That sterling woman made her entrance just then. Michael might have stared if he were not a gentleman. She was so similar in appearance to Mr. Osgood, it was uncanny. Her face was flushed, undoubtedly from the heat of the kitchen, her nose ended with a slight bulb, and her gray eyes sparkled with good cheer. The Osgoods were like bookends. She curtsied before him. “Your Grace, ‘tis an honor to have you visit with us, and your beautiful bride. Is there aught we might do to make Her Grace more comfortable?”
“I think not, thank you, Mrs. Osgood. She’s quite replete after sampling your fine cooking.”
The woman looked happy enough to begin clapping her hands. “Your Grace is too kind. I’m so pleased your duchess enjoyed my simple fare.”
“Oft times, simple is what’s wanted and needed, ma’am, and we much enjoyed it.”
“Oh, thank you! And please, express to Her Grace my felicitations on her marriage to such a fine gentleman.”
“I will do that, Mrs. Osgood.” He glanced toward the stairs. “Perhaps I’d best return and see to her.”
They exchanged a glance and beamed at him. “You’ve only to ring should you need anything at all, Your Grace.”
He decided they knew exactly what was to transpire in the room in the corner. He returned their smile and nodded his head before he turned for the stairs. Shouldn’t he feel some measure of discomfiture? Oddly, he did not. Even Mrs. Osgood’s giggle, quickly shushed by her husband, didn’t irk him in the slightest. On the contrary, he was grinning as he made his way down the hallway. He rapped once and opened the door when he heard her call out.
She was in bed. Naked. Looking at him boldly.
His grin remained.
“Your Grace is happy?”
“His Grace is supremely happy.” He strode to the bed, discarding his clothing as he went. “And I suspect His Grace is about to be even happier.”
“You mustn’t overset yourself.”
“Never fear, madam wife.” He bent his knee to the bed and stretched out beside her, reaching for her in the same movement, pulling her on top of him, plunging his hands into her hair to hold her head whilst he kissed her deeply. “You will not be afraid. You will touch me as I touch you. You will enjoy this.”
“Ducal edicts?”
“Leave the duke out of it. This is your husband speaking.”
She ducked her head and rolled away to the opposite side of the bed.
“Where are you going?”
“Just over here to see if you will follow.”
He turned until he was flush against her, snaking his arms around her to haul her close. “I will always follow, Jane.” Ah, she was light and life in his arms, and looking that much more at ease. His hope grew and he held her to his breast most tenderly. Her hair was soft and clean, her face freshly washed, her scent in the air. Lemons and female, with a dash of horse. A heady combination, and one he wouldn’t forget. He kissed her then, gently, carefully. Her lips were supple and soft beneath his. He stifled a groan when she slipped her tongue against his mouth, seeking entrance.
In what remained of rational thought, it occurred to him he’d never spent a terribly long time merely kissing a woman. He did so now, finding a great deal of satisfaction in the process of wooing her with naught but his lips and a gentle hand upon her back. Her full, soft breasts pressed against his chest, but he made no move to touch them, all of his concentration remaining on her mouth, intrigued by the sheer eroticism of her feel and taste.
She sighed and he felt her relax more completely, her body molding to his with intimate trust. Michael was a bit overwhelmed, his determination to please her somehow melding with his desire for her, neither overriding the other, despite their seemingly disparate objectives. His was a nature of all-consuming passion, taking a woman with his ultimate satisfaction uppermost in his mind. Her fulfillment was important, but he suspected it was merely for his own gratification, to enhance the experience of lovemaking.
In the corner bedchamber of the Red Lion Inn, he wanted to be selfless, to lead Jane back to where she began, unschooled, but eager. In the process, he discovered certain truths about his own need and was a trifle astounded. As he progressed in his effort to coax her passion to the fore, he found his own desire increased ten-fold. Had he ever wanted a woman this much? He didn’t think so. And yet, he was in no hurry to seek release, finding that he enjoyed what he ordinarily considered something of a chore.
Far from work, moving his hands across her soft, silky skin, touching her everywhere, returning to her lips again and again for deep, passionate kisses, served to inflame him with a slow burn that was as intriguing as it was gratifying. He shook with it, and when she looked into his eyes, her lids heavy with desire, and whispered, “Now, Michael. I’m ready,” he wondered that he’d ever considered himself learned of women. He was as unschooled as she, it seemed.