front with pink satin ribbons. The corset was purely ornamental, not fashioned for any other purpose than the joy he’d find once he’d slid open the laces to touch the treasure beneath.
For now, however, it could stay where it was, softly molding and raising her perfect breasts. The French drawers, however, had to go.
They went.
The silk stockings stayed. The necklace stayed. The golden circlet of diamonds remained on her left hand. The pins, and there were blessedly few of them, submitted to his search, and her glorious red hair was free, tumbling, enticing.
There was no time for his evening coat; it was too well fitted, for one thing. Jessica, bless her, had already managed to undo the buttons of his pantaloons. He was so ready to explode, no more than a few deep hard strokes from bursting. Reciting lines from Paradise Lost in his head wouldn’t help him now. He couldn’t even remember the damn words.
He hadn’t felt this way since…No. He’d never felt this way. Never.
She slipped her hands inside his opened shirt, and his skin felt scalded by her touch. With a low groan of need, he lifted her onto the edge of the bed and spread her thighs, pulling her legs around his back even as he plunged into her, knowing she was ready for him.
“Yes! Gideon—yes!”
Yes, his mind echoed as he drove into her. Yes, yes, yes!
And then it was over. But it wasn’t over. The long days and nights of unbearable need had been addressed, but not the want. Because he would want her for the rest of his life.
He laid her back on the rose petal-strewn sheets, lifting her legs onto the coverlet, and smiled down at her. She looked unfocused, lost in a dream, her limbs loose, her hair spread out on the pillows like a living thing. He’d done that. Him. He would banish her past. He’d chase away every last shadow. He felt allpower-ful. She made him all-powerful.
Gideon stripped off the rest of his clothes and joined her in the bed, placed a kiss on her mouth with a gentleness he didn’t know he could feel. “At least we’re still breathing,” he said as she smiled up at him. “We could have killed each other, you know.”
Jessica caressed his cheek. “But now you’re no use to me for at least an hour,” she said, her tone teasing. Unafraid. Even daring.
Leaning over her, supporting himself on one elbow, Gideon located one end of the bow securing her corset, began slowly pulling on it to release it. “Not entirely.”
He began kissing her just at the top edge of the corset, and then inched his way down even as the laces were undone. He kissed her breasts, licked at them, paid special attention to her taut nipples until she moaned quietly and raised her hips.
He kneaded her breasts, trailed kisses along the soft flesh inside her arms, down the length of her rib cage. His tongue found and teased at her navel, and she made a small, shocked sound of pleasure. He pressed his palm against her lower belly, bringing her heat that seemed to melt her…and then slowly turned his hand so that he was inching his way closer to her center even as she opened herself for him.
But not yet.
He cupped her, but then brought his mouth to her inner thighs, the sweet skin behind her knees. He worshipped, he teased, her every soft whimper of pleasure and frustration enflaming him.
But not yet.
He was in control now, he could wait her out; he needed to see what she’d do when he’d driven her beyond her limits.
She moved her hands down to the vee of her thighs, pressed his hand more firmly against her, shifted on the bed so that she could dig her heels into the mattress. She tugged upward on the skin of her belly, as if she could bring him in better contact with the parts of her that had to be aching to be touched, stroked into bloom.
He obliged.
He slid two fingers inside her, brought his mouth down to her and kept it there until she began to convulse around him, a living pulse of pleasure, taken over the edge in a new way, a different way. Ah, and there were so many ways… .
Jessica attempted to sit up, blindly holding her arms out to him, clearly wanting to be held, needing to be held. He’d never understood that in a woman, why indeed anyone would have that need. Until now.
Gideon gathered her to him, her arms and legs once more locked behind his back as he buried himself, and perhaps his own past, deep inside her, clinging to her as she clung to him, the two of them riding out the storm, together.
When they collapsed against the pillows, Jessica didn’t comment that he would be of “no use to her” for a while. Which was probably a good thing, as Gideon couldn’t do much more than lie there as she picked crushed rose petals from his sweat-slick body before curling into him, resting her head on his shoulder.
He was going to have to learn to pace himself. If Trixie had been right and in another thirty years he would be happy most nights with his dogs, some brandy and a warm fire, at least he’d have that thirty years. He could only hope to tire out Jessica by that time, which he rather doubted would happen. But they’d work something out… .
He pressed a kiss against her hair and then closed his eyes, more than ready for sleep, and drifted away… .
“Your lordship?” There was a knock on the door. “Your lordship?”
Gideon raised his head a fraction. “Go. Away.”
“Yes, sir, your lordship,” Thorndyke answered. “I would do that, surely. But I can’t.”
Jessica stirred slightly but then only sighed and continued to sleep.
“Yes, Thorny, you can. You simply have to apply yourself. You managed to propel yourself here, now manage to get yourself gone.”
Jessica yawned and stretched. Rather like a cat, rubbing her body against him. Part of Gideon took notice and became interested. The other part wished his butler on the far side of the moon.
“What’s going on?” Jessica asked, the grace of a cat deserting her as she tried to prop herself up by pushing on her elbow, which then jabbed into his chest. “Who are you bullying?”
Gideon gave it up. “My butler. But don’t worry, I bully him all the time. Go back to sleep.”
She pushed her tangled hair away from her face, grumbling something about never sleeping without first braiding her hair or it turned into a rats’ nest. “What does he want? Is it morning? It can’t be morning, it’s too dark.”
The knock came again. “Your lordship? It’s the dowager duchess, sir. She’s sent a note.”
Now Gideon was awake. “Trixie?”
“Yes, sir. You’re to read it at once, sir.”
Gideon pushed back the covers and left the bed, using the near-to-guttering light from a few of the remaining lit candles to locate his breeches. “Slide it under the door. What bloody time is it?”
“Gone three, my lord. I’m so sorry, but the footman who brought it was most insistent. I’ll have the coach brought
