Page 44 of Venus in Disguise

Narcissa gasped, tilting her head back to regard him in shock. “See the marks?”

Ash nodded. “I want to see what that bastard did to you. I want… to make amends. We’re to be married in the morning,” he reminded her gently. “I’ll be seeing a good deal more of you then, I promise. It’s only a few hours away.”

“I suppose,” she replied, nerves exploding inside her. “W-Well, if you wish to.”

Awkwardly, Narcissa got to her knees and turned her back to him. With shaking hands, she lifted the back of the shirt she wore to expose her thighs, still striped with the evidence of her father’s beating.

She heard his swift intake of breath, followed by a litany of barely audible curses.

“Are they very ugly?” she asked anxiously. “Mrs Fenchurch thought they wouldn’t leave any scars.”

“Lay down,” he said, not answering her for the moment and she could not judge his mood from the cool command.

Uncertainly, Narcissa lay on her front as Ash shifted to kneel beside her. His warm fingers coasted over the backs of her thighs, making her breath catch and a strange tingling sensation begin inside her.

“Does it hurt still?” he asked, his voice somewhat hoarse as he trailed one finger over a long red mark just above her knee.

“Oh, no. Not now,” she assured him, though her mind was reeling from the touch of his hand upon her thigh. Before she could gather her thoughts, however, he had bent and pressed his mouth to the same place, bestowing a soft kiss.

“Poor darling,” he murmured against her skin. “No one shall ever hurt you again, do you hear me? I would murder anyone who tried with my bare hands.”

Narcissa held her breath, too tantalised by the featherlike brush of his lips to speak.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, pressing one kiss after another along the length of the first faded red stripe. “I am so sorry he hurt you, but I shall make it up to you if you will let me. I shall replace the memory of that vile act of cruelty with one of my own making, one where you feel only pleasure.”

His lips crossed from her right thigh to her left, his mouth a delicate touch like the brush of silk, his tongue a diverting swipe of wet warmth that made her shiver, more so as his breath fluttered over it, sending chills of delight climbing up her spine.

“Should you like that?”

Narcissa was so dazed it took her a moment to realise she was being addressed. Only the fact that the delicious touch had paused brought her to her senses.

“Yes. Please don’t stop,” she told him, sighing and burying her face in the counterpane as he worked his way higher, his hands and mouth making her shiver and gasp. When he got to the top of her thighs and nuzzled the curve of her bottom, Narcissa made a muffled sound, torn between wonder at how lovely it felt, and sheer mortification. Before she could utter a sound of protest, however, he had flipped up the long tail of the shirt to expose her backside.

“He’s lucky there is not a mark here,” he growled, his voice dark. “Or I should have murdered him, regardless of the consequences. To mar something of such exquisite beauty would be unbearable.”

Narcissa gasped as his warm hands caressed her, gently moulding the plump mounds of her backside as her bones seemed to lose their structure, turning molten and languid under the warm slide of his hands.

Ash bent, pressing a kiss to first one cheek, then the other. “So beautiful,” he said, the words a soft fluttering of warmth over her skin.

“Are you tired, love? Do you wish to sleep?”

“Sleep?” Narcissa exclaimed, looking over her shoulder at him in outrage. “You expect me to sleep now?”

There was a wicked glint in his eyes as his mouth quirked. “No, I expect you to demand I make love to you, but one does not like to act like a conscienceless devil. You have been through an ordeal, and I ought to allow you to rest, as Mrs Fenchurch pointed out. The fact that I have no desire to let you is another matter. I shall accede to your wishes, however.”

“Then don’t stop!” she replied tartly.

Ash grinned at her. “As my lady commands.”

With a huff, Narcissa resumed her position on the bed, her face hidden under her tumbled gold curls. Ash’s hands pushed the shirt she wore up and up until it bunched around her shoulders.

“Lift up,” he told her.

Narcissa did as he asked, allowing him to strip the shirt from her and cast it aside, shivering as the cool air caressed her naked body. Burrowing back into the counterpane, she did not look at him, not ready to face him yet. His palm slid under her unbound hair, resting on the back of her neck. Slowly, he stroked it down her spine.

“So tense,” he murmured. “Something must be done. You will never rest properly when you are in such a knot.”

Narcissa squeaked in surprise as he moved, straddling her thighs, the cool material of the banyan pooling over her. Ash reached up, settling his hands on her shoulders and squeezing gently but firmly.