He was hilted inside her, unmoving, while he petted her hair and nibbled at her ear. Jacaranda’s breathing slowed, and her world gradually righted itself.
“I like how you feel inside me.”
“You are my every feeble imagining of earthly bliss made manifest ten times over,” he said. “I knew you would be.”
“And yet we’ve wasted our summer.” She stroked his shoulders. Such broad shoulders, and they held up worlds of responsibility. She knew that now. “I will miss you, Worth.”
“I’m here now.” He shifted slightly, setting of shocks of pleasure inside her. “I’m loving you, exactly where I want to be. You can abandon me for the charms of Dorset, Jacaranda Wyeth, but this is not finished and you will not forget me.”
He moved inside her again, raising himself up on his arms. He met her gaze in the shadowy darkness, and Jacaranda had to close her eyes. He was watching her as he moved in her, watching her again lose herself to him, to the pleasure he deluged her with. Worth as a lover was as relentless as Worth in every other facet of his life. Twice more he sent her over the edge, each climb shorter and steeper than the last.
When he finally followed her into pleasure, Jacaranda held him to her with every fiber of her strength. He was silent with his satisfaction. Silent for endless moments while passion racked the length and depth of him. When he subsided against her, Jacaranda was in tears beneath him.
“Did I hurt you?”
“Never.” And he’d been right about something else: This was not finished.
His thumb brushed her cheek, and Jacaranda was reminded of how they’d met, in the dark, her head ringing, her sense of balance unreliable. She felt as battered now, except her heart was the organ in jeopardy.
When she woke up, it wasn’t light yet, but the birdsong coming through the window suggested dawn approached.
“You aren’t returning to your own room yet,” Worth rumbled beneath her.
“Let me off of you,” she said, trying to hoist a stiff leg across his body.
“I liked you where you were,” Worth groused. But he let her shift to a place beside him, then spooned himself around her. “I liked it a lot.”
“I liked it, too,” Jacaranda said, an odd joy welling up from among all her sorrows. “I must thank you for this night, Worth.”
“And I you. Will you write?”
“I don’t think that’s wise, do you?”
“I know you and Daisy must resolve what’s between you, and then there’s this Dorsetshire Bacchanal that your step-mother schemed to drop in your lap. I still have your money, though, and I intend to get it back to you.”
He’d keep hold of her heart, though. “You’re good for the money.” She kissed the hairy male forearm banding her collarbones. “When will you go north?”
“By Michaelmas. I haven’t committed to stay the winter, but Avery should see the ancestral pile, and it’s…it might be time I spent some time there. Hess and I had an interesting conversation last night.”
“He’s protective of you,” Jacaranda said, treasuring the feel of Worth, big and warm, and dearly familiar cuddled around her.
“Hess and I have wasted years more or less as a result of not being protective of one another. It leaves one sad, but I understand about you needing to go home.”
“You couldn’t possibly.”
“Yes, love, I could. We both left home in a towering pout and took on the management of the world. Well, the world’s somewhat taken in hand, the pout has worn off, and family is still family.”
“You make it sound so prosaic.”
“Prosaic and profound, like what passes between a man and wife in bed. Babies, snoring, cuddling, cold feet. Mundane existence with little doses of heaven mixed in.”
“Life.” She nuzzled his arm this time.
“You are my glimpse of heaven, Jacaranda,” he said, and she knew they were words of parting. “I will spend the rest of my life missing you if you insist on making this remove to tend your family permanent.”
“Not yet.” She rolled to her back. “Please don’t start missing me yet.”
He made love to her again, slowly, with a wealth of tenderness, his sorrow at their parting palpable in his every caress and sigh. Jacaranda didn’t want their joining to end, yet the twining of the sorrow with the delight became an unbearable combination, until she was weeping in Worth’s arms, even as she was consumed one last time by pleasure.
Chapter Eighteen
“So you’re simply letting her leave?”
Grey Birch Dorning, Earl of Casriel, tossed the question at Worth as his lordship mounded omelet onto his plate at the sideboard. There probably wasn’t an egg in the whole of Surrey that hadn’t gone into the morning’s meal, and at least three entire loaves of bread were toasted and buttered as well.
Jacaranda had kept the lot of them fed, clothed, housed, and more or less out of trouble since her girlhood.
“You’d best eat,” Casriel went on. “Until Jacaranda comes down, the boys will think nothing of taking the food off your plate.”
“Grampion was so busy pouring my best spirits down their thirsty little throats last night, I doubt they’ll be up and about this early.” Worth put a goodly pile of eggs on his plate for show. God knew he wasn’t hungry.
“Sycamore—Cam—can out-eat any one of us,” Casriel said, setting his plate at the place to Worth’s right. “He’ll be the tallest, though he’s the youngest, and certain older brothers of his will regret some teasing they’ve done. You’re avoiding my question.”
“Regarding your sister,” Worth said, passing the teapot over. The table boasted three this morning. “It’s gunpowder. Hess and I prefer it.”
“I didn’t put the two together,” Casriel said, pouring his tea. “I know Grampion in passing, and I knew Jacaranda’s employer was some dithering little cipher in the City, Somebody Kettering. Never made the connection.”
“I don’t dither.” Nor were his offices in the City. Worth pushed over the cream and sugar. The cream was in a milk pitcher today. Better than a quart of it awaiting the Dorset Horde. “Your sister is a lady in every sense. She should not have been allowed to go into service. Had I known her station, I would have returned her to you five years ago.”
“I, for one, am glad you didn’t,” Casriel said around a mouthful of eggs. “I was having a grand time in Town, new to the title, years past university, and she sent me a letter warning me Daisy was being courted and telling me to get myself down to Dorset as head of the family, because Jacaranda was tired of cleaning up after me. She said if she had to spend a life in service, she at least wanted to be paid for it.”
Worth poured himself more tea while he still could, wanting to toast the lady in absentia.
And yet, the earl sounded genuinely contrite. “Go on, Casriel. The barbarians will soon sack the sideboard and take the teapots prisoner, unless I’m mistaken.”
“Jack saw what I did not. I had no authority as head of our family because I was little more than a boy myself and acting as stupidly as most others in my position. My step-mother has ever enjoyed delicate nerves, and my brothers were terrorizing their tutors, the maids, the local girls. Jacaranda contained them as best she could. While my brothers and I weren’t looking, somebody stole a march on us and treated her ill.”
“Do you know who the somebody is?”
Casriel set his fork down, just so, on his plate.
“That’s a bit delicate. A family as big as ours is a balancing act. If I buy Ash a horse, must I buy one for all five of my other brothers? If Daisy got flute lessons, did I owe Valerian the cello he claimed he’d practice five hours a day as well? You can’t always know what the just outcome is, and when you do, sometimes you wish you didn’t.”
“Not in this case,” Worth said. “In this case, you let the man who abused one sister turn around and marry the other.” He felt not the least sympathy for an earl whose brothers were decimating Worth’s pantries and his stores o
f civility as they stole Jacaranda for their own. “Oh, and you let Jacaranda’s portion be tucked in among the wedding presents.”
Casriel’s gentian eyes narrowed. “The trust was transferred by my own father, and that’s Lady Jacaranda to you.”
On Jacaranda, those eyes were beautiful. On Casriel, they were merely odd, to Worth anyway.
“Lady Jacaranda, my housekeeper. I at least gave her a generous wage for her hard work. You let her sister—or, more properly, her step-mother—steal from her.”
“Daisy’s lungs—”
“Were as hale as yours by the time this Eric weasel came sniffing around your sisters.”
Casriel glanced at the door. “Look, Kettering. There I was, a grown boy, one sister begging me to let her go off into service, the other sister bound and determined to get her hands on this squire’s son. I could not afford many more Seasons for Jack, and Daisy would spare me the whole Town do if I could get her married. Haven’t you ever been young and stupid?”
Well, hell.
Worth had been young and stupid, and last night, he’d been not young but still stupid, because he’d taken no measures to protect Jacaranda from conceiving a child. He was still trying to untangle his motivations for that, and hers for allowing the risk.
“What will you do now?” Worth asked. “Let her molder away on the coast, cleaning up after those bull calves you call brothers?”
“I wish they were bull calves. Then my course would be clear-cut, so to speak.”
“Good morning, all.” Hess sauntered in, looking well rested and elegant, damn him.
“Hessian.” Worth poured himself more tea. “Casriel encourages us aging bumblers to eat before the locusts descend from their bedrooms.”
“Jack can put away her fair share, too,” Casriel said, slathering jam on his toast.
“Lady Jacaranda to you,” Worth retorted, balling up his serviette and rising. “She hates to be called Jack.”
* * *
Worth helped Jacaranda dress. His attentiveness broke her heart in a whole different way, but he topped that accomplishment by helping with the last of her packing, too.
Both of those heartbreaks were different from the heartbreak of making love with him.
Different from the pain of waking in his arms.
Different from the anticipation of him coming home from Town.
Different from sharing the single tea cup with him when her morning tray came up.
And it all hurt unbearably.
“Before you go downstairs,” Worth said, drawing her down beside him on the settee, “we need to discuss something.”
“Not my money.” She could not bear to see him looking so solemn. “You may borrow it as long as you want. I’ll have a roof over my head at Dorning and coal for the hearth. We manage. I’m not sure how Grey does it, but we do manage.”
“Not providing his sisters any dowry probably helps.” Worth’s scathing tone was at variance with the gentle caress of his thumb over her knuckles.
“He has to see my brothers educated, Worth. Don’t judge him.”
Worth’s smile was crooked and sad. “You love him. I’ll keep my judgmental mouth shut on that score. My dear, last night—”
“Last night was lovely.”
“Last night was beyond lovely,” he countered, “but there could be a child, Jacaranda. I want you to promise me we’ll marry if there is.”
His words implied they would not marry unless a child came along. She had refused his proposals, after all.
“Think of the child, love.” He brought her hand to his lips. “Think of the scandal to your family, when your brother ought to be finding himself a countess.”
She studied their joined hands. “He ought, oughtn’t he? Given the timing, I doubt there will be consequences.”
“Is Wyeth any part of your name?”
“Jacaranda Wyeth Dorning. No missus, though. That was a misrepresentation.” Another misrepresentation.
“A liberty,” he said. “Promise me, Jacaranda Wyeth Dorning. I would not force you into marriage, but it is my right to provide for my child and the child’s mother. My privilege.”
She kissed his knuckles and nodded.
“Say the words, my love.”
Oh, that hurt. Those little words—my love—said with such patience and tenderness while he looked at her as if she were precious.
“I promise, if we’ve conceived a child, I will tell you and you can make proper provision.”
“Thank you, Jacaranda.”
“I’m about to cry.”
“You cried enough last night,” he said, though his tone assured her his words were meant kindly, bracingly. “A pack of hyenas is scavenging every scrap of food from my larder, my housekeeper is leaving me, my brother wants me to winter in Cumberland, for God’s sake, and you think you’re entitled to cry?”
“Suppose not.” She might well have the rest of her life to cry. “Will you see me off?”
“If that is what you want. I’ve a suggestion,” Worth said, drawing her to her feet. “Why don’t we send you and Casriel on your way? Your brothers can come after you when they rise.”
“They might not be up and about for hours.”
“Trust me,” Worth said, stepping back and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “They’ll be no more than two hours behind you, and Casriel will want to take his time because he’s escorting a lady. You’ll have your knights at your side by noon.”
“Anxious to get rid of me, Worth?” She paused by the door, wanting nothing more than to feel his arms around her one more time.
“Anxious to get the pain of parting behind you, yes.”
“I’m glad you’re capable of thinking,” she said as he led her toward the stairs. “I’m not.”
“You’re exhausted. I can send you home in my coach if you like.”
“No, thank you. The fresh air will do me good.” Left to herself in a coach, she’d give way to tears all the way to Dorset. “Grey and I will spend the morning catching up.”
By the time Worth had brought her to the breakfast room, Jacaranda’s chin was up, her shoulders were back, and she’d resolved to get through the next hour with some dignity. Grey acceded easily to Worth’s plan, and Worth excused himself to alert the stables to the arrangements.
When Jacaranda saw Worth next, the tea and toast she’d managed to down were sitting miserably in her stomach, and Grey was making a polite production out of conferring with Hess over by the gardens. She waited by the mounting block as Worth emerged from the stables.
He was so dear. She’d always liked his looks, liked how easy he was with his size and his strength. She liked his humor, his odd touches of modesty and fastidiousness, liked how he was a good brother and a devoted uncle.
He was conscientious with his clients, and with her he’d been so careful, so confoundedly caring it was easy to forget that Jacaranda’s brothers needed her.
Then too, Step-Mama—among others—had some significant explaining to do.
“Let’s stroll a little, shall we?” Worth appropriated her arm, wrapping his hand over hers. “Hess will keep Casriel busy as long as we need him to. Did you know Roberts and the maid named Muriel were spying for your brother?”
“I suspected. I would feel eyes on me from time to time.”
“We’ve been discreet, Jacaranda. You’re not to let that pack of jackanapes run roughshod over you because you think you’ve been naughty.”
“I’m not?” She had been naughty, wonderfully naughty. A skein of happiness trickled through her sorrow. She’d been naughty, and this time, she was not remotely ashamed.
She was glad.
“But for the youngest couple, your brothers are grown men, off to university and back, and you are not their nursemaid.”
“Are you lecturing me?”
“I am.” He paused in their perambulation. “I want you to be happy, and that lot isn’t intent on the same priority. I know, I was a jackanap
es once myself, and we’re a selfish bunch. Promise me this is what you want.”
“I want this,” she said, able to mean it in some sense, because five years at Trysting had only made some problems worse, not better. “You’ll make my good-byes to Yolanda and Avery, Miss Snyder and Mrs. Hartwick?”
“No. They’ve all got their noses pressed to the windows in the nursery wing, I’ve no doubt of it. Wave and they’ll see you.”
She waved and caught a flutter of movement from the third-floor windows.
“I’m about to kiss you good-bye, my love.”
“I’m about to let you.”
He kissed her when she desperately wanted him to talk her out of leaving. Not a naughty kiss either, which made it worse. His kiss was sweet, tender, almost chaste, and all too quickly over.
“Ready?” His gaze was steady and steadying.
“As I shall ever be.” She took his arm and processed to the mounting block, feeling as if it might have been the gallows at the Old Bailey.
“We’ll be off then,” Casriel said. “Thanks for the hospitality, and if the boys give you any trouble, a bullwhip sometimes helps. They know which inns we use, and they’ll come along because I’m the only one carrying enough blunt to stand their meals.”
“Lady Jacaranda.” The Earl of Grampion bowed over her hand. “It has been a pleasure and an inspiration.”
She blinked, seeing kindness and understanding in the earl’s eyes. Oh, dear…
“Come.” Worth turned her by the arm. “Your steed awaits.”
“My….Goliath? You’re lending me Goliath?”
“He’s taken to the country,” Worth said. “If you find he doesn’t suit, you can send him back with one of your brothers, but you and he are friends, and he’s of a size to carry you. Then too, Casriel says that due to yet another unforgivable oversight on your family’s part, you have no personal mount, and you deserve one.”
“Just for a loan,” she said, patting the beast’s glossy black neck. “A short-term loan.”
“For as long as you need him,” Worth said, and he was looking at her with such focus, Jacaranda had to wonder at the significance of this extravagant gesture.
My Favorite Rogue: 8 Wicked, Witty, and Swoon-worthy Heroes Page 76