on earth had he landed himself in this time? Not only did she need to be wooed gently, but her responses were ingrained, a natural part of her that he’d taken care, in their earlier engagements, to encourage. Now they looked set to drive him to the brink of madness. Every time he thought he had their relationship pegged, she invented a new twist to torment him. Mentally gritting his teeth, Jack set about the task of seducing his wife.
Unaware of the trouble she was causing, Kit felt the knots in her stomach ease as Jack’s hands commenced a leisurely exploration of her fully clothed form, his tongue probing the soft contours of her mouth unhurriedly, as if he was willing to spend all night in such intoxicating play. She knew he wouldn’t, but it was a comforting sensation. The kiss deepened by almost imperceptible degrees, his caresses becoming increasingly intimate until she was warmed through. She was glad to slip her arms free of her jacket. Snuggling closer, she pressed her tingling breasts to his chest. His hands roamed her back, molding her to him until her thighs were wedged firmly against his. The evidence of his desire pressed strongly against her stomach. Kit felt a familiar ache grow inside.
What followed was a carefully orchestrated journey into delight. Throughout, Jack held tight to the reins of his desire, not relinquishing his grip even when Kit lay naked beneath him, gasping with desire, her thighs spread, her hips tilting in unmistakable invitation. He sank into her welcoming heat, his jaw clenched with the effort to remain in control, determined that, whatever the cost, she’d have a night of loving she’d never forget.
He filled her and Kit sighed deeply. She closed her eyes, savoring the sensation of being so thoroughly possessed. Her skin was alive, her swollen breasts ached, her body yearned for completion. When Jack moved within her, she bit her lip and held still, sensing his strength, his hardness, his unrelenting need. Then she moved with him, letting her own need flower, feeding and assuaging his. She wrapped her arms about him, wound her legs about his hips, and let the dance consume them. Their bodies strove, intimately locked, heated and slick. As the glory drew nearer, Kit gasped and surrendered-to passion’s flames, to mind-numbing delight, to incandescent sensation.
When, at last, they lay spent in each other’s arms, and Jack felt the last of Kit’s sweet spasms fade as her breathing slowed into blissfully sated slumber, triumphant possessiveness streaked through him.
She was his. He’d recaptured his wild woman. He’d never let go of her again.
With a sigh of contentment, deepened by the glow of achievement, of satisfaction in a job well-done, Jack turned on his side, taking Kit with him, carefully resettling her against him.
Halfway back from paradise, Kit felt his weight shift but was too deeply sated to protest. She’d forgotten what it was like-to lose her wits, to surrender her senses to the conflagration of their desire. Slow and steady she’d wanted; slow and steady she’d got. Jack’s loving was a potent brew; she was addicted beyond recall. There was no hope of denying it, so she might as well accept it as her lot.
Who knew what lay in store-for her, for him? After tonight, whatever happened, she’d have to face it acknowledging that, for her, only one man held the power to open the doors of paradise.
Her husband. Jack-Lord Hendon.
Chapter 25
The next morning, Kit entered the breakfast parlor already flustered by the lateness of the hour. It was not her habit to keep servants waiting on her but she’d slept in, drained by Jack’s method of waking her.
Instantly meeting her husband’s all-too-knowing gaze, and his slow smile, did nothing for her composure. Drawing dignity about her as best she could, she busied herself at the sideboard, praying the blush she could feel warming her cheeks wasn’t visible to the reprobate at the end of the table.
She’d thought he’d have left the house by now-doing whatever it was that gentlemen did-but she’d donned a new morning gown just in case. The delicate primrose shade was a favorite-she hoped he appreciated it. He was looking as hideously handsome as ever, lounging in his chair, long fingers crooked about the handle of a cup, yesterday’s paper spread before him.
Her plate in her hands, Kit turned. The question of where to sit was answered by Lovis, who held the chair at the other end of the table. Ignoring her husband, Kit sat and picked up her fork. From the corner of her eye, she saw Lovis dismissed by a languid gesture.
Jack waited until the door closed behind his butler to remark: “I’m glad to see your appetite’s returned.”
Kit glanced down at her plate, seeing for the first time the mound of rice pie she’d piled on it, two kippers nestling on one side with a serving of kidney and bacon on the other. A slice of ham was laid atop, a dob of pickle in the middle. Head on one side, she considered the sight before replying: “Well, I’m hungry.” It was his fault she was. How dare he tease her about it?
“Quite so.”
Kit glanced up in time to catch his proprietary gloat before Jack substituted a more innocent expression. Her eyes narrowed. She wished she could say something, do something, to wash the smug glint from his eyes.
When she continued to stare, Jack’s brows rose in deceptive candor. “You’ll need to keep up your strength,” he offered. “I suspect you’ll find the role of Lady Hendon unexpectedly tiring.”
Warning flames flickered at the back of Kit’s glare. Jack laughed and, setting down his cup, rose, coming around the table to stand by her side. “I hadn’t intended to leave you so soon, but I’m afraid I have to hie off to inspect some fields. I’ll be back by midday.”
Kit remembered her morning engagement and bit back her request to go with him. She looked up at him, her expression blank. “Mrs. Miles is to show me over the house this morning. No doubt I’ll be so entralled I won’t even notice your absence.”
Jack tried to keep his lips straight and failed woefully. A rumbling chuckle escaped him. He put out one finger and wound it in the curls by Kit’s ear. Then he bent his head and whispered: “Never mind. Why not use the time to consider the more interesting aspects of Lady Hendon’s duties? Perhaps, when I get back, we could discuss those?”
Kit stiffened. He couldn’t mean…?
Jack’s fingers drifted down the sensitive skin beneath her ear. His lips followed, leaving a tickling trail of nibbling kisses. Before she could gather her wits, he tipped her chin up, kissed her full on the lips, and was gone.
Stifling a most unladylike curse, Kit wriggled her shoulders to dispel the delicious shiver he’d sent rippling down her spine, drew a deep breath, and applied herself to her breakfast.
Her morning went in the inescapable task of being ceremonially inducted into the workings of Castle Hendon. The staff was pleasant, clearly pleased to find a local filling Lady Hendon’s shoes. The business of running a household was second nature to Kit-a legacy from her grandmother. She dealt with the staff with an innate confidence that had the inevitable result. By midday, the domestic reins were firmly in her hands.
Jack was not at the luncheon table; Lovis confirmed he’d not yet returned. Used to solitude, Kit walked the extensive gardens, then, tiring of such tame exercise, went upstairs to change into her new riding habit. The day was fine, the breeze beckoned-what better way to spend an afternoon than riding her husband’s lands?
The stables were large, set around two interconnecting yards. Kit wandered along the rows of stalls, searching for Delia’s black hide. The head groom came out of the second courtyard. Catching sight of her, he hurried over, doffing his cap as he came.
“Good afternoon, ma’am.”
Kit waited for him to ask if he could help her. When he simply stood, plainly nervous, twisting his hat in his hands, she took pity on him. “I’d like my horse, please. The black mare.”
To her surprise, the man subjected his hat to a further twist and looked even more uncomfortable. Kit frowned, a nasty suspicion displacing her good humor. “Where is Delia?”
“The master said to put her in the back paddock, my lady.”
Kit put her hands on her hips. “Where is this back paddock?”
The groom waved in a southerly direction. “Over the hills a-way.”
Too far to walk. Before Kit could ask her next question, the groom added: “The master said she was only to be brought up at his orders, ma’am.”
Inwardly, Kit seethed. There was no point haranguing the groom; he was only obeying orders. The person she
