Chapter Fourteen #2
“Stealth is another thing I retained from the war.” He opened his arms wide. “Pray, tell me I didn’t waste it.”
She didn’t hesitate, flying into his waiting embrace with a happy, albeit quiet, laugh. “You did not waste it, my beloved knight. I am oh so glad you are here. I fear you have turned me into an unrepentant wanton.”
“Good.” He lowered his head and kissed her breathless, then swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed.
“I could not sleep for thinking of you. Lying here in your thin night rail.” He trailed kisses along her jawline and down her throat, tickling ever lower with his exquisite mouth.
Cupping her breasts, he groaned as he nibbled each of them, then untied her chemise and slid it off her shoulders.
“I am a greedy man, my love. I fear I shall never get my fill of you.”
“Good.” She rucked up his shirt and pulled it off over his head. Who had time for ridiculous buttons? She arched into him, molding herself to his body. “Velvet-smooth skin covering rock-hard muscle. I cannot get my fill of you either.”
“And remember Scotland,” he said in a raspy whisper, hoarse with need. “There, we would be man and wife already.”
“I love Scotland.” She bit back a moan as he kissed his way lower, pushed apart her legs, and set about tasting her. “We must be quiet,” she whispered as he pulled her legs up over his shoulders. “You must not make me shout. There is no storm to drown my cries tonight.”
“I love your cries and don’t give a damn if the entire world hears your pleasure.”
She clenched her teeth and fisted her hands in the sheets as he ran his tongue deeper.
How in heaven’s name would she ever keep from shrieking?
She bucked as a warning wave of bliss washed across her.
She was so close. Turning her head into the pillow, she grabbed it and jammed it against her face, biting into it as he pushed her into ecstasy.
Wave after wave crashed through her, making her need to scream oh so badly.
But she bit the pillow harder and restrained herself to a faint moan.
Jansen pulled the pillow away as he settled inside her and began the wonderful dance their bodies knew and loved. “You are going to smother yourself, my angel. We cannot have that.”
She tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled him down for a long, deep kiss. As he drove in harder, she moaned into his mouth. She couldn’t help it. They fit together so nicely. In fact, nicely didn’t begin to describe the way he made her feel when they were one.
Her moans made him pound harder, deeper, if that were possible.
This time her bliss returned with a vengeance, sending her into the highest heights of pleasure.
She bucked and almost screamed. He covered her mouth with his, swallowing the sound to keep their clandestine love hidden.
Then he rumbled with a barely contained growl, shuddering as he drove in deep and stayed.
As he collapsed on top of her, both of them breathing hard, he rained kisses along her neck and shoulder.
“Gads alive, woman,” he said in gasping whisper. “Quiet is difficult with you.”
She started giggling and struggled to stop. “Quiet is most difficult, my sinful knight, but it is also most exciting. Do you not think so?”
“It is most something, my love. That is for certain.” He rolled to the side and pulled her into the curve of his arm. “Might I be allowed to stay for a little while?”
“You may stay for as long as you like.” She rose and smiled down at him. “I love you, Jansen. You have made me love you more than you will ever know.”
He tenderly touched her cheek. “And I love you, my angel, with a ferocity that frightens the bloody hell out of me.”
“Good.” She stretched forward and brushed a kiss to his shoulder. “Mama always said a little fear was good for the soul.”
Jansen laughed. “Then I am most definitely heaven bound.”
*
Jansen had fully expected the Bow Street Runner’s report to name Ambrose as the blackmailer, even though he wasn’t quite certain how his brother might have come about information on the Reader’s Dare Club.
Of course, Ambrose and Aurelia were quite close.
Perhaps she had told him, and Ambrose possessed such a hatred for those of the ton, he had chosen to profit from it.
But according to the paper in front of Jansen, everyone at Winterstone Townhouse had been cleared. Even Ambrose.
Mr. Rathbun was now requesting permission to interrogate the Broadmere household.
Problem was, no one would be there other than a few servants to maintain the residence, since everyone was coming to the country for the wedding.
Mr. Rathbun and the mystery of the blackmailer would have to wait.
At least they hadn’t heard from the blackguard again—much to everyone’s relief.
And there was also the matter of Broadmere himself being told about the club and the blackmail.
Joy was not looking forward to that conversation and refused to allow Jansen to handle it for her.
The distinct feeling of being watched made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He looked down to his left and discovered Gastric studying him. “What say you, old boy? Ready to be friends?”
The dog cocked his head but didn’t wag his tail.
At least he didn’t growl either. That was an improvement.
The foxhounds no longer growled, but they gave him a wide berth.
Never had Jansen ever had so much trouble with animals liking him.
He didn’t understand it. It was as if he had smeared some sort of dog repellent on himself.
“Feebson said you received a letter,” Joy said as she entered the vast Wolfebourne library.
“The butler is reporting on me?” Jansen found that somewhat insulting.
“Don’t take offense. Feebson is as protective as the dogs. You will eventually win him over as you are winning over the four-legged challenges. I noticed you have a friend here with you. Good afternoon, Gastric.” Joy held out her hand.
The rotund dog ambled over, wagging his tail in a large circle.
“I have yet to get a greeting like that or the slightest friendly woof, but at least there are no more growls.”
“Progress, then.” She bent and rubbed the canine’s long, floppy ears and scratched him under the chin.
“Yes, progress.” Jansen offered her the letter. “Mr. Rathbun’s report.”
Joy chewed on her bottom lip as she read, cringing more the longer she stared at the page. Pitiful in her despondency, she handed the letter back to him. “How can it possibly be anyone at Broadmere House? How?”
“If you were to guess, who would you suspect the most?”
With a slow shake of her head, she threw up her hands.
“No one. It cannot be anyone at Broadmere House. Mr. Rathbun has to have gotten this wrong. It simply does not add up. Seri, Felicity, or Merry would never. Chance knows nothing about the truth of the club, and most of the servants don’t know either. ”
“Servants know everything, my angel. You know that.” He refolded the letter and tucked it back inside the inner pocket of his jacket. “Try to view it impartially. Look at Broadmere House as if you were an outsider looking in.”
“I cannot think of a single servant who might bear a grudge against us. We treat all our people fairly.” She wrung her hands together as she paced in a slow circle. “And as I said before, my sisters would never do this.”
“And your brother?”
“How could Chance be the blackmailer? He thinks the Reader’s Dare Club is a Tuesday meeting to discuss books.”
“Are you certain?”
She snorted like an angry bull. “I am not certain of anything at this point other than I am ready for it to be finished and done with. I wish I had never started that ladies’ club.
” She nodded at Jansen’s pocket. “Are you so certain that Mr. Rathbun isn’t mistaken?
I know he is a Bow Street Runner, but everyone makes mistakes. ”
“I agree, but perhaps we shall learn more once we speak to your brother.”
“We?”
“Yes—I intend to be a part of that conversation.” Jansen resettled his stance, knowing a battle was about to break out, but on this one, he would not relent. “You are not facing him alone.”
“He is my brother. It is not as if he is going to hurt me. He’ll simply gift me with one of his infamous tirades.”
“Be that as it may, I am going to be a part of that conversation. End of discussion.”
Both her fair brows rose higher, a sure sign he had hit a nerve. “End of discussion?” she repeated. “You are not my husband yet and have no right to use such language with me. In fact, even after you are my husband, I would strongly recommend you avoid it then as well.”
“Married or not, it is my duty to protect you. Physically, emotionally, however is needed. I am your safe haven, my love. Whenever you are threatened, you should be able to run into my arms and feel protected.”
“I do not need to be protected from my brother. Trust me. He is not fond of eels in his bed and has learned to tread lightly with me.”
“Fine. But I will be there when you speak with him. It is only right.”
“You are impossible.”
“And you are exquisite.”
“That is not how insults work.” She glared at him, but her determined resolve was softening. He could see it in her eyes.
“I would never insult you, my love.” He patted his other pocket. “Especially not when our special license merely awaits the arrival of your family.”
“So, what do we tell Mr. Rathbun?” she asked, and her tone suggested this was a test to see if Jansen answered correctly.
“We tell him to double-check his facts beyond a shadow of a doubt regarding Broadmere House, and he will not speak to anyone in the household until we return.” Jansen couldn’t resist a grin. “Correct?”
Her smile turned wry. “Correct.”
*
“I brought the dark-blue sapphires that Mama always said would be yours someday.” Serendipity fastened the precious necklace around Joy’s throat, smiling at her in the dressing table mirror.