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Chapter Thirteen
Jackson stretched like a cat, staring down at the woman lying on the bed asleep next to him. Sunlight flooded through the cracks of the curtains. It was morning. He had slept the whole night through in her chambers, holding her in his arms.
His eyes raked over her. She was still naked beneath the blankets; her beautiful body with its flawless alabaster skin, so soft to the touch that caressing her had felt like touching silk. His body was still throbbing and replete from their lovemaking the night before. It had been more wonderful than he had ever dreamt it could be.
His eyes lingered on her shoulders and the creamy swell of her breasts beneath the blankets. Her golden hair spilled over the pillow surrounding her head like a halo. In sleep, her face looked that of a reposing angel. Her lips were slightly parted. He resisted the impulse to reach out and touch them.
His heart lurched. She was his truly his wife now. Hiswife. How had a shattered, scarred ex-soldier gotten so lucky?
He still couldn’t believe that such a treasure had fallen into his lap. Patricia was everything that he had ever hoped for but never dreamt could be his. She was not only beautiful, but she was also charming and kind and clever. When he had looked down the church aisle yesterday and saw her standing there in her exquisite silver wedding gown, looking so scared and vulnerable and so very lovely, he had offered up a prayer of utter thanks to the Lord.
For he had truly delivered him from the hell that had been his life.
He had been very nervous about the wedding night. He knew there was passion between them from that stolen kiss in her family drawing room. But would she shrink away from him when the time came? He had been resolved to be as patient and slow as he needed to be with her, so that she was fully comfortable. It had been hard restraining himself as he was so used to taking women quickly, but it had been worth it. She had opened up to him like the sweetest rosebud on a dewy morning.
She was his now. Forever. He had claimed her in word and in body.
His heart lurched again. After their pleasure, she had caressed his face, so sweetly and tenderly it had been almost too much to endure. She had trailed her fingers over his scarred cheek. Instinctively, he had stiffened, feeling so vulnerable he couldn’t stand it. But she had held her ground. She was not revolted by it.
Patricia had given him a great gift in that moment. A gift he had thought he would never receive.
It truly seemed that his new wife accepted him just the way he was. Scar and all.
He trailed a hand over her shoulder, toying with the idea of waking her so that they could make love again. She didn’t stir at all. He sighed. She was probably exhausted after the big day yesterday. It was a lot of change for her; becoming his wife and a duchess and moving to his house. And the wedding night, of course. He would leave her to sleep, to have a much-deserved lie in.
Carefully, he slipped out of the bed, picking up his discarded nightshirt and slipping it over his head. At the adjoining door to their chambers, he gazed back at her. She was still in exactly the same position; she had not discerned him leaving her at all. With one final gaze at her, he entered his own chambers and softly closed the door behind him.
* * *
Patricia’s eyelids fluttered open and she stared at the roof of the four-poster bed. For a moment, she did not know where she was at all.
She pulled herself up onto her elbows, blearily gazing around. It all flooded back into her mind. She was a married woman now. This was her new home. She was the Duchess of Merriweather!
She gasped, her eyes turning to the bed. Jackson wasn’t here any longer. When had he slipped out and left her to her slumber?
She smiled slowly, as the events of the previous evening tumbled into her mind. She was a maiden no longer. She felt a slight soreness between her legs. Suddenly, she blushed fiercely, remembering everything he had done to her. The bewildering pleasure they had shared.
She hadn’t really known what to expect, but she had never dreamt it could be so beautiful.
Her blush deepened, as she rolled over in the bed, replaying every minute detail in her mind. The way he had suckled her nipples and plunged his fingers inside her. The feel of his skin and his hot, throbbing manhood in her hand. And then…the utter amazement of that manhood entering her own body, moving within it, deeper and deeper, until everything had shattered around her like crystal shards. The most intense, joyous sensation she had ever known.
She smiled dreamily. Why had no one ever told her, how wonderful it was? Why was it a secret, only spoken of in furtive whispers? She almost felt as if she had not lived before now. As if she had been reborn in his arms.
She sat up slowly, pushing her hair back. Shewasa completely new woman, now. She was his wife, and she was the Duchess of Merriweather. A whole new life awaited her. The thought that they would do that again, over and over, filled her with so much joy that she hugged herself tightly in pure wonder.
Her heart plummeted. She still had to ask him for financial help for her family. How could she pluck up the courage? How would he look at her when he realized that she had married him for his wealth? Especially now, after what they had shared? The closeness of their bodies joining in love. Would he feel as if she had betrayed him?
Fiercely, she wiped away tears of frustration. If only she didn’t have to do it. If only she could tell him the truth – that she had never wanted to calculatingly manipulate him into marriage, but had felt compelled to? Would he understand, that as a female in this society, she had so little choice? Or would he angrily spurn her, ruining forever the burgeoning closeness between them?
Patricia truly didn’t know if she could bear it. Especially not after last night. The promise of what was happening between them might burst like a soap bubble. She would have to live with the consequences forever. She would have to live beside a man who might despise her.
Suddenly, there was a quiet knock on the door. She pushed back her hair, taking a deep breath. “Come in.”
It was Sally, her new maid. She smiled quickly, bobbing a curtsey.
“Your Grace,” she said. “I hope I am not disturbing you too soon. His Grace requested that I knock later than usual, to give you a chance to have a lie in. He thought you might need it.”
Patricia’s heart lurched. How truly thoughtful he was.
