Chapter 20

The rain had ceased, but the path from Milthorpe Manor to the folly was still sodden. Eleanor wore one of her own dresses and tucked the skirts up around her waist. She pulled her petticoats up a few inches, too. Hang propriety; no one was around to see, and she didn’t want to have to explain to either her sisters or the laundry maid how her petticoats had come to be ringed in mud.

The clouds shifting in front of the full moon gave the night an ominous feel. Eleanor wrapped her plain grey woolen cloak more tightly about her shoulders and wondered for the thousandth time if this was a good idea. She honestly didn’t know what Jasper had planned for tonight. He’d said they were going to “have this out,” and that he was “not finished” with her. But what did that mean? She had assumed at the time that he wanted to continue the romantic portion of their interlude, as he had not found his own satisfaction.

But it struck her as the wind tugged at her cloak that the eerie setting—a ruined abbey at midnight!—felt more apropos for a dastardly deed than a romantic rendezvous. Eleanor didn’t think the duke was going to strangle her.

But with the way he vacillated between kissing her and informing her that he despised her, how could one be entirely sure?

The folly came into view. Suddenly, a great, hulking beast came charging out of the woods. She froze, clutching her cloak, heart flying. Was it a wolf? There weren’t any wolves in England. She knew that, but it looked as big as a bear, and—

The beast gave a friendly woof and padded up to sniff her hand.

“Benedick!” she gasped. “You gave me quite the fright.”

An even larger shape emerged from the shadows, but this one bore a lantern. Eleanor swallowed. She couldn’t make out much of the duke’s expression in the darkness, but this was it, the moment she would learn Jasper’s intentions. Silently, she accepted his proffered hand and allowed him to lead her into the folly.

She staggered to a halt as she came around the corner. A thick woolen blanket had been spread out in the center of the interior. Two more lanterns illuminated the space, washing it in flickering light. Jasper had also brought a bottle of wine and two glasses, a basket she assumed contained food, a handful of cushions, and another blanket.

It certainly looked more like the scene of a seduction than that of a murder.

You would think this would come as a relief, but this realization sent Eleanor’s heart racing faster than ever.

Beatrice approached, and Jasper whistled to his dogs. “Go stand guard.” The mastiffs trotted off, happy to obey.

Eleanor sat gingerly on the edge of the blanket and started to untie her muddy boots. Now that she was all but certain Jasper’s intentions were romantic, she had a decision to make. Having never had a suitor before, she’d never had to seriously consider what liberties she might permit a man to take.

She knew with complete certainty that whatever she and Jasper did here tonight, it would not lead to marriage. He had made his disdain for the Weatherby Wallflowers inescapably clear, and even if he hadn’t, she was a thousand miles beneath him in station. The notion that a duke would marry the penniless daughter of an unsuccessful naturalist was risible.

And yet… Eleanor found she did not have to think too hard about whether she wanted to have one night of passion with Jasper St. James. She was never going to marry. No man had ever expressed the slightest interest in her.

This would be her one and only chance to find out what the fuss was all about, and she would get to do it with the most attractive man she’d ever met. It might be a sin, but Eleanor wanted to experience everything Jasper could show her.

Slipping her feet from her half boots, she turned on the blanket to face him. Jasper had removed his boots as well. He looked terribly handsome in the flickering lamplight.

“Would you like some wine?” he asked, gesturing to the bottle.

“Not really,” Eleanor answered before she could think better of it, then stiffened. Why had she said that? It would have been more natural to accept, even if she was so lightheaded that the last thing she needed was a glass of wine.

But Jasper didn’t seem put off. “Good.” He surprised her by grabbing her by the arms and hauling her over to him. “I didn’t come here for the wine, either.”

Then he was kissing her, which had the positive effect of silencing all the nervous thoughts fluttering about her head. It wasn’t possible to think about anything when Jasper St. James had his lips on hers, save for things like gad and lud and oh my stars and occasionally even zonkers.

Eleanor was so busy not thinking, in fact, that it took her by surprise when Jasper swept her into his lap. She was pressed against his warm, firm chest, and his solid arms went around her, encompassing her entirely. It felt so good to be held by him, to feel cherished for the first time in her life.

She also found that she couldn’t stop touching him. The broad planes of his chest and stomach were ridged with muscles she could feel even through his clothing, muscles that flexed and rippled beneath her fingers. Once again, she felt the firm bulge that had sprung up beneath the falls of his trousers. It probably should have alarmed her, but Eleanor felt nothing but excitement at this proof that, through some miracle, this magnificent specimen of the male species desired her as well. Her curious fingers danced low across his stomach, but she wasn’t daring enough to touch him there.

Suddenly, Jasper broke off their kiss, drawing back. At first, she thought she had displeased him, but he growled, “God, Eleanor,” and ripped his coat off with a tremulous sort of desperation. His waistcoat and cravat followed in short order.

Eleanor liked him like this, in nothing but a shirt gaping open at the neck. He looked even more virile, if that was even possible. She could see dark hair curling beneath the thin linen, could even make out the outline of his flat nipples…

A cold rush of air alerted her to the fact that he had opened the ties on her dress. She gasped in surprise, and he paused, giving her a questioning look.

“It’s all right,” she said between panting breaths. “I was merely startled. But I do want you to… to…”

She couldn’t bring herself to say it, but Jasper understood. Bringing one big hand up to frame her face, he kissed her, and once again, she forgot to be nervous.

He continued fumbling with the fastenings of her clothing. Eleanor had on the practical pair of front-lacing stays she wore every day, which allowed her to get in and out of her dresses by herself. She could feel Jasper picking at the ties as his tongue traced delicious shapes across her lips. Meanwhile, the fact that he wore nothing from the waist up but a thin linen shirt afforded her even better access to his magnificently sculpted chest. The opportunity was so tempting that even Eleanor’s innate shyness was quickly overcome by her longing to touch him.

Another rush of cold air marked the moment her stays gave way. Jasper broke off their kiss, pulling back to look at her. Eleanor knew her cheeks were aflame, but she assisted him in pulling her arms free of her sleeves.

She knew her figure was not fashionably delicate. But Jasper did not seem to mind. “My God, Eleanor,” he murmured, filling his hands with her breasts. His palms rasped against her nipples, sending sparks shooting through her veins and scrambling her thoughts. The situation did not improve as he kneaded and massaged her, flicking his thumbs over her nipples, and she whimpered with the pleasure of it.

Abruptly, the pleasurable sensations ceased. “I must see you,” Jasper said, pushing the mass of her skirts, petticoats, and shift down over her hips.

Eleanor panicked, because Jasper was about to see all of her. It hadn’t been so bad, having his focus on her breasts. Most men liked full breasts.

But what man liked wide hips and sturdy thighs?

Apparently, the answer was Jasper St. James, because he groaned as the rest of her came into view. “Eleanor,” he said reverently, caressing the curve of her waist down to the flare of her bottom. “My God, you’re perfect.”

“P-perfect?” she squeaked. She gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “I don’t know about that. Stout, I will grant you.”

“Quit disparaging yourself,” Jasper growled, framing her hips. “If there’s one thing you should have noticed about me by now, it’s that I don’t mince words. And when I say you’re exactly what I like, I mean it.”

Eleanor could scarcely countenance it, but she could see by his face that he was sincere. She had somehow stumbled upon the only man in England who liked her stocky figure!

She didn’t have too much time to contemplate her good fortune, because Jasper yanked his shirt up over his head and tossed it aside. She had a brief glimpse of dark hair and brawny muscles before he hauled her naked body up against him.

Every semblance of a coherent thought fled. He was big and firm and warm, and his skin felt indescribably delicious against hers.

She could hear the masculine satisfaction in his voice as he rolled her onto her back. “Like that, do you?”

All she could manage was a whimper. And then the situation immediately became worse, because Jasper lay down on top of her, and his weight pinning her to the blanket combined with every inch of his big, beautiful body pressing against hers was incandescently pleasurable.

“Oh, Jasper!” she breathed, writhing beneath him. “That feels so good!”

He gave a triumphant humph in her ear. “I haven’t even begun to make you feel good.”

Then he was kissing her again and letting his hands roam freely over her naked body. Was it possible to die from an excess of pleasure? If so, Eleanor was in danger of expiring. His hands teased her nipples, stroking and pinching, and she couldn’t help but rock her hips against the delicious bulge at the front of his trousers.

“That’s it, Eleanor,” he breathed. “Take your pleasure on me.”

She proceeded to do just that, squirming and touching him everywhere, and rubbing herself against him where she needed it the most. When, after a few minutes, he slid down her body, she mewled in protest.

“Hush, minx,” he said, but she could hear the smile in his voice. “You’ll like this even better.”

He brought his hand to the juncture of her thighs, rubbing that little pearl he had shown her that afternoon with slick fingers, which did go a ways toward relieving her ache. And, even better, he brought his lips to her breasts. When he sucked a nipple into his mouth and gave a good, strong pull, Eleanor felt like there was a string inside her twisting, winding her tighter and tighter.

When she was trembling with need, Jasper abandoned her breasts, sliding lower until he rested on his elbows between her legs. Eleanor was so far gone, she didn’t mark his intentions until she felt the warmth of his breath between her thighs.

“Jasper!” she gasped. “What are you… Oh. Oh, my God!”

His tongue swirling over that little nub was surely the purest form of pleasure to exist in this world. Eleanor knotted her fingers in his hair in case he once again decided to show her “something else” she would like “even better.” Because there was nothing she would like better than this!

Fortunately, Jasper didn’t seem to harbor thoughts of escape. He kept flicking his tongue over that little bud until Eleanor’s thighs began to tremble, the pleasure building so high she felt as if she were about to burst. “Jasper!” she cried. “Oh, Jasper—I think I’m going to… I’m… Oh, Jasper!”

Her legs began quaking wildly as pleasure overwhelmed her. She could feel her core pulsing and squeezing as she lay shuddering on the blanket.

Just when the exquisite sensations became too much, Jasper lifted his head. He had the smuggest smile imaginable on his face.

“Ha,” he gloated, scooping her into his arms and cradling her head on his shoulder. “I’ll wager you don’t hate me anymore.”

Eleanor waved a hand. “Oh, I definitely still despise you. But please, don’t let that come as a discouragement. After you’ve done that another three dozen times or so, I’m bound to come around.”

His deep, rich chuckle rumbled beneath her ear. “I see your strategy.”

“Is it working?” she asked weakly.

She felt his lips brush her temple. “You don’t need tricks to get me in your bed, Eleanor.”

They lay in companionable silence for a few minutes. Once Eleanor’s head stopped spinning, she gathered her courage. “You’d probably like to, um…”

He lifted his head, arching a single eyebrow. “Yes?”

“I’m not unwilling.” Her cheeks were burning, but she squeezed her eyes shut and said in a rush, “I would like to experience what it’s like, and seeing as this is likely to be my only opportunity—”

Jasper snorted. “Your only opportunity?”

“Yes, and I would therefore like to avail myself of it. I would appreciate it if you would take any precautions you can to reduce the chances of conception. Otherwise, you may… er. Proceed.”

She rolled onto her back, letting her thighs fall open, and waited for him to climb on top of her.

After a moment, she opened her eyes a sliver and found him with his head propped up on one elbow, watching her with a bemused smile.

“What seems to be the problem?” she asked.

“I’m not going to take your maidenhead on the cold, hard ground, Eleanor.”

“Oh.” Her body sagged as tension she hadn’t realized was there left in a rush. “But what about your, um…” She gestured vaguely toward his groin.

The corner of his lip twitched. “If you are offering to do something about the extremely uncomfortable cockstand I’ve been suffering through for the past four days, I would gratefully accept.”

“That’s exactly what I’m—wait.” Eleanor frowned as his words sunk in. “Four days?”

“Mmm.” Holding her gaze the whole time, he rubbed himself through his trousers. “I’ve awoken like this every morning since the day we met, my thoughts full of you. I had to do something to relieve the ache. Shall I show you?”

“Yes.” Eleanor sat up. She probably sounded like the worst kind of hussy, but she didn’t care. She found the thought of watching Jasper St. James touch himself excruciatingly exciting.

He lay back, settling on one of the cushions he’d brought with him from the house, hands propped behind his head. “Undo the buttons of my falls,” he said, voice pitched low.

Eleanor fumbled with the buttons with hands that shook. She marked the way his breath hitched each time her fingers brushed the hardness beneath the fabric.

At last, she managed to undo enough buttons to spread his falls open. As soon as she did, his man-part jutted out. She couldn’t help but stare at it in wonderment. It was thicker than she would have thought and nestled in a bed of dark hair.

She didn’t get the chance to look long, because Jasper wrapped his hand around this fascinating appendage and began stroking himself, up and down and up and down. As soon as he started touching himself, his eyes took on a drowsy quality, as if he was lost in a haze of pleasure.

“Could I try that?” Eleanor asked, too excited by what she was witnessing to remember to be shy.

“God, yes. Here.” Jasper took her hand and wrapped it around his length, covering it with his own hand. “Touch me like this. God, your hands are soft. That feels incredible, Eleanor.”

Buoyed by these words, Eleanor kept stroking him after he withdrew his hand. She noticed a bead of moisture that had formed right at his tip but wasn’t sure if she should touch it. Jasper held no such compunctions. Covering her hand with his, he brought her hand up and swirled it around.

Eleanor was surprised by how slick it was. Jasper groaned as she smoothed it up and down his length.

Jasper let his head loll back, and Eleanor continued her ministrations, enjoying his moans and muttered curses.

After a few minutes, her curiosity got the better of her. “Should I use my mouth on you, the way you did on me?”

He looked up, startled. “Should you use your mouth?”

Eleanor flushed. “Is that not something that’s done?”

He looked gobsmacked, an unfamiliar expression for Jasper St. James. “No, I mean—it is.”

Eleanor peered at him, trying to figure out what the problem was. “Do you not enjoy it, then?”

He laughed, incredulous. “No, I definitely enjoy it.”

“Well, in that case.” She slid down between his legs, trying to figure out how best to proceed. He had licked her, and it had felt divine, so she decided to try that.

She swirled her tongue around the very tip of his member, as that was where he seemed to be the most sensitive. His entire body jerked in response, and he cursed.

Eleanor could tell it was the good kind of cursing, though. Tamping down a smile, she did it again, and then again.

“God, Eleanor!” he panted. “Do you want me to spill in your mouth?”

Lifting her head, she took up the rhythm with her hand. “Is that something you would like?”

His big body was shaking. “Like? Like? I would give up my dukedom to have you… to have you…”

He broke off with a groan as Eleanor closed her mouth around him again. After a minute of trembling and moaning, Jasper began barking out orders. “Keep stroking me with your hand. Hold me tighter… tighter… Yes, just like that. Now, suck me… Oh, God, Eleanor. That’s… That’s going to make me… Yes. Yes! Yes!”

He roared as a pulse of warm liquid filled her mouth. His seed, Eleanor realized. She wasn’t sure what to do, so she kept going as best she could, swallowing the milky liquid that filled her mouth.

After a minute his hands came to her head, easing her off. She felt his appendage softening beneath her hands.

He pulled her up and cradled her against him, wrapping his sturdy arms around her. The warmth of his body was a tantalizing contrast to the cool night air. He snagged the extra blanket he’d brought and draped it over both of them, and Eleanor could not remember the last time she had felt this content.