A Daring Deception

by Trentham, Laura

  With a satisfied smile on her face, she went lax and slipped fully under the water. He grinned and loomed over the tub, his hands braced on the sides, enjoying her playfulness. He had a feeling she had not been able to embrace that part of herself for a long while. She emerged and dashed water out of her eyes.

  “Your hair still needs washing.” He moved behind her, hoping the mundane task would blunt his arousal. If anything, washing her hair only made the uncomfortable situation in his trousers worse. The task was intimate in a way he couldn’t describe. Even more so than bringing her to climax.

  She tilted her head back for him to rinse her. The water had cooled while they’d played, and she squealed in reaction. She sat up and wrung the water from her hair. Her hard nipples begged him to bend down and take one in his mouth, but he resisted.

  Instead, he retrieved one of his dressing gowns and a length of cloth. She stepped out of the tub, and he wrapped the cloth around her, rubbing her dry. After replacing the wet cloth with his dry, too-big dressing gown, he settled her in front of the fire and positioned himself behind her with a brush. He took his time, taking care with the tangles, and she relaxed between his legs, propping her arms on his knees.

  “You are exhausted.” He could brush her hair for hours from the sheer enjoyment of touching her, but she needed to rest. Obstacles awaited them. “Let me tuck you into bed.”

  He rose, moved in front of her, and held out his hands. She didn’t take them.

  “You are aroused.” She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, and his cock twitched.

  The state was so enduring, he’d almost forgotten. “Yes. I can’t seem to help it around you.”

  “What do you want?” She cast a look at him through her lashes, a half smile hovering on her lips.

  “I want you to be happy.”

  A huff signaled her displeasure. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Have you already forgotten your promise of honesty?”

  With slow, languorous intent, she ran a finger down the length of him. Her touch was light, and the fabric of his trousers was thick, yet the trail of sensation made him groan deep in his throat.

  “You’ve had a difficult night.”

  She tutted and cupped his erection. “Honesty, Your Grace. Tell me what you want in this instant.”

  He surrendered. “Unbutton my trousers.”

  Her hands jumped up to comply. While she fumbled with the buttons, he pulled his water-splotched shirt off and tossed it aside. As soon as his trousers were loose, he shoved them down his thighs, freeing his cock.

  He was ready to burst before she even touched him. This was going to last an embarrassingly short time. He fisted the base with one hand and cupped her head with the other, guiding the tip to her mouth.

  She made a little sound of surprise and glanced up at him. The picture she made was erotic. His cock was tantalizingly close to her lips. Lips she daubed with her tongue as if knowing he was slowly going mad. Her hair was loose, and his dressing gown gaped to reveal the top curves of her breasts.

  “I want you to suck me off.” He barely rasped out the words, but he knew she understood when, with their gazes locked, she opened her mouth and engulfed the head of his cock.

  His knees wobbled, and his hips flexed, pushing deeper into her hot mouth. He wrapped her hair around his hand and held her, pumping gently into her mouth and making sure not to go too deep even as he wanted to feel her throat catch and squeeze him.

  As predicted, he didn’t last more than a handful of minutes, erupting in her mouth. She gamely tried to swallow his spend, but some dribbled down her chin. The picture etched itself into his memory to be revisited even as embarrassment at his rough handling rushed through him.

  He tucked himself back in his trousers. She sagged backward into the chair, her lips swollen and her eyes heavy. He wiped her chin clean with his thumb and picked her up in a cradle hold. She rested her head on his shoulder, boneless in his arms. His selfishness knew no bounds.

  “I’m sorry, Jessica.”

  “For what?”

  “For using you so dreadfully.”

  She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. “Was I dreadful at it? I’ll get better with practice.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” He lay her on his bed and climbed in next to her. She cuddled into his side like a contented cat. “You are innocent and—”

  “Not so innocent anymore.” She patted his cheek absently. “Stop worrying so. I enjoyed taking you in my mouth.”

  And with that pronouncement, she fell asleep. He could only shake his head and stifle laughter. Gray light seeped through the curtains. It was a new day, and he had much to do, but he could not bring himself to leave her. Not yet.

  Chapter 25

  Jessica came awake with a start, pushing up on an elbow and clutching the covers to her chest, unable to fit herself in time or place for one heart-pounding moment. With the rush of a dam breaking, the events of the past hours flooded her, including her bath and the aftermath. Blushing, she flopped back to the impossibly soft pillows in the bed. Simon’s bed, although he was no longer next to her.

  Light pierced the curtains. How long had she been asleep? Hours or days? She slipped out of bed, still in Simon’s dressing gown, and peeked through the slit. The window overlooked a large private garden. Two gardeners worked on planting spring flowers and pruning dead limbs. The slanting sunrays pointed to afternoon.

  The sound of voices in the hallway spun her around, and she tied the dressing gown tighter. The door opened without preamble, and Lady Drummond popped her head inside. Seeing Jessica by the window, she threw the door wide and grinned.

  “My dear girl. What a gauntlet of challenges you’ve faced. My brother doesn’t deserve you, but I’m so pleased you’re to be my sister.” Lady Drummond approached and took Jessica’s hands in a strong hold that seemed to transfer a bit of strength.

  Jessica stood up straighter, and while her worries didn’t disappear, they seemed lighter. “I’m pleased to see you once again, Lady Drummond.”

  “I insist you call me Minerva.” Minerva’s gaze flicked over her.

  Jessica curled her bare toes in the thick rug and braced for a setdown. “I can explain. You see, last night—”

  Minerva held up a hand and winked. “No need to explain. Rafe and I were young and impetuous. We are still rather impetuous on occasion.”

  Jessica let out a puff of breath. If Minerva hadn’t stopped her, Jessica wasn’t sure exactly what explanation she would have offered. The truth was entirely scandalous. “Simon asked me to be his wife.”

  Minerva’s smile was all knowing. “Yes, he told me. That’s why I’m here. To prepare you.”

  Jessica opened and closed her mouth, not sure how to respond. Her mother had died long before discussing what was expected in the marriage bed, but considering Jessica was wearing nothing but Simon’s dressing gown, she did not need a tutorial on the finer points of the wedding night. At least, she didn’t think she did.

  Minerva raised her eyebrows. “Please tell me Simon mentioned he acquired a special license. Although there was talk about whisking you off to Gretna Green if necessary.”

  “No, actually, he didn’t. He did say some time ago we should marry quickly to head off Goforth’s plans.”

  “I should ring the peel over his head, but he has much on his mind.” Minerva rolled her eyes before settling her gaze on Jessica. “No doubt he would have you both sign and make the marriage legal while you wear his dressing gown, but I put my foot down.”

  Jessica fisted the lapels of the gown together. “Are you saying he wants to wed me this very day?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Minerva patted her arm. “If the situation were different, I would insist he wait and read the banns, but you and your brother need the protection a duke can provide as soon as possible.”

  Jessica swallowed, casting her head around the matter. “I have nothing to wear. My dress from last night
is a shambles.”

  “I have an assortment of dresses you can choose from. Come with me.” Minerva led Jessica out of Simon’s chambers, up a floor, and down a long hall. Portraits of Bellingham ancestors marked her progress with serious expressions and censorious eyes.

  The town house was at least five times as large as the one Goforth had rented for the season. The furnishings were tasteful and elegant, but the stillness gave an impression of stasis. Even though it was where Simon lay his head while in London, it wasn’t a home.

  The chambers they entered were distinctly feminine. Blues and golds overlay rich creams. The furniture had elegant lines and was delicate yet sturdy.

  “My old rooms,” Minerva announced. Two maid were already at work. One arranged dresses on the large bed, while the other hung one from the wardrobe door, fluffing the skirt.

  Jessica ran her hand over the rich satins, silks, and muslin fabrics. “They’re all lovely.”

  “A few seasons out of fashion, I’m afraid, but thankfully, they should need minimal adjustments. We are of the same size and height. Or at least, we were.” Minerva cupped her hands under the outline of a bump at her belly. It was obvious she was well pleased with the news.

  Jessica gasped and smiled. “Congratulations to you and Lord Drummond.”

  “Indeed. Our families have much to celebrate.” Minerva moved to finger a beautiful claret-colored dress hanging on the wardrobe. Elaborate gold embroidery detailed the skirt. “This one is too dark for spring.”

  A butter-yellow dress on the bed drew Jessica closer. It was simple and fresh with long sleeves, a high collar, and modest ruffles at the shoulders. “You told me once yellow is Simon’s favorite color. What do you think of this one?”

  Minerva whisked the dress up and pressed it to Jessica, examining her with a tilt of her head. Her smile filled Jessica with much-needed confidence. “The color suits you. A beautiful spring flower. It’s perfect.”

  Minerva bustled her behind a dressing screen and handed over a set of undergarments. Jessica slipped on the chemise, and one of the maids helped her into a set of stays. All the while, Minerva kept up a stream of chatter.

  “Simon has done little to the town house since I married Rafe and moved to Wintermarsh,” Minerva said.

  “He told me once he considers Wintermarsh his home.” Jessica adjusted the sleeves while the maid fastened the hooks of the dress in the back. The clothes fit exactly as if they were made for someone else. The bodice was an inch too tight and the hemline an inch too short, but it would do in a pinch.

  “I’m sure you’ll make many changes to this house as well as to the primary country estate. After all, the two of you will want to make your own home and fill it with children.” Minerva handed over two delicate silk stockings and ties.

  Jessica’s head spun. She would be a duchess in charge of not one, but many households.

  Her panic must have shown plainly on her face, because Minerva took her by the elbow with concern wrinkling her brow. “Whatever’s the matter, my dear?”

  Jessica plopped into the nearest chair, the cream velvet soft under her hands. “I’m not… I don’t… I have no idea how to be a duchess. I know nothing of managing a household or being a proper hostess.”

  “Pish. You’re hardly a dunderhead. You’ll learn. The housekeeper is excellent. A no-nonsense Scottish widow I hired myself. I’ll introduce you.”

  Jessica wrapped her arms around her waist and leaned over until her forehead nearly touched her knees. “I wasn’t raised a lady. I was never meant to be a duchess. I’ll be a disappointment.”

  Minerva dropped to her heels and set her hands on Jessica’s knees. “Stop it right now. I hear Goforth’s words coming out of your mouth. It is an easy thing to denigrate yourself. Simon isn’t marrying you for your skill and experience in menu planning, for goodness’ sake. He loves you.”

  “And I love him,” Jessica whispered.

  Minerva patted her knees and stood. “Trust me, that’s all that matters. The rest will work itself out. I promise.”

  Feeling marginally better, Jessica pulled on the stockings and slippers Minerva provided. She stood and did a turn for Minerva, who hummed. “It will do for now, but I assume your old wardrobe is now out of reach. We need to call on the modiste tomorrow.”

  Disquiet slipped through Jessica. While marrying Simon was a dream come true, she couldn’t forget her promise to keep Blake safe. “Do you have a traveling dress I could borrow in case I need to fetch my brother on the morrow?”

  Minerva’s brows twitched down, but she turned to the wardrobe and riffled through what was left, pulling out a navy-blue habit with gold braiding. The severe cut was elegant and military inspired. “It’s woefully out of fashion, but you are welcome to it.”

  “Thank you.” It wasn’t a matter of if, but when Goforth discovered their subterfuge.

  Minerva sat Jessica down in front of a looking glass for the maid to style her hair into an intricate braid that suited her well. “You look lovely, Jessica. Are you ready?”

  A pang of longing formed a lump in her throat. “I wish my mother and brother were here.”

  Minerva’s bright smile faded into one of sympathy. “I know, but Rafe and I are here, and we’re your family now too.”

  Jessica could only manage a nod.

  “Let’s make it official then.”

  The walk to the drawing room seemed a long and winding path, not unlike the events that had brought Jessica and Simon together in the first place. The drawing room was marginally more welcoming than the cold receiving room of the night before. A colorful rug or two and new curtains would add warmth.

  A young man in black robes and holding a Bible hunched on the edge of a settee, his eyes round. Deep in conversation, Simon and Rafe stood at the mantel, each holding a tumbler of liquor, neither noticing their arrival.

  Simon was dressed in dark, formal breeches and a dove-gray frock coat. Not a hair was out of place, and his stock was crisp and elaborate. In short, he looked nothing like the man in shirt sleeves with rumpled hair who’d tended to her so sweetly the night before.

  Jessica tensed on the threshold as Minerva cleared her throat. “Gentlemen.”

  Both men’s heads swiveled toward her, but Simon might have been the only one in the room. He straightened and made his way to her, depositing his glass on a table on the way.

  He took her hands and leaned down to buss her cheek. His lips were warm, and his breath was sweet with brandy. In her ear, he whispered, “You look like a lemon twist I’d like to unwrap.”

  Leave it to him to lighten the moment and put her at ease. While the trappings were more formal, the man she loved was underneath. She smiled.

  “Ah, there comes the sun.” He crooked his arm, and she lay her hand on his forearm. “Are you ready?”

  “I’m nervous.”

  “So am I.” Simon turned to the man of the cloth to perform an introduction. “Mr. Jones is a curate of Saint Mary’s.”

  “I’ve never performed a wedding.” His voice was barely past the point of breaking.

  “You’re in luck, Mr. Jones. My lady and I have never been married before, so we don’t have anything to compare it to. You’ll do fine, I’m sure.”

  The young man let out a braying, nervous laugh. The ceremony commenced without delay. The young curate didn’t opine about the sanctity and gravity of marriage. He dived into the usual recitations, probably because he had no intimate knowledge of the union.

  Jessica repeated her vows, and Simon did the same. She might have promised to wash his feet every evening for all she could remember of what she said. What would happen next? There was no happily ever after possible with Goforth threatening her brother.

  Finally, they both signed to make things official, and Rafe took the document with promises to see it delivered to the appropriate authorities.

  The moment verged on the unreal, but the gold ring on her finger anchored her. “So that’s it. We’re mar
ried?”

  “We are.” He dipped his head to catch her gaze, his smile tottering on the edge of uncertain. “I hope you aren’t already harboring regrets.”

  She grabbed his hand for a squeeze. “No regrets, only worry for what comes next.”

  “I wish I could whisk you away for a proper honeymoon.” He was silent for a moment as if grieving the loss. “We still have two days—and nights—before Goforth expects you to return.”

  Her smile was tremulous. “Another night together would be lovely.”

  As if her pronouncement angered the devil, the butler rapped on the door. “A message was delivered, sir.”

  A prickling sense of foreboding turned to outright terror when she recognized the wax seal on the missive. Simon ripped it open, muttering curses as he read. “Goforth is aware we duped him. He suspected correctly we would wed at the earliest opportunity.”

  He handed the parchment to Jessica, and Rafe and Minerva gathered closer, as if they could protect her from its contents. The letter slipped out of her fingers to float to the floor. “It’s too late. He has Blake.”

  “We’ll retrieve your brother.” Simon took her hands between his and chafed them.

  “Right now?”

  Simon firmed his mouth and nodded. “I’ll order the carriage brought around. If the weather holds and we can manage decent stock during the changeovers, we can be at the Penhaven estate by midnight.”

  “I can change and be ready in a quarter hour.” Jessica took off toward the stairs, her hands and knees shaking. The culmination of all her fears pressed on her chest until she was gasping back tears when she entered Minerva’s old chambers.

  The maid helped her out of the daffodil-colored dress into the somber military-style riding habit. Apropos, considering she was going to war. The maid packed a valise for her, and Jessica resisted the urge to hurry her.

  Simon paced the entry. He too had changed into traveling clothes. Buckskin breeches and boots topped by a simply tied neckcloth and serviceable frock coat. Minerva bustled out of a side hallway, followed by a footman bearing a hamper.