The Crimson Gown

Chapter Eight

Lydia's skin glowed in oranges and reds, the colours and shadows shifting in time with the flickering of the light from the fire. Her corset already lay on the floor beside the bed, and she raised her arms, the rush of cool air causing her to shiver as Lord Cailvairt gathered the edges of her slip in his hands and pulled it up and over her head.

He stood before her, the last of her clothing still hanging from his fingers, while his gaze seemed to devour the sight of her. She experienced no urge to cover herself, and when he raised his free hand to her breast, she inhaled sharply, causing her chest to rise and push itself towards him.

He stroked his thumb across her nipple until it peaked and hardened beneath his touch. She watched everything he did, mesmerised by his movements and his fascination with her body. Once more, his thumb grazed across the tip of her breast, and then he bent down, his mouth closing around where his fingers had just teased, his tongue and his teeth pulling gently until she bit back on a cry.

Her hands found the edge of the mattress, the covers drawn into her grip as his mouth moved to her other breast. His fingers trailed down along her sides, over her ribcage, the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips, before his palm settled on her thigh. She felt every touch, every breath, as if her senses had been heightened. Even the flutter of his eyelashes across her skin was enough to garner her attention, her gaze drawn from his hands to his dark head as he abandoned her breasts and descended lower.

"Wait." The word slipped out, a whisper of sound between breaths. He looked up at her, his eyes seeming to pull the illumination from the room into their icy depths.

"What is it?" One of his hands remained on her thigh, while the other moved over her arm, along her shoulder and further still until his palm cupped her cheek. "Would you have me stop?"

She shook her head. Her gaze broke from his long enough to take in his clothing, all still in place and impeccable. "I want..." She swallowed and fought down the flood of warmth and colour that suffused her face. "I want to see you." Her gaze dipped down to his shirt before returning to his eyes. "All of you."

A chill rushed over her at the departure of his hands from her skin. He began with his neckcloth, making quick work of the folds before he tugged it free from his collar and tossed it to the floor. He did not smile, or attempt to make light of her request. He set to the task of disrobing with all gravity and seriousness, his coat following his neckcloth, and then his vest, the silver buttons winking at her as his fingers unfastened each one.

He worked his shirt free from his breeches and quickly pulled it off. Lydia allowed her gaze to linger on his bare chest, before it traced the line of his shoulders, and then down again to the clefts and planes of his abdomen. He was long and lean, but well muscled where he was meant to be. She wanted to touch him, to place her hands on his skin and know if it was cool or warm, or if he would gasp at the mere caress of her fingertips. But she remained where she was, holding onto the edge of the bed, too shy and too afraid to do more than stifle a gasp as he began to tug at the fastenings of his breeches.

She would not close her eyes. She told herself this. She would look at him, if she could not bring herself to touch him, and she would not quail or become suddenly missish at the sight of an undressed man.

He divested himself of breeches, shoes, and hose, and then he stood there, the light creating the same hypnotic dance of warmth and shadow on his naked skin.

"Lydia."

At the sound of her name, her gaze returned to his face. His eyes continued to shine, even though only one side of him was turned towards the fire.

"Are you frightened?"

She did not know. Her heart beat quickly, and it seemed she could not draw enough air into her lungs to keep from feeling light-headed. But she doubted it was fear that tempted her to glance down at his cock, that made her want to reach out and grasp his hips, to pull him towards her again.