Kasey Michaels - The Regency Redgraves - What an Earl Wants / What a Lady Needs / What a Gentleman Desires / What a Hero Dares

Everyone laughed, as they were hopefully meant to do, and Jessica gazed at her brother in real affection. He’d be all right, he truly would. They’d all be all right, in time. Because Gideon would see to it. She truly believed that.

WITH KATE YAWNING into her hand and Adam thoroughly in his cups and half-asleep in his chair, Gideon exchanged a meaningful glance with Richard, who immediately stood up, stretching and yawning and then quickly apologizing for his lapse.

“Quite a day for an old man like me, quite a day,” he said, smiling at Lady Katherine. “Would you do me the extreme favor of allowing me to escort you upstairs to your chamber, my lady?”

“What was that?” Adam stumbled to his feet, blinking. “I can do that. I’ve always wanted to escort a lady to her bedchamber, damned if I haven’t.”

“Adam!” Jessica exclaimed from her seat beside Gideon. “You really must learn to not say everything you think!”

“He thinks?” Gideon asked quietly, eying the curls at Jessica’s shoulders, the ones he’d been manfully resisting wrapping around his finger this past hour or more. But it hadn’t been easy goings. “It is rather late, Richard, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes, my lord. After a long day,” he added helpfully, and then winced as the mantel clock struck ten. Many carriages were just now leaving Portman Square, for an evening round of parties. “All things considered, that is.”

“You’re all as subtle as a sharp jab to the ribs,” Lady Katherine said, but then held out her hand to Richard, to allow him to help her to rise. “I held out as long as I could, as I’d like to think part of my mission in life is harassing you and Max and Val, Gideon, but I will admit I’m more than ready for my bed.” She looked to Richard and Adam. “And I would greatly appreciate both you fine gentlemen accompanying me upstairs. To my door,” she added, shooting Adam an amused look.

“We’ll all go up,” Gideon said, holding out his hand to Jessica. He wouldn’t look at her, because she might smile at him, and if she gave him one more ounce of encouragement he might just take her here and now, on the couch.

The way she looked at him from beneath her lush lashes, the way she held her spoon as she sipped her soup, her endearing habit of touching her hand to the middle of her breasts as she leaned forward to listen to the conversation. He’d even envied her serviette as she’d dabbed the fine linen against her lips.

It hadn’t been her fault. He knew that. She’d done nothing out of the ordinary. She hadn’t purposely teased him. She had only to breathe to make him want her.

Ten days. Who knew ten days could be so long a time? He’d given Gwen her congé , even introduced her to Freddie Banks, who much to Gwen’s delight immediately offered her his protection. He’d harassed a modiste and her dozen seamstresses like a man possessed. He’d petitioned the church for a Special License, pretended not to know his grandmother’s favored way to secure, well, favors. He’d paced the floor each night, he’d counted the hours each day. He’d stared at the locked door between his and Jessica’s bedchambers and suffered the torments of the damned.

And all for a woman he barely knew. A woman who was now his wife.

He’d wanted her. In the beginning, it had been that simple. Because what he wanted, he took. Had always taken. He’d never seen any reason to deny himself anything.

But he’d never wanted anything the way he wanted Jessica.

And now he had her.

They entered her bedchamber together, his hand at the back of her waist. He turned and closed the door. Turned the key.

They moved farther into the large chamber, to see it was subtly lit with candles and the light from a small fire, the curtains on the four-poster bed tied back on one side, draping the other three. The coverlet was turned down, a confection of ivory lace rather artfully arranged atop it.

He couldn’t believe he wasn’t seeing a scene welllaid for seduction.

He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Where are your women?”

“I dismissed them for the night.”

He cocked his head to one side. “You did? And why was that?”

“I don’t know. The note I found this morning. The new clothing, the necklace…all of it. I had…hopes,” she said, and then stepped closer, raising her hands to his neck cloth, deftly beginning to undo it. He decided to help, quickly dealing with the buttons on his waistcoat and shirt.

His smile brought a hint of color to her cheeks. “You had two eyes in your head when you saw yourself in this gown, and knew I couldn’t see you tonight and then simply walk away.”

“So now you know how I feel, every time I look at you. It was only the once…but I can’t forget it. How you made me feel. I hadn’t felt anything, Gideon, not in a very long time. But this was new, what you made me feel. I wanted…I want to know if it was real, what I felt. I want to know if there’s even more. Is that wrong? Please tell me it’s not wrong.”

He was already straining almost painfully against the fabric of his pantaloons. “I want to be inside you so badly.” His hands went to her back, seeking out the row of buttons, dispatching them quickly. “I want to make you mine. But I don’t want to rush you… .”

“I may already be ahead of you,” she told him breathlessly, tugging his shirt free of his waistband as she began backing toward the bed. “Let’s don’t talk anymore, Gideon, please?”

He picked her up at the waist, her arms going around his neck, and continued on toward the bed, smiling as he saw the pink rose petals strewn across the sheets. He hadn’t been overly enthusiastic about Jessica’s request Mildred and Doreen act as her ladies’ maids, but now he believed they were both wildly underpaid.

He put Jessica down and quickly finished the job of ridding her of the dusky-rose gown, leaving her clad in an ivory lace corset laced in front with pink satin ribbons. The corset was purely ornamental, not fashioned for any other purpose than the joy he’d find once he’d slid open the laces to touch the treasure beneath.

For now, however, it could stay where it was, softly molding and raising her perfect breasts. The French drawers, however, had to go.

They went.

The silk stockings stayed. The necklace stayed. The golden circlet of diamonds remained on her left hand. The pins, and there were blessedly few of them, submitted to his search, and her glorious red hair was free, tumbling, enticing.

There was no time for his evening coat; it was too well fitted, for one thing. Jessica, bless her, had already managed to undo the buttons of his pantaloons. He was so ready to explode, no more than a few deep hard strokes from bursting. Reciting lines from Paradise Lost in his head wouldn’t help him now. He couldn’t even remember the damn words.

He hadn’t felt this way since…No. He’d never felt this way. Never.

She slipped her hands inside his opened shirt, and his skin felt scalded by her touch. With a low groan of need, he lifted her onto the edge of the bed and spread her thighs, pulling her legs around his back even as he plunged into her, knowing she was ready for him.

“Yes! Gideon—yes!”

Yes , his mind echoed as he drove into her. Yes, yes , yes!

And then it was over. But it wasn’t over. The long days and nights of unbearable need had been addressed, but not the want . Because he would want her for the rest of his life.

He laid her back on the rose petal-strewn sheets, lifting her legs onto the coverlet, and smiled down at her. She looked unfocused, lost in a dream, her limbs loose, her hair spread out on the pillows like a living thing. He’d done that. Him . He would banish her past. He’d chase away every last shadow. He felt allpower-ful. She made him all-powerful.