twenty-four
Jo had thought herself so much more level-headed than those book heroines who were swept off their feet by a handsome suitor. But now that her suitor was her Teddy, and he was not merely handsome but the finest specimen of man that had ever walked the earth, she found herself floating on air.
And when he easily picked her in his arms, their lips not parting for a second, and carried her to the couch, she quite literally lost her head.
This kiss was nothing like the other kisses, back in London.
Those had been tentative, shy, half-fear half-hunger, their first attempts at tasting each other as they had longed to do for years. This kiss was different. Laurie moved his jaw, deepening the kiss with the hunger of years of restraint finally unleashed.
His long fingers cradled her face as though she were something precious, breakable; her fingers twisted into the folds of his cravat, slightly trembling, burning-hot. Their mouths moved together in such perfect accord she felt she might shatter as the intensity grew and grew, stealing her breath, her sanity. All sense of reason.
She was lost in the kiss, lost in him, abandoning herself to his taste, his touch. Finally, she thought as his left hand travelled to her back, sending waves of heat down the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck. Finally, this is what it means to let go, to fall.
And as before, he is here to catch me.
She allowed herself to sink deeper and deeper into his kiss. Into him.
He was cradling her on his chest, her feet on the couch, his long, tapered body coiled tightly around hers. Because of her. She did not know where she ended and he began. She did not have room or time for breath, for thought, for anything at all but him.
Teddy lowered her slowly onto the couch, his palm resting at the small of her back, steadying her; and it was a good thing he was holding on to her so tightly, because she thought she might vanish. He moaned softly against her lips, his chest shuddering with the release of all this pent-up longings, and she barely existed. Her bones turned into honey; she was barely breathing.
Don’t let me fall, she thought at him, as she opened her lips more for him to explore her.
“Is this real?”
he murmured against her lips.
“I am surely dreaming. Or I have died and gone to heaven. Yes, that’s definitely it.”
She blinked up at him, dazed and breathless, the tips of her fingers on the hard line of his jaw. When had her hands begun exploring his face? She had not realized it. His own hands were tangled in her curls, and by the looks of him, he appeared to be having a floating experience like hers.
He had his eyes closed, as if he did not want to wake up.
“Oh, it is real,”
Jo murmured.
“Trust me, this is not the kind of thing that seems possible even in dreams. And I should know; I have been reliving your kisses in my dreams for months now.”
Laurie froze in surprise. He pulled away to survey her face in wonder.
“You have been dreaming?”
he asked in that reverent tone she was beginning to become an addict to. “Of me?”
Jo nodded, hiding her reddening cheeks against his waistcoat.
Laurie laughed—a low, astonished sound—and kissed her again, deeper, hungrier. Her hands went to his shoulders, his waist, his shirt. She pulled him closer by the lapels, and he groaned as he pressed her against his chest. His body hollowed out to make room for hers: they fit perfectly.
“You taste…”
she began to murmur into his mouth, and then forgot what she was about to say, because his hand was trailing a path down her collarbone that made her absolutely lose all control.
“Feral? Starved?”
Laurie murmured as he buried his face in the hollow of her neck, his voice muffled as he placed kiss after delicious kiss there.
“Because that’s what I am.”
Me too, Jo thought, but there was no more time for words. Me too. Starved for you. For years.
…
He only let her go for a second, to look searchingly into her eyes and drawl:
“You are not going to meet any more men.”
Jo was so disoriented by all the kissing and touching and feeling and wanting, that she was sure she had misheard him.
“Did you say ‘men’?”
she asked.
“Gentlemen suitors… Sir John’s Penelope suitors.”
“Penelope?”
She had definitely lost her mind. Words no longer made sense.
“From the Odyssey,”
Laurie was getting impatient. No, not impatient. Jealous. The boy was jealous. Oh, this was so delicious, she could barely contain herself.
“Don’t pretend you don’t understand.”
He was positively sullen.
“Stop laughing!”
he said through gritted teeth.
“It is too funny, I can’t help it.”
“You won’t meet any more of them. Say you won’t.”
“What on earth are you going on about?”
His hand disappeared into his hair. It looked as if he were tugging it with the intention of ripping it out entirely. Definitely funny. Laurie shut his eyes tightly.
“I heard about the s-suitors Sir John has been bringing to the house.”
Laurie was having difficulty even saying the word ‘suitors’.
“You are not going to see any more of them, you hear?”
Jo could barely suppress a giggle. He looked so comical—so fierce. So desperate. If she did not laugh, she would swoon. She could not decide which was worse—or more delicious.
“Since when do you tell me what to do and what not to?”
she asked, pretending to be in a huff.
“I haven’t seen you for years.”
“Jo, It was barely seven months,”
he swallowed as if the words hurt. The poor man is in genuine pain; I should not make him suffer so. But oh, what excellent fun it was to have a man so jealous over her. Almost made her feel extremely beautiful.
“I am serious, Jo. I was going out of my mind. Some were scholars, for pity’s sake! A professor… What was his name? Bear something.”
“Lord Baer,”
Jo supplied helpfully.
“Chairman of the German Institute of Mathematics.”
Laurie visibly shuddered and somehow managed to look affronted and confused at the same time at the idea that she knew the man’s name and profession. Jo was enjoying herself hugely.
“You won’t see him anymore. Or anyone else,”
Laurie said, his body as tense as a rod.
“You will not see any other gentlemen. Anyone other than me.”
“Oh that’s rich coming from the man who has every female eye trained on him wherever he goes,”
Jo said, straightening what was left of her robe. There was no hope for her hair—besides, Laurie’s fingers were still buried in it, and she had no intention of letting her move them anytime soon.
“What are you talking about?”
Laurie sounded completely at a loss.
“You always have a women or two hanging off each arm. They fawn over you, and they…”
“I haven’t noticed,”
he shrugged.
“You haven’t noticed?”
She was beginning to sound desperate and she did not like it one bit. The days of being desperate and angry and afraid were long gone. Or at least they should be.
“All I see is you. All I have ever seen,”
Laurie said simply.
Jo groaned, fighting the urge to grasp his face in her two hands and bring it to his lips, kiss him senseless.
“Are you not here because of the letter I wrote to you?”
she asked instead, her voice trembling precariously.
Laurie shook his head.
“That letter was… ridiculous to say the least, but I was already preparing to come when I received it.”
“Oh? Why?”
“Because…”
Laurie turned his face away, but not before she could see that his neck was turning crimson-red.
“Because when I learned about your suitors, I became something I never thought I would be: insanely jealous.”
“How did you hear of the—of the men?”
she asked, curiously.
“Amy wrote of them to me. She found it extremely droll, but, secretly, I think she wanted me to come here and see if you were all right.
So Amy had written to him. Had probably been sending him all of Jo and Meg’s news for months. Traitor.
Then again, maybe this correspondence had been what Justin had mistaken for an engagement. The ‘betrayal’ Amy had written to her about was a completely different thing, after all. Maybe it was for getting herself engaged when they had both decided they would never marry. Maybe that was why she had not informed her of the fact either.
I must write to her.
“Ridiculously jealous, Jo,”
Laurie was saying.
“Of course I am. Insanely, dreadfully so. Do not smile like that!”
But she could not stop smiling. This was possibly the best thing that had ever happened. Well, apart from everything else that had happened tonight.
But he was not laughing. He looked like he was in pain.
“Stop it, Teddy,”
Jo told him gently.
“It no longer matters. Why weren’t you this good of an actor during our Christmas plays?”
“I am not acting right now,”
he said, his voice intense, his gaze piercing.
“I am about to perish. Listen, I was a fool to leave you like that. I regret it, have done from the first moment. I left because I couldn’t control myself around you, but I—that’s no excuse for leaving you, Jo. Can you ever forgive me?”
“Why did you stay away for so long?”
she asked.
“I nearly died without you.”
He tightened his hold on her, his breath catching. He let out that ugly little laugh of his.
“You speak of dying,”
he murmured.
“I felt that I had to kill a part of myself. The part that wanted you.”
He swallowed.
“The best part.”
Jo was silent for a heartbeat. A very loud one—she felt as if her heart was beating so loudly it must echo off the tapestries on the wall.
“If things have to change…”
she began.
“There is no ‘if’, Jo. They always change.”
His tone grew gentle again—he knew how she disliked change.
“I know. I… I wanted to tell you about something I discovered while I was alone. And it is this: things always change, I am starting to accept it, not very well, but I have started. And yet, there is a constant. It’s me. I am still the same—in here.”
She pressed a hand to her heart. Laurie was watching her lips as she spoke, in utter concentration.
“I can stay true to myself, to the things that matter. Even though I hope I will be changing for the better as my life goes on, I still know that I am safe. Safe from the sudden shock of change that used to overwhelm me.”
Laurie just looked at her, his heart in his eyes.
“But then,”
she went on, “I realized, since things are going to change anyway, I’d rather they change with you. Not apart from you. With you.”
And then she couldn’t speak anymore, because he cupped her jaw in his hand and brought her face to his. Before she could take a breath, he was kissing her again.
Dear Beth,
We did not sleep all night. By dawn, poor Laurie was ready to drop, so Meg took pity on him and told me to let him rest or he would die.
Laurie was barely conscious at this point, his skin hot with fever, and I knew she was right. I also knew, just by the look on her face, that she had realized exactly what was happening between Teddy and me.
She looked alternatively bemused and severely disappointed.
After we had put a protesting Teddy into a bed, and forced him to at least try to go to sleep, Meg told me:
“I did not think you had it in you, Josephine.”
“And what, pray tell, does this mean?”
I asked her, my hackles immediately rising.
I do that, you know. I instantly become defensive and quarrelsome when I am anxious. I wonder what Laurie will make of it. Of course, he knows that I am like that already. But still. Won’t make for a very good wife.
“I thought you would torture the poor boy for at least a decade more before accepting him,”
Meg told me bluntly.
“You knew he had proposed?”
“No thanks to you,”
Meg said.
“I guessed that was what had happened when he cut off all contact with you. What did you do to the poor man?”
“I rejected him,” I said.
“Why on earth would you do that, when you have been in love with him since you were little?”
“He did say everyone around us knew he was in love with me,”
I said, feeling the most embarrassing blush spread all the way from my cheeks down to my neck.
“That would be obvious to a blind man,”
our sister pronounced, unimpressed.
“What was more subtle was your devotion to him. I do not know when that devotion turned to infatuation, but at some point it became obvious to me that it had, even though you tried valiantly to hide it, even from yourself.”
I was shocked. Who knew that anyone was paying that much attention to me—and not only to criticize my manners? Apparently, she had.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
I asked her, still trying to pick a fight.
“Because,”
she said, almost as calmly as her John would have, “it was not infatuation. It was love. And you needed to find that out for yourself.”
Can you believe her?
So now it turns out I have two siblings I need to murder.
Eternally,
Your sister