The Last Duchess (The Lennox Series)(84)

She was working up an inventory of the household with Hester, but seemed happy to accompany him. In fact, she thanked him a number of times, and exclaimed over the excellent state of the farms, of his obvious talent for management, and made comment of the tenants’ open admiration of him. She noticed every detail, from the state of the tenants’ cottages, all repaired, clean and sturdy, to the neat and orderly implement barn. He was astonished at her knowledge and answered her questions much as he would had they been asked by the steward, Mr. Pottinger. He had to remind himself she was his wife, that it was odd in the extreme, her interest and comprehension. She even made a few suggestions he found helpful.

At the end of rounds, which didn’t take more than the remainder of the morning because Beckinsale House was a very small estate, they took a picnic into the wilderness and walked almost an hour before he led her to the place he liked to imagine no one else knew of. It was not a stretch to believe, particularly because getting there required winding through a narrow, scarcely visible trail, cut between the encroaching vegetation. Eventually, they reached a tiny clearing, no larger than their bedchamber, enclosed completely by towering trees and thick undergrowth, its singular feature a huge boulder, hollowed out along one side, providing the illusion of a cave.

As he’d expected, Jane was enchanted. She spread their blanket beneath the boulder’s overhang and they ate their lunch with great relish, the long walk having built strong appetites. Afterward, he removed her clothing, released her hair from its long braid, and made slow, deliberate love to her with an audience of chirping birds. They slept a bit, then packed up the picnic and made their way to the lake. She was, of course, an apt pupil at rowing, laughing at her first, awkward attempts, then fiercely concentrating until she realized it was unnecessary to move half the lake with each stroke of her oars. Eventually, she gave over and declared her arms quite tired. He had removed his hat, coat and shirt, and she stared at him as he rowed, declaring him positively beautiful, there in the spring sunshine, his muscled arms shown to tremendous advantage. He set the oars, hauled her close and kissed her madly. They drifted for a while, until the sun was low in the west.

He docked the boat and they slowly made their way home.

They declined to dress for dinner and dined at one end of the table, well aware Clive was shocked, despite his jovial manner.

Bathing was equally as enjoyable as it had been the day before, as was bedtime. He moved down her body and took her with his mouth, almost laughing when she exclaimed, “You wicked man!” and then, “Don’t stop!”

It was not until they were wrapped up together and drifting off to sleep that he remembered his plan to have her removed to another bedroom. But he was tired after an energetic day and resolved to do so on the morrow. He kissed her forehead and went to sleep.

The following days fell into a similar pattern, a comfortable routine of early morning runs, estate business after breakfast, long walks and leisurely boating in the afternoons, and in between, at random moments, they made love to each other. It was always the same, yet always different. Sometimes they went at it very slowly, drawing their lovemaking out into a long, languorous, immensely gratifying experience. Other times, it didn’t seem they could come together quickly enough, occasionally tearing garments in their haste to couple. Every night, after they turned in, he introduced her to something different and she slowly became attuned to him, as he was to her. He couldn’t shock her, it seemed. Jane was like a child in some ways, always game for a new experience and additional knowledge of an activity she enjoyed. And there was no doubt Jane enjoyed lovemaking a great deal. One thing remained constant, and that was their mutual satisfaction. She never failed to respond, never came away dissatisfied and unfulfilled. As for himself, he couldn’t appease his need for her, his mind constantly entertaining possibilities, his imagination filled with her.

Every night, with her in his bed, their arms and legs tangled together as they fell asleep, he remembered he’d intended to have her removed from his room. And every night, he was too tired to worry about it.

On Friday, he took her into the village and they lunched at the Honking Goose, after which they stopped in some of the shops and she purchased a few baubles, along with gifts for her father and brothers. She purchased an embroidered handkerchief for Lucy and a set of knitted baby boots for Miriam. He suspected her purchases were more in the vein of supporting the local villagers than any true interest in shopping. Everything was done in a bit of a rush, her impatience evident to him by the tapping of her boot, although she was warm and courteous to everyone. She held herself as a duchess ought, with just the right combination of kindness and aristocratic demeanor. He remembered worrying she would embarrass him and was ashamed to have thought it. Jane was magnificent.