She could hardly look at him the next morning. Every time she caught his eye, she flushed, thinking of his mouth on her breast and his hands...

Finally, when she and Richard were in the coach and he on the box, she allowed her thoughts to roam. What had he done to her? How did he know how to do that? Probably better if she didn’t try to find the answer to that question. Probably better if she didn’t allow herself to keep thinking the next: when would he do it again?

He was a wicked man. She wasn’t so innocent as not to understand his last comment. Surely the Church frowned on that sort of behavior. Just as surely, if it felt even half as good as his tongue on her nipple felt, she could hardly wait. She could think of little else, eager for the day to pass so they could stop at another inn and she could go to his room and—

“Mama, you are not listening at all.”

“What was that, darling?” Olivia blinked at her son, who sat across from her, his face all but pressed to the glass as he studied the passing landscape.

“I said, there’s a hare. You missed it!”

“Are you certain it was a hare? They don’t usually come out this time of day.”

“I miss Clover,” he said, apropos of nothing. “Do you think she misses us?”

“I think she has lots of children to fawn over her and feed her apples and carrots. She’s probably grown as fat as a house.”

He giggled and jumped onto her lap. “Mama, it’s only been one day.”

“Oh, well, then tomorrow she’ll be as fat as a house.”

He rested his cheek against her shoulder. “What are my grandmother and grandfather like? Are they kind or strict?”

She smiled at his use of that word. She’d tried to teach him his letters and numbers and when he wouldn’t listen, she’d told him she would have to act strictly, like her governesses had done. He loved hearing stories about her governesses and tutors. In his mind, nothing was worse than strictness. How she wished he would believe that forever.

“Your grandparents are...” How to describe them? “They are kind and loving.” They had always been that way when she’d been a child. She’d been their only child and they hadn’t spoiled her, but they’d doted on and pampered her.

“Then why did you go away?”

“Because...” How to explain to a child her parents’ insistence she marry the Duke of Withernsea?

She’d always understood she would marry a man of their choosing, and she hadn’t argued when they’d told her their choice. That was until she’d spent a little time with the duke. He’d scared her. At first it was the way he looked at her, as though she were a horse or a piece of art he was inspecting, not a person, not the woman who would become his wife. And then he’d begun to say things that disgusted her. She tried to avoid being alone with him, but she couldn’t refuse when he asked her to dance at balls. He always chose sets where they would have time to converse, and then he’d make lewd comments and promises about what he would do to her when she was his.

At first, she’d told her parents she didn’t feel comfortable with the duke and needed more time before the wedding. But as the months passed and the duke became more impatient, she was forced to admit she didn’t want to marry him. When her parents insisted, citing the betrothal contract, she confided in her mother some of what the duke had said. The viscountess had looked shocked.

Olivia had thought that the end of it. But then her father had come to her and told her that when she was a wife, these things would not be so shocking. The viscountess had looked pale as her husband spoke, but she hadn’t said anything. Later Olivia learned her father had spoken to the duke. Withernsea had been angry about it, and he’d taken that anger out on Olivia when he’d managed to corner her alone at a ball.

Now, she looked at her sweet son. “I ran away because there was a bad man, and I was scared of him.”

“Is the bad man still there?”

She nodded. “Yes, but I’m not scared of him any longer.”

“Jasper says he won’t let anything happen to us.”

She hugged Richard tighter. “He won’t. He’s a man of his word. You can trust him.

“Mama?”

“Yes?”

Richard hesitated. “Is my father in London?”

She knew she would have to tell him at some point, but how was she to tell him his father was the man she’d been fleeing? That was something she’d rather not reveal until he was much older. “No,” she said. And it was true. Withernsea had never been a father to Richard. And she would be certain he never met his son. She didn’t think he had any legal rights to the child, but she didn’t want to take a chance.

“Mama, can Jasper be my father?”

She swallowed. She’d been ready for the question and even thought about what she would say. It would be something about how Jasper was only a friend, and any man who would be Richard’s father would have to marry her.

But after last night, she couldn’t pretend to herself that she didn’t have feelings for Jasper. That she wanted more than friendship from him.

“I don’t know,” she finally answered, because it seemed the most truthful. “He would have to marry me.”

Richard sat forward and looked at her. “Why don’t you just ask him to marry you then?”

“It’s not that easy,” she said with a laugh. “And gentlemen are supposed to ask, not ladies.”

“Oh.” He slumped, and she rubbed his back.

“I know you want a father, darling, but let me introduce you to your grandparents first. You will be very busy getting to know them.”

“Yes, Mama.”

Richard had had so few people in his life that she could understand his desperation for more. She had begun to think that perhaps she and Jasper had a future, but nothing was certain and she didn’t want to give Richard false hope.

She took her time when they stopped for lunch, arguing with Jasper that Richard needed more time to stretch his legs. Jasper, black mask in place, didn’t seem convinced. He tapped his foot impatiently and paced before the carriage. Olivia didn’t fear his anger any more. He might not like having to slow his progress, but she didn’t think he’d take it out on her.

“At this rate, we won’t reach London until afternoon tomorrow,” he said, arms crossed over his chest.

“That sounds perfect.” She smiled and waved at Richard who was romping in a field with a puppy who lived at the posting house.

“We could have made it tonight.”

She gave him a sidelong look. “Perhaps I’d rather spend one more night at an inn.”

“Are you nervous about seeing your parents again?”

“Yes, but that’s not it.”

“Then why?”

She started for the field to begin the process of cajoling Richard back into the coach. He really did need time to run and play. But she glanced over her shoulder as she walked. “I like the company in the inns.”

A slow smile spread over his face.

***

JASPER WAS KNOWN AT the inn they stopped at for the final night. She should have expected he would be as they were close to London now, and his mask was rather conspicuous. It meant she ate with Richard in her room while Jasper ate in the public rooms with his acquaintances. He’d introduced her as Mrs. Collins, a widow he was escorting to London. No one had looked at her twice. Perhaps it would be the same in Town. Perhaps no one remembered her.

She read to Richard for a long time before he finally fell asleep, and then because the room beside theirs, the one Jasper had taken, was still silent, she brushed her hair and changed into her night rail and robe. But she didn’t go to sleep. If tonight was to be their last night on the road, she wanted to spend it with Jasper. Who knew what would happen in London? She might never have another minute alone with him.

Finally, as her eye lids were beginning to droop, she heard the door in the room beside theirs open and close. She glanced at Richard, but he was sleeping with his arms thrown over his head, like he had when he’d been an infant. She went to her door, reached for the latch, then hesitated. Did she really plan to go to a man’s room? What did she think would happen if she knocked and he allowed her inside?

She knew what would happen. That was why she stood at the door. That was why she’d been waiting for him to come upstairs.

She knew Jasper wouldn’t come to her. No matter what she’d intimated this afternoon, he wouldn’t expect anything of her. He’d showed her not all men were like Withernsea. She’d known that, deep down, but she’d been so angry and so betrayed she hadn’t wanted to trust again. But Jasper’s patience and vulnerability had won her over. And even though she was eager to see her parents, something else she never thought she would feel again, she mourned each mile closer to London. She might very well lose Jasper once they returned to Town. He had a life there that might not have room for her or the scandal that accompanied her, and once she was under her parents’ protection, she would have to respect their decisions. Perhaps they would not think Jasper suitable.

She opened her door, looked right and left, and stepped into the empty corridor. She raised her hand to knock on Jasper’s door, but he opened it before she had the opportunity. “What are you doing out of your room?”

“I...” She didn’t know how to answer him. All she knew was she wanted to see him.

“Come inside before someone sees you.” He widened his door and stepped aside. She scooted inside and he closed the door behind her. Quite suddenly, she second-guessed her decision. He wasn’t wearing his shirt or his mask, and he stood closer than she was prepared for. She stepped back, only to feel the door press into her. Jasper put a hand on the door’s frame. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. It was difficult to think of words when he was this close to her. His hazel eyes looked green in the dim light of the candles and though she could see his scar, it didn’t detract at all from his handsomeness. His scent of smoke and clean soap enveloped her, and she closed her eyes and inhaled.

“You can tell me,” he said, obviously misunderstanding her expression. “Is it Richard?”

“He’s asleep,” she said. “It was no easy feat considering how excited he is to arrive in London tomorrow.”

“Why aren’t you asleep? Too excited?”

She shook her head.

“Worried?”

“Of course, but...” She should just say it. She’d regret it for the rest of her life if she didn’t say it. She looked into his eyes. “I’ll miss you.”

His brows actually came together in confusion. “I won’t abandon you.”

“I know. But it won’t be like it has been. I won’t have time alone with you.”

His gaze traveled to her lips then he determinedly brought it back to her eyes. “As I’ve explained, that’s probably for the best. They’ll be enough talk without the ton assuming something untoward between us.”

She fought the urge to view his words as a rejection. If she did so, she might as well walk back out the door she’d just come in. But if he’d meant them as a rejection why did he look as though he wanted to kiss her? Why did he not move away from her?

“It may be for the best, but it’s not until tomorrow. Untoward as it is, I want to spend part of the night with you.”

His eyes darkened, but he didn’t speak.

“Should I go back to my room?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

Without hesitating, she turned and reached for the latch. His hand covered hers before she could lift it. “Not yet,” he whispered next to her ear.

She shivered. “When?”

“After I do this.” He lifted her hair and brushed it over her shoulder, then lowered his lips to graze her neck. Her hand tightened on the latch at the rush of pleasure. His lips moved over her skin, creating delicious spirals of warmth. She curled her toes and let her head fall back to give him greater access. A soft moan escaped her lips, and it was a sound she knew she should have been embarrassed to make, but she couldn’t quite make herself care. All she cared about was the feel of Jasper’s lips.

When he pulled back, she turned her head to look at him, to look at his soft lips that gave her so much pleasure. “Shall I leave now?”

“After this.” He repeated his ministrations on the other side of her neck, this time moving the collar of the robe to press his lips to the patch of skin where her neck and shoulder met. Finally, she couldn’t resist any further and she turned to face him. He pulled her close, and she wrapped her arms about him and lifted her lips to graze his. He kissed her back and everything inside her seemed to melt until she wasn’t sure where she ended and he began. The kiss deepened and she clung more tightly until suddenly Jasper drew back.

“I’m sorry.”

She pulled his mouth back to hers, needing the connection between them. “Don’t stop.”

He kissed her again, and she returned his passion with her own. Her hands roamed over his shoulders, down his back, along his muscled arms. Touching him was amazing. His skin was sleek and muscled under her fingertips. His flesh was hot and the more she ran her fingers over him, the more fervent his kisses until finally he pushed her back against the door and pulled away, lowering his head onto her shoulder and breathing heavily.

“Why did you stop?” She slid her hands to his chest, and he grasped her wrists and stilled her.

“I need a moment.” His breathing was ragged and harsh.

“Have I done something wrong?” She shrank back now. She’d felt so safe and free, but perhaps she’d gone too far. She’d done something she shouldn’t have.

“No.” He tightened his grip on her wrists momentarily then looked into her eyes. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Did I make you lose control?” That was what Withernsea had said when, after he’d taken his pleasure, she lay crying on the cold floor. He’d blamed her, said she made him lose control.

Jasper furrowed his brow. “No. No one can ever make someone else lose control. You’re beautiful and—I won’t lie—I want you. But I am in control of my own actions, just as you are in control of your own actions.”

“But Withernsea said—” She clamped her mouth shut. She hadn’t meant to say his name. “I thought men were different. I thought they could reach a point where they lost all power over their desires.”

“That’s a lie told by someone who wants to blame someone else for his bad behavior. Nothing you could ever do would force me to lose control of my own actions.”

She took a deep breath, and it was almost as though this was the first deep breath she’d taken in a long, long time. She’d felt so guilty all these years, as though she had done something to cause Withernsea to rape her. But what Jasper said made sense. And he certainly proved it with his own behavior.

“Then why did you stop?” she asked.

He smiled. “You want me to kiss you again.”

“Yes!” she answered truthfully.

“I stopped because the rules changed. Before you didn’t want me to kiss you with my tongue. I made the mistake of doing so, but you told me to go on. You kissed me back.” He ran a finger along her cheek. “With your tongue.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Why? I liked it. But I want to be certain you like it.”

“I do. Before...I couldn’t. It’s different now.”

“Very well.”

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Can you kiss me again now?”

“Eager.” He brushed his lips over hers. “I like that. But I have one more question.”

She blew out a breath.

He seemed to be trying not to smile. “What do you want from me tonight?”

Her cheeks burned. Did she really have to say it aloud? “Nothing. I should go back to my room.” She started to pull away.

“There’s nothing wrong with desire, Olivia. I like that you want me. I just want to be clear as to what you want.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to feel pleasure. I want you to feel safe with me. I want you to think back on tonight and smile.”

His words made her skin burn hotter. But he didn’t look away from her. He gave her no reprieve from her mortification. “I don’t know what to say,” she whispered.

“Start by telling me what you don’t want.”

She swallowed. “I don’t want...I don’t want to do—” She waved her hand. “The act that produces babies.”

“Then we won’t do that. What else?”

“I don’t want you to hold me down.”

“Never.” He brushed his lips over hers again, his touch light. “What else?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can I undress you?”

Lord, she would burst from the embarrassment. “No.” She looked away from his intense hazel eyes. “You could do...like the other night.”

“Can I undress?”

“You are undressed!”

“I’ll take that as a no. Can we go to the bed?”

She nodded.

He took her hand. “Say the words, Olivia. I want to be sure.”

“Yes.”

With a gentle tug, he led her to the bed. When they were at the end, he toed off his boots and laid on the coverlet, head propped on his elbow. “Want to join me?”

Shyly, she sat on the edge. Then, when he didn’t attack her—not that she’d expected him to—she lay back and looked up at him.

He smiled down at her, smoothing her hair from her brow. “I thought you were a rum-dutchess when I first saw you.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means handsome. I look at you now and can’t believe you’re here with me.

She could only imagine as she probably looked disheveled from their kisses and tired from traveling. “You’re a very handsome man. I’m sure you’ve known many handsome women.”

“None as beautiful as you.”

“You’re delusional.”

“No, I’m not.” He kissed her brow then her nose then her eyes. She giggled. Her cheeks and her lips were next. “To me you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

She cupped his face. He flinched but allowed it. Perhaps she too should ask what was allowed. “To me, you are the most handsome man.”

He gave her a dubious look.

“You are, Jasper!”

He shook his head. “I have another question for you. The bed is fine. You want to stay clothed—mostly clothed.” He winked. “Can I touch you?”

She wanted to point out they were already touching. His body was warm against hers. But she knew he meant could he touch her intimately, as he had the night before. And, of course, that was why she was here—not entirely, but she certainly wanted that feeling again. “Yes,” she said. “I want you to touch me.”

“Where can I touch you? Your face?”

She nodded.

“Your neck?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Your breasts?”

Heat, part embarrassment and part arousal, shot through her. “Yes. Everywhere.” Anything to stop him from detailing every part of her body.

“That’s quite a lot of license.”

I trust you, she thought, but didn’t say. “Can I touch you?”

He grinned. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

“Everywhere?” she asked.

“Yes.” His look almost dared her. Did she have the courage to touch him there? He didn’t seem to think so. She wasn’t so certain either.

“Are we done talking now? Can you kiss me again?”

“About that—”

She groaned.

“Where can I kiss you?”

Oh, Lord. Not this again.

“Can I kiss your lips?”

“Everywhere, Jasper. Kiss me everywhere. Just kiss me.” And to end the conversation there and then she grasped his head and brought his lips to hers. He kissed her. He kissed her so thoroughly she was all but breathless. And he touched her. His hands were everywhere, warm and gentle and making her squirm with pleasure. It had been easy for him to part her robe and loosen the ties holding her night rail closed. She felt his lips on her breasts, and she arched her back in pleasure. When his hand moved up her leg, rubbing her knee, caressing her thigh, then stroking that juncture between her legs, she wasn’t afraid. She parted her legs for him. She wanted this, wanted him.

She wanted to touch him. The thought surprised her, but she didn’t dwell on it. Instead, she slid her hand from his hard abdomen to the waistband of his trousers. His mouth was still on her breast, but he paused in his sucking, obviously curious as to what she would do.

She’d thought she’d be afraid of his member. She knew the pain it could cause her, but she wasn’t fearful. She dropped her hand lower and felt the hard length of him. In wonder, she drew back.

He looked up at her. “You don’t have to touch me.”

She knew he thought she’d been frightened or disgusted. “It’s not that,” she said. “I didn’t realize it would be so hard or so big.”

His mouth twitched. “If you were anyone else, I’d think you were trying to flatter me.”

She gaped at him. “You take that as a compliment?”

“It’s a compliment to you.”

“How?”

“You have a son, so you know men don’t walk about in this condition all the time. I’m hard and...er, big because I want you. I’m attracted to you. I like being with you.”

“What will happen if I touch you again?”

“Nothing.”

“What if I reached inside and touched it?”

“Nothing you don’t want to happen will happen. No matter what you do.”

She slid her hand to his waistband again. “May I?”

He closed his eyes as though reaching for control. “Yes. Do you want me to lay back?”

She shook her head. “You can keep...doing what you’re doing.”

He laughed. “You like it, do you?” She blushed, but before she could duck her head, he caught her chin. “If you like it, tell me. It’s not wrong to like it. That’s the whole idea.”

“I like it,” she whispered.

He kissed her breast again, and she slid a hand inside the waist of his trousers. He was right there, the head of his member lying flush with the waistband. She explored the head, the velvet skin that felt as though it had been stretched over steel.

“I like that,” he murmured against her nipple.

Her hand slid down, feeling the hard length of him. He was hot, and she felt the blood pulsing against her palm where she touched him.

“You can stroke me, if you want,” he murmured, taking her nipple in his mouth. She didn’t have much room to move her hand, but she tried. He let out a slow, shuddering breath, making her skin pucker deliciously. She slid up and down his length again, and as she did so, his hand cupped her sex and one finger slid inside. She let out a soft moan.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Yes,” she breathed. He stroked her, matching his movements to hers on him. She finally understood how the act that had produced Richard could have been. How it should have been. As her body reacted to his touch, she wished she’d told him to undress. She could change her mind now. What would it feel like to have his naked body pressed against hers?

“I made a suggestion last night,” he said, his lips moving to brush against her earlobe.

She shivered. “What was that?”

“I think you remember.”

How could she forget? “Your tongue,” she said.

“That’s right.” His finger slid out of her then up and over that sensitive place. “Right here.”

She gasped. “What’s wrong with this way?”

“Not a thing, but if you agree, I’ll show you the other way and you can judge for yourself.”

She swallowed. It seemed rather indecent to allow him to put his mouth between her legs. Of course, if she had been acting in the way Society considered decent, she wouldn’t be half naked, sprawled on his bed with his hand up her skirts and hers down his trousers. She’d enjoyed everything he’d done so far...

“Shall I?” he asked.

“If I don’t like it?”

“Tell me to stop.”

He slid down her body, and she withdrew her hand. He rose to his knees then moved between her legs, parting them wider. “I have to lift your skirts a bit more,” he said. As he spoke, he ran a hand between her breasts, his gaze on her making her hot and excited. The way he looked at her was both full of desire and reverence. “May I?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He pushed her skirts up, bending to touch his lips to her thighs as he did so. She grasped the coverlet with her hands to keep from wriggling. Finally, she felt the hem trail over her hips, and she knew she was exposed to him. He paused in his kissing and glanced at her face. “May I look at you?”

She nodded.

“The words, love. I want no confusion. Can I spread your legs and look at you?”

“Yes.”

He nudged her legs open, his movements gentle but firm. Then she felt his hands on her sex, opening her. “You’re perfect.” One finger slid inside her again, and she tensed as the pleasure zinged through her. “Pink and wet.”

The more he talked, the more he looked, the more the pleasure inside her built. He slid his finger out. “Don’t come yet, love. If you wait, it will be even better.”

She tightened her hands on the covers she’d clenched as he bent and pressed his lips to the curls between her legs. She jerked at first then settled as she became used to the feel of him. But then he moved lower, his tongue tracing her folds. She moaned and bucked as he licked her.

“Not yet,” he said. She bit her lips, her body beginning to shake as he opened her with his fingers then licked his way to that small bud he’d found the night before. White hot pleasure flashed through her, and she couldn’t stop the moan this time. She couldn’t stop the way her hips rolled or her nipples ached.

“Patience, love,” he whispered, his breath hot against her. He licked her, teased her, circled her, and she knew she was being too loud, but she couldn’t control the sounds coming from her. He’d been right. This was better. She didn’t know the words to describe how good this was. Her hands fisted in his hair as his head moved up and down then side to side as he pleasured her. Finally, he slid his hands under her hips, raised her to him as though she was a feast for his taking. She didn’t have any patience left. She let go and felt as though she were flying. Her body shook and trembled and she knew she had to bite off a scream. It was so wonderful, so absolutely amazing.

She didn’t know how she would ever stop herself from loving him now.