Chapter Twelve #3
Searching the walls, he spotted several hooks on the same side of the room as the hearth.
They had to have been placed there for just that purpose.
At least the garments would be close to the fire and hopefully almost dry by morning.
He hung it in place, then turned back to Joy and nearly choked at the sight of his beloved angel.
She had undone her glorious hair, releasing her shimmering locks, which had been turned an even darker, richer gold by the rain.
“Forgive me,” she said as he stood there, staring. “When it is wet, it grows so heavy that the pins pinch and pull.”
He fetched a blanket from the bed and handed it to her. “Your beauty stuns me, my lady. There is nothing to forgive. Allow me to help you with the rest of your wet things.”
“Thank you,” she said so quietly that he almost didn’t hear her. She turned and pulled her hair aside, revealing the buttons on the back of her inner dress.
His own hands now trembling, he undid the buttons and couldn’t resist kissing her bare shoulder as he peeled the wet material away.
She caught her breath, thrilling him even more.
After he had hung that garment on a hook, she stood in nothing but her chemise, stays, and stockings. As he reached for the laces, she said, “Jansen?”
Frozen in place, he wet his lips but didn’t touch her. “Yes, my love?”
“Can you stop going so slowly? It is like removing a bandage stuck to a wound. If you pull it away slowly, the pain lasts longer than if you simply rip it off in one fast yank.”
He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “Gladly, my love.” He made short work of the corset, silently cursing the wet laces that kept trying to knot. As it fell to the floor, she turned and handed him the blanket.
“Hold this out and close your eyes while I remove the rest. All right?”
Aching but dutiful, he did as he was told. “Ready, my lady.”
Wet plops on the floor almost made him groan because he knew they were her stockings and chemise. She was naked. His angel was naked, and here he stood with his eyes shut. Gads alive, how he wished to open them.
“No peeking.”
“No, my lady. Of course not.”
She took the blanket out of his hands and after another moment said, “All right. I am ready.”
He was ready as well, but he doubted she meant the same thing.
She had wrapped herself in the blanket, leaving nothing but her bare shoulders showing as she sipped her wine. He had never seen a lovelier sight.
She nodded at him. “Your turn.”
“Allow me to hang your things first, my lady.” He nearly groaned as he finished hanging the rest of her garments on the hooks and nails. The damp clothing smelled of her, of roses and warm, enticing woman.
“You know,” he said as he removed his muddy boots and set them by the door, “if we were in Scotland, we would already be considered man and wife because I failed to correct the innkeeper when he called us that.”
“We are not in Scotland, sir. We are just outside the Lake District.”
“Yet and still.”
“Yes,” she said as she nibbled on a crust of bread, reminding him of a mouse stealing a treat. “Yet and still.”
He stripped off his coat and jacket and undid the buttons of his waistcoat. “I fear all the hooks and nails are filled, my lady. Whatever shall I do with my clothes?”
She rolled her eyes and placed one of the chairs in front of the fire.
“There you are, sir.” She went to the pitcher and bowl on the dresser, poured some of the hot water from the kettle into the bowl, and started scrubbing her face and arms. “I suppose it was very rude of me to eat a bit before I washed.”
“Nothing about you is rude, my lady,” he said as he stripped off his shirt.
She turned and stared at him, motionless and open mouthed.
It was then that he remembered the scar on his shoulder. “From the war. The surgeon swears the bullet passed through, but I am not so sure. Sometimes, I still feel it.” He moved closer, took her hand, and trailed her fingers across it. “It only hurts when it rains.”
“It is bloody well pouring, Jansen.” But she didn’t take her hand away.
He laughed and pressed her palm tighter against his flesh. “Then it must be you, my angel. Healing my scars. Taking away all my pain.”
She stared up at him and wet her lips. “So, in Scotland, we would be considered married?”
“We would, my love. And here in England, we will be married as soon as I can get a special license. Who needs banns?”
“Yes,” she whispered, moving closer still and placing her other hand on his bare chest as well. “Who needs banns?”
He slid his hands along her bare shoulders, up her graceful neck, and cradled her face between them. “I adore you, my angel. Adore you more than you will ever know.”
She wet her lips again. “Show me,” she said in a breathy whisper.
“Gladly, my love. Gladly.” He took her mouth, kissing her with everything he had ever felt for her. Elderberry wine and excitement flavored her lips, her tongue. “You taste divine.”
She smiled and pulled him down for more. “So do you.”
He nibbled and kissed along her jaw, down her neck, and along her shoulder.
With an impatient yank, he pulled the blanket away and let it drop to the floor, revealing her beauty, of which he had only dreamed.
Skin like silk, sweet as warmed honey, the taste of her made him even more ravenous.
He worked his way downward, sampling each of her perfect breasts, nibbling and sucking on her pert rosettes as she arched her back and moaned.
And then he kissed his way lower as he knelt, cupping her perfect hips and breathing her in with every nibble.
“Oh my,” she gasped, burying her fingers in his hair.
“I adore you,” he said, pressing his mouth where he knew no man had ever touched her before, making her make the sounds that would only get better as the evening wore on. He smiled and dipped his tongue deeper. The storm wasn’t the only thing raging this night.
She pulled his hair and cried out, shuddering so hard that she nearly stumbled.
It was time to go to bed.
He eased her back and laid her across it, kneeling and placing her legs over his shoulders. He would take her to the pinnacle and beyond before he joined her in bed.
“Oh, Jansen…never have I… Oh my.”
He ran his tongue deeper while teasing the nubbin of her sex with his thumb. “Enjoy, my love. This is just the beginning.”
“But—Oh, Jansen.” She shuddered again and clenched her thighs tightly against either side of his head. And then she cried out and shook with wave after wave of pleasure.
He kissed his way back up her body, worshipping the honey of her skin, licking and nibbling her sweetness, of which he had only dreamed.
“No wonder we need chaperones,” she said, still breathless. “That was absolutely…”
“And we are only just beginning, my love.” He paused long enough to divest himself of his trousers and stretched across her, only to discover that crossways on the bed was not good at all. He lifted her and set things to rights, stretching across her. “I love you, Joy. Always will…I swear it.”
Staring up into his eyes, she cupped his face between her hands. “I never knew what it was to love someone the way I love you. I didn’t know such feelings were possible.”
He kissed her deeply as she wrapped her legs around him, hugged him with her thighs, and arched to encourage him to complete the union that begged—no, that demanded—to be completed.
He thrust himself inside her hot wetness, not going slow because his lady love had told him slow was bad.
She winced for the briefest moment, then smiled and matched his pace with her own.
The ancient dance began, and it was perfect.
The bed creaked and groaned. The storm raged.
But they didn’t hear anything other than themselves.
Determined to bring her to ecstasy before he reached his, he struggled to maintain control. “Gads alive,” he groaned. “Gads alive.”
“Gads alive, yes!” she shouted, surpassing the thundering tempest outside with one of her own.
And that undid him. He pounded into her, harder, faster, then exploded with a ferocity that made him shout.
Breathless and spent, he collapsed, locking his arms in time to keep from crushing her.
She hugged him tighter, kissing his cheek. “No wonder we need chaperones,” she repeated in a breathless whisper. “To think we could do this all the time.”
He chuckled and kissed her again. “The night is young, my lady—and there is no chaperone in sight.”
“Indeed, sir. Yes, indeed.”