Pride and Pleasure

“I want you naked,” she breathed, making his cock hard. “I want to touch you everywhere, and your clothing makes that impractical.”



“We cannot have impracticality in our bedroom,” he said, biting back a smile. Setting her down on the edge of the mattress, Jasper stepped back. He attacked the buttons of his waistcoat.



Eliza’s tongue traced the curve of her bottom lip. “Take your time.”



“You like to watch.”



“I like to watch you,” she amended. “You are everything I find beautiful, and sexual, and desirable.”



He had no idea what to say to that, how to tell her what her candor meant to him. He could only slow the process of undressing, maintaining eye contact with her, allowing her to see how much he loved her. When the last stitch was shed, he straightened and waited for her to tell him what to do next. He’d taken what he needed earlier, and she’d given it to him without hesitation. Only the second time in her life that she’d had a man inside her and he’d been too overwrought to show her the gentleness she deserved. Now, it was his turn to give her what she needed.



“I’m overdressed,” she said, toeing off her slippers. Her slim legs dangled off the end of the bed.



“What would you like me to do about that?”



“Undress me. But much more quickly than you bared yourself.”



Jasper set his hands at her waist and helped her off the mattress. He resumed his task of unfastening her buttons, working quickly. The wedding gown was set aside with reverence, but the sheer chemise and pantalettes were left to puddle on the floor. Enamored with her softly freckled skin, he wrapped himself around her, his arms tucked under hers and his knees bent to accommodate her shorter stature. With one hand cupping a breast and the other tangling with the dark red curls between her legs, he owned her passion completely.



She purred with pleasure, her head falling back against his shoulder. “I love your hands on me. They are so big and strong, callused and warm.”



“A tradesman’s hands.” He traced the delicately pink shell of her ear with his tongue.



“The only hands that will ever touch me this way.”



Scissoring his fingers, he parted the lips of her sex, exposing the hood shielding her clitoris. “Will I find you wet?”



She began to pant as he rolled her nipple between his fingers. Her stance widened in invitation for a deeper caress. “Yes…You linger in me from earlier.”



The thought of her drenched in his semen swelled his already heavy erection. He pushed his cock between her thighs, growling at the slickness that coated him.



“Let me,” he coaxed, urging her to fold forward over the edge of the bed.



There was a slight tension in her lithe frame. Then she relaxed and lay facedown, presenting the lush curve of her beautiful buttocks. He cupped them, squeezing their fullness.



Reaching between her legs, he urged her to pull one leg up and onto the mattress, her thigh perpendicular to her body, opening her completely. He cupped her there, too, possessively. “I love you.”



She rested her cheek on the counterpane and closed her eyes. “Say it again.”



He took himself in hand, notching his cockhead into the tiny entrance to her silken cunt. “I love you.”



With a slow roll of his hips, he pushed the fat crown into the fist-tight glove of her. Her fingers dug into the velvet and her low moan stirred his blood.



“My wife,” he breathed, pushing inexorably deeper.



Eliza arched her back like a cat, which caused the tiny little muscles inside her to squeeze him. The pleasure of those rippling embraces, the sensation of being lured deeper into her…A deep groan escaped him. Hunching over her, Jasper worked his cock into her with quick shallow judders, sliding through quivering tissues until he hit the end of her, refusing to risk either of them climaxing until they were completely connected.



Her breath hitched.



“So deep…” she slurred.



He withdrew a few inches, then thrust, going even deeper. She hugged him at the root, clasping his throbbing cock in liquid heat. Catching her by the shoulder, he held her in place and rode her with long, leisurely thrusts. His bollocks smacked against her damp cleft in a steady, erotic rhythm. Eliza whimpered with every weighty tap against her clitoris, her nails leaving visible trails in the counterpane, the curls around her face growing damp with perspiration.



When the pressure to blow grew dangerously high, Jasper would pause at the deepest point of her and grind, whispering soothing words as she climaxed around him. Sweat soaked his hair and matted his chest, a visible sign of the restraint required to remain rock hard and full to bursting to please her.



Time passed, and Jasper lost track of it, as he always did when he was with Eliza. He knew only that she came so many times her fingers no longer had the strength to clutch the counterpane, and the cries she made as the pleasure hit were weak-as-a-kitten mewls.



It was her hoarse-voiced “I love you” that finished him.



With his cheek pressed against her glorious hair and his arms wrapped beneath her, he filled her with hot, wrenching pulses of the lust that sprang from a deeper source. From a well of hope and love inside him he hadn’t known was there until she made him whole.



Chapter 17



Eliza was perusing the morning’s papers at the breakfast table when Vanessa Chilcott appeared. Her stepsister was dressed in the housekeeper’s clothes—a high-neck shirt that was slightly too snug around the breasts and a skirt that was a tad too long—but she carried herself with unassailable dignity.



“Good morning,” Eliza greeted her, before returning to reading the reports of the fire the day prior.



“Good morning, Miss Martin.”



It took a few moments for Eliza to realize the other woman was rooted to one spot. Frowning, she peeked over the top of the page. She gestured toward the console against the wall where plates and covered platters waited. “The food is there. Please help yourself to whatever you like.”



As if all she’d needed was permission, Vanessa nodded and moved to serve herself. When she was finished and settled at the table, she said, “Congratulations on your wedding yesterday.”



Eliza bit her lower lip and set the paper down. “Should I have asked you to attend? I was unsure after the events at the store and the discovery of our…relation to one another, whether I should or not.”



Vanessa blinked. She stared at Eliza in the manner most people did when they comprehended how little she knew about etiquette.



“Good morning, ladies,” Jasper said as he entered the room. His stride was easy and inherently sensual, with a touch of leisure as if time was no concern. “My wife is blessed with an extraordinarily pragmatic nature, Miss Chilcott. She rarely means offense when she observes—or does not observe, as the case may be—certain social mores.”



Nodding, Vanessa watched as Jasper walked the length of the room to where Eliza sat at the far end. There was blatant appreciation in the blonde’s eyes, a knowing understanding of what type of man he was—ruthlessly deliberate and dangerously sexual. Eliza imagined it would be impossible for any red-blooded woman to be immune to him. After all, as oblivious as she’d personally been toward men, she hadn’t failed to want him either.



“I took no offense,” Vanessa assured. “I’m grateful to have had a roof over my head last night.”



Eliza shrugged. “It was the most reasonable course of action to have you stay here. You lost more than I did in the fire.”



Jasper set one hand on the table and the other on the back of Eliza’s chair. Bending, he kissed her temple and whispered, “I had need of you this morning, madam. In the future, you should order a tray brought to our rooms.”



Her breath caught. Jasper had displayed a marked insatiability throughout the night, waking her repeatedly to take her again and again. On her back. Sprawled on her stomach. Arranged on her side. With her heels in the air or her thighs between his. Deep and shallow, hard and soft, pounding possessions and slow, endless glides…His repertoire of sensual delights was vast, and she suspected he’d shown her only a smidgeon of what he was capable of.



As he straightened, she turned her head, impulsively pressing her lips to his. He stiffened in surprise, then gave an encouraging hum, remaining still as she kissed him sweetly. When she withdrew, Jasper’s smile curled her toes. He traced the bridge of her nose with his fingertip, then he stepped away to fetch his own plate.



Bolstered by his presence and verbal support, Eliza took a deep breath and turned her focus to her stepsister. Vanessa’s attention was firmly on her food, her eyes downcast as if to say she couldn’t possibly be aware of the scandalous behavior taking place at the other end of the long room.



Vanessa cleared her throat. “Whether or not it was reasonable to provide lodging to a tenant who lied on her application is debatable, I think. I doubt many would have done so.”



“But you are not simply a tenant,” Eliza pointed out. “You are my stepsister.”



A wry smile twisted Vanessa’s lips. “Which is more of a detriment than an endorsement, is it not?”



Jasper pulled out the chair at the foot of the table, which was directly to Eliza’s right, and sat.



Eliza nodded, seeing no point in being untruthful.



“Unfalteringly candid,” Vanessa said. “My father quite enjoyed that about you, Miss Martin. He said it was freeing. It inspired him to be a better man.”



“I don’t mean to be rude, but he never mentioned you.”



One blond brow rose. “When did you give him the opportunity?”



Eliza opened her mouth, then shut it again.



“Exactly.” Vanessa carefully sliced into her black pudding with her knife. “I don’t blame you. You are astute, and you knew straightaway that he pursued your mother for the fortune left by your father. It’s all true what they say about us Chilcotts.”



Nonplussed, Eliza glanced at Jasper, whose face was austere and gave away none of his thoughts.



“See this?” Vanessa set down her utensils and held out her hand. She pointed to a reddish birthmark that rested over the back of her wrist. “My grandmother once told me you could spot the rotten fruit in our family tree because we all bear this ‘bruise.’”



“I see,” Eliza said.



“What you do not see, however, is that even bruised fruit sometimes has salvageable parts. In my father’s case, it was his heart. He courted your mother for her money; he married her because he loved her.”



Eliza’s hands linked together on the table. “If he’d truly cared for her, he would have been a positive influence.”



“That sounds reasonable,” Vanessa agreed. “But love is not reasonable. Love is wanting to see the other person as happy as possible as often as possible. Leastwise that’s how my father viewed love. As you know, it wasn’t an easy task keeping Lady Georgina happy. If he cared for her not at all, he could have had her committed. Or he could have taken her to the country and left her there. Or the Continent. Perhaps she might have taken a liking to America—”



“I understand what you’re saying.”



Jasper reached over and set one hand atop both of Eliza’s.



“I think you should know,” Vanessa continued, “you were a positive influence on my father, who in turn extolled the virtues of respectable living to me. He’s the one who convinced me I could make an honest living.”



Eliza was at a loss as to how to handle the conversation. What could she say that wasn’t already known to Vanessa? “I’m sorry my difficulties with Mr. Reynolds spilled over into your life.”



Vanessa shrugged. “I blame my surname for Mr. Reynolds’s actions against my shop, not you. I believe he rented the space to me with the intention of extorting from me whatever money he thought I intended to extort from you. When I caught him igniting the paraffin, he said, ‘Don’t worry. I can still ensure you see a profit from your plans.’ That was when I hit him with the poker.”



“Dear God.”



“I must have seemed like the kindest of fates to him, falling so neatly into his lap through no effort on his part. A Chilcott to use as another means to garner more of your money.”



Jasper looked at Eliza. “By distracting you with the fire and removing me with a bullet, Reynolds likely hoped his services would seem even more valuable. In the process, he would have discredited Mr. Bell and cast suspicion on Montague, ensuring those avenues no longer seemed viable to you.”



“He had no way of knowing,” she murmured, loving him all the more, “that you would forsake a chance to thwart Montague in favor of me.”



He squeezed her hand.



Eliza glanced at Vanessa. “What will you do now?”



“I’ve spent much of my life making decisions based upon my surname. Even when taking a new direction, I did so by comparing it to the known alternative, which is still allowing the name to define me. No more. The store was a lovely dream, but I’m not certain it was my dream.”



“I should like for you to stay here in the interim,” Eliza said, startling herself.



“Another Martin inviting another Chilcott to live under her roof?”



“The parallel did not even occur to me.” She’d made the decision impulsively and from the heart.



Jasper offered an encouraging smile.



“When you’re finished,” she said to him, “I would like to speak to you privately.”



“Of course.”



Robbins appeared in the open dining room doorway, bearing a calling card. He crossed the length of the room and set the silver salver in the space between Eliza and Jasper. “The Earl of Westfield has come to call.”



“Send him in,” Jasper said.



A moment later, Westfield entered the room, looking windblown and dashing for it.