Chapter 36
He fell rather than joined. Perhaps he’d been premature coming out tonight, testing his recovery, but he couldn’t help himself. The look on Nicola’s face was worth every ragged step he’d taken as stumbled up Honeywell Lane.
Against doctor’s orders. He was meant to stay in bed for the next twenty-four hours. That would have been fine if Nicola had been at his bedside to place a cool and calming hand upon his brow or order him about. He’d been deluged with people all day inquiring into his health, but none of them had been the one he wanted.
In vain, Jack had been hopeful Nicola might sneak out to him once it was dark, but she hadn’t come. He simply couldn’t wait any longer. He might have been wobbly from climbing the hill and up her stairs, but he was here, exactly where he wanted to be, a little overdressed. Jack would remedy that soon.
Nicola’s pillowcases were heavily embroidered with white thread, with French knots and split stitches, satin and chain. Jack wasn’t sure why he even knew their names—his mother was not a skilled needlewoman. Domesticity was not her forte. There must have been a maid or governess somewhere in his dim past who had calmed herself with sewing after his many antics in the nursery at Ashburn.
His rough finger caught at the threads. He couldn’t bear to hurt her, to tear her.
But she had been very insistent about this, before his accident. Jack hoped she hadn’t changed her mind in the interim—he wasn’t as handsome as he used to be. Nicola had chosen him for this welcome task, however, and with any luck after this, she would agree to be his wife.
Yes, he was going to anticipate his marriage vows. Life was short, as he’d recently come to know. Jack had held off quite as long as he could. Nicola had worn him down until he couldn’t with any honesty say why they should wait.
He loved her. And here she was for his delectation, her fair hair spread out on the pillow as it was in all his dreams. He’d drawn her in this position a dozen times—without the pink nightgown—had in fact done so today once he was finally left alone by all his well-meaning visitors.
“J-Jack!”
“Yes, it is I. I missed you today.”
“You shouldn’t be out of bed!”
“As you can see, I’m in bed. Just not my own.” He gave her what he hoped was a saucy look. For all he knew, he resembled a hyena.
“But—but I was going to come to you! Tomorrow night.” Her cheeks flushed in the lamplight.
That was especially good news. “Don’t make me go home. I don’t think I could anyhow.” He’d thought Dr. Oakley was too conservative, but perhaps the man had had a point. Bedrest might be boring, but the trek from Tulip Cottage had been exhausting. Jack only hoped he could perform later in a satisfactory manner. He would hate to disappoint Nicola after all of her confidence in him.
“Why are you here?”
“I think you know. I give in. Capitulate. Surrender. If you find me a thesaurus, I’m sure I could come up with more words.”
Her eyebrows knit. “I don’t understand.”
“Oh, I think you do. You’ve been trying to seduce me for ages. I’m going to let you.”
For a second he thought Nicola would whack him with one of those pretty pillows. Instead, she rolled off the bed.
“Wait here.”
As if he could move. He lay back while she disappeared in a pink blur from the room, watching the shadows undulate on the ceiling. Perhaps he should let her mount him—he understood that position was beneficial to a lady’s satisfaction. To tell the truth, he was not feeling in optimal condition.
But he was here, and wouldn’t waste his chance. Jack summoned some energy and began to take his clothes off with trembling fingers. Good lord, he was as nervous as a schoolboy.
Before he’d made much progress with his buttons, she returned, bearing a bowl and spoon.
“What’s that?”
Nicola grinned. “My secret weapon. Unless you are really tired of them. I had planned to come to you tomorrow with peaches.” Her smile faltered. “Maybe it’s a silly idea.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. Even if they are not as sweet as you are. Where are we putting them?”
“Putting them?”
“Yes. Am I to eat them out of the bowl, or some other spot?” He waggled an eyebrow.
“Jack! I cannot—do people actually—I don’t think—”
“Calm down, love. The bowl will be fine tonight. In the future, who knows where those peaches will find themselves?” He wasn’t at all hungry, but dutifully downed a few slices as Nicola watched him with an anxious expression on her face. He held out the spoon, and she took a bite of her own.
“I warn you, I may not be at my absolute best. But I hope I have time to improve. A future, with or without peaches. Nicola, would you do me the honor of marrying me?”
“What?”
Her shock was evident—he caught the spoon before it stained the bedcovers. “I’ve been thinking. You’ve made me think. It’s time I looked ahead, and I want you to be there with me.”
It was also time for him to kiss the confusion from her face. She tasted of peaches and smelled of lily of the valley. Jack was transported to high summer, far from Puddling’s frost. He would bask in her delicious warmth for the rest of his days.
Nicola would keep him steady. Steer him in the right direction. In turn, he’d never let any harm befall her if he could help it. Love her, because she was so very lovable. Diamond-bright in his firmament, the only star. He’d forgotten to give her the ring, but it was now in his jacket pocket on the floor, along with the other items of clothing that Nicola was so efficiently helping him to remove.
Her nightgown fluttered through the air, and Jack’s breathing stilled. My God, she was lovely. And his.
He proceeded to kiss every smooth surface available—her shoulders, her breasts, her throat, even her chin. She still looked adorably dazed, her blue eyes half-shut. But she was touching him too, almost as if he would break. Each fingertip seared his soul and stiffened his already rampant cock.
He wanted more, but he reined himself in. Nicola was a virgin—for all her charming recent forwardness, she was an innocent. True, a little less innocent since he’d met her. He kissed her mouth deeply, moving his hand to the juncture of her thighs. His finger slid between her folds, and a slow swipe told him she was wet already.
But not enough. His mouth followed the path of his hand, licking her skin. She didn’t skitter away, but thrust up toward him, offering herself for his delight. She was pure woman, and Jack felt as if he was discovering her body—and his own—for the first time. Blood spiked and swirled inside him, his heart racing, her taste on his tongue. All symptoms of his illness vanished, and he’d never been surer of anything.
He loved. He loved Nicola. There were no doubts. Why was he hesitating to make her his in the most elemental way? Time-honored. Traditional. He was more than ready, but he had to hear her assent from her own lips.
“You’re certain?” he asked, his voice rough. “There’s no going back on this seduction business once we get started.”
She nodded, her eyes filled with tears. Happy ones, he hoped.
“You must do better than nodding. I want you to tell me.”
“Yes, yes, yes. So many yesses.”
“I love you.” Jack centered his body and guided himself a fraction inside her. Her hiss made him pause, but she shook her head and squeezed his forearms.
“Don’t stop now.”
He probably could have, but was glad he didn’t have to test his discipline. In seconds he was seated within her, her exquisite heat and moisture surrounding him. Jack took a moment to release the breath he’d been holding in. Nicola gazed up at him, her expression unreadable.
“Are you…all right?”
“Be quiet, Jack. No more talking. I just want to feel.” Her eyes fluttered shut.
Her permission was all he needed. It had been such a long time since his last sexual encounter, he’d wondered to himself if he still knew how it was done.
It appeared he did.
He remembered to kiss lips and earlobes and eyelids. Cup her soft cheek. Nibble on her neck. Slip his hand between them. Press down so successfully upon her womanhood, she cried out and lifted off the bed. Flush with success, he rubbed her again and again until she was forced to speak, though he couldn’t understand a thing she said. Lose himself so far inside her it was only sheer luck he was able to withdraw in time and spend against her.
Jack drew Nicola to him, their hearts hammering in a staccato duet.
“Words truly fail.”
She nodded, but said nothing.
“You don’t mind if I talk now, do you? I love you, Nicola. You’ve made me happy for the first time in months.” He brushed a strand of her taffy hair behind her ear. “I have a confession—I’m a baron. Lord Jonathan Haskell Ryder. Isn’t it absurd to do what we just did and not even know each other’s surnames? You’re going to be a baroness. I hope you don’t mind.”
Nicola pulled away and sat up. To Jack’s disappointment, she held an embroidered pillow over most of her body.
“I—I can’t marry you, Jack.”
Her words clubbed him in the gut. “Why not?”
“You don’t know who I am, and when you find out—I’m so sorry. It just won’t work.”
He elbowed his way up the bed. Nicola looked miserable. Not like a woman who’d been in the throes of ecstasy not five minutes before. “What in hell do you mean?”
“I didn’t expect you to propose. I only wanted to…to have carnal relations with you.”
Nicola might as well have been using fractured sign language—he couldn’t understand a bloody thing.
She had been a virgin, he would swear by it. Why would she gift him with her body and then toss him away? “What do you have against marriage?”
“Nothing, per se. I cannot marry you.”
“Well, that’s clear as mud. Is it because of my black moods? Because since I met you, I’m better—I know I am! I said I loved you, Nicola, and I meant it—I’ve never said those words to another woman in my life. You’d never want for anything!” Jack broke off in disgust. He was not going to beg.
She blinked back tears, which Jack was sure he’d had no part in. “You’ve told me your name, so I will tell you mine. It’s Mary Nicola Mayfield. Now do you see?”