All the lightness of their dance in the rain had vanished thanks to his cloddish misstep. He would have to revive it. Somehow. Inspiration came swiftly.
There was a raindrop upon the fullness of her lower lip. He lowered his head and pressed his mouth to hers, stealing that drop. He cupped her face in his hands, taking his time, showing her with his lips how he would worship her. Gently at first, then deeper.
She opened to him, their tongues mating. She tasted like the cake they had eaten at the wedding breakfast: orange sweetness. And she smelled like it too, only with familiar, floral notes that made his cock pitch a tent in his trousers. He groaned, angling her head, kissing her harder. He would make her forget all about thoughts of other women or his storied past. Today was not about any of that.
It was about Decker and Jo.
It was about him claiming her at bloody last.
And tomorrow? whispered an insidious voice deep within him.
Would he be tired of her? Would he have her once and never want her again, just as he had all the rest? The thought sent a pang of regret cutting swiftly through him, but he banished it.
No time for worrying about what came after. They were bound to each other now. Nothing and no one—not even the Earl of Ravenscroft—could keep him from making love to her.
Jo’s small hands settled on his cheeks, cupping his face, holding him to her. Such a ferocious woman. She had learned how to kiss over the course of their sinful interludes, and he was grateful for it. An apt pupil, his lady wife. He had far more to teach her.
But first, their mouths were uniting. With other lovers, he had never taken so much time to woo or to savor—not since Nora. One time this evening was quite enough, thank you very much. And also, thank Christ Jo was nothing like her.
Jo was…herself.
A revelation.
She was the majestic beauty of late spring’s promise realized. She was glorious blossoms and lush verdant grass and golden sun and delicious warmth after the dearth of cold, hideous winter.
He gentled the kiss, reminding himself she was also a novice. His seduction of her had to proceed slowly, and with care. His lady may possess a wicked curiosity and a passionate nature, but she was also inexperienced.
Decker lifted his head at last, dismayed to find his heart pounding.
When was the last time a kiss had left him thus? He could not recall as he took her in a tender grasp and raised her hands to his lips for a reverent kiss on her knuckles. Even this part of her was somehow beautiful. Had he taken note of a woman’s knuckles before? Decker thought not.
“I dare say I must get you out of your wet gown before you take a chill, my lady,” he said, deciding to test her boundaries. “What manner of lady’s maid would I be if I allowed you to remain in these soaked garments a moment longer?”
Her kiss-stung lips were open, and her breaths were as ragged as his. “You are hardly a lady’s maid.”
He kissed the tops of her hands. “But of course I am. I am a humble servant, here to tend to my mistress.” Decker turned her hands over, revealing the pale skin of her wrists, the delicate tracery of blue veins there. “How may I be of service to you, milady?” He kissed the velvet-soft flesh he had exposed. Once, twice. “You must be soaked to the skin.”
And, he hoped, elsewhere also.
He swallowed against another rush of lust, meeting her gaze.
The gold in her eyes seemed more vibrant, her lashes thicker, her pupils wide onyx discs that gave her away.
“Yes, I am quite drenched,” she said, her voice low and throaty. Sultry.
Ah, hell. He was once more thinking of where else she was drenched. Thinking of at last stroking her slit, parting her folds…
He raised his head, knowing he played a dangerous game. “Turn, my lady. Allow me to make you more comfortable.”
She did as he asked, presenting him with the endless line of buttons on her gown. She had looked incredible in it, and when he had spoken his vows to her earlier in the church, he had been blasted with an incredible burst of pride that she was his.
Not just a lady, an earl’s sister, a woman who had been born with all the legitimacy which had been denied him by his sire, but Lady