Chapter Sixteen

When all else fails, a lady should always follow her heart.

The carriage-style clock on the drawing room mantel softly chimed the eleven o’clock hour. Since Jackson hadn’t been of a mind to sleep after dinner, when Elsbeth retired, he chose not to go abovestairs and instead retreated once more into his thoughts.

What to do about Lydia?

Hell, that wasn’t even her name. Elsbeth had confided in him that she’d been given Lydia’s real name—Bess Campbell. She would always be Lydia to him, and what was more, his own daughter had given him a serious talk during dinner on how she should have held her tongue, on how she should never have repeated gossip before going directly to Lydia for clarification or explanation. Then she told him that he would essentially be a nodcock if he didn’t marry the woman and start enjoying life again in a second marriage.

Because he needed a wife and she desperately wanted another mother, for everything had been better when Lydia was in their midst during those few days at Thistle Cottage when it had felt they were a real family.

And she had belonged to someone again.

Since he’d not done his duty as a father to Elsbeth for far too long, he’d suffered an emotional break at the dinner table, for all of that had been a revelation. He hadn’t known his daughter was flailing while he’d been lost to his own grief and confusion, but there had been something adamantly and completely correct—Lydia had made everything better. They’d shared tears and talking after that, and at the end, by the time the figgy pudding made an appearance at the table, they had bonded even closer.

And he made Elsbeth a promise, that he would try his best to sort his future.

Now, here he sat, after telling the servants to seek their own beds, contemplating what the hell he should do if he could only gather his courage. He rubbed a hand over his face. An hour ago, he’d removed his jacket, waistcoat, and cravat. If a man was to think about things, he didn’t need to be confined. Then he’d taken to pacing for a bit as he went through every conceivable scenario, even the ones inundated with scandal. When he was done, he retreated into the memories made with Lydia since the day he’d met her on that muddy road.

And slowly, his courage built.

There was no doubt in his mind he had fallen hard for the headmistress and that he was quite possibly addicted to her. Yet she wasn’t who he had thought, wasn’t the daughter of an earl, didn’t carry the title of lady, wasn’t even part of the ton .

Did it matter?

As he stared at the clock face while the second hand relentlessly kept its time, and then with a nod, he scrambled to his feet. Nothing mattered except convincing her they belonged together, that she was good enough to be his countess.

My wife.

It was time to stop delaying. If he wanted a future with her, he needed to talk things out with her instead of relying on speculation and wondering.

A few minutes later saw him upstairs and hesitating at the closed door to her bedchamber. After a soft knock, he entered the room and let his eyes adjust to the darkness. “Lydia?” Not receiving an answer, he crept quietly over the floor, his boots making almost no sound as he reached the carpet. “Lydia?” It appeared she’d fallen asleep in a winged-back chair, but damn she was beautiful in that rich emerald gown with her black hair upswept and secured with pins. The dark arcs of her lashes against her pale cheeks were like brush strokes on an artist’s canvas, the ruby lips were a much-needed splash of color. “Lydia.” When he touched a hand to hers, she awoke with a start. “Easy.”

“Jackson?” A blush stained her cheeks, nearly difficult to discern in the darkness, for the candle at the table near her chair had burned out long ago. “Er, I mean Your Lordship.”

“Stop.” This situation had grown wildly out of hand. “Come with me.” He held out a hand. “We need to talk.”

“We do not.” She shook her head, determined to be stubborn to the last. “I shall make arrangements to leave on the morrow.”

“Doubtful. It will be Boxing Day. No one will be about.”

A huff escaped her. “Then I will do so on the next for the same reasons.” When her chin trembled, his chest tightened. “I won’t linger where I’m not wanted.”

God, he admired her determination and spirit. Jackson wriggled his fingers. “Who says you’re not wanted? Now, come with me to a more private place that doesn’t have my daughter’s room right next door.”

Slowly, she put her fingers into his palm, and he tugged the headmistress to her feet. “Where, then?”

“My suite.” In silence, Jackson led her from the chamber, closed the door quietly behind them, and then guided her along the corridor. Once inside his apartment and that panel was firmly shut, he turned her about to face him. The room was no less dark than hers, but he didn’t need illumination to peer into the fathomless depths of her eyes and see the truth. “I’ve behaved horribly, but you should know, I wasn’t angry at you. I was angry at the life you led that made you do such a thing, at society for making it so difficult for women to escape such situations or even live independently of a man.” He took both of her hands in his. “Please forgive me.”

For long moments, she frowned at him. Finally, she sighed. “There’s nothing to forgive. I should seek the same from you. I lied.”

“Because you had to. I absolutely understood why you did so, and…”

“And?” One of her dark eyebrows rose with inquiry, and he wanted nothing more except to kiss that arch.

“And I was angry yesterday because I didn’t have the right to protect you as I want to, I didn’t have the right to claim you as mine for the rest of my life.”

“You are only speaking out of guilt, out of pity, or perhaps sympathy.” When she shook her head and tried to pull her hands from his, he tightened his hold. “Clearly, we are not well matched, and now that you are aware of the vast differences between us, you should steer clear.” Her chin quivered again. “For the good of everyone.”

“Why do you assume that you going away is best for Elsbeth, for me?” he asked in a soft voice. “When our lives have only been enhanced since meeting you? When it doesn’t matter one whit to me where the devil you came from or that you don’t hold the title of lady?”

“What?” Shock propelled that one word from her throat.

He nodded as a rush of joy filled his chest. “I can fix that.” Perhaps Elsbeth was correct all along in that he enjoyed fixing broken people, and if he could do that for her—and himself—by joining them as one, why shouldn’t he?

Because he loved her to distraction.

Lydia’s nerves felt strung too tight. Here the earl was, looking like sin and scandal in breeches, loose shirt, and boots, and he smelled so good! That clean scent of evergreen with a hint of snow and mint wafted to her nose, and despite the emotional strain she’d labored beneath, tiny flutters erupted in her lower belly.

“What are you trying to say?” She could hardly speak because his presence filled the space and the intensity in his eyes threatened to dissolve the strength in her knees.

“Perhaps I should show you instead of continuing to give you words you refuse to believe.”

“Fine.” Against her better judgment, Lydia allowed him to tug her over to the crushed velvet bench at the foot of his massive four-poster bed, the draperies and counterpane done in shades of navy and cream. The earl sat first but he still held her hand, and when he looked up at her, the emotions in his sapphire eyes were inscrutable. “What now?” Why couldn’t she read his intent? If he were merely playing with her, she couldn’t bear it; the ache around her heart was already too great.

“I’ve done much thinking this week, and tonight, after speaking with Elsbeth, I came to a conclusion. Which is why I’ve been distant from you during the last leg of our journey.”

“What does that mean?” Truly, she was baffled, for he’d told her nothing.

As his grin widened, flutters erupted in her lower belly. It was one of the things that had first drawn her notice of him when she’d come to on that muddy road. “I want you to marry me.”

“What?” This is outrageous! Surely, she hadn’t heard him correctly.

He nodded. “Marry me.”

“I… I don’t know what to say.” In fact, she gawked at him with a slightly opened jaw.

“You may answer me when I’m finished.” Jackson winked. He raked his gaze down her form with such languid perusal that renewed awareness prickled her skin. “You are quite ravishing in that gown.” He flicked his gaze to hers. “I sent my butler out to the village to buy you all the things you would need.”

Heat went through her cheeks. “It is far too much, but to be honest, I adore the gown, and the new unmentionables are quite appreciated.”

“Good. I can’t wait to separate you from them.” And still he hadn’t released her hand. “Be warned, I intend to take full advantage tonight.”

Merciful heavens. A shiver careened down her spine, but she couldn’t resist teasing him. “That assumes I will allow you access. It has been a very trying twenty-four hours or so.”

His laugh mixed with a growl. “Oh, you’ll allow it and then some, Lydia… or should I call you Bess?”

“I haven’t been that woman for many years, so I would prefer Lydia,” she said on a choked whisper, for this was a heady conversation indeed.

“Or I can refer to you as sweeting if you’d rather.” Not giving her time to reply, the earl tugged on her hand, pulled her into his lap. Before she knew what he was about, he’d put her back against his chest and had her legs straddling the outside of his thighs.

Anticipation swirled through her belly. “What have you planned?” Lydia could barely force out the question from a suddenly tight throat, so great was her excitement and wariness. Had he truly meant the endearment?

“Everything, my dear. I want to plan everything, see it all anew.” The rumble of his baritone in her ear sent gooseflesh racing over her skin as he loosened the laces at the back of her gown. “Perhaps usher in a new aspect to our relationship, if you’re of a mind?”

“You speak of marriage; you were in earnest just now.” It wasn’t a question. “You wish to marry a woman so far unsuited to your station it’s almost laughable.” She half-twisted about to look into his face. “Scandal will touch your name, swirl about both you and Elsbeth.”

His eyes darkened. “Let me combat what might come our way.” Slowly, firmly, he tugged and pulled down her bodice as well as the underthings beneath until her breasts popped free of the fabric. “I am an earl and not without some power within the beau monde .”

A shiver moved down her spine from the chill in the air. “But…”

“And right now, I intend to use that power on you.”

Tingles shot through her core. He was quite potent and very different than he’d been the past day or so. “Feel free to begin your seduction. I look forward to your persuasive argument.”

“Ha. You know I will win.” He nuzzled the crook of her shoulder and at the same time, he lightly danced his fingers over her breasts, slowly, oh so slowly, bringing her nipples into tight buds.

A soft moan sneaked out, seemingly overly loud in the silence. Her back arched of its own accord, which put her bosom more firmly into his hands. “Lovely opening salvo.”

“I thought so.” He chuckled. Using his palms, he caressed those sensitive buds, brought them into a frenzy that had pleasure zipping between them and her core. Need pulsed at the apex of her thighs, and no matter how much she wanted him to take her in a firmer grip, he merely continued to tease with the lightest of touches.

It was almost as if he wished to bring her to the brink of pleasure through her breasts alone. Was that even possible? Never had she met a man like the earl.

“This is… nice.”

“Only? Then obviously I’m not doing it correctly.” With his lips at her nape and the rasp of his evening stubble providing enhanced erotic sensations, Jackson edged the gown from her shoulders and arms, pulling it down until it pooled at her waist. Then he began teasing her breasts as well as her nipples all over again, and this time, the friction and heat from his skin added another layer to the play.

“Oh!” Lydia’s eyes shuttered closed. Once more her back arched. Need throbbed through her body; her breath came in shallow pants. Blissful sensations darted over her skin. Fires turned her blood molten. She was nearly at that edge, hovering, waiting, seconds away from flying just from his fingers. “More,” she gasped out and lifted a hand to wrap around his nape, encourage his head closer to hers. “I need more convincing, Greystone.”

The sound of his chuckle reverberated in her chest. “Still a managing baggage, especially in carnal endeavors. I rather adore that.”

Before she could respond, he drew up the skirting and then his hand was between her thighs, his fingers burrowing through her curls. Always skilled, he strummed those talented digits along her flesh, back and forth, and when she whimpered and put a hand over his to guide him to where she needed him, he found her swollen button, encouraged it out of hiding, and then applied friction to that nubbin as if that was his only purpose.

Shivery sensations raced along her spine, pushed into every nerve ending. She held his hand tight to her pearl, clutched his nape with her other hand as if she were a wanton widow. He kissed her neck but didn’t leave off with his frenzied friction, glided his lips over her cheek, and when he bit her earlobe, streaks of need slammed through her core to heighten the feelings already crashing through her body.

“Jackson…” She squirmed on his lap. The hard ridge of his arousal pressed against her bottom. “I’m nearly there…” Drat it, she couldn’t concentrate on words any longer, and if he didn’t finish her, she’d melt into a puddle at his feet.

“Then let me help you over.” The man pinched her nipple, rolled that hardened tip. The pleasure-pain sent her hurtling toward that glimmering edge. His chuckle was all too satisfied as he increased the pressure. “Don’t fight it, Lydia. Let me see you come undone because it’s perfection… you are perfection.”

Those words made her shatter, and the more she relaxed, the greater the wave of bliss smacked into her, carried her to that void where sound and light didn’t exist. For the first time since they’d started coming together in scandal, Lydia screamed out her pleasure. She writhed on his lap, held his hand tighter to her button while contractions pulsed through her core.

“I knew you would enjoy that,” he whispered against the shell of her ear.

Eventually, she came back to herself with only enough strength to slump against him. “I don’t know how you manage to do this to me so quickly.”

“Fate, sweeting. It’s all fate.” He nuzzled the crook of her shoulder again before he eased her off his lap. “I’m not nearly done tonight.” He stood, caught her hand and then divested her of the rest of her clothing. “Beautiful. I’ll never have enough of seeing you thusly.”

“Do stop.” Lydia fought off a blush as he raked his gaze up and down her nude body. “You’ve seen me before.”

“Not nearly as much as I would like.” He tugged her into his arms and claimed her lips in a series of gentle kisses that left her reeling and as weak-kneed as if he’d sent her flying again. “I am trying to show you how cherished you are, how valuable you are to me despite your origins, despite the need to concoct a false history, to show you that your husband was completely and heinously wrong.”

“I am beginning to see that… believe that.” The reality of that stunned her. Everything was different with him than with her husband. How could she discount that? She trailed her fingers down his chest, plucking at the lawn of his shirt. “Perhaps you should remove this, hmm? I am at a disadvantage.”

“As if that is a bad thing.” Yet Jackson stepped back from her while Lydia slipped into bed.

The shadows of the room shrouded him as she unashamedly watched him undress. As soon as his chest was bare, she sucked in a breath of appreciation. Her heartbeat accelerated, for he truly was an attractive man.

Shadows contoured the ridges of his mostly flat abdomen. A mat of black hair spread over his chest in an abstract butterfly pattern. How well she remembered what that coarse design felt like against her sensitive nipples from their previous couplings. Delicious tingles danced through her lower belly as he removed his boots and finally his breeches to reveal lean, muscled thighs and calves. His engorged length sprang from a nest of black curls. For the space of a few heartbeats, he stood immobile as if giving her time to properly appreciate him.

“Do you wish for me to pose?”

“That isn’t necessary. You already know how much I adore your form.” Restless hunger coiled within her body. If he didn’t join with her soon, she’d surely explode. “Come.”

“That is the general idea.” With a cheeky grin, he joined her on the bed, covering her body with his.

She sighed, for the familiar weight of him, the scent of him, the touch of his hands on her skin brought back so many memories gleaned in merely a week, yet this was slightly different. When she reached for his shaft, he caught her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand.

“None of that. This night is for your pleasure.”

“You said that the last time we were together.”

“It is no less true now.”

“But I want to—”

“Later, for if I have my way, this won’t be the only time you share my bed tonight.” No more words were spoken, for he set out to explore every inch of her body with his lips, tongue, and teeth, and when he finally released her wrists, his hands and fingers were seemingly everywhere.

By the time he returned to her lips, she balanced on the edge of bliss and insanity. It wouldn’t take much to make her come undone, and she shook from the sensations that swamped her. “I can take no more of this teasing.” Her voice sounded raspy from the force of the emotions swirling through her body. She tugged on his shoulders to bring him closer, caught his head between her palms to kiss him and perhaps urge him to finally penetrate her, bring a surcease to the throbbing need between her thighs.

“How much do you want me, Lydia?” he murmured against the side of her neck before pressing a line of baby-fine kisses beneath her jaw.

“I want you now and always because…” Lydia squirmed beneath him, shoved a hand between them to take him in hand. The silky hardness of him sent her ever closer to release as she guided him to where she wanted him the most. The wide head of his shaft glanced over her highly sensitive button, and she shuddered from the exquisite sensations.

“Because?” Then he followed the inquiry with a nip to one of her nipples.

Pleasure pinwheeled through her body. “Because I’m quite a ninny and I’ve fallen in love with you as if I haven’t the sense God gave a goose.”

“I feel I must inform you that geese are quite intelligent, love.” But he settled between her bent knees and kept her within the cage of his arms. With a powerful flex of his hips, he speared into her and didn’t stop until she was fully impaled. “Ah, Lydia, you have no idea how much I adore you,” he whispered against the shell of her ear.

“Meaning?” She wanted to be very sure as she looped her arms about his broad shoulders, lifted her legs and fitted them around his waist. The thick girth of him filled her all too well, and as he pulled back only to repeat that movement, a satisfied sigh escaped her.

“You don’t know, can’t feel it, see it in everything I do?” The earl brushed his lips overs hers. “From the moment I found you on that road, you have captivated me, and once you and I became involved in a carnal relationship, I fell a bit harder, but after hearing your story, seeing how you survived, witnessing your strength and determination, knowing that you truly care for Elsbeth, I knew it was inevitable I would continue that fall into love.”

It was almost as if he’d come right out of a story book to sweep her away, and she loved him even more for it. “You are a romantic.”

“Perhaps.” And then he moved, treating her to gentle, languid strokes that only served to enhance the feelings of madness flitting about the perimeter of her consciousness. The coupling went beyond mere intercourse. Jackson made love to her. Never before had he joined with her in such care and devotion. The change brought tears to her eyes, and she gave herself over to the beauty of the ancient dance.

Over and over, he thrust. Their bodies rocked together. For long moments, they communed only through touches and caresses. Sighs and moans broke the silence, and each little exploration sent frissons of need throughout her nerve endings. Then his pace changed. More force and friction were applied. He gripped her hips tight while his pumped, and the root of his shaft rubbed that all-important bundle of nerves at her center. With each renewed stroke, every frantic push, Lydia was hurtled closer and closer to that looming cliff where she’d learn to fly all over again.

Then she couldn’t tamp the sensations any longer in favor of drawing them out. He thrust again and with authority; the emotions deep down in his eyes were startling for all they promised. She caught her breath. Her body tensed, and then down, down, down she fell, into that void filled with nothing except white light and intense bliss.

“Jackson!” At the last second, she tamped that keening cry as best she could.

“So damned beautiful.” The earl grunted and then groaned as he followed into his own release. His member pulsed and jerked. Warmth spilled into her core, and as he ground his pelvis into hers to prolong the coupling, she trembled and went gently over the edge once more.

“You are mine, Lydia,” he whispered against the side of her neck while he collapsed on top of her. “There is no one I want more than you.”

“So charming.” Completely spent, she clung to him, not quite ready to lose that heated intimacy. When his arms came around her and he rolled them onto their sides, she sighed. “Yes,” she said as a clock somewhere in the room softly chimed the midnight hour.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Yes.”

“To what? I’m afraid I’m going to have to be an arse here and demand specifics.” But a chuckle followed the request.

She kissed his lips. “Yes, I will marry you. I have never met a man like you, Jackson. The kindness and respect you’ve given me, the way you’ve never judged me through every installment of my horrible past…” A sigh escaped her. “Sometimes I’m fearful that this is a dream and when I wake, you will be gone.”

“That will never happen.”

“Though I have reservations—”

“No doubts, no regrets, no reservations,” he whispered, and in between each phrase, he kissed her. “This is raw and real, and that is exactly what life should be, so we can experience everything, so that we know we’re alive. Together, we’ll meet whatever challenge comes our way, and will be better equipped for it because we have already, indeed, lived a life separately. That’s wisdom.” Taking her left hand in his, he brought it to his lips. “Marry me, Lydia. Be my wife, my countess, my lover. Help me continue to work for change, to raise Elsbeth into the young lady she needs to be, let me help you in making your finishing school bigger and better, for one day, women will change the world.”

Tears filled her eyes. “Perhaps not in our lifetime or even Elsbeth’s but yes, they certainly will, and governments will be all the better for it.” Her hand trembled in his, and she gasped. “What if Elsbeth objects?”

“She won’t. In fact, it was her pushing me tonight that allowed me to find my courage and ask for your hand.”

“Truly?”

“Yes.” When he flashed his customary grin, she chuckled.

“Very well. I have already agreed to marry you. How else should I convince you?”

“If I can procure the proper license, marry me on Twelfth Night, before we venture back to London. Once we arrive in Town, I want everything proper so we can begin our life together immediately.” Then he slipped the signet ring off his pinky finger and pushed it onto the fourth finger of her left hand. It was a bit big, but the sentiment was there. “As soon as the shops open, I’ll procure a different ring, something symbolic, or I’ll have you go through the estate jewels in London for one you truly favor.”

She never had a ring from her first husband. But then, she never had his respect or love either. “Twelfth Night sounds like a lovely time to begin our life together as long as it doesn’t become a farce as Shakespeare wrote about.”

“Never. An adventure, quite possibly, and a heated one at that, but never a farce, sweeting. Never that.” He kissed her, and for long moments after that, she was lost to the distraction of him.

Of them together.

And it was everything she’d ever dreamed of in the days when she’d been lost. Thankfully, she was no longer that, for it happened at Christmas, this falling in love, and it was even better the second time around. This time marriage would prove so much different, and she couldn’t wait.