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Chapter Seventeen

London, Three Weeks Later

“Jerome!” protested Ava with a giggle as her husband tugged her into an anteroom off the gallery and shut the door. Pressing her up against it, he kissed her fervently.

“I haven’t seen you all day,” he said between kisses.

Sliding her arms around his neck, Ava gave him back kiss for kiss. “I know, there is a lot to organize for a debutante’s ball!”

Jerome pressed kisses along her neck and rummaged through her skirts.

“Jerome?” she questioned as he raised her skirts, sliding a hand up her inner thighs. “Ohh!” She closed her eyes as his fingers slid into her soft flesh and extracted the most exquisite sensation. “I—oh! I promised Letty I’d keep an eye on Sophie!” she said helplessly.

“This won’t take long,” responded her incorrigible spouse as his fingers glided inside her and his thumb pressed on that spot that made her knees threaten to give out.

“You—oh!” moaned Ava, giving into the pleasure as his mouth found hers again and stifled her groans. In the next moment he undid his falls and, lifting her up as if she weighed no more than a feather, he impaled her with his member and, pressing her firmly up against the door, hammered her body hard with his.

How he managed it she didn’t know, but he had the angle just right for her and a wild few minutes of ravenous desire saw them both coming together in a heated rush.

Since their wedding night, they’d made love in all sorts of positions, passionately, slowly, lovingly, and on occasion—like this one—hard and fast.

Panting in the aftermath of the sudden explosion of bliss, her feet slowly dropped to the floor as he eased her down and disengaged their bodies. He leaned his forehead against the door above her head as he caught his breath.

He smiled down at her and cupped her face, giving her a gentle kiss. “Thank you.”

She rose on tiptoe and kissed him back. “Thank you.”

He used a handkerchief to dab between her legs, stuffed it in his pocket and poked a pin back into place in her coiffure.

“There—beautiful as ever. I’ll join you in a minute.”

He stepped back from the door, and she slipped out of the room, patting her hair and grinning to herself. Being married was much more fun than being a debutante.

Jerome joined her in the ballroom a few minutes later, his appearance restored to its usual immaculate perfection. Anyone looking at them would never guess they had just made frantic love standing up against a door! Unless the flush in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eye gave her away.

The fact that her gorgeous husband couldn’t keep his hands off her kept Ava in a bubble of happiness the entire night. It was Sophie’s debut ball at her parents’ house in Grosvenor Square, and as Jerome had promised Letty their support, Ava had spent the day helping Letty with all the last-minute preparations for the ball. For which her sister-in-law was very grateful.

Sophie was a redhead, technically strawberry blonde, with a tendency to freckle, having inherited her father’s russet coloring. She was a very pretty girl, with her mother’s—and uncle’s—beautiful blue eyes and good bone structure.

“Are you satisfied, Letty?” asked Ava, joining the older woman on the couch where she was resting and watching her daughter dancing.

Looking up as Ava sat down, Letty dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. “Oh yes! I was just remembering her as a tiny tot and reflecting how quickly time passes. Look at me being a watering pot! It’s the baby; makes me cry at the drop of a hat,” she said disgustedly. Jerome appeared with refreshments for both ladies and Ava took the glass he offered her with a warm smile just for him. My cup runneth over!

*

Three nights later, Jerome propped up the wall watching his wife dancing with Ashford. Despite his sloppy dress sense, the viscount was an excellent dancer and Ava loved to dance. Jerome made her reserve her waltzes for him but let her pick her other partners as she pleased. Even so, they were already getting a reputation for being unfashionably besotted. But he found he didn’t care one jot for that. If adoring his wife was a social solecism, the ton could drown themselves in the Thames. He had never been so happy in his life.

“You’ve got that grin on your face again,” said Robert, joining him.

Jerome flushed slightly, but the grin didn’t diminish. “Is a man not allowed to be happy?” he asked.

“Of course he is. Makes me realize how unhappy you were before. And more to the point, you’re making my sister happy, so I can’t complain about that. I was wrong.” Robert said, with the frankness that made him such a good friend.

Jerome nodded. “Thank you. I was wrong, too. I thought she would be better off with someone else. Thank God Ava had the sense to push for what she wanted.”

Robert let out a breath. “Yes, although I would still wish she hadn’t chosen quite such an outrageously dangerous way to do it. Still gives me nightmares.”

“Me too,” said Jerome soberly.