by Anna Small
She was so at peace she’d forgotten to blush. “You’re a very good teacher,” she whispered, tangling her fingers in his hair. “But I don’t recall a single symphony ending like this.”
“Imagine if they did. What a ruckus it would cause at the Theatre Royal.”
She stretched languorously, relishing the crisp, wiry hairs on his chest chafing her tender skin. He shifted his body and released her to unbutton his breeches. A sweet, slow fire coursed through her, settling in the throbbing apex of her womanhood.
“What are you doing?” she asked faintly.
“It’s not quite over, my love,” he said with a wicked grin. He indicated the band at his waist. “I’m afraid I’m no good at this, one-handed. Would you mind…?”
Her jaw dropped open, and she closed it with a click. “There’s more?”
She knew there was more. Of course, there was more! Her sisters had hinted with plenty of sly smiles, but Jane hadn’t really understood what they meant. Animals coupled, and people obviously did, or else the world would be empty. Though she knew the biblical version of what was going to happen, she’d never thought she would actually be in this particular situation. It was both intimidating and exciting.
The insistent pressure of his arousal had never abated and seemed to grow the more they fumbled with his breeches. She was grateful for the solitary glow of the fire, which cast only a dim light, so he would not notice her rampant blushing.
“If just now was the crescendo, then we’re about to experience the entire orchestral masterpiece. It should be even more magnificent than my own composition, and you have assured me on numerous occasions I am your favorite composer.”
She was too nervous to laugh. “Will it…does it…”
“I will never hurt you,” he whispered, so earnestly, she knew he spoke the truth. “Do you trust me?” She nodded. “Good. Then, please help me out of these blasted things before I burst.”
She giggled, chiding herself for ever doubting. Her sisters seemed so happy in their marriages. Her heart raced with renewed excitement. Finally, she would experience such bliss as theirs.
A log collapsed on the fire, illuminating the room with a pale yellow glow. They both fought his buttons, which were now too tight to maneuver. With a light curse, he sprang from the bed and seized the cheese knife. While she giggled hysterically into the quilt, he brandished the knife like a pirate and cut the tapes on the back of his waistband, freeing himself.
He was magnificent. His tawny skin burned with a golden glow in the firelight. A mat of dark hair covered his chest, descending in a narrow trail to his navel, until…
Her knees turned to jelly again. Pitted scars of various sizes and depths dotted his left thigh and abdomen, the remnant souvenirs of the battle which had cost him his hand. One especially vivid scar cut a long, angry slash from his hip to his groin, disappearing in the thatch of curly black hair surrounding his arousal.
Tears misted her eyes. She opened her arms, and he came to her, sliding beneath the quilt and embracing her gently. He was now the hesitant one. She realized why he’d wanted to postpone their consummation. It had all been a ruse to avoid this inevitable moment.
“Does it hurt?” she asked, seeking him beneath the counterpane and closing her fingers softly around him.
He stroked her breast lightly, his lips on her forehead. She felt him shake his head. His heartbeat thudded against her chest, and she increased the pressure of her hand. He moaned, and his flesh quivered against her palm.
“I think it will be all right.” His gaze met hers, and she saw the sparkle she loved so well in his dark eyes. “As long as you’re gentle with me, countess.”
It felt natural to wrap her legs around him and clasp him in her arms. His shoulders were too broad to span, so she held him around the neck, watching the flickering firelight on his swarthy face. His eyes glimmered in the darkness, the lids hooded and shadowed. He probed between her legs, and she arched her back to meet him. He groaned softly as he entered her, kissing her soundly as their bodies joined.
Her trembling ceased. Brilliant, sharp heat filled her being and vanished just as quickly. She ran her hands over his face, exploring the sharp cheekbones, the soft, pouting mouth, his hard jaw. His breath came in short gasps.
“I haven’t felt like this, not since…”
Her body tightened around his, and he gasped through his teeth. She did it once more, crying out as another thrust, harder than the last, rocked her into a delirious spasm. She raked his shoulders with her nails but stopped abruptly, patting his injured skin only to do it again while the next rolling wave blocked out everything else in the world.
She couldn’t move. She held him with weak, useless arms while he kissed her throat and mouth, plunging his tongue between her lips while his body slid over hers in increasing thrusts. A few minutes later, he gasped her name and sank heavily onto her.
“I didn’t know,” she said, then gave into relieved tears of happiness. He fell on his side, taking her with him, their bodies still joined. She was surprised to realize he shook with stifled laughter.
“Oh, Jane. You are full of surprises.” He tilted her chin to possess her mouth again.
She ran her fingertip over his full bottom lip. “I was so worried about…about pleasing you, and then I forgot.”
He chuckled. “Let it always be so.” In the glowing firelight, his face was dark but still handsome. Curling tendrils of black hair clung damply to his forehead. His left arm twitched, and she moved away.
“I don’t want to hurt you by lying on your arm.”
He sat up and flexed the torn muscles, and rubbed the stump idly. “To tell the truth, I haven’t thought about it since you kissed me.”
“Then I shall always have to kiss you.”
“I like how you can be shy with me one moment, and an unleashed vixen the next. Perhaps you will stop blushing after two years married to me.”
She laughed with him, though her face burned. She’d most definitely lost all semblance of modesty in the last half hour. “I feel as if I’ve known you my whole life.”
His humor faded as he stretched out to lie beside her again.
“Forty years from now,” he whispered, twining his fingers around a lock of her hair, “when I’m a feeble old man, with a long gray beard, I’ll remind you of how much you loved me at this very moment, and you won’t believe me.”
She kissed the cleft in the center of his collarbone. Already, renewed passion grew between them. She draped her leg over his.
“I will believe you,” she replied, closing her eyes as she dissolved into the private world they’d created.
Chapter Twenty-One
The melodious patter of rain on the carriage roof had lulled them both into a stupor. Frederick drew the rug over her knees.
“Not too much longer, my love. We’ll be able to rest today, but I’ll be gone tomorrow, I’m afraid. Henry left a lot of unfinished business, and I must contend with our seat in Parliament.”
“Will you be gone for very long?”
Their eventual separation was difficult to acknowledge after sharing a perfect night. They hadn’t slept much, alternating between talking and making love until daybreak. With his brother’s recent death, she hadn’t expected a honeymoon, but she’d hoped for at least a few days together.
“I’ll try to leave what I can to Akers, my solicitor. I’m sure you’ll find plenty to do with London at your doorstep. And there’s Alice, of course. You and she will become great friends.”
Not wanting him to think she needed to be fussed over, she put on a cheerful outlook. “I cannot wait to meet her.” She sounded more sincere than she felt. His sister-in-law had been a countess for several years and, no doubt, was a fine and elegant lady. Jane studied her fingernails. She’d bitten them to the ends despite her mother’s application of bitters.
Weston and her parents’ cozy house seemed so far away. Amelia was preparing for her new baby, and Rosalind and
Mr. Shelbourne were hardly ever at home, preferring to travel and visit their many friends. Jane suddenly longed for the old familiar ways: waking up before her family so she could practice her music in peace, and taking long walks to the village with her sisters.
Now, those days were gone. London loomed ahead, and she stifled a shudder at the smoky fog in the distance and the general sprawl of the place.
She closed the curtain and settled against him. He placed her hand on his knee and covered it with his hand as if he could press her flesh into him. A flush of heat suffused her body. Misty memories of the night before played through her mind in a haze of whispers and shadows, caresses and kisses. She blinked out of her reverie, returning his smile when she met his amused gaze.
“You appear tired, my little bride. I hope I did not deprive you of too much sleep.”
His sensuous voice caused the hairs on the back of her neck to prickle. Two of his fingers trapped hers. She remembered how skilled he’d been with those fingers the night before and closed her eyes. His lips were warm and sweet, and they kissed all the way into the gray city.
Jane stared at the medieval buildings of the Tower as they drove by, remembering stories from her father’s history books. She gulped, rubbing her neck at the thought of what had occurred beyond the forbidding stone walls. As the new Countess of Falconbury, she might even meet the current king, who, while no Henry VIII, was still a powerful man.
She almost shook her head at the idea. Who would have thought bookworm Jane might one day be presented to the King of England?
The sights and general grandeur of London distracted her so she didn’t notice when the coach stopped. The footman opened the door and stepped back as a distinguished-looking older man took his place. He bowed crisply to Frederick.
“Welcome home, milord.” He helped Jane from the carriage step. His expression remained bland. “Your ladyship.” His watery gaze swept over her, taking in her wrinkled pelisse and loosened hair. She’d been unable to find her brush, and her hair hung down her back in an untamed sweep. The pins and ribbon from the day before had gone missing among the bedclothes.
Jane took Frederick’s offered arm, her stomach suddenly knotted up. The opulent building resembled a palace rather than a home. If she hadn’t known she was in a city, she might have been fooled into thinking she’d stepped inside a page from a fairy-tale. Frederick’s family crest hung over the main door, which was taller than two men standing on top of each other. Several servants dressed in black velvet livery lined up smartly as a regiment.
She peered into the building beyond the doors. A gilt-edged table, bigger than her mother’s dining table, was just beyond, and displayed the largest flower arrangement she’d ever seen. At least six feet tall, it featured a small lemon tree. She had to force herself to keep from gasping in awe and tried to appear as if she was used to such finery.
“What do you think of your new home?” Frederick’s jaw tightened.
Jane almost wished they could hop back into the coach. “I thought the driver made a mistake and took us to the royal court.”
A shadow moved across one of the windows. She peered to make out a face, but whoever had been there was gone.
Frederick guided her inside. “It is rather big, which is why I prefer Dornley Park. Well, time to greet the troops.”
The servants bowed or curtsied as they went past. This wasn’t what she’d expected. She’d thought they’d walk into the house, make themselves comfortable, and perhaps have a bit of refreshment. But here was Frederick, shaking hands and uttering a word here and there. She caught the murmured, miladys and milords and realized just how much her life had changed.
She was no longer Jane Brooke, from an insignificant little town in the shire. Overnight, she’d become Lady Jane Blakeney, Countess of Falconbury.
“Thank God, that’s over,” he said quietly, once they were well inside the house. He took her hand. “We’ll settle you into your rooms, and then I’ll find Alice and introduce you.”
She nodded assent, terrified to speak in the grand hall with the eyes of the servants on her back. How she wished she’d changed her clothes, but there wasn’t time. They’d stayed so long in bed they’d almost missed the last coach into town. Remembering her sister’s final words helped to calm her. She was as good as anyone else, Rosalind had said, and need not apologize to anyone.
They ascended the magnificent staircase, which could easily accommodate ten people walking abreast. She wanted to pause at every painting above the balustrade, recognizing some of the artists. A flush of perspiration irritated her. It was a little alarming to find great works of art in a private home.
Frederick ignored it all and spoke of his plans for the evening and the next day. Resolving to study the paintings and statuary in the gallery later, she looked over her shoulder and faced forward again just as quickly. A few of the servants were watching her.
Blushing, she walked with Frederick down a thickly carpeted gallery and past several closed doors until they came to the end.
“This is your chamber, my dear. And remember, it’s only for a few months. We’ll be in our new home before you know it.”
She forced a smile. “I can’t wait to see it.”
“I know.” He kissed her forehead, his eyes warm and understanding. “It’s never been comfortable here for me, either. This has always been Henry and Alice’s house, but belongs to us now.”
He opened the door, and they stepped into a lavishly decorated bedchamber. At first, she thought he’d shown her into an enormous drawing room. Dominating the room was a bed hung with light blue velvet curtains embroidered with cream-colored roses. A fireplace painted with a depiction of the Garden of Eden was against another wall, and the fire crackled reassuringly. Blue velvet curtains hung open at the windows, revealing a glorious view of the private park behind.
“I chose this room especially for you.” He shrugged. “I know it is rather ornate for your tastes, but it is the least extravagant of them all.”
Jane found her voice. “It’s very lovely, Frederick. I never dreamt of such a room.”
“The rooms at Dornley Park are smaller, and much simpler. But you can decorate this any way you see fit.”
“It’s fine the way it is. I like everything about the house, because it is yours.”
He tapped her nose lightly with his fingertip. “Our house.” He led her to a painted panel, which depicted a group of half-naked maidens serenaded by chubby cupids. “Now, through here…”
Jane wondered why he was reaching for one of the cupid’s legs until she noticed a doorknob cleverly depicted in the painting as a dimple on one pudgy knee. The panel swung open, revealing another bedroom with similar décor, only more masculine. Instead of embroidered roses, the blue velvet curtains were unadorned.
“This is my chamber, which you are more than welcome to visit any time you like.”
She hugged his waist and pressed her cheek against his coat for a moment. “It’s wonderful, Frederick. I’m so happy you’ll be close by.”
“Close by?” He pretended to gasp in surprise. “I intend to be at your side so often you’ll be ill at the sight of me.”
Laughing at the impossible notion, she allowed him to escort her through yet another door. She could not contain her squeal of delight. An intricately detailed pianoforte was situated in the center of the salon, with two stacks of music on the wide, thickly padded bench.
“As I recall, Mrs. Blakeney,” he murmured, his lips against her hair, “You do enjoy playing in the wee hours of the morning. Now, you won’t have to creep through the corridors, afraid your father will catch you with your teacher.”
Standing on the tips of her toes, she kissed him soundly. She almost stumbled to the pianoforte in her excitement and shuffled through the assorted music, which she sensed he’d chosen especially for her.
“And when I am at Parliament or attending some other tedious duty my title requires of me, you may have a master come t
o the house for instruction. Mrs. Fowler, the housekeeper, will arrange it.”
Running her hands over the carved lid, she searched for the right words to thank him, but mere words could never convey her sentiment. How could she thank him for the promise of a happy future, filled with love and goodness? Only a year before was she content to remain in her parents’ house, with no thought beyond what vegetables to grow in the garden next year, or if the doctor wanted her.
She held his hand to her lips and leaned into his arms when he embraced her. A moment later, a discreet knock sounded at the door. They turned as one, and Frederick waved the servant inside the room. He handed Frederick a note.
“I must apologize, my love, and leave you for a while. An important bill is up for the vote tomorrow, and my committee needs me. I shan’t be too late.” He looked relieved when she smiled, trying to hide her disappointment. “I shall be home for supper. In the meantime, you can explore the house. It will probably take you a month until you can find your way without getting lost.” He checked his pocket watch. “Alice should be here, somewhere. She may be a trifle distracted due to her grief. Just be patient with her.”
She embraced him quickly. “I will find her and introduce myself. I’m sure we will get on well.”
He kissed her goodbye and was gone. The overwhelming sense of awe returned. She was quite alone.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Before Jane could decide what to do first, a timid knock sounded at the door. A housemaid entered and curtsied. Jane almost curtsied back but caught herself.
“Milord asked me to help you settle in.”
“Thank you. I can use your help.” Jane started unbuttoning her pelisse, but the maid stepped forward.
“Allow me, milady.” Her quiet voice and manner was soothing. She brushed Jane’s hands aside to finish unbuttoning her pelisse. She took it along with her bonnet through another door into a room as big as her mother’s drawing room. Jane gaped at the large wardrobes and chests against the walls. She opened one and could not contain a loud gasp. Several gowns of many colors and fabrics hung neatly inside. Silk flowers and ribbons adorned some of them, while others had long trains pinned up on hooks on the back wall.
