped from her mouth, surprising Joanna and eliciting a like response from Marcus. “Do you like that, sweetheart?”

“Oh, yes.” Joanna slipped her arms around his neck. “This is the most wonderful I’ve ever felt.”

“Can I show you more?” He stared into her eyes, his own jet black and eager.