The Valentine Legacy (Legacy 3)

“You must strive to remember that, James. The old Jessie didn’t have a peach satin chemise either.”

“I’m sorry I ripped it.”

“Mrs. Catsdoor said she’d mend it for me. She fancied I wasn’t too handy with a needle, seeing as how I was from the Colonies and lived with horses all my life. I told her I fancied you weren’t too good with a needle either, for the same reason. She tskd-tsked and patted my hand and said I needed guidance and she would provide it.”

“She’s right, but you’re young enough to learn.”

“Is he gone?”

“Yes, the baron’s gone. He’s an angry man, Jessie. I’m sorry he behaved as he did to you. On the other hand, what the devil were you doing swimming naked in the pond?”

It was a silly question, so she didn’t answer it. Instead, she finished polishing Selina’s hoof. As she rose, she ran her hands over Selina’s legs, her shoulders, and her withers and combed her mane with her fingers. “You’re beautiful now, my girl, more beautiful than I am, and I can’t run as fast as you can. Here’s a carrot for you. That’s right, don’t bite my fingers. Just nibble. That’s it.”

Jessie brushed off her skirt, knew she looked a mess, but she did have her streamers, soaked with sweat though they were. Nor was she wearing any pantalettes. She gave James a sideways glance.

“What does that look mean?”

“I’m not wearing any underwear,” she said, laughed, picked up her skirts, and ran, looking over her shoulder to see him standing as still as a fence post, staring after her.

21

“JAMES?”

“Hmmm?”

“Do many women die in childbirth?”

He stopped nuzzling her neck and leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes. “Yes, too many. But you won’t, Jessie, I swear it to you. I told you that after Alicia’s death, I read every book I could find on childbearing. I spoke at length with George Raven. Had he but been here when her time came, I doubt she would have died. Don’t worry.”

“Maybe I won’t get pregnant. Maybe I can’t since I’ve ridden horses all my life.”

“Where did you get that errant bit of nonsense? No, don’t tell me. It was your mother, right?”

“Yes. She said I had probably ruined my female parts.”

“You still had a maidenhead.”

“I did, didn’t I?” she said, sounding as pleased as Fred who’d probably cornered Clorinda again and stolen another peck. “Well, that’s a relief. Maybe everything else is in order as well. I hope so. I certainly like foals and Charles and Anthony.”

The thought of rending that small barrier made him tremble with lust. He could practically feel himself again as he’d shoved through it, so frantic with urgency that he’d nearly spilled his seed at that moment. He pulled her closer to his chest and began nuzzling her neck again. She was sitting on his lap in a large winged chair in the bedchamber. It was their bedchamber, he’d told her when they’d come up after dinner. She wasn’t to sleep alone in the adjoining room. He didn’t like that at all.

Jessie, who knew nothing about the proprieties of sleeping arrangements between husbands and wives, solemnly nodded. “I’d rather sleep with you. I’ve never slept with anyone before. It’s an adventure.” She wrinkled her forehead. “You know, James, I don’t think Papa and Mama sleep in the same bed.”

“You’re chattering again, Jessie.”

“Sorry. I’m nervous, James. I’m in my nightgown, and you don’t expect me to be wearing any pantalettes. You’re in your dressing gown, and I know you don’t have anything on beneath it. This is unnerving.”

He smiled as he kissed her hair again. He hugged her close to him as he said, “You’re right—this is unnerving. I never thought I’d want to do anything with you other than beat you on the racecourse. And now that I’ve untied that very pretty bow, I can slip my hand inside and touch your breast. Ah, you’re as soft as Selina’s belly, after you brushed her. You know, Jessie, I didn’t get to see all of you on the dining-room table today, just those important strategic parts. Let’s get that nightgown open.”

He untied three more bows and pushed the soft muslin apart. It parted all the way to her feet. He looked, nothing more, just looked, for a very long time. He lightly laid his hand on her hip, turned her toward him, and began kissing her. He was surprised and inordinately pleased when he felt her hands untying the sash of his dressing gown. “Yes,” he said into her warm mouth, “I want to feel your breasts against me. My God, Jessie, that’s incredible.”

It was, she thought, trembling now, those strange urgent feelings pulsing low in her belly, even when it was her breasts hard against his chest. She moved a bit, and they both moaned.

He laughed. He had to because, after all, he was the one with the experience here; he was the one who shouldn’t just fall apart and slaver all over her, baying like a hound at the moon, just because her she was brushing the hair on his chest.

“I like your legs,” he said, watching his brown hands stroke her white flesh, feeling the sleek muscles, admiring the long length of her legs.

“Thank you. May I see your legs, James?”