The comforting sway of the carriage caused her eyes to feel heavy, but then her attention was suddenly distracted. Jason had drawn the phaeton to a halt, and motioned to Gwendolyn to gaze ahead.
A wide meadow stretched on the right, a few sections of the still-green grass dotted with white sheep grazing contentedly upon what remained of it. To the left was a track of woodlands, dense with oaks and elms, their colors of orange, red and brown a brilliant hue. She smiled, thinking how much Emma would love to paint this pastoral picture.
Directly in the center of all this natural beauty, perched elegantly on the slight ridge, was a house. Four stories high and built of gray stone, it was not particularly majestic, but there was a solid feel to the property along with a sense of intimacy that Gwendolyn found rather comforting.
She especially liked the balcony, which stretched the entire length of the house, boasting long French windows leading out to it and she found it charming that the bottom section of the house was covered with ivy.
“What do you think?” Jason asked.
“’Tis very pretty. Do you know the owner?”
“I do.” Jason flicked the reins and drove the carriage between two stone gateposts and covered the relatively short distance across the gravel courtyard to the front door.
“Goodness, Jason, you might have warned me that we would be paying a call,” Gwendolyn admonished. She hastily checked her hair, tucking a few stray stands beneath her stylish bonnet. “I must look a fright. I would never have ridden in an open carriage if I knew we were going visiting.”
Jason said nothing. He secured the carriage horse to a wrought iron hitching post, then assisted Gwendolyn down the carriage steps, swinging her the last few inches with an arm looped around her waist. Slightly breathless, Gwendolyn accepted the arm he extended and they walked to the front door.
Jason’s knock was answered by an older man dressed in work clothes, who seemed to be expecting him.
From his outfit, Gwendolyn assumed he was the caretaker. He bowed politely, then left them standing in the foyer. Gwendolyn turned a puzzled, suspicious eye to her husband.
“My parents have very generously insisted that we continue to reside with them in their London townhouse, and have also offered us the use of the family’s ancestral home in Kent. But I thought it would be wonderful if I could whisk you away from London whenever I please.”
Jason removed his hat. “I’ve made a bid on this property in order to prevent anyone else from buying it, but will not finalize the deal unless you approve.”
She smiled and tipped her head sideways, touching her cheek to his gloved hand. “’Tis far from a hardship living with your parents. Their house is quite large; I often go days without seeing either of them.”
“Still, it would be nice to have a place of our own.”
“It would.”
“’Tis not as grand as Moorehead Manor, nor as elegant as any of the properties my parents own,” Jason said, as they began a leisurely tour of the first floor.
“Your father is an earl. I hardly expect you to compete with his wealth.”
“My allowance is generous, but needs to be supple-mented. I admit I do not have the same talent with money as my brother. Or my sister. Which is why I have asked for their advice with my investments, and I am pleased to have achieved some early success.”
She turned her head slowly, taking in all the elegant, refined details of the house’s interior. “You have been very successful, indeed, if we can afford to buy this place.”
“I have done well. And plan to do even better.” He smiled, tiny lines fanning in the corners of his eyes.
“Many of the furnishing are also for sale. I thought it might be easier if we purchase some items already here and fill in the rest as we need.”
Gwendolyn agreed. If they decided to buy the house, she would want to keep the large mirrors strategically placed throughout the rooms, enhancing the sense of light and space. The downstairs drawing room, which was decorated in tasteful shades of cream and pale gold, with delicate furnishings, also contained items that should be seriously considered.
Gwendolyn stared down at the patterned Aubusson carpet which covered the polished oak floor, the colors reminding her of the carpet in her chambers at the townhouse. In fact, not only the colors, but the pattern was nearly the same.
Her breath quickened with the sensual memory created last night when her overly eager husband had been too aroused to make it to the bed. Instead, they had ended up on the floor, sprawled half-naked on top of each other, Jason’s clever hands and sensual mouth creating another earthshaking sexual experience for them both.
“I should like to keep the carpet,” she decided.
“The carpet?”
She gave him a clever smile, waiting for him to catch her meaning, to understand why among all these lovely antiques she had singled out this particular item.
“It reminds me of the carpet in my chambers at the townhouse,” she prompted.
He glanced down, puzzled, then his lips curved in a sensual smile as he made the connection. “I will pay whatever price they want.”
“Thank you.”
“Anything to please my lovely wife.”
They climbed the stairs to the third floor and began inspecting the bedchambers. Their footsteps echoed loudly as they walked the hardwood floors, as these rooms were unfurnished.
“It all seems to be in very good condition. How many rooms?” Gwendolyn asked as they entered a corner suite, which she decided would be perfect for their bedchamber.
“I didn’t ask. Thirty, I think.”
“How many bedchambers?”
“Eight? No, maybe ten? I don’t recall. We can count them now if you’d like.” He stepped into the hallway, glancing left, then right. “One thing I specifically remember is a large nursery on the top floor.”
Gwendolyn bowed her head. Her menses had come early last week and she had been sorely disappointed.
With as much time as they spent making love she thought for sure she would be pregnant. More than anything she wanted to have Jason’s child. “Regretfully, we have no need of a nursery just yet.”
“My God, I am an insensitive ass.” Jason rushed forward to take her in his arms. “There is nothing that would bring me greater joy than to see you bear my child. But I do not mind waiting a little while. I’m still learning how to be a husband.”
“You will be a wonderful father.”
“But first, I must make you a mother. A task I find more than delightful.”
She relaxed into his warmth, breathing in the familiar scent of his skin, reveling in how good it felt to be held and comforted by the man she loved. “I really do want your child. Our child.”
She sighed and kissed the edge of his jaw, then walked to the window and gazed out at the now dormant gardens below. With effort, she closed her mind to her doubts and fears and allowed herself to dream. With Jason’s love, anything, everything was possible.
“Shall we work on it now? Making you a mother?”
Gwendolyn turned her head and he gave her a dark grin that sent chills all over her body. It was a look she understood very well.
“There is no bed,” she whispered, moving out of reach.
“No bed,” he repeated, following after her.
“The floor looks none too clean, either,” she said, licking her dry lips. “And rather hard.”
“Very hard,” he agreed, his voice deep and gravelly.
“The windows,” she gulped. “They have no curtains.”
“I like the sunlight flooding the chamber. All the better to see your lovely body.”
“There are servants about. Anyone could see us!”
“Only the caretaker and his wife. The area is fairly isolated, but honestly, Gwendolyn, I don’t care. You are my wife. I love you. I adore you. I burn for you.” His eyes glittered with temptation.
“Jason, please.”
He threw off his coat and jacket, t
hen loosened his cravat. “You knew I was a rogue when I married you. Remember, I warned you?”
“Yes, everyone warned me what a sinful man I was marrying.”
He stopped suddenly. “Everyone?”
“Yes. Even your mother.”
“Smart woman.”
“Indeed.” An irrepressible giggle bubbled in Gwendolyn’s throat, but it vanished when she caught the hot look of unabashed lust in Jason’s eyes. She felt as if he could devour her in one bite. He kept advancing and she kept retreating, stopping only when her back hit the wall. “Really, Jason—”
“Are we going to buy the house?”
Confused, she shook her head, her mind unable to focus on anything except the passion and love in his beautiful green eyes. “What?”
“The house, my love? Shall I buy it for you?” His sultry gaze captured hers, enticing her with the promise of sinful pleasure.
“Yes, please.”
“Splendid. Then we must make it our own. Right now.”
Jason covered the remaining ground between them in a split second, his deep kiss capturing the final protest she tried to utter. Heated sensations began to burn through her body like molten rock, hot, then cold, as she waited anxiously for his touch.
Her hand gripped his shoulders and she shifted to cup his nape, to let him know she approved. He broke the kiss and she exhaled, her breath tight and shaky.
He rested his jaw upon the top of her head as she pressed soft, arousing kisses through the fine linen of his shirt upon his shoulder, then his chest.
“Easy,” he breathed against her ear, as he slowly ground his hips against her belly so that his stiff arousal rubbed the tender mound of her womanhood. “I’m ready to explode.”
“Jason.” Gwendolyn moistened her lips, struggling for breath. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his throat, to a patch of skin left bare by his loosened cravat.
He reached down, slid his hand beneath her skirts, tracing delicate circles on her stomach, then moving lower still, slipping under her drawers, between her thighs to touch her intimately.
“You are already wet,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire.
“That happened the moment you smiled so wickedly at me,” she answered, rotating her hips in rhythm with his caresses.
His eyes danced wickedly while his fingers continued to tease. Then he sank to his knees before her and lifted her gown, caressing her legs and upper thighs. “You are so damn beautiful,” he murmured.
Gwendolyn’s throat tightened. Her fingers closed over the edge of her gown and she lifted it higher, past her thighs and hips, holding it with damp palms at her waist.
Jason needed no further encouragement. She could feel the silk tearing as he ripped away her undergarments. The cool breeze on her now-naked limbs made her shiver with excitement. He parted her swollen flesh gently with his fingers and then his mouth, warm and moist, closed over her essence.
She cried out, her knees weakening, but he held her in place, his tongue moving faster, delving deeper. “You are a wicked man, Jason Barrington,” she panted.
He answered her with a firm stroke of his tongue, moving it in tight circles around the hooded bud that lay hidden under her nest of curls. A wave of passion broke across her and she gasped, thrusting her hips forward.
Jason stood, fumbled with the button on his breeches, ripping at them with obvious urgency, his eyes never leaving hers. Anticipation shivered down Gwendolyn’s spine. Then the rigid length of his erection sprang free.
His arm locked around her waist and crushed her to his chest and heavily muscled thighs. She arched in response and he pressed her against the wall, lifting her off her feet.
Her lungs seized and a sharp gasp strangled the back of her throat as he hoisted her higher, spread her thighs wide and stepped between them. Clutching at his shoulders, Gwendolyn clasped her legs about him and drew him forward.
He bent his head to bite a most sensitive spot on her neck the exact moment his erect penis slid inside her.
She moaned, her body feeling heavy and full.
“You are mine,” he murmured against her ear.
“Always,” she answered.
Slow and controlled, he withdrew, then filled her again inch by inch. He repeated this sensual torture again and again until she was filled with the raw need and love and explosive passion that only Jason could invoke.
Her stomach muscles shivered, contracting as she felt him deep, so deep inside. Taking her wrists, he pinned her arms wide against the wall, holding her solidly captive while he thrust into her.
Her body eagerly welcomed him, as the sensations continued to build, the tantalizing ripples of desire overwhelming her. She was aware of nothing but Jason, of his scent, his strength, his love and desire. Gwendolyn lifted her hips higher as she felt her release nearing the surface, letting out a strangled cry as she climaxed.
Jason answered her by increasing the tempo of his thrusts and she wallowed in the sensation of feeling his seed flooding her womb, rejoicing in the deep, soul-searing contentment that always followed this extraordinary intimacy.
Trembling and clinging, they remained joined together for several moments, each too exhausted to move. Jason leaned on his elbows against the door, his head bent forward, touching Gwendolyn’s cheek. His harsh breathing rang in her ears; his heart thudded hard against her fingertips.
Slowly, Gwendolyn moved her legs to the ground, attempting to stand. Her knees weakened and she collapsed, but Jason caught and held her tight against his chest, laughing quietly.
“Isn’t this a fantastic house?” he asked. “I think we should make this room our bedchamber. I believe it will bring us good luck. And many babies.”
He sank to the floor and settled Gwendolyn on his lap, pulling her skirts into place, while leaving his breeches indecently opened.
“Dear Lord,” Gwendolyn squeaked. “We are scandalous. Not only did we lose control in the middle of the day, against a wall, in a strange house, but you were wearing your boots and I was wearing my bonnet.”
“It was bloody marvelous.” He pressed his lips to her damp brow. “Next time, we shall make love with me in my boots and you wearing only your bonnet.”
She laughed, scandalized anew. Life with Jason would always be a whirlwind, but given a choice, she would not have it any other way. Her heart filled with joy, contentment and love, Gwendolyn turned once more into the warmth of his solid embrace.
About the Author
Adrienne Basso lives with her family in New Jersey.
She is the author of eight Zebra historical romances and is currently working on her next. Adrienne loves to hear from readers and you may write to her c/o Zebra Books.
Please include a self-addressed stamped envelope if you wish a response.
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 2008 by Adrienne Basso
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ISBN: 1-4201-0525-6
How to Enjoy a Scandal Page 30
