Lyons Gate

“I’ll drink to that,” Hallie said. “Father, I’ve never seen you swoon.”

Alec’s eyes met his future son-in-law’s. “It happens,” he said. “Believe me, it happens.”

Petrie moaned.

CHAPTER 33

Jason and Hallie Sherbrooke spent their wedding night under the distinctive curved eaves of the master bedchamber of Dunsmore House, Georgian in mood if not in style, set gracefully on a broad tree-covered promontory just outside Ventnor on the southeastern coast of the Isle of Wight, the summer residence of the duke of Portsmouth. After a two-hour steamboat ride from the mainland, they’d arrived at Dunsmore House, windblown and sunburned, smiling from ear to ear at the housekeeper, Mrs. Spooner, and ready to tear each other’s clothes off.

Once upon a time, Mrs. Spooner had been intimate with lust, having five grown children to show for it, and not to mention being three months shy of a half dozen grandchildren. She certainly recognized it when it stood in front of her, though she wasn’t certain which of the two had greater lust for the other. The simple beauty of this couple would warm the coldest heart, which hers wasn’t. “Well, now, His Grace told me you were two special young people and so you appear to be. Come in, come in. You’ll have the large bedchamber that looks out at the harbor and all the fishing boats. It’s Her Grace’s favorite bedchamber and the sheets are all fresh for you. What a fine day to begin your married life.”

Because she wanted them to eat, Mrs. Spooner herded them into the breakfast room, smaller and more intimate than the grand dining room, and quickly served them cold chicken and warm bread for di

Hallie gave her a blinding smile. “Yes, I certainly hope so.”

Mrs. Spooner patted her arm. “The duke and his family always like their privacy, and so you’ll have it too. Maids will come during the day, but they won’t bother you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Spooner. I’ve never had privacy before. I have three brothers and a sister and-” Hallie blinked and shrugged. She’d looked at Jason. “I forgot what I was going to say.”

“Well, this is your honeymoon, now isn’t it, Mrs. Sherbrooke? It’s not a time for brains.”

“Mrs. Sherbrooke,” Hallie repeated slowly, staring at Mrs. Spooner. “Isn’t this the oddest thing-from one day to the next I lost my name.”

“The new name-Sherbrooke-is charming, though I’m certain your father prefers Carrick, just as Mr. Spooner prefers his name over mine, which was equally unique.”

“What was your maiden name, Mrs. Spooner?”

“Why, I was Adelaide Bleak, certainly of a pessimistic bent, that name. Now. I’m thinking that the last thing you and Mr. Sherbrooke would want is tea served in the drawing room, so I’ll bid you good night.”

Hallie and Jason looked at each other. She said as she chewed on a buttered hunk of fresh bread, eyes nearly closed in bliss, “We’ve been married for seven hours now.”

“Yes.”

“Mrs. Spooner is very nice.”

“Yes. Are you through with your di

She gulped down the bread. “Yes. Oh yes, Jason. Do you know my aunt Arielle told me to let you take the lead, to try to restrain myself? She advised me against taking you to the floor. She assured me that men enjoyed that, but not at first. She blushed while she said this-I’ll tell you, that took me aback. She said men liked to be in control during the first romantic encounter, which is a good thing since they know more about the business-and she blushed again. I told my father her advice, and he laughed and laughed, told me he doubted you’d mind being jumped at any time, on the boat or on dry land or on a dining room table. Hmm. This table is very nice and long and-”

He was nearly shuddering himself out of his boots, his hands clenching and unclenching. It hurt him to say it, but he finally managed it. “No table tonight. Your father is right. You have my permission to jump me whenever the mood strikes you. I won’t ever mind.” He drew in a deep breath and Hallie would have sworn he shook a bit. “It’s going to be close.”

She wasn’t a fool. She knew what that look meant. It was delicious, that look; it made her heart race, her skin tingle. She raced from the small breakfast room, up the wide front stairs, down the corridor, to the large corner bedchamber. It was light and airy, not that she cared a whit, and she knew the furnishings were perfectly arranged-well, perhaps those two big chairs would be better pushed together and placed at the foot of the bed in case one was so tired one couldn’t make it all the way. She started to ask Jason what he thought about the chairs, but stopped cold.

Jason came into the bedchamber at that moment, closed the door, locked it, and leaned against it. “I left the house all those times because I wanted you so badly.”

“You what?”

“I visited other ladies, they took care of me, sent me home exhausted and back in control of myself, for a few days at least.”

“That’s quite the oddest thing I’ve ever heard. I wouldn’t have minded you kissing me, Jason, with or without your shirt. You’re telling me you went to other women because you thought I wouldn’t like it?”

“No, that’s not it at all. You’re a young lady, Hallie, a virgin, and a gentleman doesn’t seduce a young lady who’s also a virgin. But that’s over now. Don’t ever think I’m another Lord Renfrew. I’m now your husband. I will be faithful.”

“Were those other ladies enthusiastic? Like I was in the stable?”

“Well, yes, why wouldn’t they be? I’ve known all of them for years.”

“You don’t have all that many adult years, Jason.”

“A man gets started as soon as he’s able, Hallie. All the ladies are older than I am, not that it matters at all.”

“I have yet to get started.”

“I know.” He pushed off the locked door, pulling off his vest and cravat as he walked to her, then tossed them on the arm of a chair. So that was the purpose of the chairs being on the way to the bed. He paused a moment and pulled off his boots and socks. He never took his eyes off her.

“I can see that you’re uncertain about this now that we’ve reached the sticking point. It’s quite all right. Trust me. I’ll take care of everything.” He unbuttoned his shirt, shrugged out of it, let it fall to the carpet.

He was naked to the waist, just as he’d been that morning when her father had paid a surprise visit to the stables.

“Oh my.” She cleared her throat, tried again. “Do you know, I rather liked you all sweaty.”

“It’s a warm night. Perhaps I’ll sweat for you before it’s over. Perhaps you’ll sweat too.” He held his arms wide. “Take me down, Hallie.”

It was the longest jump she’d ever made in her life, true, but he took a step forward to catch her, settled her legs around his waist. She cupped his face between her palms and kissed him all over his face, until, laughing, he pressed her against a wall, and lifted his hand to cup her jaw. “Hold still,” he said, and kissed her, really kissed her, not nipping little bites, piddling little licks, but a deep kiss, one that blurred the world and made her legs slip. He cupped her bottom before she fell off him and carried her to the bed.

He gri

“No, let me do it.” She bounced to her feet and fell to her knees in front of him, her eyes on those buttons. Jason’s breath whooshed out of his lungs. His wife of now close to a third of a day was kneeling in front of him, her hands on his britches’ buttons, and she was kissing his belly.