“We’re here?” Helen left the comfort of his arm to peer through the window.
“Pity your first glimpse of my home isn’t in daylight,” Jason said, “but you will see it tomorrow.”
“I shall get up very early.”
“I think not,” Jason said with a laugh in his voice.
Helen was glad of the poor light, sure her face was crimson. Fortunately, Mary was intent on gathering together the things she had brought with her.
The carriage lamps cast a small glow as the vehicle trundled along the drive through what appeared to be a large park.
“After this next turn, we shall see the house,” Jason said.
“I can’t wait,” she breathed. Even Mary pressed her nose to the window.
The warm summer air was drenched with sweet perfumes from the garden. The house came into view on a slight rise. Smaller than Walcott and newer than Cherrywood, the cream stone walls of the three-story dwelling were covered in a white flowering creeper, the long windows alight with candles. Golden light spilled from the open front doors onto the columned portico.
The tall, thin butler stepped forward. “Good evening, my lord.”
“Helen, meet Russell, my indispensable butler. He and a few of the staff have come from London to serve us.”
“Welcome, my lady.”
“Thank you, Russell.” Helen liked the look of the man who had a kind face. The first hurdle over, she asked if Mary could be introduced to the staff and then directed upstairs to her bedroom.
Russell bowed. “Certainly, Lady Peyton.”
“We shall dine in an hour, Russell. Please advise Cook.”
Jason took her hand and led her through the house. Drawing her along, her arm tucked in his, they walked from the gallery through the elegant blue drawing room and morning rooms to the dining room. He showed her, with some pride, his study, and the library, and they returned to climb the stairs to the bedrooms.
Jason opened the door to the master suite decorated in gold and royal blue and then led her through a sitting room to her own bedroom, charmingly decorated in lilac and yellow floral wallpaper. He gathered her into his arms.
His gaze was a soft caress. “Do you approve?”
“Of your beautiful home, yes, very much. Of you, very much indeed.”
“It’s your home, too, my sweet bride.”
At Mary’s knock on the door, he drew away regretfully. “I’ll leave you to change, my love.”
***
After dinner, they’d strolled in the perfumed, velvety night air until the time came for Helen to wait for him in her bedchamber. While Jason washed and cleaned his teeth, he cautioned himself to tread carefully tonight. He knew how to pleasure a woman and leave her satisfied. But his lovers were always experienced and knew how to take their own pleasure. Although Helen wasn’t technically a virgin, she might just as well be. He doubted she would have had more than a glimpse of an erect male, and never a naked one. And his body was already taut and eager to make love to her.
He must summon patience, to make sure she was comfortable and confident, her passions aroused.
Opening the door, he saw her propped up in bed, a welcoming, yet strained smile on her lips. He sat down on the bed in his dressing gown and raised her hand to his lips. “You look lovely with your hair down. That’s a pretty nightgown.”
She put a hand to her bosom, reminding him that she wore nothing beneath it. “Yes, isn’t it? White lawn and lace are always so…”
He undid buttons that hid her from him, planning to purchase her some nightgowns. Something filmier, less opaque. Red perhaps, Helen would look wonderful in red. Parting the ruffles, he leaned forward and kissed the throbbing pulse at the base of her throat. After her bath, her skin was dewy and warm and petal soft. She smelled of roses.
“I want you so much,” he murmured.
“Shall we snuff out the candles?”
Jason was not about to let her hide from him. They must deal with her past here and now.
