He paused again—why not build suspense?—and turned to beckon Isobel to step beside him.
She’d been smiling up at him, uncertain of what he would say, and now she blinked twice, looked to her mother, and then stepped forward. He clamped a hand around her waist.
“You lot,” he said, pointing to the crowd, “are the very first to be introduced to my new wife, Lady Isobel Beckett, the Duchess of Northumberland. We married recently in a private family ceremony, and it gives me great pleasure to announce our nuptials publicly tonight.”
His mother cleared her throat and whispered behind him.
“Oh yes,” he continued. “And we invite all of you... and ten of your closest friends... to a more formal celebration of this happy news in coming weeks. Watch the post or for private messengers or homing pigeon or however it’s done for an invitation.”
And then, as a hundred stunned faces stared up at him, their eyes wide in unblinking shock, he raised a glass.
In the rear of the ballroom, someone started a rousing yell of, “Hip, hip, hooray! Hip, hip, hooray!”
It took two rounds before the crowd joined in, but then footmen descended with bubbling champagne flutes and the toast gained more momentum.
Jason couldn’t have cared less. He signaled the conductor to resume the music; he shot the drink in his own glass, swallowing it in one gulp.
He turned to Isobel. “Your Grace,” he said.
She fell into his arms, reaching up to grab him around his neck. Speaking softly against his skin, she repeatedhis own words from the heated pool the night of their betrothal.
“How do you want it?”
Jason made a growling noise and kissed her. He picked her up and whirled her around as a swarm of curious-eyed guests began queuing up to congratulate the happy couple.
She glanced at Jason, but he was already shaking his head:Absolutely not.He backed away, tucking her in front of him like a shield. His plan, it appeared, was to wind the two of them through the tightly packed orchestra to escape the crowd.
“Mama?” Isobel called, signaling her mother. Georgiana saw the problem immediately and stepped up, obscuring Jason and Isobel and asking the dowager to introduce her to “more of her lovely friends.”
Georgiana’s bright dress and brighter smile were an ideal interference, and Isobel pulled Jason from the bandstand. Moving quickly, eyes averted,laughing, they skirted the crowd, rounded the dance floor, and fled through the ballroom doors.
They didn’t stop until they reached the giant, curved staircase. Breathing hard, they mounted the stairs hand in hand and hit the landing at a run. Isobel’s hair broke loose and fell down her back. She kicked off first one shoe, and then the next.
When they reached the column that obscured the ground floor, Jason fell against it. Isobel continued on, but he gave her a yank, and she turned back. She was on his mouth in an instant, laughing as she kissed him.
He flattened himself against the marble, arms thrown back, allowing her to attack him. She came on like a swarm, grasping hands and swinging hair, stockinged feet climbing his body.
Isobel wanted his evening coatoff. She peeled her gloves and dug her fingers beneath the collar to roll away the heavy garment. He shoved up to allow it to fall to the floor. Without breaking the kiss, she attacked the buttons on his waistcoat, fingers working feverishly; it was the next piece to go.
He swore on a delighted hiss. “Damn, Isobel, I cannot keep pace.” He reached for the buttons that marched up the back of her gown.
She didn’t answer; her laughter faded away. She’d become so very focused. The culmination of weeks of wanting him suddenly felt near to bursting inside her. She slid his shirt from his trousers.
Jason groaned and picked her up by the bottom. She leapt up, straddling him, wrapping her legs around his waist. He shoved off the column and staggered on, not breaking the kiss.
“Where?” he gasped.
“Don’t care,” she panted, and it was true. He could take her to the laundry or the pantry or the potting shed. He could drop them to the rug and she wouldn’t have cared.
His insistence on the wedding, here, now—forher, not for esteem or pomp or customs—had ignited something elemental inside her. She was overwhelmed with love, swamped by it. She was swimming in her love for him. And she’d never been more urgently aroused in her life.
“Bedchamber,” he growled against her throat, staggering five more steps to fall against a thick oak door.
“Good—yes,” she panted. In the back of her mind, it occurred to her that she’d never made love in a proper bedchamber before. Another new thing. Everything about loving him felt so very new. Stronger passion, deeper love, greater trust—by farthe best technique.
And now a proper bedroom, with a proper marital bed.Another new thing.Her past experiences had been stolen or secret, on the fly, on the sly. Had she ever made love with the benefit of something as secure as a locked door? She couldn’t remember. She didn’t want to remember. She wanted only this.
Jason released her long enough to turn the knob. The door swung and they fell into the room. He kicked the door closed with his boot, and the strains of music and laughter were locked outside. The room was hushed except for their breathing.
