She unpinned her hair and unwound her braids.
“You have never listened to anyone other than yourself,” she said to the woman in the mirror. “Your instincts have never betrayed you.” She’d known Chippenham was a cad the moment he touched her on the dance floor. In a sea of gossip full of silk-clad sharks, she’d found true and loyal friends. “What do you think of him?”
Jasper’s irreverence was contagious. She had laughed more since the house party than she had in months. It was freeing, like racing down the hill with her heart thudding in time to her horse’s hooves. She lacked for nothing, but she was also valued. He didn’t love her, but he acted as though he liked her. He certainly wanted her.
Her nipples drew tight against her nightdress. She definitely wanted him.
Was he dangerous? Yes, he was. He was intelligent, observant, and disarming. But, more than that, the pleasure he offered required her to reach for it, and she believed freedom waited on the other side of it. Finding that, only to lose it, would be devastating. Never reaching for it, however, would be tragic.
She smacked the brush to her dressing table, making the hairpins jump. “Your husband is not a traitor.”
The words soaked through her, and they felt right. True. They brought along an emotion that also felt true, one she didn’t dare acknowledge.
A breath of air fluttered the hem of her nightdress against her ankles. Annabel turned to find Jasper in the open doorway between their rooms, staring at his hand on the knob.
“How long has this been unlocked?”
“Since last night.” She rose from the chair on shaky knees and walked toward him at what she hoped was a normal pace.
“Annabel, I—”
She didn’t want to talk about last night. She didn’t want to know where he’d been or what he’d done. “Why did you try it?”
His blue dressing grown was tied at the waist, resulting in a vee that displayed dark gold hair swirling over the center of his chest. The hem stopped just above his feet. Seeing his bare toes made him seem as vulnerable as she felt. It made this easier.
“Wishful thinking, I suppose.” He took her hand and tugged her over the threshold.
Where her room was painted a color that reminded her of fresh cream, his was a blue as dark as the night sky. What wasn’t painted was covered by mahogany panels.
There were probably other differences. She knew there was other furniture because he guided her around it as he walked backward toward the bed. Where her drapes were trimmed with fringe, his had ribbon. Her sheets were edged with lace. His were plain and square.
“I like your room better than mine.”
“Change yours if you wish.”
He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her until she was dizzy from it. The only thing anchoring her to the ground was his hand covering her breast as it had been in the library, as she’d wanted all through dinner.
“Do you have an idea of what to expect?” he asked before sweeping his tongue along her jaw to her ear.
All Annabel could do was nod. Her mother’s explanation had been hurried and likely incomplete because, as Jasper circled his thumb around her nipple, she believed there was nothing she’d have to endure.
His other hand loosened her gown, and the laces slithered against her skin as they gave way. “If I make you uncomfortable, we’ll slow down.” Heat pooled in places that were only warm with him. “If I hurt you, we’ll stop.”
There was a breath of warm air against her shoulder as he covered her breast with his hand. She thought his fingers might have been shaking, but that was impossible, especially when he rolled her nipple between those same fingers. Zings of pleasure ricocheted through her core to her knees, then her toes.
“Otherwise, anything we do to one another, all pleasure we give each other, is allowed.”
Her gown slithered from her shoulders, past her hips, to her feet. His gaze flicked over her like firelight. Her breath sped as though she’d run for years to get here.
“Christ. You are stunning.”
Any woman would be beautiful in shadow.
“Don’t, Annabel.” He swept his hand through her hair. “Topaz.” Down her back. “Silk.” Around her ribs. “Strength.” He brushed his lips over her forehead. “Wisdom.” Over her eyes. “Kindness.” Across her lips. “Sweetness.”
Tears flooded her eyes as she wound her fingers through his thick hair. “Jasper…”
“You are my wife,” he whispered against her mouth. “And you are the loveliest woman in London. And if you don’t put your hands on me, I’m going to shake to pieces.” He tugged her fingers from his hair and slid them under his robe. “Please, Annabel.”
The hair on his chest reminded her of sheep after shearing—short, soft curls clung to her fingers, coaxing her to explore his broad chest and hard muscles. His bones were thick, but she still felt his heart thudding against her palm.
The tie at his waist gave easily under her fingers, and then he was naked in front of her.
During her mother’s explanation of wifely duties, Annabel had been tempted to confess that she’d found Father’s illustrated anatomy encyclopedia on the top shelf of the library years earlier. She wasn’t sure whether Mother would be scandalized or relieved.
Annabel felt…cheated. The flagging manhood in the drawings had little relation to the erect specimen in front of her that was almost as wide as her wrist.
Butterflies went through her stomach as she swept her tongue over her much-kissed lips. Men and women did this all the time. No one died from it. “It will be fine.”
Jasper curved his fingers around her waist and pulled her close. His stiff shaft was hot against her stomach. His eyes glittered like a satyr’s. “If it’s not better than fine, I’ll chew off my tongue.”
Her laughter ended on a gasp as he avoided kissing her, but then he closed his lips over her nipple and sucked it deep into his mouth. Annabel’s knees buckled as a deep moan rushed over her tongue.
Embarrassment heated her skin. “I’m sorry.”
Jasper lifted his face from her body but didn’t release her. “For?”
“That noise was—”
