Gabriel frowned. “Her manner with you is too familiar. I’ve half a mind to dismiss her.”
“Ida is the Genghis Khan of lady’s maids,” Pandora conceded, “but she’s very good at reminding me about things I tend to forget, and finding things I’ve lost.” Her voice echoed slightly as she went into the marble-tiled bathroom. “Also, she told me I was a donkey-headed halfwit if I didn’t marry you.”
“We’ll keep her,” he said decisively. Entering the bathroom, he found Pandora bending over the large porcelain bathtub, fiddling with two sets of spigots and faucets, one silver-plated, the other polished brass.
“Why are there so many of these fixtures?” she asked.
“One set is for freshwater bathing, the other for seawater.”
“Truly? I could take a seawater bath right here?”
“Indeed.” Gabriel grinned at her expression. “Are we a bit less surly about our honeymoon now?”
Pandora gave him a sheepish smile. “Perhaps a little,” she admitted. In the next moment she threw herself at him impulsively, her arms circled around his neck.
Feeling the fine tremors that ran continuously through her slender body, Gabriel held her more firmly, his amusement fading. “Why are you trembling, love?”
Pandora kept her face against his chest. “I’m dreading tonight.”
Of course. She was a bride on her wedding night, facing the prospect of climbing into bed with a man she scarcely knew, with the certainty that there would be pain and embarrassment. A wave of tenderness came over him, but at the same time, disappointment settled like a stack of bricks on his chest. There would likely be no consummation tonight. He would have to be patient. He would resign himself to whatever preliminaries she would allow, and then perhaps in a day or two, she might be willing to—
“I’d rather do it right now,” she said, “so I can stop worrying.”
The statement derailed Gabriel so completely that he couldn’t speak.
“I’m as nervous as a Christmas Eve goose,” Pandora continued. “I won’t be able to eat dinner, or read, or do anything until it’s over with. Even if it turns out to be pure agony, I’d prefer that to waiting.”
His heart leapt in relief and desire, and he let out a controlled breath. “Darling love, it won’t be agony. I promise you’ll enjoy it.” He paused before adding wryly, “Most of it.” Ducking his head, he found a soft place on her throat with his lips, and felt the tight ripple of her swallow. “You liked our midnight rendezvous, didn’t you?” he asked softly. Another swallow, and she nodded. He could feel the effort she was making to relax, to trust him.
He sought her lips, urging them to part with the lightest touches of his tongue. Her response was soft at first, the innocently carnal mouth following his teasing caresses. She relaxed and leaned against him, and he could feel her attention centering on him, all her vitality pouring into him. The hairs at the back of his neck bristled in excitement, while heat danced and rioted in every part of his body. With difficulty, he ended the kiss, cradling her face in his hands, watching her long inky lashes sweep upward to reveal drowsy blue-black eyes.
“Why don’t I send for some champagne?” he suggested. “It will help you to relax.” He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. “And then I want to give you a present.”
Pandora’s dark winged brows drew together. “A literal present?”
Gabriel responded with a puzzled smile. “Yes. How could it be otherwise?”
“I thought ‘give you a present’ might be a metaphor.” Her gaze flicked in the direction of the bedroom. “For that.”
He began to laugh. “I wouldn’t presume to flatter myself quite so extravagantly. You’ll have to inform me later if my lovemaking is a gift or not.” Still chuckling, he bent to press his lips to hers.
He adored her. There was no one like her, and she belonged to him completely . . . although he knew better than to say that out loud.
Any of the awkwardness Pandora might have felt while being undressed by a man was eclipsed by Gabriel’s continuing amusement. He kept breaking out into chuckles until she demanded, “Are you still laughing over your metaphor?”
That set him off again. “It wasn’t a metaphor.”
Although Pandora wanted to point out that most brides would not appreciate their husbands laughing like hyenas while removing their clothing, she was fairly certain that anything she said would only prolong his amusement. She waited until her corset was unhooked, leaving her only in her chemise and drawers, and then she dashed to the bed and plunged beneath the covers. “Gabriel?” she asked, pulling the bedclothes up to her neck. “Instead of champagne . . . may I have a glass of port? Or is that only for gentlemen?”
Her husband came to the bedside and bent to kiss her. “If you like port, my love, that’s what you shall have.”