Jocelyn dawdled over her preparations for bed.
Susan finished deftly braiding her hair. “Will that be all, Mrs. Sherbourne?”
“Yes, thank you, Susan. I’ll see you in the morning.” She reached out to still her maid for an instant. “I’m very sorry about Ella. Please, if there is anything I can do to help you have only to ask.”
Pain flickered over Susan’s face. Her mouth worked before she dipped her head in curt acceptance and withdrew, leaving Jocelyn alone with her nightmare. Leo—a murderer. The evidence was conclusive. After her mistake with Boynton, she’d listened to her instincts and trusted Leo. It was only after her arrival at Merrivale and witnessing his strange behavior that she’d become confused and wondered about his innocence.
The facts remained. Someone had murdered Ursula and the maid. Someone had kidnapped Ella and left her traumatized, her mind addled. If Leo wasn’t the murderer, then who’d committed the crime?
Despite the late hour, restless energy filled her. Perhaps she’d find a book in the library. Jocelyn tightened the belt on her wrapper and left her chamber. Several candles still burned in the wall sconces, and she found her way without difficulty. She scanned the library shelves, searching for a book to pique her interest.
A loud creak made her pause. She cocked her head and heard the distinct scuffle of feet. Her breath caught, her thoughts skipping ahead to murder. She listened for a few seconds longer, trepidation making her indecisive.
Finally Jocelyn gathered her wits and slinked to the door, glad she hadn’t pulled it fully shut. The front door creaked as it opened. Familiar muttering propelled Jocelyn to action.
“Mother, what are you doing out of bed? Where is Tilly?”
“I saw lights outside. Someone is beckoning me. I have to go.” Before Jocelyn could remonstrate, her mother ran outside.
“Mother!”
“W-who goes there?” Somewhere to Jocelyn’s right, a servant called a high-pitched query. The nervous stutter sounded like the youngest footman.
“It’s Mrs. Sherbourne. Summon Woodley and tell him my mother is outside.” Jocelyn dallied no longer. She grabbed the closest pair of boots and thrust her bare feet into them. They were wet inside and too big. Ignoring the damp ooze, she clenched her toes and clomped down the steps into the night. After pausing for precious seconds to listen, she hurried along a gravel path, almost tripping over her feet in her haste. St. Bridget’s nose! She should have taken the time to grab her own footwear.
“Mother!”
A cloud slid across the partial moon. Jocelyn slowed, her progress more tentative now that her vision was obscured. Dew covered the grass and plants, weighting down the hem of her wrapper. A chill nibbled her bare ankles with every step.
“Mother!” She bit off a second call, recalling the face she’d seen at the window. She proceeded cautiously, approaching a fork in the path with vigilance. The crisp crunch of a branch underfoot stopped her in her tracks. “Mother?”
A familiar mumble came from the right Ah! “Mother,” Jocelyn said. “You have to come back inside. It’s not safe wandering around in the dark.”
She raced around a corner and plowed into someone. “Oomph!” The air whooshed from her lungs. Hands wrapped around her upper arms like containment cuffs. Squeezing. One hand fastened around her throat. Fingers pressed deep. The scent of horse and a whiff of soap wrapped around her. She fought, lashed out with her feet. One boot fell off.
“Stop fighting,” a muffled voice snarled.
“Help!” Jocelyn screamed. She wriggled frantically and lashed out with her feet. Her bare foot connected with her captive’s legs and pain radiated up her shin. “Help!”
A loud screech rent the air. Jocelyn turned her head to see something white hurtling toward them. Ghostlike and terrifying, the creature waved its arms and wailed. Abruptly, she was freed, a hand shoving her in the middle of her back. Jocelyn lurched forward, her arms flapping for balance. Her knees collided painfully with the gravel path, her palms striking seconds later. Agony shot through her limbs.
“Ow.” She groaned and slowly pushed herself off her hands and knees.
“Ghost!” A familiar shriek sounded near her ear.
“Mother?” Jocelyn flinched at yet another screech right next to her ear. She grasped her mother’s shoulders and shook her. “Mother, it’s me. For pity’s sake, please stop that infernal racket. You’re deafening me.”
The high-pitched screams halted abruptly. “You’re not a ghost?” Hands patted Jocelyn—her face, her torso. “You’re not a ghost. Georgina, what are you doing outside?”
“It’s Jocelyn, Mother. Georgina is in London.”
“I don’t know any Jocelyn. Where’s Georgina? Or Charlotte? Get Charlotte. She’ll know what to do.”
“Mother, Charlotte and Georgina are both in London with their families.”
A violent tremor swept her mother. “It’s cold out here. I’m cold, Georgina. Cassie said there would be fairies. I wanted to see the fairies dancing.”
“Mother, someone is playing tricks on you. Let me help you back inside. You’ll catch a chill out here.”
“Jocelyn!” a familiar voice yelled.
“Over here,” she shouted.
Seconds later, Woodley appeared on the path. “Are you all right?”
Jocelyn shivered. “Woodley, someone was out here. I don’t know who it was, but Mother frightened him off.”
“Where is Georgina? I want Georgina.” His mother’s querulous voice cut through Jocelyn’s explanations.
“Oh, dear,” Woodley murmured.
“Indeed,” Jocelyn said, sadness engulfing her at the confusion in her mother.
“Come, let me escort you both inside.” Woodley grasped her mother’s arm and assisted her down the path, leaving Jocelyn to fend for herself. Her shoulders slumped as she clomped along in one too-large boot and a bare foot. She longed for a warm bed, and a good night’s rest. Unfortunately, she didn’t think tonight would contain much sleep.
Leo slipped from the shadows under the trees. He didn’t know what to think. Someone was skulking around the manor, and since it was in the middle of the night, their presence didn’t bode well.
After a slow, careful search of the grounds with no sightings, Leo suspected the person had departed. At least Jocelyn was safe. Leo prowled another circuit of the gardens, and once satisfied the intruder no longer lurked in the vicinity, he searched for access to the manor. The only door open was the one to the servants’ entrance. With noiseless steps, he slipped inside.
A deep snort drew him up abruptly. A junior footman sat on a chair, his eyes closed and mouth agape. Leo’s arm snaked out to shake him awake, ready to demand an explanation before he thought better of the action. He’d face all sorts of questions if anyone other than Jocelyn saw him. Leo grimaced. He was taking a risk as it was. Cartwright didn’t realize he’d flitted away from his post early, and Leo hoped to return to Cartwright’s residence without the constable realizing he’d gone back on his vow.
Leo crept past, increasing his speed once the slumbering footman was behind him. With the ease of familiarity, he moved up the dimly lit stairs, skipping over the stair second from bottom to avoid a nasty creak. He entered his chamber and closed the door before making his way to the connecting entrance to Jocelyn’s room.
Her flowery scent drifted to him as soon as he stepped inside. His lips curved into a smile as memories drifted through his mind. She wore a dab between her breasts and another behind her ears. He’d discovered that while exploring her body with his mouth. He couldn’t wait to rain kisses on her neck but first…first he had to make sure she didn’t scream bloody murder.
“Jocelyn.” He sat on the edge of her bed and gently shook her shoulder, poised to slap his hand over her mouth if she attempted to shriek. “Jocelyn.”
“What is it? Is it Mother again?” Her voice slurred with fatigue. Her eyes opened, focused, and a thin scream escaped.
Grabbing her, he cut off most of the sharp cry. “It’s Leo. Jocelyn, it’s Leo. Your husband. Don’t scream again. Please.” God, she had to believe in his innocence. “I’m going to take my hand away, but if you scream again, I’ll gag you.” Please don’t scream, sweetheart. “Nod, if you’re willing to talk.”
She nodded slowly, her eyes big and wide.
Watching her warily, he released her.
“Leo, what are you doing here?” She bolted upright, her voice carrying an edge of dread.
Her terror made his chest tighten, his breath catch in regret. How had it come to this? Him, a suspected murderer and his wife afraid of him. “Let me light a candle.” He made short work of the task, relaxing when she didn’t raise the alarm. “I didn’t murder those women, and I had nothing to do with Ella’s disappearance.”
“Then why has Captain Cartwright charged you with the crime?” Her blue eyes accused him, her body tense as if she was poised to flee. “Does Captain Cartwright know you’ve escaped?”
Disappointment coursed through him, and he scarcely contained his wince. She didn’t believe him. “He knows I’m not guilty.”
“If that’s the case why have you been taken into custody?”
Leo sighed. “I can’t tell you.”
“That’s convenient,” Jocelyn said.
Despite his frustration, Leo fought a flash of humor. Jocelyn’s straightforward approach was refreshing, and it was part of the reason he liked her so much. The rationale for offering her marriage, despite her past. “I can’t stay past dawn,” he said instead of expressing his delight in her.
“Why are you here?”
“I came to see my wife.” Leo caught her gaze with his. “I came to make love with her.”
“I—you’re meant to be in jail.”
Her clipped response wasn’t reassuring, but tonight would not go the same way as the previous evenings. Jocelyn was his wife, and they could have a good marriage. She enjoyed their bed sport and could hardly refute it. Still watching her, he stood and started to disrobe. Her eyes widened a fraction, but she didn’t call out or speak. Instead her blue gaze followed his progress, skimming his chest then lowering to stare at his engorged cock.
“This isn’t right.” She glowered at him, her mouth in a mulish set that reminded him of Elizabeth. “I don’t want this.”
“Because you believe I am guilty of murder.”
“Yes.”
“On the night of Ursula’s death she and I argued. I was so angry I returned to the party at Hartscombe. I spent the rest of the evening with a woman.”
“Who?”
“I can’t give you her name. I don’t want to harm her reputation.”
“Huh! A plausible excuse, I’m sure.” Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, leaving them glistening in the candlelight.
Naked, he closed the distance between them. At the edge of the bed, he halted, meeting her glower with one of his own. “You can shriek for help or you can spend a few hours with me.”
“Trust you?”
“Yes.” He sat on the edge of the bed and, unable to resist, tugged lightly on her fiery red braid. “Is that so difficult?”
She nibbled her bottom lip, a frown creasing her forehead. “I don’t know what to believe,” she said. “Captain Cartwright must have had a good reason not to arrest you for Ursula’s murder. He doesn’t strike me as one who’d accept a bribe.”
“And what else?” He could tell something else bothered her.
“Captain Cartwright is an intelligent man. From what I’ve seen of him, he’s both honest and efficient. I doubt you’d escape his custody, which means he released you for some reason.” Her gaze felt as if it drilled through him, and he wasn’t sure what she’d decide. Yet even with his freedom hanging in balance, pride swelled within him. Jocelyn didn’t miss much, which made her skepticism galling.
Leo caught her gaze darting to his chest. Maybe he had an edge after all. “Are you going to let me into your bed or not?”
Her gaze slid down his naked body and a sultry smile bloomed on her lips. It didn’t reach her eyes, which told him she held serious reservations. “Haven’t you made the decision for both of us already?” She wriggled across the mattress, leaving a space for him. For reasons known to her, she was letting him have his way, but uncertainties roiled in his gut. Would she betray him?
They stared at each other for a long moment, and the residual worry left his shoulders. He’d trust her—for now. Satisfaction replaced his earlier disappointment. As always, Jocelyn’s presence calmed him. Never had the contrast between Jocelyn and Ursula yawned so wide. Grateful and desperate to touch his wife, he slid beneath the covers and pulled her rigid body against him. Unable to resist, he nuzzled her neck and placed a kiss on the curve of her cheek. A pity she’d bound her hair in a tight braid. He rather liked the heavy mass loose and glinting like flames flickering in the night.
“Leo?”
“Yes.”
“You scared me half to death, popping into my chamber like a magical creature. You’re lucky I didn’t wake everyone. Does Captain Cartwright know you’re here?”
“Who did you expect it to be?”
“You haven’t answered my question.” She scowled before a chuckle burst from her, another sultry sound that grabbed him by the balls. “A strange man intending to seduce me?”
“Your husband is interested in seduction. And no, Cartwright doesn’t know, but he did release me for the night.”
“Why?” She wriggled, until her breasts flattened against the wall of his chest.
“We’re investigating together.” Leo hugged her tight, his relief palpable. She might harbor doubts, but for now she was accommodating.
“Tell me about Ursula.”
The words pricked him like a sharp needle. “What?”
“Tell me about your first wife.”
“I don’t wish to discuss her.”
Jocelyn drew back, and he forced his expression to impassive. He couldn’t allow her to witness the fury coursing through him, couldn’t risk what she might see on his face.
“If you want me to trust you, I need something in return.”
“No.” Leo pulled away. Hell, he was making a mess of this, but thoughts of Ursula, the way she’d played him always shoved him into anger. “We can talk about anything you like, anyone except Ursula.” He tried to soften his tone but didn’t pull it off. When the determined waves coming from her continued he struck with a low blow. “I’ve never asked you why you didn’t marry like your sisters or how you came to the situation Melburn found you in.”
She flinched, and his insides felt as if someone had knifed him with a rusty blade. Guilt. Damn it, he refused to soil their marriage with memories of that traitorous bitch.
“You’re asking a lot from me.” She didn’t attempt to keep the tartness from her tone.
He hated to see her disillusion. And it didn’t help that she was right. He was asking for trust without reciprocating. With a hand that trembled, he reached for her again. “I’m sorry, Jocelyn. I—it’s a part of my life I don’t wish to dwell on any longer. We both have pasts we’d prefer to forget. I want to concentrate on our future, on Cassandra and any children we might have together.” He stared down at her, taking in every minute shift of her expression, the flicker of her rapid thoughts.
Please, let her accept his direction in this matter.
His fists clenched. Hell, he’d wanted Ursula to die. No, he hadn’t killed her, yet he couldn’t help feeling glad he was free of her viperous tongue and her mischief. Fool! Even now his first wife cast tall shadows.
“If that’s what you wish,” she said finally.
“It is.” Relief swept him, despite her grudging capitulation. Full of gratitude, he drew her close and kissed her, putting everything he couldn’t say into his caress. His touch spoke of his approval, his growing friendship and physical lust for her. He demonstrated their future, his hopes, his dreams, and by the time he lifted his head they were both breathing rapidly.
Unable to resist, he traced the plump curve of her bottom lip with his thumb, approval joining the growing raft of emotions thrumming inside him. Her tongue flickered out to lick his thumb. His breath hitched, his gaze shooting to hers. Desire filled her eyes, and something stirred in him. Not lust exactly, but something else. Something precious.
She opened her mouth and closed her lips around his thumb. He started, heat streaking straight to his cock. A groan escaped him, and humor danced in her eyes. She sucked hard and his cock lengthened. The minx knew exactly what she was doing, exactly how to thrust him into stark need. He cupped her cheek with his free hand, savoring the warmth of her silky skin. Every breath he took contained the scent of flowers. Whenever he saw flowers now, he thought of Jocelyn.
“I want to run my fingers through your hair.” The hoarse words burst from him, scarcely louder than a whisper.
Her mouth opened and his thumb popped free. “Are you volunteering to brush the knots out in the morning?”
“Anything. I like your hair, the feel of it against my skin. It always looks so alive.” And the visual of seeing the liquid fire spread across the pillow appealed to him on so many levels.
She tugged the end of her braid free, her eyes now full of seduction. The vague sense of being played flitted through his mind, but he let it slip away, too entranced by her sultry attractions.
“Please, let me.” Performing mundane services for her enchanted him. Hell, it made him crave her body all the more. The simple act of unfastening a button or tying a lace forged a connection, an intimacy between man and woman that he’d come to enjoy.
She turned her head to give him better access. He made short work of the ribbon and used his fingers to separate the silken strands. Once he’d completed the self-imposed task, he tugged on the thin chemise she wore. “This should go too.”
Minutes later, he’d divested her of clothing and she lay facing him. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, hiding one of her breasts. She blinked at him, the action seductive and snaring him tighter.
“What now, husband?”
A curl of emotion wrapped around his heart. Husband. Swallowing to dispel the tightness in his throat, he rolled to lie flat on the mattress. “Ride me. I have a yearning to see your pretty breasts bounce while you take your pleasure.”
Dimpling, she straddled his hips. Her hands smoothed across bulging pectoral muscles, glided across his shoulders, leaving a trail of prickling enjoyment. His mouth dried, his gaze seeking the damp flesh between her thighs. Her fingers followed the trail of hair leading to his groin, her hands small and capable, fingertips silky against his skin.
“Yes,” he whispered.
Every muscle pulled taut, the need to hurry a frantic beat of his heart. He wanted to hasten but fought the inclination, part of him curious about what she’d do next. Fleetingly, he thought of the men in her past. A flash of jealousy, which he shoved away. Nothing should interfere with their marriage.
“Are you ticklish?”
“No.”
“I might check to see if you’re fibbing.”
He was no liar. He opened his mouth to remonstrate then flinched when she plucked his nipple between two fingers. Predictably, her touch echoed in his cock. She skimmed her fingers along his rib cage, seemingly satisfied when he didn’t squirm. She took her time, learning his body and his reactions in a way she hadn’t done to date. Leo discovered freedom in allowing her to take the lead. Joy. She nuzzled his neck, kissing and alternatively nipping his flesh, torturing him with sensual bites until he trembled like a green lad.
“God’s teeth, Jocelyn. Please take me inside you.”
Solemnly, she studied him. “I want to learn you.”
“We have plenty of time. Years to study each other.” The unspoken words—if he didn’t hang for murder—rang between them.
Her smile faltered before she rallied. “You haven’t given me leave to explore you before.”
“All you needed to do was ask.”
She squirmed down his body until he could feel her damp heat against the base of his shaft. Each time she moved, he bit his lip and steeled himself against taking the reins.
At last, she lifted her hips, and he sighed in relief. Finally. But once again, she surprised him, moving lower so she straddled his upper thighs. She gripped his cock firmly, sent him an impish grin and lowered her head. The air whooshed out of him as her mouth enclosed the tip. The wet heat seared him. Unable to hold completely still, he reached for her hair, gripping handfuls like an anchor. God, her mouth felt good—the lash of her tongue even better. With minimum effort, a few practiced moves, she hurled him toward ecstasy. His balls drew tight, aching in a bite of pleasure. Holding back took effort, and he trembled.
“Jocelyn, I’m going to spill in your mouth if you keep that up.”
She lifted her head, her mouth making a faint popping sound when she released his shaft. “I don’t think that would be a problem, Leo. I’ve already learned you care about pleasing your lovers, and give in return.”
“Lover,” he corrected, his voice stiff.
“Did you not say you took a lover once you knew your wife was unfaithful?” As she spoke, she maneuvered her body and guided him to her entrance. She pushed down, slowly impaling herself. Her brows rose, silently demanding an answer.
“One,” he said finally.
She nodded. “Understandable. And what happened to your lover?” She pressed down, taking him to the hilt, questioning him while he was at his weakest.
“I’d prefer not to discuss the matter.” He owed Anna his silence. She’d faced her brother’s wrath for him.
Jocelyn narrowed her gaze. “I applaud you on your discretion.” She lifted and settled again with a sigh, her breasts swaying, her delight in the sexual act evident. “Are you going to tell me more?”
“No. Cup your breasts. Pinch your nipples. I might reconsider if you tell me about your past.”
“Touché.” Her head tilted to the side, the shift of her weight repositioning her hair to screen one breast. “Do you like watching?”
“I like watching you.” A parade of faceless men marched through his mind before a focused blink scattered them to the winds. Stupid. He’d thought about jealousy and accepted her past. “You’re a beautiful woman.”
“I’m not beautiful.”
He caught her pained expression, the way she closed down and her hands dropped away from her breasts. She stopped moving. “Hannah is beautiful. Arabella is beautiful.”
His mind fixed on a truth. While he was experiencing jealousy, she was in an equally challenging position. One of uncertainty, and now wondering if she’d married a murderer. As a man, he had the power to set her aside and withdraw his support. If anything, her risk was greater than his. Because of her responsibility for her mother, she had more to lose.
“You’re beautiful to me.” He tugged on a lock of her red hair and smiled. Her internal muscles flexed, caressing his shaft and shooting a burst of pleasure to the depths of his body. “Your red hair reminds me of sunsets. I like to kiss and lick the scatters of freckles on your face and chest because they remind me of tart spices. And I like you, Jocelyn. Always.”
Doubt still marked her solemn face, so he hooked his hand around her neck, dragged her down and kissed her, using all the experience he’d acquired through the years. After seconds of resistance, she melted. She made a soft woof of sound, kissing him hard in return, her hands clenching his shoulders. When she finally lifted her head, passion darkened her eyes. Her delight sparkled in her blue eyes, lighting her features with mischief. She started to move again, rising and falling above him. His gaze drifted down to her breasts. They bounced in a delightful manner, grabbing his appreciative attention.
“Touch yourself.”
Her measured rise and fall faltered.
“Do it,” he insisted.
“It’s not ladylike.”
“I don’t want a lady in my bed.”
“Are you sure about that?” Her grin suffered under restraint, dimming the joy in her eyes, and he wanted it back.
“Jocelyn, I want you.”
To his relief, her tension receded as she appeared to come to a decision. She caressed his hip and increased her pace. Leo had trouble biting back a groan at the incredible friction massaging his rod. Heat rampaged through him. His balls ached so much he had to grit his teeth against the throb of pain.
“Jocelyn.” A plea full of emotion.
She sucked in a breath. Her fingers trailed down her thighs and slipped between her nether lips. She stroked firmly, and on the down strokes, he felt the pressure of her finger on the base of his cock. It was too much. Not enough. He caught his breath, releasing it on a moan as pleasure flooded his body. He was vaguely aware of breathy sounds emerging from Jocelyn. The flush on her cheeks intensified. Her eyes squeezed tight, and he felt the rhythmic pulse of her, clutching his shaft. Finally, she stilled and her eyes opened.
“Come here,” he said softly.
She fell against him, and he wrapped his arms around her, peace rippling through him. His instinct to join her had been a good one. While they still didn’t know each other well, the bedroom was a place where they were well-matched. At the very least it would bring the possibility of a child closer. A baby would tie them together because he knew, without a doubt, no matter what she might think of him, Jocelyn would never walk away from a child.