Chapter 3
Upon returning home, Sebastian took the stairs to Jane’s chambers two at a time, hoping that she was recovering from the wedding night abed. She was not, only confirming his suspicions that their coupling had not been as life-altering for her as it had been for him.
He inquired about her whereabouts with the housekeeper and was instructed to find her in a storage room off the kitchen, where she was taking inventory of preserves, flavoring agents, and medicinal herbs.
As he approached the doorway, Sebastian heard her chatelaine clinking as the household keys attached to her waist knocked against each other while she worked. Thinking of Jane nearby at last had the effect of causing his hair to stand slightly on end and his cock to awaken.
He adjusted himself through the superfine breeches that had only gotten tighter on the drive home. He groaned upon catching sight of his love alone in the capacious storeroom, illuminated by two oil lamps.
She turned at the noise, and her face broke into a wide smile. “My lord,” she said, extending both hands forward to take his. Sebastian grasped her ungloved fingers in his own before kissing her fingertips then gently kissing her delectable lips.
“My perfect wife, how do you feel today?” he asked.
“I am quite well,” she said, resting her head against his chest, where it fit just so because of her shorter stature.
“You are suffering no ill effects from the wedding night?” he asked in a low voice.
She rubbed her cheek against him like an affectionate cat. “None indeed,” she said, using the same volume. “And you? Are you suffering ill effects of our wedding night?”
“I am, Jane,” he said, summoning the courage to be honest with his bride.
Her eyes flew to his, concern marring her smooth brow. “My love?”
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” said Sebastian. “About what we shared last night.”
“It was very nice, wasn’t it?”
“For me, it was more than nice,” he replied. “But I fear that I have done you a disservice because I wish for you to see the act in stronger terms than merely nice.”
Jane traced the folds of her husband’s cravat. “I hope that, in time, as I gain more experience in our marital bed, I’ll satisfy you in every way,” she said.
“No, hush, you’re too good already,” he said. “I find myself both unequal to you and hard at the thought of what you did to me on your first night as a married woman.”
“Sebastian, I hope you don’t think that I come to our marriage with…” she said, fidgeting in agitation, “with experience of the bedchamber. I expected to bleed more and feel great pain, but please trust that I came to you as a maid.”
He cradled his precious bride’s head to his chest, hoping to reassure her. “Everything was just as it should be last night, and I’ll never forget the gift you gave me,” he said tenderly. “I only hope to prove your equal in the bedchamber.”
“It is I who is fortunate to have a virile husband,” she said, sliding her hand down the front of his waistcoat until it brushed against the placket of his breeches.
“I would like nothing more than to unbutton my trousers, but they must stay on today,” he said.
“Are you sore as well, darling?”
“You are sore? But you said you suffered no ill effects?” he asked in consternation.
“That is to be expected, isn’t it?” she said. “I was told that a few days of soreness can be anticipated, and I should bathe in a herbal tincture that Mrs. Meers vouched would allow me to move comfortably after the wedding night.”
“Your poor pussy,” he said. “I’m tempted to lick it better, but I fear I’d be unable to resist the urge to test your aching little hole.”
“You say such things and this storeroom grows quite hot,” she said, burying her face in his cravat.
“Do your lips swell in anticipation of receiving my cock, Janie?”
“My lips?” she said, discreetly moistening her lips with her tongue.
“The lips of your cunny,” he said, his voice rough.
She raised her head to look into his eyes questioningly.
“Would that this room had a mirror. I’d show you the wonders below your own skirts,” he said. “No matter.”
He cast about the shelves, looking at bottles. “These, bay leaves,” he said. “Imagine these are the lips of your exquisite quim.”
“Bay leaves?” she questioned.
“Close enough,” he said, plucking two from the bottle. “My cock threatens to punch through the fabric of my trousers, so I may not be selecting the best herb, but it shall suffice for an afternoon anatomy lesson.”
“I do like you teaching me, Sebastian,” said Jane.
“Then watch closely, my love, because you’re going to receive instruction on your own pleasure,” he said, beginning to regain confidence in his own prowess. “These leaves represent the leaves or lips of your flower.”
Jane nodded, making a note on a fresh piece of paper.
“Are you taking notes on an erotic lesson?” asked Sebastian, his eyebrows flying to his hairline.
“Coded notes,” said Jane, showing him the page. “Using the cipher we established so we could pass notes during musicales.”
“My brilliant wife,” he said, relaxing once again. “I should have known you’d find a safe way to record our confidences.”
Jane dipped the pen again and prepared to continue her notes.
“As I was saying,” said Sebastian, “these leaves represent the petals of your flower.”
Jane tentatively raised her hand. “The furred petals of my flower? Those bay leaves have no fur, but I suppose we could hunt for some leaves with mold to stand in for the—”
“Ah, yes, there are also those petals. Here I was thinking of inner petals, but as a beautiful flower you have so many,” he said, casting about for the bottle of bay leaves again and extracting two more.
“Now we have the exterior, which is covered on the outside by your downy brown hair, and these two on the inside that guard your most precious treasures.”
Scribbling hurriedly, Jane took down the lesson.
“At the top of the interior petals lies a pearl that likes to be stimulated,” he said. “Where are the peppercorns located?”
Jane consulted her inventory and quickly located a bottle. Sebastian extracted one and returned the container to the shelf.
Using a worktable, he arranged the dried spices to show Jane her anatomy. “And thus it fits together as a beautiful blooming flower, except in my responsive bride, nothing is dried like this. It’s pumping with blood and so very wet.”
Jane looked up from her notes and tentatively ran a finger along the edge of one of the bay leaves. “And where do you fit, my lord?” she asked.
“Down here, in a channel that grips me until I think I might die of pleasure,” he said while tapping the table, finding himself swept away by the lesson. “But I want to focus on you today, your pleasure.”
“Receiving your body into mine gave me great pleasure, Sebastian,” she said, shifting on her feet. “In fact, I find my flower blooming just thinking about it.”
“If I lifted your skirts, would I find you dewy and fragrant, your sweet petals pouting for the attentions of my cock?” he asked.
Jane gripped the edge of the worktable and nodded yes.
“If I were to dive beneath your shift and petticoats, would I find you receptive to my touch?”
“Most receptive,” she whispered.
He leaned over his anatomy diagram made of aromatic spices. “If I were to, say, lick your flower, would you bloom for me?”
Sebastian opened his mouth and ran his tongue up the bay leaves and then dug the tip of his tongue into the peppercorn. It was a most instructive, diverting sight. Until he coughed. And coughed again. And found that he couldn’t stop coughing.
“Oh dear, the peppercorn must have irritated your throat,” said Jane, casting about for something he could drink. “You haven’t consumed a bay leaf, have you? Please tell me you haven’t!”
Her groom doubled over, holding the worktable for support as he coughed endlessly.
Jane supplied a small bottle. “Thank goodness I just recorded this cough tonic. The label says to consume just a spoonful,” she said.
Sebastian took a swig directly from the bottle and smothered a final hacking cough.
“Oh, my poor darling,” said Jane, pulling the handkerchief from his pocket to wipe moisture from his eyes and setting his hair to rights. “Did you swallow the pepper?”
He opened his mouth to show the peppercorn. Jane used the handkerchief to remove the offending spice from his tongue.
“How did you know where I keep my handkerchief?” he asked, humbled and drooping on the worktable.
“There were only two options, and I thought that the consequences of being wrong wouldn’t be so terrible to bear,” she said.
“And I watched you offer yours to Mrs. Randall at the Waterloo celebration picnic last year and admired your savoir faire so much that I suppose I memorized the side you favor.”
“I wish I were always that man coming to the aid of elder ladies within view of my beloved,” he said, “rather than the bumbling fool attempting to seduce his wife.”
“Oh, is that what you’re doing in this storeroom?” she asked, gathering her hems until they hovered just above her ankles.
“Was doing,” he said glumly. “I’m afraid you’ve married something of a buffoon, Jane. A buffoon who uses euphemisms when he should engage in straight talk.”
She continued to draw her skirts higher. “Well, it’s fortunate that I like everything about you,” she said, “and I just so happen to be in the mood to be seduced.”
He shot up, suddenly at attention. “Did my lesson produce noticeable effects?”
“I suppose it did,” said Jane, “as did your very stimulating presence.”
Sebastian helped draw her skirts up to her waist, at which point he paused for a moment in wonder.
“You wear no drawers,” he said, taking in her legs, bare aside from garters and stockings, and her entirely unclothed nether bits.
“I know some ladies are now wearing drawers, despite their scandalous origins, but I find them rather disruptive to my walking,” said Jane. “Would you prefer I add them to my daytime wardrobe?”