14

Chapter Twelve

Jason spun; Alyssa stood upon the stairs, now dressed in a stunning gown that hugged her curves delightfully. He smiled, letting loose of Abigail to hold his hands out to her.

"It is nothing, my dear. Especially not something that we should think about today."

Alyssa ducked his arms, walking around him to hold her hand out to Abigail.

"Hello, I don't believe we've met," she said, a welcoming smile upon her face.

Abigail took one look at the expression upon Jason's face and then reached out and shook Alyssa's hand. "No, we wouldn't have. I don't...get out into society much."

"Well, you seem to be well acquainted with my husband," Alyssa said.

"Oh, yes. Jason has been wonderful to me. I just wanted to come and wish you both well," Abigail said, her eyes glittering as she met Jason's gaze. "I've heard so much about you."

"Then you have the advantage on me, Mrs...?"

"It's Miss. Miss Abigail Worth, Your Grace."

"Oh, Alyssa please, any friend of my husband's and all of that."

"Abigail was just leaving, Alyssa. She can't stay any longer." Jason walked up, taking Alyssa's hand and slipping it under his arm.

"Oh, that's too bad. Perhaps we can meet for tea some afternoon. I'd love to know how you know Jason." Alyssa tilted her head, smiling up at her husband.

"That would be lovely, Alyssa. I shall be sure to send around an invitation soon. You'll be staying in Jason's townhouse?" Abigail asked, barely able to keep the cattiness out of her tone as she spoke to the young girl. She could remember being that young and naïve, and being that innocent. But she'd never had a tenth of what this girl did. She'd never had a father that doted upon her every whim. Instead, she had a father who used a ruler upon her hand if she didn't learn her lessons. A father who had drank away every cent that he made until she'd been forced out onto the street.

"Oh yes. It is still very much in need of a woman's touch, but I shall endeavor to deal with its lacking when we return to London," Alyssa said, not noticing the way Abigail's ears seemed to perk at the mention of them leaving town.

"Then I shall be sure to send around that invitation, Alyssa. It was a pleasure to finally meet you," Abigail said, holding out her hand to the girl. She wished she could yank her arm and throw her down the stairs, but managed to keep a pleasant smile upon her face. "Jason, I shall talk to you soon, I expect."

Jason didn't answer, simply going and holding the door open, then shutting it with just a little more force than necessary behind Abigail's highly held head.

"What was that about?" Alyssa asked him.

"It was nothing, my love," he said, coming to her side and taking her in his arms. "Besides, I would much rather talk about us, about you and how beautiful you are. Or about my plans for you this evening," he added as she smiled up at him. "How much longer until we can sneak away from all these people?"

Alyssa laughed at the eagerness in his voice, reaching up to kiss him lightly. She broke off the kiss when he started to deepen it. "Jason, someone will see."

"And what will they see? Just a man, kissing his very comely wife, trying to convince her into sneaking away with him to a bedchamber somewhere, hopefully close by." He raised his brow, winking at her shamelessly.

She blushed gamely back at him. "Soon, my husband, we can get out of here and go to your estate, where we won't be bothered for a while."

She leaned up and kissed him once more before taking his arm and leading him back into the huge ballroom. A shout rose from the happily milling throng of well wishers.

They ate and drank, danced and spoke to all that had attended the function. Jason kept staring at the tall grandfather clock, willing the hands to move more swiftly so that they might hurry their departure. Finally, after the deep throated bonging proclaimed the hour of six p.m., he turned to his Alyssa.

"It's time. I can't wait any longer to make you mine as you are meant to be," he whispered in her ear. "Let us find your father and make our farewells."

Alyssa nodded, suddenly feeling shy and more than a trifle nervous. She rose with him, seeing her father's tall form standing by the edge of the dance floor. He was escorting one of the older ladies off the floor and back to her seat. He turned when he heard her call, a welcoming smile upon his handsome lips. "Alyssa, Jason, is it time for you two to leave so soon?"

"I'm sure you know how it is, Edward. We have a long carriage ride yet tonight," Jason said, though that wasn't exactly true. His country estate was a long ride, but they would be spending their first night as a married couple at his townhouse. Tomorrow morning, they would leave for the estate. But no one knew that, not even Alyssa.

"And I'm betting you can't wait to get her to yourself, Jason. I remember what it was like to be young," he said, laughing as Alyssa blushed even more.

"Father, you aren't old," she said, furious with the fairness of her skin that belied every blush.

"I'm old enough to want grandchildren, daughter."

"We'll do our very best to give you a dozen, sir," Jason said, laughing as Alyssa gaped at him.

Edward grinned; s his daughter was in good hands and he was content.

Though this house would get lonely without her, he'd been anxious to have her settled and content, worried about her future. He'd already been past his prime when he'd met Gabriella, determined not to marry again. But one look at that red-haired vixen had sent his heart pumping and his libido screaming.

He could see that Jason cared for his daughter, and that was good enough for him.

"I don't think you'll want the crowds pelting you with rice," he said, kissing his daughter's cheek. "So, perhaps it's best if you just sneak out."

Alyssa gave her father a hug, feeling more than a little saddened at the thought of leaving him. They'd been each other's only for so long, since her mother's death; it felt wrong to leave him alone now. "I'll visit soon, father," she whispered.

Jason shook Edward's hand and they slipped through the doors, managing to find their coach before anyone knew they were leaving.

Alyssa looked out the window, watching the house disappear with a feeling of surrealism enveloping her. She was a married woman now, no longer a little girl or a debutante. With that thought firmly in mind, she turned on the seat, refusing to watch the house any longer.

"Is it far to your country home, Jason?" she asked, turning her head to look up at him.

"It is a good day's drive at least, love, to our country home. But we shan't have to deal with that tonight. I thought we could stay in town and make that trip in the morning."

"But all my trunks? Everything I brought was taken by the wagon to ..."

"Cat picked out a few items and had them repacked and sent to the townhouse love. You'll have your necessities."

"You do manage to think of everything," she said, her hand rising to lie gently against his cheek, feeling the stubble of his whiskers against her palm.

"I just want to think of you, love. I want you to be happy with me." She couldn't know how true that was, how desperately he wanted her happy with the deal she'd made, with marrying him. He leaned down, taking her lips, letting his cling to hers without making demands. His hand slid to her cheek, his thumb rubbing gently along the faint black shadows that lay under her eye, hating his part in putting them there.

The kiss startled Alyssa, for it wasn't the kiss of desire that she'd expected. This one was so much more than passion or desire. It was a kiss of commitment. One she returned, just as gently.

When his tongue dipped between her lips, Alyssa was lost in an inspired sweet haze. She kissed him back, her tongue darting and rubbing against his, a groan muffled by her mouth. She felt the heat of his breath on her cheek, his hands sliding into the coils of her hair, holding her head still while he explored.

She tasted him, the faint hint of brandy mixed delightfully with the heated flavor of his passion. It stirred her own desire, until her heart beat like a trapped bird against her breast and her stomach tied into knots of need. She whimpered under the exchange, a shiver of pleasure rushing over her flesh. She could feel the wetness of desire growing between her thighs and the deep itch that demanded to be scratched.

His mouth left hers, slipping over her chin, his arms drawing her across his lap. Her hip pressed against the hardness that provided proof of his own need. His lips traveled over the soft flesh of her throat, nipping once, just to hear her squeak. He laughed wickedly, feeling her fingers twine through the soft strands of his hair as her head tipped back, allowing him more access.

The small wrap, thrown around her shoulders before they left, slipped off now, falling unnoticed to the floor. He tipped her further across his arm, his lips tracing the soft curves of her breasts, exposed by the low cut gown. He heard her moan his name and rejoiced, for he had worried that she would think of Jamie during their play.

The idea of being jealous of himself made him smile, for it was such an unbelievable concept. He refused to think of the paradox of his emotions; instead, he concentrated upon her. The scent of her flesh was arousing; the flavor of her skin with its light salty sweetness something to be savored. The feel of her skin under his lips and hands sent his passion's soaring. He slipped one finger beneath the bodice of her gown, pulling it down to expose the hardened tip of her nipple.

It was the first time he'd seen it clearly, for all the other times had been shrouded in darkness. Now, the late afternoon sun shone weakly through the windows of the coach, a beam striking the fire of her hair and setting it to flame. Her breasts were perfect, rounded and heavy, perhaps a bit bigger than before; the nipple hard and rosy pink, begging for his mouth and hand. He flicked it with his tongue, letting her feel the wetness of his mouth without the pressure.

He smiled when her back arched, begging him silently for more. Her hands clenched, drawing his head down once more, feeding her nipple into his mouth. "Jason," she moaned, arching higher, pressing more of her succulent breast into his mouth. "That feels so good."

He played, enjoying her wriggles and cries. Teasing her was almost more than he could stand; he wanted her badly. Hearing his name called in that husky whisper, he had to lean back, ease her gown up and over that turgid berry-colored treasure. He pulled her close and she wrapped herself around him, her arms around his neck as he tried to calm his breathing.

"You are such a wondrous armful, my love. If we'd gone further, our wedding night would have started here in this coach and damn the witnesses."

She laughed, though it came out slightly strangled, and buried her face against his shoulder. Her nipple still tingled from his lips, tongue and teeth.

Deep in her heart, doubt began to grow. Not at Jason, but at herself. What kind of woman was she if two men could make her feel like this? Her mother had told her the facts of life, coming from a family who believed that sex was a natural expression of love.

Gabriella had told her that her first time would hurt, and it had. She'd told her to trust her husband, and she did. Gabriella had told her that when a man and a woman loved each other, what happened between them in the privacy of their bedchambers was absolutely exquisite.

But Alyssa had expected to love her husband. She hadn't expected to feel these doubts, to be wondering about another man when her husband put his hands upon her. To be thinking about someone else when his mouth had been loving her. She forced back the tears that wanted to come, damning Jamie once more to the horrid fires of hell for what he'd done to her.

"Alyssa? Is something amiss, my love?" Jason asked, his eyes noting the faint frown that had settled on her lovely face.

She forced a smile, banishing her thoughts of another man to the far reaches of her mind, hoping to banish him someday from her heart. She had a good man here, one who wanted to be with her; she would think of him.

"Nothing is wrong, love. I just haven't slept well the past few nights."

Jason felt the guilt eat at him again, but refused to give into it now. He would make it up to her. That was all he could do.

They arrived at the townhouse, the servants lining up just inside the door. Alyssa greeted each one as Jason introduced them, knowing that when they returned from the country, she would have to become mistress of this household. It was always good to start off right.

Then she was shown to her bedchamber, connecting doors opening to Jason's next door. Her bag sat upon the small chaise against the footboard of the bed, and was opened, her few things carefully put away.

"Your Grace?" The voice was timid, almost as hesitant as the knock that came from the door that was still ajar.

"Yes," Alyssa said, whirling at the knock.

"May I help you, Your Grace? I am Beatrice, the second floor maid. Your maid, I believe, was sent on already, so I can help with your buttons and such if you'd like."

Alyssa smiled at the timid girl, gesturing her in. "Yes, thank you Beatrice. Your mother is cook here, is she not?"

They conversed quietly, Beatrice's shyness wearing off as she helped her disrobe, pulling out a silky white nightgown that buttoned to the low neckline and clung to Alyssa's curves like a lover's hand. A dressing gown of white satin was put on over this and then Alyssa sat at the small dressing table while the elegant coiffure that had taken so long to do was pulled apart in moments by Beatrice's nimble fingers.

Her hair was brushed until it shone like burnished fire down her back, a few curls left around her face to frame the sweet oval shape of it. At the knock on the connecting doors, Beatrice dropped the brush she'd been wielding, and turned to leave, nodding quickly as Alyssa called her thanks before rushing out the hall door.

Jason came in, his eyes roaming the room until he found her, seated at the small table, her eyes huge, staring at him in his dark dressing gown. He moved toward her slowly, almost as if he was afraid she'd disappear, like some magical being born of moonlight and stardust.

"You are lovely, Alyssa," he said, his voice grown husky with bemusement. She was bewitching, exquisite, her skin like fine porcelain, pale in the light of the candles. "I am afraid to touch you," he whispered, dropping to his knees

next to her. "I am afraid you'll disappear and leave me a broken man."

"I am real, Jason," she said, reaching for his hand and putting it to her cheek. "I am flesh and blood and your wife. I won't leave you," she said quietly, feeling the seductive heat of his palm against her skin.

"Promise?" he asked, his now dark blue eyes searching her smoky ones.

"Of course I promise. My place is by your side, Jason."

He reached out, dragging her from the bench, cradling her in his arms. "There's been a table set up in my room," he said, looking down at her, finding her lips so close to his own, her eyes staring at him. "It is full of food, and wine."

Alyssa noted the heavy beat of his heart pounding against her breast, the heavy-lidded desire in his eyes. It sent her own heart to throbbing. She could smell the clean scent of his skin, feel the heat of his body against her own. "Are you hungry?" she asked breathlessly.

"Not for food or wine," he answered her, his voice barely above a growl. "But we might get hungry later. Much, much later."

With her still in his arms, he walked back through the connecting doors and into his room, a room she had yet to see. It was big, with the bed the focal point. It was a huge monstrosity of a bed with tall posts and an intricately carved headboard. She didn't have a chance to note many details, for he let her slid down his body, her feet barely touching the floor, his arms around her holding her to him. "I've dreamed of seeing you here, like this," he growled, his forehead dropping to hers. "And now that you are, I am afraid."

"Of what?" Alyssa asked, her hands sliding over his shoulders.

"Of so many things, Alyssa. Of hurting you, of being a disappointment, of not being able to control my own passions enough to bring you pleasure. I've wanted you for so long, Alyssa," he muttered, his mouth finding hers.

The kiss was uncontrolled, wildly passionate, wickedly wanton, making her toes curl in the small slippers upon her feet. His lips were hot, his taste like sweet sin as her tongue curled around his, responding just as wildly. She heard his groan, felt him hard against her stomach, pressing into her softness.

"The bed," she murmured, as his mouth pulled from hers, blazing a trail of

lust down her slender throat.

"Yes," he moaned, his fingers pulling at the tie of her satin dressing gown as he walked her backward until her thighs touched the bed. White satin pooled at her feet, leaving her in only the white sheath, the silk glimmering dully in the light of the candles. He stepped back, his eyes roaming over her slender curves, lingering on the round fullness of her breast, the nipples hard under the thin fabric.

Her hands reached out, finding the cord that held his robe closed, pulling on it with fingers that shook with a combination of nerves and passion. The robe opened, showing a strip of hard male flesh, taut and sensually appealing. Alyssa stepped forward, opening his robe more and stepping into its folds, feeling the warmth of his skin through the silk, and that long length now separated from her only by the thinness of her gown.

He groaned at the way she felt, her soft breast pressing into his chest, his cock rubbing against the yielding flesh of her stomach. His hands rose and he stared at them in disbelief, seeing the fine tremor caused by nerves. "I can't believe you affect me this way, Alyssa. I've never wanted a woman the way I want you. I'll make it good for you, my love. I promise you that."

"I know you will, Jason. Touch me," she begged, her hands sliding up over his chest. "Please, touch me. Make me yours."

He shrugged and the robe fell from his shoulders, leaving him bare to her eyes. His hands went to the tiny buttons on the front of her gown, opening them with a frenzy that made her gasp. When it was open far enough, he slid the thin straps from her shoulders and let the material fall in a second pool, silk atop the satin. He lifted her out of it, laying her upon the bed. With infinite care, he pulled off her tiny slippers, setting them aside.

And then his hands were on her legs, starting at her ankles, rubbing upward with gentle strokes. His fingers found the sensitive flesh behind her knees, caressing her with tender touches. He bent his head, his lips finding the soft skin of her inner knee, moving upward until her legs were parted, his hands holding her thighs. He stared at her beautiful, wet pink flesh hidden by the fiery red curls.

His finger stroked through her wetness, playing around her slick, yearning opening, teasing her with tiny flicks of his finger against the hard nub of her clit. Her body twisted under his hands, her fingers twining into the soft coverlet beneath her naked flesh. He heard her whimpers and tiny cries, let them wash over him as the pleasure he created washed over her.

He bent his head, his lips traveling towards her wet cunt. His tongue lapped at her sweet folds, pulling and suckling on her inner lips before finding her clit. He sucked gently upon the hard bud of nerves, listening as she keened her pleasure, the wet spendings that told of her ecstasy flooding his mouth.

Her hands were in his hair, her eyes closed, her face twisted in a grimace as he brought her to climax.