Upon A Midnight Dream (London Fairy Tales #1)(43)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

Stefan shook the thought away. No sense worrying over what he could not fix, then again he did have a surprise in store for her tonight. Yes, tonight had been hard for him to arrange considering both of their houses were filled with the mad and sick because of the curse.

Like a nervous school-boy, he helped Rosalind into the carriage. It came to his large home but instead of stopping up front, it went around to the back of the house.

"Where are we going? The servants’ entrance?" Rosalind winked and Stefan nearly lost his nerve.

"You’ll see." He patted her hand and watched in fascination as his bride’s eyes took in the scene around him. Daylight had given way to twilight. The sky was starting to scatter with stars, and he could not help but smile to himself. He wasn’t the most romantic man in the world, and he knew Rosalind’s only view of him was a barbaric, but he wasn’t the selfish sort of lover that most men were. No, he wanted to take his time with Rosalind. If he failed to woo her during their courtship, he would damn well woo her during their lovemaking, until she was marked as his.

The carriage pulled to a stop, he could have sworn his hands were sweating in his gloves as he held out his hand for Rosalind. With a curious smile, she followed him through the back of the property.

"A cottage?" Rosalind’s eyes widened, and selfishly he hoped it was in pure shock at the expanse of décor.

The cottage was covered in snow, but the trail leading up was scattered with red rose petals.

"For my Briar Rose, the fairest of the fair…" he whispered in her ear. "Shall we?"

Rosalind’s laughter echoed off the enchanted path, "Briar Rose hmm? Am I then a thorn within the rose?"

Stefan stopped in his tracks and pulled her body flush against his. "No, my duchess. I would gladly prick my finger on your thorn if the result would be merely to gaze upon your face for the remainder of my days."

Her eyes pooled with unshed tears, but she turned and followed the rose drizzled path until they reached the door, not once responding to his speech.

"It’s beautiful." Tears freely fell down Rosalind’s porcelain skin as her eyes settled on the open door. A roaring fire and a picnic of fairy cakes lay in wait on the table. The massive bed in the middle of the room had its fair share of rose petals. The smell was intoxicating. Stefan had said to spare no expense when he gave instructions to Rosalind’s mother. A moment of weakness or a moment of kindness — he wasn’t certain which, but her mother had asked if she could prepare something special for the couple, and he had allowed it. On one condition. She must do it on his terms.

He wanted it to be perfect. And it was.

"Rose?"

Turning towards him, the new duchess smiled, igniting the passion Stefan had been carefully keeping at bay for the past few days. "I was wrong."

Stefan laughed, unable to help the jolly sound resounding from his belly. "Oh, those words sound so beautiful from your lips m’dear. Care to explain?" His hands fell to her soft skin on their own accord as he brought her lips closer to his own.

Rosalind leaned in and kissed him lightly on the mouth. Oh madness, take him now! He was so on fire for her; surely his body would burn up before he was able to take her the way he wanted.

"You," she said again drawing his attention back to conversation. "Are able to be romantic."

"Yes well," Stefan stuttered unable to focus on anything but her lips. "I did write a sonnet just in case the roses didn’t work."

"Oh, did you now?" Rosalind laughed.

"Yes, and I must admit I had Samson waiting in the back tied to a tree in case you needed more convincing. He can, at times, be very persuasive."

"Not unlike his master." Rosalind’s eyes glanced at his lips and back into his eyes.

"Not at all like his master, Rosalind. Not at all…" His lips crushed hers forcefully and with a hunger he’d never experienced until that night. With a growl, he had her in his arms pressed against the same door they had just entered.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey.

~ Lord Byron ~

Rosalind couldn’t remember a time when she had felt so many emotions at once. As Stefan’s body pressed tighter against her, his arousal and passion evident. She could do nothing to stop the surge of joy that escaped her lips, nor the brazen ideas her body had.

Her mind told her she was doing this for the curse, that she merely needed to consummate the marriage and be done with the whole ordeal.

Her heart, however, was having a hard time believing that sound logic. It cried out for Stefan’s heart and soul in a way more dangerous than she ever thought possible. For she knew the moment this fairy tale was over, the ending would be nothing but heartache. For every happy ending in existence spoke of love — not curses.

Soft yet powerful lips nibbled her neck. Strong masculine hands tangled in her hair. Dizzy with excitement, she didn’t even realize Stefan had stopped kissing her until the warmth of his body left her.

Opening her eyes, she scanned the room. He was on the other side pouring a glass of wine.

"I promised I would woo you, and I will if it nearly kills me." Stefan said.

"But," Rosalind looked around the room. "We’re already married, the wooing is done." She fought to keep her mind from focusing on such a tragic thought.

With a laugh, Stefan brought the cup to his lips, but did not drink, instead he placed his goblet next to the bed. "I have much to teach you, my dear. For the wooing has just begun. I pity the man that believes a courtship must die with marriage."

Chills ran up and down Rosalind’s body as her shaky hand reached out to grab the wine he held out for her. "So tonight…" She couldn’t finish the sentence.

"Tonight…" Stefan raised his glass in a toast. "Is just the beginning."

Forgoing her wine, Rosalind reached out and skimmed her fingers lightly over Stefan’s broad chest. A low groan rumbled in his throat as he hastily threw the wine glass to the floor, shattering it before his arms reached out and grabbed Rosalind by the elbows, pulling her into his frame. Trapped by his embrace, Rosalind was unable to move away as he closed his eyes.

His breath fanned across her lips as he leaned down and merely breathed in her scent. Allowed his lips to roam down her neck, no kissing, no nibbling, almost as if he wanted his mouth to memorize the way her skin felt merely pressed against them.

Stefan’s warm hands slowly moved from her elbows up to her shoulders and slowly, delicately pulled down the loose sleeved dress, causing her shoulders to be bare. A chill ran up and down her spine as she watched in fascination as Stefan’s hands continued their torturous exploration and caress of her smooth skin. The temptation to moan was so extreme, she didn’t know if she could stay silent. Yet, the man was only touching her. Nothing more; nothing less. The very thought that he had so much control and power over her left her feeling vulnerable. Deciding to take things into her own hands, she smoothly put her hands across his and slid them up his arms noticing his muscles flex beneath the curve of her fingers. Fear numbed her fingers making it difficult for her to do much else but touch him.