“Yes, yes!” Her head thrashed against the bed.
He thrust inside her, once, twice, and again, his eyes sliding closed as he worked her core in time with his thrusts. Her body bowed, arching off the bed, her core drawing as tight as a fist and then finally, finally releasing with a rush of pleasure. “That’s it, Prue. Come for me, sweetheart.”
He urged her on as her body climbed higher, then higher still, until with a hoarse cry he followed her over the edge. “Ah, God, yes. So good, Prue.”
She fell back against the bed when the pleasure released her at last, dazed, and he came down on top of her, crooning to her as he stroked her damp hair back from her face. “You’re so beautiful, Prue.” He gave her a crooked grin that made her heart lurch in her chest. “I already want you again.”
She smiled and reached up to stroke his sweat-slick hair back from his face. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“No, you’re not, and neither am I. Never again.” He gathered her against him, urged her head down to his chest and pulled the blankets up over them. “Sleep, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Sleep.”
* * *
Jasper watched Prue come awake slowly some hours later, her eyelids fluttering over those glorious hazel eyes.
The minute she saw him she smiled, and it was like the sun coming out. He dragged his thumb over her lower lip, still swollen with his kisses. “You never opened your gift, Your Grace.” He nodded at the long, flat package on the table beside the bed. She’d left it behind when she’d gone to Montford Park, so he’d brought it with him from London.
She gave him a sleepy smile. “Another gift?”
“Another one?” He leaned down and kissed that smile, because he couldn’t resist. “I don’t believe I’ve ever given you a gift before, have I?”
“Yes, you did.” She rolled over, retrieved her discarded cloak from the floor, and rifled through the pockets, then held her palm out to show him. “You gave me these.”
He stared down at the pair of tiny pearls he’d slipped in the pocket of her cloak . . . well, it felt like ages ago. “I thought they’d gotten lost.”
“No. Just hidden for a little while.” Her gaze met his. “Why, Jasper? Why did you slip these into my pocket?”
“Because, I . . .” He cleared his throat. “I wanted you to have them.”
She searched his face. “Is that all?”
He toyed with a lock of her hair that had fallen against his chest. “Not exactly.” He glanced up at her, his cheeks heating. “You were meant to win the wager over billiards, so I could give your father his money back.”
“Meant to win?” She frowned. “You mean to say youtriedto lose that game?”
“Well, yes, but you sent all my schemes awry when you missed that shot!” He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “So, you see, it’s all your fault, Your Grace.”
“Why, that’s the most manipulative, wonderful, sweetest thing I’ve ever heard! You mean to say you were trying to give Thornewood back to me, all those weeks ago?”
Without warning, she threw herself into his arms, and he caught her with a grunt.
“So, you gave me pearls instead?”
“I gave you the pearls because I wanted you to have them, because they’re beautiful, and so are you, inside and out, Prue.” He kissed her hand again. “If you’d let me, I’d give you a pearl every day for the rest of our lives.”
“I don’t need pearls, Jasper. I just need you.” She reached out to trace his mouth, a small smile on her lips. “Is that what’s in this box, then? A pearl?”
He grinned. “Not exactly.”
“Jasper! That big box better not be filled with jewels.”
“Open it, and find out.” He reached for the package and set it on the bed between them, his heart pounding.
She bit her lip as she unsnapped the brass latches and raised the lid of the box. When she saw what lay inside the box, she slapped her hand over her mouth, her bright hazel eyes wide. “Oh,” she breathed. “Oh, Jasper. It’s . . . I can’t believe it.” She reached out a finger to stroke one of the pearls that studded the grip of the rapier nestled inside. “It’s so beautiful.”
“Deadly, too.” He dragged his thumb lightly over the edge of the blade, taking care not to cut himself. “As pretty as it is, it’s no toy, but a real rapier, for a real swordswoman.”
She tested the tip with her finger. “My, it certainly is. Does this mean I may go to Angelo’s without displeasing my high-handed husband?”
