by Lucy Monroe
"Jared?" She sounded disoriented, her hands still gripping his waistcoat.
"What?"
"Where are you taking me?"
"Someplace to finish what I’ve started."
She went silent and then said, "Oh," renewing her attack on his waistcoat, this time getting all the buttons undone by the time he reached the shed.
He bent down with her in his arms. "Open the door."
His voice sounded harsh to his own ears, but she didn’t seem to notice. At least she did not tense against him. She obeyed and pushed the door inward. He carried her inside, surprised by the cleanliness of what he now realized was a potting shed. The dim light from the single window did not reveal a single pot or tool out of place.
"Do you keep all your outbuildings this clean?"
Her hot little hands were all over his chest. "Of course," she mumbled against him, sounding surprised by the question.
He smiled, thinking of his own cluttered potting shed. He wondered what she would say when she saw it. He gently let her legs down until her feet touched the floor.
She took a step back and slipped off her apron, tossing it in an untidy pile on top of a table near the window, and then stared up at him. "Should I take off my dress?"
Not if he was going to keep any kind of control. "No."
Her eyes narrowed. "I don’t understand."
"Don’t worry, mon ange, I’ll take care of everything."
Suiting action to words, he sat down on the potter’s bench and pulled her onto his lap. She gasped as she landed against his chest with a thud. Then he put his hand on the side of her cheek and held her still for his kiss. Her instant response went straight to his groin, which had already been hard and now ached with unfulfilled desire.
He let his hand trail down her neck and curve around to cup her breast. One small nipple tightened under his palm, its hard point pressing against the thin muslin of her gown. He tugged her sleeve down, bringing the bodice with it until her sweetly curved flesh was exposed to his probing fingers. She was so perfect. He had to taste her. Bending his head, he circled her nipple with his tongue.
She cried out and he did it again. He had never touched a woman who responded to him the way she did. He knew how to give a woman pleasure, but Cali made him feel like she needed him, not just what his touch could do for her. Her response touched deep down inside him.
She squirmed on his lap and he knew what she craved, even if she didn’t. He pulled her skirts up until his hand rested against bare thigh. He made a circular motion with his thumb and she went absolutely still. Raising his head from her breast, he caught her gaze. Her pretty blue eyes were darkened with passion and her usually creamy white skin was tinted with a warm blush.
"Don’t be afraid, mon ange. I’m going to touch you."
"Yes." The word came out a breathless sigh as his hand inched up closer to her feminine core.
She jumped as his fingertips brushed the moist patch of curls between her legs. He used his other hand to stroke her neck in a gentling motion. "It’s all right. Do you trust me?"
Mute, she nodded.
He let one finger slip inside the soft feminine folds and shuddered at the slick, wetness he found there. Using the tip of his finger, he spread the wetness until her hardened little nub was as slick as the rest of her.
She cried out again and pressed her body against his hand. Carefully replacing his finger tip with his thumb, he drew erotic circles around the sweet spot and felt her thighs tighten against his hand. He gave her an open-mouthed kiss, voraciously eating her lips until she was mindless with her need. Then, he lowered his head and took her tight, pink nipple into his mouth and sucked. Hard.
She screamed and came apart in his arms, sobbing out her pleasure as he rubbed the sweet spot between her legs and teased her velvet nipple with his teeth and tongue.
***
Calantha was still reeling from the pleasure she had found in Jared’s arms two days later as she packed her books for transport to Raven Hall. She had thought he meant to make love to her, not understanding even after their experience on the conservatory floor, that he could finish what they had started without the final act of joining. She’d learned however that her fiancé had startlingly talented hands. She still blushed when she remembered the way she had screamed and sobbed her pleasure aloud.
Afterward, she had expected him to seek some sort of satisfaction as well. The evidence of his desire had been so hard, her hip had felt almost bruised and yet, he had refused, saying he would bloody well wait until they were married. She had been too dazed from pleasure to argue with him, but she looked forward to her wedding night with less and less trepidation. Jared wanted her and she told herself that wouldn’t change just because they got married, not like it had with Deveril.
She thought Jared must have been right. Deveril had failed to consummate their marriage not because she was undesirable, but because it had been one more way of hurting her and making her feel inferior. It seemed to her that there had to be some insanity in that, but it no longer mattered. Deveril was dead and soon she would not even be a Clairborne anymore.
Kneeling on the floor, she placed a book on eastern archeological digs into the packing crate with renewed purpose. The last plant had been removed from her conservatory yesterday evening and the wagons carrying her precious cargo had already begun their slow journey to Raven Hall.
She had left behind the "babies" from her current bushes and herbs for the groundskeeper to maintain. She had also left written instructions for Thomas’s granddaughter to continue Calantha’s practice of providing candied rose petals to the vicars children and certain teas and recipes to the local people for their various ills once the "babies" had grown large enough to harvest. She liked the idea of having a few plants to tend on the occasions she, Jared, and Hannah came to visit the Ashtons as well.
Although her life was irrevocably changing, that bit of continuity gave her peace. Soon, she would take up residence as the Viscountess of Ravenswood. A mere lady, no longer a duchess. Jared would not expect perfection. He did not consider her a marble statue. He could not possibly after the passion they had shared.
"Really, my dear, that is hardly appropriate behavior for a duchess. Surely your servants could have seen to the packing of your books."
Calantha shot to her feet at the sound of Henry’s voice. Why had he returned? He must realize she had no intention of changing her mind about the marriage. The settlements had been signed yesterday and Jared had proven to be extremely generous. He had protected her future just as he had promised to do.
The duke wore riding breeches and coat. "Henry, I did not expect to see you today. Has Ellen come with you?"
And where was Thomas? Why hadn’t he announced the duke?
"My wife chose to remain at Clairborne Park."
"I see." But she didn’t.
She could not fathom the reason for the duke’s visit, nor why he had elected not to bring his wife.
Henry turned and closed the door to the parlor, making the room feel even smaller than usual.
She took an involuntary step backward. "Why did you do that? It is hardly proper for me to entertain a gentleman with the door shut."
Even a widow had certain restrictions on her behavior and a young widow more than most. She did not observe them with Jared, but found protection in them when dealing with Henry.
"I’m afraid I have things to say to you of a very delicate nature. I would not want the servants to overhear."
"I cannot imagine what you have to say to me that you fear my servants overhearing, but I must insist you open the door at once." She edged around the table, making her own way toward the door.
"Do not be so obstinate. Of the many flaws Deveril complained you had, stubbornness was not among them. I cannot imagine what has happened to you."
She had learned to live without fear. "Say what you have to say and then leave. My fiancé would be very displeased to find you here alone with
me."
As she hoped it would have, the mention of Jared brought a wary expression to the duke’s face. "Very well. I must say that you have lost a certain amount of the polish Deveril tried so hard to instill in you."
She shivered when she thought of the way her dead husband had gone about "polishing" her, but refused to be goaded into an answer.
"I have investigated the viscount’s background since you seemed intent on rushing headlong into marriage without doing so."
"There was no need. I know all that is necessary to know about my future husband. He is a man of honor." And Jared was gentle rather than cruel toward those weaker than himself.
"I think you will change your mind when you hear what I have to say."
Nothing would make her change her mind about Jared. "You are wrong."
Henry frowned, but he didn’t take issue with her impudence. "The viscount comes from a family rife with scandal."
She raised her brows in mocking disdain. "I’m very fond of his sisters and their families. I cannot imagine to what you refer."
Henry’s frown deepened when her response was not what he had clearly expected. "His mother ran off to the West Indies rather than face the just wrath of her husband after she was caught in a compromising position with another gentleman."
"If the man compromised a married woman, he can hardly claim the title of gentleman, no matter the nobility of his birth."
"Do not be ridiculous. A lady must at all times take precautions to guard her reputation."
"And the gentlemen around her, are they not similarly bound?" she asked with a pointed look at the closed door.
The duke’s hands curled into fists at his side, but he made no move toward her. "His sister married the baseborn son of a nobleman. Drake is only accepted by the ton because his grandfather is an eccentric duke and insists on it."
"Mr. and Mrs. Drake are all that is charming, Henry. I cannot believe that you hold his father’s ignoble actions against him, but I can assure you that I do not."
Her brother-in-law’s eyes narrowed. "It is a clear matter of propriety, but I see that you have forgotten all that Deveril tried to teach you on that subject."
"My parents may not have been high-ranking members of the ton, but they were gentry all the same and my mother did an excellent job teaching me the rules of proper behavior." She was tired of hearing about her husband’s tutelage.
"Then you should realize that a man whose father would wed one woman while still married to another is completely unsuitable as a prospective husband for a duchess." Henry stood several feet away, his entire being radiating complacent victory after making that statement.
So, Anna had still been living when Langley married his next countess. Calantha shrugged, refusing to even acknowledge the ugly slur with a word of denial.
"Didn’t you hear what I just said? Lady Ashton is the earl’s by-blow, not his legitimate daughter. And your fiancé," he said the word sneeringly, "is no better the way he flaunts convention to acknowledge his own by-blow. Ellen informed me the child is rumored to be that of one of his servants. Bad blood runs in that family like the watery punch at Almack’s. You cannot possibly consider linking your name with theirs. You are Calantha, Duchess of Clairborne and owe certain duties to that title."
Deep, cleansing rage filled her. How dare this pompous idiot pass judgment on Jared’s family? "You pretentious, puling cur! I will not tolerate one more second of this defaming of my fiancé and his family. He is more gentleman than Deveril ever hoped to be, or you for that matter. Jared would never raise his fist to strike a woman, but you and your brother both have that weakness in your character. If Jared had something to say to you, he would say it to your face, not hide behind false protestations of concern to drip venom in Ellen’s ear. The only bad blood that concerns me is that which I allowed to taint me as the wife of that beast you called brother."
Too late, her common sense inserted itself, reminding her how violently Henry reacted to words spoken against his dead brother. She sidestepped to the fireplace and satisfaction gleamed in Henry’s eyes at the indication of her fear. The satisfaction turned to fury as she picked up the fireplace poker and brandished it before her, clutching it tightly with both hands.
"Have you taken to brawling, my dear?" he asked as he took a step toward her, his expression dangerously angry.
"I won’t let you hurt me."
"Do you really think you can stop me?" He sounded amused.
She drew herself up, holding the poker even more tightly. "Perhaps not, but I will inflict my own damage and once Jared learns of it, he will kill you."
The duke stopped in his tracks and his face tightened.
"It’s true and you know it. You fear him and with good reason."
"A viscount would not dare threaten a duke."
Henry didn’t sound at all certain of that statement and she rushed to bolster his uncertainty. "Jared is no common viscount. He fears nothing and he protects his own."
"You deserve to be slapped for slinging such insults at my brother."
"Do you want to die so young, then?" she asked, not at all sure if the argument would work.
Once Deveril had been in a rage, even the prospect of leaving bruises that would show had not stopped him from meting out his fury with his fists.
"I will not waste my time with you, but know this. If you marry the viscount, no Clairborne will acknowledge you in any way. If he is counting on our countenance and a connection to it through you, he will be sorely disappointed." The venom in Henry’s voice made her shiver, but she kept it inside.
"Jared and I will both be content to sever any connection to your title." She did not relax her position of vigilance with the fireplace poker until Henry had left.
***
Lady Ashton and Mrs. Drake arrived to help Calantha prepare for her wedding two mornings later.
"It is very kind of you to take time to be with me this morning, Lady Ashton. I’m sure you have things you could be doing at the manor." Only a small party of local gentry had been invited to the wedding breakfast, but Calantha knew what it was like to arrange entertainments of that sort.
"You must call me Irisa now," the blonde woman said with a warm smile. "We are to be sisters."
An only child, the prospect of having sisters delighted Calantha to the tips of her gold satin wedding slippers. "Thank you. You may call me Calantha."
"I like Cali better," Thea announced from the other side of her.
"Please call me whatever you like, Thea."
Jenny stepped forward to slip the virginal white gown over Calantha’s head. Her hair had not yet been dressed.
As the satin folds settled around her, Irisa applauded. "It’s lovely, Cali. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything but blue."
Calantha looked at the formal white gown with a critical eye. The bodice was cut lower than her usual modest style and exposed the top swell of her small breasts. They did not look quite so small with the corset pushing her curves upward and the gathered bosom of the gown giving her added dimension. The skirt fell in several elegant tucks, accentuated with gold rosettes and streamers, which revealed the gold shot white satin underskirt below.
"As soon as I finished the traditional black of mourning, I had an entire wardrobe made up in as many shades of blue as I could find."
"It’s a very good color on you," Thea remarked diplomatically.
"My first husband did not think so. He said that it was too common for a woman with blue eyes to wear the color and during the entire two years of my marriage, I never so much as had a blue handkerchief."
"I can attest to that," Jenny said, breaking the silence that had gripped her since Jared’s sisters invaded Calantha’s bedchamber.
"Jared won’t care what color you wear," Irisa predicted.
Calantha smiled at her reflection in the mirror, for once finding pleasure in the beauty reflected back at her. She wanted to be beautiful for Jared. She agreed with his s
ister’s assessment. He wouldn’t care what color she wore, or if her gown was the latest fashion. Those sorts of things didn’t matter to the man she was going to marry.
"I think that married to your brother, I shall wear a rainbow of colors." Only then would her happiness at finding such a man be reflected accurately.
His sisters seemed to understand because they gave her matching smiles of approval. Jenny pulled the mass of golden hair that hung to Calantha’s waist into several intricate curls and tucks on top her head. When she was finished, she placed a small ringlet of pearls Calantha’s mother had given her on her comeout around her neck.
"You look like the angel the ton claims you to be." Irisa’s words did not elicit even a twinge of pain as they once might have done.
Jared called her his angel and that had made all the difference.
"She looks like a woman fit to be our brother’s wife," Thea replied, "but I’ll wager he’s going to have a fit about that neckline of Calantha’s gown. Pierson would, but I’d wear it anyway."
Calantha stared at her sister-in-law to be and then burst out laughing. "And I wager you would. Do you think Jared will be angry?" Perhaps she should tuck a bit of lace into the bosom to make the neckline more modest.
"No. He’ll be overcome with desire and blame it on you, but I’ve found that state of affairs very pleasant. Do not let it worry you." Thea’s practical advice settled Calantha's nerves and she hoped the other woman was right.
The idea of Jared overcome with passion was very pleasant indeed.
Irisa gave Calantha an impulsive hug, which she returned, only to be embraced warmly by Thea as well.
***
Later, as she faced Jared in front of the congregation gathered to witness their wedding in the village church, she knew his sister was right. He had watched her progression up the aisle of the old church with such a heated look, she felt singed. As she took her place to his left, facing the priest, she permitted herself a small smile.
"Dearly beloved..."
The priest began his introduction to the marriage vows and Calantha tried to listen, but her mind was occupied with the giant standing next to her. From this day forward, she would be his wife and he would be her husband. As the priest asked if there were any who knew why she and Jared should not be bound by the laws of matrimony, she almost turned to see if the duke had come to her wedding after all. She kept her focus forward with an act of will, but could not completely suppress a sigh of relief when no objection was found.
