“Oh, simply a chart of progression. It is always difficult to accurately number every part of the process after a result has been unexpectedly obtained.”
He didn’t know what she was talking about but it was better than him having to explain the reasons he’d gone to the duke’s dinner. “Let me help, then. Talk through the stages and we’ll number them together.”
“Hmm. Yes, you would offer the best assistance in this particular matter. Sometimes you know my thoughts better than I do.” Distracted from her interrogation, she studied the page in earnest. “Now, I do not believe it began in the brothel; however, I cannot discount the initial spark of interest. This, as you know, led me to study your person in such depth as to scrutinize your brown thread.”
He felt his brow pucker in bemusement and he chuckled, still ignorant of her topic. “Yes, I recall the moment.”
“Then later in your bedchamber,” she continued, “there were those instances when you were attempting to shock me. I admit, I had been shocked. But, more importantly, I had felt another spark. At the time, I’d passed it off as mere curiosity. Until I saw your books. Then I felt something else that I could not define. It was only later that I gave it a label of admiration.”
“Admiration,” he parroted, feeling the warmth from the stove blanket him.
“I’ve always admired you for creating a life out of nothing and pushing through every obstacle in your path. You’re quite an exceptional man.”
He stared down at her profile and knew that it wasn’t the fire making him warm.
The tip of her finger absently drifted over her notes. “Seeing all your positive qualities, here on the page—not to mention how those sparks of interest turned into something far more earth-shattering on the map table—I cannot fathom how the conclusion evaded my consciousness for so long.”
“And what conclusion is that, exactly?”
From over the top of the paper, she blinked at him as if bewildered by the question. “Why, that I love you of course. I’ve been trying to figure out when I first fell. It’s a vital component for my research.”
She came up to him and shared the page, her puckered brow and pursed lips so earnest that she didn’t seem to realize that he’d gone still. Or that he’d stopped breathing.
Her declaration had taken him completely by surprise. The words rushed in his ears in a sudden sweet flood, threatening the walls he’d constructed to protect himself over the years. It was terrifying. It was wondrous. And it was maddening, because he didn’t know what to do.
“Now, if you could take a look at this chart. Have I missed any of the crucial moments when it might have—”
Raven turned her in his arms.
He heard the paper crumple between them and her soft gasp of surprise as he lowered his mouth to hers. He had to tether himself to something grounded, something real, something logical. And Jane was all those things.
Smart as she was, she knew exactly what he needed. She pulled him into the welcome of her slender arms as they twined around his neck.
At once he was engulfed in her powdery scent, her body rising to meet his. Yet, somehow, he could still feel her words as if they were branded in his ears and scribed on his lips and tongue. Every tender press and soft sigh caused another deluge of this terrifying, wondrous thing to ram relentlessly against his fortress.
His heart pounded back with equal force. It felt like he was surrounded by a rising flood beyond his control. So Raven clung to her tighter, lifting her off the stone tiles. If he was going to drown, then he was keeping her with him.
He’d never had anyone love him. Never had anyone of his own before. And Jane was his.
According to her rules, he’d claimed her the day he’d introduced her to his grandfather by using her given name. And who was he to argue with propriety?
“You’re mine now,” he growled, needing her to understand.
Against his lips, he tasted her smile. “If I am yours, Raven, then you are mine.”
Chapter 27
Jane was lost in Raven’s ardent embrace. There was something desperate and fierce in the way he held her, his hands fisting in her clothes. And he’d never kissed her this way before, taking possession of her lips in searing passes and deep, fathomless pulls as if he were branding her.
How could she focus on her chart when her entire being was fully immersed in the love she’d only just discovered today?
So she gave herself over to it, slanting her mouth beneath his. The chart could wait until later. Much, much later.
His skin felt smooth against her lips and chin, smelling clean and freshly shaven. And his tongue tasted sweet like brandy as he held her tighter against him.
He growled in appreciation as his hands roamed down her body, claiming every inch he touched, splaying into the dip in her spine, molding over the curve of her waist, and the plump flesh of her bottom, delighting all her senses. After experiencing the map table, her body responded with eager pulses that descended quickly to the cradle of her thighs.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked, feeling the shift of their bodies with his sure-footed steps along the path.
“To your napping spot.”
His voice was so low and deep that it sent a flutter directly to her midriff. Breathless, she asked, “Planning to tuck me in, or are we napping together?”
“Whatever you like. But first, I’m hoping to . . . expand your research.”
He lifted her higher, just enough for her to feel the hard outline of his flesh. There was no mistaking his meaning.
A thrill trampled through her, along with a hint of trepidation. “And are you going to be thorough?”
“Quite,” he said resolutely and nipped lightly on her chin. A silver glint of wickedness sparked in his gray-smoke irises.
But any qualms she may have had were abandoned the instant he commenced a scorching path down her neck. She surrendered her throat to his openmouthed kisses, loving the way he laved the tender pulse that throbbed helplessly and wantonly for him.
“How shall we begin? And will I need to take notes?” she asked when they reached the secluded chaise longue.
He lowered her feet to the tiles in one sinuous slide of her body over his, awakening thousands of tingling receptors. Lifting his hands to her hair, he deftly withdrew the pins holding her coiffure in place, loosening the silken strands to fall softly against her nape and shoulders.
“I’m going to start off by sampling every inch of your delightful little body,” he said tilting her chin up for a kiss. But then he stopped and frowned in speculation. “Why are you biting your lip? What is it that you’re holding back?”
She released her lower lip and shook her head. “Well, for you to have access to every inch, I could not be wearing any clothes. And that thought reminded me of the first time I was naked in the conservatory. It involved a study of an ant colony that went awry, and an unsuspecting gardener who has never been able to look me in the eye again.”
Raven laughed, tilting back his head and holding her close. “There is no one else in the whole world like you, Jane Pickerington.”
With a smile lingering on his lips, he cupped her face and kissed her so tenderly it was as if he was telling her something else altogether. Something true and earnest. It drifted inside her with every caress, floating down into the deepest part of her heart in a secret whisper.