A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle (126 page)

He hoped she wouldn’t be too upset.
But the last time she’d been forced to travel, the journey had been
a rather eventful one, with her cat being so ill.

“
Neil brought me news this
morning of my estate in Wales,” he began.

“
Good news, I hope,” she
murmured.

“
I’m afraid not. My steward
was taking money. He’s been placed under arrest, but now there’s no
one caring for the needs of my property.”

“
Oh, dear. I suppose you
must travel, then.” She reached over with one hand to pet her cat,
which was purring loudly beside her.

“
Yes, I must. We’ll leave
in the morning.”

“
We? Will Neil be returning
with you, then?”

“
No. I meant you and me,
Jane. And the children, of course.” He hated the confused look in
her eyes. “I simply have no way of knowing how long I’ll be gone.
You must come with me.” Peter set his fork and knife down and took
her hand in his own. “Perhaps we can think of it as a
honeymoon.”

She removed her hand from his and
placed it on her lap. Her gaze turned to the cat beside her, and
tears welled in her eyes.

“
Of course, we’ll bring Mr.
Cuddlesworth with us. If you didn’t insist upon it, Sarah surely
would.” He only hoped the cat would survive the journey. It might
prove too much for the animal at this stage of its life.

“
Very well,” she whispered.
A single tear streamed down her cheek and landed on her
bosom.

For the first time in his life, Peter
hated himself.

~ * ~

“
Naughty boy,” Jane said
halfheartedly to Mr. Cuddlesworth as she picked him up and
scratched his ears. “You were supposed to stay with Sarah tonight.
In the nursery.”

Only twenty minutes ago, she’d
delivered him to Mrs. Pratt and asked the nurse to try to keep him
there. If Jane was to have any hope of following through with
Sophie’s plan, having her cat watching matters—or worse, attempting
to get in the middle of things—would not prove conducive to her
state of mind.

But here he was. He’d pawed at her
door while she was dressing in one of those dreadfully
embarrassing, gauzy nightrails, and she’d let him in. She placed
him in his basket and set it on the foot of her bed. “You must stay
here, then. If you have to be near me tonight, this is as close as
you’re allowed to come.”

He meowed in response. Hopefully that
meant he would comply with her request.

Jane took one final look in the
mirror. Good Lord, she could see everything. There was nothing left
to the imagination. Hopefully this would work.

Hopefully Sophie and
Charlotte
had
been
right.

She bit her lip and tried to steel
herself for whatever reaction she received. If only her mother had
told her something—anything—about what would be involved in the
marriage act. She felt ridiculous and terrified and eager, all at
once.

Before another moment passed and she
could change her mind, Jane stepped into the sitting room between
their joined chambers and knocked at the door to Peter’s dressing
room.

When he called out, “Come,” she nearly
lost her nerve and rushed back to her own room. Instead, somehow
her fingers gripped the door handle and pushed it open.

He stood shirtless facing an open
armoire, carefully folding his superfine coat and placing it in a
tidy stack. His Hessian boots had been removed as well and were
situated neatly against the wall, waiting for him to put them on
the next day.

Jane had never imagined the sight of a
man’s bare back could cause her breath to catch. Broad shoulders
narrowed to a tapered waist. The muscles in his arms and shoulders
flexed and tensed as he worked. Her pulse, already faster than
normal, tripped to a stop and then raced ahead.

“
What is it, Bradford?” he
asked without turning.

“
Peter, I...” She had no
idea under the moon what to say.

It didn’t matter. He spun around at
the sound of her voice, dropping his cravat to the
floor.

And he stared.

Devoured might be more accurate. His
eyes roamed over every inch of her body, until she felt more
self-conscious than ever before. She itched to cover herself, but
somehow kept her hands at her sides.

She’d thought nothing could rival the
sight of his naked back. She’d been wrong.

The planes and angles of his chest
fascinated her, as did the sprinkling of dark hair covering it. His
body looked so very different from her own. How might it feel to
touch? Jane blushed at the thought—not to mention the heat in his
eyes.

The buttons of his breeches were
undone and the front flap dropped below his waist. Another line of
dark hair trailed down his abdomen and disappeared behind the flap
of his trousers.

She allowed her eyes to follow the
path until she realized he was watching her reaction. Her eyes
snapped back up to meet his.

Finally he spoke. “Do you need
something, Jane?” His voice sounded strained, like he’d swallowed a
hive of angry bees and was trying to keep them all
inside.

She should make up a story—anything.
She could say she’d been sleepwalking. Or just turn around and
leave.

“
You said I should come to
you.” Dear God, her mouth had turned on her. “When I was ready,
that is.”

“
Yes.” Peter didn’t move.
He hadn’t moved since he’d first turned around and discovered her
in his dressing room. She wasn’t entirely sure he had even
breathed.

She surely hadn’t.

Was he just going to stand there and
make her explain it all to him in explicit detail? Cruel,
despicable man. If only she weren’t so desperately in love with
him.

“
I’m ready,” she said. At
least she thought she said it. Perhaps not, but she intended
to.

Several more moments passed with no
sound in the room other than her ragged breath. Or perhaps his,
too. She wasn’t entirely sure.

“
Are you certain?” His
smooth growl fluttered over her ears, and she trembled. He seemed
dangerous.

Why couldn’t he just start? The
anticipation was bound to be worse than the act.

Jane couldn’t speak. Her words were
stuck in her throat. She nodded.

Peter crossed the room in an instant.
His hot mouth landed on hers, his tongue seeking entry through her
lips. Their tongues tangled and danced. One hand fisted in her hair
and pulled her closer. With the other, he felt for the open doorway
leading to his chamber.

Peter’s mouth left hers and he picked
her up. He carried her to the huge canopied bed in the center of
the room. Pulling back the counterpane, he tossed her inside and
covered her body with his own before she could complain.

None of this was anything she had
expected. Not that she knew what to expect.

The weight of his body pressed her
down into the mattress. His musky scent invaded her, overwhelmed
her. She needed to feel him. To touch him. She trailed her fingers
over his chest, his ribs—feather light and tentative. Everywhere
she touched, his muscles quivered.

His mouth returned to hers, then left
just as quickly to slide down her neck and over her shoulders. She
felt feverish in all the places his tongue traveled.

Then his hands were at the bottom of
her nightrail, sliding it up an inch at a time—to her thighs, her
hips, her waist, her chest. She raised her arms above her head and
he slipped the gown off completely, trapping her hands in one of
his own.

“
I want to look at you,” he
said. His mouth hovered near her ear, and he leaned in to suckle
the earlobe. When he nibbled on it, it triggered a liquid pull
between her legs and she jumped.

He pulled away, still holding her
hands above her head. She watched his hungry eyes roam over his
body. They lingered on her breasts, then moved lower, lower, until
he stopped at her womanhood for a moment, before returning to her
breasts.

Peter’s mouth came down then, laving
at one breast with his tongue while he kneaded the other. He took
the tip into his mouth, first sucking, then nibbling.

A deep, low sound emanated from her
throat. Her legs couldn’t remain still. They thrashed about her,
pushing her forward.

She tugged to free her hands. Once he
released her, she moved them over his abdomen, tangling her fingers
in the trail of hair she found there. Heat emanated from just
beneath her hands. Curiosity begged her to find the source of the
heat, but she was afraid to do something wrong.

But then Peter growled and took one of
her hands, pushing it lower, beneath the front fold of his
breeches. “Touch me,” he commanded. He raised himself up over her,
staring down into her eyes. When she took his hardness into her
hands and squeezed gently, his eyes rolled back in his
head.

“
I’m sorry,” she said and
quickly pulled her hand away.

He reached down and grasped her arm.
“Don’t stop.” His eyes flashed when she took hold of him again.
“Please don’t stop.”

Jane stroked her hand along his
length. It was hot, rigid, moist. She had no idea what she’d
expected, but this was an utter surprise.

She circled him with her fingers, and
then slid them up and down.

And she nearly came off the bed when
he slipped his hand between her legs, stroking against a nub she
didn’t even know existed.

“
Is this all right?” he
asked as his fingers moved inside her.

It was better than all right; she
thought she might shatter into a thousand tiny pieces. Every move
he made set her skin to tingling. All she could manage was a
sigh.

Just when she felt she would surely
die if something didn’t happen, he lifted her up and turned them
both around until they were sitting, with her straddling his legs
and facing him. Her breasts jiggled and she tried to cover them,
but he pulled her hands away.

Again, Peter circled his tongue around
the hardened nub of one breast. He blew on it then, and the cool
air against the wetness had her straining against him and
trembling. Peter was not finished with his exquisite torture
though—he repeated the performance on the other breast.

Her breath was ragged, coming in
starts and stops. When he nipped the sensitive bud, she nearly
screamed.

“
Do you like that?” he
asked, grinning at her with the most wicked, sensual smile she’d
ever seen.

Jane nodded.

“
Tell me. I want to hear
you say it.” He bit the other one, just a bit harder.

“
Oh, God,” she managed.
“Yes, I like that.”

“
Good,” he said, then lay
her back with her legs open before him.

Peter leaned down and she gasped. He
couldn’t do that, could he?

But he did. He kissed her and used his
tongue like he had used his fingers before. It was sinful and
wanton and the most wonderful thing she’d ever known. Her hips rose
up to meet him, almost of their own volition.

Jane gripped the sheets in her
hands—she needed something to anchor herself against.

When his teeth scraped across her
core, she felt like she split in two.

Peter left her momentarily, then was
between her thighs. The tip of his erection pressed where his lips
had just been and she felt herself open to him. Slowly, he drew
closer, deeper. He slid in and out, creating a wonderful friction.
Leaning over her, he kissed her, mimicking the movement with his
tongue.

And then he stopped, still inside her.
Did he not realize she would die if he didn’t finish? Not that she
knew what he needed to finish—but something felt very incomplete.
She shifted her hips and moaned at the lovely sensation that
caused.

Peter gripped her hips and forced her
to hold still. “I don’t want to hurt you, Jane. But I have to.” His
face was strained. “It will only last a moment.”

With a nod, she raised her knees,
which moved him deeper inside her. He groaned and she wondered if
she’d hurt him.

But then he rose off of her and came
back down, much deeper than before, pushing until their bodies
touched in the most intimate way. And then he froze. “Tell me when
the pain is gone.”

She supposed it did hurt,
at least a bit. But more than pain, she felt fully alive.
Aware.
Powerful
.

An instinctual need to move her hips
took over, and she moved them against him.

“
Are you all right? Tell me
you’re all right.” He bit his lip in concentration and fought to
hold her still, despite her constant motion.

“
I’m fine,” she panted.
Wonderful would be more apt. Or splendid. Perhaps euphoric. But
each of those took far too much concentration to
vocalize.

Finally, he began to move in her
again, setting a slow but steady pace. He buried his face in her
neck while they rocked. Jane drew her knees up and wrapped her legs
around his waist. Amazing. That drew him deeper. She had no idea he
could be deeper within her womb.