My Cynical Marquess ~ Lords of Reluctance Book 1

Chapter Twenty

Grace's first sensation on waking the next morning was an unaccustomed feeling of warmth and security. Her second was the welcome realisation that her husband still cradled her in his strong embrace. She lifted her head off his shoulder, only to find him awake and looking at her with such tenderness and love that she almost forgot how to breathe. Unbidden, her left hand began to stroke his bare chest, toying with the smattering of dark curls that so fascinated her the previous night.

"You are still here!" she said sleepily. She reached up and ran her fingers down his cheek, almost to see if he was there or was just a figment of her imagination.

Nicholas gave a bark of laughter. "Of course I am, my love. Where else would I be?" he said. He leant down and kissed her, his hand cupping her head and his thumb slowly rubbing her cheek.

Grace blushed and rested her chin on his chest. "I thought you might have gone back to your chambers," she explained, smiling.

Nicholas stared down her and wondered how he had ever survived before meeting this remarkable woman. He shook his head. "Now, why would I want to do that? I would rather your beautiful face be the first I see in the morning. You are far more attractive than my valet." He smiled down at her, recalling every one of her responses to his touch during the night. She did not disappoint him, her passions slowly building from smouldering embers until igniting into a blazing inferno.

"What time is it?" Grace asked, frowning. She turned and looked toward the window, seeing only a glimmer of sunlight through the drawn drapes.

"It is still early, but I suggest we begin thinking about preparing ourselves for the journey to London," Nicholas replied indolently. Although, he did not appear to want to shift from his position for the rest of the day and possibly well into the night.

Grace stifled a yawn and pushed herself up to a sitting position, the crisp, white sheet dropping down to her lap. Too late, she realised she was not wearing her nightgown, or anything else for that matter. She hastily clasped the sheet, pulling it up and clutching it to her breasts like a lifeline.

Nicholas watched her with some amusement. With a considerable amount of effort, he raised himself up, slipped his arm around her waist, and pulled her against his chest. A delightful shade of pink materialised on her cheeks and travelled down her neck to disappear underneath the sheet. "It is a little bit too late to act shy in front of me you know," he murmured into her neck. He placed the lightest of butterfly kisses just beneath her ear. "Besides, you were far from shy last eve."

Still under the spell of the wondrous feelings her husband was evoking, Grace leaned against that marvellous masculine chest. "I do not understand how wives consider what we did last night to be a marital duty. I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I never knew the human body was capable of such pleasure," Grace murmured without thinking. A rumble of laughter brought her back to her senses. "Oh, good grief, I do not know what possessed me to say such a thing."

Nicholas smiled, turning her head and kissing her with a thoroughness she found entrancing. "Never apologise for telling me what you think. It is what I love about you. But there is one thing I wish to know. How do you know about what husbands do with their wives and whether they enjoy it or not?" he asked. He gave her a frown, though his eyes twinkled with merriment.

Grace laughed. "When one lives in the country, one cannot help but hear certain things. Things that a gently bred lady should not hear, I gather. Besides, Aunt Eleanor and Aunt Harriet spoke to me before the wedding on what I was to expect. In the absence of my mother, I suppose." She turned and kissed him on the cheek, running her hand down his chest. "I guess they did not count on my husband being so gentle and caring."