Chapter Thirteen
Jason made his way back to his townhouse only to find his brother waiting in his study for him.
“Patrick, I didn’t realize you were still in London, I thought you mentioned returning to the country for a while,” Jason said.
“I wasn’t. I made a special trip.” Irritation edged his brother’s usual even tone, giving it a sharper note.
“Something wrong?”
“I should say so,” Patrick said. “I received a visit from Mr. Sandifer, and he had a most interesting tale to tell me.”
Damnation.
This was not how this was supposed to go. It was supposed to happen in the event of Jason’s death. He had a mind to fire that damned solicitor. Shortly after Jason had married Isabel, he’d contacted their family solicitor and had papers drawn up dictating that, should he produce an heir with his wife, the title and estate should still be left to his nephew, Jonathon. Mr. Sandifer had told him at the time that such a document would likely not stand up legally to the laws that mandated inheritance, but Jason had insisted the man create the document.
“Let me explain,” Jason said.
Patrick held up his hand, closed his eyes, and took a steadying breath. “I don’t want to hear your explanation. I have tried to be patient with you, Jason, about all this nonsense. But it seems that no amount of time or patience ever makes a difference. You are the only one who cares about the details of your birth, and you’re allowing that to cloud everything in your life.”
“You know?” Jason asked. He sank into a chair, allowing his brother’s words to settle into his mind.
“Of course. Do you think Mother and Father would not tell me the truth as well?”
“I don’t know.” Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. “I never even considered—”
“No, you did not. You never considered anything, save how you felt about the situation.”
“You are the rightful heir. The estate should go to your son,” Jason said.
“No, it should not. You are the viscount. Right or wrong, it is how our parents decided on it. It is not our place to undo that. The news would create rumors about my own birth. It would destroy Mother, not to mention my family and me. Our father was well respected and well loved, as is our mother now. Can you not simply let things be?”
Jason had no answer. He didn’t know why he could never let this go. In his mind, it was the one thing that defined him, for better or for worse. He could still hear Tom, his real father’s words ringing in his ears: you can’t run away from who you are.
“Jason, do you not understand that I have the life that I want? I love my family as it is. I have no desire to be viscount, and I certainly don’t want that for my son. We enjoy the serenity and simplicity of the countryside. We are well provided for, and we are happy.” He braced his hands on the desk. “You have a wife now. Build your family, produce your own heir. And leave this nonsense in the past,” he said, tossing the parchment onto the occasional table.
“Any heir of mine will not be legitimate, either,” Jason said.
“Not legitimate in your eyes only.” Patrick sighed, and his features softened. “Jason, I know that this is difficult for you. But you simply must stop punishing yourself for something you never did. You deserve to be viscount. You’re certainly a hell of a lot better at it than I would be. And neither myself nor my son will be taking the title from you. I need you to understand that.” He gripped Jason’s shoulder and squeezed it. “Your new wife is lovely.”
“Yes, she is.”
“And this makes you angry?”
“No, it is not that. I have not been particularly kind to her.”
Patrick nodded. “Marriage is not always easy, but I can see that you love her already.”
It was on his tongue to protest.
The clock on the mantle struck the hour. “I have to get back on the road before night falls. You and Isabel should come visit when you get an opportunity.”
“We’d like that.”
We. But there wasn’t truly a we. They weren’t much of a couple, and that was all his fault.
Patrick left, and Jason sank back into his chair. Maybe his brother was right. He needed to simply give up on his desire to leave his nephew his title. Patrick seemed sincere in not wanting any part of it. Which left producing an heir up to him. Perhaps nothing would come of it.
He knew one thing for certain, he wanted his wife, and consummating their relationship, allowing himself to love her body would right his thoughts and make him forget the ridiculous notion of being in love with her.
He couldn’t wait any longer. He was already hard with the mere thought of losing himself in Isabel. Gingerly he knocked on her bedchamber door.
She opened it and nodded at the sight of him. It was on his tongue to apologize, tell her she was right, he’d been selfish, but none of the words came. Instead, he grabbed her and pulled her to him, slanting his mouth across hers. He kicked the door closed, then spun her around, pressing her back against the wooden plane. To his relief, she didn’t shove him away in disgust but rather wrapped her hands around his neck and kissed him back, matching him passion for passion.
Logically, he thought he should slow down, instead he grabbed her bottom to pull her closer, she pulled up her legs and wrapped them around him. Her hands threaded through his hair, and she pushed her tongue against his. God, he wanted her, and she was his for the taking. The thought alone nearly had him spilling his seed.
He walked them over to her bed and sat on the edge, effectively putting her on his lap. His erection pressed against her, but there were too many layers of clothes between them.
“You don’t know how much I want you, Isabel.”
“Then take me.”
“I fully intend to.” With that he began the arduous task of unbuttoning the back of her gown. He took the opportunity of being close to her throat to nibble at her collarbone, kiss the sensitive pulse at the curve of her neck.
Her hips rocked against his, almost frantically, as if she were seconds from going over the edge. Her desire was intoxicating. He shoved the gown down her shoulders, then unlaced her stays, removed her chemise until she sat astride him, her breasts barely covered. He wanted to lave her breasts and nipples in kisses, but he needed to be inside her soon. He’d have the rest of the night to take things slowly. He lifted her off his lap so that her dress fell to her feet. She stepped out of her pantaloons as he quickly removed his clothing.
She crawled into the bed, then held out her hand to him. Ever patient, ever accepting, ever tantalizing. And she was all his. He’d never again take her for granted. Never again ask her to bear the weight of his burden. He might not ever deserve her affections, but he’d be damned if he denied her anything. Ever again.
He moved his body to hers, not fully putting his weight on her. She shifted her hips forward, rubbing herself against his erection. She moaned low in her throat, a sound so unbearably tempting. How had he ever resisted her? How had he thought he could deny himself all that she offered?
He slipped his hand between them. She was already slick with desire. He lowered his mouth to her breast and suckled, and her back arched up off the bed.
“Please, Jason,” she said.
He would deny her no longer. With one smooth movement, he pushed inside her. Hot, tight, deliciously wet. He squeezed his eyes tightly closed, trying his damnedest to not lose control. Sucking in a breath through his teeth, he narrowed his focus. Pleasure pulsed through him, but he turned his attention to her. She was a virgin, so he remained still until she could adjust to him. She pulled her legs up and around his waist, and he knew she was ready for more.
He shifted his body low so that his pelvic bone met the center of her desire. Then every time he moved inside her, he’d rub against her. Her eyes flickered open, then drifted back closed. His next thrust and she pushed her head into the pillow, her breath coming out in short pants.
She was with him. He wanted them to go over the edge together.
“Isabel, look at me,” he said.
She opened her eyes; her pupils were wide and dark with desire. Then he moved out, almost leaving her body, then plunged forward again. “Stay with me, love.”
Her moans grew louder, more frenzied and then he felt her muscles clenching around him. She cried out his name again and again.
“Jason!”
And on the last one, he let go. She was now his wife.