Claire came back to earth, and Jacob pulled his hand away from her. Her body spent, she leaned her forehead against his shoulder, trying to regain her senses.
“You are mine, Claire.” Jacob’s voice was hoarse.
“Yes.”
“We will return to the assembly,” he said, kissing her hair. “You will dance with me. And when we return to Aldgate Hall, I will come to your room tonight.”
Claire did not hesitate. “Yes.”
J
acob pressed his ear to the wall separating his room from Claire’s. He couldn’t hear a thing. Upon returning to Aldgate Hall, they had each retired to their respective chambers to prepare themselves. Hell, he hadn’t needed preparation at all, but felt she may need a few more moments to settle what was going to happen in her mind.
And it made up for his earlier lack of finesse.
I will come to your room tonight?
He couldn’t remember ever being so awkward. Ladies—women—enjoyed sweet words and being wooed. But seeing Claire share even one dance with another man had Jacob losing his senses and control.
I will come to your room tonight
indeed.
With a sigh, Jacob pushed himself away from the wall. He didn’t know how long she would need to prepare herself, but he couldn’t wait any longer. And if she wasn’t ready, didn’t want to go through with this tonight, then he would play the gentleman and acquiesce to her wishes.
Wearing only his shirt and trousers, he moved to her door and knocked. She didn’t leave him waiting even a moment, but opened the door. Her hair was tied back in a braid that Jacob’s fingered itched to release; his hands tingled with the memory of its softness from earlier in the evening. She was dressed in her night rail, a long cotton garment that covered her from her neck to the top of her feet, material so thick and practical that the glow of the candles behind her did not penetrate it. She was beautiful.
As he promised himself, he played the gentleman. “You don’t—that is, we don’t have to—if you don’t want to or have doubts—”
She interrupted him. “Jacob. Come in.” She reached out and took his hand, welcoming him into her room.
The door closed behind him with a small squeak. He made sure to twist the lock in place; he hadn’t forgotten that much at least. Coherent thought fled as he looked at her, standing so demure, so willing, so glorious. His blood thudded heavily through his veins; he had trouble deciding what to do first.
“I have done this before,” he blurted out.
A shy, awkward half smile appeared on her face. “I have not.”
Dammit, what was wrong with him? “I meant to say that I usually have more finesse. But you—I can’t seem to think around you.”
“Oh.” She contemplated his statement before continuing. “Lucy said that some people leave their garments on while others do not. Which one do you prefer?”
Was she serious? If he wasn’t so far gone with arousal, he would find the situation humorous. Him, being helped by a virgin. Perhaps later he would chuckle about it.
“I want you to know that my intentions are honorable, Claire. You are not a dalliance to me.”
Her eyes softened. “Thank you.”
Sweet Jesus, he could get used to that look in her eyes. Full of trust and openness and affection, all directed at him. He could not recall a time that anyone had looked at him in such a manner. It was humbling and arousing. Frightening even, to be the recipient of such faith.
“Claire.” He moved toward her and cupped her cheeks.
She smiled tremulously, her nerves showing. A shaky giggle escaped her. “Our conversation in these situations leaves much to be desired.”
“It is not your conversation I desire at this moment,” he replied. He lowered his head and kissed her.
She didn’t know where all her hesitation had gone, but since her conversation with Lucy earlier, she felt like a different woman. Her decision to leave her past behind had lifted something from her, a heavy cloak or a chain; she felt free, especially with Jacob.
She welcomed his kiss. She opened her mouth eagerly to his seeking tongue and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his. She reveled in the feeling of her breasts brushing against his hard chest. She felt the same bulge that had been present in the church garden pushing into her stomach.
He tugged at the ties holding her night rail closed at her neck. “Off,” he said against her mouth.
“What?” Her senses had quickly scattered.
“I prefer your garments off.”
“Oh.” Claire stepped back.
He had never actually seen a woman transform into a seductress before. Where had his proper Claire gone? In her stead was a woman who looked at him from beneath her lashes with knowing eyes while slowly undoing the ribbon at her neck. When it was undone, her night rail gapped so broadly that all it took was a shrug and roll of her shoulders to have it whisper to the floor, slithering down her body.
His mouth went dry at the sight of a nude Claire standing before him. His eyes instinctively settled on the light curls covering her mound; he licked his lips in anticipation.
“Jacob?” Her voice betrayed some of her trepidation.
Raising his eyes back to hers, he quickly shucked his own clothing, feeling the eagerness of an adolescent.
Her eyes widened. A naked Jacob overwhelmed her senses, making him seem too big for the small room. Statues and pictures in forbidden books from her father’s collection had not prepared her for such an experience. And he was all hers; no other woman was to see him thus.
She looked into his eyes. “You are mine, Jacob.”
“You are mine, Claire,” he echoed. He closed the gap between them and lifted her braid off her back. “May I?” he asked. At her nod, he untwisted the tie holding it together and ran his fingers through her hair, loosening the silken strands to spread along her back. “Beautiful,” he breathed, the delicate tendrils twining themselves around his fingers.
She slid her arms around his waist and lifted her head to receive his kiss. His hands spread over her back, their weight warm and heavy against her bare skin, sending thrills coursing through her nerves. She felt a reverence in his touch that made her knees weak.
As if sensing her need, he guided her to lie down on her bed, the old frame groaning under their combined weight. It was only meant to hold one person, but neither of them was complaining about the close quarters.
His attentions moved down her body. She arched into his hands, his mouth, her begging silent. He didn’t disappoint. His hands worked magic on her skin, her breasts, teasing her senses into pleasurable oblivion.
She could not remain passive. Her fingers itched to know him and caressed his skin in much the same manner. Their moans and gasps created a symphony of pleasure in her tiny room.
When he moved his hand to cup her, he knew he could not last much longer. Her warm wetness beckoned to him and the urge to mount her grew to extreme necessity. He would not be able to do everything to her he desired this time, but there would be ample opportunity in the future. He was sure of it.
Preparing her with his fingers, he moved into the cradle of her thighs and kissed her deeply. “Claire,” he groaned.
“Jacob,” was her answering gasp as she felt the tip of his hardness at her entrance.
“I’m sorry,” he said and pushed deeply into her.
A small cry tore from her throat and he stilled. Her body tensed around his, an instinctive reaction to the pain. He could feel her inner muscles throb and clench around him and he had to grit his teeth against the urge to move. He would wait until she was ready for him, even if it killed him.
“Claire?”
“Jacob.” A whimper remained in her voice.
“I am sorry, my lady.” He kissed her eyes, tasting the saltiness of unshed tears.
“It is not your doing,” she managed. “It happens to every woman.”
He chuckled at the revelation he held in his arms. Even at a moment of such personal discomfort, she sought to ease his own suffering. He kissed her deeply, coaxing a response out of her.
When he felt her begin to relax, he yielded a small amount to instinct and rocked against her. Her gasp fluttered over his lips and her body tensed again, but this time he could tell it was not quite from pain. He repeated the movement. This time her hips arched off the bed to meet his, and he knew the moments of discomfort had passed.
He did not surrender himself entirely to his instinct; such selfishness would only cause her more pain, and he refused to make her first experience one she looked back upon with displeasure.
It wasn’t long before small squeaks of pleasure bubbled up from her throat; he instinctively recognized them as the hallmark of her impending release. Scant moments later, she arched her body and her head fell back, her mouth open in a silent cry.
Her muscles contracted around his manhood, and he allowed himself to slip into his own release after a few more thrusts. “Claire,” he groaned as he spilled into her. He laid his head on her shoulder, inhaling deeply against her neck.
“Jacob,” she whispered, hugging him to her.
Silence enveloped them, blanketing the couple with satisfied intimacy.
Life is good
, was his thought as he drifted off to sleep in her embrace.
“W
hy do you call me ‘my lady’?” Thanks to the close quarters of her bed, Jacob was currently spooned behind her. Sometime earlier he had rolled off of her and adjusted himself into the position, pulling her coverlet over them to fend off the crispiness of the night. His solid form behind her both comforted and warmed her, the lazy kisses he was dropping on her shoulder sending quivers along her skin. A lone tallow candle remained flickering on the stand that held her washbasin.
“You have as much grace and poise as any lady I have ever met, so why wouldn’t I call you that?” His voice reflected the same satiation as she felt coursing through her veins. “Besides, I like the thought of you being ‘my lady’.”
Claire smiled at the thought and teased, “You have met so many ladies in your life that you can make an accurate comparison?”
His body tensed behind her. It was infinitesimal, but they were so close she noticed it. “I have met my share,” he finally said.
Claire turned to face him, tangling her legs around his and placing a hand on his chest.. Tufts of dark hair spotted Jacob’s torso and she ran her fingers through them. She smiled at his inhalation when her fingers brushed over his nipples. “Should I be calling you ‘my lord’ then?”
Jacob grabbed her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing her palm. “No. To you I am and always will be Jacob. Never ‘my lord’.”
Her brow furrowed at his fierce and adamant tone. Why wouldn’t he let her play the game as well? She brushed off her misgivings for a more serious matter. “But not in public, Jacob. We must be discreet; our positions demand it.”
Jacob laid her hand back on his chest. “I said earlier that my intentions were honorable, Claire. This is not a dalliance to me. I wish to marry you.” He was surprised at the sincerity that rang in his voice and was struck by the truth of his words. He did want to marry her for pure reasons, not merely manipulate her into it.
He wanted to marry her because he loved her. Never had anything felt so right as the thought of loving her, marrying her. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife, Claire Bannister?”
Claire stared at her hand on his chest covered by his hand. Her silence unnerved him. Did she not reciprocate his feelings? Was everything he saw in her eyes and experienced in her bed a lie? At the thought, Jacob felt a gaping hole open where his stomach used to be.
Claire bit her lip and looked to his eyes. “What about the Governess Club? My friends are depending on me.”
Jacob forced himself to keep his tone level. “Surely they will not begrudge you your happiness.”
“Will I be happy with you?”
“I will do my utmost to ensure you are never unhappy, my lady.” He raised her hand to his lips again. “I love you, Claire.” The words flowed easily. He had always assumed that if he ever did fall in love, saying the phrase would be awkward and arduous, as in the novels women read. But no, saying them felt right and natural, like pulling on a pair of well-worn, comfortable boots. Loving Claire just . . . fit.
She smiled broadly at him. “I love you as well, Jacob. And yes, I will marry you. I will make you the happiest man alive.”
Jacob let out a crow that had Claire quickly covering his mouth. “Shh,” she admonished. “We cannot have the household coming in here.”
“But we are betrothed, my lady,” he said, unable to stop grinning. “Let them find us. Let the entire country come into this room right now. I don’t care.”
“Silly man.” Her smile died somewhat. “Jacob, do you think we could keep this between us for a few days yet? I wish to tell my friends myself before they hear any gossip about it. I do not know how they will react to my upsetting their plans.”
“If it means that much to you,” Jacob said, “then yes. I can wait a while before we post the banns.” And he needed to contact his family regarding the news. Should he do that before or after they married? After would be most prudent, he thought. His mother would want to make it into a big event; his father would likely try to run Claire off. The duke would not consider a governess to be a suitable bride for his spare heir.
How will she react to learning that she was to be a daughter-by-marriage to a duke? They hadn’t spoken much regarding her opinion of the aristocracy, but he knew how much she valued honesty. Surely if she loved him, she would not mind. She would understand his reasons and forgive the deception.
But he did not wish to think about that right now. Jacob moved his head until there was only a whisper between their lips. “Now if you don’t mind, I would like to focus on loving my bride.”
“I thought you would never do so,” was the last thing Claire said for quite some time.
“C
hildren, I have some good news.” Claire had entered the nursery after speaking with Mrs. Morrison. The children gladly left their lessons and clambered around her. “Your parents have written. They are arriving in a few days to host a house party.”