considering visiting Italy whilst you are in Ireland with my cousin, studying his breeding methods, eyeing his horses, and attending races.”
Jason felt a sock of lust that nearly knocked him over; he knew he was getting hard, just standing there, for God’s sake, just looking at her.
He said in that easy voice of his, “I understand that Venice is lovely in the fall. Not too cold as yet, the winds still calm over the canal. My brother and I visited Venice some three years ago. And yes, both of us got drunk enough one night to fall into the canal.”
“I think perhaps I should prefer Florence. There are so many splendid artists working there. No drunken young gentlemen to disturb me.”
“There are drunken young gentlemen everywhere in the world to disturb you, don’t fool yourself.”
She giggled, shaking her head at him. “When you visit The Coombes, you will be attending the races with men who will surely try to fleece you.”
Jason said, stroking his chin, “I might do some fleecing of my own. Now, I’m not at all certain about Florence. All those splendid artists died out centuries ago. Unfortunately, I fear their thousands of paintings, all of the Madonna and Child, will endure forever. We will never be free of them.”
She was hiccupping she was trying so hard not to laugh. He patted her cheek, and left her, saying only over his shoulder in that offhand way of his that he was meeting with some friends.
She called out, serious now, “You mean there might be some information about your father?”
He only shrugged and left her again, this time without turning back.
Judith watched him until he was gone from the immense ballroom. She turned when Lady Arbuckle said, “He hasn’t asked you to marry him, has he?”
Judith said slowly, “No, not yet. He is very beautiful, don’t you think?”
Lady Arbuckle said matter-of-factly, “All consider the Sherbrooke twins to be the most handsome men in England. They will probably only grow more so as they get older, just as their Aunt Melissande has. She’s at least forty-five now, surely past any excuse for beauty, but it just isn’t so. Young men still swoon when she passes them on the street or see her across a room. The twins will be no different, for they are cast in her image, an odd thing, but there it is. Their parents have never been pleased about this miscarriage of heredity.”
“And one of these perfect young gentlemen will propose to me. That is quite remarkable, isn’t it?”
Lady Arbuckle started to turn away, then stopped, searched Judith’s face, and said, “I have heard that the younger son, the one who you believe will propose to you, is not as constant as his brother, Lord Hammersmith. I have seen it myself. Jason Sherbrooke sees a young lady who pleases him-as you have pleased him, Judith-and he devotes himself to her entirely, for a short while-and then he is gone. Will he actually propose marriage? I don’t know, but I must doubt it. I suggest you take great care, Judith. He is a wild young man, more honorable than most, perhaps, but I was told that he keeps a mistress on Mount Street.”
“I did not know that,” Judith said slowly. “I wonder what she looks like?”
“I daresay it isn’t appropriate for you to know that. I daresay that you shouldn’t even admit to knowing what a mistress is.” Lady Arbuckle paused a moment, studied her face. “However, I doubt she has your looks or your charm.”
“I hope that is true.”
“I wonder,” said Lady Arbuckle slowly. “I wonder what will happen. I wish to leave soon, Judith. That soprano from Rome made my eardrums ache. I wish to write my husband, to see if he is well.”
“I am sure he is just fine. I’m ready, Aunt. Jason said that he was going to meet friends. I wonder if instead he was going to Mount Street to visit his mistress?”
“I would guess the mistress.”
“Do you think he wanted me so much he had to go to her?”
Lady Arbuckle laughed. “I don’t think a man ever needs stimulation in order to visit a mistress.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
JAMES FELL ONTO his back, mouth open, trying to suck breath back into his body. Beside him lay his new wife, who, if he was not mistaken, was smiling like a fool even as she yawned.
When he could finally speak again, he said, catching up her hand in his, “The backs of your knees excited me infinitely.”
“Ha!”
He grinned up at the ceiling. “Very well, you wish me to be truthful here.” He turned on his side and looked down at her. Her hair was tangled and wild around her head, her face glowing, her body languid, so soft he wanted to begin kissing her ears and work his way down to her heels. “I’ll skip the prelude. To kiss your belly, that was rather fine, Corrie.”
She moistened her mouth with her tongue. She was embarrassed at his frank speaking, he saw it, and was charmed. “And kissing you and caressing you with my mouth, between those lovely long legs of yours-”
She came up against him and bit his shoulder. “You will not embarrass me, James Sherbrooke, do you hear me? You won’t speak anymore of kissing my belly or touching me all over and kissing me all over until I nearly shook myself out of my skin.”
He laughed, pulled her tight against him. “I pleased you.”
She bit his shoulder again, then licked it. The taste of him excited her, made her feel soft and compliant, and perhaps that wasn’t all that good a thing, but for the moment, pressed naked against him, she would accept it. She whispered against his warm flesh, “How do you know you pleased me, James? Perhaps I am still waiting to be pleased, still anxious and afraid that there is really nothing pleasant at all with this sex business.”
He nibbled on her ear, got a mouthful of her hair, and, without saying a word, moved his hand down her back until he was spreading his fingers across her hips. She waited, wanting, wanting, but too embarrassed to ask him to-then those magic fingers of his curved inward, and when they touched her, eased inside her, she sucked in her breath, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him.
“Damn,” he said into her mouth, “it’s a good thing I am a young man. You nearly killed me, and now you want me to pleasure you again, five minutes later.”
“Five minutes? That long?” He looked into her eyes as his fingers found her. When her eyes went wild and his fingers sent her into her orgasm, he took those lovely cries into his mouth.
He came into her, hard and deep, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head. She was nearly squeezing the breath out of him she was clutching his back so tightly, and when she whispered against his neck, “James, I would kill for you,” he was gone. He wondered in those incredible moments, if he would ever slow down with her. Or she with him.
He doubted it, he thought later, doubted the feelings he had for her that made him instantly hard, the feelings that were growing almost faster than he could accept, and wasn’t that a fine thing? It was James who pulled the covers over them.
He fell asleep, her soft mouth whispering kisses all over his face. Had he known what she was thinking, sleep would have been the last thing on his mind.
NORTHCLIFFE HALL
Douglas Sherbrooke looked meditatively at the thin slices of ham on his luncheon plate, so thin he could see his fork through them. “I wonder what our eldest son is doing at this moment.”
Alexandra pretended confusion, which made him laugh. “You mean right now? When he and Corrie should be consuming food in the inn parlor since it is time for luncheon? He is your son, Douglas; both of us know exactly what is going on at this exact moment.”
“Perhaps he is sleeping. A man must restock himself.”
She cleared her throat. “He is only twenty-five. I doubt much restocking is necessary. Whatever he is doing, there is no food involved.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m his mother; it’s difficult, but I suppose I must accept it.”
Her husband grinned at her. “You believe our Jason is still a virgin?”
He felt peas hit his face. He began to pick them up and put them on his plate.
She said, resting her chin on her clasped hands, “I happened to catch Jason after his first encounter with a
