by Lisa Kleypas
He slid his hands over her silky hair, pushing her head back. He took his time with her, noting that although she was not responding to him, she was not rejecting him either. Gently he brushed her lips with his own. She kissed like a child, her mouth innocently closed. Jason realized that the sexual urges so familiar to him were only just awakening in her.
The tip of his tongue traced her lower lip, lingering at the center. Laura jerked away from him in surprise, touching her fingers to the damp surface. Why had he done that? Was it wrong for her to allow it?
Jason’s eyes held her in a dark, velvet prison. Carefully he pulled her back against his body. “It’s all right,” he murmured, his breath mingling with hers. “It’s all right, Laura…did I frighten you?”
“No,” she said faintly.
He smoothed her hair and kissed her temple, careful to keep every movement slow and gentle. “Would you put your arms around my neck?”
She hesitated and then obeyed, her breasts resting against his chest. The warmth of his hands cupped her jaws, holding her head still, and his lips teased hers with fleeting touches. “Kiss me back,” he whispered.
Laura felt light-headed, her fear dissolving in a wave of slow, sensual curiosity. She relaxed in his arms, her lips no longer closed so firmly, accepting the gently playful mouth that moved over hers. The tip of his tongue ventured further and further, probing until she opened her mouth with a gasp. She felt his tongue begin a languid search for hers, stroking deep in a way she had never dreamed of.
Eventually he lifted his mouth, and she realized dazedly that she did not want the kiss to end. She rested her head on his shoulder, soothed by the long, repeated strokes of his hand along her spine. His palms pressed her buttocks and hips forward until there was not an inch of space between their bodies. They were separated by the thick layers of her skirts and petticoats, but even so she could feel the hard ridge of his loins.
Jason held her close between his thighs, allowing her to become accustomed to the feel of a man’s body. His lips wandered over her moist forehead, while the uneven gusts of her breath against his neck caused his manhood to swell even more blatantly. He felt her trembling as he fondled the downy nape of her neck. “Afraid?” he asked.
“I…I don’t know.”
“There’s nothing to be afraid of.” He rubbed his lips over hers in a roughly teasing caress. When she did not respond, he raised his head and looked at her questioningly.
Her eyes were luminous and turquoise-green, while her kiss-reddened lips were softer and fuller than usual. Wonderingly she lifted her hand to smooth back the hair that had fallen over his forehead.
Suddenly they were interrupted by the opening of the door to the kitchen. It was Phoebe, a housemaid who had been in the Prescott’s employ for nearly ten years. Phoebe’s round face turned the color of raspberries, and her mouth fell open at the sight of husband and wife clasped together in the breakfast room. “Oh, my. Ex-excuse me,” she exclaimed in horror, and disappeared behind the door.
Laura tried to smooth her hair and dress, while her skin burned with embarrassment.
“We are married,” Jason reminded her dryly, tightening his arms around her back.
“You should let me go—”
“Not yet. Is it so unpleasant to be held by me?”
“I would not like anyone else t-to break in upon us again.” She closed her eyes as she felt him nuzzling her ear.
“If you would prefer some privacy,” he said in a soft voice that raised every hair on the back of her neck, “we could go upstairs.”
She tried to pull away from him. “I—I have many things to do today if we are to leave for Brookline so soon. I do think you should let me go—”
“Then go, if you’re so damned eager to fly out of my arms.” He released her with a slight scowl. But his tone was far more gentle than usual, and she felt his gaze caressing her as she turned away. “Laura.”
She stopped without looking at him. “Yes?”
“I am not going to force you to do anything,” he said quietly. “I have wanted you for a long time, and I haven’t yet forced you.”
He was more overwhelming in his gentleness than he had ever been in anger. Laura was astonished by the feelings that swept over her: the desire to walk back to him and press herself against his body, to slide her fingers through his coal-black hair, to feel his mouth on hers again. She left the room quickly, her heart pounding with the knowledge that in less than a few minutes her husband had turned her entire world upside down.
Two
A fresh snow had covered the ground, giving the rebuilt farmhouse a picturesque appearance. As the driver opened the door of the double brougham, a burst of icy air swept away Laura’s pleasant lethargy. The drive from Boston with Jason had been surprisingly enjoyable. In response to her questions, he had talked to her about his construction enterprise in the Back Bay, an apartment building of twenty-five flats complete with elevators and steam heating.
“I would like to see it,” Laura had remarked, and he regarded her with a skeptical smile.
“I’ll take you there when we return.”
Laura nodded in assent, while her insides quivered in delight. Jason had never been so nice to her. She began to think that the next few days might not be as harrowing as she had feared. Since their marriage, they had never spent longer than an afternoon with her family. When any of the Prescotts were near, Jason was quiet and abrupt, his manner challenging. The Prescotts, in turn, were stiff and polite. Laura always felt caught between two opposing forces, and she was miserable when they were all together. But if everyone made an effort to be pleasant, it might pave the way for future gatherings.
Jason stepped out of the carriage and reached up for her, catching her around the waist. Laura pulled her hands from her tiny fur muff and grasped his shoulders. He swung her down without letting her feet touch the portable steps.
“Thank you,” she said with a breathless laugh.
His dark eyes studied hers, and he smiled ruefully. “A house full of Prescotts,” he said, keeping his hands on her waist. “I feel as if I’m about to brave a lion’s den.”
“You got on well enough with them before we were married,” Laura pointed out.
Suddenly he grinned. “Yes, until I made you a Moran.” Still holding her, he looked over her head at the large house, surrounding fields, and wooded copses. Well in the distance was the outline of the Boston State House dome, and the tall buildings near it.
The Prescotts often gathered at Sophia’s Brookline home during the winter. The firstborn of Cyril Prescott’s children, Sophia was a plain but sociable woman. She had a talent for entertaining, and it was universally agreed that Sophia was one of the most accomplished hostesses in Boston. Her husband, Judge T. Horace Marsh, was a rather stiff-necked blue blood, but Sophia’s influence had caused him to soften during the past few years.
Sophia was one of the rare breed of Bostonian women who liked to dispense with unnecessary formality. In her home the younger people were allowed the free use of first names, a custom which irked the older generations. No one was allowed to remain a stranger in the Marshes’ gatherings. They were all cajoled into joining the constant rounds of whist and backgammon, sleigh rides and dancing parties.
Sophia appeared on the landing of the outside steps, her lips curved in a welcoming smile. She was clad in a stylish winter dress of gray cashmere and garnet velvet. “My dears, how wonderful to have you here at last,” she said, pressing Jason’s hand between hers, then embracing Laura. “Come inside at once. We have a splendid fire, and hot tea for the ladies, and something stronger for the gentlemen. Anne and Howard are here, and so are the Warrens—oh, and Jason, you’ll be pleased to learn that Hale arrived not an hour ago.” Sophia inclined her head toward them confidentially. “I believe Hale is seriously thinking of courting the Warrens’ daughter Prudence. I told him that the two of you might not be averse to chaperoning them on the sleigh ride this afternoon.”<
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Laura and Jason exchanged a questioning glance, and Jason replied while holding his wife’s gaze. “Of course I’ll chaperone Hale,” he said, a little too nicely. Laura suppressed a laugh, pitying her brother.
Jason guided her into the house with his arm at her back, pulling her to the side as the servants moved past them to carry their trunks upstairs. Slowly Jason untied the laces of Laura’s velvet-trimmed mantle. She was unable to look at him as she felt his fingers at her throat.
Jason handed the garment to the waiting arms of a maid, and glanced over Laura’s head to his sister-in-law. “I wouldn’t mind a glass of the ‘something stronger’ you mentioned, Sophia.”
“I suggest you join Hale and the other men in the parlor,” Sophia replied. “They are congregated around a bowl of hot punch, discussing whatever it is men discuss amongst themselves.” She slipped an arm around Laura’s shoulders and smiled. “We sisters must confer with Cook about the dinner preparations.”
Jason’s black eyes glinted with amusement. “Certainly,” he said, and although his voice was bland, it was obvious he knew they were planning to gossip.
Together Sophia and Laura watched his broad-shouldered form as he left, then they wandered toward the kitchen. “Now, out with it,” Sophia said. “How did you manage to drag Jason here?”
“It was his decision,” Laura replied. “No one is more surprised than I.”
“Hale confided to me that he had a talk with Jason, but he would not reveal what was said between them.”
Laura frowned darkly. “I will not have Hale interfering in my marriage, no matter how well-intentioned he is. I will speak to him about it.”
“Oh, don’t be cross with him! You know how Hale adores you. He cannot bear to see you unhappy.” Sophia peered at her younger sister. “Are you unhappy? Jason is not being unkind to you, is he?”
“Not at all.” Laura folded her arms in a stubborn gesture.
“Hmmm. The two of you look well enough. And Jason is as wickedly handsome as ever. If it were not for his regrettable background, he would have been the prize catch of Boston.” With studied casualness, Sophia added, “But of course there will always be those who say you must be pitied for marrying a shanty-born Irishman. No one would blame you for feeling ashamed.”
“Why should I be ashamed of a man who has lifted himself from poverty to prosperity? Jason has had to fight for everything he’s ever had. Nothing has been given to him. Nothing has been easy for him. He is a man of intelligence and strength. I’m not ashamed of him, yet for some reason Jason finds that as difficult to believe as everyone else!”
There was a gleam of satisfaction in Sophia’s eyes. “Then you must persist until you do convince him. It is a woman’s duty to make the best of her lot, Laura. And there are certain things a wife owes to her husband.”
Laura turned red up to her hairline at Sophia’s delicate emphasis on ‘certain things.’ “Hale told you everything, didn’t he?” she asked, feeling betrayed.
“I won’t deny it.”
“I should have known I couldn’t trust him to keep my confidence.”
“Hale felt you would benefit from the advice of an older sister,” Sophia said implacably. “You and Anne and I were not given an adequate education in how to be good wives. We learned all of the practical things and none of the truly necessary things. We never learned about trust and affection, and most of all loyalty. Father’s philandering embittered Mother years ago. She never wished for her daughters to risk the danger of loving a man and perhaps being hurt by him.”
Laura regarded her speculatively. “I wouldn’t have expected such frankness from you, Sophia.”
“I have discovered many things in the past few years. I have learned to love my Horace, and not to withhold myself from him.” She raised her eyebrows slightly. “I suspect that Jason has not been the shining example of a devoted husband. But a good wife could make him into a good husband. If he’s as intelligent as you claim. And the best revenge, my dear, against those who would mock or pity you for your common red-blooded husband, is simply to be happy.”
What seemed to be at least a dozen children ran and cavorted around the four sleighs lined up in front of the house. Some of them were Sophia’s offspring, others belonged to the Warrens, and the remainder were distant Prescott cousins. Laura stopped at the top of the circular steps with Prudence Warren, a vivacious and friendly girl she had met once or twice before.
“How lovely the sleighs are,” Prudence exclaimed, and Laura agreed. Each vehicle with its shiny black runners was pulled by two horses with festive tassels and bells affixed to their harnesses. A driver in a top hat sat at the front of each sleigh. Laughing young men and women were piling into the sleighs and covering themselves with wool and fur blankets, while others were helping the children clamber aboard.
“Now I can believe Christmas is only three weeks away,” Prudence said.
Laura looked at her with a faint smile. “Are you and my brother planning to exchange gifts?” she could not resist asking.
“That depends on Hale,” Prudence said airily. “If he gives me something proper and acceptable—candy or a book are all Mama will allow—then I shall give him something in return.”
The two of them watched as Hale stomped toward the last sleigh with two giggling children under his arms, loudly demanding that someone relieve him of his burden. Jason walked around to him, reached for the children one at a time, and settled them into the vehicle. The little boy reached for the ends of Hale’s mustache and refused to let go, causing Jason to laugh. The scene reminded Laura of the days when her husband and brother had been close friends, and she smiled wistfully. It was good to see them being civil to each other. She could not help but hope that they might someday regain their closeness.
“Your husband is quite charming,” Prudence said, following her gaze. “And good with the children.”
He was, Laura saw with a touch of surprise. Expertly Jason separated a pair of quarreling siblings, rescued a tot who was wandering close to the horses’ hooves, and carried a little boy on his back from one sleigh to another. While Jason organized the group and conferred with the drivers, Hale bounded up the circular steps to Laura and Prudence.
“Laura, sweetheart,” he said cheerfully, grasping her small gloved hands.
Remembering the way he had confided her private affairs to her sister, Laura pulled her hands from his and gave him a frosty glare. “I’ve had a revealing talk with Sophia,” she said.
He looked sheepish, but didn’t bother to pretend he didn’t understand. “I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t give you permission to tell anyone about Jason and me.”
“Sophia hit upon it with some damned clever guesses, and hang it, I couldn’t lie to her.”
“You could have said nothing,” Laura said coolly.
“But with Sophia that’s the same as admitting everything! Sweetheart, don’t get all ruffled, there’s a—”
“I have a right to be ruffled, you traitor.” Laura folded her arms over her chest and turned away.
Swearing under his breath, Hale regarded her guiltily and then offered his arm to Prudence.
“Hale, whatever is—” Prudence began, but he interrupted her with a scowl.
“Don’t ask, Pru. With three sisters, a fellow’s always in one stew or another.” He walked Prudence down the steps, while Jason passed by them on the way up.
Jason raised an eyebrow as he looked from Hale’s face to Laura’s. He smiled at the sight of his wife dressed in a smart sleighing costume of black satin and brocade, and a lynx-trimmed mantle. A tiny black bonnet trimmed with red ribbons and ostrich plumes was perched on her head. Every hair was in place, every ribbon and pleat perfectly arranged. Jason wanted to scoop her up and kiss her right there on the steps.
Laura’s glare faded immediately as she saw him. He was especially handsome today, his black hair smoothly brushed, his wool overcoat tailored to his broad-shouldered form.
“I was coming to find you,” he said, sliding his hands over her ribs, his thumbs resting just underneath her breasts.
She held onto his arms, her green eyes shyly meeting his. “It is quite a large sleighing party,” she said.
“Yes, and we’re the only married couple of the group. I hope we can keep all of them in order.”
“I have no doubt of it.” She used her mittened hand to whisk away the snow that clung to his shoulder. “A horde of Prescotts should provide no difficulty for you.”
Jason tilted his head and regarded her with a slow, quizzical smile that made her heart turn over. “We’ll see if your faith is justified.” He kept his arm around her as he helped her down the steps. “We’re riding in the last sleigh to keep all the others in sight.”
He lifted her into the sleigh and strode to the front of the line of vehicles, where the first driver awaited the signal to go. Slowly the sleighs began to move. Laura sat opposite Hale and Prudence, while Sophia’s four children were bundled between them. The youngest, a seven-year-old girl named Millicent, crept into Laura’s lap and huddled under the woolen robe.
Jason came to join them, climbing into the empty space beside Laura. Together they arranged the blankets, the child, and their tangled legs, until Laura began to laugh. Finally she was tucked securely against Jason’s side, her leg wedged against his muscled thigh, her head near his shoulder. Disregarding Hale and Prudence’s interested gazes, she leaned against him.
Millicent sat up in Laura’s lap, asking questions about the horses, the trees, and anything else that struck her fancy. Jason answered her patiently, reaching out to tug one of the little girl’s long brown curls. The deep murmur of his voice was at once soothing and exciting to Laura, flavored with the hint of a brogue that would never quite disappear. She listened to him and watched the sparkling scenery around them, the frozen ponds and snow-laden birch and pine that lined the sleighs’ path.
The group in the lead sleigh began singing, and gradually the tune was picked up by the entire line of vehicles. Laura joined in with the others, smiling at Hale’s enthusiastic rendition.
