Chapter 22
Three days passed before Jessica was able to write to Jason. Many tasks occupied her as she learned how to run a house as large as Wyndham. The boredom she had experienced was gone, but Damien was still a missing piece in her life. They lived in the same house, but more like acquaintances than husband and wife. She had not yet figured out how to rectify that.
He had gone out early that morning with several of the servants to track the poachers who had been killing deer on their property and leaving most of the carcasses to rot. He would not return until late that evening, so she had a bit of time to herself. She was at a small desk in the morning room, a cozy room situated at the southeastern corner of the house, and had just begun her letter when Hobbs knocked discreetly.
“Begging Your Grace’s pardon,” he said. “The men have captured the poacher.”
She was puzzled that the majordomo would relay this information to her. “That is good news, Hobbs,” she said. “Has His Grace been told?”
“His Grace is still out searching the grounds.” Hobbs discreetly cleared his throat. “Begging Your Grace’s pardon, but I believe you would prefer to deal with this yourself.”
Intrigued by his suggestion, Jessica put down her pen and followed him outside. A group of Damien’s retainers stood about a small, bedraggled fellow. As Jessica approached, they parted to allow her through. A pair of dead rabbits lay at the poacher’s feet.
“What is the problem, Hobbs?” Jessica demanded. “You caught the fellow red-handed.”
At her words, the poacher raised his eyes and stared sullenly at Jessica. She was taken aback to see a smudged, pixie face glaring at her.
“Why, it’s a girl!” Jessica exclaimed.
“Isn’t she the smart one,” the poacher said sarcastically.
The footman, who had been holding the girl by the arm, gave her a shake. “Watch yer mouth, wench. This here’s the Duchess o’ Wyndham.”
“Well, la-di-dah,” the girl sneered.
Before the footman could throttle the young girl for her insolence, Jessica held up her hand to stop him. “What is your name?” she asked her. “Where’s your family?”
The girl just hunched her shoulders and stared at the ground. Jessica glanced around at the hostile faces of the men and had an inspiration. Putting her arm about the thin little shoulders, she said gently, “Come sit over here with me. We’ll talk, just the two of us.”
The girl resisted at first, but then she allowed Jessica to lead her to the step before the door. They sat down together as if they were equals.
“Are you hungry?” Jessica asked. Without waiting for the girl’s reply, she said, “Hobbs, get something to eat for this child.”
A few minutes later, Hobbs brought a plate of food, and Jessica watched the girl devour it. When she had finished, Jessica managed to drag out of her that her name was Mae, and she and her grandmother lived alone. Mae was the provider for both of them.
“Mae, how would you like to come work for me?” Jessica asked.
The girl looked at her suspiciously.
“You can work in the kitchen,” Jessica added. “We will pay you fair wages, and enough food for you and your grandmother.”
“Will I have to live here?” Mae asked.
Jessica surmised she did not wish to leave the old woman. “No, you can sleep at your grandmother’s, but you must be back here every morning to do your chores.” Jessica watched Mae think over her offer. Finally, the girl nodded. “Good. Hobbs, get Mae cleaned up and show her to the kitchen. She is going to work for us.”
Jessica watched with amusement as Hobbs distastefully told the girl to follow him. She had to hurry to keep up, and Jessica heard Mae complain, “‘Ey, you ol’ coot, wait up!” With a smile, Jessica returned to the house. Her letter to Jason was forgotten.
Damien did not arrive home until much later that night. Exhausted and hungry, he entered through the servants’ entrance into the kitchen, for he had planned on raiding the larder and then falling into bed. Instead, he found Jessica sitting at the large, worn, kitchen table. Spread out before her was a small feast of a crusty loaf of bread, a hunk of cheese, cold ham, a large dish of strawberries and a bottle of wine.
She released a small gasp at his entrance and rose from the table. “Welcome home, Your Grace. Would you care for a bite to eat?” She indicated the food on the table.
His gaze traveled from his wife to the food and then back again. She looked delectable. Her color was high, most likely from being caught in the middle of her surreptitious banquet, and her luscious lips were stained with strawberry juice. Silky, dark tendrils of hair curled at her cheeks. He could not decide which enticed him more—the food or his wife.
“A feast!” he exclaimed as he slid into a chair at the table.
Jessica smiled as she sat beside him and poured him some wine. “Did you catch the poachers, Your Grace?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. But I understand from Hobbs that you were quite successful.” Damien placed his hand over hers and said, “You did well today, Jessica. I’m proud of you.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips.
She blushed at his praise. “Thank you,” she murmured, “but I only did what I felt was right.”
Her humble response awed him. He never would have thought of putting the girl they caught to work in the kitchen as Jessica had. The woman he had wed out of necessity was intelligent and brave and kind-hearted. She was beautiful and passionate. She made his heart sing.
He loved her.
Damien blinked. How could that be? He glanced at her, at her guileless eyes and soft lips. She entranced him.
“Jessica, I…,” he began. His words trailed away, and his gaze dropped to the food before him. He shook his head. No, he could not say the words aloud. She was the daughter of his family’s enemy.
He sensed Jessica waiting for him to finish, but he stared instead at his glass of wine and said nothing. Uncomfortable under her scrutiny, he felt heat rise across his cheekbones.
“Damien?” she prompted.
“Have a strawberry,” he said as he hastily placed the bowl of fruit before her.
A tiny line of confusion appeared between her brows, but she did not press. Instead, she took one of the red fruits and bit into it. Juice dribbled down her chin as she began discussing her plans for a new garden. She giggled, grabbed a napkin and wiped the drip. Damien wanted to push the napkin away and lick up the juice, taste the strawberry on her lips. But he refrained. The discovery of his feelings for her were too new. He had to decide what to do with them. For now, he would merely enjoy her company, the rest of the meal, and pleasant conversation as they discussed the events of the day.
Jessica cherished each moment, for companionable times with her husband were very rare. When they retired that night, Damien escorted her to the door to her room and left her with a chaste kiss upon her cheek. Jessica felt that a permanent, warm glow would forever claim that spot. She thought he might attempt to seduce her into lying with him, but he was a perfect gentleman. Reluctantly, she entered her room alone.
She climbed into bed expecting to fall asleep immediately, but sleep would not come. She replayed their meal together in her head. Damien had seemed different somehow, more relaxed, more attentive. Perhaps she had begun to break through his reserve. She wondered what he had been about to say that would cause the flush across his cheeks. She might never know. But at least they had shared a pleasant meal.
As she stared up into the darkness, she remembered the unfinished letter to Jason which she had left in the morning room. She decided that since she could not sleep, she would finish it and send it with the morning post.
When she reached the desk in the morning room, she discovered with dismay that the letter was missing. She searched around the desk, in the drawer, on the floor, but it was not there. She thought perhaps one of the maids had taken it to her room, so she quickly returned there and began to search frantically. The last thing she needed was for Damien to find the letter and once more be reminded of her family.
As she searched, the door to the sitting room swung wide. Damien stood in the opening. He had never used that door. Something in his manner made her heart pound. He wore a long, dark green dressing gown belted at the waist. She had an uncomfortable feeling that he wore nothing beneath. He held up a piece of paper. Jessica recognized it as her letter to Jason.
“Is this what you were looking for?” he asked quietly.
Relief washed over her at his mild tone. “Oh, you have my letter.” She started toward him to retrieve it.
“Aren’t you being rather careless about where you leave letters to your lover?” he asked.
Jessica halted. “What do you mean?”
“Your lover,” Damien repeated. He enunciated each syllable clearly. He glanced down at the paper in his hand and read:
Dearest Jason,
I miss you so very much. I wish you could be here with me, now, but I know that is not possible. Perhaps, soon, I will be able to come to you, and we can spend time together, laughing and riding together the way we did before my marriage…
He looked up at her. His lips twisted, and his face was stony. “How touching.” Those two words dripped sarcasm.
Jessica was devastated at the sordid meaning he read into her innocent words to her brother. His manner was quite evident. He was furious. She backed away.
Shaking her head, she said, “You don’t understand.”
“I think I understand too well.” He stalked toward her. “You have betrayed me, Jessica. You deny me the right to your bed as your husband, yet you pine to be with your lover.”
“No, I—” She stepped away.
He prowled closer. “Do not deny it. You have written it with your own hand.” He shook the letter at her.
Jessica had backed up to the bed. Damien was so close he only had to reach out to keep her where she was. The look on his face was terrible—a mixture of barely controlled rage and horrible hurt.
“Damien, don’t do this,” she said quietly.
“Do what? I’m not doing anything, while your lover…” He released a humorless laugh. “What does your lover do to you, Jessica? Does he shower your mouth with hot kisses? Does he caress your body to the point of forgetfulness? Does he excite you to ecstasy?” His voice became deceptively seductive.
Jessica shook her head. “No. None of those things.” Then she realized by her denial she had admitted she had a lover. Her chin went up. “I have no lover.”
“No?” Damien’s mild tone contradicted the wrath in his eyes. “This letter says otherwise.” He held it up, then let it flutter to the floor. “I would like to meet this paragon of manly virtue. How did he steal your heart, Jessica? Did he woo you with florid phrases of poetry? Did he pick innocent daisies for you? Or perhaps he placed chaste kisses on your fingertips.”
Jessica sucked in a breath, hurt and frustration creating a heated tangle in her chest. This man—her husband—would always think the worst of her. He viewed her through the glass of her family and what they had done to him. He did not see her as herself, a separate person. And that made her very angry.
“You, my lord, are a half-wit,” she snapped. “The letter is to my younger brother, Jason.”
Damien blinked, stunned into confusion. Her words acted like icy water on the heat of his anger. He had been so sure of her infidelity. Was she telling the truth?
Her soft smiles and guileless eyes, her enticing curves and seductive walk tormented him. The restrictions she had placed on their marriage drove him mad. He had agreed to them only to get her to the altar. And—God help him—he loved her.
The pain and betrayal he’d felt upon finding the letter had twisted inside him, blinding him to anything else. He thought by marrying her he would find some peace from the hurt of his brother’s death that had haunted him all these years, but he had been wrong. All he saw was the deceitful betrayal by her family—Margaret’s seduction, his brother’s murder.
He searched her face for the truth. Her color was high. Her eyes were stormy. Her lips compressed in anger. That mouth, the bottom lip fuller, riper, begged to be kissed.
She stirred him as no other woman ever had. For a moment, he forgot the argument. She was his, dammit. All he wanted was to kiss her, touch her, possess her. He took a step closer, intending to do just that. And was stopped by a delicate but firm hand against his chest.
Jessica saw the change in his eyes from rage to desire. She watched as they changed color from cool green, cold and hard as two emeralds, to a darker shade like that of the sea. She wanted nothing more than to have him make love to her, but he would have to acknowledge the truth, acknowledge her, and believe her before she allowed him to touch her and break the bargain.
“Jason is my brother,” she said quietly. “You agreed that I could write to him.”
Damien blinked again and stared at her a moment. His gaze slid away, and he drew a breath. She watched as he seemed to rearrange his thoughts. When he looked back at her, his gaze was cool and remote.
“Of course,” he said. “My mistake. I apologize.” He took a step back.
Jessica realized that if he left, she might never have another chance to get him to love her. She might lose him forever. The time for truth had come. She had no other weapons to use in the battle for his love. It was a bet she did not want to lose. But she had to take the gamble. Time had run out. She curled her fingers into the lapel of his dressing gown and prevented him from leaving. He glanced down at her hand, then scowled at her.
“I am not Margaret,” she said. “I do not manipulate people. I am not my father, who did the only honorable thing he thought he could do when he found his wife with another man. It destroyed him, turned him to drink, and eventually killed him when his curricle overturned.” She shook her head. “I am sorry for your brother’s death. But I had nothing to do with any of it.”
He stared at her, his expression not revealing any of the thoughts behind those cool green eyes. He eased her fingers from his lapel, turned and walked to the door. Jessica’s heart compressed into a hard lump in her chest.
She had lost.
He stopped before the closed door. And did not move. Jessica’s breath stilled.
Seconds passed. He abruptly swung around to face her. “Is that why you made that absurd bargain with me? Because you believed I thought you had something to do with my brother’s death?”
“Didn’t you?” she asked quietly.
A crease appeared between his brows. A muscle jumped in his jaw. His head dipped.
“I believe I have made a mistake,” he said, his tone low and quiet. He clasped his hands behind his back. “I owe you an apology. Another one. I would beg your forgiveness.”
When he glanced up at her, his mouth curved in a crooked smile. He reminded her of a little boy whose hand had been caught in the jar of sweets.
Jessica’s breath left her in a rush.
“I have been a fool,” he said. “I had forgotten about your brother. When I saw the letter, I was furious. All I could think about was you with another man. That you had wed me because of some demented plan of your stepmother’s and forced me to accept that bloody bargain. I was so jealous I couldn’t see what you had told me only days before.”
Jessica opened her mouth to speak, but he rushed on before she could say a word.
“I will keep to the bargain as long as you wish.” He straightened as if standing before a judge. “I hope you can forgive me for being such a cad.”
His humble apology overwhelmed her. It wiped the words from her brain. Her love for this honorable man swelled inside her.
At her silence, he gave a short nod, turned, and placed his hand on the doorknob.
She could not let him leave. She took a step forward.
“Damien.”
He did not turn.
“Damien, make love to me.”
He swung to face her. “I beg your pardon?” he asked, gaping at her.
Jessica smiled at his disbelief. “Make love to me,” she repeated. “Please.”
“But the bargain…”
She gave a little shrug. “I was the one who forced you to accept it. I can be the one to break it.”
He took a step toward her. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She tipped her head, feigning curiosity. “Don’t you want to make love to me?”
He took another step forward. His mouth twitched up at one corner. “Of course, I do.”
“Well, then.” She pulled at the top ribbon of her dressing gown.
He stepped close, then pulled back as if she might break. “What about the babe?”
Jessica grinned. “I don’t think he or she will mind.”
A sly smile curved his lips. He pulled at the next ribbon on her dressing gown. “Well, then.” He untied the rest of the ribbons on her dressing gown, then reverently pushed it from her shoulders. “We will do this slowly,” he murmured. “You will tell me if you wish to stop.”
Jessica swallowed. “Yes.” She had no desire to go slowly or to stop, but she would not tell him that. She would let him care for her.
With a gentle shove, he pushed her back onto the bed. Leaning over her, he took both her wrists in one hand and pinned them above her head. She closed her eyes, finally able to break the bonds of his gaze. She felt his weight on the bed as he knelt over her.
Jessica sucked in a breath. Anticipation made her giddy.
She felt his lips on hers, demanding and possessive. His tongue slid across her lips, tasting, probing. With a sigh, she allowed him entrance.
His free hand slipped under her nightrail and explored until it found the mound of her breast. With his thumb, he teased the tip, causing it to harden and swell. Jessica shuddered in pleasure.
His touch, which she had denied herself for too long, was devastating. She had given him leave to claim his marital rights. He could have taken her quickly and been done. Instead, he seduced. He knew what aroused her, what made her mindless, and he used his knowledge ruthlessly. His hand moved over her body and awakened sensations that she thought she would never feel again.
His lips moved from her mouth to her neck to her throat to her shoulder, and left a trail of tiny butterfly kisses, making her breath catch in her throat. Somehow, her nightgown had come unfastened, exposing a breast. His mouth found the spot where his hand had been. A wonderful tingling ran through her body. A sound, somewhere between a moan and a sigh, escaped her lips.
She was helpless in his hands, as if he had cast some sort of spell over her. She could not break away. She did not want to. His mouth moved back up to her neck. He nibbled at the lobe of her ear. Her head fell to the side to allow him full access to the spot.
He sighed, as if a great weight had been lifted from him. “I love you, Jessica,” he whispered.
She sucked in a breath, shocked and at the same time joyous at the words.
He braced himself above her. “Do you wish me to stop?” he murmured.
She opened her eyes and cupped his face in her hands. “No. Never.”
She slid her hand to the back of his neck and pulled him down. Recklessly, her mouth met his, inviting him to taste. Her fingers curled in his hair, and her other hand slipped down his back as she felt the play of muscles under his skin.
His hands moved over her freely now, touching all over. She was exposed to his warm gaze and hot touch. He tasted first one breast, then the other. A heated glow spread through her body.
He stood and pulled her up with him. Taking the high neckline of her modest nightgown in both hands, he ripped it to its hem. It fell to the floor about her ankles.
“These are for virgins and old maids,” he growled. “You are a woman, and I will not see you in them again.”
A blush warmed her cheeks at being naked before him. She felt self-conscious with the slight roundness of her belly from her pregnancy. Half turning away from his gaze, she covered herself shyly.
“Don’t turn away, Jessica. I want to look at you,” he urged gently.
Very aware of his eyes on her, she slowly turned back to face him. He did not take his eyes from her face as he dropped his own robe to the floor, baring himself to her gaze. He wore nothing beneath it.
She could not tear her eyes away from his body, the broad expanse of his chest, the muscular sleekness of his hips and thighs, his proud manhood. He took her by the shoulders and drew her close. His body was warm, firm. All hard planes to her soft curves. He placed a warm, demanding kiss on her lips.
Jessica felt the coiled desire in him. The heat from his body matched her own. His hard thighs pressed against hers. His manhood throbbed along her hip.
“You are a witch, Jessica,” he whispered against her mouth. “I want you so badly, I ache.”
“Make me your wife,” she whispered back, as her arms tightened around him. “Make love to me.”
In one smooth movement, he scooped her up and placed her gently on the bed. He ran his hand the length of her body, from her shoulder, over her breast, to her slightly mounded belly, to the wellspring of her womanhood. His fingers caressed there.
Jessica shuddered and moaned. As he stretched out beside her, she ran her hands over his body. His breath rasped in his throat as he played in that tender spot between her thighs. She arched toward him as she writhed in her passion. Her body clenched and spasmed in delicious waves. When they receded, she saw him grinning at her with male pride.
“Your turn, Your Grace,” she said as she reached for him. She wanted to pleasure him like he had pleasured her.
He groaned at her touch. “I need you now, Witch,” he growled.
He pulled her on top of him and positioned her gently as he entered her. Her eyes opened in surprise and delight at the wonderful sensations he created. He began to move, and she caught his rhythm. They moved as one until a wild burst went surging through them both. She felt as if her world were coming to a spectacular end, that her life’s energy was reaching an apex and then being sucked out of her. With a tiny sigh, she collapsed on top of him. Her world came slowly back into focus.
They lay quietly together, gathering their strength after the storm. She rested her head on his shoulder. He kept his arm about her and held her close.
Shyly, she circled a spot in the middle of his chest. “I love you,” she whispered.
He became absolutely still, then with disbelief he asked, “What did you say?”
Jessica smiled up at him. “I said, I love you.”
Damien gathered her close and buried his face in her hair. “God’s blood,” he whispered. “I never thought I would hear you say that. I’ve treated you so badly. I think I have loved you from the first time I saw you at Madame’s, but I was too stupid to realize it or too arrogant to admit it.” He paused, struggling with some deep emotion. “I worshiped my older brother. I wanted to be like him. He was charming, handsome, and everything he did seemed so effortless. He had a line-up of Papas with marriageable daughters asking about joining their family to ours. He could have been happily settled with several heirs by now. Instead, he became obsessed with Margaret, another man’s wife. I could have shot him myself, I was so angry with him. And then he was challenged to a duel by your father. I begged him not to go. He laughed and said no one could best him at shooting.” Damien shook his head. “I realized how shallow and foolish he was. When he died, I was furious at him, but even more furious with myself.”
Jessica leaned back in his arms. She touched his cheek with her fingertips and gazed lovingly into those striking green eyes.
“Damien, I’m so sorry,” she said in a husky voice as she hugged him.
“You have saved me, Jessica,” he murmured as he brushed a curl from her forehead. “I was so blind.”
Jessica took his hand and kissed his palm. Then she grinned impishly. “You were never blind. You were always ogling me.”
Damien raised a brow. “How could I not help but stare when you always wore those clinging, low-cut gowns to Madame’s? My imagination would run wild as I thought of all the things I could do if you were wearing nothing at all.”
Jessica smiled an invitation. “I’m not wearing anything at all now.”
He ran his hand down her back as if feeling for something. “Hmm. You’re right.” He grinned. “I guess my imagination doesn’t have to work so hard, now. Shall we see what my imagination can come up with?”
“Mm,” she purred. Her eyes traveled down his body. “It looks like your imagination has come up with something very useful.”
Damien chuckled as he lowered his mouth to hers. He was hers now. Completely. No one would ever take her away from him again.