Chapter Thirty
Hetty
When they had first met, Hetty had wondered how it would feel to be on the receiving end of the Earl of Belhaven’s passion. She had imagined it would be a singular kind of experience for a lucky woman, and she had spent many sinful moments straining to imagine herself in that very position.
Now Hetty had the immense pleasure of knowing that being cherished by a man as attentive and diligent as Jasper went beyond what she had ever envisioned. She had almost lost her mind entirely as he bathed her, the pleasure of his touch on her naked skin too much to bear.
But what was even better was bringing him pleasure in return.
He was hot and hard in her hand. The man had brought her to unfathomed peaks with naught but his tongue and fingers. She could hardly think for imagining what he could do to her with that . She gripped a little tighter, watching as his head fell back against the pillow, a soft, almost disbelieving grunt escaping his lips. He was barely breathing as she moved her hand up and down the firm, silken length of him.
“Hetty,” he gasped. His head still lolled against the pillow, so he did not expect it when her mouth closed around him, causing him to groan like a man on the verge of death. She relished the heat of him and how he twitched against her tongue. She hadn’t known she could be so wanton, driven so wild by the man she loved. She moved her hand faster as he swelled against her lips and tongue, filling her mouth with his delicious heft.
“My God, Hetty, you must…” He gasped again, his entire body tensing beneath her careful exploration. “You must stop, love, before it is too late.”
She released him, and he was on her in a flash, managing to tuck her beneath him as he kissed and licked her, nipping lightly at her breasts, seemingly desperate to consume as much of her as he could.
She gasped as the heat of him nudged at her entrance. He paused, all control, and looked her in the eye. She knew he waited for her permission, and that he would stop instantly if she wished it. There was power in knowing that. Comfort, too. But she wanted him so much she thought she might burn to nothing if she did not get some relief.
“I love you,” was all she could manage to say. It was answer enough. His eyes glittered with emotion as he braced himself above her, raising one hand to lick his fingers, bringing them to where she was already wet and aching for him. He smiled at her readiness, and she gasped when he pushed inside.
She knew then that it didn’t matter if she could not recall being there before with another. As Jasper sank into her, she realized their respective pasts could not touch them here, could not shatter what they shared, after all they had been through. Their fates had been sealed long ago. This joining was merely a confirmation. One of many.
Her fingers traced over his spine and shoulder blades, delighting in the firmness of his muscles, the rippling power in his body, built by the labor of his own two hands. She locked her feet below his hips, urging him deeper as pleasure tightened within her. He shook, gasping against her neck. His thrusts were bringing her to the edge once more, scorching heat welling within her.
“Yes,” she urged him onward, begging for that release. “Yes, Jasper,” she cried, as they fell over the edge together, Jasper shuddering, Hetty boneless with pleasure. He slumped against her, burying his head in the crook of her neck, his body twitching, fully spent. Hetty squeezed her legs tighter around him, unwilling to let go of that which they had found together.
“Keep doing that and we’ll never leave this room,” he said into her ear, taking the time to tease a trail of kisses along the slope of her neck.
“That isn’t the threat you think it is,” she replied, smiling into his soft hair.
But exhaustion tugged at them both. Jasper rolled over, putting his arm around her, and she settled with her head on his chest, listening as their hearts beat in unison and he gently traced his fingers along her spine. They lay like that for some time, silent but blissful.
Eventually, Jasper spoke. “I’d offer to bring you some water, like a gentleman, but I’m not sure where I’d find a glass.”
“Allow me,” she said, rising and walking naked to the bathroom. She wondered why she did not feel the need to be more modest, but she and Jasper had bared much more than their bodies to each other.
When she returned with a glass of cool water, Jasper’s eyes were riveted on her. “We’re going to have to go on an extended honeymoon, as I will be banning clothing until I’ve had my fill of you.”
She laughed. “Shouldn’t be more than two or three—”
“Years, give or take.”
She smiled wickedly, offering him the glass and studying the room they had found themselves in. A guest room, she suspected, with very few personal touches that might bring back memories. She pulled on Jasper’s shirt, wandering over to a painting of a seaside cottage, knowing before finding the signature that her father had not painted it.
Jasper joined her at the wall. “You said this didn’t feel like home any longer?”
“Memories of my father won’t be found here. I didn’t know it but we had spent less than a year at Sutton House. Apparently, my father was something of a nomad. An American , in fact. Claremont said we rarely lived anywhere more than a couple of seasons.” She paused, looking back at Jasper. “If he lives anywhere now, it is here,” she said, gesturing to her head.
“Here, too, I think,” he replied, covering her heart with his palm. She covered his hand with hers, holding him to her chest. “Do you wish to talk about what happened?”
She knew what he meant, was grateful that he asked. “No, not yet.” She wasn’t ready to divulge all of her dark and hopeless thoughts, the fears that had ruled her in their brief separation. Not after the joy they had just shared. It was enough that they had found their way back to each other. That they had a lifetime before them. And she was more than tired now, but the idea of sleep did not fill her with dread, not with the man she loved beside her. “Would you mind terribly if we simply slept here, for a time?”
“Mind?” he asked, incredulous. “Hetty, there isn’t an activity I’d enjoy more than sleeping next to you, save for one.”
They climbed back into bed, both too tired to do much more than hold each other.
Before she fell asleep, Hetty couldn’t help but think Jasper Maycott had come a long way from the man beholden to an oath sworn over a deathbed. He had feared losing her, had come close to it, for all he knew, and it had not destroyed him. She imagined that back at Mulgrave Hall there were more than a few victims of the intensity of his efforts at retrieving her, but those were things that could be smoothed over. They were the people that loved Jasper for all his faults and virtues in equal measure, as she did.
Hetty’s greatest fear had been discovering she was alone in the world. A woman without a past or a future, without a place she belonged in or a purpose to propel her. Now she had a foundation to build upon. They both did, together.
“Thank you for coming for me,” she whispered, not sure if he was sleeping. Hetty might have rescued herself, but there was something to be said for how they had pushed each other to find a way out of their respective darknesses.
His arms tightened around her. “I will always come for you.”
They fell asleep like that, entwined, unwilling to let go. When Hetty woke a few hours later, it was to the sight of Jasper studying her, lit up by the warm afternoon sun, his eyes softer than she had ever seen them, his expression utterly unburdened.
“Marry me, Hetty,” he said for the second time that day.
She leaned forward and kissed the man she loved, smiling against his lips. “First you must take me home, Jasper,” she said, knowing it was answer enough.