Colin was having trouble believing it was his wedding night. Even worse, he was actually nervous. He'd never been married before, after all - never been with an innocent. What was he supposed to do?
Well, that was a stupid question. His body knew damned well what to do. It had been clamoring for exactly that since the moment he'd opened his eyes and seen Augusta - two of her - looking down at him.
Which didn't explain why he was pacing the kitchen floor in his stocking feet, while she was upstairs getting ready for bed.
He'd sent her in ahead while he took care of the horses. Twilight was approaching fast and he'd hurried through the grooming process, then brought his saddlebags into the house and unloaded his booty. Two bottles of champagne, some meat and cheese for a late-night repast, a bunch of grapes and even another box of sweets. He wanted tonight to be perfect for Augusta. Surely, after all she'd endured in the past few years, she was entitled to have a magical wedding night. The only problem was that the groom had a sudden case of the jitters. Shaking his head, he chastised himself. This would never do.
He moved into the butler's pantry and found a tray, some rather dusty wineglasses and a couple of plates. After arranging the bounty on the tray and covering the food with a clean cloth, he mustered his courage and made his way up the stairs before it occurred to him he didn't know which room she was in. He'd never so much as set foot on the upper floors of the castle.
"My lord?" The voice floated down the corridor to the left of the stair landing, so Colin turned.
"Colin," he replied, finding one open door just a few feet down the hallway. "I don't care for the idea of being milorded on our wedding night."
Her laugh was soft and musical. "Oh good. I've never understood couples who call each other Mr. or Mrs. or whatever, even in the privacy of their homes. My father and stepmother always called each other by name."
He rounded the doorway and damned near dropped the tray. She stood in front of a looking-glass in nothing but her chemise and stays. Her long, chestnut hair hung straight and shining to her waist, the brush she'd been using still in her hand.
"Then so shall we," he decreed, setting the tray down with a clatter on a small writing table by the doorway. The room was a large one, with several chairs and a deep, cushioned window seat. A crackling fire burned in the carved stone fireplace. What dominated the space though, was a large, four-posted bed, turned down and inviting.
"These stays lace up the back," Augusta said, turning to face the mirror and pulling her hair over her shoulder to reveal the laces. "Since I don't have a lady's maid, you'll have to help me with them."
"Any time," he said fervently, stepping up behind her. The snug stays pushed her generous bosom upward, then hugged the curve of her waist and hips. Unable to resist just enjoying her for a moment, he stepped up behind her and laid both hands on her waist, resting his chin on the top of her head as he regarded her reflection in the mirror. "You're lovely, you know. Every man in England is going to be jealous of my good fortune."
"You don't need to flatter me, Colin. We're already wed." In the reflection, her wide lips curled into a good-humored smile.
Her stays probably prevented her from feeling the ridge of his erection pressed into her lower back, but surely she knew he wanted her. "It isn't flattery if it's the truth, my dear. Look into the mirror and see how well we fit together."
Augusta couldn't mistake the gravelly tone of his words for anything but desire. Strange how she knew that, but she did. She studied their reflection, saw his darkly tanned hands standing out against the white linen of her undergarments. The day was quickly fading, but she'd remembered to light the lamps when she'd stoked the fire. Then she'd slowly undressed and hung her new dress in the wardrobe, deliberately stalling. While she knew, intellectually, what was supposed to happen tonight, she had no explanation at all for the odd sensations that tumbled around in her stomach and even less for the ones that made her breasts tighten and her thighs press together to salve the ache that had begun between them. She knew she was damp, as her body readied itself to take him inside her.
Fortunately, Colin seemed to understand. "Can you not see how perfectly designed you are for a man's hand, Augusta? Your waist is so small and delicate, your breasts so full and appealing. Your hips are made to drive a man wild and that mouth..." he touched the corner of her lip with the tip of his finger. "That mouth has been making me want to taste it and more, since the moment I met you. After kissing you last night, I couldn't sleep for wanting more."
"Really?" Her breathing was shallow as she waited to see what he would do next. "I couldn't sleep either," she admitted. "I wanted...more, too."
Colin groaned. "Oh, darling, you're making it very difficult for me to go slowly." While she still stared into the mirror, he lowered his head to kiss the side of her throat, bringing his hands up to rest just beneath the swell of her breasts. Her skin tingled where his lips touched, gently nibbling on her sensitive flesh and she tilted her head to give him more access.
"You taste wonderful," he murmured, licking a line along the ridge of her shoulder, then moving around to nip at the nape of her neck. "But I want to see more of you, touch and taste more of you." He took a step back and slid his hands to the back of her waist to untie her stays.
Augusta willed her knees to continue holding her up as he carefully undid the laces, then pushed the undergarment with its small cap sleeves off her shoulders. Now she wore nothing but the ridiculously thin chemise the modiste had insisted on, knowing that this would be Augusta's wedding night. The cotton lawn was so fine that she could see the dark circles of her nipples through the fabric and the dark hair at the juncture of her thighs. This time, when Colin laid his hands on her stomach and pulled her back against his body, she could clearly feel the thick ridge of his manhood against her spine and her knees wobbled even more.
"Look at the way your body responds to mine," he whispered against her ear. He cupped her breasts in his hands, lifting them so her hardened nipples could be clearly seen through the thin cotton. "Your breasts are swollen, aren't they? And your nipples have gone hard. You want this, don't you Augusta? You want me?"