She pursed her lips. “Well, you have me there.”
And this time, it seemed his laconic responses halted her steady stream of questions.
He desired silence. So why did he feel a pang of regret when she folded her arms, closed her eyes, and shifted away from him—the loss, both physical and not.
He pulled out his watch fob and consulted the time. With their travel slowed by the conditions, they should have to stop at an inn along the way. Meanwhile, he would be shut away in this suddenly too-small carriage with his new wife’s lean, lithe frame and breasts made for sin.
A small sputtering snore slipped past her lips. Jasper tucked his timepiece away.
He sought the steady, slow rise and fall of her breaths. Except…he squinted in the dark…and grinned. “Are you feigning sleep, Katherine?”
She shook her head. “Er…No. That is.” Her lips settled into a mutinous line. She burrowed deeper into her corner.
He reached across the carriage and pulled Katherine onto his lap.
She squeaked. “Wh-what are you doing?” She wiggled back and forth.
Jasper groaned as his shaft leapt in response. “Be still.” Hoarse desire laced his command.
She stopped abruptly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Oh by all the saints, she truly was this innocent. He counted to ten.
Katherine shoved an elbow into his stomach, and he grunted. “Did you hear me, Jasper? I said I was sorry for hurting you.”
He closed his eyes, and again counted to ten. What manner of madness had possessed him to drag her delectably lush body atop his? Where nothing more than the thin threads of their garments separated his flesh from hers?#p#分页标题#e#
“Jasper…?”
“Bloody hell, I heard you.” Jasper took a deep breath, and gentled his tone. He opened his eyes, braced for the shocked hurt in her brown eyes. “Oomph.” All the air left him on a hiss, as she planted her fist into his stomach.
In the short span of time they’d been married, she’d delivered an impressive slap to his cheek, elbowed him in the side, and now planted him a jab Gentleman Jackson himself would have been proud of. He’d married quite the bloodthirsty wench.
Katherine squirmed in an apparent attempt to free herself. But her delicious movements only brought the sweet curve of her buttocks closer into contact with his rock-hard shaft. Had it been any other, more mature, more experienced woman, he’d believed her undulating movements intentional.
However, not even the Mad Duke of Bainbridge could mistake the fury flashing in his wife’s eyes as passion. In the event there was even the slightest bit of doubt, her next words killed all wonderings.
She jabbed a finger into his chest. “Let us be clear, Your Grace,” Ahh, so it was, Your Grace, now. “You are the one who denied us the generous wedding breakfast arranged by my mother. It is you who is determined to run off to your,” she held her hands up mockingly and deepened her voice. “Cold, dark, expansive castle.” Katherine pointed her eyes to the ceiling of the conveyance. “Cold, dark, and expansive,” she muttered, as if more to herself. “Who describes ones home in those terms?” She jabbed her finger again at his chest. “Furthermore, who would care to live in a home that is cold, dark, and expansive?”
Jasper opened his mouth but was silenced by her black glare. Goodness, with that reproachful stare, his wife could rival the sternest matron at Almack’s.
“And lest you forget, Your Grace, it is you who scooped me up and placed me on your lap.” She wiggled her rounded-buttocks upon his center, and his head fell back as he sent a silent prayer for patience skyward.
Alas, life should have well-taught him that there was no God, not even one to oversee such small favors. Katherine continued to squirm on his lap, and with a startled screech, toppled backwards.
The muslin fabric of her cape, and her satin skirts flew over her head.
“Bloody hell,” she cursed, and struggled on the floor of the carriage.
Jasper swallowed, knowing it was the height of ungentlemanly behavior to not immediately help her up, but he remained frozen at the sight of her flesh exposed to his hungry stare; the trim ankles, the lean, legs, and lush thighs that were meant to wrap around a man’s waist, urging him on…
He groaned.
Katherine batted at her fabric, and shoved it down into place, favoring Jasper with another scowl. “You’re groaning, Your Grace? It is I who is seated here upon the floor of the carriage.”
He leaned over her. “Need I point out, Your Grace,” Katherine’s brows dipped. “That you are the one who squirmed yourself free.”