Page 14 of To Wager with Love

“Oh, love,” he groaned, resting his forehead upon hers. “That may be, but you’re foxed, and I can’t… damn it, Harry, I can’t make love to you. Not now. I need to know you want this.”

Harriet glared at him, outraged. “Jasper, we’re naked, and your hand is… is there. I think you can safely assume I want this.”

“Do you, Harry,” he said, his voice low as he nuzzled her neck. “Do you really?”

“Jasper Cadogan, if you don’t finish what you’ve started, I will kill you.”

There was a low rumble of laughter and Jasper sighed. “All right, love. Don’t fret, I’ll put you out of your misery.”

Chapter 4

No. I won’t come back, and I certainly won’t marry Gordon bloody Anderson. So there!

―Excerpt of a letter from Miss Bonnie Campbell to The Earl of Morven.

Still the night of the St Clairs’ summer ball. 30th August 1814, Holbrooke House, Sussex.

Jasper could have cried. As it was, he would murder his bloody brother, for he didn’t have the slightest doubt that it was Jerome who had been responsible for lacing the punch. Here he was, with the woman he loved in his arms, only to discover she was drunk. He’d suspected as much earlier but a) it had been impossible to believe Harriet was drunk, and b) she’d denied it so vigorously he’d believed her, or perhaps he’d wanted to believe her badly enough that he’d ignored the obvious. Either way, he couldn’t pretend he didn’t know now, no matter how much he wanted to.

Yet he couldn’t leave her when he’d worked her to such a pitch. She was so responsive to his touch, far less shy and nervous than he might have expected. He wondered if that was the drink, but thought perhaps it was just Harriet. Before things had changed, she’d been bold enough in speaking her mind around him. It was only in crowds or before strangers she grew tongue-tied and unsure of herself. It always pained him to see it, making him wish he could hold her hand and reassure her.

She didn’t need her hand held now, he thought wryly, as she pulled at his shoulders, tugging him back down to her, clutching at his hair until he kissed her again. He couldn’t make love to her, not now, not when he was uncertain if she really wanted him to, but he could ease the aching he knew she felt.

He kissed her, slow and deep, savouring her, bewitched by the enticing taste of innocence and eagerness as she sighed against his mouth, and his hand returned to caressing her private flesh. It was no hardship to pleasure her, even though his own body ached with the desire to join with her, to make her his in every way, in such a way she could no longer deny she was his, or that they belonged together. As she came apart beneath his touch, arching and crying out, her fingers digging into his back, he stared down at her, his heart bursting with wanting, with loving her, and with the desperate desire to ensure this would be his and his alone, for always.

“Jasper,” she murmured, sleepy now, her limbs pliant and heavy as the pleasure ebbed, leaving her boneless and sated.

“I’m here, love,” he said, gathering her into his arms and pulling her against his chest. “I’ll always be here,” he added as her breathing deepened and she snuggled into his embrace.

***

“Congratulations,” his mother said, her tone dry as she stared down at them.

Harriet was blushing with such ferocity he could feel the heat of it against his skin—his bare skin, as he was stark bollock naked, as was perfectly obvious to their audience. It was only Harry who was covering him, and he’d done his best to cover her with his coat.

Still, Jasper glowered at Mr Burton, Jerome, and his friends.

“Turn your backs!” he growled.

“I think we can do better than that,” Mr Burton replied, his expression one of deep disapproval as he opened the door and indicated that everyone should leave.

They did, thank heavens. All except Jasper’s mother.

“I should like to speak to you both back at the house as soon as….” She looked at the clothes scattered about the summerhouse and her lips twitched. “As soon as you are able. We have a wedding to arrange. I must say, Harriet,” she added, giving into the urge to grin, “I couldn’t be happier. Well, done, Jasper!”

She clapped her hands together with obvious delight and bustled out of the room.

Jasper held his breath.

Harriet was rigid in his arms and still turned away from him. She didn’t move; he suspected she didn’t even blink. She seemed too shocked to react. He listened to everyone moving away from the summerhouse, heard their voices receding as his mother ushered them away.

He took a deep breath, wondering what to say as his gaze fell on the smooth expanse of Harriet’s shoulder. Unable to resist, he leaned down and kissed it. She gasped, and for just a moment he thought that a good sound, and that perhaps they could finish what they’d started, but then Harriet scrambled away from him.

“Going to be sick,” she managed, and barely made it out of the door before he heard retching sounds from outside.

Perhaps not, then.

***