“I’ll be happy to help keep you honest,” she whispered.

His mouth watered to the point of embarrassment, and his tongue was so heavy it was difficult to speak. “Honest is both the first and last thing I want to be around you.” He lowered his head toward hers.

She met him halfway, and her warm, sweet mouth was both a relief and a torment. Jasper tasted her, searching for her secrets in the flavor of her tongue, and then teased it into his mouth so she could do the same. She was a quick and eager pupil, his wife.

Annabel’s touch on his arm, warm through his cotton shirt, sent a jolt through him that stopped his breath. She seemed content to leave it there, her fingers toying with the fabric as she starved him of air. It made him think of her hands on his skin, his hands on hers.

Jasper gathered her to him and left her mouth in favor of her jaw. Her dress did little to hide the warmth of her and the way her breath shivered with every swipe of his tongue. When he reached her ear, he felt her gasp as well as heard it. It rippled through him like a pebble skipping over a pond.

She swept her hand up his arm, and her fingers brushed his neck before burrowing into his hair. It was the most innocent caress he’d had in years, likely since his first kiss, and it inspired every indecent impulse.

He cupped her breast, relishing the weight of it. Annabel rewarded him by arching into his hand, driving her hardened nipple into his palm.

Jasper teased it with his thumb until she was squirming closer and whimpering with each breath. She made him hungry in a way few others had. Not young wives bored of their older husbands or practiced flirts in Paris brothels.

One tug had Annabel in his lap, her knees on either side of his hips. Jasper resumed kissing her, stroking his tongue into her mouth as he rocked her against his length, asking for what he wanted in the basest way possible.

Her hips shivered against his fingers, and her breath caught as she placed her palm against his chest. Jasper stilled, though he needed her like he needed air. It was always important to him for his partner to be willing, that she understood the choice she was making. It was doubly true with his wife.

The movement under his hands might have been his imagination, but the second one was a definite flex. Slow, as though she was learning the feel of him—or trying to kill him. The third was a strong, certain rock.

Thank God, thank God, thank God.

Jasper pulled her mouth to his and tangled their tongues together until he could close his lips around hers and suck. Annabel’s nails scraped his chest through his shirt. Jasper did it again, knowing she’d learn the trick. Her groan rattled through him, stoking his hunger until he ached.

Her lips closed over his tongue and drew it into her mouth.

She deserved better than rutting half-dressed on the floor in his office. He deserved to see her naked with her hair in knots and her skin flushed pink all over. They weren’t going to get that—at least not this time. He curled his fingers around her skirt.

Pain lanced through his hand from his fingertips to his forearm. “Damn.”

Annabel leapt from his lap, her eyes wide. “What did I do?”

Jasper grasped her fingers for fear she’d run from the room. “Everything right, I swear. It’s not you.”

“Your hand.” Her gasp had nothing to do with sex. It was just as well; the pain had distracted them both.

She freed herself and tugged the bellpull. Stapleton’s double-time march up the stairs was as comforting as it was comical. He entered without knocking and rushed forward when he saw Jasper prone on the floor. The color drained from his face. “My lord?”

Jasper wasn’t certain if his concern was born from years of military training or if Kit had told him to keep an eye on Annabel. One was understandable; the other was becoming an irritation. “I’m fine, Stapleton. It’s nothing.”

“It is not nothing,” Annabel said. “Stapleton, his lordship came home with an injury to his hand. Please send for the doctor and have a maid bring up ice from the icebox.”

“Travis has medical training, my lady. Might I suggest…”

“Of course.” Annabel nodded. “That is a much better solution, thank you.”

Jasper pushed himself up from the floor, wincing, and dropped into his chair.

“Are you certain you should move?”

“I’ve injured my hand, dearest, not my back.” He snorted a laugh. His libido and pride were wounded as well, but Travis wouldn’t have a remedy for them.

Travis came into the room and took the ice from the maid when she arrived. His examination was quick and relatively painless. “Just a bruise, I believe, but a bad one.” His grin was that of a soldier used to skirmishes and victories. “The other man, however, may be the worse for wear.” He stood. “Keep ice on it, my lady. It will help ease the swelling.”

He left them alone, closing the door behind him. Annabel rested against the desk, standing half stooped to keep the towel-wrapped ice on his knuckles. Her eyes were full of questions.

Jasper pulled her to his knee and kept her hand in his good one, twining their fingers. “Chippenham was at White’s.” He thought it best to leave out Granville and his wager.

“Is that why you came home in your shirt sleeves?”

“No.” He glanced at his discarded coat and waistcoat. Would she believe he had removed them at the door? “There wasn’t a boxing match. I ambushed him in the bar.”

Her lips quirked, sparking a light in her eyes. “I wish I could have seen that.”

His laughter shook them both. “I’ll do a command performance at the next ball, just for you.”

“With your other hand, please.” Her giggle revived his flagging cock.

“Yes, dear.” He pressed a kiss to her temple and let his nose rest against her hair. She smelled of spring, though he thought he could smell something of himself on her now. “He won’t be asking you to dance—or anything else—again.”

She brushed her lips across his cheek. “Thank you, Jasper.”

The house was alive with noise, piano practice and servants on the stairs. Carriages rattled past outside, and the downstairs clock chimed the half-hour. The dressing gong would be next. Their lives were not their own.

A month-long honeymoon on the Continent had always seemed frivolous and unnecessary. New wives returned with wardrobes, and new husbands replenished their stables. When they attended balls, they seemed as distant as they’d been before the wedding.

Given the nature of their engagement and wedding, Jasper had considered it a waste of time and money. Annabel had agreed.

Her kisses hinted that perhaps she’d changed her mind. They had certainly changed his.

But they’d lost the opportunity for a long trip to anywhere private. However, a break in Parliament’s schedule and a traveling coach could be a decent substitute.

“We should visit the country while Parliament is in recess,” he said, hoping he sounded decisive. She was no longer in the throes of passion and might have changed her mind. “Just the two of us.”

“I would like that,” she said in a whisper. After a moment, she straightened her spine. “We could do our audit while we’re there.” Her businesslike tone made him smile. “And visit with the tenants and—”

He put his finger on her lips. “We can do anything.”

The dressing gong rang through the house. Annabel, her cheeks pink, stood. “I’ll make preparations for the end of the month.”

Two weeks? He was supposed to be under the same roof with her, sharing a wall but not touching her, for a fortnight?

Fuck privacy.

Her skirts swayed as she walked away from him. She didn’t need to know that he’d knock on her door tonight, did she? Honesty didn’t equal no surprises at all, did it?

She paused at the door. “Where’s your hat?”