Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

O ctavia woke to find she was not alone.

At some point during the night, Jasper must have joined her. He faced her, bedclothes tangled around his waist to reveal the beautiful contours of his naked chest. She took a moment to admire him, her eyes lingering on the bruises which were fading and would soon be gone, the scars traced over his skin. How she hated these signs of past pain. The knowledge that others had done him harm cut deeply.

He was still soundly asleep. Or so she thought. He had certainly fooled her once before. Tentatively, she reached for him, trailing her fingertips over his chest. He did not flinch, his breaths continuing evenly. How peaceful he was in slumber. There were many sides to Jasper Sutton, but this—his vulnerability—was the side that was hers alone. She relished in the time they spent together in the privacy of their chambers.

Not just for the physical intimacy they shared, but for the emotional intimacy as well. She was getting to know her husband in new and unexpected ways. This part of marriage, the bond growing between them, was something she had never anticipated. That he had come to her here last night instead of seeking out the peace of his own bed and chamber warmed her heart.

She told herself to stop touching him, to let him have his rest. Heaven knew what hour he had finally gone to bed. And yet, she could not seem to cease. She loved touching him.

I love him.

She froze, fingertips hovering over the protrusion of his collarbone.

She could not possibly… She had most definitely not…

Oh, good sweet heavens.

She was in love with Jasper Sutton.

When had it happened, and how?

He hummed low in his throat and shifted, one of his legs moving so that the bedclothes slid even lower on his torso, almost exposing him. That was when she noticed the pronounced ridge of him, pressed against the counterpane.

The new feelings swirling within her collided with the fiery storm of passion. He had introduced her to new realms of desire she had not imagined existed. He had taught her there was no shame in reveling in her body's reaction to him.

"Jasper," she whispered, suddenly needing him to wake up, not just so he could help assuage the hunger burning to life, but so he could offer distraction.

"Mmm," he said, as if savoring something delicious, and stretched like a cat.

A big, handsome, dangerous cat.

She did not want to love him. Loving this man, she had no doubt, would not be easy. He was complex and forbidding and hard. But he was also soft when he was with his daughters, tender when he was with Octavia. He was so much more than she had ever supposed. He had proven himself to her, each day.

She gave his shoulder a small shake. "Jasper."

His eyes blinked open, fringed with those sooty lashes most ladies would be jealous of. His hazel stare met hers, and she felt that same jolt she always had, right from the first moment she had dared to brazen her way into his edge-of-the-East End gaming hell.

"Minx." The grin he gave her was slow and charming.

He quite took her breath.

"Good morning," she managed.

"Is it?" He blinked and turned toward the windows where sunlight crept in through the edges of the curtains. "Blast. I'm damned tired."

Guilt at waking him pierced her. "Then you should sleep more. Forgive me. I was not thinking about how little you must have slept."

Indeed, all she had been thinking about was that they might indulge in one of her favorite aspects of married life. What a selfish wretch she was.

Jasper rolled toward her, burying his neck in her throat and nuzzling her. "Plenty of time for slumber later. Christ, you smell like heaven. What is that scent?"

He had noticed?

She could not suppress her smile. "Orange blossom, jasmine, lily of the valley, and carnation."

One of her only nods to vanity, as it happened—her perfume, specially blended for her. She used it with the greatest of care, quite sparingly, but enough so that it lingered and she could smell it as she went about her day. It never failed to lift her spirits.

"And Octavia." He kissed to her ear, finding that secret place where his mouth never failed to turn her insides to molten liquid. "There is something deliciously wonderful that's just you."

Oh, there was his masterful charm. Rough and yet so very effective.

"I am pleased you…" Her words trailed off as she briefly lost her ability to think when his tongue flicked against her skin. "Pleased you…enjoy…my perfume."

His lips curved in what she knew must be a smile she felt on her eager flesh. "I enjoy far more than that, darling." His hand cupped her breast, giving her a gentle squeeze that had her back arching. "Why the devil do you insist on sleeping in this nonsense? Much as I like taking it off you, I prefer you naked."

He plucked at her nipple. She had to admit she disliked the barrier between them as well. But still. She had her modesty. And on more than one occasion, Anne and Elizabeth had come to her in the night, claiming they'd suffered the same terrible dream and in need of comforting.

"Take it off me then," she dared him now, running her hands over the sculpted planes of his back.

He was so strong, skin so sleek and hot. How she loved him. Although her realization was new, these feelings were not. There had always been something within her that longed for Jasper Sutton. To her own downfall, perhaps. But here she was, and here he was.

"With pleasure," he said on a growl, and then he was grabbing fistfuls of her night rail, and pulling it over her body.

She shifted, moving herself lower in the bed to enable him to lift the garment over her head and toss it to the floor. He rose on his knees on the bed, dragging the bedclothes away to uncover the both of them. Her eyes devoured him—the broad lines of his shoulders, the strength of his chest, the lean slab of muscle that was his abdomen, and lower still. Those strong legs, the thick, long length of him engorged and ready.

She parted her thighs in welcome, words failing her. All she knew was that her body wanted Jasper every bit as much as her heart did. Once, she would have been shy. Too timid to show herself to him in this way. But she had learned that her husband found nothing more inspiring than her own desire. It seemed to undo him every time.

And knowing she held that power over him, such a strong, unshakeable man?

Well, how could she not be pleased?

His gaze was on her now, heated and appreciative. "Look at you, so pink and perfect and wet."

She felt perfect. Felt worthy of his praise. Feeling daring, she traced her own seam with her forefinger, brushing over her pearl in the process and sending a jolt of pleasure through her.

"Yes," he said, the lone word a sibilant sigh seemingly torn from him. "Touch yourself."

Ever aware of his gaze following her every action, she toyed with the aching bundle of flesh that was most responsive, swirling over it with two fingers until pleasure hummed through her.

"Show me how you make yourself come when you're alone and I'm tending to the tables," he urged, voice low.

She had touched herself. Both before she had known Jasper, and more after. Before, it had always seemed a terrible sin. She would rejoice in the bliss and then be weighted down by the guilt of her secret shame. But he had taught her there was nothing wrong with enjoying the way he made her feel. Even the way she made herself feel, when he was not there. She rubbed over her pearl again and again as he watched, that feverish gaze making her feel as if she would do anything to please him.

"Lower," he urged. "I want you to feel how wet and hot you are."

Heeding him, she moved her touch through the slickness of her folds, parting herself. Following her own instinct, she allowed her fingertips to examine the dip where her entrance was. Her gaze still locked on Jasper's, she sank a finger inside herself.

His guttural oath spurred her on. As did this new sensation—her channel gripping her own finger, holding it tightly.

"Fuck yourself for me," he said.

She knew what he wanted. Knew what she wanted, too. Slowly, she withdrew her finger and then sank it inside once more in a parody of his lovemaking. It was a pale comparison, but there was something about the expression on his face and the rapid swelling of his cock—he was massive now, the slit on his crown oozing a pearly bead of mettle—that heightened the sensations.

Then, he was upon her, sliding between her legs, his head dipping. He sucked her into his mouth, then alternated with tantalizing flutters of his tongue. The combination of his touch and her own was enough to send her over the edge. She reached her pinnacle with a cry, her fingers sliding from her body, only to be replaced by Jasper's tongue. He plunged into her on a groan, feasting upon her as if she were the most delicious dessert he had ever consumed. As if he could never get enough.

Just when she thought she would come apart once more, he rose, pressing his cock to her aching entrance. With one thrust of his hips, he was inside her, the deep plunge of his hardness excruciatingly good. Everything about him felt so perfect and right. She felt at home in a new way. As if she had always been meant to be his and he had always been meant to be hers. It was impossible and yet undeniable all at once.

"You feel so bloody good," he told her, holding still, their bodies joined, stares connected.

She reached for him, drawing him into her embrace. Needing this closeness in an elemental way. Needing him, just him. How miraculous life seemed. How she loved him. But she did not dare make that confession just yet. The realization was too new.

Instead, she ran her hands over his shoulders. "Make love to me."

"With pleasure." He withdrew almost completely from her and then slid inside once more, his rhythm painstakingly slow.

The leisurely pace had her on edge as he glided in and out. When he reached between them to stroke her, she lost control. Another wave of relief swept over her. She arched her back and cried out, clenching on him.

Jasper moved faster, his big body pinning hers to the bed. Finally, on a groan of his own, he lost control, pouring himself into her. She held him tightly as he slumped against her, his cock still pulsing inside her.

"I'll crush you," he said, raising himself on one elbow.

"No." She kissed his brow, his nose, the slashing blade of his cheekbone. "Stay where you are. I like feeling you this way."

"I like it too, minx."

He took her lips in a languorous kiss, and her heart had never been fuller.

Jasper had a problem.

Several problems, in fact.

The first was sitting opposite him at the moment. And Tim Bradley was not the sort of problem one wanted to be confronted with, on account of his distinctive smell.

"Next time you pay a call to The Sinner's Palace, take a goddamn bath, will you?" he growled at the older man.

The scent of sweat, hair grease, and unwashed body was enough to make even the most stalwart of men gag. Hugh had discreetly coughed while checking the man for weapons.

Bradley grinned, showing a mouth full of missing and rotten teeth. "Careful with your insults, Sutton. I'll knock you on the idea pot next time."

Jasper drummed his fingers on his desk. "Why are you intruding on my day?"

Whilst his day had begun in excellent fashion—making love to his wife twice before breakfast—it had quickly descended to a day from hell. And that reminded him of his other problems. He needed to find a home for his wife and daughters, and he needed to find a tutor for Anne and Elizabeth. It was deuced unfair of him to expect Octavia to bear the burden for their education. While she excelled at teaching them, he would not have her playing nursemaid.

"You and your brothers ‘ave been telling anyone with ears that I set fire to your building," Bradley said. "It ain't true."

This, Jasper did not believe.

"Witnesses saw Bradleys there before the fire," he said calmly.

"Witnesses is trying to cause trouble," Bradley countered. "And they bloody well ‘ave. Can't get any belch or bingo."

Jasper remained unperturbed, other than the putrid scent of Tim Bradley filling his office. "If you can't procure ale or spirits, it is hardly my problem."

"Your brothers paid the merchants not to sell to me," Bradley bit out. "That is my damned problem."

It was possible Rafe or Hart had taken action without Jasper's knowledge. Squeezing off the liquor supply to the scurrilous Bradleys was one way to retaliate that was sure to have lasting consequences. As a rule, men did not prefer to gamble dry.

He shrugged. "You started the war, Bradley. Consider yourself fortunate a few bumps and bruises and a lack of ale is all you've suffered. I could've seen you tossed into the river."

"Same could ‘appen to your lady wife," Bradley said with a sneer.

The rage was instant and boiling. He slammed his fists on his desk and rose, towering over Bradley. "Did you dare to threaten my wife?"

"No need to threaten." Bradley's lip curled as he rose to his feet as well. "Just statin' truth is all. You ain't the king of the East End."

"That's where you're wrong, Bradley," he snarled. "I am the king of the East End. And if you go after my wife, I'll kill you myself."

He meant those words.

The very notion of anyone doing harm to Octavia…

Never. She was his family. His. And he…he loved her.

Oh, Christ. He was in love with his wife. What a time to make such a discovery, with Bradley stinking up his office and threatening to hurt her.

Bradley paled. "I ‘eard a rumor about ‘er, is all."

Jasper circled the desk. "If any man is caught speaking about my wife, I'll rip the tongue from his mouth! Starting with you."

Bradley backed up with such haste, he knocked over his chair. And then he stumbled and fell over it, landing on his back, wild-eyed. Rather like a creature who knew he was about to be put out of his misery.

Jasper stalked forward, having no mercy, and stepped on Bradley's fingers, pinning him in place. "Did you hear what I said, Bradley?"

The other man howled in pain. "That ‘urts! Get off my bleeding ‘ooks."

"I'll break your hooks and pluck out your tongue," he enunciated slowly, carefully. "Unless you tell me what you heard about my wife."

"I'll tell you everything," Bradley said, sounding desperate. "Just call off your dogs and let me ‘ave my ale and spirits."

Jasper increased the pressure, leaning more heavily on the foot currently atop his nemesis's fingers. "You ain't in a position to bargain, Bradley."

"Please."

"Tell me," Jasper repeated.

He had done his utmost to keep Octavia separate from men of Bradley's ilk. Hell, he had not even realized anyone knew he'd married. But then, word traveled with haste in their circles. It always had.

"I ‘eard there's a price on ‘er," Bradley bit out. "It ain't me or any of my sons, neither."

"Who?" Jasper demanded, increasing the pressure again, until he felt Bradley's knuckle crack.

"Christ! Stop, please. It ain't me! I don't know. All I know is one of my lads ‘eard a rumor. Someone wants to use ‘er to get to you."

The rage that had been building from the moment Bradley first mentioned Octavia had swelled into a massive hellfire within him. How dare anyone threaten his wife? There was a damned price on her? He would find the bastard responsible and tear him limb from limb.

"This is all you know?" he pressed, needing to be certain.

There was also a possibility Bradley had invented the tale himself in an effort to persuade Jasper to allow him to procure more ale and liquor. By allying themselves with the Winter family, the Suttons had become virtually omnipotent. He would have to take this information to his brothers and begin making inquiries.

"It's all I know. I swear on my mother's soul," Bradley said, his voice pained.

Jasper removed his foot from the other man's fingers, mostly because he was eager for Tim Bradley and his filthy arse to get out of his office. "I'll see what I can do about your ale and liquor, Bradley. But a warning. If I discover you've lied…"

"I ain't lying." Bradley scrambled to his feet.

"Fair enough. I don't want blood on my carpets today. I've just recently replaced them."

That much was true. Although the man who had last bled on this floor had been attempting to kill Gavin Winter, Jasper would not hesitate to kill to protect anyone he loved. He watched dispassionately as Bradley fled.

It would seem he needed to attend to his other problems with far more haste than he had originally supposed. Grimly, he called out to Hugh.

Octavia was in the nursery with Anne and Elizabeth, working once more on letters when the door opened and Jasper came striding over the threshold. He moved, as always, with the assured grace of a man confident in his power. However, there was a tenseness to his shoulders, a difference in the way he held his jaw, that she recognized at once. Something was amiss.

Not another fire, she hoped.

His bruises were fading, and he had assured her that he had made certain the Bradleys would not dare to do further damage to Sutton property. Unaccustomed to this new world, she had believed him.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

He flashed her a smile, but she sensed the lack of genuine emotion behind it.

"Why should anything be wrong for me to visit my ladies?" he returned lightly, offering her an abbreviated bow when he reached her.

"There does not have to be," she agreed, searching his countenance, the knot of worry within her growing tighter. "However, you do not quite seem like yourself."

"I've not been myself since a certain lady first barged into The Sinner's Palace, intent upon writing a scandal journal."

He had meant to tease, but the reminder of her aspirations, for now placed carefully upon a shelf and out of reach, did not fail to sting. She still very much longed to write her scandal journal. Being Jasper's wife and mother to Anne and Elizabeth was fulfilling. However, she had not forgotten her singular aspiration from when her life had been so very different.

"I am still intent upon it," she told him.

"Absolutely not," was his response.

Her frustration rose. "Why?"

"Because I'll not have you in danger." His jaw clenched.

"Danger?" Anne and Elizabeth had risen from their chairs and surrounded them, their little mouths pulled into matching frowns. "Why would Mama be in danger?"

"I wouldn't be," she reassured them, giving each of their small shoulders a pat before meeting her husband's gaze. "There is no reason at all to think I would be in danger from writing a few articles here and there."

"This is a conversation to be ‘ad later," he said smoothly, "between the two of us."

He had lost his h again.

The stubborn urge to force him into the dialogue rose up, but she tamped it down. Something was indeed amiss, and she could sense it. "Shall I fetch Pen or Lily to watch over the girls so we can speak?"

"Not necessary." The pained smile had returned. "Anne and Elizabeth are to be coming with us."

"Coming with us? Where are we going?"

"Home," he said, one word.

Succinct.

And yet, it only served to heighten her confusion. "We are home, Jasper."

"A gambling den ain't a proper place for you," he said. "I leased a townhome. It ain't as grand as your sister's, but I think it will serve well enough for now."

She stared at him, shocked. He had not uttered a word to her about such a plan. Indeed, she had believed the gaming hell was to be their residence, the private quarters shared with his siblings, for the foreseeable future.

"You have leased a townhome," she repeated, giving her head a shake as if the action would clear the cobwebs which seemed to have taken up residence in her mind. It did not. "When?"

"Today," he said. "Just an hour ago. The entire affair is furnished. Quite plummy."

This was…more than unexpected. It was a shock. It was strange.

"How long have you been planning to lease a home?" She frowned at him. "And why did you not speak of this to me before now?"

She would have preferred to be involved in the process, of course. What if he had chosen a home that would not prove a safe location for Anne and Elizabeth? What if the home had been neglected? What if the furniture was shabby and the rooms too small?

"It only recently occurred to me," was all he said. "Come now, the three of you. I'll drive you there in the phaeton and you shall see what you think of it. Girls, you shall sit on our laps. The men can bring your things later."

"We are meant to move there today ?" Her outrage was growing by the moment.

How dare he fail to mention such a momentous change to her? How dare he decide to uproot herself and the children to a place they had never seen without warning? He had merely sauntered into the nursery like a king and had announced they were leaving.

Forever.

"There shan't be a better day," he said. "The sooner the three of you are at home there, the better."

"The three of us? Just the three of us, or will you be living there as well?" she questioned him.

"Of course I will be there whenever I am able. I'll be needing to adjust roles with Rafe, Hart, and Wolf. They will take on the bulk of the evening responsibilities, and I'll attend to the morning and afternoon duties here at The Sinner's Palace."

The smooth speed of his response was every bit as troubling as all the other facets of his sudden appearance and announcement. She did not trust the reason for the abrupt shift.

"What has happened?" she asked again. "To cause this sudden change, Jasper? Just this morning, you said nary a word."

His shoulders stiffened again, all the confirmation she required that something was wrong. Only, he refused to elaborate on what.

"I want what is best for my wife and daughters," he said, pinning a small smile to his sensual lips. "Can a man not want what is best for his family?"

"Will we share a chamber at the new ‘ome?" Elizabeth asked, interrupting the flow of questions and reassurances.

"You needn't," Jasper said, looking down to give his daughter a fond glance. "Unless you and Anne wish it?"

"We do!" both the girls exclaimed simultaneously.

"I would be terribly lonely without Elizabeth," Anne added, giving her sister an impromptu embrace.

The two girls held each other tightly, and Octavia's heart gave a pang. "Then that is what you shall have," she found herself promising them.

They were so close, truly the best of friends, and it was wonderful to see how much the twins cared for each other. Octavia suspected it was not just because of their need to protect each other before coming to live with Jasper, but also because of the unique bond of twins.

"Of course you shall," Jasper echoed. "Nothing will change except the three of you will be safer."

Safer.

The word struck a chill in her heart, chasing the warmth that had flared to life at Anne and Elizabeth's sisterly love for each other. She was not wrong, then. Something was amiss. And that something was the reason for his sudden leasing of a home and declaration they were to live there.

"May I bring Cora?" Elizabeth asked politely, referring to the small doll Jasper had recently gifted her.

"And may I bring Hannah?" asked Anne, speaking of hers.

"Of course you must bring them as well," Jasper said agreeably, as if he had not just announced such a massive change of paths for them all. "Go and fetch them now. I saw them in the parlor. Only the parlor, girls, nowhere else."

His stern reminder was likely lost as his daughters raced from the room in a whirl of pattering feet and petticoats. Octavia waited until the girls were out of earshot before turning back to her husband.

"Will you tell me now?" she asked.

He sighed, looking suddenly weary. "I've been made aware of a possible threat to you."

Her earlier irritation with him vanished.

His words sent an icy tendril of dread snaking through her. "A threat to me?"

His jaw clenched, and he ran his fingers through his coal-black hair in a gesture she had come to recognize all too well. "Yes. In truth, I realized that you and the twins do not belong here in the private quarters. You deserve a true ‘ome. But when I learned about the danger to you, I knew I needed to act now. I can't lose you, Octavia."

In other circumstances, his words would have filled her with warmth. Hope, too. But there was precious little comfort to be found in this moment.

"You do not want to give Anne and Elizabeth cause for worry," she said, understanding his hesitancy to be truthful when they had been in the chamber.

"I want them to feel protected," he said, heaving a sigh. "I failed them for the first six years of their lives. I'll not fail them for the rest. Nor will I fail you."

If ever there was a champion she would want on her side, Jasper Sutton was it. He was formidable, powerful, loyal. She had no doubt he would do everything in his power to protect both his daughters and herself. Still, she had never known danger before. Her life with her parents had been quite sheltered, as had the time she had spent living with Mirabel as a spinster happily on the shelf.

The closest she had ever come to trouble of any sort was…

Well, Jasper .

She reached for his hand, taking it in hers. "I know you will not fail us. You are an excellent husband and father."

He clenched his jaw. "I'm not. If I were, I would've known them from the time they were babes. I would've kept them from the ugly parts of this world. And if I wasn't so bloody selfish, I wouldn't have married you and dragged you into this den of murderers and thieves."

"Do you regret marrying me?" she asked, hating herself for the question, yet needing to know the answer.

Even if it crushed her.

He threaded his fingers through hers. "Never, minx. You and the girls are the bright lights in my dark world. I'll do anything I must to keep you safe."

She believed him.

It was not a declaration of love, but it was something . And that something was all she required.

For now.