The Earl of Windermere Takes a Wife (Lords of the Matrix Club #1)

by Jen YatesNZ

  Her husband; brushing her hair. Her heart wept for the joy of it.

  ‘You can’t know how I’ve longed to be able to see your hair out like this. It was always coming loose from your ribbons as a child and dancing round your head like whorls of fairy gold. But once you grew up it must always be confined, quite ruthlessly. It has been deeply painful believing I would never have the right to do this; to see this; feel it.’

  Laying aside the brush he simply drew his fingers through the thick silken strands and Jassie felt her heart trembling for what she saw on his face.

  ‘Rogan?’ she whispered.

  ‘I have so longed to love and pleasure you as you deserve, Jass. Making love can be, should be, such a beautiful thing and I want you to know that. It’s my driving force, allowing me to remain sanguine about Dom loving you. When he told me he was going to ask you to marry him, after I’d assured him I wasn’t going to, I thought at best it would mean the end of our friendship or I would have to kill him and then put an end to my own miserable existence. I couldn’t face the thought of him having you as his wife. I ask myself what has changed and I think it has to do with the fact that back then I couldn’t see past myself and what I couldn’t have, what I’d been denied. Now I’m able to see that the most important issue is you—and your happiness.

  ‘And the wondrous thing about that is, that if we achieve your happiness then we also achieve mine.—And in the process we bring a modicum of happiness to Dom who, for so long, has had to watch the woman he loves suffer after another.’

  A huge lump in Jassie’s throat made speaking difficult and as if he knew, his fingers glided up the column of her neck, trailing satin fire which also made it difficult to think. But at least it released the words she’d wanted to say.

  ‘We owe Dom so much. Perhaps we can help him find a wife—someone of his own to love.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Rogan allowed, fanning his fingers across her cheeks and following every languid movement with his eyes, ‘but love is a capricious emotion. If there had been another he could love, surely he would have found her by now.’

  Jassie’s gaze danced between the midnight glow of Rogan’s eyes and his hands, the same hands that had thrashed her to the point of bruising. They were so large, so strong, and now—so gentle. What were they talking of?—Dom—

  ‘Maybe he wasn’t really looking. Like me, maybe he just kept hoping—while there was still reason to hope.’

  ‘That you’d change your mind, you mean?’

  Jassie nodded, reaching up to cover Rogan’s hands and pull them down to cup her throat.

  ‘Possibly. But that’s something for us to think about later. I think you’re procrastinating now, keeping me talking because you’re so unsure about what comes next. And poor old Dom is sitting next door probably just as anxious!’

  ‘That I don’t believe,’ Jassie muttered. ‘I don’t believe the Duke of Wolverton would ever have felt anxiety about making love to a woman! I’m the one who is all anxiety!’

  Rogan chuckled.

  ‘You’re probably right. Come.’

  He turned her on the stool until she faced him and then drew her up into his arms and Jassie reveled in the simplicity of the act. Most couples took such intimacies as normal and yet that had never been so between her and Rogan. For so many years he’d not dared to touch her at all.

  Gliding his hands up her arms, he thumbed the hollows beneath her clavicle then cupped her face with fingers splayed across her cheeks.

  His eyes made her think of drowning, blissfully, in a midnight ocean, as he gazed steadily at her and said, ‘I love you Jassie, and my promise to you is that tonight will be about your pleasure and if my alter ego arrives to foul that promise then Dom will be there to sort it out. And I think he has his own promises to make to you.—So, are you ready?’

  He leant back, their gazes still locked and it felt as if she could see to the innermost sanctuaries of his soul. Love shone back at her.

  Love—and hope.

  Wordlessly she nodded and slipped her hand into his.

  Chapter 14

  A fire burned merrily in the grate in the Earl’s bedroom even though it was late summer and not yet really cold. Branches of candles glowed from the mantel and the tall dressers either side of the huge and ancient ancestral tester bed. Wolverton, also garbed in some sort of male dressing robe, his in a heavy bronze silk, lounged in the large leather chair before the fire, a book on his knees.

  That he was staring into the fire rather than reading could have been because the book was boring but Jassie had the impression his thoughts were deep and complicated as he dragged himself back from some distant place when Rogan spoke to him.

  This man had promised to change his rakish ways for her if she would only consent to become his wife—not once but twice. It would be his greatest joy, he’d said, for if he had her he would need no other. Lost in her own desperate dreams, Jassie had had little thought to spare then for the Duke’s pain. But the full force of it struck her now as he looked up at her and she saw that pain shimmering behind the desire in his incredibly green eyes.

  She was struck also by the beauty of the man, the perfect symmetry and autocratic strength of his long dark features, brought to life by the glowing emerald orbs that expressed so much and yet hid so much more. Framed by coal black curls just a tad longer than was fashionable, and with the wicked sabre slash down his cheek, Jassie had often thought he had the look of an aristocratic pirate.

  Her Rogan was darkly, ruggedly handsome, the epitome of male beauty in her eyes but she could not deny it was deeply flattering to be the object of desire to such a man as the Duke of Wolverton.

  ‘We’re all agreed then?’ he asked, the tone of his voice saying he was unconcerned either way but the white-knuckled clench of his hand on the spine of the book spoke otherwise as did the wide, slow smile that lit his austere features at their twin nods of assent.

  He took a moment to draw breath, lay the book aside and rise slowly from the chair. Jassie had never been more aware of his singular height as he took her hands in his and raised them both to his lips. Then he raised his head to hold her gaze.

  ‘I had a speech,’ he said, the scar distorting his cheek as he grinned ruefully down at her. ‘But—in the reality of this moment I seem to have lost it. I wanted you to know, Jass, what an honor I deem this night to be; what an honor you do me, accepting my presence in—this way. I pledge to—do what I may to bring about the happiness of two of my dearest friends.’

  Jassie blinked back the prickle of tears, bit down hard on her lip and curled her fingers tightly around Dom’s. Words were impossible. She could only hope that somewhere, someday, the Duke of Wolverton would find that perfect woman who would appreciate the true man rarely seen behind the carefully schooled cynical façade.

  ‘May I kiss you, Jassinda?’ he asked huskily.

  Her gaze flew to Rogan’s. There was nothing she wanted more at that moment but to grant the Duke’s wish but suddenly she felt as if she walked a tight rope and one misstep could mean the annihilation of all she’d gained so far. She could not deny that Dominic Beresford stirred her responses, had the power to make her desire him. She’d known that even as she’d turned down his offers of marriage. He’d made certain she was aware of that.

  But what she was uncertain of was how Rogan would react should he see her respond to Dominic. She didn’t want to lose what little she already had with him nor did she wish to jeopardize the close friendship the two men shared.

  There was a sternness about Rogan’s mouth as if a part of him did indeed object but his gaze was steady on hers, his understanding of her concern clear.

  ‘It’s all right, Jass. If you cannot respond to Dom just as openly as you respond to me this scenario really won’t work. You’ve admitted you could’ve had a satisfactory and happy marriage with him if it weren’t for what you feel for me, what I can’t question you have always felt for me, and the fact that you can respond t
o him is what makes him the perfect man to help us. Just relax and do what comes naturally. Our common goal is your happiness your—deeply carnal satisfaction.’

  Jassie blinked and Rogan smiled and for a moment she was lost in the wonder of him appearing as he’d used to be, blue eyes bright and almost dancing in anticipation, and with a long-absent air of ease about him. Could she dare believe the darkness was lifting?

  ‘Kiss the man,’ he murmured, leaning in close to press his lips to her ear. ‘I intend to indulge myself with other parts of you while he has your attention.’

  Dear God! Could she really do this? Her blood had heated several degrees since entering this room. Her mind had vanished completely and her body felt as if it were about to dissolve. If they both touched her at once—

  Rogan’s glance connected with Dom’s and suddenly Jassie realized these two had probably planned how this encounter would go and that they meant to enjoy themselves, just as they were determined she would. That realization only swelled the excitement already churning through her bloodstream.

  With a soft caress of her fingers through Rogan’s rumpled hair, Jassie finally allowed her hands to move and spread across Dom’s broad and lightly furred chest inside the gaping lapels of his robe. When he stayed absolutely still, she looked up at him and her mouth dropped open at the dark storm of desire she saw gathering in his eyes. Slowly, he settled his hands at her shoulders, caressed up the column of her neck and buried his long, tensile fingers in the mass of her hair. As his head dropped lower and the sensual mouth aimed for hers, Rogan’s hands slid beneath her arms to cover her breasts and begin a sensual kneading through her gown.

  Dom captured her soft gasp in his mouth and Rogan’s teeth nipped gently at the tender skin between neck and shoulder and all thought was suspended. Their heated, mobile mouths were organs of exquisite torture and her body, disconnected totally from her mind, became a humming instrument responding only to the expert guidance of two maestros. The duet they played over her skin was beautiful beyond description.

  Dom’s hands molded lovingly along the curves of her jaw, angling her head and holding her captive for an onslaught of lips and tongue that not only stole her breath but dragged small whimpers of need from her throat. These he devoured from her mouth transmuting them into deep purring growls that vibrated from his mouth back into hers, creating paths of lightning fire, each one leading straight to her feminine core that ached and writhed in an agony of wanting.

  Rogan, his lips hot and murmuring love and encouragement by her ear, slipped his hands inside the top of her gown and corset. Threads of flaming need arrowed to that place already burning for them both as he released her breasts so her nipples pouted between his fingertips. Her body lost all ability or desire to stay upright and her legs began to simply melt beneath her.

  ‘Oh Jass,’ Rogan murmured by her ear. ‘This is what I wanted for you. This is what I want you to feel.’

  ‘Rogan? Rogan! I don’t know—Dom!’

  Her incoherent attempts at responding were lost in a wild breath of ecstasy as Dom’s hands slid down to grasp her waist and he lowered his head to suckle greedily at one wickedly straining nipple held for his attention by Rogan’s gently kneading fingers.

  ‘Dear God!’ she whispered and her head fell back on Rogan’s shoulder. Instantly he angled for her mouth until their lips were sealed in a mutual blending of souls. At last Rogan was kissing her as she’d always wanted; his mouth, the torment of her dreams for so long, was devouring hers; his tongue—

  Dom’s noisy suckling brought the thought crashing into her passion-dazed mind that her dreams had never reached these heights.

  Rogan’s fingers were now working at the fasteners down the back of her gown as his lips nipped and sucked at hers and his wicked tongue delved to find hers and stir her already boiling blood to flash point.

  The only thought dancing lustily through her mind was ‘May this ecstasy never end’ and yet her body hungered and yearned for more, for the conquering of some unnamable pinnacle.

  As Rogan’s lips left hers and he concentrated on stripping her gown down her arms and off her body, Jassie found her voice.

  ‘Oh please,’ she whimpered. ‘I can’t bear it!—Don’t stop!—I can’t—’

  Her body threatened to sag to the floor in the wake of the dress and all that would issue from her trembling lips was, ‘Please, please, please!’

  So focused on her desperation to vocalize her needs, Jassie hadn’t registered Rogan’s body stiffening at her back and the removal of his support from hers. But when Dom’s mouth lifted abruptly away from her breast her eyes flew open to see him straightening and all his attention focused beyond her. Before either of them could move, Rogan shoved her forward into Dom and landed a resounding smack on her buttocks.

  ‘Fucking bitch! I’ll teach you—’

  In an instant Dom’s support was also withdrawn and shocked from a total nirvana of the senses, and now clad only in her corset and chemise, Jassie slumped bonelessly to sit amidst the crumpled pile of silk and lace on the floor.

  A loud slap reverberated through the room.

  The silence that followed had an eerie, suspended quality, as if all three had stopped breathing, or even thinking—and simply waited.

  Several heartbeats passed before anyone moved.

  ‘Bloody hell!’

  The soft expletive came from Rogan as he dropped abruptly to his haunches beside Jassie.

  ‘Are you all right, sweetheart?’

  Silently she reached out to caress his cheek where Dom had slapped him.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she whispered, managing to dredge up a smile to accompany the assurance. With Rogan’s cheek resting against hers, she looked up at Dom, who stood rigid with horror, staring down at them both.

  Instinctively Jassie reached her other hand up to him and as his long legs, bare beneath his robe, folded and he came down to kneel at her other side, the look of glazed horror faded from his eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he growled, ‘that I took so long to react! I thought there’d be more of a warning—and I hadn’t realized how difficult it might be to stay focused when I have the reality of you in my hands—my mouth!’

  Jassie looked from one to the other and saw a rare vulnerability in both faces and with that came the realization of her own power and responsibility. None of this would have happened if she hadn’t importuned Rogan on Neave Tor all those weeks ago. They were all three here because she was determined to have a marriage with Rogan, who’d been forced to expose his dark and bitter secret over and over, finally to this best of friends.

  And Dom had committed to helping them and though he maintained it was worth it for his chance to make love to her, she knew there’d be an emotional toll for him that none of them could truly envisage. If only because, for all his rakish tendencies, he was an honorable rake.

  It was time she actively committed to their tripartite liaison rather than passively submitting to their efforts to achieve a goal she herself had set. It was time she again found the determination and strength that had funded her proposition on Neave Tor.

  Because if she didn’t she had an uneasy feeling these two were going to weaken in their resolve just when she perceived the first hint that they would succeed. They were staring at her, both of them looking so contrite and apologetic, like small boys who’d failed yet again to please their governess. She wanted to grin and share her silly thoughts with them but shaped her face into a slight frown instead.

  ‘It worked, didn’t it?’ she demanded, glaring from one to the other.

  ‘Yes,’ Dom agreed, ‘but I should’ve stopped him before he hit you!’

  ‘This is supposed to prevent me from hurting you, Jass!’ Rogan exploded.

  ‘I’m not made of spun glass,’ she growled at them fiercely. ‘You’ve never damaged me, Rogan. You’ve never done more than give me a thorough thrashing. You only got one smack in this time before Dom stopped you. It worked! Are we t
o stop now because you two have turned lily-livered on me? Or are you both actually going to deliver on your promises to show me how a woman should be loved?’

  ‘You still want to continue?’ Dom asked, the shadows receding from his eyes.

  ‘But what if—’ Rogan began, the pall of dark despair threatening once again.

  ‘Dom smacks you again!’ Jassie interrupted. ‘And we start again. Dear God, I want you too much to allow you to stop now. I want—quite ferociously—to be naked and at the mercy of your mouths and hands and—other parts.’

  ‘Cocks,’ Rogan supplied for her. ‘As a kid you always wanted to use the correct term for things, regardless of how unsuitable it sounded on your childish lips. Remember the bull’s penis that day when we stumbled on Mr. Bracewell from Neave Farm mating one of his cows?’

  Blood rushed into Jassie’s cheeks. She’d been all of seven years old and to her young eyes the appendage had been quite startling. And as always she’d expected Philip and Rogan to explain to her what it was and why it was hanging out of the bull’s belly. Nothing loath, for by that stage they’d both been used to incessant questions and demands for all kinds of information, they’d explained the thing was called a penis and that the bull would stick it into the cow’s bottom and that’s how a calf was made. Of course there had been other questions about how the calf could live inside the cow where there was no air and more puzzling still, how it was going to get out. They had been so patient with her.

  ‘Penises then,’ she muttered, trying very hard to maintain the appearance of nonchalance and not panic as to how forward her admission of need had seemed.

  ‘Uh-uh,’ Rogan said, laughing at her and leaning forward to kiss the end of her nose. ‘That was the proper term appropriate to a very inquisitive seven year old. You’re a woman now and the more appropriate term would be ‘cocks’.’

  Suddenly Dom stood up and held out his hand to Jassie with a smile she suspected was only ever seen in a bedroom behind closed doors. When Rogan came to his feet beside them his eyes too were blazing with the blue heat from the heart of the fire.