The Letter

by Emma Wildes

  He continued, lightly spanking, then soothing her pink cheeks with his hand, until her hands fisted in the bed linens and he could hear her panting. Incredibly aroused himself, he climbed up and grasped her hips, slightly lifting her and shoving her knees apart to make her cleft more accessible. Mounting her from behind, he heard her gasp as he found her small, wet vaginal entrance with his rigid demanding arousal. He began to move inside in small, erotic thrusts, finally impaling her fully, and then withdrawing to plunge back inside with long smooth strokes.

  She felt like heavenly fire, hot, snug, wet silk that clenched his cock as he moved. Her slim hips held immobile by his hands, Jared ravished her body in a way he never dreamed of a few days before. Heated pleasure coursed in every pore of his body, a faint sheen of sweat breaking out across his brow as he held onto control by a thread. An experienced man, he recognized that part of his heightened enjoyment when making love to Patricia was her very lack of sexual knowledge. The fact that every moan of pleasure, every enlightened peak of unabashed delight was something he exclusively had given her.

  His beautiful, passionate wife was his alone, he thought in dark possession as he admired her smooth, graceful back and tumbled pale hair.

  His testicles tightened as his climax built. He held back with effort, waiting until he felt the signs of release in her body before giving in. It came first with a tightening of the passage he invaded, a strong contraction of the tiny muscles there answered by Patricia’s low keening scream. She shoved backwards as he came forwards, her face buried in the satin sheets, lifting her lush bottom in supplicant carnal need. His answering rush was immediate, scalding blissful release capturing him as he exploded deep inside her. The orgasm was so intense it caught him off-guard and he shuddered. His hands smoothed down the outsides of her smooth, taut thighs as he came hard, letting the waves of pleasure wash over and over him.

  It was a few minutes before he could even move. Gently withdrawing from between her legs, he lay down and turned her toward him, pulling her damp body into his arms. Sifting his fingers through her soft hair, he smiled into her flushed face. “I think, darling, you are completely forgiven for my discomfort at the ball.”

  A small smile curved her mouth and she murmured dreamily, “What a pity.”

  “Oh, don’t worry.” His hand slid across her warm cheek, traced the soft pink bow of her mouth, and then drifted down the curve of her neck to cup one firm breast. Rubbing his thumb across the peaked crest, amazed he could even think lascivious thoughts considering the force of his recent climax, Jared gave his wife a dangerous smile of pure promise.

  “The evening has just begun, my love.”

  * * * *

  The big room was very quiet, the fire having burned low. Only the occasional crackle of a popping spark broke the silence. Next to her, Jared slept half on his stomach, one arm curled around her waist. Patricia felt pleasantly exhausted, her thighs sticky from their extensive lovemaking. The warmth of the bed, plus her husband’s large, completely male body next to her, should have made her sleepy.

  Instead, she was wide-awake.

  He was beautiful, she decided, able to lie there and study him freely, something she didn’t get to do often. His features were sculpted, high-cheekbones, a straight if perhaps arrogant nose, and a firm yet sensual mouth that could smile in a way that made her knees weak. His hair, a little long and slightly wavy, was thick and disheveled against the white linen of the pillowslip.

  With each measured breath, his wide chest lifted, the definition of hard planes and tapered muscle showing in his lean waist and flat stomach, and that part of him that gave her such pleasure lay relaxed in a circle of dark curls between his powerful thighs. Having only seen it erect, Patricia pondered the difference of that amazing organ, and the miracle of his body—and hers. That a man and woman could come together so perfectly in sexual intercourse and achieve not only incredible pleasure but also a communion of intimacy was a true miracle.

  However, perhaps her husband just didn’t see it that way. After all, once he had bedded Alicia Black, even knowing she was married, even considering her waspish temperament. Though the woman was beautiful, she was also a vindictive bitch.

  Snuggling a fraction closer so she lay more in his embrace, Patricia knew with a sinking heart that Jared had had many lovers in the past. It wasn’t exactly a surprise that he would keep a mistress or engage in affairs. Most men in his position—even without his undeniable good looks—did so as a matter of course. But how could two people make love and then achieve enough detachment to walk away from each other?

  She just didn’t understand.

  Her mother had explained before her wedding that men looked at things differently than women, and she was startled to realize that was perfectly true. Things to Jared seemed straightforward, such as his autocratic order to not attend the play, while she saw the situation more as an insult to her intelligence and ability to make a decision on her own.

  Surely there was a way they could reach common ground, even out of the bedroom? That would be her goal, she decided as she moved a little closer, her breasts now touching his chest, her pelvis tucked against his groin. First, to make him continue to wildly desire her body and second, to make him see her as an equal, not just the suitable and acquired duchess he needed to fill his nursery and see to his carnal needs, but as a person he liked and considered a friend.

  Jared shifted slightly, pulling her possessively closer, saying something in his sleep as he tucked her body next to his, his breath ruffling her hair.

  Content, Patricia suddenly found she was very, very tired.

  Chapter 4

  Something was in the wind—cold as an arctic glacier though it was outside, it seemed overly warm in the confines of the usually comfortable atmosphere of his club. Discarding his greatcoat, Jared nodded at several men he knew as he advanced toward his usual table, seeing their openly amused expressions with growing trepidation. He could feel the stares of friends and acquaintances in the dark and elegantly muted room as he walked across the plush carpeting.

  “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, trying to appear nonchalant. “What has she done now?”

  Reggie was already there, lounging indolently in a chair, his long legs sprawled in contentment as he sipped a glass of cognac. His younger brother gave Jared an engaging grin as he approached and lifted his brows. “You’re back, then. I thought you’d be gone more than a few days. Usually a summons from Grandmamma to her deathbed takes no less than a week. Better you than me. Luckily, I am not the duke with your tedious responsibilities to family.”

  Jared grimaced as he gestured for a glass and a bottle of claret. “She likes to make us all dance to her tune. I try to indulge her, but as a newly married man, I did insist I couldn’t stay more than three days. Her supposed illness proved to be nothing more than a case of indigestion. Mother is still there.”

  “Ah yes, you’d eagerly want to get back to your stunning young bride.”

  There was no mistaking the gleam of pure devilment in Reggie’s eyes. Auburn-haired, almost as tall as Jared and athletically built, he was five years his junior but they were good friends, often fencing and riding together. It was tradition that they gathered for a drink on Friday evenings, which was why Jared had stopped by before going home.

  Pouring himself a full glass of wine, Jared said flatly, “What the hell is going on? If Patricia has wandered naked in Piccadilly Circus, or entered a petition to the House of Lords for women to be allow to gamble and smoke in the gaming houses of Whitechapel, or God knows what else …Jesus, just have mercy and tell me, will you? I’ve only been away three days and she swore to me she would keep a low profile.”

  His brother’s brows twitched and he laughed in unadulterated mirth. “Nothing so drastic, and as far as I know, my lovely sister-in-law has been the sole of discretion since your departure.”

  Suspiciously, Jared took a hearty drink from his glass. “If so, why the devil is ever
yone here staring at me? And you have a suspect expression that I’ve seen before, usually when we were children. As I recall, I often got a good thrashing for something you tattled I’d done after I saw that particular look on your face.”

  “Don’t blame me.” Reggie tried to look outraged and failed. “You were older and bigger. I cannot help it if I explained to our parents when you led me astray into dangerous adventures.”

  “You were a notorious little snitch. Now, come clean. If my wife is up to another one of her doubtful shenanigans, I’d like to hear it now, so I can ingest a great deal of wine before I deal with her.”

  “Actually, she did nothing but give you a great compliment.”

  With an audible groan, Jared asked darkly, “Like what?”

  Coughing to conceal his laughter, Reggie straightened his expression. “It seems that at the ball the other night, when asked just exactly what you’d done as punishment after bodily removing her from the theater that fateful evening, she was overheard replying that you had scolded her ‘most wonderfully all night’. What’s more, your luscious duchess mentioned with a dimpled smile that you were tireless and endlessly inventive. By all reports, you have most of the men in London wondering if they should beat their wives for their indiscretions, or simply whisk them straight up to the bedroom and take out their frustrations in the most pleasurable of ways, between their legs instead of on their bottoms.”

  Or both, Jared thought, remembering the other evening.

  “Blood and thunder,” he swore in exasperation, slumping in his chair, his glass dangling from his fingers. Through his teeth, he muttered, “That isn’t exactly keeping a low profile.”

  “No, indeed. I won’t lie, everyone is abuzz with the details of your volatile but obviously romantic marriage.” His younger brother chuckled and reached for the cognac bottle. “But then again, I doubt there is a man in England who could blame you for how you handled the situation. Patricia is delightful, Jared, as you apparently well know. She is still an ingénue, as well, not used to being scrutinized every second of the day.”

  “Perhaps, but forgive me if I am unhappy to have the details of what happens in our bedroom fodder for the gossip mill. She should know better than to make a personal comment like that in such a public place.”

  “At least what she said was flattering,” Reggie pointed out as he filled his glass. “There are worse things than having everyone know she considers you a tireless and endlessly inventive lover. All the stodgy, old matrons are agog to know just what it is you do to your gorgeous young wife in bed. Apparently your duchess isn’t just daring in public.”

  “That,” Jared growled, “is enough, Reg.”

  “All right.” With a theatrical sigh, his brother took a healthy drink. “Here, have some more claret and cheer up. Just think, when you get home you can scold her again most wonderfully”.

  Resisting the urge to get up and punch his brother, of whom he was genuinely fond, right in the nose, Jared bared his teeth in a forced smile. “Don’t mind if I do.”

  * * * *

  Her cloak was covered in a fine layer of snow and Patricia smiled apologetically at Brightson, their very correct butler, who took it from her. There was a small puddle already on the floor.

  “It is rather frightful out there.”

  “Yes, your Grace. That is exactly what the duke said when he arrived a short while ago.”

  Her heart seemed to instantly beat faster. “He’s home?”

  “Yes, Madame. In his study. He requests your presence at once.” Brightson looked completely impassive.

  Though her hem was slightly wet and she was certain her nose must be pink from the cold, Patricia didn’t bother to run upstairs to tidy up first. She was too anxious to see her husband. It was odd to think she had lived without him for twenty years but the three days he’d been gone felt like an eternity. Fighting the urge to dash down the hall because Brightson would consider that to be beneath her dignity as the Duchess of Tellbourne, she walked sedately to the door of Jared’s study and knocked lightly, opening it when she heard his deep voice bid her to enter.

  He sat behind his desk, frowning at some paper he held in his hand. Glancing up, he stood politely and said coolly, “Hello, my dear. Brightson told me you went over to see your new niece. How are your sister and the infant? They are both well, I hope.”

  “Yes, fine. The child is perfect and Liza is so happy.” A little surprised by his continued frown and studied civility, Patricia stood there, a tentative smile on her face.

  “I am so glad you are back,” she told him a little shyly. “I missed you terribly.”

  “Close the door and sit down.”

  A small ripple of foreboding went through her, though she felt puzzled. She’d barely left the house during his absence; it wasn’t like there was anything new for him to be outraged over. Though she would have much preferred for him to take her in his arms and greet her with a passionate kiss, she did as he requested and shut the door, choosing a leather chair by the fireplace as she sat down. “You seem odd,” Patricia said hesitantly.

  “Odd!” Jared said in a caustic tone she recognized, one brow winging upward as he seated himself. “Why, I have it on good authority that I am not odd, but instead tireless and endlessly inventive.”

  Since he was obviously angry about something, Patricia barely registered his specific words. In bewilderment, she asked, “I beg your pardon?”

  “Madame, are you going to tell me you don’t recognize the description? It is on the tongues of everyone in society, or so I am told. And believe me, after a short time at my club, I am guessing that to be exactly the case.” His handsome face wore an expression of open irritation as he spoke and his dark gaze was very direct. “And while I am pleased you find my attentions enjoyable, I would think you might let that be between the two of us, not all of greater London.”

  Had she said that? To her horror, Patricia realized she most certainly had said it, but only to Ava, who would never repeat it to anyone. She flushed, being at least partly guilty of the crime accused, and said defensively, “I said something like that to Lady Lockwood only in a private conversation, Jared. We are extremely close friends and often share confidences. That she would quote me is unthinkable.”

  “She didn’t, as I understand. You were overheard. Perhaps you might make a note to yourself that crowded ballrooms are not the place for such discussions. In fact, I order you to not discuss our sex life with anyone, understand?”

  Her slippers were wet, her appearance no doubt disheveled from her excursion, and her husband’s homecoming not in the least like what she had dreamed about as she lay alone in bed the night before. In fact, Patricia felt both disappointed and unaccountably close to tears.

  “Tell me, my lord,” she said more acidly than she intended, “have you never said something to one of your friends about a woman? Men are notorious for bandying about stories of their conquests. In all the time you were bedding the many lovely ladies that preceded me, did you never make a comment or give a suggestive description of your activities? What of Lady Alicia Black? How was she in bed?”

  She must have struck a nerve. A muscle seemed to twitch in his jaw and Jared leaned back in his chair. “My past is not the issue. Nor is my discretion. I am not the person who now has everyone avidly curious to know just what exactly we are up to each time we close our bedroom door.”

  “Married people have sex,” Patricia quoted, blinking rapidly to keep her eyes from filling. “I believe it was you who told me that, right after you invaded my bath and were seen quite openly fondling me. My maid is still afraid to open the door to my bedroom for fear she will catch us again. You also feel quite free to embarrass me by dragging me upstairs and announcing to your valet that you will undress me. If you think all of London doesn’t know that, think again. Servants gossip just as freely as the people who employ them.”

  “Patricia, I am your husband,” he said, but had the grace to at least flush
slightly. “It is my right to bed you whenever I wish.”

  “And I am your wife, and it is my right to say I enjoy it.” Her mouth trembled and she bit her lip. Unfortunately, despite all her efforts, one scalding tear escaped and traced a wet path down her cheek.

  “Oh hell,” Jared muttered, shoving his hand through his thick hair in evident frustration. “This simply might be the most ridiculous argument I have ever engaged in, and I have had a seat in the House of Lords since I was eighteen, where ridiculous arguments are the order of the day. Darling, don’t cry. If you want the truth, I suppose I dislike the idea that every gentleman of my acquaintance now wonders, if they didn’t already before, what it would be like to bed you. There is no question that you are entrancingly beautiful, but the idea that you embrace and enjoy inventive sex would make any man wild with desire.”

  That impassioned speech mollified her hurt feelings at least a little. Sniffing, Patricia said, “As long as you are wild with desire for me, that is all I care about, my lord.”

  “There isn’t much doubt of that, though I swear you attract trouble like flies to honey. Were you this vexing as a child? However did your father endure the constant turmoil?”

  “He adores me,” she said ,“and so he ignored it.”

  Jared looked suddenly dangerously amused, his expression changing from irritated and husbandly to sensually dark and speculative. “I’ll work on that. In the meantime, what kind of special punishment do I get to mete out for causing me to become the brunt of lewd jibes and disapproving looks from stout matrons? I warn you, I am feeling a little inventive this evening, my love.”

  Her breath seemed to rush from her chest. Patricia said demurely, “I vow to be very contrite, your Grace.”