The Letter

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THE LETTER

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BY

EMMA WILDES

Venus Press LLC

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

THE LETTER Copyright © 2006 by Emma Wildes ISBN: 1-59836-309-3 Cover Art © 2006 by Sable Grey

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without permission, except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. Printed and bound in the United States of America.

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Dedication:

For Chel and her delightful but independent spirit.

Chapter One

The carriage lurched through a puddle of icy, dirty water as it rounded the corner. Inside, Jared Warden tapped his fingers on one knee, a tight grim smile playing on his mouth. This time his willful young wife had gone too far. In a word, his patience had vanished. When the vehicle lurched to a halt, he stepped down and alighted his scathing glance taking in the façade of the dingy building in front of him. Something in his expression—or perhaps it was the way he stalked to the entrance and the ducal crest on his carriage—made the ticket attendant standing there in a dubiously clean uniform simply step back wordlessly and allow him into the theater. Inside it was gloomy and he stopped for a moment letting his eyes adjust, seeing the players on the stage bowing, the sound of enthusiastic applause filling the air. Despite the crowd, he spotted Patricia at once, her gleaming golden hair unmistakable. Since the play was obviously over, she was half-turned and smiling, about a third of the way down the aisles of seats. Sure enough, his informant had been correct, for next to her stood the equally errant Lady Lockwood clapping with vigor, and he could also see Margaret Adair in their little group. His friends could worry about their own wayward wives. At the moment, all he wanted to do was get a hold of his infuriating bride.

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Ignoring the horde of people talking and clapping, and the actors on the stage taking a second bow as the curtain lowered, he made his way forward with a long determined stride. Something, an instinct perhaps that told her of her imminent danger made Patricia suddenly turn and look straight at him. For a second, her smile became even more brilliant as if she was happy to see him, but then her lovely eyes widened and she went very still as he shouldered his way through the throng. Had he been in the mood for mirth, it would have been a bit comical to see the expressions on the faces of all three women as he reached them. Not bothering with as much as a polite greeting, he scooped Patricia into his arms in a flurry of soft skirts, hearing her outraged gasp with satisfaction. Lady Lockwood murmured, “Oh dear,” and he was pleased to see Mrs. Adair looked a little faint. “Ladies,” he said grimly with a nod, and whirled away, carrying his wife back toward the door. The crowd parted and stared in unabashed curiosity to see a man in tailored, expensive evening clothes apparently abducting a young woman from their midst. “Jared,” Patricia said with obvious mortification, clutching his jacket. “Please put me down.” “Not on your life, which at the moment hangs in the balance because I want to wring your pretty neck, my dear. Now, be quiet.” The menace in his tone must have gotten through because she didn’t say another word as he crossed the icy sidewalk and practically tossed her into the carriage. Twin spots of color stained her cheekbones but otherwise she looked a little pale, he noticed with dark satisfaction when he climbed in and settled across from her. He rapped on the roof and they began to move. Stretching out his legs, he gazed at her. She looked like a child caught in a naughty act—which was close to being true—only she wasn’t a child, she was an extremely beautiful woman and the glimmer of defiance in her lovely aquamarine eyes made her even more so. Her slender body quivered slightly as he stared at her, and the smooth, soft curves of her firm breasts above the bodice of her evening gown lifted quickly with each breath she took. Tonight she wore rose silk, which complimented her soft blond beauty and flawless ivory skin. He said coolly, “Did you enjoy the play I expressly forbade you to attend?” “Jared—” “Madame, answer my question.” The color in her face deepened at his acerbic order. “Yes, I did, as a matter of fact. It was both witty and well-acted.” “It is, as I understand it, about a man juggling a wife, a mistress, and a bevy of parlor maids he is also having indiscretions with, am I correct? A bawdy salute to the infidelity of men and the promiscuity of women.” “Well, yes, but put that way it sounds terrible, when in truth it was merely quite funny—” “But not a subject matter I deem suitable for my wife.” “For heaven sakes, I am not naïve. I’ve read books that—”

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He once again interrupted her, something he would normally never do. “I am not your father, who allowed you an exorbitant amount of freedom. The day you became the Duchess of Tellbourne, Patricia, you agreed to obey me. I am obviously tolerant because I have overlooked your escapades so far, but open defiance…public defiance, in fact, irritates me. We have been married only a few months and already you have been dubbed ‘the daring duchess’. I think most of my acquaintances are beginning to believe I cannot control my wife.” The slightly guilty expression on her delicate fine-boned face told him she knew of the nickname. She bit her soft, pink lower lip and her lush lashes, much darker than her pale gold hair, lowered a fraction. “I don’t feel I have had any escapades,” she said finally, a stubborn note in her tone. “I don’t know why you are so angry. It isn’t like I’ve broken any laws or caused a sordid scandal.” “What about coaxing your maid—who is lucky to still be in my employ, by the way—to take you to see a gypsy soothsayer so you could have your fortune told? Or, I think accepting a wager from young Lord Winston, who is openly besotted with you, to climb a tree in a public park smacks of scandalous, my dear.” It still irritated him that Winston had been quoted saying it was worth every coin to have gotten a glimpse of the duchess’ shapely ankles. “It was a friendly bet,” she argued, her chin lifting. “Since when is climbing a tree scandalous? Children do it every day.” “But you are not a child, though I am tempted to treat you like one.” It was true, her independent spirit was normally delightful, but she needed to realize she was someone people noticed, and most certainly lately, talked about. Her radiant beauty alone drew the eye, he could attest to that, but being married to a peer of the realm made her the target for gossip and scrutiny. With icy hauteur, she said, “Don’t worry, you already are treating me like a child. I cannot remember the last time I was scolded like this. Perhaps you should have told me you were a narrow-minded ogre before we were wed.” Considering his mood, it was the wrong thing to say. He moved so quickly she gasped, reaching across the width of the carriage and hauling her onto his lap, turning her swiftly so she was face down across his thighs. She squirmed furiously as he pulled up her long silken skirts, but he held her easily. “Jared, what are you doing? Are you mad?” His wife wore no corset, as it was not necessary due to her natural graceful slenderness. Under her gown she had on only a chemise, and he lifted that lacy garment along with her skirts, exposing her smooth bottom and long legs. The contrast of those two bare, firm mounds above her garters and silk stockings was erotic, as was the intriguing darkness of her female cleft, quite visible with her lovely posterior up in the air. Lifting his arm, he said calmly, “This is for the Winston incident.” His hand came down, not hard, but enough to maybe sting a little. “And this for the gypsy camp, which was damned foolish, as you could have been snatched and sold or ransomed.” She made a sound of pure female outrage as he spanked her again. “This one,” he was enjoying himself now, no doubt about it. The sight of her half-naked luscious body across his lap was having a predictable effect on his libido, if she was not so furious, she would

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undoubtedly have noticed his growing erection. “Is for tonight. I hope you realize that my main concern, not just the content of the play, was the unsavory neighborhood of the theater. The thought of anything happening to you is very disturbing to me, Madame.” He smacked her beautiful buttocks, noticing a slightly pink tint to that mounded flesh now. Patricia fairly panted with fury and he could only imagine her expression. Her glorious blond hair had come partially loose from the confining pins with her squirming resistance and hung down in long waves, brushing the floor of the conveyance as they clattered over the cobbled streets. With a faint sardonic smile, he spanked her once more, and she said in a strangled tone, “What was that for?” “Whatever I haven’t heard about,” he explained with a hint of humor. His hand then smoothed over her bottom, caressing and slowly slipping down to touch her slim thighs, and then exploring in between. He heard her quick intake of breath as he found her sex, brushing her labia lightly, probing the entrance to her vaginal passage with one finger. He slid it inside her and she jerked slightly, breathing out, “What on earth are you doing now, my lord?” “I love your body, my dear. I am indulging my wish to touch it.” “I don’t want you to touch me. Let me go.” “No.” “But we are not in bed,” she objected, her voice changing slightly. “True.” He pushed in farther, testing the satin give of her tissue. The warm heat making him rock-hard. His rigid cock tightly filling his confining breeches. “And that is something else that is going to change. As a new bride, your reticent sensibilities were to be expected and I agreed to keep the room shrouded for your modesty, making love to you only in the dark, properly under the blankets, knowing you needed to be initiated. That’s over now. Sex is a wide, varied world. We are going to explore it together, starting tonight.” Patricia had stopped fighting him and he could hear a swift exhale of breath as he slipped a second finger into her. In fact, he noticed with male appreciation that she spread her thighs slightly to allow him more access as he began a slow, deliberate pattern of arousal. Still face down across his knees, her gleaming hair streaming over her ivory shoulders, she lay quietly; the movement of his hand between her legs seeming to hold all her attention. Wetness began to coat his fingers and he found the nub between those moist folds, stimulating it with skillful precision, feeling it swell slightly. When she moaned and shifted restlessly, he increased the pace until she panted erratically, her bottom lifting in time with his hand. She climaxed moments later, her thighs squeezing together to trap his hand inside, the inner muscles of her passage clenching and rippling around his fingers. The carriage began to slow just as she relaxed with a soft sigh. Withdrawing his hand, he lifted her up, pulled down her skirts, and said mildly, “I think we’re home, darling.” **** Her husband might just be the most autocratic, domineering, wildly attractive man on the face of the green earth.

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Furious—and a little bewildered over what had just happened between them in the carriage, Patricia allowed him to escort her up the steps of the elegant townhouse, knowing her face was still flushed, her body tingling in the aftermath of sexual release. Not to mention that her hair fell in loose waves down her back despite her hasty attempt to find the pins and put it back up. Jared was a talented lover she realized that. Not only had he been tenderly gentle with her ever since they’d been married, but she liked the way he touched and used her body. A friend of hers had once described sex as an obligatory groping in the dark, and that sounded repulsive, so she had been relieved to find that Jared’s attentions were respectful and temperate, his lust obvious but not at the expense of her dignity. Somehow, she had a sinking feeling that was going to change, just as he promised. “The Duchess and I are going straight up to bed,” Jared announced to the servant hovering in the doorway, his meaning clear. “Yes, your Grace.” The footman didn’t blink an eye, but Patricia repressed a small groan of embarrassment over her openly disheveled state. It wasn’t what her husband had said, she realized, it was how he just said it. The way he held her hand, too, was possessive, and he didn’t bother to hide the heavy look in his eyes as he gazed at her and escorted her down the hall and up the stairs. Dismissing his valet, he told the young man to inform her maid she wouldn’t need her services, as he would help her undress. His valet, too, saw the way he pulled her into the room, obviously with no intention of her leaving. It was a world different than him using the door connecting their rooms after she was settled in her bed for the night. In fact, they had never made love in the more formal ducal bedroom, but he always came to her discreetly in her adjoining chamber. The minute they were alone in his room, Patricia eyed her husband warily. His dark promise lingered in the air between them like a palatable presence. Tall, with thick chestnut hair and clean, sculpted features, he was built with lean grace, his wide shoulders impressive, and his legs long and muscular. He was considered to be extremely handsome and Patricia fervently agreed, though his reputation as a rake had made her mother uncomfortable when he first began to court her. His past affairs were not surprising considering his good looks, wealth, and position in society—but Patricia actually trusted him to honor his vows to her now that they were wed, something a little unusual among the aristocracy. Jared had integrity, took his title seriously, and was considerate, most of the time, she thought wryly, recalling the humiliating spanking he’d given her. Perhaps it had been bad judgment to be so impulsive and arouse his ire. In retrospect, he was right; most of the things she’d done had been a little foolhardy. “Here,” he said almost briskly. “Let me help you.” His hands practically spun her around and she felt him brush her long hair aside and expertly unfasten her dress, pushing it off her shoulders, tugging loose the tie to her chemise and pulling it over her head so she stood only in stockings and her slippers. His impatience made a slow unexpected thrill uncurl in her stomach. Not used to being almost nude with him openly staring at her body, she flushed. “Jared, I know you are angry with me, but couldn’t we douse the lights? I am not comfortable with this.” “No,” he said succinctly, his dark gaze fastened pointedly on her bare breasts. “Take off the rest now, my love. Your stockings; hold on to those.” That unusual request, coupled with the fact he disrobed at a record pace, made her a little uneasy, but Patricia complied, stepping out of her shoes and peeling off her garters and silk stockings. Not truly ever

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seeing his aroused body, she was startled at the sheer size of his erect penis, the swollen tip glistening in the lamplight. “Oh, my goodness.” He laughed when he saw her fascinated stare, sweeping her up suddenly into his arms and carrying her across the room. His body felt like it always did, hot, firm and large, but there was something different, and she realized it was his open and unconcealed desire and their visible mutual nakedness. Pinning her down on the big bed, he deliberately took the stockings from her hand and without warning, pulled both her arms above her head. Before she knew what he was doing, he’d tied her wrists together with one silken bond, and then used the other to fasten her bound hands to the bedpost. “Look at these glorious breasts,” he said with undisguised appreciation, lounging next her as she lay in shocked supine bondage. Palming her uplifted right breast, he squeezed it slightly, making the nipple rise. “So perfect, my beautiful Patricia. Do you have the slightest notion of your incomparable allure? Do not take this amiss, because I admire many things about you, but the first thing I noticed was your completely perfect bosom. I dislike overblown breasts and yours are the right size, so high and full but not overly large. Look at the sensuous shape and how pale and smooth they are. Can you blame me for wanting to touch them?” “I’m not sure about any perfections I have,” Patricia retorted, feeling his fingers begin to caress, her eyes drifting half-shut with the pleasure of his deft touch, “but I do know I don’t understand why you decided to tie me to the bed. I have never denied you your husbandly rights, Jared, and even though we quarreled this evening, I never would.” “I tied you because I like the sight of you bared and submissive. I find it arousing. Tell me the truth,” his dark gaze was steady and probing as his long, strong fingers cupped her pliant flesh, “when I spanked you back in the carriage, did it excite you?” Admitting that it had was out of the question. She quickly shook her head against the tangled length of her hair. “I’m sorry, my dear, daring duchess, but your body can’t lie, didn’t you know that? You were getting wet already, well before I put my fingers here.” His free hand found the intimate place between her legs and touched her, while the other continued to toy with her breast. “Wet?” she gasped as his fingers probed her sensitive cleft. He explained, a small smile on his well-shaped mouth, “All these past nights since we married and engaged in conjugal relations, the reason I kissed you and touched your breasts was not only for my pleasure, but so your body would ready to accept me. When I touch here,” his fingers delved between her folds, gently rubbing a spot that made her breath catch in her throat, “it is so you become interested, shall we say, in my attentions. When you are wet, sex is pleasurable, if you aren’t it hurts a woman. I am interested in your pleasure.” “This education is fascinating.” Her words were almost vague. All her attention was centered on the dual stimulation of her breast and the growing ache between her legs. Her wetness was certainly not in question, for she could feel the seep of arousal with the slick motion of his fingers. “And long overdue. My fault, of course, as I am the more experienced of us. Accept my apologies, but I have obviously never been married before either. I thought being a gentleman in bed with my wife was the proper thing to do. Not so,” his voice dropped suggestively, “since spanking apparently stimulates

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you.” So did his roving hands, of that there was no doubt. Patricia watched helplessly as her husband leaned over and began to suckle her nipples, one then the other, feeling them harden in the heated recess of his mouth, tightening into puckered straining peaks. His hair, so thick and soft, brushed her sensitive flesh and she longed to run her fingers through it. It felt decadent to have her prone body at his disposal, and when he drifted lower and licked a determined path down her stomach, she wanted to object but couldn’t. Somehow he was right, being the consummate gentleman had not raised in her the level of humming excitement she felt now under his dominant masculine control. His mouth grazed her pubic hair. Her heart suddenly slammed in her chest as she felt his warm breath on the apex between her thighs. As she watched, he lifted one leg and bent her knee, setting it down with her foot flat on the bed. Doing the same with the other and pushing her knees wide apart, he leaned between her open legs. “This is something I have been longing to do, but was afraid it would shock you,” he said thickly, staring at her exposed and available sex. Leaning forward and cupping her bottom, she felt the invasion of his tongue insinuating itself between her delicate folds as he lifted her to his mouth. A low cry escaped her lips, as he tasted her slit with exquisite care. Every nibble in that outrageous place made her moan despite her ladylike conviction that it was wrong for him to put his mouth there, and worse, for her to make her enjoyment so vocal. Using his tongue, he penetrated her female opening, pushing wickedly inside her with long, wet strokes. It was shameless, but she spread her legs open as far as possible as the pleasure built, her short, labored breaths filling the air. Jared’s eyes were closed, his lashes stark on his cheekbones as he tortured and fulfilled her body until she rushed into a place of glorious, mindless release, screaming his name as the sensation surged and rocked within her. Patricia felt the trembling aftershocks for what seemed like forever. He gently squeezed her inner thighs, lightly kissing her damp pubic hair until she relaxed with a final deep sigh. When he moved over her, she willingly spread her legs to accept his penetration. Jared’s face was starkly intent as he pushed his rigid penis inside her now satiated body. When they had made love before, he’d always moved slowly, holding her close and loving her with soft words and gentle pressure until he finally stiffened and released his seed. This time was entirely different. He moved with impetuous, complete hunger, thrusting into her so hard she shifted backwards on the soft sheets, sliding toward the bedpost. Bracing herself with her bound hands, Patricia held herself still for his insistent passion; the soft wet sounds of intercourse interspersed with her whimpers of pleasure. It felt glorious, she decided in almost dreamy reflection. To mate in such wild fashion and the fact he wanted her so much gave her a heightened sense of feminine power despite her submissive state. He climaxed with almost beautiful force, his final push bringing them together in fierce contact as he ejaculated with a low groan. The long length of his shaft was as far inside her passage as possible, powerfully pulsing and flexing. Her eyes drifting closed, still bound to the bed, Patricia smiled. “Perhaps,” she whispered huskily, “I need to have more escapades, my lord.”

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Chapter Two

Despite the early February snow that sifted what seemed indefinitely from steel gray skies, Jared felt quite cheerful as he entered his solicitor’s office, shaking the moisture from his hair. “Good afternoon, George.” Thickset and dark, with shrewd light blue eyes, the man sitting behind the desk looked surprised. “Jared, how are you? My assistant said you were here. If this visit is about those shipping contracts, we’re still waiting on one signature. I’ll bring them to you as usual, of course, when they’re all in order.” It was true, since Jared was a busy man and held George Carlton on retainer to handle the legal aspects of his many holdings, they usually did business in Jared’s study. “I was out already,” Jared said, “and thought I’d take a chance on you being here. This is about an entirely different matter.” “I see. Please, sit down then. Brandy?” “Certainly,” Jared lifted a brow and sat down comfortably. Unlike his own well-kept desk, George’s office overflowed with piles of paper, open legal books, and scattered half-empty cups of tepid tea. It would drive him insane to spend his day in such a disorderly mess. He was not sure how on earth George ever found anything in the chaos, but the man was an excellent solicitor, and to his knowledge had never lost an important document. They had actually attended school together and known each other since childhood. George, being the youngest son of a baronet, took law because he needed to earn a living. Rummaging on a shelf behind a haphazard stack of boxes, his friend eventually emerged triumphantly with two balloon glasses of brandy and handed one over. Jared accepted with a nod of thanks and George settled back behind his desk, taking a sip and asking delicately, “How is the duchess? As beautiful as ever, I am sure.” “Actually, I’m here about Patricia.” Jared admitted, lifting his drink. “You aren’t wanting to petition for divorce, are you?” George asked dryly. “I hear she is leading you on a bit of a merry chase. Your rather public removal of her person from a certain questionable theater last evening made the society section of this afternoon’s paper.” “Hell,” Jared muttered, sinking a little lower in his chair. “I was afraid of something like that. Still, I definitely got my point across, so I suppose it’s worth a few more whispers.” “Husbands everywhere applaud you, I’m sure.” A chuckle rang out. “Go ahead and laugh, George. Blood and thunder, I can’t follow her around every second of the day—she has to have a sense for own safety, not to mention propriety. I guess my mistake was thinking

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if I simply told her to not attend the play, she would listen to me.” “Since I can’t picture you being satisfied with a meek, spiritless woman, perhaps her sense of adventure is what appeals to you,” George suggested diplomatically. “Get her pregnant as soon as possible. That will settle her down, and I can’t imagine it would be an unpleasant chore.” Remembering the unbridled passion he had shared with his young bride the night before made Jared smile inwardly, all his irritation with her gone. He’d simply and plainly fucked her—no doubt about that, since there had been no flowery words of love and not even so much as a kiss. Patricia had responded to the basic carnal approach with surprising abandon and he was a little curious to see what else would make his lovely bride wild in his arms. Later, they had made love with slow, insistent need and she had enjoyed that too, much more than she ever had before. But that first time had been explosive. In fact, he had a few ideas of what else might please them both. He could still picture her laying there, her splendid breasts uplifted and displayed because of her hands being bound above her head, her slender form framed by the spill of her soft waist-length golden hair, those aqua eyes half-veiled by her lashes as he thrust into her warm, receptive body… In a noncommittal tone, Jared said, “That’s good advice and I am working on it. Let’s just say we discussed her disobedience in a horizontal position and she seemed inclined to take my point of view.” George laughed out loud, his shrewd eyes amused. “As a married man, I find a disagreement often makes for a pleasant resolution myself. Now, what can I do for you? I take it from your current expression that my jest about divorce is the furthest thing from your mind.” “I’m unfashionably taken with my wife,” Jared admitted. “And as you say, you have been married quite some time. I want to get her something special, a gift. The Tellbourne jewels are extensive and she can choose from an entire vault of assorted jewelry, so that seems redundant. Her allowance is generous so she lacks for nothing, which is what I want, of course, but it makes it difficult to purchase anything for her. If you have any ideas, I would appreciate it. As you know, I can afford to indulge her.” “Hmm…a challenge. What does one of the richest men in England buy his new wayward, but beautiful, bride?” Draining his brandy glass, George frowned. “I will have to ponder this, and perhaps consult with Lila. She, as a woman, might think of something that we would never imagine. Females are interesting—if distracting—creatures. There is no doubt they do not think as we do. My wife might come up with an idea for your young duchess, Jared.” “I wish it to be a surprise to celebrate the beginning of our married life. Hence my visit here to ask your advice, I implicitly trust your discretion.” George smiled comfortably, leaning back in the chair behind his cluttered desk. “I think, my friend, your married life is going to be full of surprises.” **** Sinking lower into the warm water, Patricia sighed. It was snowing again outside, and though there was a lively fire in the hearth of her bedroom, she had felt chill from what was almost a week of incessant bad weather, so she had ordered up a hot bath. The water felt soothing and she blissfully reclined back, not even opening her eyes when she heard her maid come in, quietly shutting the door behind her. She murmured, “I am not ready to get out, Mary. Give me another half an hour, or so, will you? I’ll ring when

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I need you.” “I rather hoped you’d need me on a constant basis, my lady.” The sound of the rich, deep voice made her eyes open instantly and she half sat up in surprise. “Jared?” “I certainly hope no other gentlemen wander freely into your boudoir.” “Of course not,” she stammered, off balance by his unprecedented intrusion into her bedroom in the middle of the afternoon, staring at him. Her husband was dressed very casually for him, in a white shirt, tight black breeches, and Hessian boots. Normally every inch the royal duke, he almost never went without a perfectly tailored jacket and cravat, even at home. “ Youdon’t even wander in here,” she pointed out, slipping back down, suddenly aware of her bare, soapy breasts above the water. “Usually I don’t see you all day.” “My mistake.” His dark gaze studied her with lazy, level male assessment. “If I had known you were wet and naked at this time of the afternoon, I am sure I would have adjusted my schedule long ago to accommodate a conjugal visit.” Her pulse began to race, his suggestive meaning clear, and she couldn’t seem to help it, memories from the night before flooded back. He had given her acute and incredible erotic pleasure and the difference in the way he treated her, as an object of his sexual desire, was vividly fresh in her mind. “You can’t be serious. Now?” “Completely serious.” Moving forward, Jared knelt by the tub, leaning over to kiss her, his mouth moving lightly against hers. The barest touch of his tongue tasted her lower lip. “I want you,” he said frankly, leaning back on his heels and unbuttoning his cuffs to roll up his sleeves. “Here, to expedite the process, let me help you finish. Since you know my affection for them, let me wash these.” The glide of his hands over her wet breasts was divine. He lifted the supple weighted flesh, shaping and holding it under the warm water. Patricia wasn’t sure if she had died and gone to heaven, but it seemed more likely some sort of pagan paradise. Her nipples rose instantly from the sudsy water, pointed and aroused at his insistent touch. Leaning her head back, she swallowed hard, giving herself over to the magical feeling of being caressed and the knowledge that he was going to make love to her at this unusual time of the day. The sound of the door opening barely registered, but Patricia felt her husband’s hands go still. Then he said calmly, “I’ll help the duchess with her bath. Please see we aren’t disturbed.” Realizing that her maid stood in the doorway her mouth hanging slightly open before she hastily retreated, Patricia felt a wave of mortified heat rise into her face. “Oh God.” “We’re married,” Jared said, looking completely unembarrassed, continuing his supposed ‘help’ with her bath. “Married people make love, darling.” “She saw you touching me like this,” she whispered. “You do realize in seconds everyone in this house will know what we are doing.” “So?” A laugh lighting his handsome face, he said, “For someone so prone to impulsive adventure, my dear, you are modest to a fault. Here, I think you are superbly wet, lovely and ready. Out of the water, dearest, and we’ll proceed.”

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At his urging she stood, water streaming off her body, still feeling acutely embarrassed by being caught with her husband’s hands holding her breasts—though she supposed he was right, they were husband and wife and sexual relations were to be expected. Jared wrapped the towel around her body and lifted her in his arms. Taking her to the bed and laying her on her back, he dried her slowly, deliberately rubbing the cloth over her damp flesh as she gazed up at him. Unless a person was blind they could see the impressive bulge in his tight breeches. She felt a scandalous wish for him to tie her up again and use her like the night before. She also, she reminded herself quickly, liked it when he held her and loved her the other way, with more finesse and less urgency. “Unpin your hair. I like it loose so I can touch it.” A small shiver of anticipation rippled through her body and she obeyed, shaking out her heavy tresses. “Let’s take care of this first.” Jared pulled a small black silk sack out of his pocket. “Take care of what?” Curious, she raised up on her elbows, watching as he extracted a small, slim metal object. There was also a tiny vial that slipped into his palm. “A little fantasy of mine,” he explained in a teasing husky tone. “Spread your legs, darling, and stay very still.” “What?” Considering he was still fully dressed and she was completely nude in the middle of the day, a slight flush touched her cheeks. “Lay back and don’t move.” The order had an edge of authoritative aristocratic privilege that she had heard before, but not usually directed at her. Although it seemed decadent and unnatural, she did as she was bid, slowly opening her thighs a little. Jared, however, wanted nothing but complete capitulation and he put his hands on her knees, gently separating them. To her surprise, he then trickled the contents of the vial across her cleft. The substance was slick as he smeared it over her sex with long-fingered hands. “Now,” he said with a husky note to his voice, “this is sharp, my love. Relax. I want to see you bare.” The object in his hand was a razor she realized when she felt the first gentle scrape against the tender skin of her labia. Not sure if she was intrigued or appalled, she let him shave her pubic hair, even to the point when he lifted her bottom slightly. He took his time, careful and intent, and Patricia submitted once she realized what he was doing, not wanting a nasty cut on that particularly sensitive part of her body. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t read of women who removed all the hair from their bodies. In fact, in some cultures it was considered common practice. It was just a little unsettling that Jared wanted her to do so. When he finished, he took the towel and gently wiped away the residue of the lotion, and then stood back, his stare fastened between her still open legs. “Perfect,” he breathed. “You want this?” To her own surprise, she slightly opened further in explicit invitation under that heated scrutiny. She felt an intoxicating desire in every pore of her body and it gave her the courage to ask the question in a sultry seductive tone.

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“Hell, yes,” he said inelegantly. His hands went to his breeches, his handsome face taut with need. “Now?” Breathless suggestion colored her tone. “It seems the perfect time.” “I’m probably wet enough,” she admitted without shame, knowing she was. Her breasts felt tight and full and her cleft tingled from what he’d just done. “I think I’d like you to hurry.” “I know I’d like to hurry.” His engorged shaft confirmed his hoarse words, rising hard from the opening in his fitted trousers as he jerked the buttons loose. Without bothering to remove his clothes, or even his boots, he lowered himself over her. Patricia felt the inexorable prod of his erection at her entrance, stretching and filling her. He went impossibly deep and she arched to take him, her hands on his shoulders, clutching the hard muscles through his lawn shirt. When he was fully inside her, she could feel the slight abrasion of his fine, wool breeches on her inner thighs as he began to withdraw, the friction somehow very arousing. Jared kissed her neck, his mouth hot and possessive, thrusting back into her burning passage. “My God, love, you are so tight and yes, very wet. Tell me how good this feels.” She clung to him, lifting her hips so he could go as far inside her as possible. “I don’t think,” she gasped, “I can speak right now. Oh, yes, like that.” Her lashes drifting lower, she felt a rising sense of tremulous excitement, and since the night before he’d taught her just how intense it could be, she wanted it with lustful abandon. Her body seemed to pulse in time with his increasingly urgent thrusts and dimly she could hear her own frantic moans. His warm breath fanning her cheek, Jared too, made low sounds of satisfaction with each long stroke of his shaft. A liquid heat seemed to suddenly flow through her, straight into her belly and lowered to center between her legs, flooding her with volatile purely physical joy. Her body trembled and she buried her face against her husband’s chest with a low primal scream of release. Seconds later, he braced himself and shut his eyes, every muscle in his lean body quivering as Patricia felt the forceful expulsion of sperm against the mouth of her womb. When he finally opened his eyes and gazed down at her, his smile held a hint of satisfied male arrogance. Leaning down to kiss her, his mouth moved sensuously against hers, and he murmured, “I might find your impulsiveness irritating occasionally, darling, but your tempestuous nature is to my advantage in the bedroom.” “You are a little tempestuous yourself,” Patricia pointed out, arching a brow. She could feel his cock inside her, still amazingly stiff and huge. His shirt was slightly damp under her fingers from the exertion of their joining. “I would wager most gentlemen remove their clothing before making love to their wives.” Jared kissed her again, his lips lingering on hers. “No more wagers, my dear, if you please. It isn’t ladylike.” “Oh, and this is?” Patricia murmured back teasingly. “I am currently lying beneath you completely naked in the middle of the afternoon.” “This,” her husband said with thorough conviction, “is perfectly acceptable behavior. You have my permission to lay naked beneath me at any time.”

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She couldn’t help but laugh, lowering her lashes in mock demure deference. “You are very generous, your Grace.” “I try to be,” Jared grinned, looking a little gorgeously tousled, his chestnut hair curling over his collar, “a good husband.”

Chapter Three

The party was a bit of a nightmare. The ballroom was crowded, the music muffled by the sound of hundreds of voices in conversation. Squeezing past a group of elderly matrons that shot her speculative glances, Patricia smiled pleasantly and nodded with what she hoped was regal grace. Being married to a man as important as the Duke of Tellbourne was occasionally a burden as well as a privilege, and being his notorious ‘daring duchess’ was not much fun this evening. Popular opinion seemed divided between complete approval of Jared’s high-handed tactics in enforcing his authority, and the women who admired her ability to assert her own spirit. A secret wicked memory made her smile widen slightly, despite her discomfort over the whispers and avid eyes. Jared might have been born to a vast fortune and the responsibility to an ancient lineage of title and princely blood, but he was most certainly not immune to the pleasures of the flesh. Their scandalous afternoon interlude was fresh in her mind. Scandalous. Coming back to reality, she winced a little inwardly. Being the brunt of so much inquisitive attention, Patricia realized that maybe society did pay a little more notice than she thought to what she did. Obviously everyone knew about the play, and her flaunting of Jared’s direct order not to attend, plus her mortifying removal from the theater. If she looked at it pragmatically, he had every right to be angry to have their first quarrel be so public—and no matter that they had made up nicely—it was all a little off-putting. “Well, well, if it isn’t the Duchess of Tellbourne.” The saccharine sound of that purring female voice made her glance up. At once Patricia stiffened, stifling an inward curse at her ill luck. Coolly, she responded, “Lady Black. How are you?” “Oh, I’m well, of course. The question is, how are you, dear child?” Alicia Black wore a daring red gown that would have looked ridiculous and tawdry on anyone else in the crowded ballroom, but suited

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her dark beauty perfectly. Her beautiful face was pulled into a completely insincere moue of concern. “I hope Jared wasn’t too harsh with you last night. It might be crass of me to mention it, but it sounded like an unfortunate scene.” “Yes,” Patricia answered in a clipped tone, not bothering to define if it was unfortunate, or if she though Alicia was crass. Languidly moving her fan, Lady Black, tall and supple, glanced around. “It is difficult enough to be newly married—having everyone talking behind their hands must be awful. Jared looks quite unhappy.” Surely, Patricia thought, beginning to feel slightly sick inside, the rumors that her husband had once had this woman as his mistress were false. However, there was no doubt of the way Lady Black spoke of him with familiar knowledge, as if she wanted to rub it in Patricia’s face. And the nasty woman was gorgeous, she admitted grudgingly, though it pained her. “We had a misunderstanding. It happens.” “Oh yes, I do know, dear, as I’ve been married for years. Your trouble is that Jared is actually a passionate man under that cool, sophisticated exterior.” The barely veiled malice in that remark went a little too far. Patricia opened her mouth to retort, only to see a distinguished looking older gentleman join them, his hand drifting downward to rest on Alicia’s arm. He said pleasantly, “Good evening, Duchess. My goodness, that dress is lovely. Alicia told me how much she admires your youthful beauty. Tellbourne is a lucky man.” If there was anything worse than having to pretend politeness to Jared’s former lover, it was trying to be cordial to the man he had obviously cuckolded. In a strangled voice, she said, “Thank you, Sir Henry. Lady Black, always a pleasure to see you, but you’ll excuse me, I’m sure.” “Of course.” He smiled and inclined his head. Escape could be the only word for the way she bolted through the crowd, until a cool hand grabbed her arm and Ava Lockwood tugged her back toward a small empty space near a pillar. “I have been dying to see you.” “I’m not surprised we’ve missed each other so far. Jared and I arrived about an hour ago, and I haven’t seen him since. What a crush.” Patricia fanned herself wildly. Lady Lockwood was a petite brunette, pretty and vivacious, with wide brown eyes. When they had both come out the same season, they had become instant friends and engaged to their new husbands at nearly the same time. Ava said urgently, “I was so worried last night, Patricia, the duke’s face was like thunder. He is always so charmingly polite and coolly self-possessed. I almost fainted when he swept you up and stalked out.” “He was angry,” Patricia confessed. Ava nodded. “My husband wasn’t pleased either, but since I had not asked to go, I hadn’t actually defied him. Though, he said he might take a lesson from Tellbourne if I ever did something like that again, and I prefer to not be carried out of a public place like a sack of meal, so no more plays. What did the

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duke do once you were alone?” Someone jostled her elbow and Patricia edged back a fraction. Their pillar wasn’t exactly secluded, so she lowered her voice as she responded, “He…well…he,” she couldn’t help her vivid blush, “scolded me most wonderfully all night long.” Comprehension dawned. “Did he?” Ava smothered a laugh with one gloved hand, her eyes gleaming with amused shock. “Oh, my. All night?” “It was well-worth the stares I have been receiving all evening, believe me. He is tireless and endlessly inventive.” Looking past her shoulder, Ava suddenly said quickly, “Patricia—” “I believe they are starting a waltz and I have been looking for you.” Patricia jumped in a slightly guilty start, hoping he hadn’t overheard her confidences. Tall and starkly good-looking in severe dark evening clothes, Jared took her elbow and nodded to Ava. “Good evening, Lady Lockwood. Please excuse us as I snatch my wife away once again from your presence.” “Of course, your Grace.” There was a mischievous twinkle in Ava’s brown eyes as she watched them go. Letting him guide her to the dance floor, Patricia didn’t get a chance to say a word until he swung her expertly into the swirling throng of dancers. Lowering her gaze to stare at his perfectly knotted cravat, she asked cautiously, “You insisted we come. Did you realize everyone would be so...so…” “Yes,” he answered shortly, though his smile never faltered. “Hence our presence. However, I am getting tired of everyone looking at me like a museum exhibit of some sort of extinct creature. Our antics have given the haute ton enough fuel for the gossip chain to last me a good long while. Now, I am going to hold you a little too close for decorum, just to show my devotion. And you are going to flutter your eyelashes at me like a new young bride should, and then we will take our leave after proving there is nothing amiss in our relationship. Is this understood?” Since he sounded quite understandably annoyed all over again, Patricia nodded obediently. When his arms tightened as promised and he whirled her gracefully along, she didn’t have to dip to far into her acting skills to gaze up at him with a heightened awareness of him as a man and a lover. Her fingers slid just a fraction from his broad shoulder to brush his jaw, and he looked slightly startled, his gaze flaring as it locked with hers. That open caress would not go unnoticed, Patricia was sure of it. As they danced, the room seemed to fade away, even with all the fervent observation, and suddenly there was nothing but the two of them. His hands held her with capable strength, leading her in the sweeping steps. Patricia looked into his dark eyes, willing him to see both her desire and her love. For the truth was, since the day she had met Jared Warden, she had been head over heels in love with him. The problem was, he seemed to want to avoid actual discussion of that particular subject, and so she hesitated to blurt out her overpowering feelings. She always felt naïve around her cultured, handsome husband. Even when he had proposed, he had never said he loved her. It had been more that he admired her beauty, that she was very suitable, that they had a deep physical attraction he thought valuable in a

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marriage. As a romantic nineteen-year-old, she had managed to translate that into the same thing. But as a married woman months later, she now knew he had never said he loved her, and it was not at all the same thing to be admired and desired. She was considered beautiful. On her debut, she had figured that out quickly, and obviously Jared liked beautiful women. At thirty, it had been time for him to get married and sire an heir. It was logical that he chose someone he was attracted to, from a proper background. She was flattered that he had chosen her out of the bevy of ton beauties vying for his notice. In fact, Patricia had been quite star-struck to find the most eligible bachelor in London suddenly her fiancée and then her husband. He often called her affectionately ‘my love’ but he had never looked into her eyes and told her that was how he felt. Certainly, as the daughter of an earl, she was suitable enough, but why choose her? She would make him fall in love with her, she vowed in a silent oath for the hundredth time. If it meant being a vixen, someone who would fulfill his every sexual whimsy, then so be it. Since their little confrontation over the play, she felt closer to him in less than twenty-four hours than in several months of marriage. This afternoon had been the first time he had ever taken off part of his busy afternoon schedule to spend time with her—and that had been in bed. The truth was, she had made the same assumption he had—that what the exalted Duke of Tellbourne wanted was a demure, shy bride, one who would most certainly do her duty and accept him in her bed, but not enjoy sex like a common strumpet. But he liked it when she liked it—there was no doubt about it. So she intended to enjoy it a very great deal. **** In the past, Jared would let Patricia retire into her own room, listen to the murmured conversation between her and her maid through the closed door as she undressed while he drank a cognac. When it became quiet in the adjoining room, he would don his dressing gown and go to her. She would be in bed already, sometimes sleepy, sometimes expectant, but always under the cover of the bedclothes. Her nightdress was always fastened primly at her throat, her long, soft pale hair spread enticingly over the pillow. He would make love to her then in subtle gentle penetration and semi-darkness, all sounds muted. But that was not the scenario for this evening. True, they had both gone into their respective bedrooms, but this time it had obviously been Patricia who had been listening, for the moment he dismissed his valet, the door had opened. When she came through, he caught his breath sharply at the sight of her gleaming nude body. Her long legs caught by the leaping firelight in the marble hearth, the apex between them that he had shaved bare, so pale and extravagantly female. Lovely and slender, her magnificent breasts swayed just a trifle as his wife walked toward him. A legion different from the uncertain young woman he had married and bedded these past months. It was as if a goddess had been born suddenly, flung to the earth like Venus rising or Aphrodite gifting a humble planet. Her pale hair, enviously long and silky, hung to her hips in long tumbling curls, and her eyes veiled by her thick lashes. If she was self-conscious, it only showed in the fact she hesitated briefly when she was a few feet away, and came to a faltering stop. “Were you intending to sleep alone, my lord?” she asked, a barefoot dream clad only in blond hair. “Or am I welcome?”

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“Always, Madame,” he said truthfully and automatically, not imagining a circumstances in which he—or any other man—could turn down such a vision of pure seductive beauty. “I’m glad to hear it.” Even her tone was different, more mature, and a little husky as if she were testing her newfound sexuality. He had no objections. None at all. In fact, he already swelled and readied for her, like a randy young boy. “This evening was,” she seemed to search for a word, and found with a slight grimace, “excruciating.” “We had to go,” he explained for the second time, his gaze fastened on the pink peaks of her perfect breasts. “Braving out rumor is the only way to survive in society. Since we appeared in marital accord, the rumors will die down and the gossipmongers will move on to devour someone else. Trust me, it is over.” “You aren’t angry?” He remembered the feather touch of her fingers on his face during their dance. The way she looked at him, her luminous aqua gaze unfathomable. Jared said, “Let’s say the whole atmosphere temporarily resurrected my exasperation. I will get over it.” “If you wish to punish me again like in the carriage, I understand.” Taking in a breath, that suggestion sent the blood straight to his groin and his cock lengthened a few more inches. Her eyes had always drawn him, the color so unique and pure, like the seas in the southern world, not green and not blue. Patricia looked at him from a few feet away, standing quite still. He sensed it had taken all her courage to simply approach him and that she still was not quite comfortable wandering around lighted rooms without clothing. He smiled at her overt offering, quite willing to help the need he saw in her quivering stance and the lift of her quick breathing. “I might. Go to the bed,” he ordered, “and lay down on your stomach.” “Yes, of course, Your Grace.” She complied and he hardened to a complete rigid pulsing state at the sight of her young, lithe nude body in such a submissive state and the knowledge of what he was going to do to it. Finishing undressing, he knew she watched from her prone position, liking the fact that things had changed in this intriguing way between them. When he approached the bed, she very still and hardly seemed to breathe. “I do think you need more discipline, Patricia.” He looked at the long length of her legs, her bare satiny bottom and graceful back, and almost ejaculated right then and there despite his considerable experience in sexual control. “I might benefit from it,” she admitted softly. Her profile was pure and classically beautiful against the bed linens, her long hair falling is disarray around her.

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“Do you want me to spank you?” he asked, curious to see how far his fairly innocent young wife would take the sex play. “And after I do that, shall I fuck you?” There was no reply for a long moment, and then she said on a suffocated breath, “Yes, spank me, Jared, and if fuck means what I think it does, yes, do that too.” “My pleasure.” He said, meaning it. Lying down next to her, he first rested his hand on one smooth buttock, then lifted it and hit her lightly but with a satisfying smack. Her face averted, she did nothing but flinch slightly, and he did it again, hitting both cheeks this time, a little harder. She made a small sound when his palm made contact with her round, glorious posterior a third time, and he registered it as a moan of arousal. He continued, lightly spanking, then soothing her pink cheeks with his hand, until her hands fisted in the bed linens and he could hear her panting. Incredibly aroused himself, he climbed up and grasped her hips, slightly lifting her and shoving her knees apart to make her cleft more accessible. Mounting her from behind, he heard her gasp as he found her wet, small vaginal entrance with his rigid demanding arousal. He began to move inside in small, erotic thrusts, finally impaling her fully, and then withdrawing to plunge back inside with long smooth strokes. She felt like heavenly fire, hot, snug, wet silk that clenched his cock as he moved. Her slim hips held immobile by his hands, Jared ravished her body in a way he never dreamed of a few days before. Heated pleasure coursed in every pore of his body, a faint sheen of sweat breaking out across his brow as he held onto control by a thread. An experienced man, he recognized that part of his heightened enjoyment when making love to Patricia was her very lack of sexual knowledge. The fact that every moan of pleasure, every enlightened peak of unabashed delight, was something he exclusively had given her. His beautiful, passionate wife was his alone, he thought in dark possession as he admired her smooth, graceful back and tumbled pale hair. His testicles tightened as his climax built. He held back with effort, waiting until he felt the signs of release in her body before giving in. It came first with a tightening of the passage he invaded, a strong contraction of the tiny muscles there, answered by Patricia’s low keening scream. She shoved backwards as he came forwards, her face buried in the satin sheets, lifting her lush bottom in supplicant carnal need. His answering rush was immediate, scalding blissful release capturing him as he exploded deep inside her. The orgasm was so intense it caught him off-guard and he shuddered. His hands smoothed down the outsides of her smooth, taut thighs as he came hard, letting the waves of pleasure wash over and over him. It was a few minutes before he could even move. Gently withdrawing from between her legs, he lay down and turned her toward him, pulling her damp body into his arms. Sifting his fingers through her soft hair, he smiled into her flushed face. “I think, darling, you are completely forgiven for my discomfort at the ball.” A small smile curved her mouth and she murmured dreamily, “What a pity.” “Oh, don’t worry.” His hand slid across her warm cheek, traced the soft pink bow of her mouth, and then drifted down the curve of her neck to cup one firm breast. Rubbing his thumb across the peaked crest, amazed he could even think lascivious thoughts considering the force of his recent climax; Jared gave his wife a dangerous smile of pure promise. “The evening has just begun, my love.”

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**** The big room was very quiet, the fire having burned low, only the occasional crackle of a popping spark breaking the silence. Next to her, Jared slept half on his stomach, one arm curled around her waist. Patricia felt pleasantly exhausted, her thighs sticky from their extensive lovemaking, and the warmth of the bed, plus her husband’s large, completely male body next to her, should have made her sleepy. Instead, she was wide-awake. He was beautiful, she decided, able to lie there and study him freely, something she didn’t get to do often. His features were sculpted; high-cheekbones, a straight if perhaps arrogant nose, and a firm yet sensual mouth that could smile in a way that made her knees weak. His hair, a little long and slightly wavy, was thick and disheveled against the white linen of the pillowslip. With each measured breath, his wide chest lifted, the definition of hard planes and tapered muscle showing in his lean waist and flat stomach, and that part of him that gave her such pleasure lay relaxed in a circle of dark curls between his powerful thighs. Having only seen it erect, Patricia pondered the difference of that amazing organ, and the miracle of his body—and hers. That a man and woman could come together so perfectly in sexual intercourse and achieve not only incredible pleasure but also a communion of intimacy was a true miracle. However, perhaps her husband just didn’t see it that way. After all, once he had bedded Alicia Black, even knowing she was married, even considering her waspish temperament. Though the woman was beautiful, she was also a vindictive bitch. Snuggling a fraction closer so she lay more in his embrace, Patricia knew with a sinking heart that Jared had had many lovers in the past. It wasn’t exactly a surprise that he would keep a mistress or engage in affairs, most men in his position—even without his undeniable good looks, did so as a matter of course. But how could two people make love and then achieve enough detachment to walk away from each other? She just didn’t understand. Her mother had explained before her wedding that men looked at things differently than women, and she was startled to realize that was perfectly true. Things to Jared seemed straightforward, such as his autocratic order to not attend the play, while she saw the situation more as an insult to her intelligence and ability to make a decision on her own. Surely there was a way they could reach common ground, even out of the bedroom? That would be her goal, she decided as she moved a little closer, her breasts now touching his chest, her pelvis tucked against his groin. First, to make him continue to wildly desire her body and second, to make him see her as an equal, not just the suitable and acquired duchess he needed to fill his nursery and see to his carnal needs, but as a person he liked and considered a friend. Jared shifted slightly, pulling her possessively closer, saying something in his sleep as he tucked her body next to his, his breath ruffling her hair. Content, Patricia suddenly found she was very, very tired.

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Chapter Four

Something was in the wind—cold as an arctic glacier though it was outside, it seemed overly warm in the confines of the usually comfortable atmosphere of his club. Discarding his greatcoat, Jared nodded at several men he knew as he advanced toward his usual table, seeing their openly amused expressions with growing trepidation. He could feel the stares of friends and acquaintances in the dark and elegant muted room as he walked across the plush carpeting. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, trying to appear nonchalant. “What has she done now?” Reggie was already there, lounging indolently in a chair, his long legs sprawled in contentment as he sipped a glass of cognac. His younger brother gave Jared an engaging grin as he approached and lifted his brows. “You’re back, then. I thought you’d be gone more than a few days. Usually a summons from Grandmamma to her deathbed takes no less than a week. Better you than me. Luckily, I am not the duke with your tedious responsibilities to family.” Jared grimaced as he gestured for a glass and a bottle of claret. “She likes to make us all dance to her tune. I try to indulge her, but as a newly married man, I did insist I couldn’t stay more than three days. Her supposed illness proved to be nothing more than a case of indigestion. Mother is still there.” “Ah yes, you’d eagerly want to get back to your stunning young bride.” There was no mistaking the gleam of pure devilment in Reggie’s eyes. Auburn-haired, almost as tall as Jared and athletically built, he was five years his junior but they were good friends, often fencing and riding together. It was tradition that they gathered for a drink on Friday evenings, which was why Jared had stopped by before going home. Pouring himself a full glass of wine, Jared said flatly, “What the hell is going on? If Patricia has wandered naked in Piccadilly Circus, or entered a petition to the House of Lords for women to be allow to gamble and smoke in the gaming houses of Whitechapel, or God knows what else …Jesus, just have mercy and tell me, will you? I’ve only been away three days and she swore to me she would keep a low profile.” His brother’s brows twitched and he laughed in unadulterated mirth. “Nothing so drastic, and as far as I know, my lovely sister-in-law has been the sole of discretion since your departure.” Suspiciously, Jared took a hearty drink from his glass. “If so, why the devil is everyone here staring at me? And you have a suspect expression that I’ve seen before, usually when we were children. As I recall, I often got a good thrashing for something you tattled I’d done after I saw that particular look on your face.”

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“Don’t blame me,” Reggie tried to look outraged and failed, “you were older and bigger. I cannot help it if I explained to our parents when you led me astray into dangerous adventures.” “You were a notorious little snitch. Now, come clean. If my wife is up to another one of her doubtful shenanigans, I’d like to hear it now, so I can ingest a great deal of wine before I deal with her.” “Actually, she did nothing but give you a great compliment.” With an audible groan, Jared asked darkly, “Like what?” Coughing to conceal his laughter, Reggie straightened his expression. “It seems that at the ball the other night, when asked just exactly what you’d done as punishment after bodily removing her from the theater that fateful evening, she was overheard replying that you had scolded her ‘most wonderfully all night’. What’s more, your luscious duchess mentioned with a dimpled smile that you were tireless and endlessly inventive. By all reports, you have most of the men in London wondering if they should beat their wives for their indiscretions, or simply whisk them straight up to the bedroom and take out their frustrations in the most pleasurable of ways, between their legs instead of on their bottoms.” Or both, Jared thought, unwillingly finding a glimmer of humor in the situation. “Blood and thunder,” he swore in exasperation, slumping in his chair, his glass dangling from his fingers. Through his teeth, he muttered, “That isn’t exactly keeping a low profile.” “No, indeed. I won’t lie, everyone is abuzz with the details of your volatile but obviously romantic marriage.” His younger brother chuckled and reached for the cognac bottle. “But then again, I doubt there is a man in England who could blame you for how you handled the situation. Patricia is delightful, Jared, as you apparently well know. She is still an ingénue, as well, not used to being scrutinized every second of the day.” “Perhaps, but forgive me if I am unhappy to have the details of what happens in our bedroom fodder for the gossip mill. She should know better than to make a personal comment like that in such a public place.” “At least what she said was flattering,” Reggie pointed out as he filled his glass. “There are worse things than having everyone know she considers you a tireless and endlessly inventive lover. All the stodgy, old matrons are agog to know just what it is you do to your gorgeous young wife in bed. Apparently your duchess isn’t just daring in public.” “That,” Jared growled warningly, “is enough, Reg.” “All right.” With a theatrical sigh, his brother took a healthy drink. “Here, have some more claret and cheer up. Just think, when you get home you can scold her again most wonderfully ”. Resisting the urge to get up and punch his brother, of whom he was genuinely fond, right in the nose, Jared bared his teeth in a forced smile. “Don’t mind if I do.” **** Her cloak was covered in a fine layer of snow and Patricia smiled apologetically at Brightson, their very correct butler, who took it from her, the floor already starting to form a puddle.

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“It is rather frightful out there.” “Yes, your Grace. That is exactly what the duke said when he arrived a short while ago.” Her heart seemed to instantly beat faster. “He’s home?” “Yes, Madame. In his study. He requests your presence at once.” Brightson looked completely impassive. Though her hem was slightly wet and she was certain her nose must be pink from the cold, Patricia didn’t bother to run upstairs to tidy up first, she was too anxious to see her husband. It was odd to think she had lived without him for twenty years but the three days he’d been gone felt like an eternity. Fighting the urge to dash down the hall because Brightson would consider that to be beneath her dignity as the Duchess of Tellbourne, she walked sedately to the door of Jared’s study and knocked lightly, opening it when she heard his deep voice bid her to enter. He sat behind his desk, frowning at some paper he held in his hand. Glancing up, he stood politely and said coolly, “Hello, my dear. Brightson told me you went over to see your new niece. How are your sister and the infant, they are both well, I hope?” “Yes, fine. The child is perfect and Liza is so happy.” A little surprised by his continued frown and studied civility, Patricia stood there, a tentative smile on her face. “I am so glad you are back,” she told him a little shyly. “I missed you terribly.” “Close the door and sit down.” A small ripple of foreboding went through her, though she felt puzzled. She’d barely left the house during his absence; it wasn’t like there was anything new for him to be outraged over. Though she would have much preferred for him to take her in his arms and greet her with a passionate kiss, she did as he requested and shut the door, choosing a leather chair by the fireplace as she sat down. “You seem odd,” Patricia said hesitantly. “Odd!” Jared said in a caustic tone she recognized, one brow winging upward as he seated himself. “Why, I have it on good authority that I am not odd, but instead tireless and endlessly inventive.” Since he was obviously angry about something, Patricia barely registered his specific words. In bewilderment, she asked, “I beg your pardon?” “Madame, are you going to tell me you don’t recognize the description? It is on the tongues of everyone in society, or so I am told. And believe me, after a short time at my club, I am guessing that to be exactly the case.” His handsome face wore an expression of open irritation as he spoke and his dark gaze was very direct. “And while I am pleased you find my attentions enjoyable, I would think you might let that be between the two of us, not all of greater London.” Had she said that? To her horror, Patricia realized she most certainly had said it, but only to Ava, who would never repeat it to anyone. She flushed; being at least partly guilty of the crime accused, and said defensively, “I said something like that to Lady Lockwood only in a private conversation, Jared. We are extremely close friends and often share confidences. That she would quote me is unthinkable.” “She didn’t as I understand, you were overheard. Perhaps you might make a note to yourself that

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crowded ballrooms are not the place for such discussions. In fact, I order you to not discuss our sex life with anyone, understand?” Her slippers were wet, her appearance no doubt disheveled from her excursion, and her husband’s homecoming not in the least like what she had dreamed about as she lay alone in bed the night before. In fact, Patricia felt both disappointed and unaccountably close to tears. “Tell me, my lord,” she said more acidly than she intended, “have you never said something to one of your friends about a woman? Men are notorious for bandying about stories of their conquests. In all the time you were bedding the many lovely ladies that preceded me, did you never make a comment or give a suggestive description of your activities? What of Lady Alicia Black? How was she in bed?” She must have struck a nerve. A muscle seemed to twitch in his jaw and Jared leaned back in his chair. “My past is not the issue. Nor is my discretion. I am not the person who now has everyone avidly curious to know just what exactly we are up to each time we close our bedroom door.” “Married people have sex,” Patricia quoted, blinking rapidly to keep her eyes from filling. “I believe it was you who told me that, right after you invaded my bath and were seen quite openly fondling me. My maid is still afraid to open the door to my bedroom for fear she will catch us again. You also feel quite free to embarrass me by dragging me upstairs and announcing to your valet that you will undress me. If you think all of London doesn’t know that, think again. Servants gossip just as freely as the people who employ them.” “Patricia, I am your husband,” he said, but had the grace to at least flush slightly. “It is my right to bed you whenever I wish.” “And I am your wife, and it is my right to say I enjoy it.” Her mouth trembled and she bit her lip. Unfortunately, despite all her efforts, one scalding tear escaped and traced a wet path down her cheek. “Oh hell,” Jared muttered, shoving his hand through his thick hair in evident frustration. “This simply might be the most ridiculous argument I have ever engaged in, and I have had a seat in the House of Lords since I was eighteen, where ridiculous arguments are the order of the day. Darling, don’t cry. If you want the truth, I suppose I dislike the idea that every gentleman of my acquaintance now wonders, if they didn’t already before, what it would be like to bed you. There is no question that you are entrancingly beautiful, but the idea that you embrace and enjoy inventive sex would make any man wild with desire.” That impassioned speech mollified her hurt feelings at least a little. Sniffing, Patricia said, “As long as you are wild with desire for me, that is all I care about, my lord.” “There isn’t much doubt of that, though I swear you attract trouble like flies to honey. Were you this vexing as a child? However did your father endure the constant turmoil?” “He adores me,” she said truthfully, “and so he ignored it.” Jared looked suddenly dangerously amused, his expression changing from irritated and husbandly to sensually dark and speculative. “I’ll work on that. In the meantime, what kind of special punishment do I get to mete out for causing me to become the brunt of lewd jibes and disapproving looks from stout matrons? I warn you, I am feeling a little inventive this evening, my love.” Her breath seemed to rush from her chest. Patricia said demurely, “I vow to be very contrite, your

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Grace.” “See,” he said with wicked promise, “that you are.” **** They dined alone in the splendor of the huge dining room, amid flickering candles and attentive servants. How the devil someone as inexperienced as Patricia pulled it off, he wasn’t certain, but Jared knew he had never eaten a more sensual meal in his life. First of all, she wore a white gown to dinner, the style actually simple but very sophisticated, marrying the notion of innocence with overt seduction. Her bared shoulders and full breasts were accentuated by the clever low-cut décolletage, and her long slender neck framed by golden curls that gathered at her nape and spilled down her back. The girlish hairstyle and implied purity in the color of her dress should have made her look very young, but coupled with the lushness of her body and the beauty of her perfect features, the overall effect was unsettlingly just the opposite. Every time his wife lifted her fork or reached for her glass of wine, Jared found his gaze drawn to the fascinating plunge of her cleavage as those firm globes he couldn’t wait to touch quivered slightly. What’s more, the faint knowing smile on her soft mouth told him she most certainly noticed. So undoubtedly did the footmen who waited on them, Jared thought with resignation, those two young men keeping their gazes pointedly anywhere else. The truth was, his young wife was too alluring for his peace of mind. His erection swelled just from watching her delicately eat her food. Even the way she chewed and swallowed, somehow reminding him of the paradise that awaited upstairs. “The chef insisted on your favorite chocolate pudding for dessert,” she told him as the plates for the fourth course were cleared away. Her long lashes half-veiled her lovely eyes as she lightly touched her napkin to her lips. “With that marvelous sauce.” “I am not at all sure, Madame, I can sit through another course.” Her gaze widened slightly at the absolute conviction in his tone. Keeping her voice very low, she replied, “I, too, am very anxious.” That did it. Jared stood abruptly, setting aside his napkin. Nodding at one of the footmen, he said, “Please bring dessert upstairs.” When he came around the table to pull out her chair and offer his arm, he saw the shimmer of excitement in Patricia’s gaze as she put her hand on his sleeve, though she blushed as they left the dining room. “Does one eat dessert in the bedroom?” she asked with a lilt of amusement in her voice. “I most definitely plan on eating in the bedroom,” he responded smoothly, escorting her up the curve of the wide staircase. Resisting the urge to slip his hand into the almost nonexistent neckline of her dress and capture one of the tantalizing mounds that had riveted his attention for their entire meal, Jared found the steps to his bedroom door felt endless. Having informed his valet earlier he would not need his services after dinner, he was pleased to see the fire made up nicely and the linens on the big bed turned down. His favorite cognac also sat on a tray; the rich gleam catching the leaping light, contraband from France that he had paid a small fortune for due to the Peninsular War in progress in Spain.

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“Would you like a small glass?” he asked his wife, itching to undress her but knowing their dessert would arrive at any moment. “Just a taste to show you what you are missing when us gentlemen retire to our tobacco and brandy.” “A little would be nice.” Patricia sank down gracefully in one of the chairs by the fire, lifting one dark blond brow and smiling impishly. “But, you know my adventurous spirit, Jared. I tried brandy long ago, since my father did not keep that cabinet locked in his study.” “I wish I could say I was surprised,” he muttered, pouring her a conservative portion and presenting her with the snifter. Her playful smile deepened. “What would you prefer, your Grace, a wife who did not have the intellect to be curious about the unknown? A milk and water miss that grew faint at the very notion of trying something new?” “Certainly not tonight,” Jared told her, not bothering any longer to hide his inspection of her splendid breasts. “That gown shall be only worn in my presence, please. You are fairly popping out of it, which I find delightful, but others would as well, and that would not delight me in the least.” Patricia glanced down at the neckline of her gown. “The dressmaker assured me it was perfectly acceptable for a married lady.” “The dressmaker needs spectacles.” A small musical laugh pealed out. “You sound remarkably like a jealous husband.” “To my surprise, I am a jealous husband. Keep it in mind, please.” Jared added with lethal sincerity, “You are mine.” A small knock on the door interrupted whatever reply his wife might make, arresting the surprised look on her lovely face at his vehemence. Going to answer it, Jared allowed the young man carrying a tray inside, saying, “Set it on the table by the bed, please.” “Yes, your Grace.” The boy, who could not be more than twenty, had a decided flush to his cheeks as he followed the order, depositing the tray on the night table, though he kept his expression deadpan, not even looking over to where Patricia lounged by the fire, her slender body in seductive display by firelight in the fitted, almost scandalous gown. “Please thank the chef for me ahead of time,” Jared told him as the footman practically scurried to leave the room. “I know the duchess and I will enjoy it.” “Yes, sir.” The boy openly blushed at those words and exited, shutting the door behind him. It did look delicious, the rich chocolate cake made to be drizzled with a pale sauce made from butter, cream and whiskey. Crossing the room, Jared picked up a silver fork and speared a small piece. “Here, darling, you go first. Tell me how it tastes.” Patricia reached for the fork, but he shook his head. “Let me feed you. Open your mouth.” Kneeling at her feet, he slipped the fork into her mouth, watching her lips close over the morsel. Placing the fork back on the plate, he tried to ignore the throbbing in his cock as, still kneeling, he lifted her skirts and ran his

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hands up the silky length of her stockings to find her upper thighs. “How is it?” he asked, his fingers brushing the heated warmth between her legs. “Delicious,” she said breathlessly, looking down at him with his hands under her gown. “Oh ...Jared.” “What do you say to having another bite while I take off your clothes?” He rubbed her cleft slightly, the slick lips of her labia soft and perfect. Obviously she had kept the razor and lotion and obeyed his request to keep it bare. His cock stiffened almost painfully. “That sounds divine.” Her whispered response was hushed. Feeding her another forkful of cake, he removed her slippers and stockings as she swallowed it, enjoying the sight of his luscious wife with her skirts pushed up, the graceful length of legs exposed. Then he raised her to her feet and took off her gown and chemise, pulling the ribbon from her hair. Nude in the firelight, she was beyond gloriously desirable, her breasts uplifted and high, her pale hair a silken tumble, the beautiful bare cleft between her legs an offer of paradise. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her passionately, tasting the sweetness of chocolate as he explored her mouth, using his tongue to touch everywhere. “Umm …you are correct, my lovely lady, it is delicious. I cannot wait to try the sauce.” Lifting her in his arms, Jared took her to the bed. Patricia watched him undress, her eyes languorously half-shut as she lay compliant and waiting, her tight, peaked nipples evident of her anticipation. When he was fully disrobed, his erection pulsing hard against his stomach, Jared picked up the small pitcher of sauce meant for the cake. “I want to try it here first,” he informed her, “since these have been shamelessly teasing me all evening.” He slid his hand over the resilient curve of one firm breast, testing the weight and shape with his palm. Not anxious to sleep on sticky sheets, Jared poured slowly, letting the thick sauce slide over the taut tip of one pink crest, pooling a small amount on the intriguing valley between her breasts. Leaning over her, he began to lick her soft skin clean, inhaling her fragrance along with tasting the sweet rich sauce. At each swirl of his tongue, Patricia made a soft sound, her fingers threading into his hair as he finally sucked the coated nipple deep into his mouth. She moaned as he swirled over the tightened bud, clutching him to her. He did the same to the other breast, tasting and suckling. Then trailed a thin stream down her abdomen, following the sugary path with long strokes of his tongue, finally coming closer to the spot his appetite craved more than any dessert. Whisking a pristine cloth napkin off the tray and lifting her bottom to adjust it beneath her body, Jared whispered, “No chef, no matter how talented can duplicate this special treat.” Her cleft was beautiful, the soft lips of her labia completely female, the small, tight entrance to her vagina round and perfect. Staring ardently at his final goal, Jared spread Patricia’s legs wide with insistent hands. “Keep them this way,” he ordered, making his tone dictatorial, since he knew his wife liked to be dominated in bed, if not in their marriage. “I promise you’ll enjoy it. In fact, you’re going to come for me in just moments, my love. More than once, if I have my way.” “Oh God,” she breathed as he let the rest of the contents of the pitcher flow over her sex. The warm fluid coated the delicious crevasse, filling her slit and dripping down the curve of her bottom. Jared

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positioned himself between her open thighs, the heady scent of whiskey mingling with female arousal as he began to feast on his delectable concoction of woman and silky sauce. Her drenched satiny tissue was smooth and hot as he licked away the sticky substance. Her cleft throbbed against his mouth as if her blood centered there, just as his engorged shaft pulsated with need. Making certain to probe each fold, Jared watched her chest heave as she began to moan freely, her enjoyment climbing. The small nub that controlled her pleasure swelled further with each lave of his tongue. Arching wildly, Patricia opened her legs even further as she reached for that elusive orgasmic peak, finally finding it when he sucked gently on her most sensitive spot, her fluids of arousal mingling with the residue of his chef’s favorite specialty. His wife screamed openly, a small muffled cry that echoed in the bedchamber when she climaxed, tiny whimpers following as she drifted in that sea of contented bliss. Wiping his damp chin on the napkin, Jared rose and tossed it aside, climbing on top of her. “That,” he commented as he positioned himself between her limp and open legs, “was scrumptious, darling, but I am afraid I’m still hungry.” **** Not sure she could even breathe yet, Patricia felt Jared slide smoothly inside her. The heat and pressure of that invasion made her come back, at least partially, to earth. Not having the strength to even lift her arms around his neck, she closed her eyes and drifted, letting him use her body with willing lethargy, still floating in the aftermath of incredible melting sensation. In seconds of his penetration, she found she almost unconsciously gripped his cock as he moved in and out, beyond her will beginning to participate, though the realization of enjoyment was a wonder, considering what she had just experienced. “That’s it,” he murmured, his hair brushing his neck as he thrust with deliberate invasion into the still tingling depths of her vaginal passage, “come back, darling. This is nice, too, isn’t it?” It was beyond nice, which he knew well from the arrogant smile on his face. Patricia’s hands drifted up to rest on his wide shoulders, her already aroused body moving in wayward rhythm to his carnal strokes. “I’m not sure…” she shivered, an excess of sexual desire thrumming through her veins, “I can’t …I’m going to…Oh, God in heaven, Jared have mercy.” “Like this?” he teased in a dark whisper, moving in a fraction farther, nudging her womb with his hard cock, making her gasp. Patricia couldn’t help it, a low sound escaped her throat and her thighs tightened around his hips. Her second climax came on like a tide of relentless joy, her body helplessly swimming into that onslaught as she dug in her nails and held on. Jared uttered a low oath as he also tightened and pushed in urgently, a rush of semen filling her throbbing canal with the liquid evidence of his release, his shoulders shuddering under her clinging hands. Afterwards, he kissed her softly again and again—soft, sweet kisses that tasted vaguely of the wickedly used whiskey sauce, his arms tenderly holding her close to his hard, muscular body. Patricia felt her throat tighten, longing to tell him just how much she loved him, wanting to hear him say the same the same words to her. But she lay quietly and simply kissed him back until she floated toward a deep, physically contented sleep.

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Chapter Five

In consternation, Jared looked at the card in his hand. Then he nodded slightly. “Please show Sir Henry in, Brightson.” “Very well, your Grace.” “Tellbourne.” Henry Black nodded briskly as he came into the study. The faint ironic smile on his mouth told Jared he realized his visit was an uncomfortable surprise. Gray-haired and dignified, he had to be thirty years older than his wife, the lush but undeniably shallow Alicia. Already unhappy that Patricia had obviously heard rumors about his brief liaison with Lady Black, Jared was fairly sure a visit from the wronged husband wasn’t going to help matters. “Sir Henry. Please sit down.” Courteously, Jared gestured to a leather chair, and sank back down behind his desk. “Thank you.” Seating himself, the older man said without preamble, “You may relax, your Grace, I am not here to discuss your indiscretion with my wife, other than in the sense it is the catalyst for what has transpired since. You were not the first; Alicia has an eye for handsome young men. I am not ignorant of her nature. However, I was blinded by her beauty when I married her.” His grimace was brief. “There is no fool, as they say, like an old fool. I have often wondered if that particular phrase wasn’t coined after the first—but certainly not the last—elderly gentleman succumbed to the conviction that some lovely young woman actually desired to share his bed, not just his name and fortune.” That remarkable speech left Jared all but speechless. After a moment, he said neutrally, “When a man has fortune and title, it is difficult no matter their age to determine the sincerity of a woman’s affections.” Henry lifted a brow and his mouth quirked in a bleak smile. “Perhaps. At any rate, I know full well what Alicia is—every scheming, cheating, venal bit of her. All I can say for the fact that you were also tricked for a short while by her wiles is that I was surprised. I thought you too intelligent, Tellbourne, to fall into her clutches.” “Apparently not,” Jared admitted uncomfortably. “Often enough in our society, married women have agreements with their husbands to allow mutually discreet affairs. Alicia assured me you did not care as long as she didn’t flaunt it, and I believed her.” “And then,” Sir Henry said cynically, “she proceeded to flaunt it, didn’t she? Bedding a peer appealed to her, and you especially, considering your reputation for seduction. Being the hunter is her specialty.” It was so close to being an accurate description of the lovely and devious Lady Black that Jared agreed grimly, “Upon reflection, I too, came to the conclusion that her games were a little too calculated for my tastes. I broke it off quickly, Sir Henry, and my apologies, of course, for any embarrassment or distress.

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All I can say for myself is that now, as a married man, I see casual affairs in an entirely different light and would want to kill any man who touched my wife.” Leaning back, his hands resting on the arms of the chair, Sir Henry looked bland. “You are protective of your lovely young bride, that’s a healthy sign. I loved my first wife unconditionally, and she was a delight, giving me two sons. At her death I was devastated.” The very idea of anything happening to Patricia was unthinkable. Jared shifted a little, putting that unpalatable thought out of his mind. “I did not anticipate the depth of my devotion, but now that I am wed, I cannot imagine life without Patricia,” he acquiesced neutrally. “Your wife’s well-being is why I am here.” That flat statement made him straighten with a small chill. Jared narrowed his gaze on the other man’s face. “I am not sure I understand.” “Alicia is vindictive, your Grace, and your abrupt severing of your affair with my wife sorely abraded her pride.” Sir Henry looked frighteningly sincere as he leaned forward, his pale eyes direct. “Your duchess is in danger. At the very least, of discredit in the eyes of the ton . Who do you think fuels the rumors over every harmless action that might be interpreted—by the right wagging tongues, as indiscreet? Though it has been nearly a year since your short interlude with her, please do not discount the ire of a scorned woman. Alicia will seek revenge, I am already seeing it, and your pretty wife is the chink in your armor. Lately, Alicia has been more morbid than usual, even for her, dwelling constantly on the subject of your duchess.” Reflection on how often he had chastised Patricia for her behavior, it was a little unsettling to think he might actually be the cause of all the backhanded whispers. Without argument, Jared asked bluntly, “How seriously should I be concerned? Would she actually harm her?” “I wish I could assure you she would not. If I were not concerned, I would not be here, Tellbourne.” Considering Patricia had gone out earlier and was late returning, Jared felt a stab of panic. “I’ll hire a guard,” he said abruptly, “and though I appreciate you coming here beyond imagining, Sir Henry, please know that if anything happens to my wife, I will kill Alicia with my own hands.” The older man rose, his expression gravely understanding. “If anything happens to your beautiful and gracious young duchess, Alicia would deserve it. Good day, your Grace.” **** The shop was unnaturally dark, and Patricia frowned, pausing just inside. A vague smell of musty wood and damp floors filled the air, and there certainly was no evidence of the fashionable hats that Ava had insisted she needed to come and peruse. In fact, Ava didn’t even appear to be there, despite her note with the specific time and address, and if the proprietor of this store was a milliner, he was sorely short on wares. It was all actually very odd. The figure came out of the shadows. To her utter astonishment, a huge, meaty hand clamped hard over her mouth and she found herself being dragged backward across the dusty floor. For a moment, she felt paralyzed, but then reacted, struggling and twisting, trying to get her mouth free so she could cry out.

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Her assailant chuckled, she could hear the eerie echo of it in the shrouded space, and he said hoarsely her ear, “Don’t worry, my pretty little bird, you can sing all night long where you are going.” What the devil did that mean? In open panic, she fought, using her nails on the arms that captured her, drawing a low curse and a swift cuff on the side on her head. Never struck before in her life, she felt positively stunned, and not just from the blow. Whoever held her pulled her into what must have been the storage space of the building, and then out the back door into a filthy alley. Rats scurried away from piles of rubbish as he hauled her upwards, and as she felt the dip of a vehicle, she realized she was being truly abducted. Shoved in through the door, she heard it slam. Panting with fear and disheveled, she found herself in a carriage, sprawled on the floor, the conveyance lurching away as they rattled along the alley toward the street. The pins had come loose from her hair and it hung in a curtain around her face, obscuring her sight. “If you so much as open your mouth, I will shoot you.” The sound of that cool, amused voice made Patricia fling back her tumbled hair, staring incredulously at the woman who sat on the seat just a foot or so away. “Lady Black,” she gasped. “That qualifies, doesn’t it?” The woman in question asked in a drawling tone, narrowing her eyes. “One must open their mouth to speak. Shall I do it?” From her undignified seat on the floor of the moving carriage, Patricia saw that Alicia Black indeed held a very business-like pistol in her hands. Alarmingly, the barrel was just inches away from her head. Next to her sat a plump elderly man, his hands on the knees of his tailored trousers, his eyes, small in his round face, frankly staring. He said in a high, effeminate voice, “No. By all means, do not do it.” Since Patricia sat in a heap practically at their feet, she was easily within reach, and he leaned forward eagerly to take a lock of her hair between his sausage-like fingers. “By the gods, look at this, like fine gold silk. I can get a fortune for her.” Shrinking back, Patricia registered his words with vague horror, the threat of the gun and her unreal circumstances making her feel a little weak. Alicia Black smiled, a twist of her mouth that parodied the real thing. Her teeth were slightly bared, like a creature of the night, which she resembled with her dark beauty and glittering venomous eyes. “I suggest you market the duchess to the dark-skinned men of the Orient, Neville. I’ve heard they enjoy pale European beauties and teach submission without mercy. I wager within days, she will be opening her legs without protest to whoever wants her. I like the idea of that.” A gleam of defiance infiltrated her terror, and Patricia stiffened her spine, giving Lady Black a level look. Regardless of the gun, she said with remarkable evenness, “Let me go. Jared is not a fool. If I disappear, he will look at the logical choices and come up with you as a possible suspect. I have already heard that you are the one spreading the rumors about me, he will also. Don’t think for a minute he will let me go easily.” The fat man glanced over at Alicia, looking slightly dismayed. “I thought you said her husband would be happy be rid of her and cause us no problems?” Glancing back at Patricia’s face, his gaze traveling down to her bosom and then back up, he muttered, “But now looking at her, I suddenly doubt you, my lady.

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Why would the duke want to rid himself of such a gorgeous young woman?” That cold, unnatural smile widened. “I might have adjusted the truth slightly, but just leave Tellbourne to me. Don’t get cold feet now, Neville, darling. You have just abducted a duchess, the wife of a powerful peer of the realm. We used your empty shop to lure her, your man to grab her, your carriage to carry her away, and believe me, if the duke comes looking, he will find you, not me. It is best she disappear completely.” Plump Neville looked a little green. Patricia spoke up, trying to take advantage of his obvious discomfort. Lying through her teeth, she persuasively said, “I left the note lying on my dressing table. Once the alarm is raised, Jared will contact Lady Lockwood and when she tells him she didn’t write it, he will know there is foul play and he will also have the address. Then he will use his considerable resources to search for me. After all, I just told him I carry the next heir to the Tellbourne title.” Openly perspiring at that news, Neville retrieved his handkerchief and mopped his brow, saying weakly, “Pregnant she isn’t of much use to me.” Alicia’s face tightened and the pistol raised a fraction. “We’ll get rid of the brat, you stupid oaf, surely you know people? Don’t listen to her anyway, how did she find the address without the note? Memorize it at home? I doubt it. She’s bluffing. True, her driver will know where he dropped her off, but that means nothing. You own an empty building. If the duchess chooses to go in there, what do you know of it? That is your position.” The coldness of that speech robbed Patricia of any coherent thought. If she was indeed pregnant, which was possible, she feared suddenly for her unborn child. “Ransom me. My husband will pay.” “Your husband will come back to me,” Lady Black said with chilling illogical conviction. “Once you are gone, he will be all alone. He is after all a man with a rather predictable sexual appetite.” The idea of Jared and this woman made her feel sick, but there wasn’t time for that. Easing up, well aware of the gun, Patricia slid into the opposite seat of the carriage, her pulse pounding in her throat; not at all sure Alicia Black wasn’t just looking for an excuse to kill her. Stonily, she murmured, “What is predictable is that he will want me back. By all accounts, he broke it off with you well before he ever met me, so I had nothing to do with it.” “That bastard.” The words were said bitterly with a disturbing wobble of insanity lying underneath. “I told him at the time I would not allow him to enjoy another woman. I am always true to my word, Duchess, keep that in mind. From appearances, he is enjoying you far too much.” There didn’t seem to be a response to that, and Patricia felt the blood drain out of her face as they racketed forward, the wheels rattling loudly. A shot would probably go unremarked in all that clatter, she thought, staring down the barrel of the gun. “All right, let’s get her safely hidden. This all makes me very nervous, my lady, I won’t lie to you,” Neville said thickly. Lady Black’s lip curled in open contempt. “I can see that. For a man who trades in human flesh, you are remarkably squeamish, you little toad.” Human flesh, Patricia thought in crawling and complete horror.

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One fat hand still wiping his face with his soiled handkerchief, Neville rasped, “Tomorrow, a ship sails and I will see she is on it. I have a buyer in Arabia who has interesting tastes. He will relish her ivory skin and unusual eyes.” “That,” Alicia Black purred, still holding the pistol very upright, “sounds perfect.” **** The clock ticking on the mantle sounded inordinately loud, echoing through the room. Jared stared at the young man in front of him, his throat suddenly so tight he felt he couldn’t swallow as his worst nightmare solidified. “She went inside but never came out?” Adam’s apple bobbing, his driver nodded. “Yes, sir.” Stammering, he continued, “I thought it was sort of an odd place for her Grace to visit, not the best neighborhood and all, but it isn’t my station to say so, of course.” “She doesn’t listen to me either, so don’t worry, I shan’t hold you accountable for where she visits, just go on.” “I waited only a few moments, your Grace. I just had an odd feeling, so I decided to go in, though I never leave the carriage unattended, I swear it.” “And I believe you. Please, for the love of God, where is my wife?” Jared felt impatience and fear so acutely that his hands had actually begun to shake. “Down by the docks, my lord. There’s an old building, at least that’s where I followed them after I saw the carriage come out of the alleyway. When I saw the inside of the shop, there was nothing there. I ran outside almost as soon as I realized it wasn’t a real establishment and caught sight of the vehicle rattling off. The streets were pretty full, but I managed to keep them in sight pretty well until we got down by the pier. Your carriage has the ducal crest, you see, and I didn’t want them to see me following. I got hung up a little and lost them, but then spotted the same carriage I’d been following by an old building that looks to be abandoned.” The boy looked apologetic, his downy cheeks slightly flushed. “The driver was two of me, sir, a huge brute, and he stood out there as if on guard. I thought it best to not tip them to the fact I knew where they had taken her Grace, so I just came back here like the devil was at my heels. It’s getting dark now, I wasn’t certain what else to do.” “Take me there.” Jared was already halfway out in the hallway, frantically shouting orders. “Brightson, I want two footmen to go with me now. I think the duchess has been kidnapped.” **** “You’ll be comfortable here, your Grace. Though I am glad you have your cloak, for it is a cold night and we cannot risk a fire.” The gross man called Neville sniveled the words. Behind him, a hulking man with a greasy beard and beastly small eyes stared at her with avid interest from the doorway. The room was square, sordid and icily cold. An iron bedstead with soiled sheets sat in one corner, and a bucket to serve as a privy in the other. Patricia viewed the space with a sickening lurch of her stomach, disbelief over what was happening to her at war with a deep-seated desperation to escape. Pulling her cape around her body, she shivered. The only light in the space came from one almost gutted candle that

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the pudgy and repulsive Neville lit with trembling hands. “Let me go,” she tried once more in her best regal tone. “It will reward you more to free me than it will to sell me.” She could barely choke out the word, the very notion of being violated by a stranger making her physically ill. Neville’s smile was sickly. “I can’t. Lady Black has evidence that will put me in Newgate forever, your Grace. I had no choice but to do this in the first place.” “My husband will help you against her.” “Good night, Duchess.” He eased back, his sweating face gleaming like soapstone in the meager, flickering light, his thick lips pursed. “Arnie will be on guard outside the door, so do not try to raise a racket with useless screaming, for it would be his pleasure to come in and quiet you.” The very idea of Arnie, who must have been the man who grabbed her in the first place, touching her again, made her shudder. When the door closed, she heard the sound of a wooden bar dropping into place with a rattle of dreary finality. Picking up the candle, she paced across the space, peering into the corners, wrinkling her nose against the vague unwashed stench. It smelled like fear, Patricia decided, wondering dizzily how many other women had been held there against their will, waiting for a ship to take them into hellish unthinkable slavery. Well…not her. She had too much to lose, she decided as she stood there shivering, an eddy of frigid air swirling around her feet. Most of all, a wonderful husband who occasionally might be dictatorial and aristocratically arrogant, but was also infinitely passionate, unfailingly generous, and a tender, caring lover. The townhouse, the country estate, the grandiose title of Duchess of Tellbourne and the cache of glorious jewels that came with it…none of that mattered to her. What she couldn’t contemplate was that she would never see her husband’s face again or feel his strong arms around her as they made love. The wooden walls were made of warped, half-rotten boards. Patricia explored, finding chinks and small holes, wondering suddenly if the structure was as flimsy and decaying as it looked. She pushed in promising places, feeling give and even the occasional crack as a piece split, but not having any luck and trying to not make any noise. The candle sputtered, threatening complete darkness and she fought back tears, her throat thick. Finally, one spot in the wall opposite the door did let her arm go straight through. The board crumbled under the desperate pressure of her questing hands. Even in her triumph, the light on the floor beside her where she’d set the candle, dimmed ominously. “Hell and blast,” she muttered inelegantly. Hastily picking it up and tilting it so the wax ran to the side and the wick flared up a little. Sticking her wayward light through the opening, she saw a vast room, the other side of the warehouse at a guess, with rotting boxes and high broken windows showing a dusky winter sunset of glimmering gloom. Windows. The candle went out in a wisp of dying smoke. Not caring as much, Patricia pulled and pushed at the

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area surrounding the hole, right now the size of a pumpkin, but soon big enough to allow her to try to wiggle through. Her natural slenderness was a boon, and she did manage finally to escape the hellish little room, once probably an office, if she had to guess, though she lost her cloak in the process. The garment ripped with a soft hiss as she slid through and went sprawling several feet below to a dirt floor. But she was free. Well, not precisely, she thought wryly as she scrambled up and wrapped her arms around her upper body, the insidious cold making her teeth chatter. She was no longer locked in that horrible tiny room, and that was something, but free? At least there was some light, though the space was shrouded and there came an occasional rustle that spoke of rats or mice. Picking her way across rubble and refuse, Patricia could not believe how it felt to see a small door inset on one wall, the bar across it telling her it was locked from the inside, not the outside. Lifting the barrier, she heard a soft screech of rusted hinges as the door opened. It wasn’t quite dark, but between the close buildings of the docks it was thickly shadowed. Swallowing, she slid outside into the frigid night. **** If ever there was a journey that could be called interminable, it was the neck or nothing trip to the wharves. The carriage rocked and took corners on two wheels, and Jared made a mental note to give young Rob a nice bonus both for being so resourceful in the first place so they knew where Patricia had been taken, and for following orders and driving there at lunatic speed. When they slowed, he didn’t even wait for the vehicle to actually stop before he flung open the doors and jumped out. The building was long and utterly dark, set near a dock that was obviously not in current use, for the planks were rotted and half-gone. Dingy and seedily decaying, it would be a perfect place to hold a hostage, far from the bustle of the active part of the wharf so cries for help would be unlikely to be heard. Taking the pistol from inside his coat, Jared checked it with expert precision, and then nodded. “Come with me. From the sounds of it, there is likely to be trouble, so be prepared.” The two footmen Brightson had chosen were both wide-shouldered and brawny, and they both looked a little bemused by having to dash out on a cold winter night to rescue their mistress, but seemed more than willing to do so. One of them said, “Not to worry, your Grace. John and I would give our lives if need be, for her Grace.” “Hopefully, that won’t be necessary, but I appreciate your loyalty. Let’s go.” The main entrance to the deserted-looking building was not locked, the first sign they had found the right place, and though it should have been dusty inside, there was a clear path where feet had traveled recently. The place must have been used for storage at one time, perhaps for fishing vessels if the vague smell was any indication. It was vast and dim inside, and in the middle small, ill-fitting doors indicated a small series of tiny rooms, either offices or for storing special wares. Next to one, a man dozed on a chair, his breath coming out in foggy wisps. He must have been the driver Rob had seen, for he was barrel-chested and thick-shouldered, his dark beard resting on his chest as he slumbered. Jared took great pleasure in giving him a solid kick to wake him and shoved the pistol in his face.

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“Where is she?” “What the devil?” Sputtering, the big brute looked for a moment like he contemplated coming out of the chair. His fists half-lifting, he stared at the very business-like gun and perhaps registered the competence with which Jared held it just inches away, for he subsided and grumbled, “Guv, this isn’t my game. I’m just here to make sure she comes to no harm.” “Yes, I’m sure. You’d better pray like hell she hasn’t.” Jared moved the pistol a fraction toward the door. “In there, I take it?” “She’s right as rain, on my word.” Slightly whining now, his pig-like gaze saw the two footmen and young Rob and registered he was outnumbered. The man made short work of unfastening the door and shoving it open to reveal a dark, small cubicle with a filthy bed. His stomach twisting as he imagined how it would feel being locked in such a place, Jared said softly, “Patricia?” No answering sound came. Though the room was quite shrouded, to his dismay he saw a very distinct hole in the opposite wall. A puddle of cloth lay next to it. The fine wool material was a contrast to the general air of squalid decay. “Shit,” Jared said, his fears compounding instead of easing. The big man smiled maliciously, showing stained and blackened teeth. “It looks, Guv, like your pretty little bird has flown.”

Chapter Six

Making your way across London on a cold February evening, with no money and without the comfort of your cloak, was a tedious business, Patricia decided as she alighted from the hired hack. Shivering, she could barely feel her feet as she went up the steps of the townhouse, grateful to see lights blazing, though it had undoubtedly gotten very late. Of course there were lights, Jared would be upset, she thought fondly as she tried the knob, unable to turn it with her shaking fingers and finally lifting the doorknocker to let it fall. In fact, she couldn’t wait to be held in his arms. “Your Grace!” Brightson for once looked completely rattled, his usually proper countenance stricken as he jerked open the door. “Good heavens, where have you been? The duke is frantic. What has

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happened to you?” He looked so horrified—and Patricia did suspect her appearance was less than perfect, that she stifled a small laugh. “Forgive me, but I am freezing, Brightston, can I come in?” If possible, he looked even more distraught. “Oh dear, this is so irregular. There’s a fire in his Grace’s study. It will be warm.” To Patricia’s infinite surprise, he actually touched her, something he would not normally dream of doing, hauling her inside the foyer and dragging her down to Jared’s study. Shoving her into a chair, he babbled, “I’ll get tea. That’s the ticket.” “That sounds marvelous.” Patricia meant it, relaxing back and letting her eyes drift partway shut. It was utter and complete luxury just to be warm and safe. “Where is Jared?” “Looking for you, Madame, of course. His Grace has been gone for hours and hours.” The man actually wrung his hands together, she noted. “I think half of London is looking for you.” “That’s unfortunate.” Frowning, she nudged off one sodden, filthy slipper with a numb toe. “You will need to send someone out to find him and let him know I am home.” “I believe I am running out of people to send, your Grace. Perhaps we should hire more staff for circumstances like these. We could use another carriage as well, just in case.” If she didn’t think him incapable of it, Patricia could have sworn the usually stoic butler was being sarcastic. “This adventure is not my fault,” she said defensively. “I am entirely blameless, for once.” “Of course, your Grace.” He straightened, regaining a little of his normal impassive dignity. “I’ll see to that tea. And hot bathwater, I would guess, would be welcome. I will also try to drudge up someone to go and find the duke. Is there anything else I can do?” “No, thank you. I think I will just sit here and thaw for a few minutes. I am sorry if this evening has been difficult, Brightson, I am sure you have been a pillar of sanity in a trying situation.” Looking slightly mollified, the butler said regally, “Thank you, Duchess.” **** Utter despair was the only way to describe his feelings, but Jared could not justify any longer keeping everyone out looking for his missing wife. They had combed the streets near the docks, fanning out as much as possible, Rob having driven home to enlist the aid of every able-bodied man in the household. The sun had finally come up after hours of searching, glittering over the cold city with remorseless light, and still there was no sign of Patricia. Vowing to return home, recruit new help, and set out afresh, he was surprised to see Brightson hovering in the doorway of the townhouse as they pulled up and he alighted, the usually staid immaculate man showing a fine gray beard on his jaw, his rumpled clothes the same ones he’d worn the day before. He announced without preamble, “The Duchess is here, your Grace.”

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“What?” Incredulous, Jared stared at him and felt an almost dizzying sense of relief mingle with his overt fatigue as he entered the warmth of the foyer. “How did she get here?” “She told her maid she traded her diamond earrings for a ride home in a hired carriage. Since they were part of the family jewels, she is most distressed at their loss.” “Damn the Tellbourne jewels, I’d trade them all for her safety,” Jared said fervently, running his hand over his own stubbled jaw. “Is she all right?” “She appeared fine, sir, and after a warm bath and some hot tea, was persuaded to go to bed, though she did wish to stay up and wait for you. I convinced her that it would do no one any good if she fell ill because of her ordeal, and she did appear to be quite weary, so she agreed to sleep if I vowed you would wake her the moment you returned home.” Brightson lifted his brows slightly. “She’s upstairs in your bedroom.” Finding himself smiling despite the fact he was bone-tired and drained from acute worry and walking the streets of London all night, Jared said, “Go to bed, Brightson, and thank you from both of us for your service. In fact, all the staff has been wonderful and I will reward each of you for your devotion, rest assured. Now, if you will excuse me, I want to see my wife.” “Of course, sir.” Taking the steps two at a time, surprised he had the energy but urgently needing to see Patricia with his own eyes, he carefully eased open the door to the bedroom. As promised, she lay in the center of his bed, the gilding of the dawn seeping through the heavy curtains and drifting light across her golden hair. Approaching the bed, he sank down on the edge, unable to speak, just lightly touching the silken strands that tumbled across his pillow. She was naked under the heap of blankets, he realized. Her shoulders were graceful above the drawn sheet, her lashes like fans on her pale cheeks. He needed to hold her, to pull her warmth into his arms, to feel her body next to his with the solid reality of her well being. Standing, he stripped quickly, discarding boots, breeches, and his shirt with restive hands. Slipping in next to her, he inhaled the delicate fragrance of her skin and offered a prayer of thanks to whatever benevolent power had aided him in regaining the woman he loved. Yes, he loved her. Pulling her against him, feeling soft, heated curves with tender pleasure, he heard her mumble sleepily, “Jared?” “Yes, love.” Without opening her eyes, Patricia stretched slightly, her slender body moving tantalizingly to fit perfectly next to him. “Ummm …you’re here. I thought I was dreaming. I had a terrible evening, if you want the truth.” He kissed her eyelids lightly and laughed softly at that understatement. “So did I.” “It was Lady Black—” “I know, love, we’ll talk it about later. I think I know most of whatever transpired anyway, except your remarkable and resourceful journey home. The authorities have been contacted, rest assured.”

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His wife shivered slightly, slipping her arms around him. “I lost my cloak and now I can’t get warm, even after a hot bath and tea. You feel so good. Hot and hard.” Hard. That was amazingly close to the truth. Her breasts rested against his chest in sensual resilient pressure, and her fragrance stirred an automatic carnal reaction. Jared could feel himself stiffening in sexual arousal with almost incredulous realization, since he had been completely without sleep and was emotionally exhausted. Still, his shaft rose, pressing against the softness of her stomach, lengthening as he sighed into her hair. “You feel wonderful yourself.” Patricia noticed his erection, as it would have been impossible to miss with their bodies so intertwined. Her eyes still closed, she wiggled a little, just a shimmy of her delectable body against the evidence of his desire, rubbing against his growing cock. “I want you, too, but you must be tired.” “Apparently, I am never that tired.” Adjusting their position, Jared eased the woman in his arms on to her back, looking into the depths of her lovely aqua eyes as they drifted open. “Spread your legs for me, darling, and let me love you.” Her thighs parted obediently and he entered her with almost gentle persuasion, his own feelings so poignantly engaged he felt almost as if the sublime depths of her welcoming passage was like coming home, her slim legs apart to accommodate his throbbing shaft as it slid in and out of her body. He deliberately moved slowly, whispering in her ear how much he wanted her, describing his desire in the most flowery of terms, until she pulled him down and kissed him with feverish need. To his surprise, Patricia said breathlessly, “Whatever happened to fucking, your Grace? I could use a little more speed.” Jared stopped for a second in surprise, and then grinned at her impetuous request. “Can I deny my daring duchess? Hold on.” On his next thrust he plunged deep, lightly biting her neck as he penetrated all the way, her tight breasts rubbing his chest. Pumping in and out of her with vigorous need that should satisfy even Patricia’s need for submissive pleasure, he took her with heedless passion and she began to moan and twist, clutching his buttocks to bring him closer, sighing as he withdrew. Within moments she arched backwards, the ivory curve of her slender neck showing her beating pulse, and she shattered with a loud and very primal scream of pleasure. Inside, he could feel her vaginal contractions surround and grip his erection in liquid velvet demand, and he surrendered, climaxing in tune with her orgasmic plea, erupting and shaking with the power of the blissful sensation. He wanted to fall asleep like this, he thought, still inside her, rolling slightly to his side but continuing to hold her very close. Like they were one being with two frantically beating hearts. A single entity, a man and a woman bound together forever. Maybe those would be the words he would use to finally tell her. **** It had to be late afternoon if the slanting rays of the sun were any indication. Sliding out from under the coverlet, Patricia picked up her silk dressing gown, which she had left by the side of Jared’s bed the night—no, morning before, and slipped it on. There was water in the basin by the dressing table and she washed her face, sitting down and using her husband’s comb to untangle her hair. Actually, aside from a small bruise near her temple, she felt completely fine now that she had some rest, which seemed

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remarkable. The whole experience was like a distant dream—a nightmare that would hopefully fade quickly. Sometime during her slumber, someone had brought in a tray with tea and a plate piled high with different pastries, and it was true, she was actually quite famished. Patricia went to pour a cup, finding it still warm if not hot, and frowned as she saw there was also an envelope lying on the silver surface, with her name across the front in Jared’s signature scrawl. Wondering why on earth her husband would write to her when he could simply come upstairs and talk to her, she curiously broke the ducal seal on the back and took out a sheaf of paper.

My dearest Patricia: In light of recent events and my overwhelming emotions at having you safe and with me again, I wish to express to you the depth of my feelings in a way that you can have and hold these words forever. I would give you anything material you desired, which I am sure you know, but love has no price, it cannot be bought, nor can it be sold, it is always a gift, and I give mine to you. You hold my heart, darling, and have shattered my jaded illusions of a comfortable, settled marriage to a suitable woman. Your beauty beguiles me, your spirit enchants my soul, and your passion is like a white flame that draws and warms me. I am not a romantic man, but when I see you smile or kiss your lips, I believe fully in a mysterious and wonderful force that I did not suspect existed before I met you. When I worship your body with mine, I feel not only pleasure but also a deep communion of our spirits. It is making love in the truest sense of the word and I am moved by the wonder of it, and of you. I am not sure I deserve the happiness you bring me, but I embrace it and the fact that I love you with all my heart, my soul, and everything else that I am. You are my life.

With my deep and abiding affection, Your husband, Jared Warden, the seventh Duke of Tellbourne Dated this day, February 14, 1811

Patricia wasn’t sure, but she thought perhaps she had stopped breathing. Tears filled her eyes and happiness she wasn’t sure was of this earth made her entire body tremble. Jared loved her. Not only had he said it, but he’d also written it in a love letter that was beyond the shadow of a doubt the most wonderful gift anyone had ever given her. She needed to see him this instant, to tell him she loved him just as deeply, to touch him, to look into his eyes.

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Still clutching the letter, Patricia ran to the door of the bedroom, heedless that she wore only her dressing gown and absolutely nothing else, and dashed down the hallway. Lucky that she didn’t break her neck descending the stairs, she flew down the steps. A startled maid gasped, “Good afternoon, your Grace.” “It’s a wonderful afternoon,” Patricia said in return, giving a delighted laugh. Brightson was in the downstairs hallway, and she demanded, “Is the duke home?” “Your Grace, perhaps I should call a doctor. Let me help you back upstairs,” the butler said soothingly. His proper face wore a look of horror she was coming to know well. “Last evening was a terrible trial, but you should not be wondering about…” “I am not in some sort of delirium, don’t worry,” Patricia said impatiently, glancing down at her attire. She was properly covered; it just wasn’t perhaps normal apparel for dashing around the house. “I simply need to see my husband this instant. Where is he?” “His study, Madame.” There was resignation in the reply. “But he has…” “Thank you, Brightson.” Patricia was already moving away, going to the closed door of Jared’s study and knocking once, not waiting for a reply before opening it and going in. “Patricia.” Jared stood in alarmed surprise as she crossed the rug and came toward him. “What’s wrong?’ “I read your letter.” His face blurred as tears filled her eyes once more and she went around the edge of the walnut desk and stopped in front of him, tilting her face up and gazing into his dark eyes. She said breathlessly, “It is the most beautiful thing in the world and I will cherish it always. I love you, too.” His expression seemed to be something between amused tenderness and resignation. His well-shaped mouth lifted wryly and both of his hands came up to rest lightly on her shoulders. They felt warm through the thin silk. “I am glad on both counts, darling, but this couldn’t wait until we saw each other in the regular course of the day or perhaps until you donned proper clothing?” “No,” she said with conviction. “It couldn’t.” “Ah, well, I see. My dear, you do know Mr. Carlton, don’t you? And this is Mr. Tremer, his assistant.” “Oh.” Patricia turned, and sure enough there were two other men in the room, both of them standing, George Carlton looking openly amused. Heat climbed into her face, but Patricia was too happy to be acutely embarrassed. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said lamely. “I wasn’t aware you were occupied.” To her surprise, Jared scooped her into his arms, holding her against his chest. He glanced at the two men and grinned. “Can we resume this meeting at a different time, George? And thank Lila for me, will you? It was obviously a brilliant suggestion.” His friend chuckled. “Certainly.” Still holding her precious letter, Patricia looped her arm around her husband’s neck as he carried her out of the room and toward the stairs. “What suggestion?” she asked curiously.

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Jared said serenely, carrying her past a servant who had stopped in the act of dusting a table to stare, “I wanted to give you something special. George’s wife thought you might like a love letter better than diamonds or rubies. I confess, I did not think of it myself.” Patricia kissed his jaw. “As long as you meant it, that is all I care about.” “Every word, though I labored like a schoolboy over it. I am not experienced at expressing my love for a woman, since I have never loved one before you.” He paused, and added dryly, “That affection, I suppose, will help me weather the occasional unpredictable escapade and public outings in your dressing gown.” “Last evening was not my fault,” Patricia pointed out, but then admitted, “Though I suppose I could have taken a moment to slip into some clothes before coming downstairs just now. Sometimes I don’t stop to think things quite through.” Carrying her effortlessly up the stairs, she saw her husband lift a brow. “I’ve noticed that, don’t worry.” Nuzzling his neck, Patricia suggested softly, “You can always chastise me.” “An appealing idea.” Gazing up at her husband’s face, she asked quietly, “Could you say it, please?” Shouldering his way into the bedroom, he obviously knew what she meant. “I love you, Patricia.” “I love you, too,” she responded as he laid her on the rumpled bed. Untying her robe and letting it fall open in graphic invitation, she said dreamily, “Now, that part of the letter about worshipping my body with yours…” “My particular favorite,” her husband said with a dark smile as he began to undress. “I was inspired.”

About the Author

Emma Wildes loves the infinite variations of romance in all its forms. She believes that passion makes the world go around …and delights in being able to write about it. Come see her atwww.emmawildes.com . If you also like traditional romance or mystery, please visit her atwww.katherinesmith.net . Also available at Venus Press from Emma Wildes…

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The Arrangement Savage Shores

About this Title This eBook was created using ReaderWorks®Publisher 2.0, produced by OverDrive, Inc.

For more information about ReaderWorks, please visit us on the Web at www.overdrive.com/readerworks

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