Loving Lord Ash (37 page)

“Ah.” He wanted to believe her, but he’d
seen
her with Percy. “So then what happened that day in the studio?”

She exhaled a long breath. “Yes, we need to talk about that. We should have discussed it eight years ago. Let’s sit down now and I’ll tell you.”

Kit led her over to the settee and sat next to her, his large body comfortingly close.

It was hard to believe he’d never been with a woman.

No, it wasn’t. Her mind had been insisting she’d be a fool to think him anything other than what the rumors said he was—a typical male of the ton—but her heart had known the truth for a while.

But the truth was so preposterous.
Why
hadn’t Kit done what all the other men did? Many married men had certainly propositioned her.

Could he . . . could he love her?

She would not hope.

“Why haven’t you—” She blushed. “You know. No one would have faulted you.”

He shifted on the settee. “I am married. I respect my vows.”

So it was duty and honor that had kept him faithful.

Damn.

Kit squeezed her hand gently. “You were going to explain about Percy.”

Yes. She needed to do that.

“That day at the studio . . . You know my father had just died.”

Zeus, the memory of that horrible day when they’d brought Papa back on a hurdle, his neck broken, his face still and waxen was as clear as if the accident had just occurred. Papa had been laughing and arguing with her in the morning and by afternoon he was gone. It shouldn’t have happened. He was an excellent rider, and he’d made that jump thousands of times.

“I know. I’m so sorry.”

Kit’s arm came around her shoulders. She thought his lips brushed her hair.

Oh, God. Something hard in her chest loosened.

“I had no skills. No family. No place to live. I didn’t know what I was going to do. I’d thought you’d come to see me—”

She was going to cry. She could feel the tears pressing against the back of her eyes and the ugly, harsh sobs straining in her throat to get free. She pressed her lips tightly together. She never cried.

His arm tightened. “I should have come as soon as I reached the castle.”

Oh, damn. She
was
crying. She’d never been a pretty crier like Cicely. Cicely’s tears had trembled on her long eyelashes and then slid one by one down her cheeks—her nose hadn’t even got red. And at least Ellie had been quiet when she cried. But when Jess cried, she gulped and wailed, her nose ran, and her face got all blotchy.

Kit pulled her against him, and she turned her face into his chest. His poor waistcoat was going to be soaked.

“I shouldn’t have expected you to come straightaway.” She saw that now. They’d been friends, not—then—husband and wife. He had other responsibilities. She swiped at her tears with her palms. “You came the next day.”

“I should have come immediately, but I never thought you’d worry so.” He wiped some of the wetness from her cheek with his thumb. “And I shouldn’t have given Percy my handkerchief.”

“He needed it, and I still have mine.” Thank God Madame Celeste had included a small pocket in this gown. She blew her nose . . . loudly. There was no point in trying to be discreet.

She sniffed and blotted her eyes, and then crumbled her handkerchief in her fingers, as if holding it tightly would make the next things she had to say easier.

It wouldn’t. The rest of the story was very ugly, but it had to be told.

“I think I was slightly mad—I certainly wasn’t thinking clearly. When Percy appeared at the studio that day—” She shook her head. “I felt as if I was drowning, and he was the only one who could save me.” She looked up at Kit. “Can you understand that at all?”

He pulled her closer. “I suppose so. But I truly thought you knew my family would never cast you out.”

“They had no reason to see to my welfare, Kit. I was only the groom’s daughter.”

He frowned. “Will you stop saying that? You were my”—he paused briefly. “You were my friend. And even if you had been ‘only the groom’s daughter,’ you must know Mama and Father take their servants’ welfare to heart.”

“Yes, I can see that now, but then . . .”

Then she’d been blinded by panic and loss.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “At first I thought Percy only wanted me to paint him.” She flushed. “I certainly should have stopped him from taking off his clothes, but I . . . I was curious. I’d never painted the naked human form.”

Kit smiled. “Ever the artist, hmm?”

“Yes.” Perhaps Kit did understand, at least that part. He was an artist, too. “But then he kissed me.” She shuddered. Hopefully that was enough detail. “It was horrible, but I thought he’d never behave that way if he didn’t mean to marry me.”

“And he shouldn’t have,” Kit said. “What he did was unconscionable, which I think from what he said tonight he now realizes.” He rubbed her shoulder.

“Did you love him?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“No! Of course not. But I was willing to endure his pawing for a roof over my head.” Shame flooded her. “So I suppose in that way I was a wh-whore.”

Kit turned her, shaking her a little. “No, you were not, Jess, and I am very, very sorry I ever used that word. Can you forgive me?”

His lovely gray eyes warmed her. She nodded, and blew her nose again. She still had to finish the story. It was almost over. Best just to say it quickly.

“Just before Percy—” She bit her lip. “Just before it was too late, I stopped him and asked if he had the special license already. He looked embarrassed, and that’s when I realized he had no intention of marrying me.” She swallowed. “And that’s when you opened the door.”

“Hmm.” Kit frowned. “You know, I think Percy planned things so I would find him with you, though I don’t suppose he could have guessed I’d walk in at such an especially scandalous moment.”

“What do you mean? How could Percy have known you’d come to the studio?”

“Because he heard me say so.” Kit’s mouth flattened into a hard line. “We were up at the castle. I was trying to get free to come see you when Felix Morton cornered me. He fancied himself an artist and said Percy had told him I’d turned our cottage into a studio. Of course he wanted to see it. I tried to fob him off with a promise to show him the place the next day, but there was no dissuading him.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh.’ Morton has a reputation for being infernally tenacious when he wants something. Percy left the room when it was clear I had no polite way to decline Morton’s request. What Percy couldn’t have known was that Mama delayed me a few more minutes.” He smiled a little. “So perhaps he never meant for things to progress quite as far as they did. He was just carried away by his desires. You heard him say he loved you.”

She snorted. “Spare me Percy’s love, then.”

“I think Miss Wharton has done that.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I’m so sorry Percy hurt you, Jess, but I’m even sorrier that I did.”

Which brought her to the crucial question, the one she’d been too afraid to ask until now.

“Why
did
you marry me, Kit? You didn’t have to. You weren’t the one at fault.”

He cupped her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. “I married you because I love you, Jess. I always have.”

And then he kissed her.

Heat flooded her, and need. His tongue slipped between her teeth, deep into her mouth.

This was nothing like the ugly time with Percy. This time she wanted more, much more. As much as Kit would give her. Her hands slid over his body—

No, not his body. His coat and waistcoat. She growled in frustration, leaned into him—

And knocked him off onto the floor.

“Oof!”
He flinched.

“Oh, dear. I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”

“Well, I’m afraid my rump is a bit sore, but there’s no real damage done.”

She scrambled down to kneel next to him. “You really do love me?”

He grinned at her. “Of course I do.”

“But I’m only the Irish groom’s daughter.”

“
Will
you stop that?” He brushed a stray hair out of her face. “I used to think I was too boring for you. I was black and white and gray to your vibrant color. Measured lines to your bold strokes.”

“But that is part of what I love about you, Kit. You’re so intelligent and disciplined and controlled. You were my tether, my rock, my . . . except you weren’t mine at all.”

He grinned again. “I’m yours now, Jess. And as you know, I do want an heir.” He leaned over and kissed her nose. “But more than that, I want my wife—my love.”

She laughed, happiness bubbling up inside her. “Then what are you waiting for? I am at your complete disposal.”

“I was so hoping you’d say that.” He stood, pulling her up with him. “First, let’s burn that silly agreement.”

“Yes, indeed.” She plucked the offending paper off the table, took it over to the hearth, and threw it into the fire. She stood with Kit, their fingers laced, and watched it curl and blacken and turn to dust.

“And now,” Kit said. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve waited eight years to consummate our marriage, and I’d rather not wait a moment longer.”

“I’ve waited eight years as well. Quick is good.” She was suddenly feeling quite desperate. The area he’d touched at the White Stag throbbed in anticipation. “Take off your coat.”

He laughed. “I thought you’d disrobe first, but very well.” He started to wrestle out of his clothing. “I think quick is not normally good, but I’m afraid it’s all I can manage this time.”

“Quick is what I need.” She was almost panting. While he was busy with his coat, she unbuttoned his waistcoat and pulled his shirt out of his pantaloons.

Ah. Kit’s body was beautiful, far more beautiful than any she’d painted. Of course now she was seeing with more than her eyes. She was seeing with her heart.

And she was doing more than looking. Her hands touched Kit’s belly, warm and hard with muscle. They slid higher, taking his shirt with them. His chest was muscled, too, broad and—

Kit finally freed himself of his coat. “Good God, Jess, you’re torturing me. Let me get my bloody waistcoat off, will you?”

“Go ahead. I’m not stopping you.” She pressed her cheek against his chest and breathed in his scent. She heard his heart pounding. She brushed her lips over his skin.

He moaned.

“You’re going to kill me, Jess.” He tore off his waistcoat and started unwinding his cravat. “Or I may strangle myself with this blasted cloth. Why the devil are cravats so long?”

She slid her hands around to his muscled back. Mmm. Her fingers slipped lower....

“Have mercy, Jess.”

She smiled. The time for mercy was past. While he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it up, she attended to his last set of buttons.

“Ah.” Kit’s male organ fell into her hands. It was beautiful, too, at least to her. It was hard, yet soft. Long and thick. She ran her hand over it all the way to the sacks at its base.

Love certainly changed how she saw things.

Kit jerked his shirt over his head, flung it on the floor, and grabbed her hands. “Jess, I can’t take anymore. I am going to totally embarrass myself if you don’t stop.”

“I don’t want to stop.”

“Well, you’re going to have to.” He took her back to the settee and pushed her to sit. “Stay there. Please.”

“Oh, very well.” She grinned. “The view
is
quite appealing. Now if you’ll just remove your pantaloons, I would be completely delighted.”

Kit laughed. “Yes, I’m sure you’d be delighted by the spectacle of me falling on my arse. Let me get my shoes and socks off first.” He went over to the wing chair to accomplish that task.

She watched him as she slipped off her earrings and necklace and put them carefully on a table. She didn’t want to lose such precious gifts but neither did she want to miss—ah, he was standing again. He had long, muscled thighs, but it was the organ between them that most fascinated her.

She might not have experienced copulation, but she understood the theory. Frankly, she’d thought the whole business sounded extremely uncomfortable. She’d certainly expected it to be unpleasant when she’d faced Percy in the studio.

But now she was eager—
all
of her was eager—to embrace Kit. The most relevant part of her anatomy was almost crying with eagerness. It felt empty, needy—

“And now, Jess, it’s my turn to undress you.”

She’d thought Kit would pull her up to stand, but instead he knelt in front of her. He put his hands on her calves and slid her dress up, higher and higher, up to her thighs and then to her waist. She was completely exposed to his view.

She flushed—she was likely blushing down there, too. She tried to pull her knees together, but he stopped her.

“You’re beautiful, Jess. Everywhere. Your knees.” He kissed each one as he untied her garters. “Your soft white thighs.” His fingers stroked the skin there.

She moaned and spread her legs wider.

He kissed one thigh and then the other as his hands slid down her legs to her ankles, taking her stockings with them. His mouth was getting closer to the tiny point that throbbed so insistently.

Embarrassment was only a vague memory. If she was flushed, it was with the heat of desire.

“You smell beautiful, too, Jess. You have your own perfume. Lavender and woman. Warm and welcoming.”

“Ohhh.”

“I wonder how you taste?”

She was panting, and the spot that had been throbbing now pulsed and ached. She jiggled her knees and arched a bit to encourage him to do the terribly shocking thing that his words had put into her head. She wanted him to—

His tongue touched her.

“Oh, oh, Kit.” Her hips twisted, and she arched again. The sight of his head between her legs was beyond scandalous, so she closed her eyes—which made the sensations even more intense. “Yes. Please. Oh, God.”

He made a tsking sound. “I’m not sure you should be using the Almighty’s name in this situation, Jess.”

“
Kit!
Stop. Teasing. Me.”

“You were teasing me earlier if you will remember.” He was laughing at her, clearly enjoying her desperation. “Shall I get back to removing your clothes?”