by Jenna Jaxon
“Father. He holds my purse strings for eight months, so he has just reminded me.” Jemmy growled and his face darkened. “My funds are in trust until I’m thirty.” He shot his brother a piercing look. “The same is true for your portion, I believe?”
“Gads.” Hal’s ruddy face paled. “I’d thought the age was twenty-five. I’d banked on tapping into that lot next year. I’ll send to Connors in the morning to find out the lay of the land.” He rubbed his eyes and groaned. “If it’s to be five more years of facing down Father, I may just enter the church and be done with it.”
Jemmy snorted. “You’ll become a clergyman when pigs fly in the air with their tails forward.”
A grin split Hal’s face. “The ‘tails forward’ part is the sticking point, I’ll grant you.”
Quickly sobering, Jemmy chaffed her hand. “What he has done is tie my hands where Elizabeth is concerned.”
The caress was sweet, but his words brought the reality of their situation sharply into focus. They truly might not be able to marry in time for the child to be born legitimately. Her stomach dropped with sickening force.
“Defy the old curmudgeon and marry anyway.” Hal’s eyes sparkled, as if spoiling for a fight not his own.
“Easier said than done.” Jemmy downed the rest of his wine and wiped his lips on the back of his hand. “How would we live? With Elizabeth’s parents? They’d not want their daughter married to a man who is almost destitute. What would that say about me as a provider for her and her children? She has two small children who must be cared for. Not to mention we would not want to live in their pockets.” Jemmy signaled the footman for more wine.
“I will be no help at all,” Elizabeth said quietly. She’d been mulling over her financial situation as well and discovered it to be bleak as a cold midwinter’s day. “I shall lose my widow’s pension from my late husband when I marry. It is not much, but it has made a deal of difference to my limited independence.” She toyed with her glass but refused the offer of more wine. She needed her wits about her from now on.
“Then I propose we drink some more.” Hal grabbed the bottle from the astonished footman and shooed him away. “Let’s get foxed and drown our sorrows.”
“I fear I must retire, gentlemen.” Elizabeth rose, glad to be moving at last. “We have an early start and a long journey tomorrow.”
The men catapulted to their feet, Jemmy grasping her arm as if it were a lifeline. “Allow me to escort you to your chamber, my love.” He turned to Hal. “Don’t wait for me, brother. Saying good night to this lovely lady will likely take some time.”
“Huh.” Hal grunted. “More wine for me, then.”
“Good night, Hal.” Elizabeth squeezed his hand. “I am truly glad to have met you.”
“I hope to see you at your wedding, Elizabeth.”
She smiled wanly, doubting now it would ever take place.
“Good evening, brother.” Jemmy called as he followed her out the door. “That’s one less hurdle. Hal likes you.”
“I wish it had been as easy with your father.” Elizabeth swallowed hard, fighting to keep her composure. Perhaps she should trust that Jemmy would devise some remedy for this catastrophe that they had not already come up with. If she thought any more about the possibility of them having to part, or worse, having to marry someone else, she wanted to dissolve into a puddle of tears. Let her retire to water her pillow alone. Alone. Surreptitiously she touched her belly. It was ironic that she actually was not.
* * *
Elizabeth sat at the carved ebony vanity table, brushing her hair, trying to think of anything other than the possibility that Jemmy might no longer be in her life. Though she had been slow to admit her feelings—too slow, if truth be told—now, faced with the stark reality that she might lose him, she finally understood the depth of her love for him. Her life, which had been devastated by the loss of Dickon, had been renewed slowly but surely by Jemmy’s persistent pursuit of her—a decorous chase that had culminated in complete capitulation by his prey. To now think of life without him was abhorrent.
She pulled the brush though her hair briskly, the sting on her scalp invigorating.
Yes, she loved him. Deny it thought she might try, she loved Jemmy with a depth that astonished her. Just the thought of being with him sent shivers and tingles down her spine. His warm smile, his merry disposition, his understanding and forgiving nature, and his devotion to his sister made him the perfect gentleman, in her estimation. Very similar to, yet very different from Dickon. Perhaps the one man who could take his place in her heart, the one other man she could love for the rest of her life.
To think one embittered old man could take him from her wasn’t to be borne. She banged the brush on the table and stood, ready to do battle like a legendary shield maiden, but not quite sure how to meet the enemy.
A sudden grating noise behind her made her spin around to face the bed. A dark wall panel next to it shivered, as if coming to life. She blinked, unsure if her eyes were playing tricks on her or if this was actually happening. A scene from The Monk, when a ghost materialized before the heroine, flitted through her mind, and she backed up a step at a time until she was pressed against the vanity chair. Dear Lord, what was going on?
Grabbing the candlestick off the table, heart racing like a runaway carriage, she approached the wall. The grating sound had stopped, but a low hum seemed to be coming from behind the panel. She touched the smooth, cool wood, seemingly just like all the others around the room.
Sudden vibration beneath her fingertips made her jump back. The grating noise resumed, louder than before, and with a loud “pop,” the panel swung open into the chamber.
Elizabeth screamed as Jemmy emerged into her room, bedaubed with cobwebs over the shoulders of his dressing gown.
“Jemmy?” Confusion swirled around her head as she peered first at him, then into the inky black recess behind the panel. “What . . . what is going on?”
Instead of answering her, he set his candlestick down, grasped her face, and kissed her. His warm, full lips pressed her passionately, his tongue immediately seeking access.
Melting against him as her tension drained away, she gladly opened her mouth to welcome him in. As though his touch gave her sudden strength, she pressed her own attack, wrapping her arms around his neck and invading his mouth in return.
He groaned, clasping her bottom, pulling her into him until she could feel his hardness pressing into her. Tighter and tighter they strained into each other until she could not breathe and reluctantly broke the kiss, panting.
Leaning his forehead against hers, he whispered breathlessly, “If that is the welcome I will get, I vow I will install a secret passageway in the master’s chamber on each estate we own when we are wed.” He chuckled and kissed the tip of her nose. “I didn’t frighten you too badly with my grand entrance, did I?”
Still out of breath, Elizabeth stepped back, wobbling just a bit. “You did give me quite a start, Jemmy. All I could think of was that wretched book The Monk, with its castles and secret passages and ghosts.” She peered around him at the black hole in the wall. A stale, musty smell crept from its depths. “Is this truly a secret passage?”
He grinned and gathered her into his arms. “It truly is. Georgina and I discovered this loose panel when we were young. We explored behind it—she was fearless, as you may have already guessed, even at age seven—and if you thread your way through the timbers, you arrive at the back wall of my chamber, just to the side of the wardrobe. It took us weeks to carve a hole big enough for me to slip through and to cut the paneling and disguise it, but we managed to make a true secret passageway so we could visit one another when we had been sent to bed or locked up as punishment.”
“You were locked in your room?” Appalled, Elizabeth hugged him more fiercely.
“I think you can see that my father’s word was not to be gainsaid. Locked in your room with no supper and no breakfast was the standard penance. Of course,
once we created this passageway, Georgie would sneak food up to me.” He shook his head and held her away from him. “We, however, will never resort to such punishment with our little ones, will we?”
Elizabeth’s heart sank. “Jemmy, don’t speak of what will likely never be.”
“Oh, it will come to pass, my love.” Gently, he placed his hand on her stomach and looked deeply into her eyes. “Our child is already on the way. Do you think I will allow anyone to keep him or her from bearing my name?” The firm resolve in his voice gave her sudden hope. “Do you honestly believe I would allow an old tyrant to lock me in a financial prison and force me to abandon you? You underestimate me, my dear.” He kissed her lips again. “I am quite as stubborn as Father, and I have something to fight for that he does not. Love.”
“I so want to believe that, Jemmy, I truly do.” She laced their fingers together, binding them as they should be forever and ever. “But if we wed without his consent, how will we live?”
“I will go to my mother’s family. My grandfather is still alive, though very frail the last I heard. Still, I don’t think he will deny my request if he knows the cause.”
“What will you ask of him?”
“A loan of a modest amount. Enough to keep us safe and happy in a small home in London until my inheritance is truly mine. He would want that, I’m sure. And as soon as I reach thirty, the money will be returned to him, with interest.” He raised their hands and kissed their joined fingers. “We will need to live quietly, but we will be together.”
The crushing weight of loss slid from Elizabeth’s shoulder with an almost audible thud. Tears pricked her eyes. “That will be quite enough for me, my love.”
“Then let us celebrate our coming union.” He grinned, and his eyes flashed black with sudden desire. Pulling her by the hand, he led her, step by step, toward the tall poster bed.
“Jemmy! In your father’s house?” Scandalized and excited, Elizabeth trembled with a wave of longing to be with him once more.
“What better place to affirm our love? I admit I’d rather have you in my bed, but I don’t want to subject you to that passageway. It is a bit dusty and small. I can’t have the mother of my child crawling through the walls of her future home.” He seized her lips as he deftly drew off her wrapper. When the kiss ended, she stood naked before him; both wrapper and nightgown lay in a puddle at her feet. Eyes large as black almonds, he beheld her, and his breathing became a ragged panting. “Oh, Elizabeth. You are even lovelier than I remember.”
Desire rushed through her from her very core, radiating outward through her body. Under that hot gaze, she might burst into flame. Her own breath came short and sharp, her need to feel him inside her rising to a painful peak.
A deep shrug of his shoulders and his dark silk banyan slid to the floor, revealing his perfect, naked body in the soft candlelight. As though a Greek sculptor had made him just for her. Hard muscles in his torso, arms, and chest rippled with his labored breathing as he stepped toward her. His jutting member, long and thick and hard, could also be a piece of ancient art, though it was scalding hot as it pressed the cool flesh of her stomach.
He cupped her buttocks and lifted her onto the bed, laying her down on the crisp sheets. Running his hands along her body, trailing his fingers over her breasts, stomach, through the thicket that covered her sex, he ignited a fire in her soul.
She moaned with need as he slid them into her, panting aloud at the exquisite feeling of him stroking her heat, building an inferno that threatened to incinerate her before he could join with her. “Jemmy,” she cried, tugging at his head. “Now, please, all of you now.”
His fingers vanished, leaving her wanting until the hot flesh of his cock pressed against her, seeking entrance. He leaned over her, pinning her shoulders to the bed with fierce possession. “I am yours, Elizabeth,” he said, kissing her neck, making her squirm and moan anew, totally conscious of him poised at her opening.
The musky male scent of him filled her head, increased the ache between her thighs. She strained toward that heat, longing for it inside her.
“I am yours,” he repeated, his voice urgent. “Are you mine?”
“Yes, Jemmy, yes. I am yours, my love.” She almost wept with the joy of the confession. She belonged to him in every way.
With her admission, he smiled and thrust forward, filling her completely, seating himself deeply within and making them as one. “Do you trust me that we will be together as man and wife?” He rocked slightly back and forth, a tantalizing promise of more to come.
“I do,” she panted, wild with the joy of having him in her. “I do believe it, Jemmy. Yes, yes, my love.” She thrust her hips toward him as he slowly drove in and out, bringing her to the brink of that incredible pleasure she’d been longing for. Wrapping her legs around his buttocks, she encouraged him to move further within her, to go faster to reach the heaven that hovered just out of reach.
He leaned in to kiss her, fierce and hard as their bodies rocked together. When he raised his head, he stared into her eyes. “You are mine, Elizabeth. Mine forever. I pity the man who tries to keep us apart.”
“Ahh, Jemmy! Jemmy!” she cried as the rapture took her, and she flew apart, gripping him inside her over and over again.
“Mine!” he shouted as his hot seed spurted deep into her.
She sagged into the mattress, his weight pleasantly heavy on top of her. Completion was very sweet, and never so much as now, with him. With Jemmy.
Too quickly, he rolled off of her and lay beside her, his panting harsh and wonderful in her ear. Her own blood was calming, though her heart still raced. Her bones had gone on holiday. It was more than enough simply to contemplate the dark ceiling, his presence large and warm and comforting.
She snuggled against him, her buttocks pressed against his member, limp at the moment, but showing faint signs of life already. For tonight, to be here together was more than enough.
Chapter 18
Disgruntled, but trying not to show it, Jemmy joined Elizabeth in the front hall next morning as the carriage was brought around for their departure.
“I missed you at breakfast,” she murmured as Quick assisted her with her dark blue spencer.
“An early audience with Father. I’m truly sorry to have missed your company.” He adjusted his hat and offered her his arm. “Shall we?”
The journey back to Kent, while pleasant because of his nearness to Elizabeth, seemed too quiet as the day wore on, as if a pall had been cast over them. They talked of mundane pleasantries, rather than the fear most pressing to them. How were they to marry—and they must marry soon if Elizabeth was to escape ruin—without Father’s consent?
His scheme to enlist his maternal grandfather was their best course; however, it was far from certain. Jemmy and his brother and sisters had had little contact with their mother’s family all their lives. To go begging now might secure the funds they needed, but it might very well not. He hadn’t mentioned that to Elizabeth, nor would he until forced to by necessity, if it came to pass.
So he had approached his father early this morning, and the conversation turned quickly into argument. He might as well have saved himself the aggravation and breakfasted with Elizabeth. The time would have been better spent. Father simply refused to budge on his decision. And now he demanded that Jemmy escort Georgie back into the old man’s web as well. He stared out the window at the cold dead countryside, his own outlook as grim.
Elizabeth seemed to sense his mood, and they lapsed into silence, though they held hands the whole way, parting only when they stopped to change horses.
They pulled up before the columned façade of Lyttlefield Park as the afternoon shadows had just begun to lengthen across the pale marble steps of the portico.
“I will call for my carriage to be readied,” Elizabeth said, smoothing the folds of her rumpled dress. “I think I should leave immediately for London. If I can talk to my parents, they may be able to tell me what is behin
d your father’s refusal of our marriage.” Her lips trembled, cutting his heart to the quick. “The more information we have, the better our chances to overcome your father’s objections.”
“I swear it will not prevent me in the least from marrying you, my darling.” He grasped her hands and kissed them as the groom opened the carriage door.
She smiled, and his heart melted. “I pray so, my love.”
He jumped to the ground and handed her down, loath to let her go even for a moment when they were to be parted so soon. “Let me order you some tea.”
She shook her head as they entered the foyer. “I must pack immediately if I am to leave within the hour.”
“I will send it to your room with some sandwiches. You haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” He leaned closer to her, the heady feminine scent of her making him weak. “You must keep your strength up, you know.”
Her cheeks pinked prettily, though that may have just been the cold. “Thank you, my dear. That would be lovely.”
Handing Fisk their coats, he paused to soak up the blessed heat. He rubbed his hands together briskly. He could use something hot as well. “Fisk, please have some tea and sandwiches sent to both my and Mrs. Easton’s rooms. And make haste. The lady leaves in an hour.”
“Very good, my lord.” The butler handed the coats to a footman and hurried toward the kitchen.
“As I will not see you for some time, may I at least see you to your room?”
The liquid blue eyes she turned on him made his heart pound.
“Of course, you may.” She grasped his arm, and they started up the polished front stairs. “Will you come to me in London? After you take Georgina back to Blackham?”
Stunned, he stopped in mid-step. “You wish me to come to London?”
“If we are to wed, I think you should become acquainted with my parents and the children, don’t you?” Her smile held back laughter.
