Her lips compressed into a tight, angry line. “I don’t believe you,” she announced with a toss of blond curls. “You’ve never stopped loving me.”
Seth shrugged. “I don’t care what you believe.”
Bright splotches marred the fragile perfection of her face. “You still want me,” she insisted, flinging her shoulders back and thrusting her breasts forward until they strained against the low-cut bodice.
She advanced on him, a cat on the hunt. “Do you think of me when you plow my sister? Pale comparison, I would think.” She brought her hands to his chest, rubbing her palms over him and flexing her fingers like talons. “I’ve learned many things over the years. Including how to please a man.” She wet her lips slowly with the tip of her tongue. “Are you too proud to take what was once denied?”
“Madeline,” Jane’s voice scraped the air like a rusty blade, sudden and startling.
Seth swung around.
His wife stood framed in the threshold, the color high on her cheeks as she surveyed them. Even across the distance her eyes sparkled like sunlit moss, the exact shade of the green muslin gown she wore.
“Jane,” Madeline tittered, slapping Seth’s arm playfully. “You startled us. You should have knocked. Seth and I were becoming reacquainted.” Her eyes flicked over Seth mischievously. “So many years. So much to catch up on.”
Jane’s face reddened further.
An angry heat spiraled through him. Seth’s blood burned knowing what Madeline would have Jane think. The little witch.
His gaze clashed with Jane’s, willing her to see the situation was not as it appeared. That he wanted nothing to do with Madeline. That he would much rather have her in his arms, in his bed.
A fact, he suddenly realized, he was damned well tired of fighting.
Moistening her lips, Jane advanced into the room and pressed a cool kiss to her sister’s cheek. No simple feat when she would rather have clawed her eyes out.
The sight of her sister rubbing against Seth like a hungry cat stirred a host of hot, uncomfortable feelings. Made her feel like a girl again, watching them in the orchard, oblivious to her, to the world. Aware of only each other amid a swirl of apple blossoms.
“You should have sent word,” she said tightly. “I did not expect you.”
“Desmond came to see me.” Madeline’s mouth puckered with censure. “He is beside himself with worry over you. Poor man.”
Seth snorted.
Madeline tossed him a less than friendly glance. “He fears you’ve rushed into this marriage and have made a grievous mistake.”
“The only mistake I made was in living beneath Desmond’s roof for as long as I did,” Jane rejoined.
“Come now, dear.” Madeline sidled near, fingers closing around Jane’s arm like a clinging vine. Jane resisted shaking off the unwelcome touch. “You did not have to marry him.” Her shrewd gaze cut to Seth. “You could have lived with me. You still can, in fact.”
Jane blinked. “I’m carrying his child,” Jane pointed out.
Seth growled low in his throat. “Nice of you to offer now. Where were you when Jane was widowed and forced into servitude?”
“You exaggerate—”
“Not by much,” Jane interjected, her pulse suddenly skittery at her throat. “You knew how things were for me and you never once made such an offer.”
“Jane.” Madeline pouted prettily. “If I thought you truly suffered I would have insisted you live with me.” Madeline squeezed her arm, her sharp nails digging painfully. “As I’m insisting now. You cannot mean to endure this farce of a marriage. Do you really think Seth loves you?” Her eyes gleamed in pity, seeming to say: He cannot. He loves me.
“I’ll stay with my husband,” Jane answered, twisting her arm free and telling herself not to take too much satisfaction in the declaration. They were only husband and wife in name. Not in the proper sense. But at least Madeline need never know that.
“Indeed.” Madeline’s lip curled as if tasting something foul.
“Indeed,” Seth echoed, tucking Jane to his side. Her breath caught at the feel of his big hand sliding around her waist, his fingers splaying over her rib cage. “I couldn’t abide not having her.”
Madeline’s lips worked. “You cannot expect me to believe—”
“I already told you I care not what you believe.”
As if to make his point, he folded Jane into his arms and smothered her lips with the hot seal of his mouth.
Jane froze for the barest moment before melting against him. Her mouth opened, allowing his tongue access. And just like that she was back in the garden again.
His hands slid into her hair, loosening the mass as he plundered her lips. Leaning into him, she clutched his biceps, fingers curling into the sleeves of his jacket as blistering flame shot through her veins. Desire simmered in her belly like liquid heat and she moaned into his mouth.
One hand slid down her back, cupping her derrière through the voluminous folds of her gown.
Loud throat clearing broke the spell, and she jerked her mouth free. Still standing in the circle of his arms, she stared up at him, dazed, mouth throbbing from the assault of his.
His chest lifted with labored breaths, as though he had run a great distance.
“See now, Madeline. I can’t even control myself in broad daylight when guests are present. I simply cannot manage a moment without Jane.”
Jane gave her head a swift shake and glanced at her sister’s livid face. Nostrils quivering in a most unbecoming manner, Madeline stormed from the room, wide skirts nearly knocking a vase from a side table.
After a moment, Jane realized Seth’s arms still hung about her. “You can let me go now.”
His arms fell away.
Jane stood there a moment longer, looking down at her satin slippers peeping from beneath her emerald green gown. She could feel his eyes on her, blistering into the top of her head.
“Why was it so important for Madeline to see that?” Silence answered her and she lifted her face to stare directly into his eyes. “Was it to make her jealous?”
“God, no,” he bit out.
She frowned, unconvinced. She could still recall that day in the orchard when he had been playing Madeline’s knight in shining armor. The love in his eyes had been profound and deep.
“Then why?” she demanded, brushing fingers over lips still pulsing from his kiss. “I wouldn’t have left you. I’ve more honor than that. I carry your child.” Sucking in a deep breath, she pressed. “You haven’t kissed me since we married. Why now?”
He dragged a hand through his hair. “Perhaps I worried she would convince you to leave with her.”
“I would not have gone with her. Even if she knew the truth.”
“And what’s the truth, Jane?” he asked in a quiet voice, stepping closer, his big body crowding her, warming her in the most disturbing way.
The truth? Not that kiss. Not the way he looked at her, with dark fire in his eyes. His kiss was nothing more than a ploy to get back at Madeline.
“Our marriage is one of convenience. You’ve made that abundantly clear.”
Her heart pinched. Before he could read any telling emotion on her face, she turned for the door.
“We need not feel compelled to convince Madeline that our marriage is a grand love affair,” she tossed out, glancing over her shoulder. “It was lovely of you to put forth the effort. Very affecting really.”
He made a sound, perhaps speech, but she could hear nothing else. Not with blood rushing through her head in a dull roar.
“You needn’t play at such pretense again,” she added, ignoring the way a muscle ticked madly in his cheek, indicating she had hit a nerve.
Resolve sealing her heart, she strode from the room.
Chapter 24
Seth walked an uneven line into his room, stopping before the adjoining door to Jane’s chamber and squaring off as though he faced an armed adversary.
The light beneath h
er door glowed, taunting him, beckoning. You needn’t play at such pretense again. Her words echoed in his head, mocking him. Pretense? There had been no pretense in that kiss. His body throbbed at the memory of sucking her tongue deep into his mouth, of fondling that delicious flesh beneath the green satin dress.
With a fierce curse, he swung about and shed his garments with hard, angry movements, never taking his eyes off her door. His sudden movements made his head swim, and he stopped, pressing a palm to his temple. Perhaps he should not have drunk quite so much at dinner. And after.
Only dinner with his wife at his side, her sweet scent drifting toward him, tormenting him, he found the overpowering need to drink—to wash her from his mind, his blood, his soul. Fool that he was, he had thought a snifter of brandy would do the trick. Now, staring at the door that barred her, his wife, the very woman whose charms he ought to feel free to enjoy, he felt only bleak frustration. Nothing would rid her from him. Not as long as she remained near, yet beyond his reach.
He gave his head a hard shake, which only made him stagger sideways. Gripping one of the thick mahogany bedposts, he steadied himself.
He clutched the bedpost in both hands, as though he could claw the barrier down he had erected between them. The barrier he had erected.
He had set forth the requirements of their marriage, had thought he was being wise. Only with the taste of her still burning on his lips, he knew he was the greatest idiot alive. Why had he turned her away when she came to him on their honeymoon? Why hadn’t he embraced what she so sweetly offered?
Shoving from the bedpost, he moved to the door, heart in his throat.
The time to change the rules had arrived.
Jane paced the length of her room, listening, as always, for Seth in the next room. Dinner had been a strain. Since her promise to Julianne, Jane could hardly sit at the same table with Seth.
Julianne glowed, her love for Knightly hovering on the air, unspoken but tangible as heavy fog. Seth had to feel it. The truth would eventually surface. And he would never forgive her for keeping the information from him. It would be another mark against her. One of several.
She started at the sudden rap on the door adjoining their rooms.
“Come in,” she called, the pulse at her neck beating a furious staccato as she watched Seth enter the room garbed only in his dressing robe.
“Seth,” she breathed, wondering if her thoughts had somehow conjured him, wondering if Providence had not sent him to her, presenting her with a chance to confess everything she knew about Julianne and Mr. Knightly.
His expression was stark, almost angry. His eyes gleamed liquid heat, dispelling the notion of confessing all in a cowardly flash. She shifted nervously on her feet.
“I need to speak to you,” he declared, stopping before her.
His gaze slid over her in a slow, body-heating appraisal. The faint scent of liquor wafted about him, mingling with the musky smell of him. Not unpleasant. Still, the smell of alcohol reminded her of her father and the subsequent foul mood it always foretold. The old instinct to run for cover reared its head.
“You’re drunk,” she announced, nostrils quivering as she edged back a few steps.
“Bloody right I am,” he rasped, stalking forward another step. “You, my dear, would drive any man to drink.”
She stiffened. “I’ve done nothing—”
“You exist,” he declared, the heat in his eyes making her heart jump against her chest.
“I—I don’t understand,” she stammered.
Something wild and dangerous glittered in his eyes.
She stumbled back until she bumped the bed and could go no farther. Lifting her chin, she propped her hands on her hips and inhaled, trying to appear taller, more confident than she felt in the face of his strange mood.
“You merely walk into the room and I’m undone.” His words stroked some place deep inside her, made her hot and cold and quivery all at once.
“My apologies,” she snapped, her indignation rising to the fore. “I had no idea my presence caused you such…discomfort.”
His lips twisted in a semblance of a smile. “You have no idea the discomfort you give me,” he rejoined, his voice hard, brutal. A predatory light entered his gaze. “Or perhaps you do,” he challenged, snatching one of her fists from her hip and folding it into his large hand.
Caught off balance, she staggered. Her other hand landed on his chest to steady herself. Immediately, she felt his heart, strong and fast beneath her palm. She shook her head, resisting the urge to flex her fingers, to slide them over him and better explore the hard contours of muscle and flesh beneath his robe. She tugged her fist, but he held fast.
“You’re drunk,” she hissed.
“Quite,” he agreed with a brisk nod, forcing her hand lower, down his chest, down the firm ridges of his belly. “And in great discomfort,” he murmured, flinging her word back at her.
Prying her fingers open, he placed her palm over the erection tenting his robe. Air escaped between her teeth in a loud hiss. Warm fingers circled her wrist, guided her hand to move. Up and down. Up and down. His gaze scorched her, blistering her very soul as he worked her.
He swelled beneath her touch, growing in size. Desire pooled low in her belly. She squeezed her thighs tightly beneath her nightgown, attempting to relieve the growing ache between her legs.
“See what you do to me?” he asked, dragging her palm over him, faster, harder, the stiff feel of him making her breath come harsh and swift.
She longed to feel him without the silk dressing robe. His texture, his heat pulsing in the palm of her hand. No barriers. Slipping her hand inside his robe, she closed her fingers over the naked length of him. Silk on steel in her hand. She ran her thumb over the satin-smooth tip of him. His groan tore through her, thrilling her, emboldening her.
“Seth,” she whispered, scanning his face, the square jaw, the hard lines and shadowed hollows. The throat that worked in speechless wonder at her ministrations.
His eyes blazed down at her, the fire there unmistakable.
An answering flare burned through her blood, her soul, filling the emptiness, the lonely ache that had been there for too long now.
He pulled her to him, lifting her onto her tiptoes and swallowing her cry with his mouth. He drank long and deep from her lips, obliterating her senses. His kiss, his rough hands moving over her arms, flamed her passion.
“Jane,” he rasped, the softness of his lips against hers a direct contrast to the rough sound of his voice. “I tried. God, I tried…”
She shook her head, not understanding the agony in his voice, not able to make sense of his words. The taste of him made her head swirl, brandy and desire, warmth and spice in her mouth. Her shaking hands slid farther inside his loosened robe.
He could have been speaking Greek for all she understood him. Words were beyond her. There was only him. And the delicious things he made her feel. She didn’t want to wonder what brought him to her. Wanted only to savor.
Her palms skimmed his firm chest, curving over warm flesh, velvet skin stretched tight over muscle and sinew. As a girl, she had often watched his body, young and lean, on the cusp of manhood. The sight of him had excited her even then—when she hadn’t a clue what caused the burn in her blood.
Incredibly, it seemed he was hers now. His body, at any rate.
He took her bottom lip between his teeth, biting gently and murmuring against her mouth, “I don’t care what I said.” His hoarse voice stoked the warmth in her belly into a nest of writhing flames. Pulling back, his hands skated up her arms, burning through the thin cotton of her gown. “I want you.”
Delighted relief rippled through her at his words. Words she thought she would never hear from his lips.
His brown eyes burned golden in the lamp’s glow, searing a path directly to her heart. “Tell me you want me to stay. Tell me—”
“I want you to stay,” Jane cut in, closing the distance separating them in one
step. “I want you.” A sob welled up from deep in her chest. “I’ve always wanted you—” Her voice cracked and she turned, determined to hide her face before she completely crumpled before him.
“Jane,” he groaned, hauling her into his arms, showering fierce kisses over every inch of her face before his mouth fell on hers in a savage kiss.
He lifted her in one sweep and dropped her on the bed. Still standing, he shrugged free of his robe and stood before her as she had never seen any man. At Vauxhall it had been too dark, and they had been clothed—for the most part. She had barely made out his face in the shadows. He came over her then, his body a thrilling weight, hard and large upon her. Tonight there would be no darkness.
Her hands roamed his broad back, nails digging into supple skin as he lowered his head to suckle one breast through the thin cotton of her gown. Pleasure-pain lanced through her. His teeth abraded her nipple into a hard point, and she arched against him, crying his name. One of her hands flew to fist in his hair, urging him closer.
Turning his attention to her other breast, he laved her nipple with his hot tongue, inching her nightgown up as he worked.
Cool air licked her calves, her thighs, her hips. With startling deftness, he pulled her nightgown over her head leaving her bare, exposed before him, shaking with both desire and trepidation.
“Jane.” His hand hovered above her abdomen, long fingers splayed wide, shaking ever so slightly. His hair fell over his brow, hiding his eyes as he gazed down at her. She didn’t need to see them to feel their heat, intent and searing on her. Slowly, his hand lowered to cup the slight swell of her belly. “You’re so small,” he murmured.
“Not for long.”
His gaze shot to hers, amusement flickering there. A smile hugged his well-shaped mouth.
She stopped breathing altogether when his head dipped and he pressed a series of open-mouthed kisses over her belly, working his way down her navel.
Warm fingers slid between her legs to tease at her entrance, stroking, spreading her moisture over herself in erotic circles that dragged animal-like mewls from deep in her throat. His finger plunged inside her warmth and she lurched off the bed with a ragged sob.