And he hated that regret.
Jack tucked himself back into his trousers and smalls, then buttoned up the fall. He rose from the chair with grim intent.
“You did not seem to think me a scoundrel a few minutes ago,” he could not resist observing.
If she thought she could blithely act as if they had not just made love, she was wrong. If she thought he was done fighting for her, she was also wrong. He would fight for her forever. He had been waging war in all the wrong ways. But he knew the difference now.
He was back, and he was not going anywhere.
“It was a mistake,” she said coldly, still struggling to work her corset back into place. “I feared something had happened to you, and in my emotional state, I lost my wits. As I said, it shall not happen again.”
Oh yes it shall, he promised her back silently.
Aloud, he said, “Allow me to aid you.”
The violence of their passion had left her corset’s strings gaping. If she had a hope or a prayer of getting the buttons on that indecently form-fitting habit to close, she needed to be tight-laced once more. She would have to set aside her pride.
“I do not want your help, Jack.” She cast him a frown over her shoulder. “You have done enough damage.”
He inclined his head. “So I have, and so I will be the one to fix it. Unless you do not trust yourself, that is?”
Her pride won out. Her lips pursed. “Go on, then. Lace my corset back up if you please. It is devilishly difficult to get wet garments back into place. Do not mistake my request, however. Just because I allowed my baser nature to overcome my judgment does not mean I will ever again be so foolish.”
He approached her, attempting to tamp down the ire rising within him. Their union had been explosive. It had been one of the single, most erotic moments of his life. Losing his calm now would not aid his cause.
Some of her hair had come free of its pins, sending fat curls to trail down her neck. He stroked one away from her nape, gratified when she jolted at the contact. There was that connection she sought to ignore. There was that spark, ready to burst back into insurmountable flame.
Her skin there was soft. How he longed to place his lips there. To deliver a little love bite to the curve where her shoulder met her throat. He did not. Instead, he allowed his fingertips to trail down her bare skin. Just one slow, decadent caress.
She shivered. “Cease pawing at me and lace my corset, if you please.”
Belatedly, he realized the storm had quieted. The thunder rolled farther in the distance, and the skies had brightened. Birds had begun to sing once more, trilling brightly. It was as if the passionate moments he had shared with Nell had never happened at all. No evidence remained save the state of her riding habit and corset.
“Patience, Nellie,” he said softly, going to work at last on her laces.
He began at the top, plucking his way down her spine, cinching them tight. She straightened her back, inhaling. As he reached the base of her corset, just over her delectable rump, it took every modicum of restraint he possessed from telling the laces to go to Hades and cupping her bottom. His wife possessed the most luscious curves.
“I have nothing but patience for you,” she told him, rather frostily.
He retied the laces, then aided her in pulling up the damp fabric of her bodice. “On the contrary, my dearest wife. I think you do not have enough.”
“You are fortunate I have any at all.” Her voice was tart as she pushed her arms through her sleeves. “I owe you nothing.”
In her haste, she had skipped a button on her habit, leaving the high-necked collar woefully askew. He moved forward, taking command of the buttons, sliding them from their moorings.
“What do you think you are doing?” she demanded, swatting at his hands. “You have no right to touch me with such familiarity.”
“In fact, I do.” He met her gaze, pausing when he reached the skipped button. “You are my wife, and in the eyes of the law, I am perfectly within my rights to touch you whenever I wish. To require my conjugal rights from you as well.”
Her eyes flared, her entire body stiffening. “The law does not make it right. I am not yours any longer, Jack. Not truly.”
“You willalwaysbe mine, Nellie,” he told her. “Whether you like it or not. But you need not fret. I am helping you. What a poor lady’s maid you would make. You skipped a button. Imagine how it would look, the two of us returning to Needham Hall with your riding habit misaligned, obviously having been undone and then buttoned once more in haste. What wouldTomsay, should word reach him, hmm? I cannot imagine he would be as eager to wed you if he believed you fucked me in the midst of a thunderstorm.”
Her mouth tightened. “Is that a threat, Needham?”
Ah, so he was no longerJack.
Perhaps he had pushed his termagant wife too far. Just as well, for she had certainly done the same to him. “Of course not, wife. Here is not a threat but a promise: I aim to keep you. You are my wife, and if you think I am not going to fight with everything in me to win you back, to have you at my side where you belong, then you do not know me at all. You will be mine, but not through coercion or threats. You will be mine because what just happened between us was undeniable. You know it. I know it.”
