by Emma Wildes
Making one’s way across London on a cold February evening, with no money and without the comfort of a cloak, was a tedious business, Patricia decided as she alighted from the hired hack. Shivering, she could barely feel her feet as she went up the steps of the townhouse, grateful to see lights blazing, though it had undoubtedly gotten very late.
Of course there were lights, Jared would be upset, she thought fondly as she tried the knob, unable to turn it with her shaking fingers and finally lifting the doorknocker to let it fall. In fact, she couldn’t wait to be held in his arms.
“Your Grace!” Brightson for once looked completely rattled, his usually proper countenance stricken as he jerked open the door. “Good heavens, where have you been? The duke is frantic. What has happened to you?”
He looked so horrified—and Patricia did suspect her appearance was less than perfect, that she stifled a small laugh. “Forgive me, but I am freezing, Brightston, can I come in?”
If possible, he looked even more distraught. “Oh dear, this is so irregular. There’s a fire in his Grace’s study. It will be warm.”
To Patricia’s infinite surprise, he actually touched her, something he would not normally dream of doing, hauling her inside the foyer and dragging her down to Jared’s study. Shoving her into a chair, he babbled, “I’ll get tea. That’s the ticket.”
“That sounds marvelous.” Patricia meant it, relaxing back and letting her eyes drift partway shut. It was utter and complete luxury just to be warm and safe.
“Where is Jared?”
“Looking for you, Madame, of course. His Grace has been gone for hours and hours.” The man actually wrung his hands together. “I think half of London is looking for you.”
“That’s unfortunate.” Frowning, she nudged off one sodden, filthy slipper with a numb toe. “You will need to send someone out to find him and let him know I am home.”
“I believe I am running out of people to send, your Grace. Perhaps we should hire more staff for circumstances like these. We could use another carriage as well, just in case.”
If she didn’t think him incapable of it, Patricia could have sworn the usually stoic butler was being sarcastic. “This adventure is not my fault,” she said defensively. “I am entirely blameless, for once.”
“Of course, your Grace.” He straightened, regaining a little of his normal impassive dignity. “I’ll see to that tea. And hot bathwater, I would guess, would be welcome. I will also try to drudge up someone to go and find the duke. Is there anything else I can do?”
“No, thank you. I think I will just sit here and thaw for a few minutes. I am sorry if this evening has been difficult, Brightson. I am sure you have been a pillar of sanity in a trying situation.”
Looking slightly mollified, the butler said regally, “Thank you, Duchess.”
* * * *
Utter despair was the only way to describe his feelings, but Jared could not justify any longer keeping everyone out looking for his missing wife. They had combed the streets near the docks, fanning out as much as possible. Rob having driven home to enlist the aid of every able-bodied man in the household. The sun had finally come up after hours of searching, glittering over the cold city with remorseless light, and still there was no sign of Patricia.
If he lost her, he wasn’t sure what he would do. Never in his life had he felt so helpless, and worse, so frightened. He was used to having the power wealth and privilege provided, but he was ineffectual at the moment in his quest to find what he valued most in the world.
Why the devil had it taken something like this to make him realize the depth of his feelings? Yes, he had admired her delicate beauty from the moment he saw her. He had also been enchanted by her vibrant personality and obvious intelligence. In fact, he had decided almost immediately she was suitable to become his wife.
Good God, he recalled he even told her that. It was a miracle she hadn’t refused his proposal in retrospect for he wasn’t how he could have been less romantic over the whole thing. His cowardice over facing his feelings for Patricia made him feel even more bleak and afraid of what was happening. She deserved more than just ardent lovemaking and his autocratic decrees. He saw that clearly now and hoped to God it was not too late. It wasn’t he hadn’t known he felt genuine affection for her. It was he hadn’t known the depth of it, or if he had, he’d denied it even to himself.
In short, he was a fool who had taken for granted the gift of her presence in his life.
The plan was to recruit new help, and set out afresh, but he was surprised to see Brightson hovering in the doorway of the townhouse as they pulled up. He alighted, noting the usually staid immaculate man showed a fine gray beard on his jaw, his rumpled clothes the same ones he’d worn the day before. The butler announced without preamble, “The Duchess is here, your Grace.”
“What?” Incredulous, Jared stared at him and felt an almost dizzying sense of relief mingle with his overt fatigue as he entered the warmth of the foyer. His knees actually felt weak as emotion washed over him. “How did she get here? Is she unharmed?”
“She’s a bit tired. I understand she told her maid she traded her diamond earrings for a ride home in a hired carriage. Since they were part of the family jewels, her Grace is most distressed at their loss.”
“Damn the Tellbourne jewels, I’d trade them all for her safety,” Jared said fervently, running his hand over his own stubbled jaw. “You are certain she is all right?”
“She appeared fine, sir, and after a warm bath and some hot tea, was persuaded to go to bed, though she did wish to stay up and wait for you. I convinced her that it would do no one any good if she fell ill because of her ordeal, and she did appear to be quite weary, so she agreed to sleep if I vowed you would wake her the moment you returned home.” Brightson lifted his brows slightly. “She’s upstairs in your bedroom.”
Finding himself smiling despite the fact he was bone-tired and drained from acute worry and walking the streets of London all night, Jared said, “Go to bed, Brightson, and thank you from both of us for your service. In fact, all the staff has been wonderful and I will reward each of you for your devotion, rest assured. Now, if you will excuse me, I want to see my wife.”
“Of course, sir.”
Taking the steps two at a time, surprised he had the energy but urgently needing to see Patricia with his own eyes, he carefully eased open the door to the bedroom. As promised, she lay in the center of his bed, the gilding of the dawn seeping through the heavy curtains and drifting light across her golden hair. Approaching the bed, he sank down on the edge, unable to speak, just lightly touching the silken strands that tumbled across his pillow. She was naked under the heap of blankets, he realized. Her shoulders were graceful above the drawn sheet, her lashes like fans on her pale cheeks.
He needed to hold her, to pull her warmth into his arms, to feel her body next to his with the solid reality of her well being. Standing, he stripped quickly, discarding boots, breeches, and his shirt with restive hands. Slipping in next to her, he inhaled the delicate fragrance of her skin and offered a prayer of thanks to whatever benevolent power had aided him in regaining the woman he loved.
Yes, he loved her. Somehow he was going to have to manage to tell her.
Pulling her against him, feeling soft, heated curves with tender pleasure, he heard her mumble sleepily, “Jared?”
“Yes, my love.”
Without opening her eyes, Patricia stretched slightly, her slender body moving tantalizingly to fit perfectly next to him. “Ummm …you’re here. I thought I was dreaming. I had a terrible evening, if you want the truth.”
He kissed her eyelids lightly and laughed softly at that understatement. “So did I.”
“It was Lady Black—”
“I know, love, we’ll talk it about later. I think I know most of whatever transpired anyway, except your remarkable and resourceful journey home. It will all be taken care of, rest assured.”
His wife shivered slightly, slipping
her arms around him. “I lost my cloak and now I can’t get warm, even after a hot bath and tea. You feel so good. Hot and hard.”
Hard. That was amazingly close to the truth.
Her breasts rested against his chest in sensual resilient pressure, and her fragrance stirred an automatic carnal reaction. Jared could feel himself stiffening in sexual arousal with almost incredulous realization, since he had been completely without sleep and was emotionally exhausted. Still, his shaft rose, pressing against the softness of her stomach, lengthening as he sighed into her hair. “You feel wonderful yourself.”
Patricia obviously noticed his erection, as it would have been impossible to miss with their bodies so intertwined. Her eyes still closed, she wiggled a little, just a shimmy of her delectable body against the evidence of his desire, rubbing against his growing cock. “I want you, too, but you must be tired.”
“Apparently, I am never that tired.” Adjusting their position, Jared eased the woman in his arms on to her back, looking into the depths of her lovely aqua eyes as they drifted open. “Spread your legs for me, darling, and let me love you.”
Her thighs parted obediently and he entered her with almost gentle persuasion, his own feelings so poignantly engaged he felt almost as if being inside her was like coming home. Her slim legs spread apart to accommodate his throbbing shaft as it slid in and out of her body. He deliberately moved slowly, whispering in her ear how much he wanted her, describing his desire in the most flowery of terms, until she pulled him down and kissed him with feverish need. To his surprise, Patricia said breathlessly, “Whatever happened to fucking, your Grace? I could use a little more speed.”
Jared stopped for a second in surprise, and then grinned at her impetuous request. “Can I deny my daring duchess? Hold on.”
On his next thrust he plunged deep, lightly biting her neck as he penetrated all the way, her tight breasts rubbing his chest. Pumping in and out of her with vigorous need that should satisfy even Patricia’s desire for submissive pleasure, he took her with heedless passion and she began to moan and twist, clutching his buttocks to bring him closer, sighing as he withdrew. Within moments she arched backwards, the ivory curve of her slender neck showing her beating pulse, and she shattered with a loud and very primal scream of pleasure. Inside, he could feel her vaginal contractions surround and grip his erection in liquid velvet demand, and he surrendered, climaxing in tune with her orgasmic plea, erupting and shaking with the power of the blissful sensation.
He wanted to fall asleep like this, he thought, still inside her, rolling slightly to his side but continuing to hold her very close. Like they were one being with two frantically beating hearts. A single entity, a man and a woman bound together forever.
Maybe those would be the words he would use to finally tell her.
* * * *
It had to be late afternoon if the slanting rays of the sun were any indication. Sliding out from under the coverlet, Patricia picked up her silk dressing gown, which she had left by the side of Jared’s bed the night—no, morning before, and slipped it on. There was water in the basin by the dressing table and she washed her face, sitting down and using her husband’s comb to untangle her hair. Actually, aside from a small bruise near her temple, she felt completely fine now that she had some rest, which seemed remarkable. The whole experience was like a distant dream—a nightmare that would hopefully fade quickly.
Sometime during her slumber, someone had brought in a tray with tea and a plate piled high with different pastries, and it was true, she was actually quite famished. Patricia went to pour a cup, finding it still warm if not hot, and frowned as she saw there was also an envelope lying on the silver surface, with her name across the front in Jared’s signature scrawl. Wondering why on earth her husband would write to her when he could simply come upstairs and talk to her, she curiously broke the ducal seal on the back and took out a sheaf of paper.
My dearest Patricia:
In light of recent events and my overwhelming emotions at having you safe and with me again, I wish to express to you the depth of my feelings in a way that you can have and hold these words forever. I would give you anything material you desired, which I am sure you know, but love has no price, it cannot be bought, nor can it be sold, it is always a gift, and I give mine to you.
You hold my heart, darling, and have shattered my jaded illusions of a comfortable, settled marriage to a suitable woman. Your beauty beguiles me, your spirit enchants my soul, and your passion is like a white flame that draws and warms me. I am not a romantic man, but when I see you smile or kiss your lips, I believe fully in a mysterious and wonderful force that I did not suspect existed before I met you. When I worship your body with mine, I feel not only pleasure but also a deep communion of our spirits. It is making love in the truest sense of the word and I am moved by the wonder of it, and of you.
I am not sure I deserve the happiness you bring me, but I embrace it and the fact that I love you with all my heart, my soul, and everything else that I am. You are my life.
With my deep and abiding affection,
Your husband, Jared Warden, the seventh Duke of Tellbourne
Dated this day, February 14, 1811
Patricia wasn’t sure, but she thought perhaps she had stopped breathing. Tears filled her eyes and happiness she wasn’t sure was of this earth made her entire body tremble.
Jared loved her.
Not only had he said it, but he’d also written it in a love letter that was beyond the shadow of a doubt the most wonderful gift anyone had ever given her.
She needed to see him this instant, to tell him she loved him just as deeply, to touch him, to look into his eyes.
Still clutching the letter, Patricia ran to the door of the bedroom, heedless that she wore only her dressing gown and absolutely nothing else, and dashed down the hallway. Lucky that she didn’t break her neck descending the stairs, she flew down the steps. A startled maid gasped, “Good afternoon, your Grace.”
“It’s a wonderful afternoon,” Patricia said in return, giving a delighted laugh.
Brightson was in the downstairs hallway, and she demanded, “Is the duke home?”
“Your Grace, perhaps I should call a doctor. Let me help you back upstairs,” the butler said soothingly. His proper face wore a look of horror she was coming to know well. “Last evening was a terrible trial, but you should not be wondering about…”
“I am not in some sort of delirium, don’t worry,” Patricia said impatiently, glancing down at her attire. She was properly covered; it just wasn’t perhaps normal apparel for dashing around the house.
“I simply need to see my husband this instant. Where is he?”
“His study, Madame.” There was resignation in the reply. “But he has…”
“Thank you, Brightson.” Patricia was already moving away, going to the closed door of Jared’s study and knocking once, not waiting for a reply before opening it and going in.
“Patricia.” Jared stood in alarmed surprise as she crossed the rug and came toward him. “What’s wrong?’
“I read your letter.” His face blurred as tears filled her eyes once more and she went around the edge of the walnut desk and stopped in front of him, tilting her face up and gazing into his dark eyes. She said breathlessly, “It is the most beautiful thing in the world and I will cherish it always. I love you, too.”
His expression seemed to be something between amused tenderness and resignation. His well-shaped mouth lifted wryly and both of his hands came up to rest lightly on her shoulders. They felt warm through the thin silk. “I am glad on both counts, darling, but this couldn’t wait until we saw each other in the regular course of the day or perhaps until you donned proper clothing?”
“No,” she said with conviction. “It couldn’t.”
“Ah, well, I see. My dear, you do know Mr. Carlton, don’t you? And this is Mr. Tremer, his assistant.”
“Oh.” Patricia turned, and sure enough there were two other
men in the room, both of them standing, George Carlton looking openly amused. Heat climbed into her face, but Patricia was too happy to be acutely embarrassed. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said lamely. “I wasn’t aware you were occupied.”
To her surprise, Jared scooped her into his arms, holding her against his chest. He glanced at the two men and grinned. “Can we resume this meeting at a different time, George? And thank Lila for me, will you? It was obviously a brilliant suggestion.”
His friend chuckled. “Certainly.”
Still holding her precious letter, Patricia looped her arm around her husband’s neck as he carried her out of the room and toward the stairs. “What suggestion?” she asked curiously.
Jared, carried her past a servant who had stopped in the act of dusting a table to stare, “I wanted to give you something special. George’s wife thought you might like a love letter better than diamonds or rubies. I confess, I did not think of it myself.”
Patricia kissed his jaw. “As long as you meant it, that is all I care about.”
“Every word, though I labored like a schoolboy over it. I am not experienced at expressing my love for a woman, since I have never loved one before you.” He paused, and added dryly, “That affection, I suppose, will help me weather the occasional unpredictable escapade and public outings in your dressing gown.”
“Last evening was not my fault,” Patricia pointed out, but then admitted, “Though I suppose I could have taken a moment to slip into some clothes before coming downstairs just now. Sometimes I don’t stop to think things quite through.”
Carrying her effortlessly up the stairs, she saw her husband lift a brow. “I’ve noticed that, don’t worry.”
Nuzzling his neck, Patricia suggested softly, “You can always chastise me.”
“An appealing idea.”
Gazing up at her husband’s face, she asked quietly, “Could you say it, please?”
Shouldering his way into the bedroom, he obviously knew what she meant. “I love you, Patricia.”
