by Emma Wildes
“Managed? Is that what I am?” Jack moved to slip his arm around his wife’s waist, her head barely reaching his shoulder. His height and sleek dark coloring were a decided contrast to her short stature and pale skin and hair. “Beware, Ramsey. I’m afraid she’s right. I am very managed.”
“I look forward to it.” Out of the corner of his eye, Alex could see the sweep of ivory satin skirts as his wife engaged in conversation with the bishop.
His wife.
Alex bowed. “Speaking of such things, please excuse me.”
Jack looked amused, his dark eyes narrowing. “By all means, Ramsey. Expect a dinner invitation from us soon, whenever you and your lovely bride return from the country.”
Alex was already edging away. “We’d be delighted.”
He was actually prepared to be delighted in a lot of things, most of all the coming night.
Chapter 10
The duck melted in her mouth, a savory sauce of red wine and cherries enhancing the richness of the meat. Someone hadn’t lied to Alex, Jessica thought as she ate; the tiny, quaint inn tucked against the bank of the Thames was indeed blessed with a fine chef. The private dining room where they sat had two square windows carved into the thick stone walls, giving a lovely view of moonlight on the slick black water sliding slowly past. The evening was warm, so there was no leaping fire in the large stone hearth, but it gave the low-ceilinged and half-timbered room a cozy feel. Homey copper pots hung on the walls, a decided contrast to the casual elegance and excellence of the food.
Alex had finished his meal and just sipped his wine, watching her from across the table with a tinge of open amusement in his blue eyes. In the warm and humid air, a rebellious lock of blond hair curled at his temple, giving him a boyish aura that certainly did not go along with the width of his shoulders and the fine lines by his well-shaped mouth. He lounged at ease in his chair, indolently lifting his glass to his lips now and again, legs stretched out in front of him and crossed negligently at the ankle.
Nervously she bolted down another morsel of duck.
She’d vowed before God to share his home and his bed for the rest of her life. Ever since the stormy scene with Nathaniel, and Alex’s impetuous proposal the day before, Jessica had alternated between acknowledging this new reality with a kind of fearful joy and a sinking sense of fate.
She was no longer an unrealistic child-woman, falling in love with the handsome hero. His potent charm and golden good looks meant nothing compared to the worth of the man himself. And that, she promised herself, remained to be seen.
But for now, the food was delicious, the evening balmy and sweet, and the night ahead—well, she just refused to think about it.
She sighed eventually as she took one last mouthful and set down her fork. “That was perhaps the most wonderful meal of my life.”
In mock horror, Alex’s dark blond brows shot up. “Please, my sweet, don’t let the cook at Grayston hear you say that. She’ll be devastated and work herself into an early grave, making you fat as a Christmas goose in her endeavor to prove you wrong.”
My sweet…
His charm was too facile, yet she couldn’t help it; a small laugh welled up uncontrollably. “I’ll keep my opinions to myself then.”
“Probably for the best.”
“I am sure you have no desire for a fat wife.”
“Oh, but desire you I do, and I cannot imagine feeling otherwise.” The smoothness of his tone and swiftness of the response was supported by the heat in his eyes as his gaze captured and held hers.
Jessica swallowed and self-consciously looked away, quickly reaching for her wine glass and nearly toppling it over in her haste. Of course he wanted her, a practical little voice argued in her head. Men were driven by base urges and Alex was very much a man. It was his legal right now to indulge that urge. Surely there were women everywhere in the world no doubt in exactly the same position as she found herself this night: newly wed and expected to fulfill the needs of their husbands. If they could all do it, so could she.
She had told herself over and over that she would not be the terrified bride.
Don’t think about it, she chided herself for the hundredth time.
“Dessert, madame?”
The suave voice at her elbow made her jump. So unsettled by Alex and his overt statement, Jessica hadn’t even noticed the short, plump man coming into the room. With a sinking heart, she saw he held a tray loaded with pastries of every kind. She mumbled, “Really, I couldn’t…”
“You enjoyed the duck, yes? And the pommes, just so, eh?” A beaming smile was directed at her empty plate.
It wasn’t like she could deny it, since she’d eaten every scrap. No use explaining that when she was very, very nervous, she ate everything in sight. A doll-like nod was the best she could summon.
The portly chef gave her an irreverent but kindly wink. “Then madame must try my pastries. Spun from the clouds, they are, and lighter than air.”
Unable to douse his obvious delight but still full to the brim, she reluctantly chose a delicate éclair full of sweetened cream and drizzled with dark chocolate.
“Fat wife, indeed.” It was a murmur from across the table. Alex had one eyebrow elevated in an infuriating arch of open entertainment.
With the sweet halfway to her mouth, Jessica paused. “I beg your pardon?”
His grin would have gained the devil entrance into the pearly gates it held so much charisma. He lifted his glass. “I was teasing, my lady. Have another if it is your heart’s desire.”
Taking a deliberately large bite of the sweet, Jessica licked the icing off her fingers in an unladylike mannerism and responded loftily, “I think I’m satisfied, Colonel Ramsey.”
“Then may I suggest we retire?” The timbre of his voice seemed to drop a notch. “As soon, of course, as you are finished. For I am definitely not satisfied. Yet.”
Upstairs. To the charming little room with an equally charming large bed. With slightly narrowed eyes, Alex sat, still fingering his wine glass as he watched her.
Rather like the proverbial hawk in that there was a sort of predatory gleam in those blue depths.
Well, it couldn’t be put off forever, could it? Damn all if she was going to let him see how really uncertain she felt. Yet, she took her time about finishing the sweet before she picked up her napkin, dabbed her lips with the linen square and rubbed it against her fingers, and then stood.
Alex openly laughed as he followed suit, his movements fluid and graceful as he came over to place his hand on the small of her back and escort her out of the dining room and up the winding staircase. She was acutely aware of the strong feel of his fingers on the base of her spine with every step.
And even more aware of his height and masculine presence once they were inside the little room. She knew he was tall, but now he seemed so tall. Alex filled the space, making her want to back away. The windows were open, and the river breeze felt warm. She lifted her face. There was as much dismissal in her tone as she could summon when she said, “I need a few minutes to change, Alex.”
“Not so.”
She stiffened. “Not so? Please, I need a few minutes to…” Oh God, how the words stuck in her throat. “To undress.”
“I want to undress you myself.” He only looked infuriatingly amused at her discomfiture.
That boyish grin and his assumption were a welcome irritant. If she were angry, perhaps she wouldn’t be so nervous. She shot back, “Proper gentlemen give their wives some privacy on their wedding nights.”
“Do they?”
“I insist you leave this minute.”
“You insist?” He moved forward then, and she retreated under his advance, the backs of her thighs coming up against the edge of the bed. His hand came up, infinitely gentle as he brushed her chin. “And how do you know, little Jess, what people do on their wedding nights? I would think each one to be different, dependent on the man and woman in question.” His eyes were so steady, so
very blue. “We’ll only have this one, you and I, so why can’t we do as we please instead of being dictated to by some silly rules? No one will ever know but the two of us what goes on between us in that bed.” His hand slipped from her chin to her neck and slid around, urging her forward as he grasped her nape. “Now then, let me rephrase. My love, it would please me very much to undress my bride. Please indulge me.”
My love…how easily he said it. How foolishly she wished it was true.
His mouth seemed to lower ever so slowly before she felt the brush of his lips on hers. As before when he had kissed her, all reason seemed to fade against the invasion of sweet sensation. The feel of his mouth against hers was sublime, perfect, part of a romantic dream.
His kiss was gentle and achingly persuasive. When he lifted his head and looked into her eyes, this time all the teasing light had disappeared, replaced by a fire that seemed to take her breath away.
Nathaniel had never looked at her that way. “Jess?”
She almost felt faint, giddy with a mixture of excitement and apprehension that could no longer be denied. Oh Lord, this was really going to happen, wasn’t it? The frantic thought whirled through her brain and made her knees weaken. As Alex reached for her again, she fought the urge to bolt out of the room. Her hands flew to his shoulders. Before their informal private dinner he had removed his coat and she could feel the hard muscles under his lawn shirt.
“Wait.” The wobble in her voice was a bit embarrassing. “Why?”
She didn’t have an answer, mesmerized by the intensity of his smile.
His mouth caught hers again and that signature traitorous excitement began to coil somewhere deep inside. She was barely aware he’d begun to slip free the buttons down the back of her dress until she felt the coolness of the breeze against her flesh. As his fingers moved, he kissed her again and again, sometimes wickedly deep, sometimes only lifting his lips a fraction and lightly brushing, bringing a flow and ebb of sensation that tantalized. Even without any experience she knew the way he seduced her mouth was deliberate, designed to distract her from the expert way he disrobed her. The unfastening of her dress was erotic as she could feel the brush of his long fingers through her chemise. When he pushed the garment from her shoulders, the tiny shiver that racked her body was not at all from the breeze.
Her dress fell into a pool of cloth at her feet. The flush she felt climb into her cheeks was not purely embarrassment as Alex’s gaze slid over her bared flesh. The heat from his body seemed to have seeped into her very soul. All her worries had somehow vanished at his touch, like he was a magician waving a mystical wand.
God, she was in a place she’d sworn to herself she would never be.
She was under his spell.
Alex smiled down at his bride, his hands lingering at her waist. Sexual tension seemed to string his muscles into twisted knots. Just from a few kisses he was very aroused, his cock hard and full against the confining cloth of his breeches. He whispered, “Little Jess is now a beautiful woman.”
“We all grow up.” Her voice sounded raspy. He was pleased to see her breasts rise in quick betraying lifts, the fullness mounded against the thin material of her shift. Those ivory mounds beckoned for his hands and mouth. The tantalizing view he’d gotten of them that night at Braidwood was burned permanently into his brain.
“Some of us better than others,” he told her.
She licked her lips and stared up at him with that wide, straightforward gaze he often found disconcerting. “You’ve always been beautiful, Alex.”
The husky tone in her voice drove him wild, his lower body throbbing and tight. Jessica still wore entirely too much clothing, but he was trying to take it slow. If she had any idea how he yearned to strip her naked that very instant, toss her on the bed and satisfy his wicked desires in the quickest manner possible, she would no doubt faint away in virginal fear.
Or perhaps not, he acknowledged silently as he looked into her glimmering silver eyes. Jessica had more courage than most men he knew. Even in the face of what he knew she feared with instinctive shyness, she stood, shoulders back, her chin lifted. The way she responded to him already told him he was a very lucky man. If she was half as fiery in bed as she was the way she approached other matters, married life might be a lot more satisfying than he imagined.
God, he wanted her.
His hands slid upward toward the tie of her lacy chemise but that progress was arrested as she shook her head and swiftly caught his wrists. “No, Alex.”
No. He’d certainly been raised to register that word meant to absolutely stop cold. So, he did.
Inexperienced young ladies were not his usual fare. A groan stifled in his throat, he endeavored to find a soothing tone. “Sweetheart, making love can be done with your clothes on, but is not the preferable method, I assure you.”
He really, really wanted her naked. Now. “This is hardly fair, is it?”
“Fair?” He blinked.
The smile she gave him was tremulous and sweet, her face tilted to his as her hands released his arms and pressed against his chest instead, palms forward. He felt their warmth and light pressure through the linen of his shirt like a hot iron branding his skin. She whispered, “I should get the same opportunity. If you can undress me, I should get to do the same to you.” Her fingers went to the first unfastened button at his neck, trembling against his heated skin as she slid it free.
How could unfastening a button be so arousing, he wondered dimly as a fever pulse swept through his body. Something he did every day without thought, yet when Jessica performed the simple act, he threatened to combust on the spot.
It took everything in him to simply stand, docile and patient, while she finally made it to where the material tucked into his breeches. Her gentle tug of the cloth from his pants nearly made him groan out loud, and when she pushed the shirt from his shoulders, he wanted to shout with joy as he shrugged out of the sleeves.
Until her eyes widened in horror. A small gasp escaped her lips and she stared. “Oh, Alex.”
He glanced downward, well acquainted with the less-than-attractive scenery. Ridges of scar tissue marred his torso from sword wounds gained in several early battles of the war. Bullets had done similar work here and there, the silvery reminders not at all attractive. His shoulder was no longer bandaged but the wound still looked a bit raw and ugly. That she would be horrified hadn’t occurred to him and he was suddenly self- conscious. “Not so beautiful after all, I know. The price, I’m afraid, of being a soldier. Does it bother you?”
“You’ve been hurt so terribly.” It was little more than a whisper. Her eyes were wide and glossy with tears. She blinked several times and her slender body trembled. One shaking hand reached out and traced a ragged line of deformed tissue. “How close you must have come to death.”
Crying? For me?
“Not hurt terribly, just often,” he said dryly, but he was touched. In his soul, in his heart. “As for death, I haven’t been able to decide if I have the devil’s own luck because I seem to get hit so often, or because I survive each injury. If our past is any indication, I am sure you’d side with the devil.”
Her gaze flew up to meet his, at once indignant. “How can you jest? I even feel more awful now about that night back at Braidwood. Your shoulder looks like it is still painful.”
“Not right now,” he said in blunt honesty. It was true, the wound wasn’t completely healed but the least of his problems. An entirely different part of his anatomy was in sweet agony. “Jess, sweetheart, are you trying to drive me crazy?”
“What?” Half-dressed, she looked deliciously confused at the question. “I am simply standing here.”
“Quite so, and my very point.” His fingers dove into her hair, loosening the soft strands from the ribbon that held them. “My shoulder is nothing, but as for near death, I am dying here and now, more so than on any battlefield. I want you more than life itself at this moment. If Bonaparte himself were to appear in this r
oom, I would not notice him. Understand?”
She did. “Alex.” The reprimand lost something when she buried her face against his naked chest.
Lord help me.
He took a long, shuddering breath and swept her up into his arms. Once she was deposited carefully on the bed, he made swift work of the rest of her clothing, ignoring her inarticulate and embarrassed protests as he stripped away underclothes and stockings. His own boots and breeches were shed without care. He climbed in next to her and leaned over to take her mouth again in a searing kiss. She tasted sweet and soft, so innocently alluring with her small hands at his shoulders and her breath coming in quick pants.
More alluring than any of those eager experienced women from his past, he realized with a small sense of wonder. Every practiced caress and calculated arousal paled before the artless clasp of his young bride’s hands on his shoulders and the way she returned his kisses with inexperienced ardor. He grazed his mouth across her smooth cheek and whispered in her ear, “You feel wonderful, Mrs. Ramsey.”
The response was something between a gasp and a sigh as he nibbled lightly on her earlobe. Which was exactly what he wanted to hear.
His mouth drifted…everywhere. Across moist, fragrant skin. Over the slim column of her throat, to fasten at the frantic pulse at the hollow. Her breasts were perfect, full and rosy-tipped, and he gave them lavish attention, concentrating on the quivering peaks and registering with satisfaction her breathless arch and the restless shift of her body as he suckled and caressed.
Nails dug into his bare shoulders.
He rained kisses down her abdomen and down the side of one slim hip. She restively twisted and murmured his name. Lightly he ran his hands up and down the taut skin of her calves, her thighs, and grasped her hips, slowly splaying his fingers wide and urging her legs apart. “Relax, Jess,” he murmured against her skin, “we’re just getting to the good part.”
His fingers slipped into soft heat and betraying moisture. She tensed at the intimate invasion.
