The girl resisted at first, but then she allowed Jessica to lead her to the step before the door. They sat down together as if they were equals.
“Are you hungry?” Jessica asked. Without waiting for the girl’s reply, she said, “Hobbs, get something to eat for this child.”
A few minutes later, Hobbs brought a plate of food, and Jessica watched the girl devour it. When she had finished, Jessica managed to drag out of her that her name was Mae, and she and her grandmother lived alone. Mae was the provider for both of them.
“Mae, how would you like to come work for me?” Jessica asked.
The girl looked at her suspiciously.
“You can work in the kitchen,” Jessica added. “We will pay you fair wages, and enough food for you and your grandmother.”
“Will I have to live here?” Mae asked.
Jessica surmised she did not wish to leave the old woman. “No, you can sleep at your grandmother’s, but you must be back here every morning to do your chores.” Jessica watched Mae think over her offer. Finally, the girl nodded. “Good. Hobbs, get Mae cleaned up and show her to the kitchen. She is going to work for us.”
Jessica watched with amusement as Hobbs distastefully told the girl to follow him. She had to hurry to keep up, and Jessica heard Mae complain, “‘Ey, you ol’ coot, wait up!” With a smile, Jessica returned to the house. Her letter to Jason was forgotten.
Damien did not arrive home until much later that night. Exhausted and hungry, he entered through the servants’ entrance into the kitchen, for he had planned on raiding the larder and then falling into bed. Instead, he found Jessica sitting at the large, worn, kitchen table. Spread out before her was a small feast of a crusty loaf of bread, a hunk of cheese, cold ham, a large dish of strawberries and a bottle of wine.
She released a small gasp at his entrance and rose from the table. “Welcome home, Your Grace. Would you care for a bite to eat?” She indicated the food on the table.
His gaze traveled from his wife to the food and then back again. She looked delectable. Her color was high, most likely from being caught in the middle of her surreptitious banquet, and her luscious lips were stained with strawberry juice. Silky, dark tendrils of hair curled at her cheeks. He could not decide which enticed him more—the food or his wife.
“A feast!” he exclaimed as he slid into a chair at the table.
Jessica smiled as she sat beside him and poured him some wine. “Did you catch the poachers, Your Grace?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. But I understand from Hobbs that you were quite successful.” Damien placed his hand over hers and said, “You did well today, Jessica. I’m proud of you.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips.
She blushed at his praise. “Thank you,” she murmured, “but I only did what I felt was right.”
Her humble response awed him. He never would have thought of putting the girl they caught to work in the kitchen as Jessica had. The woman he had wed out of necessity was intelligent and brave and kind-hearted. She was beautiful and passionate. She made his heart sing.
He loved her.
Damien blinked. How could that be? He glanced at her, at her guileless eyes and soft lips. She entranced him.
“Jessica, I…,” he began. His words trailed away, and his gaze dropped to the food before him. He shook his head. No, he could not say the words aloud. She was the daughter of his family’s enemy.
He sensed Jessica waiting for him to finish, but he stared instead at his glass of wine and said nothing. Uncomfortable under her scrutiny, he felt heat rise across his cheekbones.
“Damien?” she prompted.
“Have a strawberry,” he said as he hastily placed the bowl of fruit before her.
A tiny line of confusion appeared between her brows, but she did not press. Instead, she took one of the red fruits and bit into it. Juice dribbled down her chin as she began discussing her plans for a new garden. She giggled, grabbed a napkin and wiped the drip. Damien wanted to push the napkin away and lick up the juice, taste the strawberry on her lips. But he refrained. The discovery of his feelings for her were too new. He had to decide what to do with them. For now, he would merely enjoy her company, the rest of the meal, and pleasant conversation as they discussed the events of the day.
Jessica cherished each moment, for companionable times with her husband were very rare. When they retired that night, Damien escorted her to the door to her room and left her with a chaste kiss upon her cheek. Jessica felt that a permanent, warm glow would forever claim that spot. She thought he might attempt to seduce her into lying with him, but he was a perfect gentleman. Reluctantly, she entered her room alone.
She climbed into bed expecting to fall asleep immediately, but sleep would not come. She replayed their meal together in her head. Damien had seemed different somehow, more relaxed, more attentive. Perhaps she had begun to break through his reserve. She wondered what he had been about to say that would cause the flush across his cheeks. She might never know. But at least they had shared a pleasant meal.
As she stared up into the darkness, she remembered the unfinished letter to Jason which she had left in the morning room. She decided that since she could not sleep, she would finish it and send it with the morning post.
When she reached the desk in the morning room, she discovered with dismay that the letter was missing. She searched around the desk, in the drawer, on the floor, but it was not there. She thought perhaps one of the maids had taken it to her room, so she quickly returned there and began to search frantically. The last thing she needed was for Damien to find the letter and once more be reminded of her family.
As she searched, the door to the sitting room swung wide. Damien stood in the opening. He had never used that door. Something in his manner made her heart pound. He wore a long, dark green dressing gown belted at the waist. She had an uncomfortable feeling that he wore nothing beneath. He held up a piece of paper. Jessica recognized it as her letter to Jason.
“Is this what you were looking for?” he asked quietly.
Relief washed over her at his mild tone. “Oh, you have my letter.” She started toward him to retrieve it.
“Aren’t you being rather careless about where you leave letters to your lover?” he asked.
Jessica halted. “What do you mean?”
“Your lover,” Damien repeated. He enunciated each syllable clearly. He glanced down at the paper in his hand and read:
Dearest Jason,
I miss you so very much. I wish you could be here with me, now, but I know that is not possible. Perhaps, soon, I will be able to come to you, and we can spend time together, laughing and riding together the way we did before my marriage…
He looked up at her. His lips twisted, and his face was stony. “How touching.” Those two words dripped sarcasm.
Jessica was devastated at the sordid meaning he read into her innocent words to her brother. His manner was quite evident. He was furious. She backed away.
Shaking her head, she said, “You don’t understand.”
“I think I understand too well.” He stalked toward her. “You have betrayed me, Jessica. You deny me the right to your bed as your husband, yet you pine to be with your lover.”
“No, I—” She stepped away.
He prowled closer. “Do not deny it. You have written it with your own hand.” He shook the letter at her.
Jessica had backed up to the bed. Damien was so close he only had to reach out to keep her where she was. The look on his face was terrible—a mixture of barely controlled rage and horrible hurt.
“Damien, don’t do this,” she said quietly.
“Do what? I’m not doing anything, while your lover…” He released a humorless laugh. “What does your lover do to you, Jessica? Does he shower your mouth with hot kisses? Does he caress your body to the point of forge
tfulness? Does he excite you to ecstasy?” His voice became deceptively seductive.
Jessica shook her head. “No. None of those things.” Then she realized by her denial she had admitted she had a lover. Her chin went up. “I have no lover.”
“No?” Damien’s mild tone contradicted the wrath in his eyes. “This letter says otherwise.” He held it up, then let it flutter to the floor. “I would like to meet this paragon of manly virtue. How did he steal your heart, Jessica? Did he woo you with florid phrases of poetry? Did he pick innocent daisies for you? Or perhaps he placed chaste kisses on your fingertips.”
Jessica sucked in a breath, hurt and frustration creating a heated tangle in her chest. This man—her husband—would always think the worst of her. He viewed her through the glass of her family and what they had done to him. He did not see her as herself, a separate person. And that made her very angry.
“You, my lord, are a half-wit,” she snapped. “The letter is to my younger brother, Jason.”
Damien blinked, stunned into confusion. Her words acted like icy water on the heat of his anger. He had been so sure of her infidelity. Was she telling the truth?
Her soft smiles and guileless eyes, her enticing curves and seductive walk tormented him. The restrictions she had placed on their marriage drove him mad. He had agreed to them only to get her to the altar. And—God help him—he loved her.
The pain and betrayal he’d felt upon finding the letter had twisted inside him, blinding him to anything else. He thought by marrying her he would find some peace from the hurt of his brother’s death that had haunted him all these years, but he had been wrong. All he saw was the deceitful betrayal by her family—Margaret’s seduction, his brother’s murder.
He searched her face for the truth. Her color was high. Her eyes were stormy. Her lips compressed in anger. That mouth, the bottom lip fuller, riper, begged to be kissed.
She stirred him as no other woman ever had. For a moment, he forgot the argument. She was his, dammit. All he wanted was to kiss her, touch her, possess her. He took a step closer, intending to do just that. And was stopped by a delicate but firm hand against his chest.
Jessica saw the change in his eyes from rage to desire. She watched as they changed color from cool green, cold and hard as two emeralds, to a darker shade like that of the sea. She wanted nothing more than to have him make love to her, but he would have to acknowledge the truth, acknowledge her, and believe her before she allowed him to touch her and break the bargain.
“Jason is my brother,” she said quietly. “You agreed that I could write to him.”
Damien blinked again and stared at her a moment. His gaze slid away, and he drew a breath. She watched as he seemed to rearrange his thoughts. When he looked back at her, his gaze was cool and remote.
“Of course,” he said. “My mistake. I apologize.” He took a step back.
Jessica realized that if he left, she might never have another chance to get him to love her. She might lose him forever. The time for truth had come. She had no other weapons to use in the battle for his love. It was a bet she did not want to lose. But she had to take the gamble. Time had run out. She curled her fingers into the lapel of his dressing gown and prevented him from leaving. He glanced down at her hand, then scowled at her.
“I am not Margaret,” she said. “I do not manipulate people. I am not my father, who did the only honorable thing he thought he could do when he found his wife with another man. It destroyed him, turned him to drink, and eventually killed him when his curricle overturned.” She shook her head. “I am sorry for your brother’s death. But I had nothing to do with any of it.”
He stared at her, his expression not revealing any of the thoughts behind those cool green eyes. He eased her fingers from his lapel, turned and walked to the door. Jessica’s heart compressed into a hard lump in her chest.
She had lost.
He stopped before the closed door. And did not move. Jessica’s breath stilled.
Seconds passed. He abruptly swung around to face her. “Is that why you made that absurd bargain with me? Because you believed I thought you had something to do with my brother’s death?”
“Didn’t you?” she asked quietly.
A crease appeared between his brows. A muscle jumped in his jaw. His head dipped.
“I believe I have made a mistake,” he said, his tone low and quiet. He clasped his hands behind his back. “I owe you an apology. Another one. I would beg your forgiveness.”
When he glanced up at her, his mouth curved in a crooked smile. He reminded her of a little boy whose hand had been caught in the jar of sweets.
Jessica’s breath left her in a rush.
“I have been a fool,” he said. “I had forgotten about your brother. When I saw the letter, I was furious. All I could think about was you with another man. That you had wed me because of some demented plan of your stepmother’s and forced me to accept that bloody bargain. I was so jealous I couldn’t see what you had told me only days before.”
Jessica opened her mouth to speak, but he rushed on before she could say a word.
“I will keep to the bargain as long as you wish.” He straightened as if standing before a judge. “I hope you can forgive me for being such a cad.”
His humble apology overwhelmed her. It wiped the words from her brain. Her love for this honorable man swelled inside her.
At her silence, he gave a short nod, turned, and placed his hand on the doorknob.
She could not let him leave. She took a step forward.
“Damien.”
He did not turn.
“Damien, make love to me.”
He swung to face her. “I beg your pardon?” he asked, gaping at her.
Jessica smiled at his disbelief. “Make love to me,” she repeated. “Please.”
“But the bargain…”
She gave a little shrug. “I was the one who forced you to accept it. I can be the one to break it.”
He took a step toward her. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She tipped her head, feigning curiosity. “Don’t you want to make love to me?”
He took another step forward. His mouth twitched up at one corner. “Of course, I do.”
“Well, then.” She pulled at the top ribbon of her dressing gown.
He stepped close, then pulled back as if she might break. “What about the babe?”
Jessica grinned. “I don’t think he or she will mind.”
A sly smile curved his lips. He pulled at the next ribbon on her dressing gown. “Well, then.” He untied the rest of the ribbons on her dressing gown, then reverently pushed it from her shoulders. “We will do this slowly,” he murmured. “You will tell me if you wish to stop.”
Jessica swallowed. “Yes.” She had no desire to go slowly or to stop, but she would not tell him that. She would let him care for her.
With a gentle shove, he pushed her back onto the bed. Leaning over her, he took both her wrists in one hand and pinned them above her head. She closed her eyes, finally able to break the bonds of his gaze. She felt his weight on the bed as he knelt over her.
Jessica sucked in a breath. Anticipation made her giddy.
She felt his lips on hers, demanding and possessive. His tongue slid across her lips, tasting, probing. With a sigh, she allowed him entrance.
His free hand slipped under her nightrail and explored until it found the mound of her breast. With his thumb, he teased the tip, causing it to harden and swell. Jessica shuddered in pleasure.
His touch, which she had denied herself for too long, was devastating. She had given him leave to claim his marital rights. He could have taken her quickly and been done. Instead, he seduced. He knew what aroused her, what made her mindless, and he used his knowledge ruthlessly. His hand moved over her body and awakened sensations that she thought she would ne
ver feel again.
His lips moved from her mouth to her neck to her throat to her shoulder, and left a trail of tiny butterfly kisses, making her breath catch in her throat. Somehow, her nightgown had come unfastened, exposing a breast. His mouth found the spot where his hand had been. A wonderful tingling ran through her body. A sound, somewhere between a moan and a sigh, escaped her lips.
She was helpless in his hands, as if he had cast some sort of spell over her. She could not break away. She did not want to. His mouth moved back up to her neck. He nibbled at the lobe of her ear. Her head fell to the side to allow him full access to the spot.
He sighed, as if a great weight had been lifted from him. “I love you, Jessica,” he whispered.
She sucked in a breath, shocked and at the same time joyous at the words.
He braced himself above her. “Do you wish me to stop?” he murmured.
She opened her eyes and cupped his face in her hands. “No. Never.”
She slid her hand to the back of his neck and pulled him down. Recklessly, her mouth met his, inviting him to taste. Her fingers curled in his hair, and her other hand slipped down his back as she felt the play of muscles under his skin.
His hands moved over her freely now, touching all over. She was exposed to his warm gaze and hot touch. He tasted first one breast, then the other. A heated glow spread through her body.
He stood and pulled her up with him. Taking the high neckline of her modest nightgown in both hands, he ripped it to its hem. It fell to the floor about her ankles.
“These are for virgins and old maids,” he growled. “You are a woman, and I will not see you in them again.”
A blush warmed her cheeks at being naked before him. She felt self-conscious with the slight roundness of her belly from her pregnancy. Half turning away from his gaze, she covered herself shyly.
“Don’t turn away, Jessica. I want to look at you,” he urged gently.
Very aware of his eyes on her, she slowly turned back to face him. He did not take his eyes from her face as he dropped his own robe to the floor, baring himself to her gaze. He wore nothing beneath it.
The Duke Who Loved Me: On His Majesty's Secret Service Book 1 Page 26