Jocelyn ached for his touch and, when he stalked toward her and finally drew their naked bodies together, a hard shudder seized her. She gripped his shoulders and strained to get even closer, her quim weeping and ready for his possession. This man—her husband—she scarcely knew him, yet he touched places inside her, made her hunger for his hands on her skin, his smile. Especially his smile.
Their lips met, communicating urgency on his part. Jocelyn didn’t mind. Their thoughts ran parallel. She didn’t want cautious and easy. Tonight she needed to know she belonged to Leo. She wanted to experience every gut-wrenching emotion she’d missed in the past because she’d chosen—been forced on a different life path.
This time was for both of them, for pure pleasure and pleasing each other. For once, she experienced no pressure to perform or boost egos. It made a big difference.
His kisses fueled her need for more until she went dizzy with desire. Finally, desperate for air, she pulled away, her chest heaving. Before he could speak or ask questions, she pressed a quick kiss to his throat. That peck became another kiss, this one long and lingering while she discovered his flavor and drank in his heady scent of bay rum and masculinity. Her new favorite bouquet.
He gripped her upper arms, gently pushing her away. His eyes glittered with both laughter and triumph as he rolled and covered her trembling body.
“I can’t wait any longer,” he said. “Let me pleasure you.”
Amusement simmered and prompted a burst of humor. “You want a clear conscience when you finally pounce on me and lose control.”
“Of course.” His grin held a hint of rogue, and her heart beat a little faster at his playful manner. “You’ve discovered my evil plan.”
Jocelyn couldn’t contain her mirth. “Your plan doesn’t sound wicked to me.”
“I’m pleased to hear I don’t scare you.” One hand smoothed over her collarbone, his callused fingers creating a sensual drag across her skin. Awareness pulsed in her, his touch shooting sparks through her veins, his blatant regard making her feel feminine and seductive despite her ordinary appearance.
“I’m not frightened of you.” She’d known fear, and it bore little relation to the feelings coursing through her now. The murder…no, she mustn’t think the worst. “A bit nervous maybe, but I think that is to be expected with a new marriage.” Her smile felt as if it were ragged at the edges.
“Understandable. You have freckles all over.” His fingers moved in a seductive stroke from one golden spot to the next.
“The bane of my life.” She clutched his shoulders, her fingernails biting into his flesh, yet he didn’t protest. Instead, he licked a lazy path across the curve of one breast, making it difficult for her to concentrate. “Freckles are not fashionable,” she added.
“I like them.” His warm breath washed across her skin as he spoke.
Her nipples beaded to hard points, a silent plea for him to touch her with greater intimacy. Her head dropped back. “Leo, please.”
Luckily, he didn’t attempt to tease her or draw out the waiting. One big hand covered her breast, his fingers circling then tugging on her nipple and sending desire sizzling across her skin. She gulped in air and gasped when his mouth closed over her other nipple. Oh, this was exactly what she needed. She turned liquid deep inside, moistening for his possession, yearning for him to hasten his pace.
“Leo.” This time her voice held approval as he palmed her left breast and stimulated her nipple with deft fingers. His mouth worked harder, spreading a prickling trail of pleasure. She stirred restlessly, desperately craving more, yet contrarily wanting to draw out his attentions and commit them to memory so she could recall every perfect detail once she was alone again.
“I like the way you smell,” he said when he lifted her head. “But you taste even better. All sugary and sweet with a hint of spice.”
“My mother makes lotions and special rinses in the still room. I use them to wash my hair and to keep my skin smooth.”
“I must commend her.”
She’d ask her mother to make something for Leo. She’d enjoy working on a special project. Then thoughts of her mother faded because Leo moved down her body. He parted her legs and placed a kiss directly on the heart of her quim. She gasped at the skill and purpose in his touch. Soon her entire body hummed under his seductive plundering. A lap of his tongue. A faint nibble and an open-mouthed kiss. Her hips moved restlessly as she sought deeper contact.
“You like that.”
“Yes. More please, Leo.” Her hips canted in silent encouragement. She felt…empty. She craved his touch, his cock filling her. A soft moan escaped when he teased her nub, his stroke a tug deep in her core. Her stomach hollowed, and she trembled, unraveling with each of his caresses.
Laughing softly, he licked downward to her entrance, the stubble on his jaw abrading the tender skin of her inner thighs. This man…her husband. He knew how to pleasure a woman. Part of her wondered at his experience, about the other women in his life. They both came to this marriage with history. No! She needed to concentrate on their future.
“Leo.” Her pelvis rocked. She pressed her needy flesh against his mouth in silent demand.
“I know what you want.” This time he answered her plea. He pushed a finger inside her and her breathing went shallow. She squirmed when he closed his mouth over her and applied steady suction. A sharp breath filled her lungs, and she released it in a low moan. His touch was too much. It wasn’t enough. Flames swarmed over her entire body. Her pulse spiked sharply, then the molten force inside her exploded. The fire banked high and gradually reduced to languorous waves that seemed to go on forever. Finally, she sighed, a heartfelt sound of satisfaction.
Leo removed his finger and slid up her body. His lips settled over hers, urgent and inflammatory. He tasted wild and sweet, his eyes feral with passion as he gripped fistfuls of her hair and surged into her, filling her with one powerful thrust.
Fully embedded, he paused and lifted his head, his fingers toying with a springy red curl. “This surpasses my imagination.”
“I’m sure we can do even better yet.” This flirtatious nature was new to her, but she found she enjoyed the way her words teased humor from him, a bright smile.
Leo nuzzled her neck, and she gripped him in a possessive hold, running one hand down his back and coming to a rest on his rump. He began to move in decisive strokes that fueled a renewed surge of desire.
“Hell,” he muttered.
His hoarsely voiced curse brought a rush of amusement, an awareness of her feminine power. Determined to propel him into pleasure, she caressed his neck with a trail of kisses. At the place where his shoulder and neck met, she deepened her attention with hot suction and used her teeth to introduce a hint of pain. He groaned and, if anything, his cock grew harder, filling her to capacity. With a convulsive heave of muscles, he quickened his strokes, shoving her into the feather mattress.
Jocelyn gasped, a shimmer of sensation overtaking her. Her channel pulsed around his cock and another harsh cry escaped him. He invaded her body and stilled, throwing his head back and letting out a harsh cry of enjoyment. Jocelyn watched his stark visage, eyes screwed tight while he rode out the carnal stimulation. Gradually, he relaxed, his eyes popping open.
“Thank you,” she whispered, emotion welling in her, clogging her throat and preventing further discourse.
He might have thought she was thanking him for the satisfaction that came with their bed-sport, but it was for so much more. He’d shown her tonight how their marriage could be—the promise of a happy future. They suited each other. Instinctively she’d known that, but his behavior and care proved her instincts correct. They were a good match.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “I’ve barely started.”
He parted their bodies and started kissing her anew. Her muscles pulled tight with each tormenting stroke of his hands and mouth. Their breaths mingled and she clung to him, reveling in every tempestuous sensation.
“Good,” she said when their lips parted. “I haven’t finished either.”
His rich chuckle thrilled her, the echo of his amusement filling her mind as they loved each other into the small hours of the morning.
The tuneful singing of a maid roused Jocelyn. Her eyes opened to register the bright sunshine attempting to burst through a crack in the curtains. She stretched, the stiffness in her muscles bringing to mind the previous night. A faint smile played around her lips. She and Leo were compatible in the bedroom, and she looked forward to the coming evening.
Jocelyn slid from the tangled sheets and slipped on the shirt Leo had worn last night. She opened the connecting door to their chambers and stepped into her pink room.
“Good morning.” Susan helped Jocelyn don a robe. “Mr. Sherbourne said to let you sleep. I’ll go to fetch your tea now.”
Before her maid disappeared, Jocelyn asked, “Is there water to wash?”
“Of course,” the maid said. “I’ll arrange hot water while you drink your tea.”
Once Jocelyn was alone, she padded over to a window and surveyed the garden. She caught a glimpse of white from the corner of her eye. When she focused where she’d seen the flicker, she saw nothing. She shook her head and stepped away. Spending so much time with her mother was propelling her into flights of fancy. She’d most likely caught sight of one of the gardeners.
Susan arrived bearing a tray. The scent of the raspberry jam and the sight of two slices of bread brought pangs of hunger. Her stomach gave an unladylike rumble.
“Pardon me.”
Susan cast a knowing glance. “Your mother is asking after you, Mrs. Sherbourne.”
“Is she agitated?” Immediate tension tightened Jocelyn’s shoulders as she waited for more information.
“Oh, no. She was singing with Cassandra. They seemed very happy.”
“I’ll go and find them once I’m dressed,” Jocelyn said, then remembered the housekeeper. “After my meeting with Mrs. Green.”
Jocelyn hurried through her wash and changed into a serviceable brown gown to meet with the housekeeper.
Mrs. Green greeted her with a frosty grimace. Her black dress and cap were immaculate, spotless and crisp with starch. A simple bun confined her dark brown hair and not a wisp strayed out of place. Jocelyn fought an urge to check her own rebellious hair.
“I’ve brought the meal plans for the next week,” Mrs. Green said. “Mr. Woodley asked if he might meet with you later.”
“That will be fine. Please have a seat.”
They went through the menus, which were satisfactory. Mrs. Green appeared efficient, and Jocelyn didn’t want to upset her by changing everything. Not yet anyway. Thankfully, by the end of their meeting, Mrs. Green managed a wider, albeit tight, smile that told Jocelyn the housekeeper still bore reservations about the new mistress of Merrivale.
“Does Cassandra eat with the adults?” Jocelyn asked.
“She takes her meals in the nursery.”
Jocelyn nodded, deciding to speak with Leo regarding her stepdaughter. In her experience, it was best to start training a young girl for polite company as soon as possible. Cassandra would become used to conversation and able to hold her own if she joined the adults more regularly. Of course that meant Arabella would dine with them too. Dismay grew at the realization. Jocelyn straightened her posture as if preparing for battle. It would be best if she acted decisively and demonstrated that Leo was her husband in all ways. Jocelyn was here to stay.
“I’d like two footmen to help me move the furniture in my chamber, and if you could spare a maid to remove the curtains, I’d be most appreciative.”
“The color is bright to the eye,” Mrs. Green conceded.
“Do you know if there are suitable furnishings to replace those that are there?”
“The furniture Mr. Sherbourne’s mother used is in one of the attics. I can get the footmen to bring it down and the maids to polish it before you choose the items you’d like to use.”
“Excellent, thank you, Mrs. Green. I have a feeling you’ll know exactly what I have in mind.” At least Jocelyn hoped she did. “I have several things that require my attention today. Why don’t you decide on the replacement furniture for me?”
The faint approval that crept into the housekeeper’s cheeks told Jocelyn she’d read the women correctly.
“Do you require everything done today?”
“There is no hurry.” Jocelyn preferred to sleep in Leo’s chamber. She suspected they would share a bed again this evening anyway. “Thank you for your help, Mrs. Green.”
Jocelyn stood and went in search of Woodley. A quick conversation with her butler told her he was enjoying the change and wasn’t experiencing any difficulties, other than a little frostiness from the rest of the staff. He assured Jocelyn it wasn’t a problem.
“Do you know where I’ll find my mother and Tilly?”
“I believe they are taking a turn around the gardens,” Woodley said. “They have Miss Cassandra and her nurse with them.”
Jocelyn strove for an impassive expression. “Thank you. I think I’ll join them.”
Voices and childish giggles guided Jocelyn in her search. She spied the group by a lavender hedge. Arabella strolled ahead, a lacy parasol shading her face while her mother carried a basket and was busy gathering flowers and herbs. Tilly and Cassandra followed in the rear, her stepdaughter chasing a blue butterfly.
“Good morning. Mother, did you sleep well?” Jocelyn shot a quick glance at Tilly, her raised brows asking her mother’s nurse silent questions.
Tilly dipped her head in a quick nod while her mother burst into excited conversation, much of it about her room and the gardens. Jocelyn listened with half an ear while studying the child.
“You must be Cassandra,” Jocelyn said when her mother stopped talking.
“No, I’m Cassie.” Her stepdaughter wore a daffodil yellow dress covered with frills, and someone had arranged her golden hair in tight ringlets. Jocelyn saw none of Leo in the young girl.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Cassie. I hope you’re feeling better today.”
“Belle gave me medicine.” Cassie crept behind a leafy bush and peered at Jocelyn uncertainly.
“I’m glad you get to spend time with us then. Mother, let me carry the basket for you,” Jocelyn said.
“No, I wish to carry it to keep my cuttings safe.”
They walked through the garden picking rosemary, yarrow, angelica, more lavender and handfuls of rose petals.
“Could you make a special rinse for Leo to use in his bath?” Jocelyn asked, glad that Arabella had vanished around the bend in the path. No mocking eyes to offer Jocelyn discomfort. “I thought he might like one.”
Her mother started thinking out loud, muttering about herbs and spices and craning her neck as she searched for the various plants in the garden. She darted away to pluck leaves and blooms from a geranium and exclaimed loudly when she sighted a patch of marigolds. Her mother disappeared with Cassie skipping after her.
Tilly sighed. “I’d better follow them before they get up to mischief.”
“I’ll keep an eye on them,” Jocelyn said. “You find Woodley. Spend half an hour with your husband. I’ll send for you once we’re indoors again.”
“You’re an angel,” Tilly said.
Jocelyn shook her head since they’d repeated this conversation many times. Tilly was the saint for dealing with her mother during her bad spells. “Go before I change my mind.”
Tilly left, and Jocelyn trailed her mother and Cassie. The childish chatter and her mother’s soft replies reassured Jocelyn that neither of her charges required aid. She turned a corner and came across a young man trimming a hedge. He nodded in greeting before continuing his task.
A harsh scream cut the air without warning.
Jocelyn started running, lifting her skirts to navigate the twisting path. The young gardener raced behind her, his boots sending gravel flying.
A second scream came from Jocelyn’s right, followed by a high-pitch childish shriek of alarm. Jocelyn changed direction. She sprinted around a corner, her breath emerging in harsh pants and came to an abrupt stop. Her mother was cringing in a corner, a hedge at her back with Cassie squashed behind her rigid frame.
“Mother?” Jocelyn approached slowly, aware of the wildness in her mother’s eyes. “It’s all right. Everything is going to be fine.”
The contents of her mother’s basket littered the path, sprigs of herbs and delicate rose petals crushed beneath her feet. Her fierce eyes scanned a copse of oak trees, and she trembled violently.
“Mother?”
Hurried footsteps behind Jocelyn announced Arabella’s arrival. “What have you done to Cassie?” she demanded.
“Nothing,” Jocelyn said tersely. “Mother?”
Cassie started crying and the tears exacerbated her mother’s panic. Elizabeth’s facial muscles twitched. Another violent quake shook her thin shoulders and she shrieked, long and loud. The harsh, grating cry made the small hairs at the back of Jocelyn’s neck lift in foreboding.
“Mother, what is it?”
“The spy. He followed us. He’s here.”
“What spy?” Arabella demanded.
Not again. Jocelyn ignored Arabella to scan their surroundings. She could discern nothing in the garden or amongst the shadows in the trees. “There’s no one there, Mother.”
“There is. There is! He’s hiding.” Her mother’s voice grated with shrillness and she shook uncontrollably.
Jocelyn frowned, concerned about Cassie, who was wailing in earnest. “Mother, you’re scaring Cassie. Can we go inside and talk about it?”
“But the spy will come closer when we’re not looking,” her mother shrieked. “We can’t let him.”
A frustrated sigh escaped Jocelyn. Her mother wouldn’t budge until she proved there was no spy in the vicinity. Meanwhile Cassie continued to cry, her small body almost hidden by her mother’s skirts. Jocelyn turned to the gardener. “Could you check the copse for strangers please?”
“Yes, Mrs. Sherbourne.”
“Thank you. Look for footprints or anything out of the ordinary.” Jocelyn wrinkled her forehead, realized it could cause creases and smoothed her expression. “I don’t suppose you saw any strangers loitering in the area?”
“No, Mrs. Sherbourne. The only people I’ve seen are the ladies and Miss Cassie.”
“Arabella, did you see anyone?”
“Of course not.” Arabella sniffed, the twirl of her parasol highlighting her disdain.
Jocelyn suspected her mother was seeing ghosts again where there were none. She issued more instructions to the gardener. “Search the garden and the edge of the trees. Let Woodley know when you’ve finished and if you discover anything.”
The young man touched his cap in a respectful manner and trotted away.
“Search amongst the oaks first,” her mother screeched. “Look for a white ghost.”
A ghost? First she’d seen a man and now she was changing her story. Jocelyn fought for patience. Losing her temper wouldn’t help—she knew from past experience. “Mother, the gardener will search for an intruder. Please, stop screaming. You’re frightening Cassie.” She approached her mother cautiously, knowing a sudden move could set her off again. “Let’s get you both inside. I’m sure Mrs. Green will make us a cup of tea. She might even have a special treat.”
Cassie peered out at Jocelyn, her face tearstained. “Jam tarts?”
Jocelyn bit back her relief and held out her hand. “Let’s go.” She recalled the flash of white she’d seen earlier and discounted as nothing out of the ordinary. Could her mother have seen a bird? A dove perhaps?
“We should get Cassie inside,” her mother said. “It’s not safe out here.” She glanced around them, her gaze darting wildly as if she expected someone to pop from behind the bushes. Then abruptly, she fell to her knees and pawed through the sprigs of plants and flowers she’d picked. “My herbs and flowers are ruined.”
“I’ll pick more for you.” Jocelyn seized her mother’s arm and helped her to her feet while maintaining her grip on Cassie’s small hand. She started walking, silently praying her mother wouldn’t become even more difficult. To her relief both Cassie and her mother fell into step.
“I’ll take charge of Cassie,” Arabella snapped.
“Of course.” Now wasn’t the time to make a scene. Jocelyn let Arabella take Cassie’s hand and focused on leading her mother to the house, only releasing her breath after ushering Elizabeth inside.
Tilly came running, her lined face edged with concern.
“Tilly, the herbs I picked are ruined.”
Jocelyn shot a sharp look at Tilly. Her mother was building up to another one of her screaming episodes.
“I intend to collect more for you,” Jocelyn promised. She rang for a maid and ordered refreshments, then she crouched in front of Cassie. “Are you all right, sweetheart?”
“Of course she isn’t.” Arabella let out a scoff that was almost a hiss, her dark eyes flashing with a hint of triumph.
Jocelyn ignored Arabella’s dramatics to concentrate on her stepdaughter. “Cassie?”
“The bad man scared me.”
Jocelyn’s mouth dropped open. “Did you see the man?”
“N-no.”
Jocelyn barely stopped her shoulders from sagging in disappointment. Cassie hadn’t seen anyone but was taking her cue from Elizabeth. Jocelyn stretched out her hand to Cassie. “Let’s dry your eyes. I’m sure Cook will send some of her special cakes for us.”
“Jam tarts,” Cassie said, her bottom lip sticking out in a pout.
Relieved at her stepdaughter’s resilient nature, Jocelyn hid her amusement as she ushered everyone to the parlor. “I’ll ask if Cook has tarts today.”
While they waited, she settled Cassie on a chair and wiped the last of her tears away. Tilly encouraged Elizabeth to retire to her rooms.
A loud commotion outside drew everyone’s attention.
Halfway to the door, Elizabeth whirled to face the window, her eyes wide with alarm. “I told you there were spies. They followed us from London. I told you!” She clapped her hand to her heart, her words growing progressively louder and strident.
“Your mother belongs in an institution,” Arabella said.
“I suggest you return to the nursery,” Jocelyn said in an icy tone. “I will personally deliver Cassie to you this afternoon.”
“You can’t—”
“I can,” Jocelyn snapped. “Go now before I decide to hire a new nurse for Cassie.” A cold stare met hers. The two women dueled in silence before Arabella broke the connection and flounced away. Jocelyn watched through a narrowed gaze, her body tense to the point of pain. When Arabella disappeared from sight, Jocelyn dragged in a noisy breath and turned to face her next trial.
“Mother, cease your cries.” Her mother was upsetting Cassie again. “Please.”
“He’s over there.” Elizabeth pointed a dramatic finger, and Jocelyn caught herself glancing over her shoulder, peering out the window for a glimpse of a skulking man before commonsense reasserted itself. This was yet again one of her mother’s imaginary phantoms.
“Is there something wrong, Mrs. Sherbourne?” Woodley burst into the parlor, his calm demeanor taking in everything at a glance.
“Elizabeth is upset,” Tilly said. “I think it’s best if we take her to her room.”
“I saw someone outside,” her mother insisted.
“I’ll send someone to scare them off,” Woodley said, his voice pitched to soothe.
“They won’t search properly,” Elizabeth said. “You go, Woodley.”
Woodley inclined his head. “Very well, Mrs. Townsend. I’ll do a search the minute we’ve escorted you safely to your chamber.”
Tilly took Elizabeth’s arm and Woodley the other. Together, they directed her mother toward her quarters and peace settled in the parlor. Jocelyn relaxed and smoothed her skirts. With relief beating a tattoo through her veins, she pinned a reassuring smile to her lips, ready to settle Cassie. “Cassie, we’ll—Cassie?” A shocked gasp escaped.
The child had vanished.