Deliberately, he pulled his hand away from between her legs, watching as her hips moved at the sense of loss, trying to regain his touch. He took a finger, moist with her body's juices, and laved her nipple. With the hard nub soaking wet, he blew his hot breath across it, feeling her body squirm against the sensations he was causing.

"Tell me you don't want this, Jane." He blew again against the nipple, lowered his lip till it just grazed the tip, then pulled away, refusing to give her the relief she sought. He moved to the other breast, wet the nipple in the same manner and blew on it. "Tell me, Jane. Isn't this exactly what your body has been craving for so long? Haven't you dreamed about this at night? Haven't your breasts swelled and hurt at the thought of what it would feel like to have my lips around them? Tell me, Jane," he finished in a whisper.

How could he know how much she truly wanted this when she hadn't known herself? How could he know?

His lips hovered just on the edge of her extended nipple, torturing her with their closeness. Her breasts ached painfully. They were full and hard, and she longed for the sweet relief she'd felt during her dream. Somehow her body knew what she craved. Raising a hand to the back of his head, she pulled him closer.

With careful attention, he went to work again, sucking and licking. Each touch, each subtle shift of pressure, each tilt of his head brought a reaction from her. What a gem he'd uncovered.

Jane couldn't stand the painful pressure Wessington was creating. Each flick of his tongue, each tug of his lips, sent a surge through her body as though she'd been jolted by lightning. Her limbs seemed on fire, the blood in her veins roasting her from the inside out.

He left her breasts, and she nearly pouted as he withdrew the pleasure his mouth had provided, except there wasn't time to pout. Moving up her chest, he nuzzled her neck, teasing her earlobe until she squirmed in agony. Leaving a trail of moist kisses against her skin, he sought her mouth.

With tender urgency, he brushed his lips over hers, his excitement growing with each passing moment. Although she probably didnat realize it, her body was matching his, movement for movement. As his hands roamed across her shoulders and arms, hers moved up and down his back. When his knee slipped between her thighs, her hips arched to meet it. As he bit back a groan of pleasure, so did she. As had happened the other few times he'd touched her, he was so ready for her that he felt fourteen again and busy with his first lass. He was a man of great sexual experience. How was it that she aroused him so quickly and so completely?

Knowing he needed to slow himself down, both to prolong his own pleasure and to increase hers, he worked on her lips, urging them open.

"Kiss me back, Jane, just as you did in London." His tongue begged invitation, begged again, until almost shyly her own met his in playful suggestion. "Yes, that's it."

Jane opened her mouth, receiving him, learning the pressure and shape of his lips, the feel of his teeth, the shape of his tongue as it worked against her own in a firm, insistent rhythm. Her hand moved along his neck, pulling him closer. Under her fingertips, she could feel the steady pounding of his heart, and a secret thrill passed through her as she realized he was as fevered as she.

The fur of hair on his chest brushed against her swollen nipples. The rough hair dusting his thigh abraded the soft skin of her own. He raised a knee, applying greater pressure against her woman's spot, and Jane discovered a new swirl of sensation, so exquisite that it was nearly unbearable. The only way she could ease the ache was to flex her hips against his roving thigh; each time she did, Wessington's ardor seemed to increase. He'd shifted until most of his body was covering hers, but for some reason, he didnat seem heavy. He only seemed welcome. The sensation of having a man lying on her, bearing her into the mattress was a new one and, she found to her satisfaction, a delightful one.

Phillip knew he couldn't stand the suspense of wanting her much longer. He let his fingers trace a swirling path down across her breasts, her waist, her navel until he once more reached her curly thatch. Without teasing or hesitating, he slipped into the wet heat, two fingers pushing inside. Moving them in a carnal rhythm timed to correspond with the thrust of his tongue, he let her body learn the rhythm to come, except that it already seemed to know.

Her hips flexed against his hand, but the motion no longer eased the excruciating agony growing between her legs. Something was happening. Something she didnat understand. Her body seemed to be spiraling toward a place where she had never gone before. The journey was unknown as was the destination, and, when Wessington shifted over her and moved between her legs, 'twas the first time she became frightened. His hardened member pressed against the moist spot at the center of her thighs, begging entrance, but that wasn't what scared her. It was something more. Something different. She didnat want to find out what it was, but she didnat want to let it escape either.

"What's happening to me?" she asked, a worried look in her eye.

"It's pleasure, love," he said in a voice so tightly controlled that she barely recognized it. "Don't fight it."

"But I don't know . .." Her protest was cut off by the movement of his thumb across a hard nub hidden in the wet folds. The touch on a spot she'd never known existed on her body shot fire through her abdomen and beyond.

Phillip raised back on his elbow, wanting a better view of her as he eased her over the edge. She was ready, waiting, her body practically begging him to take her where she needed to go. He pushed just the tip of his shaft inside her wet sheath, fighting with every bit of his self-control to keep from burying himself to the hilt, then rubbed again across the center of her sex. Twas hard, enlarged. She jumped.

"Say my name." He stroked it again.

Jane looked into the beautiful face of her husband.

There were beads of sweat on his brow as though he was in great physical pain, his breathing heavy and labored. Some powerful emotion swept through her, too near to love to examine closely.

"I feel so strange," she whispered.

"Say my name," he demanded again, caressing that agonizing spot another time.

A spiral started through her, beginning at the hot point of sensation where his thumb kept striking and moving out across her belly, to her breasts, to her limbs. She arched her back, no longer able to fight that which seemed determined to sweep her away. Her brow furled in confusion. "Phillip . . . what . . . ?"

"Say it again," he smiled, driving her further to the cliff toward which her body seemed to be hurling itself.

"Phillip . . ."

With a final hard flick of his thumb, he pushed her over the edge, and she went flying into space, stars bursting behind her eyes, a darkened universe of fireworks and explosions making itself known to her. And then she was free-falling. Through space, her body arching with need, seeking more than she was given, begging for mercy that it would end soon, but never wanting it to stop.

Phillip caught the cry of pleasure the moment before it burst from her lips. As her body tensed with passion, he grabbed her buttocks, lifted her and rammed deep inside her, absorbing every shock which shuddered through her. The moment went on and on as Jane writhed and fought against the blissful agony engulfing her. It took all he had to keep from joining her, but he wanted her to experience every moment of her first pleasuring and he wanted to experience it with her.

Slowly, gradually, the spasms subsided. Jane's body relaxed, her mind became cognizant of her surroundings. Phillip lay fully on top of her, her thighs spread like a wanton's, his man-part completely buried inside her. She'd fallen from a very high cliff, but her husband had been there to catch her. "It didnat hurt," she whispered in surprise.

"No. It never will again." He smiled down at her joyfully, brushing a kiss against her eager lips.

"It doesn't seem finished."

"It's not." Tightening his buttocks, he moved deeply, touching her womb, delighted to see how her eyes opened wide with shocked pleasure. He pulled all the way out until his tip just hovered at the opening of her body, then pushed all the way in again. "Move with me. Like this."

He started pushing in, pulling out, and Jane immediately learned his rhythm as her own. As if her body knew some secret code, she raised her hips and wrapped her legs around him, loving the deep growl of pleasure she heard coming from him as she flexed and arched, allowing him fuller access to her body. The pleasure he'd given her had been exotic, incredible, but unsatisfying, because even though it had ended, she felt incomplete. This was what she needed, she saw now, this fullness, this hard press of his flesh against hers, his tug and pull as their bodies strained together toward fulfillment.

The tension in his loins had reached such an alarming state that he nearly spilled himself, but he held back, wanting her to join him when he reached his peak. He moved in a deliberate rhythm, helping her learn the way, pushing and working, their bodies sweating and sliding as one. The pressure built until his ears rang with it, his blood pounded. Nothing, no one existed except Jane, lying so beautifully open and welcoming beneath him.

Pleasure was building in Phillip; Jane could sense it. His arms and legs flexed, his stomach tightened. The muscles in his neck tensed in thick cords. A strange, exciting thrill of anticipation began as her own body responded to his. This time, she knew what was coming and what the end would entail. And, with heartfelt certainty, she knew he would join her. She would not make the journey alone.

Phillip could tell she was once again near the edge. So was he. Bracing himself with one arm, he used the other to lift her hips, wanting to be closer but not seeming to be able to join closely enough. Jane, sensing his need, reached around and grabbed his buttocks, shifting her hips, pulling him deeper, closer, tighter. It was his undoing.

"Now," he pleaded, out of breath. "Come with me."

"Yes. Now." Jane arched up off the bed as Phillip's entire body tensed, and he growled his pleasure low in his throat. Feeling his essence spilling deep inside, dampening her womb, set off her own explosion of pleasure. She pulled him close as shudders of ecstasy rocked both of them.

Thoroughly sated, they held each other, tenderly, quietly, Phillip feathering soft kisses across her brow. Their racing pulses slowed together until Jane could feel the beat of his heart deep inside, throbbing through his shaft in constant rhythm with her own. It was a stirring sensation unlike any she could have possibly imagined.

Her eyes damp with tears from the emotion of it all, she rested a hand against his cheek and whispered, "I love you."

Chapter Twenty-Two.

Not knowing where the words had come from, Jane covered her mouth with her hand, wishing she could take them back. Her husband probably thought her an inexperienced ninny, but the passion that sizzled between them had briefly overwhelmed all of her senses.

Phillip's heart turned over at the declaration, and he smiled down at her. On his wedding night, he'd let Margaret frighten him about the disaster that would loom upon hearing those very words spring from Jane's lips. Now he couldn't imagine why he'd let the thought worry him. Nothing had ever sounded sweeter.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that," she said with a slight shake of her head.

Panicked that she'd say she didnat mean it, he kissed her cheeks. "Don't be sorry. Not for anything that happens between us when we're together like this. Anything is allowed as long as it makes you happy."

She ran her hand along his cheek, letting the stubble prickle her skin. "Is it always like this?"

"Rarely. But I daresay it will be like this for us much of the time."

"Why is that, do you suppose?"

"I've often wondered the same. My only explanation is that some people seem to have a physical connection that's unexplainable. I do not know what causes it or why it exists. It simply does."

"Has it felt like this for you before?" Jane knew she was at risk by asking, for the ache in her heart would be great if he answered truthfully.

Phillip was glad he did not have to lie. "No, it's never been like this for me before."

A soft knock sounded on the door, and Phillip bid the maid to enter. She quickly puttered around the room, starting a fire, setting out hot water and towels. Jane, never having suffered such a moment in her life, lay naked beneath her husband, shielded by his body. With her red face buried against his chest, she hid her eyes as the woman completed her chores.

Phillip kissed the top of her head. "Don't be embarrassed. She'll be gone in another moment." He looked at the maid over his naked shoulder. "Bring us some breakfast, please, but take your time."

The maid gave him a knowing, experienced smile and left the room, and Jane heaved a huge sigh of relief when she heard the door close, causing Phillip to chuckle at her refreshing innocence. He'd had all manner of people stroll through his sexual encountersa"from maids to butlers to old lovers to new lovers to strangersa"and nothing bothered him anymore. "You are splendid, my dear." He smiled, kissing her ear.

"I've never been more embarrassed in my life. Whatever must the woman be thinking of me?"

"Oh, I'd say she's thinking that this very lucky husband is enjoying a bit of morning pleasure before a long and arduous day. She's probably extremely jealous."

Jane's heart did a little flip-flop as he smiled and kissed her hand. She raised up on an elbow, suddenly shy again, and pulled the blanket closer, shielding her naked breast from his view. "I thought we were in a hurry. How come you told her to take her time with our morning meal?"

Phillip reached out and slipped a hand under the blanket, revealing the hidden breast for his avid assessment. The nipple puckered immediately, and he flicked his finger across it. "I want to love you again before we rise."

"You can do it more than once?"

The surprise and shock in her eyes caused him to laugh aloud. "I can do it numerous times if the spirit moves me."

"But I didnat do anything. How is it that you're aroused again so quickly? And so easily?"

"Part of it is the newness of it. Of being close to you. Touching you and seeing you. But it's also because you're so beautiful." He traced a hand down the swell of her chest, pausing to circle the swollen mounds. "Your face. Your hair. Your lovely breasts. All conspire to ignite my passions. I find I can't help myself." He pulled at the covers that had wedged between their bodies and shifted her closer so she was once again stretched against him.

As her nipples brushed the hair on his chest, Jane was shocked by how quickly her body responded to his. She wanted him again already. "And if my physique someday fails to inspire you? What then?"

He chuckled as he reached under the covers. His hard, aching shaft was at full attention. Wrapping his hand around hers, he squeezed tightly and showed her how to stroke him back and forth, enjoying her look of wonder and satisfaction as she touched him for the first time. "There are many ways to work your wiles on me. I plan to enjoy teaching you every one of them."

The maid gave them a long, leisurely hour to completely sate themselves, and they took full advantage of the time. But, as Jane was quickly learning, the physical side of loving could quickly become addicting if practiced correctly. As she'd first assumed about her husband, he was an ardent and skilled lover who took great pleasure in learning the ways of her body, just as his hungered for more knowledge of his own. As they rose, and Phillip helped her wash and dress, she was shocked to find herself thinking about what type of loving would await them in the night to come.

The days to Portsmouth passed quickly, the nights even more so, as the lovers enjoyed an easy companionship during the daylight hours. Darkness brought them what they both craved, times of wild abandon or quiet tenderness. They slept little, but barely seemed to notice as the journey continued. Their senses were on overload as they loved and talked and learned of each other.

As the miles wore on, Jane's contemplative silences grew longer, and he could tell her thoughts were increasingly on her home and what they would find there. In the pleasantness of their days together, the heat of their nights, it was easy for him to forget why they were on the road. For Jane, the reason was always there just below the surface.

The last morning, as they rode into the city, she barely talked at all. He allowed her to journey in silence, content to know he was close by if she needed him. They moved through the town and out the other side, passing numerous small country homes and estates until she stopped at the gate to a modest-sized two-story Queen Anne gracefully set on a small hill.

Below, off in the distance, was a protected harbor, and he could just make out the masts and sterns of numerous ships in various stages of construction. Odd, but for a workday, the place looked devoid of activity. He got a bad feeling but said nothing, not wanting to alarm his wife who was plenty nervous already.

"This is it?" he asked quietly, hating to disturb her reverie.

"Yes. My home."

Phillip winced at the phrase. He didnat want her to still be thinking of this small, plain place as her home. Although she'd told him what an unassuming man her father was, he found it hard to believe that a person possessed of such great wealth would live so frugally.

"Do you think they received our message?" Jane asked.

"I'm sure they did." There was a touch of uncertainty in her hesitation, and he leaned across and covered her hand with his own. "It will be all right, Jane."

"Yes, I know." She tried for a smile, but it didnat quite reach her eyes. Wanting to be the first through the gate, she turned her horse and started up the drive, not going more than a few yards before she reined the animal to a quick halt. "Oh, no."

Phillip looked up at the house, noticing for the first time the black wreath on the door, the black curtains draped over the windows.

Death.

They'd arrived too late.

Jane woke from her nap and judging from the shadows it was late afternoon. Her small bedchamber seemed so different now. Where once it had been her private haven from the secret turmoils of the household, now it just seemed little and plain and remarkably dreary. Why had they lived this way when they were, by all accounts, an incredibly wealthy family?

Father. Father was the answer. He'd been a hardworking, thrifty man. Almost miserly at times. No matter how well the business was doing, how much they thrived, he insisted on economy. Growing up, she had never enjoyed the servants or the gowns or the wonderful foods or all the other glorious things money could buy. He'd lived a simple life, so they had, too.

Had he enjoyed his life? Had he ever been happy? Jane didnat know, but she could never remember him ever spending any of his hard-earned wealth on an unnecessary purchase. No hair ribbons for his girls simply because they'd look pretty. No stick candles from the market as a surprise. No new gowns for a coming-out dance. Just work and saving and more work.

Now he was dead. Dead three days and buried the day before Jane arrived. He'd never regained consciousness after the seizure in London. If he could do it again, Jane wondered, would he change anything? Have a little more fun perhaps? Work a little less? Play a little more?

She shook off the morbid thoughts and rose to glance across the grounds sloping down toward the Shipworks. When Phillip had tucked her in for her nap, he'd said he was going down there. With so many interesting things to see, he was probably still there. She smiled, thinking how curious life was. Who would ever have imagined that she would be glad he had come with her?

Upon arriving hours earlier, he had been such a godsend, deftly handling their entrance into her childhood home where she didnat appear to be wanted or needed. He'd been the one to deal with Gert's rude and impertinent welcome by swiftly putting her in her place. He'd comforted Jane. He'd ordered her bath and put her to bed. And, most surprisingly, he'd acted like a devoted, loving husband, protecting her from any insult or abuse. If she didnat know better, she'd start believing he cared for her.

Jane smiled at the thought, but quickly chased it away. With Phillip down at the harbor, it was the perfect time to speak with Gregory. He hadn't been home when they'd arrived, but hopefully, with the supper hour approaching, he would be now. She wanted to seek him out and spend a few moments resolving things between them. It had been four months since they'd seen each other.

The thought of her brother-in-law left a bad taste in her mouth, for somewhere along the line, her memories of Gregory had changed dramatically. Or perhaps she had changed. Where once he had seemed charming, now he simply seemed overbearing. Not wise and thoughtful but bossy and selfish. Romantic had become manipulative. Misunderstood had become pitiful. His handsome features now seemed plain. And his trying to cheat on his wife, with her very own sister, left Jane angry and disgusted, both with herself and with him. Whatever had she been thinking?

She dressed quickly without summoning the maid Phillip had demanded Gert provide for her. It only took a few minutes to don the simple walking dress, to braid her hair. Down the stairs she tiptoed, knowing at this time of day she could find Gregory in the library if he was about at all.

As she entered the room, no one was present. She walked to the desk and surveyed the papers scattered there, shocked to see that the numbers looked familiar. Scooping them up, she scanned the columns. The pages contained her estimations of start-up costs for the import business. The factoring was her own, but the handwriting was Gregory's. Phillip had been right! Gregory was a liar as well as a thief.

Well-known footsteps sounded in the hall. She'd know Gregory's stride anywhere after spending years listening for it. Quickly masking the distress on her face, she moved to the window, making every effort to look calm when he entered.

Gregory paused in the doorway, a smile breaking across his face when he laid eyes on her.

"My dear, dear Jane. How good it is to see you at this horrible time. You must be devastated." He said it loudly, so any lingering servants might hear. "Let me express my most heartfelt condolences." Looking around covertly, he closed the door, then quickly stepped to her side, taking both her hands in his as he whispered, "Let me look at you. I swear you grow more lovely by the day."

Jane had to bite her lip to keep from laughing aloud. After all the years she'd pined away, cursing Fate that she couldn't have him for her own, she'd painted a picture of him in her mind as some sort of Adonis. Had he always been so short? Had his blond hair always been so thin on the top? Had that heavy paunch always circled his middle? Had his eyes always been so pale, his skin so marked? His breath so foul?

She took a step back. "Hello, Gregory."

"Hello, my love." Without warning, he pulled her into his arms. "I've been lost, absolutely lost without you. I can't believe you're here."

Jane's face was mashed against his chest. Her breasts pressed rudely and intimately against him. His erection was pressing against her stomach, and she again had to squelch laughter. Had he always been so poorly endowed?

She fisted her hands between them and broke the contact of their bodies. "I thought we should talk abouta""

Gregory cut her off. "Yes, my darling, we must talk, but first..." He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her.