by Laura Landon
Touching him caused a thousand fiery shooting stars to soar through her body, igniting a strange heat that swelled and burned deep in her stomach. Touching him while he slept caused a myriad of confusing sensations. She had never touched a man before. She could not believe the feel of his flesh against hers could cause such intense heat to spread to every part of her body.
Jessica lifted her hand from Simon’s face, then moved it lower, to the dark wisps of hair that covered his chest. How many times had she stared at that bronzed triangle peeking out beneath his shirt, wanting to touch it? More than she cared to remember.
Several trembling breaths later, Jessica pressed her hand against his chest again. With deliberate caution, she slowly moved her fingers upward, resting the pads of her two fingers in the hollow of his neck, feeling the steady beating of his heart.
She lightly skimmed her hands across the hard lines of his shoulders and down the bulging muscles of his arms. He was beautiful to look upon. Her hand finally rested atop his hand lying fat on the covers.
She compared his dark skin to her pale flesh, then shifted her hand beneath his. Palm to palm, flesh to flesh, warmth radiating warmth. She twined her fingers within his and marveled at the feel of him. His mammoth grasp dwarfed her smaller one, and a strange and powerful strength seeped through her body. A strength she’d never felt before. A force she didn’t want to be without.
He moved, tossing his head to the side, holding her hand in a crushing grip. “Sarai? Sarai! Oh Lord, no.”
“Shh,” she whispered in his ear, pressing her cheek against his face. “Everything’s all right, Simon. Everything’s fine.”
He relaxed beneath her, his grip on her hand loosening, his harsh breathing slowing. For a little while, he was at peace.
Jessica bathed his face and chest again and then sat on the edge of the bed, her slippered feet tucked beneath her to keep them warm and Simon’s hand nestled in her lap because she could not let go of him. She stared into the rigid contours of his face. He was indeed incredible. And asleep he did not seem nearly so angry with her. Not nearly so disappointed in her.
She brought his fingers to her mouth and pressed her lips to his flesh, remembering the one kiss they’d shared before.
“Cold…so…cold.”
He shivered violently, and Jessica tucked the covers closer around him. She had to keep him warm. Jessica hesitated, then stretched out beside him and held his hand to her breast while he slept.
The sun was high in the sky when she opened her eyes. A heavy blue blanket had been draped across them both, and Simon’s arm was wrapped around her shoulder holding her close. Her head rested upon his chest in a most unseemly fashion while her hand angled down over his bare stomach. The steady rise and fall of his chest soothed her entire body.
Jessica cautiously slid from the bed, making sure not to disturb him, then tucked the covers back around him. She placed her hand on his forehead and sighed with relief when she found it cool to her touch. When she turned, she saw Sanjay sitting in the corner, watching her. She put her finger to her lips and tiptoed to the door.
“I think he will be all right now, Sanjay.”
“Missy very brave. Demon fever very strong this time. I am very glad you were not afraid. The master had much need of you. Even if he did not really know you were here.”
“I must go,” she said, facing the dark-skinned man. There was much understanding in his eyes—too much understanding. “Come for me if you need anything.”
“Yes, missy. And for this time we will not let the master know you were here.”
Jessica shook her head. “There is no need for him to know.”
She took a deep breath and quickly went back to her room. She would never let Simon know she had seen his sickness. He was so proud; he would not want to know she’d seen him like that. Nor would he want to know she’d slept beside him and held him with such familiarity. That would be equally as embarrassing. For them both.
Chapter 9
Jessica placed the light peach-patterned chiffon sample next to the willow-green silk and stood back. No. It still wasn’t right. It needed more color.
She threw the material on a growing pile of discarded samples and reached for a scrap of emerald-green satin. After laying the fabrics next to each other, she stepped back to see the results. An unexpected burst of excitement raced through her body. Yes. Oh yes! The familiar rush of elation she felt whenever she completed that perfect design or found that perfect match made her want to dance around the room.
With quick steps she raced to her cluttered work desk and searched for a charcoal pencil. She shoved the design she’d been working onto the floor and began again. The dress was all wrong. The skirt too narrow and plain. It needed to be more elegant. More voluminous. She outlined the shape. Rounder. Fuller. At least three flounces. No, four. A foot deep, one layered atop the next.
Jessica drew the lines of each layer. Each flounce would be trimmed with yards of the loosely rolled peach chiffon hung in soft scallops and gathered at one-foot intervals. Each tuck would then be fastened with a large rosette made from the emerald-green satin and accented with deep maroon tufts around each flower.
The skirt alone would require at least one hundred and fifty of the smaller flowers, three inches in diameter. No, four. And the bodice…
Oh, the bodice. Jessica sketched the tiny waist made to look even smaller by the full gathers of the skirt, then drew the lines upward. The shoulders would be bare. A décolletage so low and daring it would turn every eye in the room. A covering of the loosely rolled peach chiffon would follow the top of the gown, barely concealing the rise of creamy flesh. And the center of the bodice would dip lower still.
A large emerald-green rosette would adorn the front of the gown, making the dip between the breasts a focal point that could not be ignored. A matching flower would be placed in the slight V at the waist and another in the back.
Jessica couldn’t sketch the design fast enough. She showed each tuck and gather with the greatest precision and outlined each decorative rosette with infinite detail.
The Duchess of Hawthorn had commissioned a special gown to be designed for the queen’s birthday celebration in June. Madame Lamont had given it to her when she’d been to see her five days ago. The same evening her husband had displayed his anger, then forbade her to ever leave the house without his permission.
The same night she’d cooled his fevered face and held his chilled body close to hers.
Jessica breathed a sigh and then sat back in her chair. Her gaze fell to the note on the floor, and she went to open the door. “Good morning, Martha.”
“Good afternoon, my lady. I’m afraid you’ve worked much longer than you thought. It’s already the middle of the day.”
“Oh.” Jessica looked at the sun, far past its noontime place high in the sky. “It’s almost finished,” she said, holding out the design. “What do you think?”
Jessica waited while Martha perused the gown. She saw her servant’s eyes widen and her brows rise. And then Martha beamed a broad smile.
“Oh, mistress. It’s beautiful. And with the duchess’s dark skin and golden hair it will be breathtaking.”
“It is pretty, isn’t it?” Jessica held the paper in her hands and looked at it once more. For a moment, she wondered what it might be like to be able to put on a gown this lovely and swirl around a ballroom in the arms of someone special. To be able to hear the music and the soft sighs of admiration when she walked into a room. To have every pair of eyes focus on her with a smile on their faces instead of a frown and a hushed comment no one realized she understood.
As soon as the thought materialized, Jessica dismissed it. She hadn’t had these foolish dreams since she’d been young. Before she realized how much her deafness would change her life. She couldn’t imagine why she was having them now.
“Perhaps you can bring me a tray, Martha. I still need to make a few adjustments to the sleeves.”
&nb
sp; “Begging your pardon, my lady, but the master is waiting for you in his study.”
“The master? Lord Northcote?”
Martha’s lips lifted to form a shy smile. “Yes, my lady.”
“Did he say what he wanted?”
“No, my lady. He only asked that you join him in his study at your earliest convenience.”
Jessica tried to look relaxed. “Thank you, Martha.” She tried to pretend that being summoned to her husband’s side for the first time since her marriage did not alarm her. “Tell Lord Northcote I will be right down.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Martha opened the door and left Jessica alone with her thoughts. She took a deep breath and stood, then smoothed the gathers of her green-and-white striped day dress, taking special care to tuck under the worn edges on the cuffs of her sleeves. How she wished she’d put on her navy gown, but it was too late now.
After she washed the charcoal smudges from her fingers, she patted the chignon at the back of her neck to make sure most of her hair was still in place. Only a few uncontrollable wisps outlined her face, but there was nothing she could do about that now. With a nervousness that surprised her, she walked down the stairs until she reached the study.
The door was open. Her husband stood with his back to her, his arms braced on either side of the large mullioned window. Thick, dark hair fell in deep waves just below the top of his collar at the back.
Jessica knew what it felt like to rake her fingers through his hair and push it back from his face. She also knew when he turned around there would be one errant lock that rested on his furrowed brow.
He wore no jacket. Nothing but a snow-white, loose-fitting lawn shirt that contrasted sharply with his bronzed skin, and black breeches that hugged his muscled thighs much too tightly by far. Dear God. She knew the disturbing feel of his taut, muscled flesh. An uncomfortable heat warmed her cheeks.
She hadn’t moved a muscle, but as if he sensed her presence, he turned. Their gazes locked.
His face was close shaven, displaying his handsome features just as she remembered them. His skin still seemed slightly pale, and the haunted look in his eyes gave her cause for concern, but that same familiar air of command she’d struggled against since she’d first met him was as strong as ever.
Despite her promise to remain relaxed and poised, she fidgeted nervously. She thought she’d rehearsed the way she would act and the words she would speak when they had their first conversation, but she wasn’t prepared for the expression on his face or the look in his eyes. All her well-laid plans few out the window and were replaced with a gust of warm spring air.
With a forceful show of control, she cleared her throat. “You wanted to see me?”
He didn’t take his eyes from her, and the evaluative look on his face studied her with more intensity than she could hold up under. He braced his hands behind his back, focusing his dark gaze on her, and she did not have to wonder what he thought. It was obvious from the look he gave her faded gown and disheveled hair. Her plain, high-necked day dress, noticeably out of fashion and frayed around the cuffs, suddenly seemed even worse for wear.
“Won’t you sit down,” he said, pointing to a chair facing the large oak desk where he’d met her that first night.
He took a step toward her but stopped when she pulled back. This was the room where she’d first met him, where she’d kissed him that first time.
Her cheeks grew hot when she remembered how he’d taken her in his arms and kissed her at this very spot. A wave of heat burned a path through her body. When she looked back at him, she knew from the deeper frown on his face he remembered it, too. She couldn’t sit there. She slowly walked to another chair on the other side of the desk and sat. He smiled, then walked around the desk and sat down.
“I must first apologize for neglecting you so,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I regret you have had to accustom yourself to your new home alone, but my absence was unavoidable.”
“It’s not necessary for you to explain your whereabouts to me.”
His eyebrows shot upward in an accusatory arch. “Just as you thought it was not necessary to explain your whereabouts to me the other night?”
She lifted her chin in defiance. “I did not think you would care.”
The look on his face didn’t hide his bewilderment. “You didn’t think I would care that you were out, alone, after midnight?”
“There was no reason why I thought you might.” Jessica lifted her shoulders and sat straighter.
“I see.”
She cleared her throat. “It’s no secret that we have entered into a marriage of convenience. We are both mature adults and know to expect nothing idealistic from our union. Your comings and goings are totally unrelated to me, as mine are totally unrelated to you. I therefore think it’s best to take care of all the unpleasant details right now.”
“And what details would those be, wife?”
“Schedules. Routines. Habits. Small details so we can best share the same house without inconveniencing each other in the extreme.”
His lips thinned. “Are you suggesting we make a schedule to avoid each other?”
“I’m only suggesting that we do whatever is necessary to complicate our lives as little as possible.” She looked at his tightly clenched fists resting on top of the desk and the firm set of his jaw, and couldn’t help the feeling of dread that washed over her. “Does this upset you? I thought you would approve of my idea.”
“Approve? Why would you think I would approve?”
“Because you’ve made it perfectly clear that you do not wish to have an association with me. We are both used to living our separate lives, and I see no reason to let anything change just because we are man and wife. Our marriage is, after all, little more than a business agreement.”
He slid his chair back with a surprising amount of force and shot to his feet. He placed his hands palm-down on the top of the desk. “It may be nothing more than a business arrangement to you,” he said, leaning forward, “but taking you for my wife was no little matter where I was concerned. We may never learn to care for each other in an intimate way, but you are the Countess of Northcote, and…”
He pushed himself away from her and paced before the window. She didn’t know what he was saying.
“…Do you understand?” he finished.
Her cheeks burned. “Excuse me, my lord, but unless you face me when you speak, I don’t know what you’re saying.”
He closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest. “Forgive me,” he said, facing her once more. “It will take me time to remember.”
He swallowed and began again. “I suggest we give our marriage a few days before we start making rules, wife. Perhaps we’ll find we’re perfectly suited to living together without any preconceived restrictions.”
Her gaze fell to the floor, and when she looked up he was before her.
“Martha tells me you’ve missed your noon meal. What were you doing that occupied so much of your time that you forgot to eat?”
She swallowed hard. “I…I was…looking at material for a new gown.”
His gaze few to her frayed collar and cuffs. “Good. From the looks of what I’ve seen of your gowns thus far, you are in dire need of a new wardrobe.”
Jessica’s cheeks burned even warmer as she worried her lower lip.
“I stopped by your rooms on my way down but you were not there. I thought perhaps you had gone out.”
She shook her head. “I do not go out in the daytime.”
“So I seem to remember.” He clasped his hands behind his back and lifted his shoulders. “Then it’s time we change that habit. I will give you time to eat a light lunch, and after you change into something more suitable, we will go for a ride.”
“A ride?”
“Yes. A ride in the park. In a carriage. The two of us.”
Something frightening and uncontrollable flashed like a brilliant light behind her eyes. She knew it
was raw fear. She shook her head, then lifted her chin defiantly. “No. I prefer to stay here.”
Jessica clasped onto a fold of her green-and-white skirt and twisted. “If you’d like to go for a ride, I’ll tell Hodgekiss to have the carriage sent round—”
“You misunderstand me. I wish for both of us to go for a ride together.”
She did not lower her gaze. “I’m sorry, my lord, but I’m not accustomed to going out in the afternoon.”
“Then it’s a custom we will have to change.” He jabbed his hands in the pockets of his breeches, displaying a growing irritation she couldn’t miss.
Jessica took a step closer and held her ground. “No. I do not go out in public. Besides, we cannot go for a ride now. It’s the peak hour for all of society to be out. There is no telling who we will meet.”
A wide grin of satisfaction covered his face. “I know exactly who we will meet. The cream of society’s elite, some of her most influential members. It’s time they were introduced to the Countess of Northcote.”
“I cannot!”
He leaned closer toward her. “You will. You cannot hide away forever, wife. You are now the Countess of Northcote, and I have decided it’s time you played the role.”
“But society will find out I’m deaf.”
Simon frowned. “Why do you insist on making your deafness such an issue?” he said, glaring at her.
“Because it is.”
“Only to you.”
Jessica slapped her fist against her thigh and let her words carry the fury she felt. “You will wish you had not desired to put me on display once society discovers my deafness. There will be no end to your regret when I am shunned and you are ridiculed for marrying someone who will never hear the sound of your voice.”
He brushed her fears away with a wave of his hand. “They will not find out yet. You are much too clever.”
“And you are much too foolish.”
