The Duke of Suffolk stood rigidly by the fireplace in Whitehaven's grand reception hall, his gloved hands clasped tightly behind his back. The December air outside had turned bitter, but inside, Bobby Kestrel's innovative heating systems kept the sprawling manor comfortably warm regardless of winter's grip. Henry Grey's face remained pinched with disapproval as he watched the manor's master approach through the arched doorway.
"Your Grace," Bobby acknowledged with a slight nod that conveyed respect without subservience. "An unexpected pleasure. I trust your journey from London was tolerable despite the weather?"
The Duke's mouth twitched with barely suppressed irritation. "Tolerable enough, Lord Kestrel. Though I find winter travel grows increasingly bothersome as one ages."
"Indeed." Bobby gestured toward the seating area near the fire. "Perhaps some refreshment after your journey? Whitehaven's kitchens produce a rather remarkable mulled wine that combines traditional English methods with certain Eastern spices rarely found outside Constantinople."
"I haven't come for hospitality," the Duke replied tersely, though he did move toward the offered chair. "I've come regarding my daughter."
Bobby's expression revealed nothing as he took the seat opposite. "Lady Jane has proven an extraordinary asset to our educational initiatives. Her translations of classical texts have attracted scholarly attention throughout England and even parts of the continent. You must be quite proud of her achievements."
The Duke's jaw tightened. "Her scholarly pursuits were encouraged as appropriate feminine accomplishments alongside proper noble training. Not as a replacement for her fundamental responsibilities."
"Which responsibilities might those be?" Bobby inquired with deceptive mildness. "Her tenure as England's queen has concluded. Her betrothal to Guilford Dudley was formally dissolved following Northumberland's disgrace. Her current position on the council as a scholar voice provides meaningful opportunity to contribute to England's advancement without the political dangers associated with proximity to the throne."
"You know perfectly well what I mean," the Duke snapped, patience clearly evaporating. "My daughter spends more time at Whitehaven than at Suffolk House. The queen's courtiers whisper about her frequent 'scholarly retreats' to Kent. Even Mary Tudor, despite her declining health, has remarked upon Jane's problematic attachment to your household."
A servant appeared with a tray bearing mulled wine despite the Duke's previous rejection of refreshments. Bobby accepted a goblet without comment, watching as Suffolk reluctantly did the same after a moment's hesitation.
"Your Grace," Bobby began after taking a measured sip, "perhaps we might speak plainly. What precisely concerns you regarding Lady Jane's association with Whitehaven?"
The Duke's expression darkened further. "What are your intentions toward my daughter?"
Bobby allowed himself a small, sardonic smile. "My intentions are rather transparent, I should think. Nothing I've done regarding Lady Jane has been particularly secretive."
Suffolk winced visibly, the implications clearly striking home. "I've heard... rumors... about activities at Whitehaven. About your personal habits regarding certain noblewomen who frequent your estate."
"Have you indeed?" Bobby's tone remained mild despite the accusation. "Court gossip proves remarkably creative, though not always accurate in its particulars."
"Enough accuracy exists to cause concern," the Duke insisted. "Jane is seventeen. Despite her former status as queen, she remains under paternal authority regarding her future. I have responsibility for her welfare and reputation."
Bobby studied the older man thoughtfully. Despite Henry Grey's numerous political miscalculations and naked ambition, he did appear to harbor genuine concern for his eldest daughter—at least insofar as her actions reflected upon family status.
"I assure you, Your Grace, I've never acted toward Lady Jane without her express consent and enthusiastic participation."
The Duke's face flushed with anger. "That's hardly reassurance! Jane would consent to whatever you suggested regardless. Like half the noblewomen in England, apparently."
"An exaggeration," Bobby observed dryly, "though I appreciate the implied compliment regarding my powers of persuasion."
Suffolk set his goblet down with excessive force, wine sloshing dangerously close to the rim. "This isn't a matter for jest, Kestrel. Jane may be brilliant beyond her years intellectually, but she remains vulnerable regarding... certain matters. Her inexperience makes her susceptible to manipulation by someone of your... particular talents."
Bobby's expression hardened slightly, his casual demeanor fading. "Your daughter is a woman of remarkable intellect and emotional maturity. While chronologically seventeen, her capacity for independent decision-making exceeds that of many twice her age. I believe her fully capable of determining her own associations without paternal micromanagement."
"That's not—" The Duke began, but Bobby continued without allowing interruption.
"Furthermore, Your Grace, your concern regarding Jane's vulnerability seems somewhat belated given your previous willingness to use her as political currency. You raised no objection when Northumberland arranged her marriage to his son against her evident preference. You supported her placement on the throne despite the legal questionability of the succession amendment. Her current autonomous choices regarding scholarship and personal relationships seem considerably less problematic than those you previously endorsed on her behalf."
The Duke's face reddened further, though whether from embarrassment or anger remained unclear. "My political decisions were made for family advancement with Jane's ultimate benefit in mind."
"Were they?" Bobby inquired softly. "Or were they made with your advancement as primary consideration, with Jane's welfare a secondary concern at best?"
"How dare you question my motives regarding my own daughter!"
"I question what appears questionable," Bobby replied evenly. "Your sudden paternal concern seems remarkably coincident with my influence rather than with more significant dangers Jane has faced previously."
The Duke's composure fractured further. "Your influence! That's precisely my concern. A mere viscount with scarcely two years' presence in England, yet you've somehow acquired military forces sufficient to counterbalance Mary Tudor's Spanish allies. Your commercial interests outperform established merchants with generations of experience. The council structure you've engineered allows unprecedented influence regardless of which Tudor occupies the throne."
"Ah," Bobby nodded with evident understanding. "I see the true nature of your concern, Your Grace. It's not merely paternal protection that brings you to Whitehaven today, is it? You're troubled by the apparent contradiction in your own position."
The Duke's brow furrowed. "What contradiction?"
"On one hand, you express fear that Jane might suffer emotionally through association with me. On the other, you're visibly disturbed by the influence I wield despite my relatively modest title." Bobby took another sip of his mulled wine. "One might almost suspect you're less concerned about Jane's welfare than about why such power hasn't come your way despite your more impressive ducal status."
Suffolk's jaw tightened. "You twist my words to serve your own interpretation."
"Do I?" Bobby set his goblet aside. "Your ambition has never been particularly subtle, Your Grace. From the moment Henry VIII's health began failing, you've positioned yourself to advance Suffolk interests regardless of collateral damage—even to your own daughter."
"That's not—"
"It isn't lost on anyone that if I truly desired England's crown," Bobby continued, cutting across Suffolk's protest, "there would be little practical opposition. History certainly provides ample precedent for dynastic change through military means." He gestured lazily toward the window where Whitehaven's extensive grounds spread beyond. "My popularity with common citizens grows daily through educational initiatives, agricultural improvements, and welfare programs your peers consistently oppose as too costly."
The Duke's face had paled slightly. "Are you threatening—"
"Merely observing historical patterns," Bobby interrupted smoothly. "Though I find the tedium of actual governance singularly unappealing. Court politics represents endless backstabbing and pointless ambition when one could instead pursue genuinely meaningful endeavors."
Bobby leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharpening. "Which brings us to the essential question, Your Grace. Are you wasting both our time with this performance of paternal concern? England stands at the precipice of unprecedented advancement—scientific revolution, cultural transformation, economic expansion that will elevate all classes rather than merely the privileged few. While potentially turbulent, these changes will ultimately prove remarkably peaceful compared to traditional power transitions."
His voice dropped slightly, taking on an edge that hadn't been present before. "History will record these developments regardless of individual opposition. Those who facilitate this progress will be remembered favorably. Those who obstruct it for personal advantage..." He paused meaningfully. "Well, they tend to become rather unfortunate footnotes in scholarly accounts of more significant events."
Sweat had begun to bead visibly along Suffolk's hairline despite the room's comfortable temperature. The implicit threat behind Bobby's measured words hung between them, made more disturbing by the absolute certainty with which he delivered it.
"I have only Jane's interests at heart," the Duke insisted, though his voice lacked its previous conviction.
"Then demonstrate that conviction through actual paternal attention," Bobby suggested, rising from his chair. "Spend time with your daughters rather than pursuing fundamentally obsolete political strategies. Power isn't found in land holdings or ceremonial titles anymore, Your Grace. It exists in innovation, in knowledge distribution, in commercial networks that transcend traditional structures—none of which can be secured through the marriage alliances you've historically favored."
He gestured toward the door. "More importantly, genuine fulfillment rarely correlates with conventional power regardless of how it's acquired. One might even suggest that happiness and political ambition typically exist in inverse proportion."
Before Suffolk could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the entrance hall. Bobby moved toward the doorway just as Jane Grey appeared, slightly flushed from apparent haste, her dark copper hair escaping its pins despite obvious attempts at maintaining proper arrangement during rapid travel.
At seventeen, with proper nutrition and reduced stress since surrendering England's crown, Jane had blossomed into a remarkably attractive young woman. No longer the painfully thin girl who had reluctantly accepted coronation, she now carried herself with natural confidence that complemented her delicate features rather than appearing at odds with them.
The Duke's expression reflected unmistakable pride despite himself—though he had contributed little to his daughter's development beyond genetics and political positioning.
"Father?" Jane's surprise seemed genuine as she entered the reception hall. "I received word at Greenwich that you had traveled to Whitehaven and made haste to follow. I hadn't expected to find you still here."
"A fortuitous coincidence," Bobby offered smoothly. "Your father and I were just concluding our discussion."
Jane's gaze shifted between them, her expression suggesting she doubted the conversation's casual nature. "I hope I haven't interrupted anything of importance."
"Merely routine matters," Suffolk claimed with forced lightness.
Jane's skeptical expression deepened. "Indeed? Because the messenger mentioned you departed London with considerable urgency after hearing of my scheduled retreat to Whitehaven this week."
The Duke shot a reproachful glance at Bobby, who merely raised an eyebrow, betraying nothing.
Jane squared her shoulders, her composed demeanor shifting toward something more assertive. "Father, while I appreciate familial concern, I must insist that my relationship with Lord Kestrel remains my own affair. My intellectual development and personal associations no longer require paternal authorization given both my age and previous service to England as its sovereign."
"Jane, I—" the Duke began, his tone conciliatory.
"Furthermore," she continued without allowing interruption, "history has amply demonstrated that Your Grace's definition of 'appropriate' alliances tends toward political advantage rather than personal compatibility or intellectual growth. Given previous matrimonial arrangements you endorsed despite my evident reservations, your current concern rings somewhat hollow."
Bobby attempted to interject. "Lady Jane, perhaps—"
"Please allow me to finish, Robert," she requested with surprising authority for someone addressing a peer of the realm. "I must ensure Father understands completely."
Jane turned back to Suffolk, her expression softening slightly though her words remained pointed. "I harbor no resentment for past decisions made during extraordinarily complex political circumstances. However, I must insist upon autonomy regarding current associations, particularly those that have contributed significantly to my intellectual and personal development rather than merely advancing family position."
The Duke looked increasingly uncomfortable, shifting his weight between feet like a schoolboy receiving correction rather than England's premiere duke addressing his daughter.
"While I recognize the potential tensions between traditional expectations and my current choices," Jane continued, her voice gaining confidence with each word, "I must prioritize authentic development over conventional appearances. My relationship with Lord Kestrel represents genuine intellectual partnership alongside... other considerations... that remain entirely my own affair."
"Jane," Bobby finally managed to interrupt, his tone gentle but firm. "I believe there may be some misunderstanding regarding His Grace's visit today."
She turned toward him, eyebrow raised questioningly.
"Your father and I were discussing potential commercial collaborations involving Suffolk wool production and Whitehaven's manufacturing capacity," Bobby explained smoothly. "The matter of personal relationships didn't arise until your rather dramatic entrance just now."
Jane's expression shifted from righteous indignation to mortified embarrassment with remarkable speed. Her cheeks flushed scarlet as the implications of her passionate defense became clear.
"Oh," she managed weakly. "I see."
The Duke cleared his throat awkwardly. "Though since you've raised the matter so... directly... perhaps we should address it after all."
Bobby's expression cooled slightly. "As Lady Jane has eloquently articulated, her personal choices remain entirely her own given both her age and extraordinary circumstances."
"And the matter of potential marriage?" Suffolk pressed, apparently emboldened by Jane's accidental admission of deeper feelings. "Various noble houses have expressed interest in Whitehaven's future countess. Surely such significant alliance warrants discussion beyond merely personal preference?"
Jane's embarrassment gave way to alert attention, her gaze fixing on Bobby with evident intensity.
"I've received numerous approaches regarding potential matches," Bobby acknowledged carefully. "The matter requires considerable deliberation given implications extending far beyond mere personal considerations." He glanced meaningfully toward Jane. "Lady Kestrel of Whitehaven represents position with unprecedented influence that even England's queen regards with cautious respect. More concerning, such title potentially creates target for those opposing the advancements we've implemented."
Jane inhaled sharply, recognizing the implicit danger within his explanation. Yet her expression reflected determination rather than fear.
"Any true partnership faces challenges," she observed quietly. "Some risks prove worthwhile despite potential consequences."
Bobby's expression softened almost imperceptibly. "Indeed. And any worthy partner would naturally receive absolute protection regardless of formal title." His gaze held Jane's with unmistakable significance. "I would defend Lady Kestrel from all harm until my dying breath."
A small smile touched Jane's lips. "As you would protect anyone earning your loyalty, I expect."
"Without hesitation or reservation," Bobby confirmed, though something in his tone suggested particular application to Jane regardless of her formal relationship to Whitehaven.
The Duke looked increasingly uncomfortable watching this exchange with its layers of meaning beyond the literal words exchanged. The subtle communication flowing between his daughter and Lord Kestrel made his own position feel oddly superfluous, as though witnessing private language he couldn't fully translate.
"Perhaps I should take my leave," Suffolk suggested stiffly. "The hour grows late for return journey to London."
"You're welcome to stay at Whitehaven overnight," Bobby offered with formal courtesy that nonetheless sounded like polite dismissal. "The guest quarters remain perpetually prepared for unexpected visitors."
"No, I..." Suffolk hesitated, glancing toward Jane. "Your mother—" He stopped himself, visibly reconsidering his approach. "Your younger siblings have asked after you. They miss your presence at Suffolk House."
Jane's expression softened at mention of her sisters. "I shall visit home soon, Father. Though not today." She glanced toward the window where twilight had begun settling across Whitehaven's extensive grounds. "I've expended considerable energy reaching Kent from Greenwich. I would prefer remaining here tonight, if Lord Kestrel permits."
"You're always welcome at Whitehaven," Bobby replied smoothly. "Your chambers remain precisely as you left them after your previous visit."
Something flickered in Suffolk's expression—resignation mixed with grudging acknowledgment that his daughter had effectively established independence despite his theoretical paternal authority. The transition had occurred gradually enough that he hadn't recognized the moment of shift, yet its completion now appeared undeniable.
"Very well," he conceded with forced dignity. "Until next time, then."
The Duke's departure proceedings occupied minimal time given his apparent eagerness to escape the increasingly awkward situation. Once Suffolk's carriage had disappeared down Whitehaven's extensive drive, Bobby escorted Jane from the reception hall toward the manor's central wing where more comfortable accommodations awaited.
"I apologize for misinterpreting Father's visit," Jane offered as they walked through Whitehaven's impressive gallery. "Though I suspect commercial negotiations weren't his true purpose regardless of your diplomatic explanation."
Bobby's lips twitched with amusement. "Indeed. Your assessment proved remarkably accurate despite my attempt to spare you unnecessary confrontation."
"Father has always prioritized advantageous connections," Jane observed without particular bitterness. "Though I believe genuine concern exists beneath his political calculations, however deeply buried."
They turned into the eastern corridor where evening sunlight streamed through tall windows overlooking Whitehaven's experimental gardens. Jane paused briefly, her attention caught by a slender female figure examining rose specimens alongside one of Bobby's gardeners.
"Is that Catherine Howard?" she inquired, recognizing the Duke of Norfolk's granddaughter despite the distance.
"Yes," Bobby confirmed without elaboration. "She's undertaking specialized education at Whitehaven this month."
Jane studied the young woman thoughtfully. At eighteen, Catherine Howard combined remarkable beauty with reputed vivacity that had already attracted attention at court despite her relatively modest circumstances before Norfolk's recent favor.
"Another of your protégées?" Jane asked, her tone carefully neutral despite the question's implications.
Bobby's gaze shifted toward her, his expression revealing nothing. "Catherine possesses surprising intellectual capacity beneath her deliberately frivolous exterior. Her understanding of human motivation particularly merits development beyond conventional female education."
Jane nodded slowly, absorbing both his words and their unspoken subtext. After a moment's consideration, she reached for Bobby's hand with surprising directness, entwining her fingers with his as they continued walking.
"I understand that fidelity represents unrealistic expectation," she said quietly. "Your nature inherently resists conventional constraints regarding connections—emotional, intellectual, or physical."
Bobby slowed his pace, giving her statement the serious consideration it deserved. "What makes you believe you understand my nature when most find it deliberately impenetrable?"
"Because I observe rather than merely see," Jane replied with simple confidence. "Your hunger for genuine connection transcends ordinary human experience, suggesting something fundamentally different about your existence. The solitude you occasionally reference seems proportionally greater than conventional loneliness—almost existential rather than merely circumstantial."
Bobby's expression revealed rare surprise at her perception even now. "Most people require significantly more information before developing such insights."
"Most people haven't spent hundreds of hours in philosophical conversation with you," Jane countered with gentle certainty. "Nor observed the subtle patterns in your interactions across widely varying circumstances."
They had reached the private sitting room adjoining Jane's chambers—a comfortable space where they had spent countless hours discussing everything from classical philosophy to advanced mathematical concepts during her frequent "scholarly retreats" to Whitehaven.
As the door closed behind them, Jane turned to face Bobby directly. "I don't require exclusive claim to your attention or affection," she stated with remarkable candor. "I simply wish inclusion among those who matter genuinely to you, however numerous that group might be."
Bobby studied Jane's face—her earnest expression, the determined set of her jaw, the vulnerability in her eyes despite her composed words. The statement contained a maturity that belied her seventeen years.
"That's a rather unexpected perspective," he commented after a moment, "considering your faith."
Jane's lips curved into a small, thoughtful smile. "I've learned to compromise while retaining my core values. My brief reign and subsequent council service taught me that rigidity serves neither governance nor personal happiness."
She moved to the window, watching the last rays of sunset illuminating Whitehaven's experimental gardens where Catherine Howard still conversed with the head gardener.
"Religious tolerance became necessary policy during my tenure as queen," Jane continued. "Catholics and Protestants alike required governance regardless of theological differences. That practical experience shifted my understanding of faith itself."
"In what way?" Bobby asked, genuinely curious about her evolving perspective.
Jane turned back to face him, her expression surprisingly serene. "I cannot claim exclusive connection to God's will when so many seek Him through different paths. What matters ultimately isn't doctrinal precision but the genuine pursuit of goodness."
She stepped closer, her movements deliberately measured. "Similarly, I won't claim exclusive right to your affections. What I require is honesty, faithfulness to whatever promises you make, and undivided attention when we're together. Beyond that..." She glanced toward the window where Catherine's distant figure was still visible. "Beyond that, I acknowledge your nature extends differently than conventional expectations might demand."
Bobby's expression grew momentarily troubled. "I should apologize for that nature. My inability to reject connections stems from—"
"Then don't," Jane interrupted softly, moving close enough that her skirts brushed against his legs. With surprising boldness, she placed her palm against his chest. "Don't apologize for being exactly who you are."
Before he could respond, Jane rose onto her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his. Unlike their first tentative kiss so long ago, this one conveyed deliberate intention rather than impulsive emotion.
Bobby hesitated only briefly before his arms encircled her slender form, drawing her closer as he returned the kiss with carefully controlled intensity. Jane's body felt different than during previous embraces—more definitively womanly despite her petite frame, her curves more pronounced against him.
When the kiss finally broke, Jane's breathing had quickened noticeably, her cheeks flushed with color that extended down her neck toward her modestly covered décolletage.
"I believe I'm ready for lessons beyond philosophical conversation," she stated with remarkable directness despite her evident nervousness. "If you're willing to provide such education."
Bobby glanced toward the door, half-expecting Margaret's timely interruption as had occurred during previous moments of escalating intimacy.
Jane followed his gaze and smiled knowingly. "Margaret remains at Greenwich. I left rather hastily upon hearing of Father's visit here."
"The captain accompanied you, I assume?" Bobby inquired, his hand still resting at the small of her back.
"Of course. He takes your security protocols quite seriously." Jane's fingers traced the embroidery on Bobby's doublet with deliberate slowness. "He's currently ensuring the east wing remains undisturbed for the duration of our... discussion."
Bobby felt an unexpected conflict rising within him. He needed to tell her about the quantum displacement energy accumulating within his system—the inevitable departure that would tear him from this timeline within months. Jane deserved to know that whatever began between them had definite, immutable expiration.
Yet looking into her upturned face, her dark copper hair catching the last golden rays of sunset through the window, he couldn't bring himself to introduce that particular reality into this moment. The pain such knowledge would cause her seemed unnecessarily cruel when their time together already contained inherent limitations.
His logical mind insisted that prolonging this deception would only increase her eventual hurt. Yet something deeper—something he'd experienced only rarely throughout his vast existence—overrode that calculation with surprising force.
"Robert?" Jane's voice broke through his momentary distraction, her hand now resting against his cheek. "You've gone somewhere else entirely."
The simple intimacy of her touch combined with her use of his given name created a warmth that spread through his chest with alarming intensity. Jane Grey hadn't merely penetrated his carefully constructed armor—she had somehow bypassed it entirely, reaching directly into places he'd thought safely inaccessible.
Fuck it.
The decision crystallized with surprising clarity. Whatever consequences might follow, he wouldn't deny either of them this connection during the limited time available.
Bobby's hands moved to cup Jane's face, tilting it upward as he kissed her with newfound intensity that made her previous kisses seem like mere prelude. Her surprised gasp melted into a soft moan against his mouth as his tongue sought entrance, which she granted with enthusiasm that belied her limited experience.
His hands slid down her neck to her shoulders, then lower still until they rested at her waist, pulling her firmly against him. Jane's body trembled slightly at the increased contact, her own hands clutching at his doublet as though seeking stability amidst overwhelming sensation.
Without breaking the kiss, Bobby guided her backward until her legs met the edge of the bed. Jane's breath hitched as she realized their trajectory, but she made no move to resist. Instead, she allowed herself to be lowered onto the mattress, Bobby's larger form following until he partially covered her, his weight supported on one elbow beside her head.
"Is this—" he began, only for Jane to press her fingers against his lips.
"If you apologize, I shall be thoroughly cross with you," she warned, her voice breathier than usual but containing unmistakable determination. "You've taught me to question everything except my own desires. Don't contradict that lesson now."
Bobby smiled against her fingertips before kissing them lightly. "As you wish, Lady Jane."
His free hand moved to the lacing at the front of her gown, deftly loosening the complicated fastenings that had been designed for lady's maids to manipulate rather than impatient lovers. Jane watched his movements with fascination, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath his touch.
As the bodice loosened, Bobby traced the exposed edge of her chemise where it met the swell of her breasts. The simple contact drew a shaky exhalation from Jane, her eyes momentarily fluttering closed at the novel sensation.
"You're beautiful," Bobby murmured, continuing his gentle exploration along her collarbone and up the side of her neck.
Jane's eyes opened, meeting his with surprising directness despite her obvious arousal. "You needn't offer flattery. I'm well aware of my physical limitations compared to other women you've known."
Bobby shook his head, his fingers trailing along her collarbone with deliberate gentleness. "I'm not referring merely to what meets the eye, though your physical form is beautiful in its own particular way." His gaze held hers with unusual intensity. "I'm referring to the remarkable mind that animates your features—the intelligence that shines through your expressions, the curiosity that shapes your questions, the compassion that informs your decisions. True beauty transcends mere physical arrangement."
Jane blushed deeply, the color spreading across her cheeks to the very tips of her ears. "I apologize for the comment. I shouldn't have—"
Bobby stopped her with a kiss—gentle but insistent, his lips claiming hers with deliberate purpose rather than mere affection. Jane's momentary surprise dissolved quickly as she wrapped her hands around his head, fingers threading through his thick hair as she pulled him deeper into the kiss. Their tongues explored each other's mouths with increasing boldness, Jane following his lead but adding her own tentative experimentation that revealed both her inexperience and her natural intuition.
When they finally broke apart, Jane was breathless—more so than from her hasty journey to Whitehaven. Her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath the partially loosened bodice as she gazed up at him with wide eyes darkened by dilated pupils.
"That was..." she began, then faltered, apparently unable to categorize the experience within her extensive vocabulary.
"Merely beginning," Bobby completed for her, his voice dropping to a lower register that sent unexpected shivers down her spine despite the room's comfortable warmth.
He lowered his mouth to her neck, placing deliberate kisses along the sensitive skin just beneath her ear. Jane gasped at the novel sensation, her head tilting instinctively to provide better access as Bobby continued his descent. His lips traced the elegant curve where her neck met her shoulder, occasionally adding gentle suction that made her clutch at his doublet with increasing urgency.
Meanwhile, his hands remained anything but idle. While one supported his weight beside her head, the other explored her body with methodical attention that somehow felt both careful and demanding. He cupped her breast through the fabric of her chemise, thumb brushing across the stiffening peak with a precision that drew a startled moan from Jane's lips.
"Oh!" The sound escaped before she could prevent it, her body arching slightly into his touch despite her complete inexperience with such intimate contact.
Bobby smiled against her skin, continuing his dual assault with lips and hands as Jane's responses grew increasingly uninhibited. Her breathing came in short, ragged bursts as unfamiliar sensations cascaded through her slender frame, each new touch creating reactions she couldn't consciously control.
"This is..." She struggled to form coherent speech as Bobby's hand slipped beneath her chemise to caress the bare skin of her stomach. "I didn't realize... that physical sensations could be so..."
"Overwhelming?" Bobby suggested, his palm sliding upward to cup her bare breast beneath the thin fabric.
Jane nodded frantically, words temporarily beyond her capacity as his thumb circled her nipple with deliberate slowness. Her hands clutched alternately at his shoulders and the bedcovers beneath them, seeking stability amidst the new sensations flooding her consciousness.
Bobby continued his methodical exploration, shifting slightly to bring his mouth to the exposed portion of her breast above her chemise. His tongue traced the delicate skin there as his fingers continued attending to her nipple, creating dual points of sensation that made Jane whimper with confused delight.
"May I continue?" he asked, his hand pausing momentarily at the edge of her chemise.
Despite her arousal, Jane appreciated the question—the respect for her autonomy it implied despite their obvious mutual desire. She nodded, unable to formulate verbal response but communicating consent through both expression and the eager arching of her body toward his touch.
Bobby carefully loosened her clothing further, sliding the bodice down until it gathered at her waist. The chemise followed, revealing her small, perfectly formed breasts to his gaze. Jane fought the momentary impulse to cover herself, her scholarly mind noting with fascination the evident desire in Bobby's expression despite her modest proportions compared to the voluptuous figures typically celebrated in artistic representation.
"Beautiful," he murmured, lowering his mouth to capture one pink nipple between his lips.
Jane cried out at the sensation, her back arching reflexively as his tongue circled the sensitive peak. The connection between this attention and the growing warmth between her legs seemed both unexpected and somehow inevitable, as though her body possessed knowledge her scholarly mind had never accessed through books or academic discourse.
Bobby's hand slid lower, caressing her thigh through the layers of her skirts. Even this indirect touch sent ripples of anticipation through Jane's body, her legs shifting restlessly as unfamiliar heat built between them.
"I feel..." she began, struggling to articulate the novel sensations. "There's a strange pressure... down there." The scholarly precision that characterized her usual speech had abandoned her entirely, replaced by fragmentary expressions of overwhelmed sensation.
Bobby smiled against her breast before lifting his head to meet her gaze. "Would you like me to help relieve that pressure?"
Jane nodded frantically, trust overcoming potential embarrassment as desire continued building within her slender form. Bobby's hand moved beneath her skirts, sliding up her leg with deliberate slowness that heightened anticipation to nearly unbearable levels. His fingers traced patterns along her inner thigh, gradually approaching but deliberately avoiding the center of her need.
When his hand finally brushed against the apex of her thighs, Jane gasped at the shocking intensity of even this gentle contact. Through her undergarments, Bobby could feel the remarkable heat and moisture that testified to her arousal—evidence that her body had prepared itself thoroughly despite her conscious inexperience.
"You're already so wet," he murmured approvingly, his fingers pressing slightly more firmly against the thin fabric separating them from her most intimate flesh.
Jane's face flushed with momentary embarrassment at this frank assessment, though the sensation of his touch quickly overwhelmed any self-consciousness. Her hips lifted slightly toward his hand, seeking greater contact through instinct rather than deliberate decision.
Bobby responded to this unconscious invitation, carefully shifting her undergarments aside to access her directly. His fingers encountered slick heat as he gently parted her folds, exploring her intimate geography with careful attention to her responses.
"Oh!" Jane's exclamation contained equal parts surprise and pleasure as his finger brushed against the sensitive bundle of nerves at her entrance. "What is... how did you..."
Bobby smiled at her confusion, continuing his gentle exploration while explaining with unexpected tenderness. "Your body possesses natural wisdom beyond what you've learned through books, Jane. This—" his finger circled her clitoris with deliberate precision that made her gasp again, "—is designed specifically for pleasure rather than mere reproduction."
Jane's scholarly mind attempted to process this information even as her body responded with increasing enthusiasm to his skilled touch. "I've read anatomical texts that mentioned female organs but never... never with such... functional explanation."
Her academic observation dissolved into a moan as Bobby's finger slipped lower, teasing at her entrance without actually penetrating. The sensation created a desperate emptiness she hadn't known could exist—a physical craving entirely new to her experience.
"Please," she whispered, though she wasn't entirely certain what she was requesting.
Bobby seemed to understand nonetheless, his thumb replacing his finger at her clitoris while a single digit carefully pressed into her entrance. The penetration, minimal though it was, created a fullness that made Jane cry out, her internal muscles clenching instinctively around the invasion.
"Is this all right?" Bobby asked, his finger remaining still within her until she nodded frantically.
"Yes, it's... it feels strange but... good." Jane struggled to articulate the complex sensations flooding her consciousness. "Please don't stop."
Bobby began moving his finger slowly, establishing gentle rhythm while his thumb continued circling her clitoris with careful precision. The dual stimulation created building pressure that Jane couldn't quite categorize despite her extensive vocabulary. Her breathing accelerated further, small sounds escaping her throat with each exhalation as pleasure built toward something she couldn't name but instinctively sought.
"Robert," she gasped, her hips lifting to meet his hand as tension coiled tighter within her lower abdomen. "Something's happening... I feel like..."
"Let it happen," Bobby encouraged, his movements becoming more focused as her body signaled approaching climax. "Trust the sensation. Don't fight it."
Jane clutched at his shoulders, her face contorting with confused pleasure as the pressure continued building beyond what seemed physically possible. Just when she thought she couldn't possibly contain more sensation, something broke within her—a dam releasing flood of pleasure that pulsed through her entire being.
"Oh! Oh God!" The words escaped without conscious thought as her body convulsed around Bobby's finger, internal muscles contracting rhythmically as waves of pleasure washed through her slender frame.
Bobby maintained his touch throughout her climax, carefully adjusting pressure to prolong her pleasure without overstimulating sensitive tissues. Jane's eyes had closed during the peak of sensation, her features transformed by ecstasy in ways scholarly concentration had never achieved.
As the most intense sensations gradually subsided, Jane's breathing remained rapid but began returning toward normal rhythm. Her eyes fluttered open, meeting Bobby's gaze with expression containing equal parts wonder, satisfaction, and lingering desire.
"That was..." she began, then stopped, apparently unable to find adequate words despite her scholarly vocabulary.
"Just the beginning," Bobby completed for her, gently removing his hand from between her legs while maintaining intimate contact through his body partially covering hers.
Jane watched with fascination as Bobby brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting her essence with evident appreciation that created renewed heat in her lower abdomen despite her recent climax.
"You taste like honey and spice," he murmured, the simple observation causing another flush to spread across Jane's cheeks.
"I didn't know..." she began uncertainly.
"Most men don't bother discovering such things," Bobby explained, understanding her unspoken question. "Their loss entirely."
Before Jane could formulate response, Bobby was shifting downward, arranging himself between her legs with clear intention that momentarily alarmed her despite their recent intimacy.
"What are you doing?" she asked, pushing herself up slightly on her elbows to watch his movements with scholarly curiosity mingled with arousal.
"Providing empirical demonstration of my previous statement," Bobby replied with slight smile that somehow combined tenderness with wicked promise.
Jane's eyes widened as understanding dawned. "You mean to... with your mouth?"
"If you'll permit it," Bobby confirmed, his hands gently spreading her thighs further apart as he settled between them.
Jane hesitated only momentarily before nodding, curiosity and renewed desire overcoming potential embarrassment at such intimate exploration. "Yes," she whispered, falling back against the pillows. "I want to experience everything."
Bobby carefully arranged her skirts, pushing them upward to provide unobstructed access while preserving some modesty should unexpected interruption occur. The practical consideration touched Jane even amidst her growing arousal—further evidence of the respect that consistently characterized their interactions despite the power differential between them.
When his mouth finally made contact with her most intimate flesh, Jane gasped sharply, her hands clutching reflexively at his hair. The sensation of his tongue against her sensitive tissues created entirely different quality of pleasure compared to his fingers—warmer, softer, yet somehow more intense in its velvet persistence.
"Oh!" The exclamation escaped as Bobby's tongue circled her clitoris with deliberate precision, then flattened to provide broader contact that made her thighs tremble on either side of his head. "That's... how do you... oh God!"
Coherent speech abandoned her entirely as Bobby continued his intimate exploration, alternating broad strokes with focused attention that revealed both extensive experience and genuine desire to provide pleasure rather than merely demonstrate technique. His hands maintained gentle but firm grip on her thighs, holding her open to his attentions while simultaneously grounding her against overwhelming sensation.
Jane's scholarly mind attempted briefly to categorize the experience within her extensive knowledge framework, but quickly surrendered to pure sensation as pleasure built with remarkable speed toward second climax. Her hips began moving with increasing urgency against Bobby's mouth, following instinct beyond conscious control as tension coiled tighter within her lower abdomen.
"Please," she gasped, though she couldn't have articulated precisely what she was requesting. "Please, Robert, I need..."
Bobby seemed to understand nonetheless, his tongue focusing more intently on her clitoris while a finger carefully slipped inside her again, curving upward to find sensitive spot that created entirely new dimension of pleasure. The combined stimulation pushed Jane rapidly toward threshold she now recognized but couldn't control.
"Oh God, it's happening again," she managed, her voice rising in both pitch and volume as climax approached with unstoppable momentum."I'm going to—"
Words dissolved into wordless cry as pleasure crashed through her with even greater intensity than before. Her body convulsed, inner muscles clenching rhythmically around Bobby's finger as waves of sensation washed through her slender frame.
Unlike her first climax, this one seemed to extend indefinitely, each pulse of pleasure flowing seamlessly into the next until Jane lost all sense of separate identity, existing merely as vessel for sensation beyond anything her scholarly imagination had ever conceived.
Bobby maintained his attentions throughout her extended climax, carefully modulating pressure and movement to prolong pleasure without creating discomfort through overstimulation. Only when Jane's cries softened to whimpers and her clutching hands relaxed their desperate grip on his hair did he gradually ease his ministrations, placing gentle kisses against her inner thighs before carefully rearranging her clothing.
Jane lay boneless against the bedding, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to reintegrate her consciousness after such overwhelming physical experience. Her eyes remained closed, expression containing mixture of satiation and lingering wonder that created its own beauty beyond conventional standards of female appearance.
"Are you all right?" Bobby asked softly, moving upward to lie beside her on the bed.
Jane managed faint smile without opening her eyes. "I believe 'all right' represents significant understatement given current circumstances," she murmured, her voice containing languorous quality entirely absent from her usual precise diction. "Though I find myself unexpectedly...depleted."
Bobby brushed strand of copper hair from her forehead with gentle touch that contained tenderness beyond mere physical affection. "Rest then," he suggested, drawing light blanket over her partially disheveled form. "There's no hurry."
Jane's eyes fluttered open briefly, concern crossing her features despite evident exhaustion. "But you haven't... I should..."
"There will be time," Bobby assured her, placing gentle kiss against her temple. "Tonight is about you, not me."
Jane wanted to protest this imbalance despite her limited understanding of precisely what reciprocation might entail. However, the combination of her hasty journey from Greenwich and the intensity of her dual climaxes had depleted her energy beyond what even her determined mind could overcome. Her eyelids grew increasingly heavy despite her attempt to maintain consciousness.
"Don't leave," she managed as sleep began claiming her, one hand reaching to grasp his doublet with surprising strength given her evident exhaustion.
"I won't," Bobby promised, settling more comfortably beside her atop the bedcovers while she remained beneath them—arrangement maintaining certain propriety despite their recent intimate activities. "I'll be here when you wake."
Jane's lips curved into small smile as consciousness faded, her body relaxing completely against him with trust that transcended mere physical vulnerability. In those final moments before sleep claimed her entirely, she realized with unexpected clarity that whatever Bobby truly was—whatever mysteries surrounded his nature or origins—the essence of her feelings toward him remained unchanged by those unknowns.
Whatever he is, Jane thought as slumber enveloped her consciousness, however long I may have him... it's worth everything.