On These Silken Sheets

by Sabrina Darby

  The image of Diana’s plump buttocks overwhelmed him so completely that for a moment Jason forgot where he was. He caught himself just before his hand wandered down to his burgeoning erection.

  “I see.” Daniel laughed. “Amour unfulfilled.” He reached over to refill Jason’s glass.

  “Like you’d know anything about it,” Jason grumbled, wondering for the ten-thousandth time in the last two days why he hadn’t simply undone the falls of his breeches and taken the woman like she had wanted.

  But had she wanted? Hadn’t she merely been teasing him? Taunting him?

  No matter what the answer was, Jason knew that as much as he had desired her before, the longing was now tenfold greater.

  “I know a bit about it, though I’ve managed to put it from my mind,” Daniel said. “Don’t you remember, it wasn’t always roses with Lizzie?”

  “Right,” Jason admitted. “You nearly wasted away pursuing her.” His friend now enjoyed the sort of marital bliss only women wrote about.

  He wanted to tell Daniel about Diana, but to reveal her double identities, even to his closest friend, would put his name and his daughter’s future at risk. Something that might not have bothered him four years ago, but responsibility had taken its due.

  Hours later, Jason still couldn’t get her out of his mind. It had been too long since he’d been with a woman. Not since before his wife died. It was no wonder that his thoughts kept straying to Diana, to the creamy swell of her buttocks.

  She wanted him and he wanted her. Why shouldn’t they have an affair? Two independent adults without the need to make excuses to anyone for their actions. Why shouldn’t they?

  Because she owned Harridan House and God knew what she did when she visited there. What had she done last night? Had some other man thrust between those swollen lips?

  He tamped down the jealousy. He didn’t own her. He hadn’t even fucked her.

  Could he blame her for being who she was? Hadn’t she even tried to explain, how she’d been seduced, how she’d been molded? Wasn’t that sensual fire even part of her very attraction? It was like chiding a tiger for being too fierce.

  So he went to find her, to apologize to her, to plan his own seduction.

  Chapter Eleven

  Earnestina and Lord Ashburton were perched in the race stand, a rather shabby wooden building since the last one burned down five years earlier. Diana couldn’t bear the thought of being trapped in the rickety structure. So she sat in her carriage, struggling for any sort of view of the races.

  Brighton always seemed to be changing. The old pleasure garden, Promenade Grove, with its breakfasts and picnics had closed in the same year to make way for the Prince of Wales’s landscaping. But this year, especially with the death of old Wade, the Master of Ceremonies, everything felt different.

  “We’ll make a party to Rottendean on Thursday, what say you, Lady Blount?” Arthur Dunbury asked. “Start the season with a proper picnic before the crowds come in earnest.”

  “As long as your lovely sister comes, how can I refuse?” Diana returned with a smile. She liked the Dunburys. And she liked Arthur too much to take him up on the offer of marriage he had made several months ago.

  “Sister, you say?” Colonel Tiptain perked up. “By God, it’s good to be back in England. Surrounded by beautiful women, what. Far more diverting than the god-awful heat and the endless mosquitos. I’m awfully glad my cousin knows what fun is.” Diana laughed even as she brushed away the vigorous pinch to her thigh that punctuated his words.

  Diana had learned quickly what Colonel Tiptain’s sense of fun was—a darkened room, with his silver opium kit that went wherever he went. His habit was from his days in India, but his traveling kit was from China. The first night in Brighton, Earnestina had praised the ornate designs and the jade bowl carved in the shape of a dragon, even as she puffed on the silver-handled pipe as if she had been doing so for more than a week.

  Ash had teased Diana when she begged off and lounged on the far settee, not touching the apparatus. Not that she hadn’t tried the substance. Only, her aversion to it was much stronger, filled with her memories of Roger in his last months, when he’d finally chosen to staunch the pain with something stronger than laudanum.

  “She’s a young girl, Colonel, not for you,” she discouraged him. Lydia Dunbury might have had her first season but she was clearly a late bloomer. She’d hung by the wall through the months, stammering and pale as if she should still have leading strings attached to her dress. If she hadn’t sat next to the girl at a musicale, Diana might never have learned about her latent wit and sense of humor.

  “I think Lydia might take umbrage at discouraging any suitor so fast,” Dunbury quipped, ever ready to make fun of the sister he adored.

  Diana’s response fled from her mind, for she saw him, half a head taller than the crowd, standing with another man and a fashionably dressed woman who hung on his arm, laughing. Which did not bother her. Which had no reason to bother her.

  But it did.

  Jason was an insufferable prude, who continued to chastise her for her life choices, who’d even rejected her very generous offer. And yet she was jealous.

  The long, peaceful dinner they had shared still lingered in her mind, beguiling, as if that was the way it had been meant to be from that first moment she saw him in the lawyer’s office, the brief moment before she met his wife.

  His fair head of curls, glinting in the sun, turned as if pulled by a magnet until he stared directly at her. He inclined his head the slightest amount, his lips curling into a smile, and Diana found herself returning the greeting, her own lips curving, her chin raising in recognition.

  Her breath came a little faster as memory flooded. Suddenly the encounter in her sitting room had been seduction—foreplay—and this moment the continuance. There was the sense of inevitability that soon, very soon, satisfaction would come.

  Or maybe that was all in her own mind. Diana pulled her gaze away with effort. She was having ridiculous romantic thoughts. Inevitability, indeed. She was the master of her actions just as he was of his. An affair would only occur if each of them wished.

  Did she wish?

  Did she have so little pride that she’d sleep with a man who looked down upon her? But pride had been her failing two years ago and had trapped her into her current role. And hadn’t pride almost ruined her cousin Maggie’s chances at happiness with Oakley?

  Pride was overrated. She had to live for this moment, this life.

  She looked back but he was no longer there, and a quick scan of the crowd revealed nothing of his whereabouts.

  It was like an abrupt cessation in lovemaking—the rising sensations aching until time dissipated them.

  Chapter Twelve

  The day was hot, the crowds large, noisy and raucous. Jason squinted, surveying the field while Lizzie clutched his arm, laughing and tipsy from the ale they’d drunk.

  “C’mon,” Throckmorton urged, barely sparing them a glance as he stamped ahead. “Silverthorn will win, I’m certain of it.”

  “He won’t,” Lizzie said, giggling. “Daniel never picks the winner.”

  “Ah, but he picked you,” Jason corrected her. “However, I concur. Silverthorn will not win. I’ve placed my money on Lucinda’s Pearl.”

  “What a terrible name!” Lizzie exclaimed.

  “Horrible name, beautiful horse,” Jason agreed but his thoughts weren’t on the horse anymore, for he’d found his quarry, perched in an open landau, surrounded by men. He tamped down the twinge of jealous irritation. He knew very well what he was planning to get himself into.

  Diana’s face tilted to the side as she listened to the man sitting next to her. She looked young and innocent with her straw bonnet framing her pale face and auburn curls, but as she moved and laughed it was like watching liquid sensuality.

  Jason savored the moment. He had never met a woman like her. She even sat uniquely.

  Her head turned, her eyes meeting his
. He inclined his head in greeting, the slow smile that curved his lips intended to let her know that he was there for her. From the way she held his gaze just before she looked away, he had no doubt that she had understood that message.

  “Oh, look!” Lizzie exclaimed, pulling on his arm. “There’s Mrs. Mustlewhaithe. Daniel, don’t you see Agathe over there? She’s been our neighbor in London all season. Oh, and such a story about her niece! We must say hello.”

  Jason followed, losing sight of Diana as they moved deeper into the crowds.

  It was just as well. Patience was important now. With Brighton small as it was he’d see her soon enough.

  Chapter Thirteen

  In the early evening, Jason walked up the steps of the Air Street house, a stride ahead of Daniel and Lizzie. Before him stretched the possibility of a very pleasurable evening. A dinner among friends and then the ball to commemorate the final day of the Brighton and Lewes races. Without a doubt, Diana would be there and without a doubt, he wanted to see her.

  He wondered what dancing with her would be like, what she would feel like held in his arms. He had an idea, from the few times she’d been close to him—that night at Vauxhall, that afternoon at her London home.

  “Sir Jason.” The footman who opened the door caught his attention. “Miss Cassandra arrived this afternoon. A nursery has been made on the third floor.”

  All thoughts of Diana fled as Jason thrust his hat and coat at the young man and then hurried up the stairs. He’d been two weeks away from his daughter.

  She was in bed, her nanny, Mrs. Landis, braiding her hair. She was blond, like her mother, tall for her age, sturdy and healthy.

  Cassandra squealed when she caught sight of him, pulling away from the woman. Jason swept her up in his arms and twirled her around till she squealed again, laughing. He had missed that sound, that high-pitched infectious giggling that almost three-year-old girls did so well. He hugged her to him tightly.

  “How is my little princess?” he asked.

  “Your princess has had a very long day,” Mrs. Landis answered for the girl. “But she hasn’t stopped chattering once for the last hour about seeing her daddy.”

  “We saw the water!” Cassie cried. “I want to go in.”

  “You will, sweetheart,” he assured her, putting her back down on the ground and then settling himself on the floor beside her. “But for now, would you like to come downstairs and meet my friends?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was as if Jason had merely been a figment of her imagination, appearing in the crowd. Was it so strange that he should end up in Brighton where half of society had migrated? Yet Diana couldn’t shake the idea that he had come for her, for the unfinished business left between them.

  The thought perched in the back of her mind throughout the day and into evening, when they attended the last ball of the races at the Castle Tavern, but she ignored it determinedly.

  It wasn’t too difficult, she found, for as usual she never lacked for dance partners or amusing company.

  But then, Earnestina assessed her over the rim of her punch glass.

  “Whom are you looking for?”

  “I’m not…” Diana started to say in the moment before she realized. She had been looking for him. During every dance, and every conversation, she continued to sweep the room with her searching gaze. “Well, I suppose I was,” she amended. “I thought I saw my cousin earlier this morning. Sir Jason.”

  “Hmm.” Earnestina smiled slightly. “I’m certain if he is in Brighton, he’ll call on you. We’ll be forced to entertain him then. Ash will be quite put out.”

  “Put out about what?” Ashburton asked, as he and Dunbury joined them.

  “That we’ll be entertaining Sir Jason Blount.”

  “The man we met at Vauxhall?” Ash raised an eyebrow. “I know he’s your relative, Di, but it’s really too bad old Blount never had a proper heir.”

  “I think what Ashburton means,” Dunbury added quickly, “is that it is unfortunate the late baronet did not find his charming wife when he was still of an age to…”

  “That’s quite enough,” Diana interrupted, laughing. “You’re only stepping into the muck by trying to save Ashburton. I know he meant no harm.”

  “Certainly not,” Ash said, looking rather affronted. “I’d hardly lay any blame at your feet.” Then he flashed his easy, charming smile. “I’d much rather lay myself there.”

  “What a wicked husband I have,” Earnestina exclaimed, hitting him lightly with her fan. “Come, Di, let’s take a turn around the room and leave these men. Perhaps we’ll spot your Sir Jason.”

  Diana linked her arm through her friend’s, smiling as brightly as usual. She knew Ash meant no harm, but it didn’t ease the tight knot in her chest. It was stupid, really, to think about it. It wasn’t as if she even liked children.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rotterdean was a pleasant little village that had grown up around a duck pond and a pretty church. A windmill added to the town’s charm. But what Diana liked best about the outing was the exhilaration of riding over the velvet-green downs, breathing in the fresh country air.

  It was a nice change from the sickly sweet scent that seemed to cling to their Brighton rooms, as if they were all invalids convalescing.

  The party ended up being a large one, with the Dunburys and Miss Dunbury’s companion, the Ashburtons, Colonel Tiptain, and a few of Earnestina’s friends. Oakley’s younger brother, the Honorable Charles Chistlehurst, and his companion, Mr. Prentiss, joined them as well, impromptu, when they crossed paths in the streets heading out of town.

  When Chistlehurst and Prentiss proceeded to monopolize Miss Dunbury’s attention, Diana was relieved. The boys might be too young for marriage and far more interested in wine, women and wagers than much of anything else, but they were good-hearted, and ultimately gentlemen, which she was not certain could be said for the colonel.

  “Lady Blount,” Miss Dunbury called, drawing up next to her. As shy and pale in society as the girl was, she sat her mount well and her usually pale cheeks were flushed with the exhilaration of the ride.

  “Tired of the men already?” Diana asked.

  Miss Dunbury blushed. “They are quite shameless,” the girl admitted. “But I do like it. Mr. Chistlehurst makes it so easy to converse. It is all laughter.”

  Whatever respite the girl had been looking for didn’t last for long. Prentiss rode up beside them, a grin splitting his ruddy, boyish face.

  “Miss Dunbury, Lady Blount, we’ve started a wager and we need someone to arbitrate.”

  “A wager?” Miss Dunbury looked toward Diana as if she wished to go with Prentiss but did not wish to be rude.

  “Go on, Miss Dunbury, find out what this wager is.”

  Diana wondered if she’d ever truly been as innocent as Lydia Dunbury. It seemed that as long as she could remember, she’d known far too much: about anatomy, about lust, about what a man could do to a woman…and a woman could do to a man.

  Away from London, even away from Brighton for the day, in the fresh air and beautiful countryside, Diana felt freer, more relaxed than she could remember being in a long time.

  “Yes, go on, Miss Dunbury, I’ll keep Lady Blount company,” Ash said, moving closer to her.

  Mr. Prentiss and Miss Dunbury turned their horses around to ride back toward the others.

  “How is your afternoon, Ash?” Diana asked.

  “Lovely, now.” He grinned. “I must admit, Diana, it’s torture having you under our roof, knowing you are sleeping just rooms away. You’ve done away with Simon; let me be next.”

  Was he serious? Diana stared at him, alarmed. She pulled on the reigns without thinking, guiding the mare toward the left, away from him. She’d always thought their mild flirtation harmless, the normal tension of society, but he was her friend’s husband.

  She corrected her direction.

  “Ash, you know I love you, darling, but what of your beautiful wife?”r />
  “As she’s been fucking my cousin these past few days,” Ash half leaned out of his saddle to whisper with a grin, “I hardly think she’ll care. She knows I fancy you.”

  Both pieces of information were news to Diana.

  “Do you sleep naked, Di?” he asked. “Tell me you do so I can imagine these luscious breasts of yours.”

  “Ash!” She wasn’t embarrassed. She’d heard, and enjoyed, much more vulgar talk, but she needed to discourage his interest, in as politic a way as possible. Unfortunately, she found herself a bit aroused at his words. After all, she’d been on edge ever since Jason…

  “When we danced last night, I could see the slightest shadow of your nipples. I can’t tell you how much willpower it required to not just pluck you out of your dress and suckle you right there in the ballroom.”

  Diana refocused on Ash, studying him the way she usually assessed men.

  He was of average height, average looks really, but he had that way about him that these noblemen often did, a certain attractive arrogance.

  For just the slightest moment she was tempted. Then she saw Earnestina, laughing at something Dunbury was saying, and the temptation passed.

  “It’s just as well you didn’t, darling,” she murmured. “I would hate to have had to slap you, especially in public.”

  “But in private?” he pressed. Diana bit the inside of her cheek lightly. She was annoyed with this new face her friend had chosen to present.

  “I’ll ask your wife,” she said, finally, surprised when her words didn’t embarrass Ashburton.

  “Do, Diana, as soon as you may, then the sooner I can have you.”

  It wasn’t the sort of statement that deserved a response. He could not have her, but as a friend she’d have to let him down gracefully.