A Season Beyond a Kiss (22 page)

As he indulged himself admiring his wife from afar, Jeff was struck by a sudden mental image of her with her belly swollen with child, much as Heather’s was now. He had once teased Raelynn about having several dozen offspring. Now the thought of even one rounding out her belly provoked such profound longing that it almost robbed him of breath. On the cusp of it, and hardly aware of what he did, he began weaving his way through the labyrinth of dancing couples. When he clasped Rhys’s shoulder, he evoked a surprise that was at the very least farfetched.

“Well, Jeffrey, what’re you doing out here by your lonesome?” the sheriff asked, as if the idea that a man might want to dance with his own wife had never occurred to him. In his own concocted vernacular Rhys chided, “You oughta get yourself a girlie if’n you want ta dance.”

“I know that, my friend. That’s why I’ve come for my wife. Go find your own before she sends her brothers out to drag you off the floor.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time.” Rhys chortled as his eyes lit on the petite blonde who was eyeing him from the sidelines. “I guess I’m gonna have to teach my li’l darlin’ how to dance or one o’ these days she’s gonna be nailin’ my hide to a barn door. Mary can get a mite resentful sometimes when I yield my feet to the music and seek out a dancing partner.”

Raelynn glanced toward the winsome, young woman. At the moment Mary clutched an embroidered shawl self-consciously over her midriff, lending much to the supposition that she was in the earlier stages of a pregnancy. “I think I’m feeling some of that resentment even now, Rhys,” she ventured, her eyes sparkling with unquenchable humor. “You’d better make haste to make amends, or Mary will be dragging you off the floor by the ear.”

“Sure thing,” he rumbled through his laughter and touched two fingers to his brow in a casual salute before flapping his arms and making much of his alacrity to join his wife.

Raelynn and Jeff relented to their amusement over the sheriff’s propensity to play the comedian and continued to laugh as Rhys made a great show of explaining himself to his spouse. At present, Mary had her pert nose tilted upward, feigning a highly offended manner.

After a courtly bow, Jeff invited his wife to join him in a waltz and immediately received a welcoming answer in the form of opening arms. For several moments he swept her around the perimeter of the floor in ever widening circles as they relished the music and the presence of each other in silence. Then Raelynn peered up at him with a wondering smile.

“That was rather bold of you, Jeffrey, coming out into the midst of our guests to stake your claim on me. Did you want me for something in particular?”

Arching a brow, he grinned down at her. “Only to dance with you whenever I feel like it. I’d hardly call that bold, merely . . .” He lifted his head thoughtfully, seeking the appropriate word, and then nodded decisively, “. . . sensible.”

From beneath a lengthy fringe of silky black lashes, Raelynn shot him a glance that was somewhere between dubious and amused. Such a look made Jeff smile in secret contentment. The idea of keeping his wife a bit uncertain as to how
sensible
he intended to be regarding his husbandly prerogatives was certainly not objectionable to him. After all, there was such a thing as taking a spouse too much for granted.

All the same, Jeff felt a niggling uncertainty when he saw her small, white teeth chewing at a bottom lip. Whatever unquenchable male inclinations had rallied in an effort to keep her just a bit off balance in regards to her womanly assessment of his character was now encumbered by a desire to have her always feel safe and secure as his wife.

“Raelynn, my love, I’m not overly jealous, certainly not of my friends when they lend you some . . .” His assurances were abruptly silenced by her tantalizing smile.

“Very sensible, of course,” she murmured as her fingers worked their way to the short strands of hair at his nape. “I much prefer dancing with you, Jeffrey.”

Of a sudden, the music seemed to soar in joyful rhapsody, and Jeff ceased to think of anything beyond his simple appreciation of the woman in his arms . . . and in his heart. Of late, she seemed the very reason that it beat the way it did.

Moments later, Jeff and Raelynn meandered hand in hand to the refreshment tables, and it was there that the milliner introduced them to Lord Marsden and Lydia Winthrop.

“Such a lovely affair,” Lydia assured the couple graciously.

“Yes, absolutely,” Lord Marsden agreed in a more cordial vein, winning the smiling approval of Mrs. Brewster.

Lydia quickly explained his lordship’s mission to Jeff. “We thought you or Mr. Brandon might be able to direct his lordship in this matter.”

“We’d be delighted to assist him,” Jeff assured them and faced the man directly. “You’re welcome to return here to my home anytime while I’m in residence, my lord, or to even stop by my shipping company. You can be reasonably assured that I’m there on Wednesdays, but as for the other days of the week, I cannot say. I have other business interests that demand my time, but I’m also just as prone to stay at home and take account of my crops, stables and other things that are of utmost importance to me.” Surreptitiously Jeff reached back a hand and, threading his lean fingers through those of his wife, squeezed them gently, silently affirming that she was the one who really claimed the best of his attention. “I’ll be happy to lend you whatever assistance you may require, my lord.”

“Thank you most kindly for your generous offer, sir. I would certainly be indebted to you if you could help me conclude my business here speedily so I can return to England well before the nuptials are announced. Truly, if I must endure another sea voyage the like of which Mrs. Winthrop and I have already suffered, then I may never get up enough nerve to board another ship as long as I live.”

His comment evoked their laughter, allowing Mrs. Brewster to renew her admiration for the man. After all, he was a lord of the realm and had even seen fit to invite her for a turn about the dance floor.

  
  B
EING AT AN ELEGANT BALL WITH A WIFE RATHER THAN
merely a female companion was a new experience for Jeff, and he was not above taking marital license whenever the opportunity presented itself. Raelynn seemed more than willing to foster his husbandly advances with a few wifely ones of her own. Indeed, such moments were limited only by the amount of secrecy or concealment they were able to garner throughout the evening. Her hand settling possessively upon his backside while they were wedged in a corner talking to friends or the back of his arm brushing her breast were teasing little sweetmeats that made them smile at each other in warm communication.

It was equally satisfying for Jeff to return to their bedchamber after Mrs. Brewster had accidentally splashed punch over the starched whiteness of his shirt and to find his wife perched on the end of the overstuffed chaise with her skirts drawn up nigh to her hips. She was just dragging off a badly snagged stocking when he arrived and began smoothing on new hosiery as he doffed his coat and shirt. He was ever wont to admire her long, sleek limbs and, with a husbandly appreciation, hovered near with all the dedication of a lusting roué. Nibbling at her earlobe, he whispered lewd suggestions in her ear until Raelynn was giggling like a new bride. His proposals proved provocative, especially to Jeff who became increasingly dedicated to the idea of enjoying some marital intimacy. Kneeling before her, he covered her throat and bosom with languid kisses as his hand wandered with bold familiarity beneath the hem of her gown. Raelynn’s breath caught at his advance. A moment later it escaped in a fluttering sigh of pleasure as she relaxed against him. When his lips traveled upward to ensnare hers, commanding a fervent answer, she yielded her mouth completely, meeting his probing tongue with slow, sultry flicks of her own.

A moment later Jeff lifted his head and searched his wife’s face for the depth of her commitment to this moment. Soft, dewy eyes merged with his, and a warm shiver gently shook her slender frame as she recognized the passion blazing in those green orbs. A long, muscular arm moved around behind her hips and swept her forward to the end of the chaise, opening her up to him as he freed the fastenings of his breeches and slowly sheathed himself in her womanly warmth.

Things became increasingly focused, at least until several twittering ladies approached from down the hall and entered the bedroom next door, where they eagerly praised the changes that had been made to the house in recent years. Frozen on the threshold of erotic rapture, the couple clung to each other as they listened in waiting apprehension. Before the ball, the draperies had been drawn closed over the French doors of the master’s chambers, but the glass portals had been left standing open to catch the wafting breezes. As a result, no one could predict what curious soul might decide to venture out onto the veranda or even dare to enter the private quarters.

Discomfited by their guests’ proximity, Raelynn pressed a trembling hand against her husband’s chest and looked up at him pleadingly. “Later,” she whispered as her palm stroked the furred expanse. “When we have more privacy.”

Jeff pressed his lips near her ear. “Then come downstairs and let me hold you in a waltz until my blood cools.”

“As if it would,” she replied and started to laugh, then hurriedly buried her face in his shoulder until she could subdue her amusement. She glanced back at the mantel clock as it began to chime. “Ten o’clock. Not much longer now. Then we can be alone together.”

“You’d better leave first,” Jeff murmured huskily, withdrawing from her. “If I go down now, I’ll shock our guests.”

Rising with him, Raelynn snatched a kiss from his lips and, with an admiring glance downward, stepped away from him with a grin.

8

Yet, even as she struggled to dismiss their cattiness, Raelynn became increasingly aware of her own rising euphoria. After despairing of even surviving the sea voyage across the Atlantic, she had not only been rescued from the enslavement that Gustav had intended for her, but she had been whisked into a marriage with an extraordinary gentleman who was every bit the man she had once aspired to have in a long-dormant fantasy. Yet
Jeff
was no dreamy illusion, but flesh and blood. And he was hers, not theirs. He was immensely charming, delightful to be with, and much more of a courtly gentleman than she had realistically imagined she would ever find in the
wilds
of the Carolinas. Not only that, he seemed a perfect match for her. Where she was weak, he was strong; where she was gentle and submissive, he was firm and aggressive; where she was clever at managing the house, the servants and a host of other things, he was astute at his many business affairs, his horse operation, and running the plantation. In a variety of different ways they complemented each other. Yet above all, they were lovers thoroughly enthralled with each other. The only nagging fear came from the fact that everything seemed
too
perfect. There just had to be a flaw somewhere.

If she were living in the midst of some fairy tale, her existence could not have been more captivating. The spacious ballroom, now aglow with twinkling crystal candelabra and costly chandeliers and aswirl with gracious people, seemed a place of enchantment. Even the rain pattering down upon the roof and the walks twining through the gardens provided a fresh, sweet essence that enlivened her spirit and made her feel a bit giddy, as if she were actually soaring on gossamer wings, like a tiny fairy in an unseen world. It was all too magical and beautiful, yet very, very real, she kept telling herself. She was here! Alive! And this was no fantasy, no child’s illusion.