“Honestly? ’Tis a very generous offer. I would be delighted.”

He shrugged. “Well, if it’s dreadful, we can always hang it in the kitchen.”

“You will do no such thing, sir. Emma will produce a beautiful portrait, one that you will be proud to display beside these ancestral portraits done by some of the art world’s greatest masters,” Dorothea insisted, fully believing in Emma’s work.

“Her task shall be made far easier with such a beautiful female as her subject.”

He regarded her through hooded eyes, saying nothing else. She took a bite of her chicken and slowly chewed, barely tasting it. “You’re making me nervous,” she finally blurted out.

“I am?” He began drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. “How?”

“You are silent. And staring very intently.”

“’Tis a husband’s prerogative to appreciate his wife’s beauty and grace.”

A flood of deep color entered Dorothea’s face. She did not like the way he said the word wife. As if she were his possession, his property. Flustered, she picked up her wine goblet and took a large gulp. The sharp, pungent, full-bodied flavor rolled over her tongue, warming her body as it glided down her throat.

“I find that I am quite full. Shall we ask for dessert to be served?” she inquired after setting her nearly empty goblet back on the white linen cloth.

He leaned in very close. “You are the only sweet I want on this night, my dear. Shall we?”

He extended his hand. Dorothea glanced down at it, for a moment feeling vaguely lost.

“I thought it might be easier if we started out together,” he added. “Unless you prefer to go to your chambers and wait for me there?”

“Like some medieval sacrificial virgin awaiting her lord and master,” Dorothea muttered.

“Lord and master?” Carter laughed. “Oh, my dear, ’tis comments like that which make me very glad we are married.”

Still smiling, he stood, walked around to her chair, then leaned down and whispered in her ear, so none of the footmen could hear him. “I believe it is time for us to retire.”

Obediently, Dorothea rose from her chair. He caught her hand and led her purposefully from the dining room. The blush that started in Dorothea’s cheeks quickly spread to her neck as they casually sauntered past what seemed like an army of footmen, all completely aware of where Lord Atwood was taking his bride and what he planned to do with her.

She had never before felt so uncertain. If only she knew more about what was to come! Yes, she understood the biology of it all, but the particulars of how it was done, how it all felt, eluded her completely. Dorothea clasped her free hand to her stomach and glanced at the flickering wall sconces as if searching for answers in their glowing warmth.

Finally, Carter stopped in front of a solid oak door. She thought her chambers were also located in this section of the house, but her nerves had stolen her sense of direction and she realized she could be anywhere in the mansion.

With a mysterious smile, he opened the door, walked over the threshold, then gently tugged her inside.

It was the largest, most opulent bedchamber Dorothea had ever seen, dominated in the center by an enormous canopied bed. The four mahogany posters at the corners rose majestically skyward, yet barely reached the intricately painted ceiling. The bed was draped in royal blue velvet, with a matching brocade spread that was invitingly turned down.

The window drapes were the same shade of blue, embroidered with gold threads that gave them a shimmering, luxurious sheen. They were drawn shut to prevent the morning light from disturbing his lordship’s slumber.

The furniture was a mix of dark and lighter woods, each design masculine and functional. She thought the room suited him with its mix of elegant strength and masculine beauty.

Her feet felt rooted to the floor, but she forced herself to turn and face him. Instantly she felt caught in his mesmerizing stare. She couldn’t blink, was unable to look away, captured in his sensual spell.

He tipped her chin with one hand. There was a spark of intensity in his eyes that stole any words from Dorothea’s mind. He was staring at her with the heat and desire of a man in need, his breathing harsh while hers bellowed in rapid response.

She waited almost breathlessly for the kiss that she knew would be forthcoming. Carter’s lips sank into hers and a warm, liquid rush of pleasure cascaded over her entire body. Dorothea lifted her hand and closed it around his raised arm in an attempt to steady herself.

He ended the kiss and pulled away, bestowing upon her a grin so wicked, so sexy, her knees quivered. Then he reached behind his back with his free hand and Dorothea heard the lock click into place. A wicked sigh shivered through her.

They were completely alone.

Chapter Eleven

Dorothea tried not to look apprehensive. She took a few steps into the room, then paused. The large bed loomed directly in front, a stark reminder of what was to come, what she felt so suddenly unprepared to face.

Silently Carter pulled off his jacket, yanked his neck cloth free, unbuttoned his waistcoat, and tossed the garments haphazardly on a chair. He removed his clothes with an economy of motion and grace Dorothea envied, knowing she would look like a clumsy contortionist if she tried to struggle out of her gown herself.

He regarded her warily and she could only imagine how her odd thoughts appeared to him, reflected on her face. Annoyed with herself for showing so little fortitude, she glanced away. This was her wedding night, not a tooth extraction. She had wanted to experience this intimacy for a long time and had been privileged to choose this man as her partner. Such a skittish, hesitant reaction was ridiculous.

Tightening her jaw for strength, Dorothea lifted her chin. Wearing only an open shirt and black satin knee breeches, her bridegroom was a formidable figure. Dorothea could see the swirls of dark hair that covered the upper muscles of his chest peeking through the white linen. He was tall and powerful, broad and masculine, so incredibly…male. Her mouth went dry.

They stared at each other, exchanging thoughts and emotions without saying a word. Outwardly, she knew she looked calm and curious. Inside, Dorothea felt like screaming.

She forced herself to speak. “My lord.”

“My lady?”

His expression alarmed her. He appeared to be exerting a tremendous amount of control, looking for all the world as if he wanted to pounce on her. And eat her alive. Dorothea shivered.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“No.”

“Afraid?”

“Nervous,” she clarified. “I want very much to please you, my lord.”

“Carter,” he whispered. “I believe the intimacy that we are about to enjoy dictates more informal terms. Don’t you agree, Dorothea?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Now, the first thing we need to do is get you more comfortable.”

Before she could question precisely what he meant, Carter reached out and began removing the pins from her hair. The silky tresses fell across her back and shoulders, a showering golden mane. He stroked it softly, almost reverently, as if he were fascinated by the texture of the silken threads.

His large hands were gentle, the rhythmic caresses hypnotic. Dorothea felt her eyes slowly close as her body began to relax. But the languid feeling abruptly disappeared when he moved his hand forward to cup her breast. Her startled gasp echoed through the chamber as a bolt of sensation flashed between her legs.

“We’ll go slowly,” he promised. “’Tis better that way.” She swayed into him and he laughed, a short bark of mirth. “That is to say, as slow as I can manage. You are an extraordinary temptation, my dear.”

She felt her confidence soar, knowing he found her attractive, desirable. After his odd behavior this afternoon, it was the reaffirmation she needed, the assurance she craved. Dorothea reached up and ran the edge of her finger along his jaw. The surface was smooth, yet when she reversed the direction of her hand she could feel the rough edge of his whiskers. It was a strangely erotic sensation.

He put his mouth to hers, nibbling her lower lip until she willingly opened to him. Relaxing, Dorothea curled her tongue against his. She adored his kisses. Her hands came up to cling to his broad shoulders as the familiar excitement flared deep in her belly, making her feel hot all over.

His kisses moved from her mouth to her cheek, then drifted down the column of the neck. His light, teasing touch made her breath catch, her skin tingle.

He drew down her bodice, then tugged down the edge of her lace chemise to bare her breasts. Dorothea inhaled a sharp gasp, which Carter ignored.

She could feel his warm breath against her bare flesh. With light, soft flicks of his tongue, he headed toward her nipple. It tightened and rose to greet him as he drew closer, but he circled around it, nipping playfully with his teeth and lips.

Mindlessly, Dorothea reached up to clutch his head, lacing her fingers in his hair, pressing him closer.

“You are very sensitive, very responsive,” he murmured just before he took the fullness of her breast into his mouth.

“Oh, my,” she cried out in a shaky whimper.

Heat speared through her limbs and she moved her legs restlessly, urgently. His sharp tongue laved her nipple, then suckled deeply. Desire burned through her, shattering her thoughts, rendering her incapable of thinking or feeling anything but this extraordinary hunger.

“Too many clothes,” he rasped.

His hands reached around her shoulders to the middle of her back, working furiously at the various fastenings. The gown gaped forward and he tugged on it, forcing it away from her body. She next felt his hand reach under her hem. He ran his fingers possessively over the top of her stocking, smoothing the skin of her bare thighs. He rolled the delicate silk downward, kneeling before her as he held her ankle and pulled the fabric free.