The Misplaced Husband, page 13
Opal couldn’t think; she could only feel.
Still silent, Jasper walked around her, and Opal moaned slightly as she heard him remove his boots and breeches. Oh, not being able to see him, knowing he was right behind her and—
“Jasper,” she whispered.
It was not a plea, merely the suggestion of one, but it was enough to spur him into action. Opal gasped as she felt his warmth behind her, embracing her. Jasper kissed her shoulder delicately, making Opal whimper as his fingers started to undo the knots of her corset.
Slowly, slowly, with more kisses up her neck and the heady suggestion of his bare thighs against hers, the corset came undone. It was thrown aside, along with Opal’s chemise and petticoats.
And that was it. She was naked.
Opal turned slowly and quivered with anticipation as she saw Jasper. He was precisely as she had remembered him—handsome, the man she had welcomed into her bed all those years ago.
“Jasper.”
He pulled her into his arms at that murmur of invitation, and Opal groaned with happiness as the intensity of the moment overwhelmed her. Jasper’s skin against hers, nothing between them, nothing holding them back from each other. It was all she wanted—and she was very certain of what she wanted next.
Overcome by desire, Opal pulled Jasper to the bed and into her arms. They would make love slowly, carefully, lovingly, later, many times.
But right now, passion ruled her, driving her forward, rushing through her body and it could not be denied.
“Enter me,” Opal begged.
Jasper’s eyes widened, his legs nestled between hers. “You—you are sure?”
Opal moved a hand to his manhood, and he groaned, his eyelashes fluttering as he gave himself up to the pleasure. “I need you, now.”
Jasper did not need further invitation. They both moaned with pleasure as he entered her, slowly, inch by inch, and Opal knew she was about to be completed in a way she had lacked for seven long years.
“Damn, you are better than I remember,” Jasper moaned in a jagged whisper, “and you were good then.”
It was all Opal could do to focus on his words. There was no possibility of replying. Her mind was dazzled with growing sensations, the hardness of him within her, the desperate ache that needed to be quenched.
“Take me,” Opal said, her fingers clinging to his shoulders, needing him deeper, needing movement, anything to fan the flames of the fire within her. “Please, Jasper, take me, take me now!”
Jasper moaned as he dipped his head to kiss her, passionately entangling his tongue with hers, before he broke off the kiss and looked deep into her eyes.
“You have no idea how much I have dreamt of you saying that.”
Opal arched her back as Jasper pulled out almost all the way, then thrust back into her. Sparks of ecstasy shot through her, and she could not help but whisper his name, which only seemed to push him further.
Faster, and deeper, and Opal lifted her legs, her ankles in the air as she welcomed him in, her whole body shivering with a growing warmth, pleasure rushing through her in waves, building, building, the ache in her desperate for relief. She was close, so close, and she cried out to let him know.
“Oh, Jasper, yes, yes, there, more!”
And that was it. Opal fell apart as she cried out in ecstasy, and Jasper poured himself into her, unable, it seemed, to hold himself back as the cries of their lovemaking intermingled and eventually fell silent.
Chapter Thirteen
May 9, 1794
Jasper blinked. The bedchamber came back into view slowly. It had a strange pattern to it; light from the window was scattering shadows across a wallpaper he recognized.
He blinked again.
Memories poured in from the previous night. Memories of pleasure, of kisses, embraces, and knowing that he had finally, after all this time away, come home.
“Take me. Please, Jasper, take me, take me now!”
Opal. Jasper leaned heavily against the pillow, relief tinging his stomach—they had made love.
And it was not just once. There had been some particularly wonderful moments as the candlelight flickered, and they had taken their pleasure again and again.
They had spent all afternoon in bed together. The children had come back, Jasper had heard them, and Opal had taken a moment to instruct the governess and maid on what to do with them—but for the first time, perhaps in her children’s life, she had put herself first.
A small miracle.
After lovemaking, whispered sweet nothings, and declarations of love and hope and adoration, he and Opal had curled up and talked. And sat in silence. Just hearing her heartbeat, knowing Opal was close, that she trusted him, that she still loved him, it completed him.
Those had been the most precious moments of all.
A weary smile crept across Jasper’s face. Finally. After hesitation and fear, confusion, and moments when he had believed nothing could be repaired, everything was as it should be.
He had convinced Opal de Petras he loved her, that his entire life had been, still was, and always would be, committed to her. There was none more important than her. His Opal.
There was not a single thing he would have changed, and he had to hope Opal would be of a similar mind. And speaking of Opal…where was she?
Jasper sat up, suddenly conscious he was in the large bed alone. Why would she leave without him?
The door opened, and Opal strode in, fully dressed and hair adorned. Suddenly conscious he was entirely naked and aware that anyone could walk in behind Opal and see him, Jasper pulled the bedclothes protectively over his chest.
Opal laughed as she closed the door. “Do not worry, it has been a while since the children have come into my bed.”
My bed. Not our bed. Jasper could not blame her, he supposed. There were years of learned behavior they would both have to unlearn, different for each of them.
“I was not expecting you to be up so early,” Jasper confessed with a grin.
Opal raised an eyebrow as she moved to the window and pulled open the curtains to reveal blazing sunlight. “Early? ’Tis near eleven o’clock in the morning, Jasper. I came here to wake you before luncheon.”
Jasper’s mouth fell open. Near eleven? How was it possible that he had slept so long?
Opal’s grin broadened. “I was the only parent for a while, remember. I was always the one to get up early, always the one that had to be available, ready at a moment’s notice.”
Jasper smiled weakly.
“To be honest with you, I am looking forward to the time when you can get up early and leave me in bed,” teased Opal, leaning against the windowsill. “Now,” she said firmly, “I am taking Coral to the modiste.”
“The modiste,” Jasper repeated vaguely. Had Opal mentioned this before? Was he supposed to know what this was all about?
Opal’s knowing look suggested he should. “A new trio of gowns, Jasper, as we discussed—it does not matter. She is growing so fast, she needs new clothes, and I shall ask Madame Jacques to make them a little longer, perhaps with a tuck so they can be let out as she continues to grow.”
“Don’t let Coral hear you say that,” Jasper teased. “She will worry we may not be able to afford gowns for her in the future.”
“Lord, yes, I shall keep that to myself and speak very delicately in Madame Jacques’s ear,” said Opal with a sigh. “Miss Matilda is taking care of the other two upstairs.”
Jasper nodded.
In an impetuous movement, Opal stepped over to the bed, leaned over, and kissed him. “I shall miss you, Jasper de Petras!”
Well, he could not help it, could he? With Opal so close once again, and the memories of their kisses lingering at the edges of his mind, Jasper did the only thing he could think of: placed his arms around her and pulled her into the bed with him.
“Jasper de Petras, let me go!”
“Never,” he said happily. “You are my prisoner, and I will not let you leave without a kiss.”
Opal squealed with laughter just as she had done when they had first married, pecked his cheek, and wriggled free. “Really! My appointment with Madame Jacques—”
“Yes, yes, fine,” he said, plumping up the pillows so he could lean against them. “Next time, tell me. I’d like to come.”
That was apparently not the correct thing to say. Shaking her head as she laughed, she said, “Jasper, you cannot think to come to the modiste! ’Tis for ladies, ladies only!”
Jasper shrugged. “Well, perhaps not the modiste itself—but I do not want to be left behind Opal, always hearing about things that are happening and not taking part. I want to be a part of their lives, Opal. And yours.”
He had attempted to put heart into those words, though it afeared him slightly to say them. To be so open…it was not the English gentleman’s way.
But she seemed to understand. At the very least, Opal smiled but stayed silent, closing the door quietly behind her as she left.
As Jasper was not actually needed anywhere, per se, he made use of his time in bed, basking in the glow of knowing that he and Opal had finally managed to put the past behind them.
Painful, it had been. Slightly torrid, it certainly was. But now they had the rest of their lives to better understand each other. To love each other.
When he did finally get up, Jasper let out a groan. He was not as young as he once was.
It took a moment to pull on breeches and his other clothes scattered around the floor, then he leaned out of the door into the corridor to check that no one would see him sneaking back to the guest bedchamber to retrieve a fresh shirt.
As Jasper slowly did the buttons up, he looked around the guest bedchamber in a different light.
He had not chosen this house. Opal had found it alone, though perhaps Coral might have given her opinion. He would have to ask. The wallpaper and carpets were certainly of Opal’s choosing. Jasper would recognize that taste anywhere—flamboyant, yes, but elegant. A delicate mixture.
Something akin to regret, but not quite as bitter, rose in Jasper’s heart. Their home in Bath had been elegant and refined, something they had built together. Every decision had been made as a pair, though it was Opal’s money that had purchased it and her wealth that had furnished the place. His had been reinvested in the shipyard, a third ship to grow the company.
Yet she had never made him feel as though it was not his home. Not like this place.
He should have returned earlier.
The thought flashed through his mind in an instant, painful but impossible to disagree with. It was easy now, with the beauty of hindsight, to think that the letter writer—whoever they were—was just nonsense. A jest gone wrong.
But during such a sense of fear, with the Terror going on in France and anyone who was not English being targeted…
Jasper’s jaw tightened as he came to the last button. He had taken the threatening letters seriously, and who knew what might have happened if he had not. He could be a widower now, with no children. Staying had not seemed an option.
But now he had reunited with Opal…nothing had occurred.
No retribution. No return of the letters, which was half what Jasper had expected.
Perhaps there were additional clues he could fathom from the letters themselves. Yes, that would be an excellent use of his day today, while Opal and the children were engaged. He would never be able to rest, not entirely, until the mystery of the letters had been solved.
Striding across the guest bedchamber, now fully dressed save for his cravat, Jasper opened his trunk for both cravat and letters.
Only the former was there.
It took him a moment to recall, but only after he had tied his cravat did Jasper remember why. Of course, he had given the letters to Opal as evidence of why he had left.
So, they would be…downstairs?
A wide smile was on Jasper’s face as he half walked, half ran down the stairs and across the hall to the drawing room. There was nothing to dim his mood today, not now he and Opal were once again on a happy footing.
The bureau was against the wall on one side by the grandfather clock, and when Jasper opened it, a flurry of paperwork fell out. Opal must have filled the thing to bursting. Most of them were bills or invoices, from what Jasper could see. They all had variations of ‘PAID’ stamped across them in red ink.
She truly was a marvel. Jasper could not comprehend how Opal had managed to mother three children, keep a household running, and maintain a small yet secure place in Society.
There—his eye caught the bundle of letters, and Jasper pulled them toward him. Only when they were in his hands did he realize they were not the letters that had threatened his wife with violence if they decided to remain together.
No, these were letters of quite a different kind. A flurry of words on the top of the pile caught Jasper’s eye.
astonished to have met such a beautiful woman as
Jasper swallowed. That was a wooing sentence, but he could not recall…
He removed the top letter from the pile and glanced at the one underneath it.
enchanted from the very first moment I met you, and knew
Slowly, very slowly, Jasper lowered himself into an armchair. They were not the letters he had been looking for—but nor were they courting letters he had sent Opal from times gone by.
He had not sent her many. They had been wed too quickly for much correspondence.
Knowing he was doing something wrong but unable to help himself, Jasper untied the string around the pile of letters and started to flick through them.
never felt this way for any other lady, and I beg you
could not comprehend a world in which you did not
must ask you to consider my offer, I will not call it a proposal
Only after reading one in full did he realize what they were. Love letters. Love letters to Opal—from a gentleman he did not know.
Blood boiling, heart pounding, Jasper tried to keep calm, but it was impossible. That she would betray him like this—the things the man was saying, it was obscene!
Pain tore through his heart. Jasper raised a hand to his chest as though that could prevent the agony, but it did nothing. How had he managed to become so vulnerable? He had ignored all opportunities to be unfaithful, feeling his heart bound entirely to Opal. He had expected the same devotion, the same loyalty.
And who had sent her such…such suggestive letters? One of the gentlemen he had met here—the stupid one he had thrown out of the house? Mr. King? He should have called out the devil!
“—show her the paid invoice, she is much mistaken,” came Opal’s voice from the hall. “Madame Jacques knows I always pay my bills on time—it’ll be here, in the bureau.”
Jasper rose hastily but there was no point—he would never have had time to reach the bureau, let alone place the letters and all the bills back inside. He was still holding the letters, standing like a fool by the armchair when the door opened and Opal entered.
“You will never believe the nonsense Madame Jacques is trying to feed me,” Opal said. “Arguing I did not pay for Emerald’s last gown, as though…Jasper.”
Her gaze flickered from the open bureau to the letters in his hand.
“What are you doing, snooping through my things?”
“We are—were—should be married,” said Jasper coldly, taking a step forward. “They are our things.”
“No, they are my things,” Opal contradicted, stepping forward. “My bills, my invoices, my—”
“Letters?”
Jasper raised his hand holding the love letters and was careful to watch Opal closely. The flush, when it arrived at her cheeks, was dark.
Perhaps that was what hurt most of all. She could have pretended not to know them, that they were nothing to do with her. But guilt was painted across her face.
Tempting as it was to erupt, however, Jasper managed to hold his tongue. He loved Opal, knew it had been…strange between them. He owed her the chance to explain.
“Nothing…nothing actually happened,” Opal said awkwardly. “I-I was lonely.”
“So lonely that you—”
“I did not write to him!” Opal spoke quickly, pain in her eyes. “I never replied to a single one, Jasper, you must believe me. And how was I to stop such…such missives?”
“You still read them,” he pointed out.
Opal hesitated for a moment, then held her head high as she met his gaze. “I did. As I said, I was lonely.”
Jasper let out his breath in a long, slow heave. It was a relief to hear Opal had never compromised herself by responding to such letters. The idea that somewhere out there in the world were love letters from Opal to another gentleman…
They already had one scandal to overcome, his sudden reappearance. The last thing they needed was a second. The last thing this family needed was more gossip.
“So. He wrote to you.”
Jasper had intended it as a statement rather than a question, but Opal looked abashed as she spoke. “It was a few years ago. I had accepted that you were never coming back, and I was lonely. I…I flirted. Once. In company, of course.”
He needed to hear nothing more as the pangs in his heart started to subside.
“If I had known then…if I had known you were alive, that you were coming back, that you had not abandoned me—”
“You would not have read them?”
There was a rather knowing smile on Opal’s face, one that Jasper could not help but like. “I would not have needed to. Surely you can understand that? I wanted…I needed reassurance. That I was beautiful. That I was worth desiring.”
It was difficult to judge when hearing her speak so openly like that. Lord knew Jasper could not comprehend just how damaging his sudden disappearance had been.
“I am sorry.”
Opal frowned. “You are sorry?”
“For reading them. Well, not all of them, some of them,” said Jasper with a heavy sigh. “I suppose this is part and parcel of our life now. There are…gaps. In our story together. Gaps taken up with other things.”
“But not other people,” said Opal. “I hope you can believe that.”
