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His hands had cupped the curve of her backside and one slipped lower, his fingers teasing her wetness. “My pleasure, my incorrigible duchess. My pleasure.”
…
The early fog that rolled in through the windows Sebastian had opened sometime during the night obscured the soft rays of the rising sun.
He shifted in the bed, the unfamiliar feel of a female body curved so trustingly into his side startling him for a moment. He had bedded many women, but never had he slept through the night with one. Not even Marissa, his only mistress, as she had belonged to another.
His gut tightened as he recalled the many ways Jocelyn had surrendered to him, over and over through the night. She made love as she did everything else, with boldness and fire. If he had not breached her maidenhead himself, he probably would have doubted her innocence. After the first wave of loving, her unguarded responses had almost bewitched him. She was a fast pupil, and at one point he had felt as though he was the student and she the teacher as she licked and caressed him with a natural sensuality that had drowned him in sensations he had never felt before.
A derisive smile curved his lips and he grunted softy. A simple memory of her hot mouth over his cock had him forgetting how perfidious women were. He must take care with this woman. She could so easily make him want to let down his guard.
He gently eased her head from his shoulder, moving silently to stand before the windows. He drew open the drapes that were only slightly parted. The fog rolled over the hills, casting gray shadows over the land. A soft moan came from the bed and he turned to observe her. She wriggled, murmuring in her sleep. His gut clenched when his name whispered from her lips on a loving sigh, then she settled into deeper slumber.
He was annoyed that he wanted to join her. Instead, he forced himself to turn away, and opened the door to his dressing room. He could not admit his valet to dress him—not with his duchess splayed so wantonly on the sheets. He had not given a thought to how tearing down the walls that separated the two master chambers would affect the logistics of daily life. He only knew he’d wanted no closed doors between him and his future wife. His mother had used the connecting doors like an ice fortress his father had been unable to breach. He’d sworn he would never allow himself to be in such a situation if he were to ever marry. A locked bedchamber would not become a weapon between him and his duchess, ever. And if that meant dressing themselves, so be it. He wanted no other eyes but his on Jocelyn in her present state of undress.
He did not choose to analyze the feeling. He also ignored the yearning to return to the bed and wrap himself around her. He did not possess one of the biggest fortunes in England because he lay abed. He had much to do. His solicitor should be on his way with documents outlining the settlement that would be paid to her father, the sum that he would settle as dowries on his new sisters-in-law, accounts to be opened for Jocelyn at the milliners and modistes, and an amount set for her allowance.
There was no time for idle pleasures.
No matter how much he wanted to return to the unexpected warmth of his new bride’s arms.
Chapter Six
When Jocelyn awoke, she was certain she was in love. The chill in the bedchamber could not daunt her spirits as she untangled her limbs from the linens. The massive drapes were drawn, and the sun poured its rays through the several windows. The panes were closed, but she saw that the fireplace had died to low embers, accounting for the chill in the air.
She felt the most glorious smile lift her lips along with her spirits. Sebastian had been magnificent. She could not fathom why her father told her to be brave, or why Mrs. Winthrop thought anything could be immoral.
But it was true, Jocelyn certainly felt wicked.
The feelings Sebastian roused in her were a surprise, to say the least, but she welcomed them. He was sinfully sensuous, and all hers.
She laughed as she jumped from the bed, ringing the bell for her lady’s maid. She did not have to wait long for Rose, and she bathed and dressed with her assistance. Jocelyn did not want her hair pinned up, but instead she left it uncoiled, brushing against her hips with every sway. She dressed in her very finest yellow muslin morning dress. It was from last season, but it complemented her complexion and the dark luster of her hair.
Curious about the household, she went in search of her husband.
Within a few hours, Jocelyn was sure of two things.
First, she doubted that the glow she’d had when she awoke was love. The feeling had burned away too quickly in her disappointment and anger.
She breakfasted alone in the morning room, having learned that the duke had eaten much earlier and was now ensconced in his library dealing with business matters. She had been undaunted after being warned by the housekeeper, and had entered his private domain without invitation. He had been so cold and remote at her simple query as to how he fared that morning, that she had been completely flummoxed. He had summarily dismissed her, indicating the depth of work he had waiting, and that he would see her for supper.
Supper!
Where had the teasing lover of last night gone? She felt miffed, and more than a little hurt that he had not deigned to speak with her after the wonderful experiences they had shared on their wedding night. Their wedding night. If this was an indication of things to come, things were bound to get tumultuous, for she could not accept such coldness after their firestorm of passion.
She paused on the way to the parlor as a shocking thought occurred to her. What if feeling those incredible things was a common occurrence to the duke, nothing to be in awe and amazement over?
She banished the thought, hating the ugly jealousy that griped her at the mere notion. After a tour of the large, stately manor and speaking with Mrs. Otterbsy, the head housekeeper, Jocelyn realized that the estate ran with a grim efficiency that needed little to no input from her. Everything Mrs. Otterbsy presented to her had been in proper order, and she could find no fault.
The second thing Jocelyn realized was that she was completely and utterly bored. The concept so stunned her that for a few minutes she did not know what to do. She was always occupied at full tilt running Stonehaven, so to now be a duchess who sat on a luxurious cushion with her thumbs twiddling and nothing else to do—it would soon drive her mad.
When she could stand it no longer, she had launched into motion, ordering up the carriage.
She now stood in front of her old home.
The
door flew open before she had a chance to ring the knocker. “Milady.” Cromwell did not look surprised to see her.
She sailed inside, loving the feeling that swept through her as Emma and William spied her from the parlor. Their shrieks rang joyously in her ears as they tumbled into her arms.
“Come now,” she said, laughing. “Have you turned into little barbarians after only a day?”
“I fear they have, Jocelyn.”
She glanced up at the teasing reply of her sister, Victoria. Only a year separated them, and Victoria was her dearest friend. She could see the concern in her sister’s eyes, and Jocelyn smiled at her in reassurance.
“Where is Papa? I will see him first, then visit with you,” she said, shooing the twins.
Victoria went with her as they strolled toward the library. “Are you truly well?”
Jocelyn glanced up to see her searching her face with her expressive hazel eyes—eyes that reminded her so much of their mama. “Yes, I am truly well.”
There was a slight pause and then her sister asked, “Were you brave?”
The surprised laughter that spilled from Jocelyn had Victoria laughing with her. “Oh, goodness, Vicki.”
“You must tell me, sister dear.” Victoria gulped. “Please do not fear for my delicate sensibilities. I must know what happened.”
“Oh, I fear your sensibilities are in for a treat. It was glorious!”
“Was it wicked and immoral?” The question was spoken in a hushed whisper.
Their gales of laughter were cut short by her father opening the library door. He arched his bushy brows at her. “I see you have suffered no ill effects from your evening trek to Norfolk, my dear.” Her father brushed his lips against her forehead in greeting.
“I will have Mrs. Winthrop bring tea and cake, Papa,” Victoria said. “And I will tell Emily you are here, Jocelyn. She has been ensconced in the schoolroom all morning with some medieval text, completely enraptured.” She hurried away, leaving Jocelyn alone with her father.
Jocelyn groaned as she sank into the library sofa. She turned toward her father, loving that he sat beside her instead of behind his desk.
