The Valentine Legacy (Legacy 3)

But she hadn’t been at all eager to sit on him. She wasn’t stupid. Surely she could imagine what she’d have to do. A shy Jessie was something he hadn’t thought would plague him.

His ankle throbbed. The laudanum pulled on him, finally easing him into sleep, for which he was profoundly grateful.

Toward noon the following day, Badger arrived in a wagon loaded with enough food to feed the village of Tutleigh just to the south of Candlethorpe.

Instead of having her nose out of joint, Mrs. Catsdoor looked as if God himself had deigned to visit her. She exclaimed in delight, her hands pressed to her ample bosom, at all the dishes he’d prepared and brought to them. “Oh, Mr. Badger, if it isn’t an incredible ragout of ducks! Look at the onion sauce you’ve prepared to accompany it. Just smell that wonderful fresh basil. Ah, and black-currant pudding, one of Master James’s favorites. You’re so good, sir, a genius, a master, a—”

“Please, Mrs. Catsdoor,” the earl said, “Badger already runs the kitchen at Chase Park. I’d just as soon he didn’t proclaim himself master of the entire house.”

Badger allowed he had no real interest in running the entire house, although he just might have a few suggestions that Mr. Crittaker, the earl’s secretary, might look into. As for Mrs. Catsdoor’s praise, Badger took it in stride. When James hobbled into the entrance hall, he said, “I’ve brought something very special for you, James. A poultice that will shrink that ankle back to normal size within an hour. Dr. Raven is excellent at his bone mending and belly remedies, and relieving the ladies of their little plaguing ailments, but he knows nothing of brews to shrink swelling. Sit down, James. My lord, if you would please remove his boot so I can apply the poultice . . .”

The earl, arching a black eyebrow at his cook, complied, saying, “What I do for you, James . . . You’d best be very grateful.”

The smell of the thick yellow concoction was surprisingly sweet, like sugar mixed heavily with eggs and cream. James sat back, closed his eyes, and said, “When it’s been on my ankle for an hour, Badger, may I please have a spoon?”

23

JAMES LIMPED ONLY a bit the following morning, going so far as to help Badger place the remains of the Herculean meal he’d brought to Candlethorpe in the wagon and assisting the Duchess to mount her mare, kissing her hand as he grinned up at her, waiting to hear Marcus growl, as he did, saying he’d thump James into the mud once he had fully recovered.

He and Jessie waved at them until they disappeared from view around the fat beech tree at the end of the long drive. James rubbed his hands together. He was filled with energy, impatient to accomplish something, anything, and ready to make up for two lost days. He was surprised to find himself eyeing Jessie at the breakfast table like a wolf who hadn’t eaten for the entire winter.

She was chattering away, seemingly unaware of his ever-spiraling lust. He couldn’t wait much longer. He hurt with it. This was the something he wanted to accomplish more than anything in the world.

“. . . don’t you think we should have a pair of peacocks, then, James? I would like a Fred sort of peacock who’s always pinning his sweetheart to the house or to a tree so he can steal a peck.”

“Jessie, you may have fourteen peacocks if you wish. Just be quiet, finish your breakfast, and take care of me.”

“What do you want me to do?” She looked wicked, those red streamers of hers dangling down as she cocked her head to the side.

“You’ll see. Are you done yet?”

She tossed down her napkin, smiling at him. “Yes, all done.”

“Come along, then.”

She raced him to the master bedchamber, knowing he was trying his damndest to pull that injured foot faster, but of course she beat him. She stood in the middle of the vast room, watching him as he came in, slammed the door, and turned the key in the lock. “There,” he said, and turned to face her, his expression grim.

She fluttered her hands in front of her as if to ward him off. “Oh goodness, James. It’s morning! It’s not even raining and t

hus a bit dark. The sun is shining. You’re not thinking carnal thoughts, are you? Your poor ankle, isn’t it paining you something fierce?”

“Yes, you witch,” he said, cupping her face between his hands. “So what?”

She stared up at him, grinning like a woman who knew exactly what she was doing and knowing she was doing it well. He kissed her once and released her. “Jessie, you’re a tease. Glenda doesn’t even come in a close second compared to you. You’re wicked and you’re driving me over the edge. Now, you know very well that all I’ve thought about since Clothilde kicked me is stripping off that gown of yours, knowing you’re naked beneath, and kissing you until you yell and thump your heels on the mattress. Ah, that got you, didn’t it? You’re not quite as wicked as you thought just yet, are you? You’ve had no pleasure from me for two days now, and I’m determined that this morning you’ll moan until you’re nearly demented. No more teasing. Take off your clothes.”

Her heart was slamming against her ribs. She loved him. She didn’t care if he didn’t love her yet. He was watching her, and she felt the warmth and that strange urgency building deep inside her, low in her belly. That there could be something so pleasurable for human beings, it boggled the mind of a female who’d never before imagined such a thing. She’d always believed men to be wicked because they were deficient in honor. She was feeling more wicked than a man with three mistresses at the moment.

He wanted her. All the rest be damned. It was morning and he wanted her naked.

So be it. She shied away from him. Let him think she was embarrassed, that she was shy. Her fingers were shaking as she took off her clothes, and it had nothing to do with shyness. She stood in front of him until he pulled her against him and began to kiss her and caress her and finally to take her to bed. His hands were all over her. He caressed her breasts, molded his hands to her waist, tickled her navel with his tongue, parted her so gently with his fingers, and stared down at her—just stared for the longest time, and she nearly died with the excitement of it. She pushed up her hips. He laughed, leaned down quickly to kiss her lips, then set his mouth on her. She screamed.

And that was just the beginning. She couldn’t stop the moans, the marks she was making on his body. She was lost in the feelings he was whipping up in her, and she loved it. The old Jessie and the new Jessie—she didn’t know the difference. Who cared? Finally when she was breathing as if she’d run all the way to Chase Park and back, he came down over her and kissed her, his tongue deep in her mouth, and to her utter surprise, those strange feelings were swamping her again. Instinctively she lifted her hips for him. It was all he needed. He moved within her, but he wasn’t frenzied this time. He was controlled, and it drove her insane. She shouted his name, squeezing him as hard as she could, and she heard him laugh and moan.

James took his release, at last, his head hanging down, his breathing hard and raw. Finally, he managed to look up into her glazed eyes. “Damnation, Jessie, you’re going to kill me before I’m thirty.”

“Some promise,” she said, then squirmed until he was on his back and she was pressed against him, her head on his shoulder, her open palm on his belly. “You know,” she said, her breath warm against his flesh, “it was so beautiful, James. You made me feel like a star bursting in the heavens. You made me a woman, James. I’m fulfilled now, and ecstatically happy.”

He pushed her down onto her back again and began winding a streamer around his finger. “‘A star bursting in the heavens’? Is that what you said?”