Chapter Seven
Several hours later, Rafe sat at his desk in the library, reviewing the latest estate figures Sterling had submitted.
He intended to spend as much cash as he dared to buy additional sheep and cattle from some of the neighbouring farms to rebuild their dwindled stock, herds that the former manager hadn’t bothered to replenish after the inevitable losses.
The estate manager was hopeful that the lambing season, now just beginning, would produce a good supply of newborns.
Their own stock, plus what Rafe hoped to procure, would allow a consistent increase in the estate’s wool production, production that had sharply declined in the previous two years.
A light knock at the door interrupting his concentration, he looked up to see Juliana in the doorway. Memories of their congenial ride—and the rapturous night preceding it—brought a smile to his face. ‘Please, come in.’
‘If I’m not interrupting…’
‘The figures will keep,’ he said, motioning her to approach. ‘How have you spent the afternoon since our return?’
‘Being a good housewife,’ she said with a grin.
‘Making sure Jane, who’s assumed most of the cooking duties under Mrs Henderson’s supervision, will produce something edible for your dinner, checking on general household supplies, which are at low levels, but will do for the present.
I’ve yet to do a thorough inventory of linens, plate, china, cutlery and kitchen equipment, though I can tell you the wine cellar is mostly empty. ’
‘Young Taylor’s fingerprints again,’ Rafe said with a grimace. ‘My father used to keep some prime vintages.’
‘Well, the local brewers do produce superior ale, a suitable beverage for an English nobleman,’ she pointed out as she walked over.
‘I may need a large mug tonight to recover from the shock of the wine cellar depredations.’ Noting that she’d halted a step away, he said, ‘You needn’t keep your distance.’
He beckoned her closer, his body already stirring at her nearness.
He rose, and she stepped obligingly into his embrace. After giving her a soft kiss—and having to fight the urge to deepen it, he reluctantly let her go, reclaiming his seat in the desk chair before he was tempted to lure her to the sofa by the fire.
She reached out to him, then hesitated. ‘Am I permitted to touch you…as much as I please? When no one is around to observe, of course.’
‘Absolutely. I welcome your touch.’
‘Then I can do…this?’ Leaning down, she brushed her lips against the back of his neck, just above his neckcloth.
Arousal spiraling through him, he sucked in a breath, savoring the sensation of her warm breath and moist mouth playing over his bare skin.
‘You may,’ he said when, alas, she straightened. Fired by her efforts, he said, ‘But you must understand, that inspires me to do this.’
He reached up to run his fingers over her breasts, thrilled to feel the nipples harden through the fine linen layers of her chemise and gown.
Sighing, she arched her neck up and leaned into his caressing fingers. After a few delicious moments, he made himself stop, trying to curb his increasing ardor despite the arousing effect of her soft panting breaths and the gaze from her increasingly passion-glazed eyes.
‘Then you must realise, that inspires me to do…this,’ she whispered, reaching down to stroke the hardness tenting his trouser front.
Rafe groaned as a blast of sensation hardened him further. His brain totally focused on the response produced by her massaging fingers, it took a moment before he was able to reply, ‘Then I can only do this.’
Gently he pulled her closer, moving his legs apart so he could fit her body against his throbbing cock.
She shuddered against him, giving a little gasp of pleasure. ‘Which…inspires me…to do…this,’ she whispered roughly as she dragged up her skirts with one hand while with the other, struggled to pluck open the buttons of his straining trouser flap.
He held his breath until, her efforts succeeding, his cock sprang free. He gasped again as she pressed him against her, naked skin to naked skin.
Speechless now, his mind blank of anything but the imperative to pleasure, he leaned backward in his chair and drew her closer, urging her body onto his.
Innocence transformed into enticement, she chuckled low in her throat. ‘Not yet,’ she murmured, moving away.
Before he could utter an inarticulate protest, she stepped closer again, encasing him between her thighs and moving slowly up and down to rub the head of his erection against her moist center.
Then she stepped closer still, for long, exquisite moments advancing and retreating, sliding him just barely inside her passage, then out again.
Just when he thought his heart must explode from this delicious torment, she guided him within.
Yanking her skirts up to her waist, he helped her onto his lap, groaning as she wrapped her legs around him and slid him to full depth inside her.
Wrapping her arms around him, she leaned her head on his chest and went completely still.
Every particle of him screamed for movement, but she put a finger to his lips. ‘Just…feel,’ she whispered.
Ah, yes, he could feel—the hot, wet tightness of her body enclosing him, the throbbing urgency of his cock pulsing within her, the galloping beat of his heart, hers, the rising urgency of approaching climax.
Then suddenly, as if she, too, could no longer hold herself back, she began moving.
He met her movements, thrusting wildly, desperately hanging on to a sliver of control so she might reach her peak with him.
When at last she cried out, her nails scratching into his coated back, he emptied himself in a surge of sensation so intense it robbed him of breath and sight.
Stars seemed to be twinkling in his head when he was finally able to take a shuddering breath, Juliana lying limp against his chest. He hugged her close, kissing the top of her damp head, utterly spent.
Disjointed thoughts sparked and skittered through his mind, while from deep within awe and a profound tenderness welled up.
His mind finally coalesced around the realization of what an amazement his wife was turning out to be, possessed of a strong and completely natural eroticism he’d never suspected.
Unselfconscious to be naked before him in their chamber, seeming to have no reservations about pleasuring him in the middle of the afternoon in his own library, she was Rousseau’s child of nature, reacting not with artifice or determination to seduce, but from the depths of her unique and sensual being.
He’d expected a competent helpmate. An engaging friend. He hadn’t imagined possessing a siren.
He would never have wished for his brother’s death.
But he was finding himself unexpectedly grateful for the tragic circumstances that had gifted him this most surprising bride.
One who could amuse him, pleasure him—but as a friend, one who would never, as Thalia had, evoke the fierce emotions that had once torn his heart asunder.
Though she wasn’t proving entirely amenable, he thought, recalling her strong objection to his urging her to accompany him to London.
Despite her immediate apology, having her compare him to her detested mother still rankled.
But, he reassured himself, her sharp response simply represented how much she dreaded being on display to Society.
He’d have to give her more encouragement—surely she valued his opinion more than her mother’s.
If she continued to be intransigent, in the end, he could go to London without her, especially if Hart were in town to host him. He would miss her—especially given the delightful surprise of their physical compatibility—but friends didn’t need to live in one other’s pockets.
But that was a matter for another day. For now, he would enjoy their partnership at Thornthwaite.
She must have dozed, Juliana thought muzzily as she drifted to consciousness sometime later to find herself, skirts still ruched up to her waist, perched on Rafe’s lap.
Marveling at the intensity of the release they’d just shared, she reached up to brush back the damp hair shadowing his forehead.
Just as she’d dreamed of doing so many times, years ago when she was a starstruck girl.
It felt just as wonderful as she’d imagined. A wave of emotion overwhelmed her, bringing tears to her eyes and closing her throat.
Oh, this would never do. Struggling to suppress it, she sat up straight and kissed Rafe on the forehead. Think only of the pleasure you can give and take, she reminded herself sternly.
When Rafe opened his eyes, looking as content as she still felt, she said, ‘You truly will permit me to do…that? I haven’t displeased you with my…forwardness?’ she added, voicing a sudden doubt.
‘On the contrary! You have pleased me very much—as you are surely aware.’ He shook his head wonderingly. ‘My shy, quiet, retiring little Mouse. I would never have imagined.’
‘I was never truly shy,’ she replied, relieved. ‘And only quiet and retiring so as to draw as little notice as possible to behaviour that was likely to get me reprimanded.’
He chuckled. ‘You’ll get no reproof from me for this behaviour.’
She smiled, glad that he was still accepting and approving. If he truly liked her sensual overtures, she would allow her imagination full rein. Back in the dim past, she’d dreamed of being able to touch him without restriction, without restraint.
Now, with his permission, she could indulge herself.
She intended to take full advantage.
Acting upon the sensual inspiration of the moment would help her restrain any further undesirable outbreaks of emotion.
Along with concentration on work, of which there was much to be done.
‘Much as I delight in my current position, there is dinner and housework to supervise,’ she said, regretfully disentangling herself from him and rearranging her crumpled skirts. Catching sight of herself in the pier-glass mirror over the sideboard, she chuckled.
‘I’d better go repair myself first. With my hair coming down and my skirts all creased, Baxter will think I fell backwards through a hedgerow.’
Her experienced maid would probably know exactly what her charge had been up to—and would approve.
Her former nursemaid was delighted that the odd child she’d mentored and protected from a disapproving family had found a husband who seemed to appreciate her.
She’d already begun dropping none-too-subtle hints as she helped tidy her mistress after her wedding night that she hoped Juliana’s marital activities would soon produce a new child for Thorne Hall’s nursery.
Another wave of warmth went through her, one Juliana allowed herself to fully indulge. She might have to guard her mind and heart against Rafe. But a child she’d be free to love with all the passionate abandon she desired.
What a miracle it would be, she thought as she bid her husband good day and meandered up to her chamber.
A part of Rafe she could openly cherish forever.
She’d be able to transfer all the pent-up emotion she’d bottled up years ago when she learned he’d fallen in love with Thalia and lavish it on Rafe’s child. Her child. Their child.
A child to love would change their whole relationship, eliminating the hovering risk of an emotional lapse and giving her an acceptable outlet for her emotional passion while it cemented her place in Rafe’s life and her position at Thornthwaite as mother to the heir.
Having a child to safeguard would give her an even better reason to remain in the country, far from the foul air and congestion of the City. Allowing her to avoid London and the disapproval of a Society led by matrons like her mother.
She hugged herself, wondering if even now, Rafe’s seed might be growing within her. It couldn’t happen soon enough.