Then Comes Seduction

And Lady Forester had come, though she had pointedly ignored both Jasper and Katherine since before the tug-of-war-which had sent Jasper back to the lake along with Stephen and Winford Finley and the other nine men who had been on the losing team.

The second set was to be another one of country dances. Stephen had already claimed Charlotte’s hand. Uncle Stanley came to claim Meg’s. Katherine watched Jasper approach across the room, chatting with a few of the guests as he came, a look of open good humor on his face.

I love you, he had said this afternoon just as if he had not noticed that everyone out on the east lawn had paused to watch his purposeful approach to her and to listen to his words.

I love you.

They were words he had spoken before. But he had never spoken them in just such a way. Not for one moment had she doubted that he meant them this time. And she still did not doubt though they had had scarcely a moment to themselves since then.

I love you.

He stopped in front of her now and smiled.

“You are not going to force me to dance again so soon, are you?” he asked her. “I do not know when was the last time I danced more than once at any ball, Katherine. And until this spring even once would have been once too often.”

She smiled at him.

“I will waltz with you later,” he said. “I will insist upon it, in fact. Husband’s privilege. That will be two sets in one evening. A record breaker.”

He grinned and she laughed.

“Oh, go,” she said. “Go and play host with the card players if you must.”

“That is not my point at all,” he said. “I want to go for a walk. But only if you will come with me.”

She ought not. Goodness, they were the host and hostess, and the ball had begun only half an hour ago. But everything was proceeding smoothly. Their constant presence was not strictly necessary. And there was a look in his eyes…

There was always a look in Jasper’s eyes.

“Oh, very well,” she said. “If it will make you happy…”

“It will make you happy too,” he said, allowing his eyelids to droop over his eyes for a moment and his voice to drop half an octave. “I promise.”

They crossed the floor together just as the music was about to begin and went out through the French doors onto the balcony.

“It was not much of a revenge, was it?” he said, placing one hand over hers on his arm. “Was it even marginally adequate?”

“It was quite, quite splendid,” she assured him. “It was wonderful. There was no violence. He was made to look like a fool, but he did it to himself. He might have fought and lost with dignity, but you knew he would not, and so you chose perfectly.”

“Of course,” he said as he led her across the balcony toward the steps down onto the lawn, “the whole thing would have rebounded upon me if he had knocked me in. And it might have happened.”

“Never in a million years,” she assured him.

“But perhaps in a billion?” He raised his right eyebrow and looked down at her. “Do you have so little faith in me, Katherine?”

“Besides,” she said, “if he had knocked you in, you would have come up laughing and making a joke at your own expense, as you did after the tug-of-war. And you would have congratulated him.”

“And felt like a prize idiot,” he said.

“Yes, and that too.” She laughed. “Did you hear me say thank you? I did say it. And I meant it. Thank you for avenging me so well.”

The music was playing behind them-in their ballroom, at the summer ball, for the enjoyment of all their neighbors. It would be the first of many, but she knew she would always remember this one as being very special.

“Happy?” he asked against her ear as they turned the corner onto the upper terrace.

“Happy,” she said.

There were a few people down in the parterre garden. But he led her across the terrace and across the east lawn, where the races had been run this afternoon. It was deserted now.

So was the beginning of the wilderness walk, the section of tall trees that she had likened to a cathedral.

They had not spoken for a while.

Their hands were joined, their fingers laced.

He stopped when they were among the trees, turned her off the path, and set her back against one of the sturdy trunks. He placed one of his hands beside her head. She could just see him in the moonlight that was filtering down from above.

“Deja vu,” he said softly.

And she remembered Vauxhall.

“I love you,” she whispered to him.

“To be continued,” he said. “And now, my love, we will continue-without an audience.”

She had forgiven him.

He had pledged himself to love her and had done it. He had promised himself that he would bring her to love him and she had just said she did.

He had made a friend of her.

He had avenged-to a certain degree anyway-Clarence’s horrible insults.

They could, he supposed, proceed to live happily ever after-or at least happily. Actually he had no interest in happily-ever-after. It was on a par in his mind with the idea of going to heaven and playing a harp for eternity. It sounded dashed boring. Happiness, on the other hand, was a state much to be desired.

But he had still not fully atoned. Not really.

Somehow they had to go back to Vauxhall and put it all right-create memories that would obliterate the old.

He lowered his head and kissed her, tasting her lips, teasing them apart, moving his tongue over the soft, moist flesh behind them, sliding it deep into her mouth.

All without touching her anywhere else.

Her palms were flat against the tree trunk.

“Shall we do it as it ought to have been done that night?” he asked her.

“It ought not to have been done at all that night,” she said gravely.

“Quite right.” He smiled at her-he could just see her face in the darkness. “Shall we do it as it ought to be done tonight, then?”

“Yes,” she said.

He had never coupled with any woman while they were both still on their feet, he realized as he lifted her skirts and unbuttoned his breeches. Which was strange really when he considered all the times…

But he was not interested in any time that had not been with Katherine. Or any time that was not now.

It was not particularly easy. He stepped between her spread legs, held her firmly by the buttocks, half lifted and tilted her, bent slightly at the knees, and thrust upward into her.

Not easy, but dashed erotic, by Jove.

Her muscles clenched about him.

By Jove and by thunder!

She gripped his shoulders, arched her back so that her bosom was pressed against his chest, and tipped her head back against the trunk. Her eyes were closed, her teeth clamped on her lower lip.