picture was eternal. These same stars would blaze down on Beth and Jon’s children, and on their children’s children. Nothing would change.
And yet, tonight everything would change. Children…He had told Beth that he knew the way of preventing conception, but she had not asked him to promise to use it. If Beth were not a virgin, she would never agree to marry him, so he was duty-bound to ensure that no child resulted from what they did together this night. He owed her that. But what if he found that he was holding a virgin in his arms? He fully expected it to be so. What then? She had promised to accept his proposal if there were no risk of bigamy. And the purpose of marriage was children, was it not?
He shook his head. High above, the dog-star seemed to wink at him. ‘Yes, I know,’ he murmured, gazing up at it. ‘I am trying to find an unselfish reason for following my own selfish desires. And yet, the risk of pregnancy could make matters easier, later.’ He shook his head again, trying to clear his thoughts. This was no time for logic- chopping.
He allowed himself one last glance up at the star-mapped sky. ‘I will make it good for her. I promise.’ He turned and opened the door.
She had put back the hood of her cloak and was kneeling on the rug in front of the hearth. Even across the full length of the room, he could see that her shoulders were shaking. Poor girl, she must be terrified. And he had been communing with the stars?
He closed the door quietly, not to frighten her, before setting down his hat and whip and striding across the room to kneel beside her. ‘Oh, my poor Beth,’ he began gently, putting a comforting arm round her shoulders.
The face she turned up to him was not stricken, not in the least. It was alight with laughter.
‘Beth?’
‘Tea!’ The single word was barely a croak. She was laughing too much to be able to control her voice.
He looked down at the tea tray he had ordered. It was unusual, to be sure, but it had seemed a good idea. Comforting, unthreatening.
‘Tea!’ she said again, on a throaty chuckle.
He was trying very hard to keep his face straight, but he knew he was not really succeeding. ‘I thought you might be glad of it, after our cold midnight ride.’
‘And indeed I am, sir. See, I have set the kettle to boil.’ She had swung the kettle fully over the fire. ‘But I must tell you that this was not quite what I was expecting.’
‘Oh?’ He raised an eyebrow.
‘I had imagined champagne, or something equally decadent.’
‘You may have champagne, or brandy, if you wish. I have both here. I could even make you hot rum punch if you had a fancy for it.’
She shook her head, trying not to smile.
‘No, I thought not. Remember that we are friends, Beth. After this night, we will soon be man and wife. And still true friends.’
Her expression became more serious, but she did not protest. They both knew the condition. There was no point in belabouring it.
‘True friends enjoy each other’s company and seek to provide for each other’s comfort. In your case, tea seemed to be the ideal solution.’
Beth touched her hand to Jon’s arm. ‘You are a good friend, sir.’
‘No. No, I will not permit that. Not when we are alone. You will not call me “sir” as if you were an inferior. You are to be my wife, my countess. My name is Jon. Jonathan if you must, but I should prefer Jon.’
Her eyes widened and misted for a moment. ‘Jon,’ she said slowly, lingering over the sound as if testing it, tasting it with her tongue. ‘For this night at least, it shall be as you wish.’
Chapter Ten
The orange and red of the fire was vividly reflected in her wide, glowing eyes. Her laughter had been infectious, and good to hear, for it meant that she was not afraid. She was doing what she wanted. And with a full heart.
He took both her hands in his-as he had done so many times before-and gently raised her. But this time, there was no chaste kiss on her white skin. This time, he raised first one hand and then the other to his lips and took finger after finger into his mouth, sucking greedily. Reaching her second index finger, he began to nibble her flesh, too.
She gave a little yelp of surprise. Then it mellowed into a sigh of acceptance, and pleasure.
By the time he came to the ring finger of her left hand, he was desperate for more than this. He swallowed it to the first knuckle, and the second, then slowly pulled his mouth away again, in a long drawn out kiss, revelling in the trail of heat and desire he was leaving behind him. On this finger, she would wear his ring. He paused, holding the very end of her ring finger lightly between his lips and stroking its fleshy pad with the tip of his tongue. She tasted wholly delicious.
She groaned, deep in her belly. It was the sound of willing surrender. At last. Jon pulled her into his arms and began to plunder her soft, yielding mouth. She was almost as eager as he, though her lack of experience was just as obvious as on that first occasion. She wanted him. She wanted
Jon told himself to go slowly, to take her with him every step of the way, to show her how to relish the moment, the touch, the feelings that they would enjoy together. He would make it beautiful for them both.
He drove his hands deep into her hair. From far off, he heard the tinny sounds of metal-hair pins?-clinking on the hearth as her hair tumbled and settled in silken waves around her shoulders. He was holding her head steady for his kiss, but she was avid for him, too. She dug her hands under his waistcoat and round to his back where her fingers gripped and tugged at the fine linen of his shirt, trying to reach his skin.
This was not the slow, gentle seduction he had intended. He forced himself to break the kiss and take a pace back, dropping his hands.
‘Jon?’ His abrupt movement had loosed her frenzied grip on his flesh. Her face was glowing in the firelight, but with far too much colour now. She was embarrassed again, poor girl. She thought… He did not know what she thought, but he did know he must reassure her.
‘We go too fast, Beth.’ He spoke softly, stroking the back of his fingers soothingly down her cheek. ‘You are very lovely, but I fear my desire is driving me faster than is wise.’
She swallowed hard, but when she looked up at him again, her eyes were defiant. ‘You forget, sir-’ she began proudly. ‘Pray do not forget, Jon,’ she repeated, rather more gently, ‘that I am a willing partner here.’
By the time he had removed her cloak and turned to lay it aside, Beth’s breathing had become fast and shallow. Not fear, but desire. She might be innocent-he was sure of that in his own mind-but even an innocent could be overtaken by the human body’s natural urges. Jon’s task was to fan those flames. The slightest mistake on his part could damp her natural fires and ruin this night for her. That must not happen.
When he turned back to her, he saw that she was starting to undo the neck of her simple gown, in the sort of practical, matter-of-fact way that he had come to associate with Beth Aubrey.
‘No,’ he whispered, laying his fingers over hers. ‘Pray allow me. This gift you are offering me needs to be unwrapped very, very slowly. It would be generous indeed if you permitted me to do this. Please, Beth.’
‘I- Oh.’ She coloured again until her skin was like a ripe peach, its luscious flesh concealed beneath the dark bloom, inviting a lover’s bite.
‘But if you keep looking at me like that, my dear girl, I shall find myself hard put not to simply tear off your gown.’ That was nothing less than the truth, for she looked good enough to eat.
