Chapter Twenty-One
October 9, 1818
It had been a month since Caroline had married John. Now, she stood flushed and incredibly happy, for she’d married him a second time earlier that day, and the two experiences couldn’t have been more different. The first time had given her freedom, but the second! Oh, the second time had given her love, and it was as if all the dreams she’d ever had as a lonely young woman hidden away in the asylum were finally coming true.
She couldn’t stop smiling as he escorted her into Hadleigh House. As they handed over their outer garments to the butler, it scarcely felt as if her feet touched the floor. They’d had the ceremony at Cousin Finn’s townhouse as well as the breakfast following—since Cousin Brand had been advised to rest as much as he could following his gunshot wound—and the atmosphere had been one of jubilation and celebration instead of the concern and speculation of the first. Now they’d planned to complete her packing, for on the morrow, she and John would accompany Brand on schooner and would travel to Ipswich.
“It was fun marrying you again.” Today, she’d worn the old, tarnished tiara her mother had given her long ago. She didn’t mind how it looked; it was a piece of her she’d been too angry back then to appreciate. Over the course of the time between professing her love for John until today, she’d made peace with her family, both in person and in her mind to the people who had died. That simple act of forgiveness had further set her free. She didn’t have to forget—those memories as well as her time spent at the asylum wouldn’t soon leave her alone—but she didn’t need to continue wearing them as a heavy mantle of anger and fury about her shoulders.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He paused at the foot of the staircase in order to nuzzle her neck. “Hadleigh told me as we were leaving that he and Sarah have a social engagement that will keep them away from the house until dinner.”
Awareness of him danced along her skin as it did each time he touched her. “Did you wish to converse with them?”
“No, sweeting.” John dragged his lips to the spot behind her ear that had the power to drive her mad with sensation. “We could use the privacy to consummate this second marriage. Wasn’t that one of your requests should we have another ceremony?”
“Yes.” Anticipation buzzed at the base of her spine.
“And as much as I adore that shimmering navy gown, I can’t wait to take it off you, do wicked things to you in an effort to show you how much I love you,” he whispered, and the warmth of his breath skated over her cheek. “Would you like that?”
“Must you ask?” She met his gaze, offered him the ready grin that felt as if it hadn’t left her since that night on the bridge over the Serpentine. “I wanting you will never stop, John.”
“It’s always good to hear, though.” Without warning, he scooped her up into his arms. The folds of her pretty gown draped over them as he climbed the stairs. “Ah, Caroline, we are going to have such fun together. I can’t wait to show you everything Ipswich has to offer.”
As much as she longed to paint the sea, watch the sun as it set upon that vast expanse of water, for the moment, her mind was overtaken by her husband, and all she wished to do was luxuriate in the safety and protection found in his embrace, surrender to his lovemaking in the hopes he’d make her fly again.
“Right now, I only want you.” Since the night on the bridge, they hadn’t come together carnally, mostly out of exhaustion and healing, but there had also been much to occupy their time with packing, seeing John’s father off, as well as a host of other things.
His chuckle reverberated in her chest. “I don’t intend to go anywhere.” Then he balanced her in one arm while manipulating the door handle to her rooms with the other. After pushing open the panel with a foot, he carried her over the threshold and let her slide down his body until her feet rested on the floor.
Caroline reached around him to close the door. “Good. Life would be exceedingly debutante without you.” Heat jumped into her cheeks when he flashed her a look of confusion. “I meant dull.”
“I love you.” He framed her head with his big hands. Then he brushed his lips over hers in a tender kiss. “Don’t ever change. Not one tiny bit.”
Perfectly happy not to commune with him in words, she gave herself up to the embrace. The scrape of his barely there stubble against her neck when he dragged his lips along the column of her throat provoked delicious shivers down her spine. The touch of his fingers at her waist, her ribcage, the sides of her breasts as he explored had flutters filling her belly. Perhaps she was insane after all, for wanting this man—needing him—as much as she did wasn’t a good thing.
Was it folly to have so much happiness invested in another person that she wished to cry from gladness because he was here?
In the end, Caroline didn’t think so. She’d been so starved for love and understanding the bulk of her life that when it had finally come along, she grasped it with both hands and hung on tight. Because of John, her true existence had begun; due to her husband’s faithful patience and courage, her future now stretched before her in an array of brilliant color like an oil painting, each one brighter than the last instead of being splashed with shades of gray.
He led her over the floor, with her retreating and him advancing, and with each step, each nip and nibble and play of their lips, he encouraged the tiny buttons from their holes at the back of her gown. By the time they reached the bed, the garment gaped about her breasts and shoulders. It took little effort—one clever tug really—and he had the gown pooling at her feet in a heap of navy silk and sparkling beadwork.
Not to let him have all the fun, she worked at the knot of his cravat. It soon gave away and she slipped it from around his neck. The length of lawn fluttered to the Aubusson carpet, quickly followed by his cuffs and collars. Oh, the scent of him was heavenly! Salt, sand, and the sea, they all teased her nose until she was nearly drunk on him. Her fingers fumbled at the silver buttons on his jacket, but with a giggle, she managed to finish her task.
“I need to see you,” Caroline said while she shoved the garment from his broad shoulders.
“Patience, love. There is an art to this.” After he’d divested himself of the jacket, his waistcoat followed, and finally his shirt. “Do you want me to stop here, or would you like me fully nude?” That cheeky grin of his said he already knew the answer.
“Clothes, all the way off.” Not able to wait for him to comply, she reached for him, but he edged away. “John.” There was a decided whine in her voice.
“When did you become managing?” Teasing lined his expression. “I’ll be with you in a thrice.”
Pouting, she removed her petticoat, then the stays once he’d manipulated the laces, and when she tugged the thin silk shift up and over her head, she let it dangle from a forefinger while he watched, apparently transfixed. “I’m waiting, husband.” But oh, he was beautiful standing there with desire and love mixing in his eyes as he looked his fill at her naked body. Heat prickled along her skin. Tremors of need pulsed between her thighs, and he stared with one boot on and one off. Physical relations between them were still new. She barely knew how to ask for what she wanted him to do, so as her nipples tightened into hard, pebbled points and her breasts ached for attention, it was only natural for her to touch them herself, roll them, give one a light pinch. “Oh!” Shivers of pleasure edged down her spine, buried themselves deep into her core as she imagined it was John’s hands on her instead.
“Well, damn if that’s not the most erotic picture I’ve ever seen.” He completed the remainder of his undress with alacrity. “You never cease to amaze me, sweeting.”
One second, she reeled that a simple touch could begin such a cascade of feeling and then in the next second, she was lying on her back in the middle of her bed with John’s hard body over the top of hers, and he pressed feather-weighted kisses all over her face.
But she needed so much more than that!