“M-married?” The rosy color fled from the woman’s cheeks and her posture went rigid. Her gaze flicked over Jocelyn, and she gave a disdainful sniff. “You’re married? To her?”
“Jocelyn, these are my neighbors Hannah and Peregrine Richards.”
Jocelyn dipped her head in greeting, her face stiff due to the open slight. “I’m pleased to meet you.” She could do all that was polite, even if her new neighbor was lacking in manners.
“Your wife is scarcely cold in her grave,” Hannah cried. “The period of mourning isn’t over and you married her?”
“Ursula died a mere eight months ago.” Peregrine hid his surprise better than his sister, but his words contained pain.
“I don’t owe you explanations.” Mr. Sherbourne’s voice held a hint of cruelty, his arm a forceful band around Jocelyn’s waist.
Jocelyn froze, neither understanding nor wanting to draw further attention.
“It’s unconscionable.” Hannah fisted her hands together, strain evident in her voice. “People are going to gossip and spread more rumors.”
Rumors? What rumors? Jocelyn gnawed her bottom lip, unprepared for the seething undercurrents swirling around the trio.
“Let them,” Mr. Sherbourne said with unconcern. “Mrs. Green is preparing refreshments.”
“We’re not staying.” Peregrine grasped his sister’s arm and propelled her from the garden without a farewell.
Jocelyn stared after brother and sister, watching until they passed a leafy bush covered with yellow flowers and disappeared from sight. “They seem a little upset,” she said finally.
“Come, I’ll show you the rest of the garden before we retire to the terrace.” He led her down a gravel path, past several climbing rose bushes, resplendent with white flowers. Bees buzzed industriously, flitting from bloom to bloom. Some of the tension lifted from Jocelyn. It was only natural people were surprised at their marriage. But eight months? Oh, dear. What a pickle.
“The stables are down this path. It’s a three-minute walk.” He gestured in the direction her new neighbors had departed and strolled farther into the gardens. “We grow fruit and vegetables in the walled garden near the kitchen.” Her husband pointed to the right. “See the hedging over there?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a maze my father designed when I was a child. My older brother and I used to enjoy scaring our friends whenever our parents held house parties. We’d don ghostly costumes and jump out at visitors.”
“You didn’t!”
Humor crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I assure you we did. Dartmoor abounds with tales of ghosts and witches, and we shamelessly used the legends to strike trepidation into our guests.”
“Didn’t your parents censure you? Your father?”
“Who do you think gave us the idea?” Pure wickedness curled across her husband’s mouth as he unleashed one of his potent smiles. Her knees weakened under the impact, and she would have staggered if he hadn’t held her arm. “Watch the path. It’s a little uneven in places.”
Heat crept into her cheeks. “Who tends the gardens?” she asked hurriedly, seeking distraction from the surge of awareness streaking through her veins. “My mother will enjoy them.”
“I employ a head gardener and two under-gardeners to keep them in order.” He directed her along another concealed path. The gravel crunched under their feet as they walked beneath an archway formed by trees.
Jocelyn cocked her head at a new sound. “Is that water I hear?”
“Yes, there’s a stream that runs through the bottom of the garden. It flows into a river not far from here.” His good humor faded, his mouth taking on a tight set.
Something else he didn’t wish to discuss. Melburn hadn’t mentioned his cousin was a moody man. “Do you fish?”
“On occasion,” he said.
“Can we walk through the maze?”
“Mrs. Green is most likely waiting on us. We can explore the maze another time. It’s a tricky one and most people get helplessly lost.”
“But not you?”
“No.”
Jocelyn noticed a hovering man who appeared to require a word with her husband. “Am I keeping you from your work?”
“I wanted to greet you, but I do need to help the men with the sheep.”
Jocelyn understood obligations. “If you’ll direct me to the terrace, I’ll take refreshments with my mother and Tilly. You go and complete your chores, and we can talk later this evening.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. I’ll take the opportunity to speak with Mrs. Green.”
“Thank you, Jocelyn.” Mr. Sherbourne drew her closer, approval glinting in his brown eyes now. “You’re very obliging. I appreciate your consideration.”
“Think nothing of it.”
“Follow this path. It will take you to the maze. Once there, turn to the left, and that will lead you to the terrace. I’ll see you later.” He lowered his head and brushed his lips over hers, his eyes dark when he lifted his head. “So sweet. Until tonight.” With ground-eating steps, he strode away.
She watched him disappear from sight. Like the maze, he was a mystery, one she desperately wanted to solve. Her mind skipped ahead to the coming night and longing fueled a burst of pleasurable tingles and the urge to fan her face. Although nerves had come to the fore, a part of her was curious, and she looked forward to their marriage bed.
Her footsteps took her in the direction Mr. Sherbourne had indicated. Soon she came upon the maze, the tall hedges standing several inches higher than her head. What fun! With more time, she’d have ventured inside to challenge herself with the puzzle. The scents of more plants assailed her when she turned left—lavender and honeysuckle plus others she didn’t recognize.
A whisper of sound behind her had her turning with an expectant welcome. “Good day.”
There was no one there. Frowning, she scanned the vicinity. Nothing out of the ordinary struck her, yet the sense of an observer persisted. Finally, she shrugged and continued along the gravel path to the terrace. A maid and the housekeeper arrived at the same time. They placed a pristine white cloth over a round table and set out refreshments. A footman carried two chairs, arranging them around the table with two others.
“I’ve timed my arrival perfectly,” she said to Mrs. Green. “I wonder if you could send a maid to ask my mother and Tilly if they’d like to join me.”
“Of course, Mrs. Sherbourne.”
“Mrs. Green, I’d like a meeting tomorrow morning, say around ten? I’d like to discuss a few household matters with you.”
Mrs. Green pressed her lips together and drew herself up. “I hope you’ll find everything to your satisfaction.”
“Merrivale looks beautiful.” The last thing Jocelyn wanted to do was tread on toes and create tension. “I’d like to discuss making changes to the furnishings in my chamber. I’m afraid the decoration is not to my taste.”
“The first Mrs. Sherbourne had no concerns regarding the way I ran the household.”
Jocelyn fought a grimace. She’d displeased the housekeeper, and on the first day too. “Perhaps Woodley could attend our meeting as well since I shall require some strong men to shift furniture.”
“Yes, Mrs. Sherbourne. Will that be all?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Green.” She watched the housekeeper march away, her back beneath her somber gown as rigid as a washing board. A pained sigh whispered from Jocelyn. Already, her presence at Merrivale had upset two of their neighbors and the housekeeper. Her husband was the only person who seemed genuinely happy with her arrival.
Melburn must have known the full details of Leo’s first marriage, yet he hadn’t mentioned a thing. Both men had led her to believe Leo’s wife had died several years ago. How strange.
Her mother burst onto the terrace, followed by Tilly. Their appearance dragged Jocelyn from her marriage worries.
“Jocelyn, I love the gardens,” her mother said, dancing around the table and chairs like a child anticipating a treat. “I saw them from my window. And Woodley said there’s a river with a waterhole suitable for swimming. Oh, I’m going to be so happy here.”
“I’m sure we could have an excursion to the river,” Jocelyn said, pleased with her mother’s enthusiasm. “Do you like your room?”
“Oh, yes. I have my own parlor.” Her mother plied her fan as she excitedly described the décor, the views of the garden from her rooms and the profusion of beautiful ivy clinging to the exterior brick walls. “I must explore the gardens immediately.”
Jocelyn laughed at her exuberance. “We can walk after our repast. I find myself quite hungry after our journey.” She busied herself with pouring. “Tilly, cease your hovering. Do sit and take tea with us.”
Tilly sat on the edge of a chair and sent Jocelyn an unhappy glance. She started to speak, glanced at Elizabeth and closed her mouth. Jocelyn arched her brows, and Tilly nodded. She desired a private conversation.
“Mother, do you think you’ll sleep well tonight?” Jocelyn asked.
“I’m sure I will,” her mother said agreeably, swishing her fan. “Where is your hat, Jocelyn?”
Jocelyn pulled a face as she passed delicate porcelain cups to her mother and Tilly. “Mr. Sherbourne was in rather a hurry, and I didn’t have time to collect one. Will you have a raspberry tart?”
The rest of the afternoon passed agreeably. The trio finished their refreshments and strolled through the gardens, her mother darting from one discovery to the next.
“Is something wrong, Tilly?”
“Your mother is exuberant since our arrival. I worry she’ll have one of her episodes soon.”
“She does seem rather euphoric this afternoon. Do you think we should administer a sleeping draft when she retires?”
“That’s a good idea. You won’t want interruptions tonight now that you’re reunited with Mr. Sherbourne,” Tilly said.
“No.” They turned a corner and came across her mother speaking with an elderly gentleman—a gardener, Jocelyn presumed. Elizabeth’s hands flashed as she indicated a plant in front of them. Her mother often displayed periods of clarity like this. In the past, Jocelyn had hoped it meant she was improving. Now she knew better. Soon her mother would return to her confused state where she screamed at imaginary creatures and spies who lurked in the night. Tears stung Jocelyn’s eyes. She must treasure these moments whenever they arrived.
The gardener touched his hand to his cap and retreated when she and Tilly approached.
“Are the household staff welcoming?” Jocelyn asked.
Tilly wrinkled her nose. “From Woodley’s experience, they are slow to warm to newcomers. They’re a suspicious lot. It will take time for us to find our place here.” She lowered her voice. “Then there’s the business of the parlor maid from Hartscombe. She went missing over three months ago and yet they found her body displayed in the middle of the maze here at Merrivale.”
“Body?” Jocelyn said sharply. “She was murdered?”
“Aye, I understand Mr. Sherbourne found her right in the middle of the labyrinth, not long after he arrived back from London.”
“That’s terrible.” Jocelyn recalled the faces of the servants when they’d greeted her earlier, the unease she’d credited to her arrival. “Have they discovered the culprit?” It was odd Leo hadn’t mentioned the murder. He’d said the maze was a challenging one—Jocelyn broke off, her skin prickling with apprehension. The culprit was familiar with the puzzle.
“No,” Tilly said. “I intend to lock the doors and windows firmly against intruders each night. I shan’t take any risks.”
Suddenly the garden didn’t seem welcoming or charming.
“I’m sure everyone is taking precautions already. The poor girl.” Tearing her mind from the unfortunate maid and the disquiet that had seized her, Jocelyn said, “Please let me know if you have problems with the staff. Don’t try to deal with them yourself.”
“I will.” Sincerity blazed on Tilly’s wrinkled face. “But I’m sure things will fall into place as they’re meant to.”
Jocelyn smiled absently while her mind danced around the strange facts she’d uncovered since arriving at Merrivale. One detail wouldn’t let go. How exactly had Leo’s first wife died?
After spending a delightful hour exploring the extensive gardens, they made their way back inside. Tilly and Elizabeth decided to retire to her mother’s suite, leaving Jocelyn to her own devices.
Cassandra. Despite Mr. Sherbourne promising she’d see her new daughter the following day, she was dying to get a glimpse of her. All these years she’d assumed she’d never have a child, and now excitement put a spring in her step.
Someone to love.
Recalling her husband’s words about the nursery’s location, Jocelyn headed in the same direction as her mother and Tilly. Tapestries lined the walls of the passage. She paused to study one showing the Trojan wooden horse, the colors vibrant and eye-catching, the stitching abrasive beneath her fingertips.
“Did you want something, Mrs. Sherbourne?”
Jocelyn whirled around, her heart banging against her ribs. She pressed her right hand to her breast. “Oh, you startled me.”
A pretty dark-haired maid stood behind her, a polishing cloth and a feather duster in her hands. “I’m sorry. I wondered if you were lost.”
Jocelyn shook her head. The maid’s accent was broad, but not as thick as some of the other staff she’d met earlier. “Edna, isn’t it? I’m looking for the nursery.”
“It’s Ella, Mrs. Sherbourne.” Her manner was hesitant as if she feared Jocelyn might sprout a new personality complete with horns. Ella swallowed rapidly. “The nursery is at the end of the passage.”
“Thank you, Ella.”
Ella nodded, risking a glance at her. “Was there anything else, Mrs. Sherbourne?”
“No that’s all.” Jocelyn maintained her pleasant manner, despite the curiosity nudging her to ask questions. Gossiping with servants wasn’t something a lady of the manor should do.
Ella scuttled away, leaving Jocelyn frowning after her thoughtfully. When the maid disappeared Jocelyn continued to the end of the passage. Aware of passing time, she opened the door and came to an abrupt halt.
The woman sitting by the window was stunning, the late afternoon sun falling on her face and highlighting her dark, exotic beauty. Her deep brown eyes were almond in shape and fringed with long lashes, and they widened fractionally at Jocelyn’s arrival. A pale face with an olive cast held a wide, sensual mouth. Her faint smile lifted the corners of her lips in mockery and more. This was a smile of smugness.
She set aside her needlework and stood, revealing her crimson overskirt with matching red and white petticoats, spread wide with side hoops. A white tucker protected her modesty, yet did nothing to detract from her buxom curves. She was a woman who’d attract men, and her manner hinted she’d already made the comparisons between the two of them and found Jocelyn lacking. “Did you want something?”
Jocelyn roused from her stupor, a flash of heat storming her cheeks. “I came to see my stepdaughter.”
“She isn’t well. I’m afraid I can’t permit you to wake her.” Confidence filled the woman’s voice, digging at Jocelyn’s composure.
“Are you Cassandra’s nursemaid?” For once, Jocelyn struggled with poise. She sucked in a deep breath and exhaled before stepping into the room. A taunting smirk drew her up short.
“Yes, I’m Arabella, Cassandra’s nurse and a distant cousin of Leo’s.”
Nonplussed by the disclosure, Jocelyn reached for the polite society manners drummed into her by her mother from a young age. She ignored the sly insolence and quietly exerted her authority. “I’ll peek in on Cassandra. Is she through here?”
The stack of wooden blocks and a discarded doll told Jocelyn this part of the nursery suite was where Cassandra played. A doll’s house sat in a place of prominence, the design appearing much like Merrivale Manor. Jocelyn noted a doorway and noiselessly opened it. A small mound in the middle of the narrow bed drew her attention. She stepped nearer, ignoring the disapproving presence at her back.
Warm blankets swathed the child, and only the top of her blonde head showed above the covers. Each of her breaths whistled between parted lips, and every now and then, a cute snore erupted. Her cheeks appeared flushed, but when Jocelyn touched her fingers to the child’s forehead, she found it warm rather than hot. Sleep would aid her recovery. She was a very pretty child, taking after her mother, or at least Jocelyn assumed her mother bore the same coloring as the siblings she’d met a few hours earlier. After smoothing the covers, Jocelyn retreated to the outer room.
Arabella confronted her, a scowl marring her dark beauty. “You have no right to barge in here. Leo has given me full authority.”
The way the woman used Leo’s name gave Jocelyn pause. Some of what she was thinking must have shown on her face because triumph glittered in the woman’s brown eyes. Arabella let her gaze travel over Jocelyn. Jocelyn forced herself to remain at ease while inside every one of the hurtful remarks from the past emerged. It was true she couldn’t lay claim to beauty but surely Mr. Sherbourne…no, he’d hardly install a mistress as a nurse for his daughter.
“I’ll let you get back to your needlework,” Jocelyn said in a stiff voice.
She left the nursery in a dignified retreat, unpalatable thoughts keeping her company while she walked down the passage. Hardly knowing how she got there, she entered her chamber and blinked.
The pinkness of the room didn’t improve on second viewing. Furniture and knickknacks cluttered the space, making it appear small in comparison to Leo’s chamber. The wallpaper coordinated with the furnishings, a deep blush pink that was almost red.
Jocelyn spun in a slow circle, barely suppressing her wince. Her gaze settled. Right, the first things to go would be those grinning cherubs. The plump statues bore salacious expressions, entirely too knowing for her liking.
Just like Arabella. She forced the notion away, determined to ignore the doubts the other woman had placed in her mind. She’d start clearing some of the clutter. When Mr. Sherbourne came to her room, and he would despite Arabella’s silent insinuations, Jocelyn didn’t want anyone or anything competing for his attention.
She plucked a plaster cherub off a table and placed it on the floor. Soon she had large pile of rejected items.
A brief tap announced the arrival of a maid. “Mrs. Sherbourne, my name is Susan. Mrs. Green said I’m to help you tonight, and if you like me, I’ll become your maid on a permanent basis. I unpacked for you earlier.” Breathless from her rushed words, Susan glanced at her feet.
She was on the plump side, wisps of frizzy dark hair escaping confinement beneath her white cap. However, her blue eyes shone with earnestness, making Jocelyn want to give her a chance.
“That sounds most satisfactory.” Jocelyn approved of Mrs. Green’s efficiency.
Susan burst into action, lighting several candles. The flicker of flames dispelled the gloom creeping into the corners now that the large trees around the manor hid the sun. The light brought a plaster angel into focus, one bearing a sly smirk. A vision of Arabella intruded, and Jocelyn scowled. Bother the woman.
“Which gown would you like to wear tonight?” A note of nervousness bled from Susan’s voice, betraying her desperate desire to please.
“The green, I think.” Jocelyn unbuttoned her gloves and peeled them off before starting to unfasten her current gown. Susan disappeared to retrieve the requested clothing. It was one of Jocelyn’s favorites and never failed to boost her confidence. She and Mr. Sherbourne would dine in private tonight, and her stomach churned with both disquiet and hope. But now she clenched her jaw, determination heaping on top of nerves. She’d made a commitment and wanted to do a good job in all ways. She mightn’t be a virgin, but tonight, the bedding part of marriage brought more trepidation than her first time.
Jocelyn freshened up with water Susan poured from an urn into a china bowl. A tremor slipped down her spine. The cold water had nothing to do with her burst of unease. It was the dread of losing her new husband to a beautiful mistress. No! She couldn’t afford to let Arabella distract her from the important things—the chance of a new, reputable life.
Her mind in turmoil, Jocelyn reached for her scarlet stockings. She rolling them up her calves and securing them with garters just above her knees.
Once Jocelyn donned a clean chemise, Susan helped her with her stays, petticoats and gown. Her maid pulled the fabric up her arms and secured several buttons and tapes. She fussed with the skirts and twitched them into submission. With one final flick of her wrist, she nodded approval.
“How would you like your hair, Mrs. Sherbourne?”
“Something simple please. I think tidying my current style will suffice.”
Susan bustled around the room, her initial tremors subsiding into quiet competence.
“Thank you, Susan. I won’t need you again tonight, but tell Mrs. Green I’d like you to continue as my maid.”
Susan’s cheeks pinked with pleasure. “Will you require refreshments in the morning?”
“A dish of tea please.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Sherbourne.” Susan dropped a brief curtsey and left her alone.
A knock sounded on the connecting door of her chamber, and seconds later, Mr. Sherbourne stepped inside.
“Are you ready to go down?”
“I’m afraid I’m running a little late. My mother and I explored the gardens this afternoon, and when I came upstairs, I was pondering how to change this room to something more my taste. Time ran away with me.” She stood and slipped her feet into shoes. Why hadn’t she mentioned meeting Arabella?
“I have something for you—a wedding gift.” Mr. Sherbourne pulled a sparkling necklace from his pocket. Emeralds and diamonds caught the flickering light from the candles.
“You didn’t need to get me a gift, but thank you,” Jocelyn said with pleasure. “I adore emeralds. Could you fasten it for me? I’ll wear it tonight.”
“This necklace belonged to my mother.” Her husband closed the distance between them and placed the necklace around her neck. “She brought it with her from Spain.”
“Your mother came from Spain?”
“Yes, my father met her during his travels on the continent and brought her home as his bride.”
“Oh. I met Arabella earlier. Is she from Spain too?”
Mr. Sherbourne shrugged. “A distant cousin.”
How distant? The stones chilled her skin. Had his first wife worn this necklace? And did Arabella have designs on the jewels and her husband too? A frisson of alarm set her mind awhirl, but the warmth of his callused hands at her neck countered some of her trepidation. A tremor of an entirely different kind swept her, heating every inch of her skin. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she breathed in his bay rum scent, her pulse racing with anticipation. The urge to reach for him, to slide her palms over his cheeks and draw his face down for a kiss teased at her. Aware she needed to act like a wife instead of reminding Mr. Sherbourne of her seductive mistress days, she curled her fingers into her palms until the inclination faded.
“There you go.” He stepped away from her, seemingly unaffected by their proximity.
“Thank you.” Jocelyn surveyed the necklace in her looking glass. “It’s beautiful.”
“I thought the necklace would suit you.” Satisfaction glowed in his stern features, telling her she’d pleased him. “There are earrings to match. I’ll give them to you later. Shall we?” He offered his arm to escort her to dinner.
The cook excelled herself with a delicious meal of oyster soup, roast venison, lamb stuffed with flour and raisins, and salmon. Jocelyn tried a little of everything, including the vegetables of chopped spinach and asparagus. Over their food and several glasses of red wine, they talked about the manor and Mr. Sherbourne’s normal routine. They ended their meal with a fruit pie served with custard.
“Tell me about the village,” Jocelyn said.
“It’s small, but adequate for our needs. There’s a baker, a blacksmith, a draper, a chandler and a coaching inn.”
“And a parish church?”
His grin dazzled her. “Yes, we have one of those. We go to Tavistock on market day for some of our supplies, but I try to support those in the village.”
“I look forward to a visit. I hear Tavistock is a decent size town.” Her needs were few, but her mother would enjoy purchasing fabrics and sewing supplies. “What about neighbors?”
“You’ve met Hannah and Peregrine,” Mr. Sherbourne said. “I grew up with them. Viscount Hartscombe, their father, operates several copper mines and owns much of the land around here, although he and the viscountess are often traveling due to their interest in ancient civilizations. You’ll probably meet Vicar Allenby and his wife, Mrs. Allenby, very soon. There’s a retired army man called Captain Cartwright. He’s the elected parish constable. Then there’s Duxton, the home of Sir James Harvey. When I was a child, my parents used to attend social gatherings in Tavistock. I haven’t participated as much as my parents did when they were alive.”
Something in his clipped tone suggested he was thinking about more, but Jocelyn bit her tongue to still her questions. Patience. The last thing she wanted was to start off their marriage with a disagreement.
“I can’t wait to explore your estate and the village.”
“Always tell someone where you’re going.” A clipped demand to obey. “Take one of the footmen with you. They will make sure you don’t get lost or wander off the path should a mist drift onto the moor.”
Jocelyn’s brows rose at his abrupt order. “Yes, of course.” Some of her surprise must have shown.
“The moor is a hazardous place and the weather can change on a whim.”
“Dangerous?”
“There are hidden bogs. It’s easy to wander off the path if a fog descends without warning. People have disappeared and never been seen again. A child wandered off only three months ago. Despite our search, no one has seen him since.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Jocelyn suppressed a shiver with difficulty. Why wasn’t he mentioning the murder? Perhaps the servants had exaggerated. “I’ll make sure Mother and Tilly take an escort if they go in search of wild herbs.”
“They can take the carriage to the village if they wish to make a visit.”
“I’ll let them know.” She glanced up from her fruit pie to find Mr. Sherbourne studying her mouth. His eyes rose, darkening with desire when their gazes met, and she fought an impulse to lick her lips.
“Would you like to take a turn around the garden? We could wander along the banks of the stream. The path is smooth and the moon is almost full. We won’t require a lantern.”
“I’d like that very much.” Jocelyn pushed aside her plate, indicating readiness even though disappointment followed his suggestion. She’d thought he might whisk her off to his chamber. Masking her emotions with the ease of long practice, she smiled at her husband. It was odd interacting with him. She was acutely aware of him physically, yet he was essentially a stranger.
He stood and helped her rise, attentive and gentlemanly. He was like his cousin in that respect, although she’d never experienced this level of longing with Melburn. Mr. Sherbourne led her from the dining room. They exited the manor via the double doors that opened out onto a terrace.
Full darkness had fallen while they dined and, despite the moonlight, shadows loomed in parts of the garden. To their right, a loud rustling commenced, and Jocelyn jumped, moving closer to her husband in a silent request for reassurance.
“It’s only a night creature—a hedgehog or similar.”
“Whatever it is, I hope the creature doesn’t decide to scuttle over my feet. The outdoors appears very different at night.” Tree branches stretched out like naked limbs, leaves rustled and other mysterious sounds, scratches and creaks, made Jocelyn doubt she’d want to wander alone after dusk.
“This way,” Mr. Sherbourne said, leading her confidently down the steps into the night.
Away from the house, it was easier to see the stars studding the black sky and the moon hanging overhead, huge and bright. The scent of roses and a hint of lavender filled the air, mixing with her husband’s bay rum. Somewhere in front of them, a night bird called a sharp warning. She started and Mr. Sherbourne laughed.
“Just a bird,” he said.
“There aren’t any ghosts hanging around the manor?” Despite the lovely evening and his presence, a preternatural nippiness kept her glancing over her shoulder.
“None that I know of,” he said. “But the servants will tell you of ghosts and spirits wandering the moors. Witches and goblins and even the odd dragon.”
“Now you’re trying to scare me.”
A rusty chuckle came from him. “I was aiming for romantic. Don’t most women enjoy a romantic tryst with their husbands?”
“Yes.” Jocelyn sensed he was trying to put her at ease. He wanted her happy in their marriage. The knowledge soothed her dread, and she pressed closer, her reservations about Arabella fading under his attentions. “I’ve heard it said a kiss adds to the romance.”
He stopped abruptly and turned to face her. Shadows screened his face, making her guess at his expression. Her pulse beat a little faster. He cupped her face, and lowered his head until his breath warmed her lips.
“Mr. Sherbourne.” She laced her hands behind his neck and rose on tiptoe to reduce the inches separating them. Their lips met, tentatively, then with decadent warmth. Heat and sensation darted along her veins, and she pressed against his chest, straining to move as close as possible. Her breasts brushed his vest, shooting awareness, yearning through her body. Proof. This area of their marriage wouldn’t present problems, despite the contrasting unease fluttering through her body.
“Leo,” he said and trailed a finger down her cheek. Then he tugged lightly on a red curl that lay against her collarbone—a tender gesture that rocked her to her toes. “Come, let us walk off our dinner.”
By common consent, they ambled along the path hand-in-hand, the silence companionable, thoughts of ghosts fading far from her mind.
“I peeked in on Cassandra earlier. She’s beautiful.”
“She can be a bit of a handful, at least when she is feeling well.”
“We’ll get along fine,” Jocelyn said. “You don’t need to worry about your daughter. I will care for her as if she’s my own.”
“Thank you.” Leo wanted to place his faith in her words but intended to reserve judgment. Time would tell. At least Jocelyn’s presence would stop Hannah’s constant attention. His new wife brought hope to Merrivale Manor, something he hadn’t felt for a long time. He shot her a quick glance. Lust too. The instant he’d stepped into her chamber tonight, he’d wanted to strip off her green gown and explore her luscious body. He’d badly wanted to discover if freckles, like the ones on her face, covered other parts of her torso. Even now, he fought the urge to drag her to a private spot, to ravish her until her beautiful blue eyes darkened with passion.
The waiting since their nuptials had been difficult, yet he didn’t regret the lost opportunity. She deserved time to become used to him. Her light floral scent teased him, and he sent her a grin. “I’m having trouble keeping my hands off you.”
“Oh.” She paused, the subdued lighting not hiding her expressive face. Her lips curved upward. “Good.”
A bark of laughter escaped him, and he hugged her, enjoying the way she relaxed in his embrace. “Not many women would react that way.”
“Which is why men seek out mistresses, I presume. I’d much rather you wanted me than another woman.”
“I don’t have a mistress.” Melburn had mentioned her no-nonsense nature. Leo found her practicality intriguing, and when he compared her with Ursula—
He broke off the thought abruptly, angry at himself for letting his first wife soil what should be a special evening. “I’ve no intention of taking another woman to my bed.”
“Other men do it.”
“My first wife took many lovers during the course of our marriage. I disliked it and won’t accept disloyalty of that nature in you or myself.” Leo resumed their walk, requiring motion to rid himself of painful memories and betrayal.
“I’m sorry.”
“I want you to feel free to make changes in the manor. I believe there is more furniture in the attic. Mrs. Green will know.” The shift of subject wasn’t exactly adroit, but recollections of Ursula brought fury and regret for allowing his heart—lust—to rule his mind. One mistake and he was still paying. He wouldn’t make the same errors with this marriage.
Jocelyn nodded with enthusiasm, dragging his focus back to the present. “I thought I’d give the rooms themes. What do you think of cherubs for the main reception room? Maybe rename it the Greek room.”
“Cherubs?” Leo barely restrained his shudder of horror. The ones Ursula had placed in her chamber gave him nightmares. “Ah, if that’s what you’d like.”
Her throaty chuckle brought him to a halt. “I wish I could see your face more clearly. Your voice…” She trailed off, laughing without restraint.
Leo’s brows rose, and he found himself smiling at the joyful sound. “I can see I’ll have to watch you.”
“Yes, Leo.”
With a lighter heart, he guided her past the maze.
She glanced at the opening between the hedges. “I heard there was a murder.”
“Yes.” Damn, he should’ve guessed the staff would gossip.
“I thought the maze was difficult to navigate?”
“It is. I’d rather not talk about murder. Not tonight.” The challenge of the labyrinth pointed the finger squarely at him. The local authorities had already mentioned this fact. He’d have to be careful or he’d find himself implicated again.
She heeded his strong suggestion, and they strolled in silence, the bubble of the stream and the croak of a frog providing background music. Leo guided her along the loop path and soon they found themselves back on the terrace. “I find myself longing for privacy.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve half a mind to spank you, just to draw a line, you understand. I can’t have you teasing me about cherubs.”
“No, Leo.”
“No, you’re agreeing or no to spanking?” Damn, he found he liked the coquette in her manner. A spear of lust struck his loins. He wanted her naked, under him, over him. He cast her a considering glance while wondering if she’d take his cock in her mouth.
“I’ve heard rumors of men and women who enjoy giving and receiving a spanking.” Moonlight highlighted the mischief dancing in her eyes.
“And what conclusions have you drawn regarding the reports?”
“I think I’d like you touching my bottom.” A tiny smile played on her lips, impish in nature and one he found intriguing.
The more he came to know this woman the better he liked her. It meant he could let his guard down and simply enjoy the evening instead of feeling as if he’d wandered into a Dartmoor quagmire. His strides lengthened, his pace quickening until she was trotting at his side.
“Leo! Could you slow down?” Her breath came in rushed pants, her chest rising and falling rapidly, drawing attention to the plump curves of her breasts and a cinnamon freckle that sat a scant distance above the fabric of her bodice. “You don’t want to fatigue me this early in the night.”
Leo ripped his gaze off the freckle, and with a chuckle, slowed to scoop her into his arms. Jocelyn let out a squeak of surprise and clutched his shoulders. “This way is faster.”
“Why did you suggest a walk, if you were eager for privacy?”
“I didn’t wish to appear uncouth.” Honesty from him, once again. Hell might freeze over.
“I’m a good judge of character. It’s a skill I had to learn to survive.” She stroked his cheek, a gesture of tenderness. “Besides, I wouldn’t travel all the way to Dartmoor if I feared you.”
“I’m glad you’re here.” Another truth. Already Jocelyn’s presence had lightened the tension wrapped around the manor. Cassie would love her, as long as Hannah didn’t try to interfere. Leo set Jocelyn down to close the terrace doors before sweeping her off her feet again and hurrying up the stairs to his chamber. He shouldered the door open and shoved it shut once he’d entered.
A maid had already turned down the bed and lit several candles. He glanced down at Jocelyn and couldn’t hold back his amusement at her impish grin and pink cheeks. The candlelight illuminated her hair, making it glow like fire.
“I like it when you smile.” She traced his lips with her fingertips. “You should do it more often.”
“There hasn’t been much happiness about recently.” Damn, that wasn’t what he wanted to say. Her honesty was having a bad effect on him.
But instead of pursuing the opening he’d given her, she nodded. “Are you going to put me down?”
“I suppose I must.” Her enticing scent made him think of sunshine and lazy summer days. And that single freckle—it was sending him toward madness. He let her slide down his body, his cock reacting in a predictable manner given the friction of clothes and supple limbs. God, he wanted her. He’d desired her from the moment he’d seen her in London. She wasn’t beautiful but her glorious red hair and sparkling blue eyes were mesmerizing. She’d charmed Melburn and hearing his cousin talk about her had raised both his curiosity and a sense of longing. A woman who garnered his cousin’s loyalty was someone he’d wanted to meet. “Do you know what I’d like?”
She tilted her head to one side and bestowed him with a mysterious feminine smile. For once the sight didn’t send alarm shivering through him. “Should I disrobe?”
“You read my mind.” Leo kicked off his black shoes and shrugged out of his jacket. With deft fingers, he unbuttoned his vest and set that aside too. He tugged his shirt from his breeches, dispensed with it and settled on his bed. His gaze fastened on his new wife, who’d watched him the entire time. “I’m ready now.”
“You’ll need to help me with my buttons.”
Hell, in his hurry he’d forgotten the difficulty of women’s attire. “Come closer.”
Obvious humor lit her face, and she glided toward him, all feminine elegance and subtle flirtation. A confident woman. And so far, she seemed to have integrity. His former wife had never understood there were times when honesty achieved more than falsehoods.
Irritation seared him then, and he forced his mind to Jocelyn. She flirted with her eyes, the sinuous sway of her body. Slowly, she lifted her hands, the graceful rise snaring his attention. She plucked a jeweled comb from her hair and started on the concealed pins. Mesmerized, he watched their removal. Then his gaze met hers and held, the heavy pulsation of sensual awareness humming between them. Jocelyn removed the final one and down the heavy mass toppled.
His breath caught at the sight. Long fiery locks danced around her shoulders and halfway down her back when she moved closer to his four-poster bed. His hands clenched as he imagined winding the curls around his fingers. They’d feel silky to his touch, and if she knelt in front of him, took his shaft into her mouth…
A shudder racked his frame, his mind shaping the scenario, his hands gripping her hair, controlling her movement while she sucked his cock. Suddenly his breeches were far too tight. He cleared his throat without taking his attention off her. She sashayed up to him and angled her back for him to unfasten her gown. To his chagrin, tremors shook his hand when he reached to deal with her buttons. He tightened it to a fist and, this time, it held steady when he unclenched his fingers.
Soon the silk gaped away from her body. Her eyes danced with a provocative note as she glanced over her shoulder.
He drew a sharp breath. His new wife was a bloody witch, captivating him with a glance. “Do you intend to tease me all night?”
“No, it would be difficult not to taunt myself at the same time.”
“A double-edge sword.”
“Exactly.” She beamed at him, making him puff up like an innocent receiving praise, except tonight, he sure as hell didn’t feel childlike. To his relief, she stepped away and let the fabric slide over her hips to puddle at her feet. She plucked the green silk from the floor and draped the gown over the back of a chair.
Leo couldn’t take his eyes off her. Beautiful. Graceful. Honest. Melburn hadn’t mentioned her teasing nature, but Leo liked her harmless impudence.
Jocelyn removed frothy petticoats, stepping closer when she required assistance with the lacing of her stays. In a trice, the task was complete and all she wore was her filmy chemise, the emerald necklace and her footwear.
“Jocelyn, you’re stunning.”
“Thank you.” Her throaty tone told him her flirtation had taken a toll of her too.
She planted her pert backside on a chair and bent to take off her shoes. With a playful glance at him, she untied her garters and made a production of rolling her scarlet stockings down her legs. She started to remove her chemise.
“No, leave that on for the moment.”
“Will you kiss me now?”
“And more,” he promised.
Jocelyn joined him on his bed, and they stared at each other, potential shimmering between them.
“What do you mean to do with me, my husband?”
Pure pleasure struck him at her words. “I intend to touch and learn your shape. Kiss you.” Leo cupped her shoulder, savoring the warmth of her smooth flesh. “I want to kiss your lips again, your breasts. By tomorrow morning there won’t be an inch of your body I haven’t kissed or tasted.”
She licked her lips. “And then what?”
“I intend to fuck you until this hunger inside me is sated.”
“Do I get a turn?”
Interesting, his bluntness and vulgar language didn’t scare her into blushing silence. “Later,” he said, drawing her against him. He intended to start his seduction. He crushed his lips to hers, loving the way she responded immediately. Her hands curled around his neck, and every idea he’d entertained of taking his time flew out the window. Hell, he needed her, and if he didn’t get these breeches off soon they’d strangle his cock and cut off his circulation.
“Chemise off,” he demanded, springing off his bed to deal with the fall of his breeches and remaining clothes. When he glanced back at Jocelyn he found her exactly where he’d left her, her eyes big and wide as she watched him disrobe. His hands settled at his sides, and he stood before her naked and aroused.