Jo herself—quiet elegance, humble sophistication. She was not a raucous beauty. She was not the storm; she was the calm that came after it, when the birds sang once more and the rainbow arched over the shattered land.
He swallowed yet another surge of emotion that was entirely unwanted. Hell, emotions? He was being disgustingly maudlin and quite unlike himself.
His fingers were on her buttons now, and to his further dismay, he realized his hands were trembling. There was something sacred about this moment. He could not shake the feeling. He wanted to worship her. He was terrified of her. He needed her.
Best to bury himself in pleasure, as he had learned a long time ago.
Decker kissed her crown, inhaling the scent of her luscious, wet locks. Her coiffure was next to be undone. The rains had already done their part at dismantling the perfection she had presented for their wedding. He preferred her this way, however, rain-soaked and wild, rather than the poised lady he had wed.
He kissed her ear next, running his tongue along the whorls there whilst his fingers played over the buttons, freeing them. Ten down and about a hundred of the little stubborn blighters to go.
Jo held herself stiffly and still as her husband unhooked the buttons on her gown. As his lips caressed her ear, his tongue darting out to lap against her skin and incite those same flames of desire she had come to know all too well ever since she had been summoned to his office that day by his note telling her he had something of hers.
And now she knew he had something else of hers in his possession. Something far more important than the list.
Her heart.
But she would not divulge that secret now. For now, she would live in the moment.
How strange it felt to be a wife. Or, more precisely, to be Decker’s wife. To be married to the enigma at her back, the man whose tongue was flicking behind her ear, finding a new way to drive her to distraction.
But even as his mouth and tongue worked over her, his hands never stopped. Those knowing fingers of his were moving, unhooking, sliding the buttons free of their moorings. The stiff silk bodice of her gown, adorned by roses and lace and pounds upon pounds of silver beads, gaped and slid down her arms, weighted by her damp skirts.
They had danced in the rain.
She had fallen beneath his spell even more as he had whirled her through his gardens in the rain. A Viennese waltz, just like the dance they had shared at Callie’s ball. He thought of everything. And then, his question—cream ice or kisses. How could she gird her heart against him when he insisted upon being so wonderful, so very much the opposite of every warning she had received from her loved ones?
Decker brought her mind back to the present when his teeth nipped her throat, and then his tongue followed, soothing the sting. Heat unfurled within her, landing between her thighs in a persistent, pulsing ache. She wanted him so much. Too much.
“You are quiet, my lady,” he observed against her neck. “Tell me how I may be of service to you. As your humble servant, it is my duty to see you satisfied.”
Jo did not mistake his words. Decker was toying with her, playing a role, pretending to be her lady’s maid. Did the pretense heighten his pleasure? She could not be certain. She was not even sure if it heightened her own pleasure. All she did know was that she was completely in his thrall. And she was going to play this game with him, see where it led them. For the first time in her life, she was free, truly, unutterably free.
What did she have to lose, when she had already lost everything else of consequence, aside from her maidenhead itself?
“My gown,” she said, catching her breath. “It is heavy and soaked. Please help me to take it off.”
“With pleasure, my lady,” he growled against her skin.
And then his fingers were moving with heightened fury, traveling down her spine. The tapes on her bustle went slack, and the entire dress, along with the wire and linen shaper beneath, fell to the floor in a rush. She was clad in nothing more than her corset, chemise, drawers, and stockings.
But he was already making short work of the knot and lacings on her corset. In the next breath, they were undone. Her undergarments were suddenly