The starched white broadcloth fell in a crumple on the floor and Phillip stepped over it, moving toward her outstretched hand. She wanted to feel the smooth skin that had been hidden under his shirt. Who would have known that such a proper gentleman had such firm, golden ridges dusted with dark hair, of all things! But the curls felt soft and interesting when she finally touched them, and if the gentle intake of his breath was any indication, he did not mind her questing fingers at all.
Not at all.
Victoria was still garbed in the night rail that Verbena had hustled her into, after all of the guests had left St. Heath's Row. The faintest sounds of clattering dishes and servants ordering one another about during their effort to clean up did reach her ears, up there in the suite of rooms that belonged to her husband, but Victoria's attention was quite focused elsewhere. In particular, on the hands of her husband, which were industriously unbuttoning the tiny buttons that Verbena had done up a mere fifteen minutes earlier.
She held her breath when the flimsy cotton lawn, trimmed with an abundance of lace and satin that she was certain had gone wholly unappreciated by her new husband, fell away, baring her shoulders and a great deal of her bosom.
And whilst Phillip, the man she loved, carried her to the bed they would share, if she happened to think, ever so briefly, that he was not the first man to see her breasts bared… well, that thought was immediately driven from her mind when he replaced smoothing hands with his lips.
It felt quite delicious, and Victoria was gratified that the pleasant tingle between her legs grew stronger and moister under her husband's ministrations. And that she was feeling his warm skin under her hands and nails as they ruffled the scattering of hair that grew in so many unusual places—on his muscular arms, over the flat expanse of his chest, down a long, thin line that disappeared into his trousers.
He'd left off kissing her breasts to move back up to her mouth and then along the most sensitive area of her neck, where the vampire bite was all but gone. For the first time in her memory, his hair had moved out of place and fell forward on the sides, brushing his sideburns and the edge of his jaw.
Phillip moved back, away and off, and shucked off his breeches. With a covert glance, as if to check her reaction to the bulge thus revealed, he took a bit longer to slip out of his drawers and then stood looking down at her.
Victoria felt hot and trembly all over when she saw the part of him that most obviously wanted her.
He came back toward the bed, where she'd hiked herself up on one elbow to watch him undress. Sprawling next to her, his nakedness lining the length of her night rail, he trailed a hand along her body, from her throat down along between her breasts and into the deep vee from the part of her gown he'd impatiently left buttoned. But not for long.
His fingers deftly slipped the remaining buttons from their loops as he bent forward to kiss her. And then, as his hands brushed over the newly exposed skin, he stopped.
"What… ?" He sat up, away, and pulled the edges of her nightgown aside to expose the soft rounding of her stomach and the glint of silver that lay there. "What is that?"
Of course. She'd realized he'd ask about it. He wouldn't recognize a vis bulla, as Verbena or Sebastian would. But she hadn't expected the expression on his face to be one of such… displeasure.
She'd already decided how to explain it. "A Gardella family tradition," she told him, reaching for the squared-off roundness of his shoulder to pull him back toward her.
He resisted, and though she was strong enough to keep him moving toward her, she released him.
"Why?"
"It's believed to offer a kind of protection. As I said, it is a family tradition that Aunt Eustacia requested I follow. "
"It is… unusual. Does it hurt?" He reached a finger to touch the silver cross.
"No. Not at all. " She flicked the cross and its small hoop to demonstrate.
"I'm not at all certain I like it, or that it's appropriate. "
Victoria stared at him for a moment, then told herself it was her wedding night and she did not want it to be spoiled. "I can take it out for tonight, if it would make you feel better. "
"Feel better? I'm, not certain I agree with your choice of words… but, yes, Victoria, I think I would rather look only at your beautiful body without any adornments. "
"I will be right back, then. " She had no intention of removing the vis bulla and leaving it in his bedchamber to be lost. Pulling on a robe she'd discarded almost as soon as she entered the room, she hurried to her adjoining chamber. In the low light she untwisted the silver ring and slipped it from its mooring at the lip of her navel. When she pulled it out and placed it on her dressing table, she had to sit for a moment. Its absence left her light-headed and clammy, and she found she needed to rest her head on the table for a moment.
She could put the vis bulla back in, in the morning. And perhaps Phillip would grow used to it.
She turned toward the door that joined their bedchambers, and started… for he was standing there, her husband, in all of his naked beauty. Dark hair, heavy blue eyes… lean limbs shadowed with the glow from the candle on her dressing table. Her breath caught for a moment and she felt muzzy-headed again… and this time it was not from the removal of her vis bulla.
"Come here, darling," Phillip said, holding out his hands to her. His shoulders flexed easily in the flickering candlelight. "I hope I did not spoil the mood. " He smiled in a manner that reminded her uncomfortably of Sebastian—a bit wicked, edged with promise… yet there was a tenderness there in his eyes, something she'd never seen in Sebastian's golden ones.
And why was she comparing him to Sebastian? Her husband, on their wedding night? Perhaps it was only normal for one to compare and contrast when confronted with something unfamiliar… and exciting.
She stepped into his arms, glad that he'd come to her and apologized. She felt the warmth of his body, long and textured against hers, and the prod of his erection was gentle against her hip. Her half-donned robe gusted around them, and she slipped it off her shoulders. It collapsed onto t
he floor, pooling at her ankles as her naked breasts pressed against his chest.
Phillip kissed her along the side of her neck, where her skin was the most sensitive, and where the bare brush of his lips made her toes curl and her breasts tighten. Somehow his mouth didn't stop its tasting of her as he brought them to the bed—her bed, not his—and tumbled her onto it.