Jasper had one arm gripped around Marianne’s waist as if he intended to pull her out of the cabin, but at the sight of his colleague—and his partner on this expedition—he relaxed his hold and slipped past her into the cabin. “Singleton! I was beginning to think you had missed the boat,” he countered as a brilliant smile lit his face.
Truth be told, he had completely forgotten the man was due to join them for the trip to Sicily. He silently cursed himself for having allowed the events of the day to render him so forgetful.
“I nearly did, my lord,” Singleton replied, daring a glance to where Marianne stood near the door. She had closed it, but had her back pressed against the thick wood as she held the edges of her dressing gown together with clenched fists. “The mail coach from Cambridge arrived later than expected, and by the time I got to your townhouse with the last trunk and arranged a hackney, I nearly missed getting on board,” he continued as he gave a nod. “I’ve brought the trunk you requested from the university, as well,” he added as he pointed to a leather-clad traveling trunk. The scuffed surface betrayed its age and frequent use.
“It was rather sporting of you to make that trip on my behalf,” Jasper said. “Dr. Jones’ latest missive requested we bring it. He’s been on site for a month already, and is apparently impressed with what he’s found so far. Made mention of some Gypsy claiming it was about time he returned to the island.”
James Singleton nodded. “Truth be told, I was beginning to think you’d gone overboard when you didn’t make an appearance at dinner, my lord.” He said this last as his gaze once again darted to the woman who still stood with her back against the door, her brilliant blue eyes wide and still filled with surprise.
Jasper dared a glance back at Marianne and failed at an attempt to hide his blush. He may as well have gone overboard when dinner was being served, seeing as how he was sound asleep at the time, the after-effects of his afternoon with Marianne having left him satiated and sleepy.
She was staring wide-eyed at the blond, blue-eyed intruder. At least she had her dressing gown firmly wrapped around her body, although the silhouettes of her nipples stood out in stark relief against the silk fabric. “Marianne, Viscountess Henley, may I introduce my colleague, James Singleton? He’s become quite adept at clearing debris from tesserae, so he’ll be joining me in my research whilst we’re on the island of Sicily.”
James’ eyes widened before he gave a deep bow, a rather difficult maneuver given the cramped space in the cabin. “Your servant, my lady,” he said, before he aimed an expression of confusion in Jasper’s direction.
“It’s very good to meet you, Mr. Singleton,” Marianne said with a nod, as she finally stepped farther into the cabin. “I’ve only just met a few of my husband’s friends at breakfast this morning. May I be so bold as to ask how long you have known Lord Henley?”
“Just over ten years now, my lady. This will be my fifth expedition with his lordship.”
Marianne blinked at hearing how long the two men had known one another. “Then my husband must find your company incomparable.”
“Oh, I hope so, my lady.”
At hearing Marianne’s reference to him as “my husband,” Jasper wondered at the slight tug he felt in his chest. Her words sounded almost as as if she were proud to be married to him. At no point during his marriage to Sophie had he ever heard her make such a claim without it sounding as if she was ashamed to be married to him.
“I apologize if I seem a bit... discombobulated, my lady,” Singleton said. “I wasn’t aware Lord Henley had taken a wife.”
Jasper rolled his eyes when he realized he hadn’t apprised his colleague about his marriage. The day before Lord Attenborough’s ball, James had left London to secure a particular trunk in Cambridge—the traveling trunk in which he and Jasper had stored their research on the Roman mosaics they had uncovered north of Rome on their last expedition. Some of Dr. Jones’ research from Italy was also in the trunk, as was a book detailing the history of Sicily. “Just this morning, in fact,” he said, referring to his nuptials. He allowed a grin of embarrassment. “Lady Henley and I are on our wedding trip.”
James’ brows furrowed. “Oh, begging your pardon then,” he said as he took a step toward the door. “I’ll leave you to your... wedding night,” he stammered.
“Thank you,” Jasper replied with a nod. “I hope you find your accommodations acceptable?”
His colleague couldn’t help the look of embarrassment that colored his face just then. “Very acceptable. I wasn’t expecting I would have a cabin all to myself. It’s the first door on the right—should you require my... assistance,” James replied as he waggled his eyebrows.
“Oh, I nearly forgot. My father-in-law blessed me with some scotch,” Jasper said, giving the man a quelling glance. He opened the trunk in which the bottles had been packed and pulled one out. He held it out to James.
“Well, I see you’re well equipped for bribes,” James commented before turning his attention to Marianne. “It’s an honor to meet you, my lady,” he added as he gave another bow and made his way to the door. “Best wishes to you both.” He gave another nervous nod to Jasper and took his leave of the cabin.
When the door closed behind the other archaeologist, Jasper threw the bolt and turned around, his head shaking as if in disbelief.
“What is it?” Marianne wondered as she made her way to one of her trunks.
“In all the excitement of the day, I completely forgot about Singleton,” he said with a sigh.
Marianne immediately understood his comment and nodded. “I thought you were being robbed when you opened that door.”
Jasper gave her a sorrowful shake of his head. “I should have expected him,” he murmured, as he watched Marianne pull a nightrail out of the trunk and shake it out.
“For a moment, I thought we were in the wrong cabin.” She straightened and regarded Jasper for a moment before glancing about. There was no screen for dressing or for using a chamber pot. No privacy to speak of.
“I can help you with that,” he offered as he moved to join her.
“Oh, I can manage,” she said, rather uncomfortable with the lack of privacy. “Do you suppose you could... turn around?”
Jasper blinked, but he did her bidding.“I have seen you in all your gorgeous glory,” he murmured, his head angling over one shoulder as he made the comment. He managed to see most of her as she pulled the nightrail over her head, but he quickly turned his head to face away from her before her head poked through the neckline of the gown.
Marianne sighed, not sure how to respond to his claim. She had been so anxious earlier that afternoon, she had barely paid any mind to the fact that he had completely undressed her. As for his claim that he had seen all of her, she rather doubted it. The bed wasn’t large enough. Besides, she would prefer to use the coach pot without him watching. “Will there be someone to see to the laundry, and emptying the...”
“It’s all arranged,” Jasper said as he dared another glance over his shoulder, quickly turning back when he realized she was busy with a bourdaloue. Having never traveled with a woman, he hadn’t considered the need for privacy—or a privy. “And I sent word ahead to have our hostess arrange a lady’s maid to meet us at our villa on Sicily,” he added, not about to mention his concern the woman might not speak any English. Between his Latin, limited Italian, and the bit of Greek he might remember from his days at Cambridge, he figured they could get by.
“That was very kind of you,” Marianne murmured.
Jasper gave a start, realizing she had moved to stand almost behind him. He turned and took in the sight of her with her honey blonde hair down past her collar bones. Her virginal bright white nightrail was at odds with what they’d been doing only the hour before. But what struck him the hardest was how she gazed at him with her brilliant blue eyes. As if she adored him.
Sophie had never looked at him like that.
“It was the least I could do,” he whispered. H
e would have reached out to pull her against him, but one of her hands touched his chest, her fingers smoothing over the lawn of his shirt until she had some of it gathered between her thumb and forefinger.
“Am I to act as your valet on this evening?” she whispered.
Jasper gave his head a shake. “I... maybe... would you mind terribly?” he whispered. “I was hoping you would help me,” he stammered. He was so tired—hungry, too—he could barely stand up, so he was relieved when Marianne pulled his shirt over his head and pointed to the bed.
“Sit down before you fall down, and I shall do my best,” she instructed, pretending not to notice his bare chest. It wasn’t as if she’d never seen one before—she had paid witness to many a farmer threshing his fields sans a shirt. She had never been this close to one before, though.
Well, she had when they had made love, of course, but her attention was on other, more important considerations. Such as his lips and what they were doing to her breasts. His hands and how they traveled over her skin. His manhood and what it felt like buried inside her.
The thought of what he had done to her on this day—her wedding day—and how he had done it had Marianne realizing she was a rather lucky wife. He was a generous lover as well as considerate, minimizing her pain and seeing to her pleasure before taking his own. The least she could do was see to his comfort before he slept.
She had his boots and stockings pulled from his feet by the time he had unbuttoned his breeches. When he pushed them down, she was stunned to find his genitals looking very much like those on the Greek statues decorating her father’s great hall.
“I really am exhausted,” he commented, as if he could read her thoughts. A frown appeared on his face.
Marianne allowed a wan grin, ignoring the frisson that shot up her spine just then. For despite the desire that bloomed at the apex of her thighs, Jasper’s exhaustion was evident.
He was asleep even before his head settled into the pillow, unaware of how Marianne studied his naked body before she turned down the wicks of the sconces and finally joined him on the bed.
Even if they never suited one another during the daylight hours, at least they suited one another in bed. Coupled with their mutual love of kissing, Marianne supposed that was enough.
Chapter 12
A Clear Fortnight for Sailing
The next day
During his last two trips to Italy—both occurring before his marriage to Sophie—Jasper had spent most of the voyages up on deck, reading books, or in his cabin, studying maps of archaeological sites related to his own specialty—Roman mosaics. Evenings were spent at the captain’s table, enjoying spirited conversations about European politics, pirates, and ports of call. Later in the evening, he would read up on the deck until it was too dark to see the printed page. Back in his cabin, he studied the maps of known Roman ruins and planned his travels according to what he sought on behalf of his patrons.
Now that he had a wife to consider, he realized he would have to combine his research with sightseeing—not an impossible task considering where he planned to work. He wondered if Marianne had brought along any books in the two trunks that lined one wall of their cabin.
Jasper was thinking of all this and more before he finally opened his eyes. He turned his head, expecting to find his wife asleep next to him. Seeing only the mahogany paneling covering the wall across the room, he turned the other direction to discover he was the only one in the bed.
“Marianne?” he called out. He sat up in bed and glanced around, alarmed when he realized she wasn’t in the cabin. His gaze immediately went to the table, remembering his comment about how he should have left a note. A square of white parchment, torn from a larger sheet, had been made into a tent. The note, a beautifully scripted missive, simply said she was up on deck.
Well, where else would she be? he wondered. Although he would have liked to hold her for a time before they got up and dressed for the day, he knew there would be other opportunities.
The pitcher of water had been refilled, the bowl emptied, and fresh bath linens delivered. A copper tub, its water still topped with a few bubbles, took up some of the available floor space. He dipped a hand in, stunned to discover it was still warm. How did I sleep through the delivery of a tub? And pails of steaming water? Jesus, did I sleep through her bath? he wondered, rather surprised at the disappointment he felt just then.
The idea of watching Marianne bathe had his cock hardening even more than his morning tumescence. Bathing with her... his squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to quell the thought.
He had never once watched Sophie bathe. He rather doubted he would have ever been welcomed in her bathing chamber.
Jasper stepped into the tub, deciding a quick bath would do him good. The feminine scent of the few bubbles that remained reminded him of Marianne. Inhaling deeply, he decided he needed to discover what had become of her. Perhaps she had already gone for some breakfast, although she wouldn’t know where to go unless she asked one of the sailors.
That thought had him up and out of the tub in an instant, reaching for one of the bath linens at the very moment he heard a gasp from the doorway. He whirled around to find Marianne staring at him, her back pressed against the closed door and her fingers splayed out on either side of her mouth.
“I apologize. I should have knocked,” she said, her eyes wide. One of her hands moved to the front of her body, a pose he recognized in women who were enceinte. Could she already be with child?
Jasper had to resist the urge to laugh at how she pretended not to stare at him. He wrapped the towel around his middle and moved to join her, bussing her on the cheek before he attempted to kiss her on the lips. She turned away before he could, though, which had him confused. “Thank you for leaving the note,” he murmured. “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”
She regarded him through her lashes and allowed a nod. “I am sorry I had to leave you. I wasn’t feeling well, you see. I felt rather ill, in fact, so I went up on deck and—”
“Did you make it to the railing?” he interrupted, his eyes closing as he imagined how hard it would have been for her—she wasn’t wearing her spectacles, nor were they clutched in one of her hands.
“I did,” she replied. “But I fear I left a bit of a mess down the side of the ship.” Her expression suggested she was about to cry.
Jasper dropped his head to hers, unable to hide his humor. “It will wash off,” he assured her. “Come. Have a drink of water. You’ll feel better,” he added, just then aware of how the ship seemed to be riding on rougher seas. “Are we past Brest, I wonder?”
“We are. The captain says the winds favored us last night. We’ll make it to the Strait of Gibraltar before morning.”
Blinking at this bit of news, Jasper wondered if he had missed breakfast. “What time is it?” he asked.
“Half-past eight, but breakfast will be served at nine, according to Captain St. John,” Marianne replied. “He says I should eat something. That it might actually help, although I’m to avoid the fish.” She sighed. “Do you need help dressing?”
Chuckling, Jasper gave a shake of his head. “I can manage, which has me wondering how you did. I didn’t even hear the tub and water being delivered.”
Marianne dipped her head. “I made sure the porters were very quiet,” she admitted. “And I’m not completely dressed. Properly, I mean,” she added, an eyetooth catching her lower lip.
“Oh?” he replied as he did a quick sweep down the front of her round gown. “You appear... dressed.”
She lifted her skirts to reveal she wasn’t wearing any stockings at the same moment Jasper realized she wasn’t wearing any stays, either. The thought of peeling the gown from her body so he could help with her undergarments had him swallowing just then. He wanted desperately to bed her, but remembered he should wait, especially if she wasn’t feeling well.
Gathering her into his arms, Jasper was relieved when Marianne didn’t tense under his hold. She instead
seemed to relax against the front of his half-naked body, her arms wrapping around his middle and her cheek coming to rest on his bare chest. She sighed. “Do you think we could do this every morning?”
Chuckling again, Jasper kissed the top of her head. “I look forward to it,” he murmured. He tightened his hold before letting go. “However, I am starving, and you must be as well,” he said as he moved to open his only clothes trunk. “Captain St. John will think I’m having my way with you if we miss breakfast.”
Marianne blushed a bright red, and not just because Jasper had shed the bath linen in favor of pulling on a pair of smalls and his breeches. He didn’t even ask her to turn around!
Just a few minutes ago, the captain had approached her, asking if he might introduce himself to the “other newlywed.” She had curtsied and held out her hand, intending to shake hands with St. John. He had instead taken her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it before saying, You must be Lady Henley. Please excuse the impropriety, but since your husband is not here to introduce us, let me do the honors. I am John St. John, captain of this ship. I do hope you’re finding your accommodations adequate?
Marianne blinked. Lady Henley.
She hadn’t thought of how she would be addressed now that she was married. Although her father was the son of a marquess and the younger brother of one, she had merely been a “miss.”
It’s very good to meet you, Captain St. John, she had replied with a curtsy. The cabin is rather fine, thank you for asking, but I’m feeling a bit... And it was at that point queasiness had her rushing to the railing and vomiting over the side. That the wind would be blowing such as it was to send what little had been left in her stomach onto the side of the ship was the least of her embarrassment. For when she straightened and attempted to take a cleansing breath, the captain was standing next to her, offering her his handkerchief.
The Vision of a Viscountess Page 11