Chapter Fifteen
Jesse came to her in the gardens. She’d sent a note to him via Levingood, making certain to eschew his manservant, lest any more of their correspondence go hopelessly astray. The day was cold and gray, but she knew a surge of warmth when she saw him striding toward her on the path. She couldn’t help but think of how much they’d been through together, how much he had come to mean to her over the years. What she’d felt for him had initially been a girlish fancy. She’d been too inexperienced and immature to know the difference. But the love that had grown inside her for him was real. It still beat within her racing heart. It had always been there though her hurt had forced her to tamp it down.
He stopped as he reached her, taking her cold hands in his. “What is it, Bella? I came to you as quickly as I could.” His Virginia drawl sent a frisson of desire snaking through her.
She met his vivid gaze. “It would seem I owe you an apology.”
“Indeed?” He raised a golden brow. “I thought it was I who owed you an apology after Clara’s meeting with you. I know she was rather rude to you and your mother both. I have no excuses for her other than that she’s going through a difficult time, having lost her mother and now being so far from the only home she’s known.”
She smiled. That was a rather politic way of putting the girl’s behavior, to her mind. “I think Miss Jones and I have reached an understanding of sorts. We shall get on just fine. I have no doubt of it.”
“I hope so.” He squeezed her hands and raised them to his lips for a lingering kiss. “I wish I didn’t come to you with a wagon full of valises.”
Bella pulled a hand free and pressed it to his whisker-stippled cheek. He hadn’t shaved this morning, she noted, savoring this small intimacy between them. Much had come to pass, but she believed they could mend the cracks between them. She had to hope.
She took a deep breath. “I have some valises of my own in the form of my mother. She took the letters you’d written for me. Every one of them.”
“I see.” He paused, appearing to mull over her revelation. “Your mother likes me about as much as she likes tradesmen, Americans in general, and tardiness.”
His words stole a laugh from her. “I suppose you know her well.”
Jesse searched her gaze. “She merely knows, as I do, that you are far too good for the likes of this ragtag Virginia boy.”
She cast a deliberate glance over the fine, gentlemanly figure he cut. “You’re hardly ragtag,” she pointed out. “I am sorry for believing the worst of you. I never thought my mother would have stooped to such awful meddling.”
“You needn’t apologize, my dear.” His expression grew serious. “I deserved it, leaving you as I did. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”
She pressed a finger over his sensual lips. “Pray, don’t speak of it again.”
He kissed the digit. “I must. I’ve been able to think of precious else since I learned what you’d been through. I would give anything to go back in time and right the wrong I’ve done you. I would never have left you knowing that you were carrying our babe.”
That he had left her so abruptly still hurt, as did the loss of the babe they would never know. But she could empathize with his struggle. She knew the war had taken a toll upon him, and that he likely hadn’t been in a normal state of mind when his past had once again come calling. She also well understood that his honor would demand he return to care for his daughter. And as Cleo had so recently said to her, she knew that if they ever wanted to move forward, their past would have to remain where it was. In the past.
However, before they put their mistakes and misunderstandings behind them, she needed to let him know that she was responsible for the miscarriage. The guilt of her foolish actions weighed her down heavily. Had she never gone riding that day, everything would be different now. She wanted him to know she was at fault.
“I very much regret losing the babe.” The words were difficult to say. “I wish I could change what happened, but I suppose the world is not always ours to command.” She paused, not wanting to reveal the rest to him, but knowing she must. “There is something I must tell you, Jesse.”
Seeming to sense the turbulent emotions churning through her, he put an arm around her waist, drawing her against the comfort of his big, lean body. His hands spread over her back, stroking and soothing as his eyes searched hers. “What is it, my love?”
“I caused the miscarriage.” Bella took a deep, steadying breath. “I was out riding before a storm, and I lingered too long when I ought not to have. My mare startled, I was tossed to the ground, and when I woke, the babe was already gone.”
In the span of days and weeks since that dreadful day, she had purposefully kept thoughts of the babe at bay as best as she could manage. But in the safety of Jesse’s arms, the reality of it crashed over her. She’d never been able to grieve. Not truly, for almost no one had known. The tears came slowly at first, her sobs soul-deep.
“Don’t cry,” he whispered. “You mustn’t punish yourself for what’s happened. You weren’t at fault, darling. We are just beginning, and we have a lifetime waiting for us.”
He pressed a kiss to her cheek and she wept all the more for the gentleness he showed her. Jesse took a handkerchief out of his pocket and used it to wipe at her tears, drying her face. She allowed him to perform the tender ministrations, her heart swelling even more within her breast. He was a good man, scarred on the inside and imperfect as anyone, but a very good man nonetheless.
“Do you forgive me, Jesse?” she asked, wanting to hear it from him. It felt like heaven to be back in his arms. It was where she most longed to be. It was where she belonged.
He was her home, she thought simply. Jesse Whitney was her home, her heart, and the man she would always love more than life itself. Not time, not distance, not her mother, nor anyone else, could come between them again. She vowed it to herself as much as to him.
“There isn’t anything to forgive.” He caught her face, tipping it up to his. “Nothing can take away the pain of loss. I know it well. But together, we can go on, discover the happiness we’ve always been meant to share.”
“Together,” she repeated. “I like the sound of that.”
“As do I,” he said, a slow, knowing smile spreading over the lips she’d grown to love so much. He lowered his head and sealed their mouths in a passionate kiss.
Bella’s arms went around his neck. It had been so long since she’d shared a true embrace with him. She opened to him, moaning when his tongue slid past her lips to taste and claim. Bella kissed him back with every bit of pent-up longing that had been simmering within her for the past few months. Her hat got in the way and she knocked it from her head, not having the patience for any encumbrance, however fashionable it may be. Their kisses turned voracious, as though they could somehow consume one another.
He pulled away, dragging his lips down over her neck, his breath hot and wet upon her eager skin. “Ah, Bella. I’ve missed you so desperately.”
“Not as much as I’ve missed you,” she murmured, holding him tightly against her. She wished she were not trussed up in so many layers that kept her from feeling him as she wanted. As it was, she was impeded by her dolman, walking dress, petticoats and miscellaneous undergarments, and her hated corset. It seemed to be tightening upon her ribcage by the moment.
He sighed, disappointing her by setting her away from him. “Much as I would like nothing better than to take you in my arms and carry you directly to your chamber, I’m afraid your brother will murder me for good this time. And if I have you in my arms for one moment more, I’ll be tossing you over my shoulder and looking for the nearest spot to have my wicked way with you.”
Desire sluiced over her, heady and potent. She hadn’t forgotten what it felt like to make love with him, and now that they were betrothed, their differences mended, she couldn’t wait to share his bed again. Perhaps it was wanton and wrong of her, but she didn’t give a fig. Jesse had ta
ught her how to be a woman in form as well as name, and she wouldn’t return to the naïve girl she’d been for all the gold in the world.
“While I don’t want Thornton to do you harm, I’d like nothing more than for you to carry me away right now,” she said, meaning the words. Since her path in life had been decided, she was eager to plunge headlong down it rather than linger at her brother’s country estate like a young girl waiting for her comeout ball.
He grinned. “You tempt me sorely, but I dare not until we’re properly wed. Come, let us find our way back inside before we’re missed and you’re left with a suitor sporting a broken nose.”
“Very well.” With a sigh, she allowed him to retrieve her hat before following him back to the main house. She could only pray that the weeks until their wedding would fly quickly by, for she didn’t think she could wait a moment longer.
Bella stared at herself in the enormous gilt-framed mirror in her new bedchamber. She wore a nightdress that had been crafted just for the occasion. Her wedding night. Constructed of finest linen and handmade lace, the nightdress was thin to the point of being sheer. Long, white and diaphanous, its sole embellishment was an embroidered set of initials upon her breast that she’d sewn herself, a J and a B. Jesse and Bella. She hoped he would notice before he peeled the garment from her.
The days of proper courtship had slipped by like the scenery outside a train window, torpidly until they at last reached their destination. Thornton had determined the wedding ought to occur before the start of the Season, and Bella had concurred. She hadn’t desired a massive affair. They were married in the chapel at Marleigh Manor, attended by Jesse’s daughter, the disapproving dowager, and Thornton and Cleo. Immediately after their vows, they left for their new home and new beginning in London.
And now, here she was, Mrs. Jesse Whitney at last. A smile curved her lips as she stared at her reflection. Finally, she was Jesse’s wife, and she had to admit that it was wonderful, more wonderful even than she’d supposed it would be. He was her husband. The gold band on her finger, along with the ruby she’d only just become accustomed to wearing, made her feel complete. She was married, and she couldn’t be happier. To be sure, they faced some obstacles. Clara wouldn’t be easy to win over. There would always be his war demons. But Bella felt certain that in time, the rest of their lives would fall into place.
Now all she needed was her groom. The door joining their chambers clicked open, and as if she’d conjured him, there he was. Jesse’s eyes met hers, sending a jolt of awareness through her. A fierce possessiveness surged through her. He was hers.
At last.
He flashed her a wicked grin that brought his dimple out of hiding. Blessed angels’ sakes, he was a handsome man. The mere sight of him, tall and lean, clad in only a masculine dressing gown, was enough to send a pulse of need straight to her core. She was at once eager and nervous for what was to come. She knew now the mechanics of it, the sweeping feelings lovemaking evoked. But she still felt very much a novice, uncertain of what she ought to do.
He surprised her by offering her an elegant drawing room bow as if they were courting in mixed company and not husband and wife, disrobed and alone. “Mrs. Whitney, you are astoundingly lovely.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said, taking up his game with equal formality. She dipped into a curtsy, which felt odd indeed without the proper encumbrance of her skirts and petticoat.
His gaze roamed hungrily down over her. “I surely hope your husband doesn’t know I’m in your chamber.”
She smiled, glad for the levity as it lessened her anxiousness. “If you’re very nice, I shan’t tell him.”
“He’s one hell of a lucky man, that husband of yours,” he drawled, his accent sliding over her as if it were a caress. “And I have a feeling he won’t want to share you.”
She raised a brow, feigning innocence. “Not even with the Duke of Dullness?”
“Most definitely not with the damn Duke of Dullness or anyone else.” He closed the distance between them, striding across the chamber to slide his arms around her waist and anchor her to him. “You’re mine now, Bella.”
“And you’re mine,” she returned, reaching up to run her hand over his beloved jaw.
“May that be a blessing and not a burden to you.” He kissed her palm. “I will do my damnedest to make you happy.”
“You’ve already made me quite happy,” she said quietly, meaning the words. They’d begun their betrothal on uncertain grounds, but she felt confident that they could more than recover. Their love had already withstood loss, distance, and hurt.
“Happiness is a fleeting thing sometimes.” His expression hardened, his tone growing serious. “I know.”
His ghosts continued chasing him about, even now. Her heart ached for him. How she wished he would unburden himself to her completely, for she sensed he still withheld his deepest pain from her. He tucked it away in a box in his mind, but like old letters from someone loved and lost, it remained, a haunting reminder.
“It doesn’t have to be fleeting,” she pointed out, “if we but strive to make it last.”
He caressed her cheek, his gaze hot upon hers. “Spoken like the romantic heart you are. I reckon I ought to be grateful for your sweet disposition, or else you would never have chased this jaded old hide of mine down.”
“I’m certain I didn’t precisely chase you, as if I were a hound and you a hare. I seem to recall you seeking me out in the gardens at Wilton House.” Bella smiled, feeling a surge of love for him all over again. She traced a light path around his sensual mouth with the tip of her finger. “Perhaps you are jaded, but hardly old.”
“Old enough,” he countered. “Christ, I honestly never thought I’d be a married man.”
She raised a brow. “Regrets already, Mr. Whitney?”
“Not a single one, Mrs. Whitney.” He groaned, lowering his head to press his forehead against hers. “I wanted to go slowly this evening, but you make it difficult indeed.”
The temptation proved too strong. She couldn’t resist closing the distance between their mouths for a kiss. He angled his lips over hers, quickly taking control. Bella ceded to him, her arms going around his neck, opening beneath the onslaught of his claiming kiss. She’d quite forgotten how delicious it was to be in his arms. His hands slid down the curve of her back to cup her bottom, pressing her intimately to him until she could feel his hardness against her. An answering ache pulsed between her thighs. She wanted him with a ferocity that almost frightened her. Nothing in her life had ever been so real and consuming, and she knew instinctively that now that they were joined forever, nothing ever would match the way he made her feel.
He tore his lips from hers to kiss down her neck, his hot breath and mouth sending another stab of desire directly to her core. She moaned, tipping her head back to allow him better access. He kissed and sucked his way down to the hollow of her neck before gently scraping the stubble of his whiskers back over the sensitive skin. Bella moaned, clutching at his shoulders and writhing against him. His mouth upon her was sweet, sweet torture. She never wanted it to end.
One of his hands came between them to cup her breast. He pulled away to gaze down at her body, his blue eyes utterly searing as they homed in on their initials. His fingers lingered over the letters she’d stitched, tracing them. “Did you do this for me, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice gruff with emotion.
“Yes,” she managed to say past her madly beating heart. “I’ve never been terribly adept at needlework, but I thought perhaps you’d like it.”
“I love it.” He rubbed over her responsive nipple, working it into a hard peak. “I’m honored to be your husband.”
She gasped as he caught her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, giving it a delightful pinch. “I’m honored to be your wife,” she returned, her breath nearly a pant now. He was working her into a fine frenzy indeed.
“But as lovely as your nightdress is, I want you naked, darling.”
&nbs
p; His pronouncement made another stab of desire pierce through her. He was looking at her as if he could consume her with his stare alone. Though she hadn’t thought it possible, the passion between them was even more heightened, more powerful than it had been before. Her entire body felt as if it were aflame. She was hungry for more, for the ultimate consummation she knew was to come, and yet she never wanted the night to give way to morning. Bella took the skirt of her slip in her hands and began to drag it up over her body until he stopped her, his hands catching hers.
“Allow me,” he said, turning her so that he was presented with her back and the small row of shell buttons there. Ever so gently, he pushed the heavy curls of her hair aside, allowing them to trail down over her shoulder. He kissed the nape of her neck.
She shuddered, closing her eyes as she gave in to his slow seduction. Her buttons began slipping from their moorings. He kissed her throat, the shell of her ear, then lower, creating a trail of heat over the skin he revealed.
“Tonight, I’m going to worship you, Bella,” he said lowly, his tongue flicking out to taste the smooth plane between her shoulders.
She sighed, an answering blossom of warmth spreading in her belly and lower, to the apex of her thighs. The anticipation he was building within her rivaled the heady pleasure of each touch, kiss and lick. His idea of worship was wicked and wonderful, and she loved every moment of it.
Her nightdress continued gaping, cool evening air caressing her back as her husband’s mouth worked a delicious path in its wake. “Jesse,” she protested, his name almost a whisper. “You’re making me mad with this torment.”
“Torment?” He opened another button, pressing a moist kiss to her lower back. “Whatever do you mean?”
He was being coy, the rotten man, enjoying the crescendo he was working her into. How unfair for him to be the only one doling out his breathtaking brand of lovemaking. With a surge of confidence, she spun about. He was crouched, a sinful smile on his lips, utterly still as he awaited her move in their chess game. She couldn’t help but to run her fingers through his hair, loving its silken strands. She had never loved him more than she did in that moment, he on his knees before her. Her very own husband.
Heart's Temptation Series Box Set: Books 1-3: A Steamy Historical Romance Collection (Heart's Temptation Box Set) Page 52