Part 22 (1/2)

His pulse was pounding, keeping time with his throbbing c.o.c.k. He closed his eyes, leaned his head back, and luxuriated in the light, ethereal touch of a woman's hand on his body. Her hands moved down again, flowing over his skin, to his hips, and moved like a feather across his erection. But there she paused, and through the fabric of his buckskins, she caressed him.

Jared sucked in his breath when she touched him; his head snapped up and he grabbed her arms. ”Come here,” he growled, moving forward, his hands cupping her face.

She shook her head. ”Allow me this,” she said, using his words from the first night they had lain together, as her hand cupped him. ”I am your wife and you will allow me this.”

b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, he'd allow her the sun, the moon, the stars-whatever she might desire. With a groan of surrender, he fell back against the chair, his body on fire. Ava tossed the silk aside, and with both hands, she undid his belt, and opened the flap that scarcely contained the evidence of his pa.s.sion. When his c.o.c.k sprang free, Ava did not flinch; she drew a breath, leaned down, and closed her lips around the tip of him.

His blood turned to liquid fire. Jared grabbed Ava's head, tried to lift her, but she was steadfast and took hold of his hips, then slid the length of him into her mouth.

The tender flick of her tongue proved more than he could bear, and he abruptly sat up, took her face in his hands, and forced her to look up. Her eyes had a sultry, hot look to them. He reached under her arms and easily pulled her into his lap. Her dressing gown fell open, exposing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to him, and he eagerly took one to his mouth as his hand sought the juncture of her legs.

He found it, hot and wet, the flesh swollen. Above him, he heard her ragged draw of breath, felt the tables turn. He was in control now. He held her firmly by the hips and moved her against his c.o.c.k. Ava, his bride, his beautiful, sensual bride, gasped for breath above him. He moved her body, positioning her, and looked up at her face. She was flushed with excitement, her eyes glittering, and slowly, carefully, he slid into her.

She closed her eyes; her head fell back as she sank down on him, and she let out a long, deep sigh of pleasure. He moved gently in her, afraid to hurt her, afraid he might overwhelm her with the pa.s.sion raging in him. But when Ava lifted her head and smiled down at him, he began to move with more a.s.surance.

She began to move, too-awkwardly at first, but then matching his rhythm. His hands sought her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, his mouth her skin, and when he thought he couldn't reach her, couldn't reach deep enough, he put one arm around her waist and surged up, taking them both to the rug at his feet. Her legs came up on either side of him; he slid deeper and harder, his hand between them, stroking her to the same explosive conclusion that was building in him.

Moaning, she moved beneath him, bucking against him until she found her release with one long, low cry. She grabbed him, her nails digging into his skin, her mouth on his shoulder.

He drove into her, felt the draw of his own release and shuddered his life's blood into her.

A moment pa.s.sed as they lay panting. When Jared had finally regained his senses, he thought he might be hurting her and s.h.i.+fted, bracing himself with his arms. ”Lie still,” he murmured as he kissed her cheek. ”I shall bring you a clean dressing gown.”

”Mmm,” she responded, stretched her arms above her head, and gave him a very sated, catlike smile. Jared kissed her lips, then stood up, pulled his buckskins up, and walked into his dressing room to find her a dressing gown.

But when he walked into his room again, Ava was on her feet, had wrapped her dressing gown around her, and had picked up the length of red silk.

He smiled. ”Do you mean to dance again?” he asked, holding the gown out to her. ”For if you do, lady, you might kill me.”

She smiled lopsidedly, walked to where he stood, rose up on her toes, and kissed him soundly on the lips. ”Good night, my lord.”

He slipped his arm around her back and returned her kiss with one a bit more ardent. ”Are you tired?”

She smiled. ”Sleep well,” she whispered, and moved out from the circle of his arms.

It confused him. He thought perhaps she meant to get in his bed, but she walked toward the door instead. ”Wait!” he exclaimed, confused, before she opened the door. ”Where are you going?”

”To my rooms,” she said with a bright smile, and opened the door. ”Good night.”

He stood there, confounded, as she walked out, his body and mind still steeped in their lovemaking, still holding a dressing gown, trying to fathom what had just happened.

When Ava slipped into her room, she walked to the hearth and hugged herself tightly. She hadn't wanted to leave him. She had wanted so badly to stay, and she believed that he'd wanted her to stay. But she'd given Sally her word.

”You must trust me on this, mu'um,” Sally had firmly told her. ”If you give yourself to him and seem eager to do it, he will take you, but he will think of another. If you only share yourself with him when you please, he shall want you even more. He'll want you so desperately he'll be devoured by the want, mark me.”

That sounded splendid, but still, Ava had wondered how Sally could be so certain.

Sally had laughed and called her naive. ”Mark me, Lady Ava,” she'd said. ”If you heed my advice, he shall come to you. Not the wh.o.r.e in London. You.”

Ava certainly hoped so, for after tonight, there was no place she wanted to be but in his arms.

Twenty-two.

J ared had a ravenous appet.i.te the next morning, and breakfasted alone, replaying the events of last night over again in his mind's eye. When he'd finished, he had the mare saddled and rode out, spurring the young horse faster and faster, recklessly leading her to jump over streams and fences, trying to shake that interminable and peculiar feeling at the core of him. It was a feeling of discomfort that seemed to grow in him each day, feeling a little like there was something too large inside his body.

When the mare was spent, he rode her easy back to the abbey. As he neared the old castle ruins, he saw the gamekeeper's boy standing high on a mound of rocks, his wooden sword at his side. He'd often seen the boy here, but he'd always ridden past. Today, however, he sent the mare trotting up the hill.

As he neared the ruins, the boy jumped down from the mound of rubble, his expression wary. Jared dismounted and tethered the horse and walked up the hill to the ruins. As he climbed up to what had once been the main floor of the castle, behind the lone wall that remained standing, he could see a tin cup, another wooden sword, an old saddle blanket that was neatly folded to form a pallet, and a cloth, folded and tied and undoubtedly containing bread and cheese.

It was, Jared thought with an aching twist of his heart, the same place he used to play as a child. He'dspent endless hours here, master of all he surveyed. When his governess came after him late in theafternoon, he returned to the abbey, where, at about the same age as this boy, he'd been master of thehouse before he even knew what that meant.

”King of the castle, eh?” he remarked to the boy, walking into the middle of what was left of the castle floor.

”Papa said I had your leave, milord,” Edmond said, looking a bit like he'd been caught doing something he ought not to do.

Jared smiled. ”You do indeed have my leave, lad. I'm merely curious as to what you're about.” He glanced at the child and studied his face. ”I often played here when I was your age.” He looked around at the familiar pile of rubble. ”I got bored of playing alone, though. Once, I insisted a footman accompany me so that I'd have someone to slay.”

Edmond blinked. ”I haven't got a footman, sir.”

”No,” Jared said, his smile fading. ”I suppose you haven't.”

”I don't mind being alone,” Edmond said, absently swinging his sword at the ground. ”I'm always king that way. One day I shall go to London where I shall have footmen.”

Jared smiled and put his hand to the boy's head. ”I have every confidence you will.” He wanted to say more, to ask the child how he fared here at Broderick Abbey, if he helped his father in his work. But Edmond had found something on the ground to fascinate him-he was digging the point of his sword at whatever it was-and Jared realized he had no idea how to talk to a young boy. He felt inept, incapable of speaking the appropriate language.

He stepped back. ”Carry on, then,” he said, and turned, walking back to the mare. He had one last look at Edmond before riding off, but Edmond's attention was elsewhere.

Back at the abbey, Jared sought out Ava and found her in the blue drawing room. She was reading a letter, her head bent over a writing table, her eyes squinting.

”Good morning,” he said.

She started, and quickly picked up the letter she was reading and folded it.

”What are you reading?” he asked absently as he strolled into the room, his eyes on her face.

Ava blinked, stuffing the letter into her pocket. ”Nothing, my lord. Just a bit of old news,” she said, and looked at him expectantly.