Her heart was thundering, but somehow, inexplicably, Gemma felt no need to hide. She wanted him to see her, she realized. Wanted him to look at her with that gaze full of desire.
His lips parted and he took a step toward her. “Gemma,” he breathed. “You are perfect. Utterly perfect.” He kissed her again, this time reaching up to divulge himself of his cravat and waistcoat. Gemma gripped the hem of his shirt and tugged it up over his head.
Wyatt kicked off his boots, then stepped out of his breeches. Gemma drew in a breath as she took in her husband's body. He towered over her, the muscles in his broad chest and shoulders visible even in the dim candlelight. Her fingers twitched, feeling the need to touch, but feeling too shy to do so.
As though reading her thoughts, Wyatt lifted her hand and brought it to his bare chest. He stood motionless, as Gemma trailed her fingers through the sparse curls of hair. Down over his stomach. Stopping inches from his manhood, which made no secret of how much he desired her. He let out a harsh breath, his eyes dark with need.
Wyatt took her hand and led her to the bed. He eased her gently onto the mattress and held himself over her. His lips began to work over her bare chest again, and Gemma felt the ache between her legs flare back to life. Instinctively, she reached an arm around Wyatt's body, needing him closer.
Wyatt leaned his forehead against hers, his breath hard and fast against her cheek. His manhood nudged at her opening, drawing a deep groan from her. She let out her breath and arched her hips upwards, desperately needing to feel him inside her. “It may hurt a little the first time,” he murmured gently. “Just try and relax.”
The thought of relaxing when she was so aflame with need felt almost impossible, but Gemma tried to pull in a long breath. As she released it, she felt her husband slide inside her.
A sudden sharp pain jolted her, and she felt her body tense. Wyatt stilled inside her, smoothing her hair gently. “Breathe,” he whispered.
And as Gemma drew in another long breath, she felt the pain give way to a completely different sensation. One that seemed to bloom somewhere unplaceable and engulf her entire body. She closed her eyes and dug her fingers into Wyatt's shoulder.
“All right?” he murmured, and she responded with a low moan of pleasure.
“Yes,” she managed breathlessly.
Wyatt kissed her deeply, then slowly began to move inside her. As Gemma's hands slid over his back and arms, she could feel the tension in his muscles. She could tell how much he was trying to hold himself back, doing his best not to hurt her and could feel how difficult he was finding it to be so restrained. Unbidden, a rush of affection for him engulfed her.
“More,” she whispered. Another groan escaped him; almost a sound of relief at the instruction. He began to quicken the speed with which he moved inside her, lacing his fingers through hers and holding them hard above her head. Gemma felt her hipsmove with his, felt herself surrender to the feel of his body against her own. And for a dizzying, blissful moment, everything that had passed between them no longer mattered. His mocking comments, her coldness, the shame he had sought to bring to her at the Henfords' party; of what consequence was any of that when they could make each other feel like this?
Wyatt let out a loud groan as he reached his climax and Gemma wrapped her legs around him, holding him close, letting her own pleasure flood over her. She closed her eyes as their breathing slowed, clinging to him hard.
Finally, Wyatt slid out of her and rolled over to lie beside her. He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. And almost as instinctively as she had reached for him earlier, Gemma found herself pulling her hand from his.
Yes, she had capitulated. Yes, she had given in to her desires. And now there was every chance she might find herself carrying the Duke of Larsen's heir.
She did not regret it. How could she, when the experience had brought her such blissful and dizzying sensations? But now that that pleasure was over, she felt an acute need to put space back between them. The thoughts of affection she had had just moments ago suddenly felt foolish, and as though they belonged in someone else's head.
Gemma forced herself to shift on the mattress, putting space between them. A reminder to both him and her that they had been forced into this marriage, and for that reason, they could never allow themselves to give in completely to their desires. And more than anything, she could never allow this attraction they clearly felt to one another to become anything more than a physical thing.
Giving her body to her husband was one matter. Giving him her heart was quite another.
Chapter Eighteen
Wyatt lay on his back looking up at a view he had never imagined he would see—the curtains above his wife's bed. He felt blissfully spent and sated. And more than a little relieved.
Because, just as he had suspected, Gemma had just proven that, beneath that icy shell, her heart beat just as hot and fiercely as his.
He had hardly been able to believe it when he had come home to find her seeking out that forbidden book. He had always had an inkling that there was more to Gemma than the cool façade she hid behind. Seeing his suspicions confirmed had brought him no small amount of joy. And when she had agreed to let him play out that racy scene, well…
He turned his head to look at her. She too was lying on her back, staring up at the bed canopy. In the dancing lamplight, he could see her cheeks were flushed and rosy after their adventures, her chest still rising and falling hard beneath the sheets. Her long hair had come loose from its plait and now lay strewn across thepillow like dark silk. Disheveled and tired, she looked impossibly beautiful.
Nonetheless, Wyatt had not been able to miss the way she had so quickly released her hold on him once the deed had been done. Now she lay with her hands folded over her chest, as though in a gesture of self-preservation. He wondered if she regretted what they had done.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She turned, giving him a smile that, while tiny, did look genuine. “Yes. I… I enjoyed that, thank you.”
In spite of himself, Wyatt just managed to hold back a laugh. She might have allowed herself to become Captain Midnight's captive for a brief time, but fine upstanding Lady Gemma was very much still in attendance. In any case, her uninhibited moans had left him in no doubt about how much she had enjoyed their night together. “I am glad,” he said. “I enjoyed it too. Very much.”
Gemma sat up suddenly, clutching the bedclothes to her chest. “The book,” she said.
“What?”
