Good Earl Gone Bad (27 page)

“Jasper?” Hermione asked once he had her up close to his chest. “What happened?””

“Shhh,” he soothed. “Don't talk right now. Let me get you inside and have the doctor look at you.”

“Where am I?” she asked, frowning. Then opening her eyes, she saw that he was carrying her through the stables. “Wait! Jasper, someone hit me in the head. Has something happened to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern?”

“Settle down, my dear,” he said, trying to sound calmer than he felt. “I will tell you everything I know when we get inside.”

And, as if it were too much for her to deal with, she closed her eyes again. “All right, I can wait,” she said softly. “But I do have the most awful headache.”

Jasper had never felt so ready to do murder in his life. Whoever had attacked her, he was going to find out who it had been, and make them pay.

That was a promise.

*   *   *

“Other than a bump on the head,” said Dr. Braeburn a short time later, “I believe Lady Mainwaring is in fine health. Though I must insist that she retire early and take it easy for the next couple of days.”

Hermione wondered if the physician thought it odd to be called to the same house twice in the same day. If he did, he didn't show it.

Once Jasper had carried her into her bedchamber and her maid had helped her into her nightclothes, Hermione had listened in horror as Jasper explained that her horses had once more been removed from her possession.

“But what is it about them that is so special that these people will go to such great lengths to take them?” she wondered aloud once Dr. Braeburn had gone. “I cannot understand it. Surely no horse is worth killing over.”

Quickly, Jasper told her about his conversation with Mr. Vernon at Tattersall's.

“So you think it was the man who came the next day?” she asked with a frown. “Can he really have been so angry at missing the original sale that he would kill because of it?”

“Either that,” Jasper said, “or there might be some other reason that we haven't considered.”

“But what could that be? I just don't understand.”

Seated on the side of her bed, Jasper looked a little sheepish. “There is something I haven't been truthful with you about,” he said finally. “I have been investigating your neighbor Fleetwood, Saintcrow, and the Lords of Anarchy in connection with a ring of horse thieves.”

Hermione's eyes widened. “What? Are you telling the truth?” she demanded.

So many things made sense now. Mainwaring's irrational request for her to stay away from the Fleetwoods. His sudden appearance at Lord Saintcrow's house that day. Even his quick thinking when his father's attack was discovered.

“But why are you telling me about this now?” she asked, puzzled. “I assume it was something you were not supposed to reveal to me. What has happened now that makes it all right for you to inform me about the investigation?”

“Someone hurt you,” Jasper said, his jaw clenched in fury. “I have been telling you as little as possible because that is what I am supposed to do for the sake of my position. But if keeping the truth of the matter from you means that you don't know what is necessary for you to stay safe, then it's a foolish rule. I don't want to see one more person hurt by these thieves who are more concerned with their own hides than the safety of innocent strangers.”

“Oh my dear,” she said, cupping his face in her hand. “I am fine. But I am grateful you've told me, because we can work together now.”

“Now, Hermione,” he warned. “There will be no working together. I told you so that you would stay safe. Which will not happen if you go off trying to solve the thing yourself.”

“I simply cannot believe Fleetwood lived next door the whole time,” she said, her eyes round with shock. “That cannot be a coincidence.”

“I doubt it,” Jasper agreed. “And for some reason he wanted the horses back after he sold them.”

“Hmm,” Hermione said with a frown. “What reason could a man have for wanting to renege on a sale of a coaching pair?”

“If they were stolen,” Jasper posited, “then maybe there was another buyer who would have paid more.”

“But unless the money was a goodly sum that wouldn't be enough to murder over,” Hermione argued.

“If the horses were stolen, perhaps they were afraid someone would be able to tell,” she continued. “As if there were some distinctive marking or some other identifying characteristic that would make it easy to tell it was the missing horse.”

“Like what?” Jasper asked, bending down to take off his boots, then climbing up beside her on the bed. “Do either Rosencrantz or Guildenstern have any distinguishing marks? I know there are no blazes or socks…”

Hermione moved into the circle of his arm and leaned her head back against him. “Other than Rosencrantz's dislike of having his snout rubbed, I can't think of any. They are wonderful horses and easy to drive, but I cannot think of anything that particularly distinguishes them from any others. And one can hardly call being adaptable to various harnesses a distinguishing characteristic.”

She yawned. “Maybe we should sleep on it.”

“Maybe you should sleep on it,” Jasper corrected, kissing the top of her head.

Too tired to argue, she closed her eyes. And just before she drifted off, she heard him say, “Don't scare me like that again. I don't know what I'd do without you.”

*   *   *

Hermione came awake some time later with a start, as her mind and body jolted with the memory of being struck upon the head. For a moment, her pulse raced and she felt herself falling to the floor of the stables again, and she cried out in protest.

“What is it?” Jasper asked.

And she realized that she'd been asleep in his arms, her head pillowed against his naked chest. “A bad dream,” she said, pulling away to get her breath, and let her nerves settle.

“You were remembering,” he said softly, stroking a hand over her back.

“How did you know?” At times it was unsettling how he seemed to know just what she was thinking. For someone who had been forced to fend for herself for so long, it was at once comforting and disturbing.

“For days after the accident that killed my father,” Jasper said, his hand warm through the fine lawn of her night rail, “every time I tried to sleep I would start awake with the memory of impact, of hurtling through the air. It was as if my mind were trying to rid itself of the recollection, but the only way to do it was to experience it again.”

“That's it exactly,” Hermione said, turning to look at him. “I feel it all again, the blinding pain, the sensation of my legs giving out from beneath me, of falling to the floor.”

Wanting the comfort of his arms around her again, she went to him, tucked her head into the crook of his neck. Had it really been only a few days since they'd shared this bond? This closeness?

“I am sorry you had to go through that,” he said, his voice rumbling beneath where her ear lay against his chest. She felt him kiss the top of her head.

Lying there in his arms, feeling his strong body against hers, inhaling his scent that was unique to him, she suddenly wanted to feel more of him.

She lifted her head and though her heartbeat now quickened for a different reason, she embraced boldness and met his gaze. There was heat there, and affection, and suddenly she knew that if she did not kiss him she would go mad with wanting.

He watched her through heavy-lidded eyes as she touched her lips to his. Once, twice, before gently opening her mouth over his and darting her tongue out to stroke along the seam of his lips. And suddenly all diffidence was lost as she gave herself up to their shared passion.

She felt his hands slide up to pull her closer, and she gave a little whimper as his tongue slid over hers and their kiss grew hotter and more intense.

Her breasts peaked against the hard warmth of his chest, and suddenly she had to be skin to skin. Pulling back, she moved to straddle him, the texture of his breeches slightly rough against the sensitive skin of her thighs.

“Let me help with that,” Jasper said with a growl that made her center clench. And taking each side of her night rail's neck in his hands he ripped it down the middle.

At her astonished gasp, he pushed the gown off her shoulders and moved his mouth close to her ear, whispering, “Gowns can be replaced.”

And then they were fused together, their mouths eager, their hands exploring, their hearts beating to the same frenzied rhythm.

“So beautiful,” Jasper whispered as he kissed and licked his way down to the spot where her neck met her shoulder, scraping his teeth over the prominence of her collarbone.

Hermione's hands threaded through his hair as she felt his mouth close around her nipple, and at the suction there, she bit back a cry. Every pull of his lips sent a throb of awareness through the very center of her, and before long, she found herself shifting against him, restless and needing to be touched.

“Don't worry, sweet,” Jasper said against her breast, “I'll take care of you.”

And she felt his hand slide down to stroke over her where she needed him most. His fingers slid along her wet core, the teasing touch sending every ounce of Hermione's concentration there where her body strained to meet his hand.

Her hips bucked when he lightly scraped his teeth over her sensitive nipple, while at the same time his finger stroked into her, where her body craved him.

When he lifted his head, she almost wept, though her movements below didn't slow. But he was only moving to offer the same attention to her other breast, and when he connected there, he stroked a second finger inside her.

“I need more,” she gasped as she continued to move against him. “I need you inside me, Jasper.”

“Then you shall have me,” he said in a low growl.

Panting, Hermione moved off him so that he could strip off his breeches and smallclothes, and she stared in the lamplight at his freed erection.

Unable to stop herself, she reached out to stroke her thumb over the bead of moisture glistening there. And she could tell from the way his breath changed that he liked it.

But when she enclosed her fist around him, Jasper took her hand by the wrist and gently pulled it away. “I like it very much,” he told her in a strained voice, “but I want to lose myself inside you.”

And then he was kissing her again, and Hermione felt her world shift as he reversed their positions until her back was against the softness of the sheets.

Pulling him to her, she gasped with pleasure at the feeling of his skin against hers from head to toe. And when he slid his body down, the friction of it was almost too much to bear.

But when she felt him kiss his way down over the slight roundness at her belly, headed lower and lower, she protested. “What are you doing?”

He looked up at her, and Hermione almost forgot her pique at the sight of him braced over her spread legs. “Do you trust me?” he countered, his blue eyes dark with intent.

“Yes,” she said, though her heart beat furiously at what he might intend to do. It was one thing for him to touch her there, but …

“Then let me do this,” he said, lightly kissing her hipbone. “I promise that if you don't like it, I'll stop.”

Then her traitorous body clenched at the possibilities of his intent, so Hermione nodded. And when she felt his hot breath against her most sensitive skin, and then the stroke of his tongue, she knew she'd give anything to keep him from stopping.

Over and over again, he licked and bit and sucked until her hips began to buck, only moving more when he added his fingers into the mix. But when he closed his mouth over her sensitive bud, it was simply too much to bear, and as her body pulsed around his fingers, she floated away in a tide of mindless pleasure until nothing existed but feeling.

When she came back to herself, Jasper had moved up to brace himself over her, his mouth covering hers. Tasting her own pleasure on his lips was more intoxicating than whisky.

“I take it you liked it,” he asked with a self-satisfied grin. “I didn't hear any objections.”

“You know I did,” she said primly. “Now,” she continued, lifting her knees to come up on either side of his hips, “I want you.”

“Then,” he said, his eyes dark with desire, “have me.” And in one thrust, he pressed into her, the pleasant stretch of fullness heightened when the pulses of her earlier orgasm reignited.

Jasper kissed her, and began to move, the friction of every thrust setting off waves of pleasure where they joined. And every time he pulled out, she lifted her hips, and her inner muscles clenched as if trying to hold him inside a moment longer, until they were moving together in a perfectly calibrated dance of desire.

Every thrust edged her closer to the brink of some unseen precipice, as she strove for something she could not name. All she knew was that if she stopped, she'd die. And when he began to press harder, gripped her hips with his strong hands, to hold her in place, Hermione felt herself begin to splinter. Her body began to pulse around him again, and when he moved his hand between them to stroke his thumb over her there, she cried out. Her hands gripped tightly to his shoulders as she felt herself throb around him and she tumbled over the brink into the abyss.

 

Twenty

“I think,” Jasper said into Hermione's hair once they had regained their composure, “we are very good at that.”

“I don't know what to say to that,” Hermione responded with a laugh. “Having had no other experiences of it, who am I to say that you are a better partner for me than some other man?”

He tightened his arms around her, possessiveness overtaking him at the thought of any other man taking his wife to bed.

His wife. The very word brought forth a maelstrom of protective feelings, urged him to cling tight to her lest some other man try to take her away.