by Lauren Smith
“Jas, do a man a favor, write Gemma and break it off,” he sneered under his breath in imitation of James’s plea all those years ago.
It had started out so simple. A favor for a friend.
“And I’m the fool who took over writing those bloody love letters,” Jasper growled in self-directed frustration.
He’d written one letter to Gemma, doing his best to imitate James’s poor handwriting, but the words to end things…well they just hadn’t come out on the page. Instead he found himself sharing details of his day, thoughts and impressions he had of the islands they’d visited, the strange lands and natives they’d encountered, the battles they’d faced. His fears, his hopes, his own dreams. And he’d signed that first letter with a single letter J. Not as James, but Jasper, the man he was. He hadn’t wanted to deceive her any more than he had to. Her response to his first letter had been almost immediate. A letter back to him found him so quickly through the post that he had to assume she’d written it the second she’d received his letter.
The Gemma he’d met through her letters had fascinated him, amused him, and changed the way he thought of Midhurst. The little girl with ginger hair had changed so much. She’d become a woman worth knowing. Her stories and descriptions of the town, the village, the countryside, everything that was so easy to forget at sea, had kept him grounded and reminded him of home. It was no longer a place he’d escaped from to live a life of adventure, but become a wonderful place of refuge for him, a sanctuary to someday return to when his service was over.
But the game was now at an end.
James had found out on their last week aboard ship that Jasper hadn’t broken off the secret engagement and that he’d continued to write to Gemma for the last ten years. James had been furious to learn that Gemma was now fully under the impression James was going to propose to her and that she’d saved herself for him and him alone. Jasper had read every letter where she’d detailed the passing London Seasons and how she’d felt a little pressured to marry, but had insisted she loved him and would wait. For James. Not him. The thought summoned a black cloud over Jasper’s thoughts, but it wasn’t going to change what he had to do tonight. He had to end it with Gemma while pretending to be James. Compromise her so that tomorrow morning when she met with James, he could discover she’d kissed another man and break it off with her forever.
Yes, it would ruin her, but Jasper had every intent of making things right, of marrying her himself. He would just have to convince her of that once the dust settled from James crying off. Jasper could wait, would wait for as long as he had to for Gemma to be his wife, his lover, his world. His only fear was that she would despise him for his deception all these years, but it was a risk he would have to take. He’d led her to believe he would marry her in his letters and he’d meant every word. If only he hadn’t hidden behind the facade of being James.
I should have confessed my identity from the start, before I wove this tangled web, but ‘tis too late now.
A bitter taste coated his tongue. Scowling, he peered through the nearest bush. He could just make out a feminine figure seated on a bench. It was a sight he’d never forget. The woman was lovely. She had a full figure, hips just the right size for a man’s hands, and the perfect indent of a narrow waist. From where he stood, he couldn’t see her front, but the twilight highlighted the riotous ginger colored waves of her hair that were escaping the nest of pins atop her head. She looked like a delicious little minx ready for a tumble into the nearest bed.
Lord, he wanted to be the man to take her to bed, to explore Gemma in a way he’d only fantasized about for years. Of course that had been purely dreams, he hadn’t thought she’d look so tempting in real life. He remembered the little ginger-haired girl that had followed him and James about when they were children. He’d never had much interest in girls, but James had rather enjoyed the way she’d gazed at him with those sweet calf eyes. Adoration, no matter where the source came from had always been something James enjoyed and it had been only too easy for him to woo little Gemma with his smiles and teasing. Jasper had been far too busy to deal with girls at that age, he’d been more interested in exploring the hills and forests of Midhurst and getting in the sort of trouble boys were prone to do.
The woman on the bench sighed touched the blindfold over her eyes. It was made from a strip of cloth he’d found just for her in a little shop in a seaside port only a week ago. It was to be his tool of deception, a way to keep her from seeing him clearly, so she’d look back upon tonight and have to admit it was not James who’d visited her. It was a cruel plan. James’s plan, not his, but Jasper was equally a bastard for going along with it.
“Hellfire and damnation,” he muttered, squared his shoulders and walked around the nearest hedge. The time to compromise an innocent lady had arrived and he couldn’t put it off another moment.
Forgive me, sweet Gemma.
Chapter Two
“James? Is that you?” She called out, her heart beating wildly with the excitement of the moment.
Her face warmed with the heat of a blush when she heard a soft intake of breath a few feet behind her. This moment was a decade in the making. She had dreamed of this deep into the night, and she could scarcely breathe with the abundance of joy inside her. Every letter, every anxious day waiting for a messenger to bring her news of him, had finally led to this night. Her life could begin again, this time with James by her side.
“Good god, is that you, Gemma? What a glorious creature you’ve grown up to be!” a low masculine voice uttered breathlessly.
It was curious, she had expected to recognize his voice, to hear it be just the same as the boy’s voice she had carved into her memory, but it was not. The voice that spoke was that of a man, changed to a rich baritone, which rumbled sensually from behind her. She started to turn around on the bench but suddenly a body sat down behind her, arms circling her waist and lips brushing against her ear.
“Don’t turn around,” he whispered. “I want to see you like this, drink in my fill of you.”
The shock of that intimate caress of his lips against her ear sent her jerking forward in panic. Sparks of sharp heat shot down between her thighs. Gemma tried to wrest herself free of his grasp because the way he held her made her feel so…queer.
“James, wait, I want to see you.” Her hands flew to her face to remove the blindfold and get a glimpse of him. James, however, had other ideas. He snagged her arms, securing them at her sides as he jerked her back down against his lap on the marble bench. That forced closeness shot her heart into her throat and made her lightheaded with an unsettling mixture of emotions and physical awareness. He was a little rough, but rather than frighten her, it heightened her awareness of his strength. He touched the bare skin of her arms with his calloused palms.
Why didn’t I wear gloves? A lady always wears gloves. But she hadn’t tonight because she’d wanted to feel him, to touch him without a layer of silk between her fingers and his skin. Now she felt a skin to skin sensation, perfect, arousing. Arousing… yes that’s what she felt. Arousal. Mary had explained it to her in whispered tones when preparing her for tonight, she’d explained a kiss could do strange things to a woman’s body if the man were skilled. It seemed Mary had been right.
James’s arms tightened about her body to keep her from escaping, now were tight in an entirely different way. His breath turned heavy and he snuggled up to her.
“James, what are you doing?” She gasped, trying to pull free again.
“Shh…be still my lovely Gemma, embrace this twilight dream with me…” The words were honey smooth and delivered in such a perfect poetic cadence that Gemma was too entranced by the romance of it, to bother fighting off the amorous embrace of her love.
This was the man from the letters, the one who wooed with his words. Now he wooed her with his hands. She found it easy to relax beneath that soothing voice despite the clearly compromising position of her body fully against his. If no one came upon t
hem, her reputation would be safe enough.
“It is good to hear your voice again, eleven years is such a long time. I was worried you might not find me…desirable,” Gemma said, barely above a whisper. Not a young lady anymore, she was older, a little wiser, and she’d never been one of the prettiest girls in Midhurst, let alone London.
The fear that he’d replace her with someone new, a more beautiful woman was a fear she didn’t want to admit, but it was there, clawing at her heart, making it hard to breathe. Would she be enough for a man like James? Or would he find her lacking? She’d never measured her worth in looks before, and certainly had never valued herself by a man’s affections. That hadn’t changed. But if James didn’t want her, it would hurt. Deeply. The eleven years she’d spent in their secret courtship through letters would have been a waste, and the decent, eligible men she had turned down now were all married with wives and babes of their own.
Lightheaded with the sweet swell of heat in her body and the slow growing ache between her legs, she bit back a moan when James slid one hand down from her waist along her thigh. Struggling to catch her breath, she tried to paw his hand away in an effort to ease the effect it had on her senses. James slid his hand off her thigh, to cover her own protesting hand and guided it down to her own leg. With this simple switch of hands, she felt a little more in control. He led her hand downward onto the smooth tenderness of her inner thigh, stroking the silk against her skin. He made her caress herself, in the way she had only ever done when alone in her bath.
Her head spun and little tingles skittered beneath her skin just knowing that he wished to touch her there, to explore the hidden skin of her legs. She leaned back against his chest, and he stretched his fine long legs out on either side of her own. He surrounded her, enfolding her completely in his embrace. She resisted the urge to touch him back, even though she wanted to feel him and ensure he was real. Gemma put her other hand tentatively on his right thigh. The heavy muscles, strong beneath her grasp, sent slow ripples of heat through her and her heart jumped in her chest. The muscles beneath her hand tensed, and he shifted a little behind her.
“Not find you desirable? Gemma, you are breathtaking!” He pressed his lips on her throat in a kiss.
Then he laughed softly, and he moved his other hand up to caress her breasts. Her flesh tightened beneath his touch and Gemma drew in a deep breath. James pulled her back harder against him, and she felt something hard, his arousal against her backside. That, too, Mary had warned her about, how a man’s groin area would stiffen when he was ready to take a woman to bed. The idea had been laughable at the time, but now Gemma’s lungs burned and her hands shook at the thought. Would he want to take her to bed? Would he try tonight? Did she want him to?
Gemma was not a wanton woman, but she was tempted by this…rogue. The way he handled her, the way he knew just how to make her body flood with heat and desire.
Jasper’s hand on her thigh started to coil her gown, raising it past her calves, up over her knee until bare skin was revealed. If he touched her any more this way, she would surely faint, fall right off the bench and ruin her best gown…but if he stopped, she was sure she would die from unfulfilled yearnings.
“James…I don’t think we should…” she tried to speak but he caught her chin with his hand and angled her head to the side so that he could kiss her on the lips.
It was Gemma’s first real kiss. She remembered James kissing her once, long ago, when they’d been children. He’d caught her by the back door to the kitchens of Haverford and pressed his lips to hers. A brief flash of a smile later and he’d run off, leaving her to stand alone and confused by his actions. She hadn’t much liked that kiss, but what respectable girl of ten years old would? Now though, everything had changed and James’s kisses had too it seemed.
This was a true kiss, with melting fire and the sweet taste of passion’s first bloom. His warm mouth on hers was a fascinating sensation. Soft lips that coaxed and teased, sending shivers through her in places she didn’t know could tremble. When his tongue parted her lips and teased her own tongue, something deep in her belly twisted and clenched and a flash of heat shot through her like a fire in a pan. Quick, startling, making her gasp. She gripped his leg tighter, feeling the taut muscles of his thigh beneath her when she strained to kiss him harder. It would be so easy to lose herself in his arms, to the feeling of his mouth on hers. His lips twisted upward and he smiled between kisses.
“You taste divine, Gemma,” he whispered huskily, as his hand drifted higher up her leg, straying close to dangerous areas.
She knew she should have tried to close her legs to prevent him from going further up. When his hand abandoned hers, it moved steadily onward beneath her gown, lifted her petticoats as though they weren’t even there.
“Oh!” Gemma gasped when he stroked the tight coils of the dark triangle hidden between her legs. Tingles of pleasure shot up her spine, yet she squirmed a little at that touch, afraid of the mounting tension in her lower body. James caught her mouth with his, absorbing the little gasp, still smiling as he did so.
“I have waited years to touch you, Gemma…” he confessed in a soft sigh and nuzzled her cheek.
Gemma wanted to face him, wanted to see what she knew had to be a handsome face. But he caught her hand as it strayed toward the blindfold, kissing the inside of her wrist, before moving her palm to his neck. She was able to twine her fingers in his silky hair and hold his head close to hers while he let his lips stray from hers down to her neck and then her shoulder. His hand between her legs moved a few inches deeper, caressing the entrance of her moist center and the violently pleasurable sensations that rippled through her made Gemma tremble. James paused in his deep caress to kiss her.
“Are you all right?” His touch gentled as he waited for her to answer.
Gemma tried to nod, but she still trembled. She knew if she tried to stand she’d sooner fall than walk. He pulled his hand away, seeming to realize just how affected she was.
“Gemma…” he cooed softly, his hand pulling her gown back down over her legs.
“James…I’m sorry. I’m not used to…” Gemma tried to explain herself, so ashamed that she wanted to sink into a hole in the ground and hide from him. She’d waited years for him, for this moment and now she was inexperienced and unsure of herself. Would he want a woman more experienced? Shame made her face heat and tingle. She closed her eyes, trying to breathe. Who would have thought her innocence would have become a burden?
“There’s plenty of time for you to get used to this and to me,” his soft voice purred without the slightest hint of annoyance. He was compassionate to wait, to not press her until she had grown used to these new passions he’d lit within her body. How could she have ever thought to doubt his intentions?
When he got up and let go of her, the warm heat of his body vanished. The deprivation of his close proximity had a startling effect on her, she had to still her own arms from reaching out to bring him back into her embrace. Gemma turned around instinctively but the blindfold kept her ignorant of her love’s appearance.
“Will you be at Lady Greenley’s party tomorrow?” She tried to sound casual, as though he hadn’t just changed her entire world in a matter of a few caresses and kisses.
“Yes, but promise me you will not speak a word of what has transpired tonight. Our meeting must be kept secret.”
“A secret?” A flicker of insecurity flashed through her but she dispelled it. This was James! He would do right by her, there was no question of that.
“Yes, until I can ask you to marry me properly.” James placed a tender kiss on her forehead and his footsteps retreated in the distance.
She pulled the blindfold off in time to see the tall fine figured back of a man with dark hair vanish around the garden’s edge. Gemma clutched the beautiful blindfold to her chest, her entire body quivering with joy. James was going to marry her! To think that she would be blessed with years of tender words, and soft hot kisses
…she was the luckiest woman in the world to know love at James Randolph’s hands. The years of faithful affection they’d shared through words created by pens on paper had only made their future passion a mighty fire waiting for the chance to burn.
Jasper arrived at Randolph Hall and left his horse with the groom. He was immediately granted entrance and shown into the evening room where James Randolph stood beside the marble fireplace, one hand braced on the mantle, swirling a glass of brandy. He didn’t seem to be at all surprised at Jasper’s arrival because he nodded toward a waiting glass of brandy on the mantle. It did nothing to ease the black mood that rolled through Jasper like summer storm clouds. Listening to Gemma gasp another man’s name. James’s name, made his blood burn. It should have been only Gemma and him in that garden without the specter of his friend between them.
“Jas, you devil, what took so long?” James asked, offering a second glass of brandy to him.
“I was delayed…” Jasper took the brandy from his friend and drank greedily.
“And your meeting with Gemma? How did it go? I’ll wager that blindfold did the trick in disguising that it was you and not me who made love to her just now.” James chuckled and sipped his brandy again.
It took everything for Jasper not to bloody his friend’s nose. This whole scheme was dreadful and he despised the way it made his insides wither with guilt.
“James…are you sure you want to do this to her? I mean—”
His friend held up a hand to silence him. “Now, now, Jasper. Remember, we are in this tangle because you didn’t do what I asked you to.” James shook his head in reproach.
Unfortunately he was right, Jasper had done something incredibly foolish and now it was a thorn in his side to handle and a nasty blockade against James’s marital plans. Not to mention Jasper’s intentions to have Gemma for himself. Both he and James were trapped, one wanting to escape her and the other wanting to claim her with every fiber of his being. But there was no easy way of going about this. A man couldn’t cry off an understanding even as fairly secretive as the one Gemma had, without a damned good reason. Ergo, she had to be compromised by another man, which would give James his honorable out, and hopefully Jasper would be able to swoop in and snatch her up.
