She could not tear her eyes away from his body, the broad expanse of his chest, the muscular sleekness of his hips and thighs, his proud manhood. He took her by the shoulders and drew her close. His body was warm, firm. All hard planes to her soft curves. He placed a warm, demanding kiss on her lips.
Jessica felt the coiled desire in him. The heat from his body matched her own. His hard thighs pressed against hers. His manhood throbbed along her hip.
“You are a witch, Jessica,” he whispered against her mouth. “I want you so badly, I ache.”
“Make me your wife,” she whispered back, as her arms tightened around him. “Make love to me.”
In one smooth movement, he scooped her up and placed her gently on the bed. He ran his hand the length of her body, from her shoulder, over her breast, to her slightly mounded belly, to the wellspring of her womanhood. His fingers caressed there.
Jessica shuddered and moaned. As he stretched out beside her, she ran her hands over his body. His breath rasped in his throat as he played in that tender spot between her thighs. She arched toward him as she writhed in her passion. Her body clenched and spasmed in delicious waves. When they receded, she saw him grinning at her with male pride.
“Your turn, Your Grace,” she said as she reached for him. She wanted to pleasure him like he had pleasured her.
He groaned at her touch. “I need you now, Witch,” he growled.
He pulled her on top of him and positioned her gently as he entered her. Her eyes opened in surprise and delight at the wonderful sensations he created. He began to move, and she caught his rhythm. They moved as one until a wild burst went surging through them both. She felt as if her world were coming to a spectacular end, that her life’s energy was reaching an apex and then being sucked out of her. With a tiny sigh, she collapsed on top of him. Her world came slowly back into focus.
They lay quietly together, gathering their strength after the storm. She rested her head on his shoulder. He kept his arm about her and held her close.
Shyly, she circled a spot in the middle of his chest. “I love you,” she whispered.
He became absolutely still, then with disbelief he asked, “What did you say?”
Jessica smiled up at him. “I said, I love you.”
Damien gathered her close and buried his face in her hair. “God’s blood,” he whispered. “I never thought I would hear you say that. I’ve treated you so badly. I think I have loved you from the first time I saw you at Madame’s, but I was too stupid to realize it or too arrogant to admit it.” He paused, struggling with some deep emotion. “I worshiped my older brother. I wanted to be like him. He was charming, handsome, and everything he did seemed so effortless. He had a line-up of Papas with marriageable daughters asking about joining their family to ours. He could have been happily settled with several heirs by now. Instead, he became obsessed with Margaret, another man’s wife. I could have shot him myself, I was so angry with him. And then he was challenged to a duel by your father. I begged him not to go. He laughed and said no one could best him at shooting.” Damien shook his head. “I realized how shallow and foolish he was. When he died, I was furious at him, but even more furious with myself.”
Jessica leaned back in his arms. She touched his cheek with her fingertips and gazed lovingly into those striking green eyes.
“Damien, I’m so sorry,” she said in a husky voice as she hugged him.
“You have saved me, Jessica,” he murmured as he brushed a curl from her forehead. “I was so blind.”
Jessica took his hand and kissed his palm. Then she grinned impishly. “You were never blind. You were always ogling me.”
Damien raised a brow. “How could I not help but stare when you always wore those clinging, low-cut gowns to Madame’s? My imagination would run wild as I thought of all the things I could do if you were wearing nothing at all.”
Jessica smiled an invitation. “I’m not wearing anything at all now.”
He ran his hand down her back as if feeling for something. “Hmm. You’re right.” He grinned. “I guess my imagination doesn’t have to work so hard, now. Shall we see what my imagination can come up with?”
“Mm,” she purred. Her eyes traveled down his body. “It looks like your imagination has come up with something very useful.”
Damien chuckled as he lowered his mouth to hers. He was hers now. Completely. No one would ever take her away from him again.
Chapter 23
The days passed quickly for Jessica. The summer months were pleasant ones, for she was happier than she had ever been. She and Damien spent hours together riding in his curricle, walking hand in hand through his estate, talking about everything, frolicking like two children, or just sitting together in companionable silence. Damien had completely changed, as if a burden had lifted from his heart. He was caring and attentive, and Jessica found herself falling more deeply in love with him.
There was only one dark smudge on this bright picture. The letters from Jason were becoming fewer, and his tone was different. She could not point to something specific. But she knew something was wrong. She discussed her worries with Damien. He told her again, though in much gentler tones than the last time, that there was nothing he could do for the boy. Margaret was Jason’s legal guardian.
Jessica stood facing her husband now, as frustration formed lines between her brows.
“Well, why don’t we abduct him?” she demanded. “I know he would be much happier here with us.”
Damien smiled. “I’m sure he would, but we can’t just ride out to Braeleigh and take the boy. Don’t you think Margaret would come after him? If she did, she would have the legal right to take him back. The law frowns on kidnapping.”
Jessica walked aimlessly around the room in her frustration. Clasping her hands before her, she stared out upon the lawn.
“You are right, of course,” she reluctantly agreed. “I may never see him again.” She was on the verge of tears. “I’m afraid Margaret will change him into a cruel monster, who’ll care only for himself and his money and nothing of others.”
Damien came up behind her and turned her around to face him. He enfolded her in his arms and held her tightly.
“There is one way that we could force Margaret to give him up,” he said thoughtfully. “I might be able to have her declared unfit to be your brother’s guardian and have you named in her place.”
Hope returned to her. “Do you really think you could?”
He brushed his lips across her brow. “I can’t promise that it will happen. It will take a long time. All I can do right now is make some inquiries and get the legal work started.”
“But at least that would be something,” she said.
“I will have to travel to London,” he said. “I will be gone almost a week.”
“Oh.” Disappointment made her shoulders droop. “You mean I can’t go with you?”
Damien shook his head. “There is nothing I would like more than to have you with me, my love, but it would not be healthy for you to be in the city right now, not while you’re carrying our child. You will be much more comfortable here, where it is cooler. You’re too precious to me. I don’t want anything happening to you.”
Reluctantly, Jessica nodded her agreement.
Damien gave her a small squeeze and held her to him. “Don’t be sad, love. I’ll try not to be gone too long.” He tilted her chin up with a gentle finger. “I will miss you very much.”
The following morning, Jessica stood beside him in the early morning mist as he sat on his horse. She rested her hand upon his knee and gazed up at him.
“Hurry home, Damien,” she said, her voice husky from unshed tears. “I shall miss you terribly.”
Damien leaned down and kissed her tenderly. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
He straightened and touched her cheek, then wheeling h
is horse, cantered down the drive. Jessica watched as long as he was in sight, then, sighing, she went into the house. She missed him already.
Five days after Damien’s departure, she was sitting in the morning room and embroidering a tiny jacket for the baby. She was restless, and she could not get the stitches even and straight. With a sigh of frustration, she threw the jacket down on the settee beside her and wandered about the room. Stopping before the window, she noted the clouds gathering. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance.
It would be two days, at least, before Damien’s return, and that did not lighten her spirits any. She had kept busy, and had done reasonably well in fighting off the loneliness while he had been gone. That morning, she had awakened with an uneasy feeling, but had decided it was only because she had not slept well. The babe’s activity had kept her awake during the night.
A light tap came at the door, heralding the entrance of Hobbs. She turned, wondering what problem he had encountered that he could not handle.
“Excuse me, Your Grace,” he began. “A letter was delivered for you.” He held out a silver tray which held a rumpled, stained envelope.
Thinking it might be from Damien, she swept up the letter and opened it. She read:
Dear Jess,
This will be my last letter to you. I do not know if you received all the others, for Margaret always took them from me to post. Sometimes, she even told me what to write. I asked Dudley, the dairyman, to post this for me so that I would be sure that you received it. Margaret is sending me away to America with her uncle. She says I should see the land that I own there. I do not believe her. I think she does not want me around anymore. We are supposed to be leaving in a fortnight. I tried to run away, but she managed to catch me. She told me the next time I try, she will lock me in the attic. Please, do not let her send me to America, Jess. I am so afraid.
Your loving brother,
Jason
P.S. I will understand if you cannot help.
Jessica sank down onto a chair. Despair covered her like a shroud. How could Margaret send a young boy to America? What about his schooling? What about Braeleigh? Jessica knew the answer to that last question. Margaret wanted Braeleigh for herself. Jessica became thoughtful as an idea began to form.
She rang for Hobbs, and when he appeared, she said, “Hobbs, I am traveling to Braeleigh. Prepare the coach for me.”
Hobbs looked surprised at her request, but he said evenly, “Very well, Your Grace. Will there be anything else?”
“No. Yes. I will want strong footmen, men who will not mind a fight.”
Hobbs bowed and disappeared to do her bidding. Then Jessica went to find Donny and change her clothes for travel.
As Donny helped Jessica change, the little woman scolded, “Ye be crazy t’go there with that woman about. Ye ought t’wait for His Grace t’come back. He’ll take care of it for ye.”
“I can’t wait, Donny,” Jessica said. “Jason’s letter said they were leaving in a fortnight, and Margaret might change her mind and send him away earlier. I have already waited too long.” Affectionately, she put her hand on the woman’s arm. “I have to go, Donny. Jason is my brother. Damien is not here, so I’m the only one who can save him from that woman.”
Donny merely grunted her disapproval.
Later, when Jessica climbed into the carriage, she found Donny already seated inside. A mischievous smile curved her lips, but she said nothing to her nanny.
Donny grumbled, “Well, ye didn’t think I would let ye go into that woman’s lair alone, did ye?”
The driver cracked his whip, and they started off. The ride to Braeleigh would take them most of the day. They would not arrive until late afternoon. Jessica remained very quiet for most of the trip. She stared out the window and worried a handkerchief in her hand.
She wondered who Margaret’s mysterious uncle might be. She had never heard her stepmother speak of any relatives. She decided it was probably just some story that the woman had devised to tell Jason.
As the coach finally came to a stop in front of Jessica’s childhood home, she scrambled out of the coach and turned to Donny. “I think you should remain out here with the coach. If I can get Jason away, then I will send him out to you. If something happens to detain me, I will meet you at the inn.”
She did not wait for any argument from Donny. She left the driver and one footman with her nanny, and took the other with her. Walking boldly up to the front door, she let the knocker fall. It echoed inside the hall. Soon, the door opened to reveal, not Foy, the majordomo who had been with the family since she could remember, but a man she did not recognize.
“Yes?” He looked down his nose at her.
“Where is Foy?” Jessica asked.
“Foy is no longer employed by Her Ladyship,” he informed her haughtily.
Jessica raised her chin and disdainfully brushed past him. “You may inform Her Ladyship that the Duchess of Wyndham is here to see her.”
The majordomo sniffed primly at such boldness and stepped in front of her footman, barring him from entering. Jessica ignored him and started toward the drawing room.
Just before she entered the room, she realized the man had not moved. “Well?” she prompted disdainfully. “Will you tell your mistress that I am here, or shall I have to find her myself? And please allow my footman entrance,” she said in the most regal tone she could muster.
The man bowed, then hurried off to find Margaret. Jessica had her footman wait in the foyer and swept into the drawing room. She waited until the man’s footsteps had died away before she went in search of Jason. Just as she was about to dash out the door, she heard Margaret’s quick footsteps and the rustle of her skirt. She mouthed a silent oath as she hurriedly sat in one of the chairs and acted as if she had been waiting for hours.
Margaret was slightly breathless when she arrived at the doorway. Her calculating glance landed on Jessica, seated nonchalantly on the settee, and her mouth flattened when she realized who her visitor was. She sauntered into the room.
“Well, well, what is this? Some sort of charade? You are playing at being a duchess now?” she asked sarcastically.
“No charade, Margaret,” Jessica answered her stonily. “You know whom I married. You were certainly paid enough by him.”
“Ah, yes, I seem to recall now that someone did want to marry you. I could not imagine why the powerful Duke of Wyndham would want to marry such a little slut as yourself, but I suppose you enticed him into your bed. I see you are quite fertile, aren’t you?” Her gaze landed pointedly on the small swell beneath Jessica’s gown.
“I did not come to trade insults with you, Margaret. I came to see my brother.” Jessica could not allow her temper to get out of control if she wished to accomplish what she had come to do.
“Really?” Margaret raised an elegant brow. “Jason is not here at the moment.”
Jessica began to panic. What if she were already too late? She forced herself to remain calm. “Not here? Where is he?”
Margaret waved a hand. “Oh, he is out having a riding lesson, and then he was going on a picnic.” She frowned, feigning confusion. “Or perhaps he was going to visit a friend. It is so difficult to keep track of children.”
Jessica knew Margaret was lying. The woman had kept a very close watch on her brother when she was living in the house. She could not imagine Margaret suddenly changing her ways. However, she decided to play along.
“When do you expect him to return?” she asked.
“I really could not say,” Margaret said. “It would not be worth your time waiting for him. He might decide to spend the night with his friend.”
“Margaret, I did not travel all the way from Wyndham just to turn around and go back again without seeing my brother.” Jessica stood. “I believe I will stay the night and wait for him. You may have my old room made ready. Donn
y is out in the coach. Would you tell your servants to inform her of my plans? I would like some tea and biscuits, and then I believe I will rest before dinner.”
Jessica hoped her imperious manner would fool her stepmother. At the moment, she was feeling anything but imperious. The woman frightened her. She wandered to the window and looked out, waiting for Margaret’s next move.
“My, my, haven’t we become the high and mighty duchess?” she sneered. “Did your new husband teach you those manners? You certainly could not have picked them up in the gutters of London.”
Jessica swung around to face her stepmother. “You would know about the gutters of London, Margaret, for I seem to recall that you were the one who told me of the establishment of Madame du Barré.”
Margaret burst into shrill laughter. “A word or two about an exciting, seductive place dropped into an innocent ear was all it took to pull Miss High-and-Mighty down from her lily-white pedestal. You were so easy to manipulate, Jessica my dear, that it was almost no fun at all.”
Jessica gasped at Margaret’s revelation.
Margaret laughed again as she sauntered closer. “Oh, yes, my plan to get rid of you worked so well.” She frowned. “But then you met this duke and landed on your feet again. I will have to think of something else.”
“I will leave as soon as you let me see Jason,” Jessica said, planning to take her brother with her.
“I have no intention of having you leave, dear Jessica.” Margaret smiled. “Of course, you will see your darling Jason. I may even allow you to travel to America with him.” Margaret gazed at Jessica thoughtfully. “Well, we shall decide that later.” Margaret took her by the arm.
“Let go of me, Margaret.” Jessica pulled out of her grasp.
The sound of a scuffle, and a yell of “Watch out, Your Grace!” came from her footman in the foyer. Then Jessica heard a grunt, and the thud of a body hitting the floor. Jessica’s heart sank. Her footman had been overcome by Margaret’s thugs.
The Duke Who Loved Me: On His Majesty's Secret Service Book 1 Page 27
