He frowned, seeming to consider his words. “The first time may not be entirely comfortable for you.”
“Why not? Is it because of our difference in size?”
“God no. It isn’t . . . That is, it shouldn’t . . .” A red flush crept up his neck, barely visible in the glow of the oil lamp. “What I’m trying to say is . . . I’m going to be careful with you. Gentle. You know that, don’t you? I wouldn’t hurt you for the world.”
Some of the tension eased in Julia’s limbs. “I know,” she said. “I trust you.”
It was the right thing to say. A tacit permission for Jasper to take charge.
And he did.
He gathered her close and kissed her again. He kept kissing her, kept touching her, until she forgot her shyness. Forgot her concerns about his past and her worries about the future. Until she was warm and pliant in his arms.
By the time they were both unclothed and he’d taken her to their bed, her body was awash with passionate sensation. Any discomfort was fast replaced by a feeling of infinite closeness. As if they shared the same breath, the same heartbeat. He had become a part of her.
It wasn’t at all unpleasant. It wasn’t entirely comfortable, either. It was raw and elemental—a moment so powerful in its connection it made tears smart in her eyes.
Never in her life had she been so vulnerable with another person. So totally open and exposed. And Jasper was there with her all the way, just as vulnerable as she was, and as much in need of tender reassurance.
She gave it to him instinctively. Kissing him, holding him, and cradling his big body with her own.
A long while later, as they lay sated in each other’s arms. Julia could think of nothing to say that would do the experience justice.
Jasper had no such difficulty. “I love you.”
Her gaze jerked to his in the waning light. “What?”
“I said that I love you,” he repeated. “You’re not obliged to say it back.”
Emotion closed her throat. She swallowed hard. “Jasper—” She felt him flinch.
Drat it. She’d forgotten his unaccountable dislike of his Christian name.
It was a pity. In that moment, it felt right to call him Jasper. What could be more intimate? More personal? A name was important. She’d told him that herself.
“I realize you aren’t ready,” he said. “How can you be, given what you’ve learned of my past? But I want you to know, despite your reticence . . .” He smoothed a damp strand of hair back from her face. “You have my hear t, utterly.”
If she hadn’t already been aglow from his lovemaking, his words would have made her so. “Did I seem reticent?”
“No, you didn’t. But physical passion is easy. Love is something else altogether.”
“‘An ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken,’” she quoted to him from one of her favorite of Shakespeare’s sonnets. “Yes, I know what love is.”
“From personal experience?” He asked the question casually. Too casually.
“No, indeed. I’ve never been in love before. I’ve only ever imagined it.”
“What did you imagine?”
“Little things. Flowers and chocolates. A gentleman sending me a Valentine or writing me a poem.”
“A poem.”
“You don’t like poetry?”
“Enough to know I shouldn’t be writing it myself.”
Julia smiled as she settled back into his arms. He gathered her close, resting his chin on her head.
In that moment, she could easily believe herself in love with him.
She was tempted to tell him so, not only for her own sake, but for his. She didn’t like him to think he was unworthy, or that she was punishing him for his past.
But she didn’t tell him.
The truth was, she didn’t know what she felt.
Lying with him this way, twined in his arms, her emotions were as tangled as their limbs.
And worse.
She couldn’t help but think that he’d lain this way before, with Dolly Carvel. And not only once, but many, many times.
A depressing recollection. It threatened to eat away at the edges of Julia’s happiness. She refused to let it. No matter Jasper’s past, in this moment, he belonged to her.
* * *
Julia awoke sometime later to the mattress creaking as Jasper climbed out of bed. When he didn’t return, she sat up, pushing her hair from her eyes. The room was cold and dark, raising gooseflesh on her naked skin.
Good gracious. She wasn’t wearing a nightgown.
A rush of self-consciousness had her pulling the coverlet over her bosom. “What time is it?”
“Nearly midnight.” Jasper stood from lighting the fire. The flames caught quickly, illuminating him in the darkness. He was in his dressing gown, his black hair disheveled. “This room gets a fearful draft when the weather turns. I didn’t wish you to be cold.”
“I wouldn’t be cold if you hadn’t got up,” she said. “Come back to bed.”
“In a moment.” He crossed the room to where his coat was draped over the back of a chair. Reaching into an interior pocket, he withdrew a thickly stuffed envelope. “In all the excitement of the evening, I completely forgot. I have a letter for you.”
“From the solicitor?”
He returned to their bed. “From Lady Anne.”
“Anne has written?” Julia was wide awake now. She took the envelope from him.
Jasper lit their bedside oil lamp. “It was waiting at the post office. It appears to have been misdirected at first.”
Julia examined the envelope. It was postmarked from London, not two days after they’d wed. “She must have written immediately on hearing the news of our marriage.”
Which meant Anne had sent it before receiving Julia’s own letter.
A glimmer of anxiety made her hesitate before breaking the seal. Anne wasn’t above scolding her, and in the most severe terms if she felt they were warranted. As excited as Julia was to hear from her friend, she didn’t relish the thought of Anne’s rebuke.
Jasper climbed in bed beside her. He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. “Go ahead and read it. I don’t mind.”
“I suppose I may as well.” Securing the bedsheet more firmly under her arms, Julia opened the letter and began to read.