Pride and Pleasure (10 page)

“Is something wrong?” she asked, having been concerned from the moment his summons arrived.

“Come inside.”

Glancing behind her, she saw that the young man who’d accompanied her had departed. There had been others with him, but they hadn’t entered the gardens with her. Jasper’s note advised her to ask his man to accompany her back,
if
she chose to visit him as he requested. Once she relayed her acquiescence, everything was arranged with amazing swiftness. She’d been squired from Melville’s house through the delivery alley and seen into a hired hackney. The winding and repetitive route they’d taken ensured she wasn’t followed.

Jasper led her inside and took her to a study. Her senses were engaged by the feel of the room the moment she entered it. The mixture of blue hues and mahogany wood was surprising; although she couldn’t say what else she might have chosen for him. Large wingback chairs and overly stuffed settees spoke of comfort as well as functionality. She knew instantly that he spent a great deal of time in this room, which made her want to explore every corner of it.

He came up behind her and set his hands on her shoulders. She stiffened, not with fear or apprehension, but expectantly. She heard him inhale slowly and deeply, as if savoring her scent. The action suited him. He was a man firmly attuned to his baser nature, reliant on his senses and instincts as all predatory and dominant creatures were. She was attracted to that side of him, deriving a potent thrill from being capable of stirring it.

“May I?” he asked, referring to her cloak.

Eliza nodded.

Her hood was lifted and pulled back, exposing her face to light from all around. He paused, his frame emanating an unmistakable tension. The act of removing her cloak suddenly became far more revealing. She understood then that he hadn’t summoned her to discuss urgent business or anything else. The divestment of her exterior garments was the first step in the removal of all her clothing.

Her breath caught audibly and a fine tremor rippled through her.

Jasper’s chin came to rest atop the crown of her head. His hands gripped her upper arms in a gentle yet unshakeable hold. “Will you stay?” he asked gruffly.

She hesitated only a moment. “Yes.”

E
liza felt Jasper relax. She did not. How could she, having just agreed to give herself to a man she barely knew? For the first time in her life, she had ignored all reason and acted purely on feeling.

She pushed the thought aside. She’d made her decision and she would not regret it. “What would you have done if I said no?”

“Changed your mind.” His fingers deftly released the frog at her throat. Her cloak began to slip and he caught it with a flourish.

Turning to face him, she watched as he draped the black velvet garment over the back of one of the pale blue settees. “I’m agreeing to something I have no knowledge of,” she pointed out. “Perhaps I will change my own mind.”

Jasper stepped closer and cupped her face in his hands. “If so, I will desist. But I fully intend for you to beg me not to stop.”

The physical response she had to his words was so violent it took her by surprise. He took advantage, his mouth sealing over hers and taking it, his tongue thrusting fast and deep. Eliza caught his wrists to keep her balance, her body otherwise frozen by the onslaught. A whimper escaped her and was swallowed by his answering groan.

He released her as quickly as he’d caught her, stepping back and leaving her to stumble from the loss of his support. His chest lifted and fell rapidly. His gaze was heavy-lidded and hot.

“This is my study,” he said in a hoarse voice. “When I’m home, this is the most likely place to find me.”

Stunned by the sudden change in conversation and the distance between them, Eliza took a moment to register what he’d said. “It suits you,” she managed.

“Come along.” Jasper held his hand out to her.

He pulled her gently from the room and back out to the visitor’s foyer. There was a longcase clock against the wall, a large console with a lone silver salver atop it, and a rack for Jasper’s cane. It was a purely functional space, lacking any adornments.

“The parlor is here,” he said, steering her across a round Aubusson rug covering the marble floor.

From the threshold, she saw a fire in the grate and playing cards scattered across two separate tables. It looked as if a gathering had recently been there and would be returning shortly. The room was decorated in shades of yellow and cream. There was a large quantity of furniture, all of which was oversized and sturdily built. Still, the space felt sterile and uncluttered.

“At any given hour,” he said, “many of my employees can be found in here. The downstairs is often noisy, filled with bawdy conversations and raucous laughter. This is the first time this room has been empty in many years.”

“Oh . . .” Eliza understood that he’d sent the men away because of her. “When will they be back?”

“Not for many hours.”

Her palms grew damp, a reaction he couldn’t fail to note with her hand in his. “Were you so certain of my capitulation?”

“Far from it, but I couldn’t proceed as if failure was inevitable.” He tugged her from the room. “There is also a dining room and ballroom on this floor, but I use neither, so they’re unfurnished.”

They moved toward the staircase and started to climb. With every step they took, her excitement mounted. Her breathing quickened and her face felt hot. There was an unmistakable finality to their upward progression, as if her fate had been set and she couldn’t turn back now. Far from feeling trapped, she felt liberated. All afternoon, she’d thought of Melville and Regina and Montague. She had weighed their admonishments and advice. And she’d felt the mounting pressure to conform, to cede to the expected behavior and cast aside any lingering hope for independence.

“The third floor,” he said, “has three bedrooms and a nursery, which has been converted into a room for guests. Sometimes my men stay here, for various reasons. No one is here now. If you would like to see the rooms, I’ll show them to you.”

If he was trying to give her time to change her mind, it wasn’t working. She was growing more agitated by the moment. Impatient. Restless. “Why?”

Jasper glanced at her. “Does anything about my home strike you in an unusual way?”

“It’s lovely,” she said. “Beautifully furnished. However, it is also oddly barren. Nothing adorns the walls or table surfaces. You’ve hung no portraits of loved ones or pleasing landscapes. I had hoped to learn more about you by visiting, but I’ve seen very little that tells a story.”

“One has to
want
things in order to purchase them. There’s nothing I want. There has been nothing I’ve seen in a shop window or in someone else’s home that I have coveted.” He paused with one foot on the next step. “I think you might understand that lack of wanting. You attire yourself for purpose, not for vanity. You did not refurnish Melville’s study when you commandeered it. You replaced what needed to be replaced and made do with the rest.”

“Many people find that art and sentimental objects provide comfort and enjoyment. I, too, own a few items that are impractical but give me pleasure.”

“Am I such to you?” he asked, his dark eyes shadowed with some emotion she couldn’t name. “An impractical pleasure?”

“Yes.”

He started forward again. They reached the second floor landing and Eliza looked down the lone hallway, searching for and finding a lack of wall adornment. Aside from sconces to light the way, there was nothing to relieve the long expanse of soft green damask covering the walls.

His pace slowed from brisk to a near stroll. “I have only ever wanted intangible things—health and happiness for my mother, justice for wrongdoings, satisfaction in a job well done—things of that nature. I have never understood why others become focused on particular objects. I’ve never comprehended obsession or overwhelming need.”

He spoke without inflection. There was nothing in what he said that betrayed any emotion, yet she felt a deeper undercurrent to his words.

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked softly, clutching his hand with both of her own.

“I’m the only one who uses this floor.” He started forward. “Aside from my own rooms, the rest are vacant.”

His repeated evasion of her questions was growing tiresome. She could not understand his mood. With her own emotions a confusing jumble, she didn’t have the wherewithal to translate his feelings, too.

They reached a set of open double doors. Jasper gestured her in ahead of him.

Taking a deep breath, Eliza crossed the threshold. Like her room in Melville’s house, Jasper’s sitting room was predominantly burgundy in tone with occasional splashes of cream to alleviate the dark hue. But unlike her space, his was thoroughly masculine. There were no tassels or patterns to any of the materials, and no carvings in the wooden arms and legs of the chairs and tables.

The air smelled of him. She breathed the scent into her nostrils, finding it calming to her jangled nerves. Then, she looked at the open doorway to her left, the portal to Jasper’s bedchamber, and her stomach knotted all over again.

“There are games women play,” he murmured, his gaze hot enough to heat her skin. “Tests they devise to gauge a man’s interest.”

“What sorts of tests?”

“They make certain a man learns of their favorite flower or color or important dates, then wait to see if he will remember and gift them accordingly.”

Her hands linked together nervously. Should she sit? Or remain standing as he did? She escaped into the conversation, not knowing what else to do. “The objects of feminine and masculine sentimentality are often widely different. To expect a man to assume what might be an unnatural form of sentiment to prove devotion is an unreasonable experiment with a high probability of failure. Why not accept his instinctual gestures of affection in whatever manner they are manifested? They likely mean more to him and reveal more about his character.”

Jasper’s smile curled her toes. “Do you have any notion of how sexually arousing I find your intellect? One day I should like you to expound upon this topic while I’m inside you. I suspect I would find it highly erotic.”

A flush swept over her face.

He shut the door to the hallway and locked it. The soft click of the latch rippled through her.

“I tested you today,” he said, with his back to her. “Considering how irritating I find such ploys, it astonishes me that I did so.”

“Did I pass?”

Facing her, he shrugged out of his coat. “You are in my home, so I would say so.”

He swiftly unfastened the buttons of his waistcoat. Eliza found she could not look away, despite the voice in her head that lectured about privacy and proper maidenly modesty.

She cleared her throat so she could speak. “You sent for me without telling me why.”

“If Montague had sent for you, would you have gone?”

“Of course not. He does not work for me.”

Jasper stiffened. When he returned to the act of shaking off his waistcoat, it was with notable impatience. “If Reynolds had sent for you, would you have gone?”

“No.”

“But he works for you.”

Clearly the expected responses were not the ones he wanted to hear. He wanted the truth.

“I would not have expended the effort for anyone else,” she admitted, her mouth drying as he untied and unwound his cravat, baring his throat. The sight was intensely provocative to her. His skin was darker than her own, firmer. She wanted desperately to touch it, to feel him swallow beneath her fingertips.

He toed off his buckled shoes. “That was the test. I needed to know if you would place me in a different category from other men you know. I was also curious to see how deep your adventuresome proclivities were buried.”

“I am far from adventuresome,” she protested.

“You would like to believe that.” Jasper tossed his cravat on the floor, then yanked his shirtsleeves over his head.

Eliza’s knees weakened and she staggered over to the nearest chair, half-sinking and half-falling into it.

Dear God, he was beautiful. Astonishingly, breathtakingly so. She remembered how he’d urged her to touch him the first time he kissed her. He had been so hard beneath her questing fingers, like stone. She could see why. Her hand lifted to her throat. As dry as her mouth had been, it was now flooded with moisture.

She had never seen a rendering of a male body that could compare. The washboard-like cording of muscles across his abdomen and the light dusting of dark hair that thinned into a fine line were new to her. And delightful. Her gaze followed the trail to where it disappeared beneath the placket of his breeches.

Then lower . . .

He was hard there, too. Cupped by the expertly tailored doeskin, the outline of his erection was thick and prominent. The knot in her stomach tightened. He was such a blatantly masculine creature. Primitive in the most vital of ways. A male whose appetites were undoubtedly fierce and expansive. How could she, a woman who knew nothing about exploiting her own femininity, sate such a man?

When he didn’t move, she jerked her gaze upward to find him staring back at her. A tight smile preceded him taking a seat on the opposite settee. He had allowed her to look her fill, she realized. Unashamed of the visible proof of his lust. Unabashed.

Jasper rolled down his hose, one leg at a time. “I
need
you to be adventuresome, Eliza. You wouldn’t tolerate me and my profession for long if you were not.”

“I do more than tolerate you,” she rejoined softly, having lost the strength to speak louder.

He stood, and her eyes stung. She was enamored with the sight of him. Smitten as she’d thought she could never be. There was nothing she would alter about him, nothing she found fault with. In that moment, she was certain she would pay any price for the pleasure of looking upon him indefinitely. The sensations moving through her were drugging and addictive. She wondered helplessly if there was any way she could feel like this every day.

Approaching her with hand outstretched, he said, “From the moment I first saw you, I desired you and knew I had to have you. Since then, I have come to realize it isn’t mere craving that drives me. It is wanting, Eliza. I
want
you. I’ve never wanted anything in my life, until you. Nothing. Do you understand what I’m saying? Gaining and losing a possession means nothing to me. There is always a replacement.”

“I understand.” She allowed him to pull her to her feet. “But I don’t know what conclusion to draw from that understanding.”

He gestured for her to face away from him. “I ceased trying to find reason in it. I cannot waste any more time trying to puzzle out what I don’t know. I must act on what I do know—you are the one thing in the world I want, and I can have you. I’m also lacking the scruples that would prevent me from doing whatever is necessary to keep you. The details can be dealt with later, when I can once again think about something other than bedding you.”

His fingers went to the buttons that secured the back of her gown and released them with laudable dexterity.

“Have I no say in the matter?” she asked.

He pressed his lips to the top of her bared shoulder. “If you intend to say you have no objections, speak away. Otherwise, I ask that you give me the next few hours before voicing anything that might make my task more difficult for me.”

Eliza looked straight ahead, which was a straight-line view into Jasper’s bedroom. The bed was directly in front of her, custom-made from the size of it. The back of her gown gaped open and he pushed it free of her shoulders, then down to the floor. “Step out,” he ordered.

She obeyed, too overwhelmed to do otherwise. “You are giving me too much time to think,” she groused, averting her gaze from the bed.

Jasper laughed softly, the moment of levity sufficient to lighten some of the incertitude preying on her. “Would you prefer to be ravished?”