Chapter Fifteen
It was not yet dawn when Claire awoke, missing Jasper’s solid warmth. She turned suddenly in the large bed, rolling to her side. Her nose collided with something hard. She let out a startled yelp, then burst into laughter as she stared at her equally shocked husband. He was gingerly rubbing his own nose, and she quickly realized that was what she had knocked into.
“Sorry.”
“My apologies.”
They spoke at the same time, then smiled awkwardly at the happenstance, soon growing silent. Unsure of what to say, the pair simply stared at each other for several long moments.
A flash of uncertainty burned through Claire. She dipped her chin, feeling a sudden shyness at this new intimacy. She had never before slept with a man, or awakened with one by her side. It was a novel and altogether unique experience.
“I thought you had left,” she said.
Jasper’s eyes grew thoughtful. “I am through with running away.”
His fingers reached out and cupped her jaw. His touch was sensual; his features tight with emotions. There was something in his eyes that made her feel glorious, as though she was the most extraordinary, amazing, wondrous creature on earth. Was that what he truly thought of her?
“I am very happy you stayed,” she whispered.
“I actually had little choice. You exhausted me until I could barely move.” His expression turned mischievous. “And, yet, as tired as I was, I found it nearly impossible to sleep. You, my dear little wife, snore like an old sea captain after a three-day drinking binge.”
Claire pushed her pillow aside, gripped the edge tightly, then swung it overhead and brought it down clumsily on Jasper’s head. He let out a bellow and reached for her weapon. They tousled for a moment for control of the feathered lump, but Jasper won easily.
Claire watched the pillow intently as it dangled from his left hand, waiting to spring out of the way the moment it came toward her, but Jasper tossed it out of the bed. She felt a momentary pang of disappointment.
“Aren’t you going to retaliate?” she asked.
His brows knitted together in a frown. “You are a woman. I would never physically attack a female, even in jest.”
“Oh.” Claire was unsure how to react. On one hand, she wanted him to be less reserved and more playful, yet she could hardly fault his reasoning. “It pleases me to know you will treat me with such care and respect.”
The muted light from the window illuminated Jasper’s handsome features. Feeling a delightful sense of possession, Claire eased away a strand of golden hair from his forehead.
He smiled at her. “Of course, I have no compunction when it comes to tickling a woman.”
Claire had no time to defend herself. Jasper lunged forward, his hands encircling her waist, his fingertips dancing along the edge of her skin. Within seconds, Claire was shrieking with laughter and scurrying to get away.
“Stop, oh, stop. I cannot breathe,” Claire gasped out between bouts of giggles.
“Do you surrender?”
Claire twisted and turned, sinking deeper into the softness of the bed. She giggled something incomprehensible and tried to retaliate, but Jasper had wisely moved his torso out of her reach.
“Yes . . . I . . . surrender.” Each word was puffed out in a short staccato rhythm as she fought for breath.
Fairly gloating in victory, Jasper collapsed beside her. He pressed a kiss on her neck. Claire threaded her fingers with his, to keep his hands occupied, then turned so that she faced him.
Jasper leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. “I love hearing you laugh.”
His eyes, sparkling with amusement, turned softer. Claire found her gaze drawn to the tempting line of his mouth. “And I love kissing you.”
To prove her point, Claire lifted her arms, placed her hands on either side of his head, and kissed him with passionate urgency. Jasper responded immediately.
The kiss deepened and Claire leaned into its heat. Jasper’s hands slid up to her shoulders, and he pulled her close until their naked flesh met, chest to chest. She drew in a quick breath as his fingers moved near her breast.
“Touch me,” Claire whispered, brushing her breath over his ear. “Run your hands all over me.”
She heard him say her name ever so softly as he eagerly obeyed her command; his hands roamed over her back, down to her hips, up her sides. His fingers felt hot as they skimmed her legs and thighs, and then slid down her stomach.
She loved it. Savoring each stroke, relishing each caress, Claire boldly opened her thighs, unafraid to show her sexual needs and desires.
The air was warm and sweet, and the bed was soft and slick. Jasper entered her body in one firm stroke, and Claire welcomed his strength with a cry of passion, a cry of love.
There was something masterful about the way their bodies merged together in a powerful wave of sensual desire. They moved in unison for an immeasurable amount of time, riding the storm of passion, conscious of each other’s needs, each giving and receiving pleasure without reservation as they strove to become one.
Nearly overcome with emotion, Claire felt tears gather in her eyes as her climax crested. It came over her like a great tidal wave—an intense mixture of physical pleasure and emotional depth. Her pleasure somehow triggered his and she clung tightly to Jasper when she felt his body begin to shudder, savoring his moment of release nearly as much as her own.
Afterward, they lay wrapped in each other’s arms. Claire’s head pressed against Jasper’s chest, and she listened to the slow, steady beat of his heart. Her heart, now.
With a contented smile, she closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.
“You will not partner any man in a dance unless he is first approved by me,” Jasper instructed. “If you have an interest in seeing any of the walks or exploring the gardens, you will tell me, and I shall accompany you. Though we are attending a private event, the promenades are often littered with lurking rakehells waiting for the opportunity to accost some unsuspecting female.”
“’Tis no wonder that most respectable ladies depart Vauxhall Gardens by two o’clock in the afternoon,” Claire muttered.
“As well they should,” Jasper replied.
Claire gritted her teeth at her husband’s pompous tone.
She had been looking forward to this evening for weeks, having heard and read much about the famous Vauxhall Gardens.
It was the perfect evening for an outdoor party, with pleasant temperatures and clear skies. Fireworks were planned, and Claire was hoping the tightrope walker, Mme. Saqui, who was paid an exorbitant fee of 100 guineas per week, would perform.
Yet Jasper’s overbearing manner was becoming a true annoyance. Earlier he had told her he would not have allowed this outing if it had not involved a private party hosted by one of the most influential matrons of the ton.
Claire lifted her chin to meet her husband’s gaze. He had not ceased issuing orders and commands since leaving the house. Though his concern was appreciated, Claire acknowledged that she was also feeling a small degree of annoyance. She did not like being considered a lackwit, and she did not enjoy being treated like a wayward child.
Given the bizarre events at the theater last night, she knew there was a need for extra caution and extra vigilance whenever she was out in public. After all, she was not a complete idiot.
She opened her mouth to express that very sentiment to her husband, but the words caught in her throat. They were traveling to the gardens by boat. Dusk was drawing on quickly, but the rays from the lantern hanging on the prow of the boat reflected off the water, illuminating his features.
The usual arrogance was obvious in the broad planes of Jasper’s face, but it was tempered with great concern. And shining from his eyes was unmistakable love.
Claire’s heart slammed against her chest, thumping painfully against her ribs. She wiped a nervous hand across her forehead, worried she would find it damp.
“Are you ill?” Jasper asked. “Should we return home?”
“I am fine.”
The feelings revealed in his face shook her to her toes. In her heart, she believed he would someday come to love her. And now, though he had not spoken the words aloud, doubts that had lingered over the nature of his true feelings had vanished.
As they neared the step leading from the water, Claire could hear the distant sound of music. The air was filled with the heady scent of flowers. It caused a momentary distraction, but Claire’s attention quickly returned to the man who carefully assisted her out of the boat.
She continued to hold Jasper’s hand tightly once she reached solid ground and did not relinquish her grip until the rest of their group strolled together through the entrance.
“We should do a bit of exploring before we make an appearance at the party,” Jasper’s father suggested.
“Oh, yes,” the countess quickly agreed. “I want to visit the arcades.”
Arm in arm they set off down one of the many paths that were lit by gas lamps strung through the trees. Lady Meredith and her husband fell in step behind them, and Jason joined his sister and brother-in-law.
Claire hesitated a moment before accepting her husband’s offered arm. They had fallen behind the others, and she used this brief moment of privacy to lift her chin and whisper softly in his ear, “I love you, too, Jasper.”
The party was in full swing when they finally arrived. They were met by their hostess, Lady Ansley, one of the ton’s social leaders. She swept forward to greet them, making a great fuss over Jason, who she called the wayward son, as she scolded him for missing the beginning of the Season’s society events.
“You must allow me to find you some suitable dancing partners,” Lady Ansley said.
“I thank you for the kind offer, my lady,” Jason replied with a steady smile. “I fear all the most discerning mothers will hide their daughters and race toward the exits the moment I show any interest.”
Lady Ansley’s lashes fluttered from behind her fan and she looked at him with a properly coy glance. “Not if I make the introductions.”
“Precisely.” Jason tugged the older woman’s hand from her side and lifted it to his lips. She giggled like a young miss as he bent his head and placed a courtly kiss on her gloved knuckles.
Jasper worked hard to conceal his snort of disgust. His brother had a real talent for being fussed over by women of all ages. It was a reaction that had the power to quickly get under Jasper’s skin, and tonight was no exception.
Yet Jasper was determined to keep his temper in check. He had reached an uneasy truce with his brother, as they were now united in the cause of keeping Claire safe. In his gut, Jasper knew the day of reckoning between them was bound to come soon, but it would not happen tonight.
Jasper felt the gentle pressure of his wife’s fingers on his sleeve and all thoughts of his brother fled.
“Your father has secured a table and wants us to join him in the supper alcove. He told me it was to the left of the Pavilion.”
“Come, I’ll lead the way.”
Jasper was pleased to note there were many more lanterns, and thus more light in this area. Because there was not enough seating for all the guests in the section of alcoves allocated for the party, small tables had been arranged along the edge of the dance floor, each laid with a starched white cloth and set formally with the finest china, crystal, and silver. A colored lantern glowed at the center of each table.
When they arrived, their table was already laden with a lavish assortment of delicacies. Serving platters nearly overflowed with oysters, pork cutlets, salmon, prawns, hare with morels, and roast sweetbreads. Several bottles of chilled champagne and a rich red wine to wash it all down also cluttered the small space.
“’Tis a far cry from the usual fare of salty ham, tough chicken, and stale biscuits that are offered here,” Jasper commented as he filled his plate. “Lady Ansley’s chef is a genius.”
Lady Meredith laughed. “Jasper is right. One does not come to Vauxhall to enjoy the food.”
“Ah, but tonight is the exception,” the earl interjected. He refilled everyone’s champagne goblet, emptying the bottle. “I am very pleased that Claire’s first visit to the gardens is turning into such a delightful experience.”
They all toasted and drank, then continued to feast, making noticeable headway in consuming the food. As they were finishing the meal, a handsome, older gentleman, dressed all in black, appeared at the entrance to the box.
“I would like to request the honor of a dance, Countess.”
Jasper’s mother smiled brightly, drained her champagne glass, and put out her hand. Seeing Claire glance with interest toward the dance floor, Jasper hastily wiped his mouth with his linen napkin, then led his wife out for the next dance.
I love you, too, Jasper. The words she had spoken to him moments before echoed in his mind as they paced through the steps. She had said them to him last night also, but earlier this evening she had added one very significant word. Too.
She knew. Jasper was unsure if he felt relief or annoyance that she understood his feelings better than he did. It really was rather disarming to admit that one’s wife was perceptive enough to so easily know something that intimate and personal.
“Why are you scowling?” Claire whispered as they came together. “Is something amiss?”
You are right. I do love you. Jasper’s heart pounded like cannon fire as the words swirled in his head. Yet he did not say them. This was hardly an appropriate time or place to declare his feelings for the first time.
Fortunately, the vigorous intricacies of the country dance made it difficult to converse. Jasper flashed a pleasant grin when he next came close to Claire, hoping to convince her all was well. She looked suspiciously into his eyes, but asked no further questions.
He was spared. For the moment.
A few minutes later, Lord Fairhurst stood at the edge of the dense crowd, unhappily gazing at the dance floor. Claire was currently being partnered by his father, would next dance with his brother, and then the marquess, so her safety was momentarily assured. Yet still he worried. Though this was supposed to be a private party, Vauxhall Gardens was a very public place, and it was all too easy for the uninvited to slip in with the guests.
A whirl of fashionable couples danced merrily by, and Jasper admitted that it was probably those individuals who had been invited that he needed to be most concerned about. With keen eyes, he scanned the crowd, suspecting he would find Squire Dorchester somewhere.
But, instead, his eyes discovered a very familiar female face. Before he could turn, his eyes met her gaze. Her lips compressed into a disapproving line, and Jasper waited, with a faint tinge of amusement, for her to turn her back and give him a direct cut.
She surprised him utterly by giving him a short, jerky nod of acknowledgment. Admiring the courage it took, he returned the gesture. Not a muscle moved on her plain face in reaction. Yet she continued to boldly return his gaze.
The music ended and the next set of couples began to take the floor. The few women clustered around Miss Anne Manning gradually disappeared, as they were claimed by male partners for the upcoming dance.
Anne stood alone. Following an impulse he did not take the time to understand, Lord Fairhurst approached her.
“The next dance is about to begin, Miss Manning. If you are not otherwise engaged, I would be honored if you would partner me.”
Anne blushed. There was an awkward silence that was finally broken when her mouth curved into a smile. In a soft voice barely above a whisper, she accepted his invitation. Jasper bowed and led her to the dance floor.
During the months that he had paid court to Rebecca, Jasper had taken little notice of her older sister. Though she often accompanied Rebecca as a chaperone, Anne’s presence barely registered in his mind.
Anne rarely spoke, never offered any opinions, and seemed to scurry away anytime he was near. More often than not, she was like a ghost in the shadows, hovering on the edges, a dim presence that was faintly seen and barely acknowledged.
Once they had inadvertently left Anne behind after strolling the gravel paths in Hyde Park and did not realize her absence until their carriage had driven away. Embarrassed, Jasper had told his driver to immediately turn around. Anne had expressed no anger at the mishap, though she had appeared shaken and distressed. It was Rebecca who had displayed the emotions, scolding her sister for causing such an inconvenience.
Jasper wondered if this skittish behavior was an ingrained part of her nature, yet as the waltz began, Anne went readily into his arms. Perhaps he had misjudged her shyness. Or maybe she had finally managed to overcome it.
He caught her eyes as they whirled out of a turn, and she hastily lowered her gaze. They continued to dance for a few moments without speaking. He tried to remember if he had ever seen her with a beau, but could not recall any men showing her more than polite interest.
Jasper dipped his head closer to hers. “Are you enjoying yourself this evening?”
“Yes, very much,” she responded, slightly breathless. “And you?”
“I find that the evening has much improved since you agreed to this waltz,” Jasper responded, realizing it was true.
He had always liked to dance, and Anne was a surprisingly good partner. Jasper wound them around the slower moving couples, and she followed his lead gamely, never missing a step or losing her balance. As one couple drew precariously close, Jasper made a wide, sweeping turn to avoid a collision. That move earned him a sparkling little smile from Anne.
Her sudden animation caught his attention, and Jasper set himself to be his most charming. Anne responded immediately, laughing at his witticisms and even venturing to make a comment or two of her own.
The music drew to a close and they stopped dancing, though Jasper kept his arm loosely around Anne’s shoulder to prevent her from being jostled by the crowd. He escorted her off the floor and returned her to her original spot, where a bevy of ladies were once again congregated.
Very aware of his audience, who were feigning disinterest behind their fans, yet listening to every word, Jasper executed a courtly bow. “Thank you for the dance, Miss Manning. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.”
“And you also, my lord.”
She turned away, hesitated, and then looked back over her shoulder at him. Jasper noticed a happy glow in her eyes. The sight of her joy improved his mood. He suspected she received little happiness in her life and was pleased to play a small part in making this a pleasant evening for her.
Rebecca Manning waited impatiently until the third set of dancing began before slipping away from the party. Her father had given strict instructions to both his daughters, demanding that they stay clear of the secluded paths, but Rebecca had no intention of obeying that order.
Her emotions churned in a flutter of fear and excitement as she hurried away, knowing her father would be furious if she were discovered. Yet her father’s pleasure was of little concern to her these days. Another man controlled her behavior, dominated her waking thoughts and actions, oftentimes so completely that Rebecca hardly recognized herself.
A part of her knew that Richard was pure wickedness, yet she ignored any internal signals to be cautious. The squire made her body burn to be near his, and she took foolish, unwise risks to please him, for he was the prize she yearned to have no matter how great the cost.
It took several moments for Rebecca’s eyes to adjust to the deeper darkness of the Lover’s Walk. Behind her, the distant lights of the party faded, along with the lively minuet the orchestra was playing. Following the instructions she had been given earlier, she gingerly walked along the path until she arrived at a recessed alcove with a small bench.
It was deserted. Rebecca let out a sigh of disappointment. She had expected her lover to be waiting for her.
She paced impatiently in the confined space, the smell of trailing tendrils of fragrant honeysuckle making her feel slightly ill. Her thoughts were scattered and distracted. She never heard the sound of footsteps approaching and had to stifle a scream when a masculine arm grasped her from behind and closed tightly around her waist.
“Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” The squire pressed himself tightly against the full length of her back. Rebecca’s breath caught. She felt her nipples peak and her body soften and quiver with expectation. Her almost immediate desire for him was always difficult to disguise.
She tried to turn and face him, hoping for a proper kiss, but the squire held her imprisoned. He drew a reckless hand through her upswept hair, and she heard several pins drop to the ground.
“We must be careful,” she said breathlessly. “Anyone could come by and see us.”
“I thought you liked that, Rebecca. Having someone watch.”
She closed her eyes in shame, recalling a tryst they had shared earlier in the week when his servant, a lusty young stable lad, had watched from the shadows as Richard stripped her naked and mounted her like a stallion takes a mare.
The inhibitions of a lifetime had crumbled easily in the face of her newly awakened desire, for when she was with Richard, her needs, her desires, her cravings, ruled her every action.
“’Twas only that one time,” she whispered feebly. “I did it because you asked. I did it to please you.”
“So you claim. But we both know the truth of the matter, do we not? You enjoyed it even more than I.”
He bent his head and nipped the inside of her neck with his lips and teeth. Rebecca trembled with passion, but she tried again to hide it, willing herself to remain perfectly still. If Richard knew how much she desired him, he would cease his caresses immediately, just to punish her.
His hand reached down and bunched her skirts, wrinkling the fine silk of her gown. Rebecca did not care. Deliberately teasing her, his sly touch glided between her legs. His hand cupped possessively over her mound, and Rebecca whimpered with excitement.
He pulled back. She groaned, panting in frustration. Richard laughed. It was a harsh, ugly sound.
“You are hot for me tonight,” he taunted. “But you shall not get what you need until you do as I say.”
Rebecca’s chin jutted mulishly. “Why must I wait? You should be doing your utmost to please me, in hopes that I will grant you a boon and do as you ask.”
The squire snorted. “Do not try my patience by saying provoking things. I am in no mood for it.”
Rebecca turned her head toward him and sulked. But she was too unsure of Richard to push her point further. “What do you want?”
His eyes lit with triumph. Rebecca lifted her face closer to his. Richard lowered his head and kissed her on the mouth. It was a brief meeting of the lips, so fleeting that, for an instant, she thought she might have imagined it.
Flustered, Rebecca pushed her shoulder boldly forward, trying to turn her body toward his as she searched for more. The squire jerked his head away.
“I want you to lure Lady Fairhurst down this secluded path, and then abandon her here.”
Rebecca ceased her movements as a protest rose to her lips. “How am I going to accomplish such a ridiculous task? Given our rather awkward past history, Lady Fairhurst and I avoid each other by unspoken agreement. In fact, we have never even been formally introduced.”
“There are over a hundred guests in attendance tonight. If you are so concerned about the proprieties, find someone to make a proper introduction.”
Rebecca felt her blood begin to simmer. “Why? Why is it necessary for Lady Fairhurst to come here?”
Richard’s hand began tangling the wisps of hair at the back of her neck. It hurt as he pulled at the strands, bruising the tender flesh on her neck. But she said nothing, fearing he would remove his hands entirely.
“Think, you little idiot! Has it not been your goal to humiliate Fairhurst? What better way to exact revenge than by compromising his bride? Will it not be scandalous for her to be discovered alone on a secluded path in the arms of a gentleman who is not her husband?”
Rebecca’s temper flared as a sharp ache rose inside her. “You are planning on seducing her!” She let out a screech of anger and lunged at the squire, but Richard had not relinquished his hold, making it difficult for her to strike back. “I will not allow it!”
“Your extremes of emotions are so damn tedious,” Richard retorted, his ever tightening grip now bordering on painful. “Remove that bloodthirsty look of jealousy from your eyes at once.”
Rebecca trembled. More than anything she wanted to lash out, to make him feel the same anger and hurt that coursed through her veins, yet she worked hard to rein in her temper, fearing the consequences.
Even in her anger, she felt the hot, glowing embers of attraction for this man smolder. Richard was an enigma to her, but she was caught too tightly in his web to shake her fascination for him.
“You will do exactly as I tell you and all will go according to my plan,” the squire continued. With surprising gentleness, he brushed back a stray lock of her hair, the light caress of his fingertips as intimate as the kisses she craved. “Arguing will only try my patience and waste time. Do you understand?”
Though she longed to disagree, Rebecca wisely jerked her head in agreement.
“Good.” He reached out and traced her cheek with his fingers, the tender gesture at odds with the malice gleaming from his eyes. “I am pleased to discover that after these many weeks together you are finally learning that I always get what I want.”