Spring sunshine bathed Bradgate's north meadow in golden light, warming the chilled March air just enough to make outdoor activities pleasant. Bobby stood in the center of the field, calibrated kite soaring high above as he manipulated the twine with practiced precision. The diamond-shaped creation, fashioned from oiled paper stretched over a lightweight wooden frame, caught the wind perfectly thanks to subtle engineering improvements invisible to casual observation.
"Higher, Your Grace! Make it go higher!" Katherine Grey called, her own simpler kite wobbling precariously as she attempted to mimic his technique.
Nearby, little Mary Grey giggled with delight as her small kite—specially designed by Bobby with extra stability features to compensate for her physical limitations—danced through the air with surprising grace.
"Like this, Katherine," Bobby called, demonstrating the proper wrist movement that sent his kite climbing another ten feet upward. "Feel the tension on the line—adjust with the wind rather than fighting against it."
Jane sat on a nearby blanket, watching the scene with evident pleasure. Her dark copper hair had been arranged in a practical style beneath a simple cap, and she wore a gown of forest green that complemented her fair complexion. The rainbow-gemmed bracelet Bobby had given her glinted in the sunlight as she rested her hands on her lap.
"You needn't spend your afternoon entertaining my sisters," she said as Bobby maneuvered his kite through an impressive series of swoops. "I should be accommodating you better as our guest."
Bobby glanced down with amusement dancing in his eyes. "Your sisters are delightful company. Besides, I've never found kite-flying anything but thoroughly enjoyable." He executed another perfect maneuver that sent Katherine into appreciative applause. "A mind requires occasional frivolity to function properly."
Jane smiled, squinting up at the colorful shapes against the blue sky. "You've certainly brought frivolity to Bradgate. I can't recall the last time I heard Mary laugh so freely."
Indeed, her younger sister spun in delighted circles as her kite responded to even her slightly awkward movements. Bobby had designed it specifically to accommodate her physical limitations, ensuring she could participate fully despite her condition.
"You see? Tremendous progress," Bobby observed, nodding toward Katherine, who had finally managed to stabilize her kite. "Your sister possesses natural aptitude."
Jane reached up to adjust her cap as the spring breeze threatened to dislodge it. "You've created quite the spectacle. The servants are all watching from the house."
Bobby glanced toward the manor where, indeed, several faces peered from upper windows. "Let them watch. Perhaps some will build kites for their own children."
He returned to Jane's side, kite still soaring as he settled beside her on the blanket. For a moment, they simply existed together in comfortable silence, watching the kites dance against the endless blue.
"I should apologize for my parents," Jane said finally, her voice dropping to ensure privacy despite the open meadow. "These past three days have been nothing but financial negotiations and political maneuvering. It's precisely what I hoped to spare you from by inviting you here."
Bobby chuckled, adjusting his kite's trajectory with a subtle flick of his wrist. "I rather enjoy negotiation, particularly with your father. His initial demand for twenty-five thousand pounds annually was impressively ambitious."
"It was mortifying," Jane corrected, color rising in her cheeks. "And Mother suggesting you establish connections for Katherine at court as part of the arrangement? As though my sister were part of the marriage settlement like a parcel of land."
"Family negotiations often involve uncomfortable practicalities," Bobby replied easily. "I've witnessed far more mercenary discussions across dozens of cultures."
Jane plucked absently at the blanket beneath them. "I finally had enough this morning. I told them both that as Lady Kestrel, the privilege of granting them any support would remain with me." She glanced sideways at him through lowered lashes. "I hope you don't mind me... presuming."
Bobby smiled. "Getting ahead of yourself, are you?"
"Terribly," Jane admitted, her blush deepening. "But it worked. Father nearly choked on his breakfast, and Mother hasn't mentioned dowry requirements since."
"Lady Kestrel," Bobby said deliberately, watching her reaction with evident pleasure. "It has a rather pleasing sound, doesn't it?"
Jane's breath caught audibly. "You don't think it presumptuous of me? To call myself that before anything's official?"
"There is no one else," Bobby stated simply, his eyes holding hers with remarkable intensity despite their casual surroundings. "There could be no one else."
Jane's fingers found his on the blanket between them, a bold gesture considering their visibility from the house. "Then all their negotiations are quite pointless, aren't they?"
"Entirely," Bobby agreed, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before propriety demanded he release it. "Though I'll indulge them a while longer if it amuses you."
Jane laughed, the sound carrying across the meadow. "You're terrible. They think themselves so clever, securing advantages through careful negotiation, while you sit there letting them believe they're winning significant concessions."
"People generally believe what most comforts them," Bobby observed, his attention returning to his kite as a particularly strong gust required adjustment. "Your parents comfort themselves with the belief they're securing Jane Grey's value in gold and influence. I comfort myself with the knowledge that Jane Grey's true value lies in qualities no negotiation could possibly encompass."
The simple declaration, delivered without grandiloquence or expectation of response, left Jane momentarily speechless. She watched him manipulate the kite with precise, economical movements that somehow never appeared calculated despite their obvious skill.
"The bracelet suits you," Bobby commented, nodding toward her wrist where the rainbow gems caught sunlight.
Jane touched it reflexively, fingers tracing the intricate metalwork. "I intend to wear it as often as possible. It's like... an engagement gift of sorts."
"Is that how you see it?"
"Isn't that why you gave it to me?" Her eyes held a hint of challenge beneath their scholarly curiosity.
"Perhaps," Bobby acknowledged. "Though I had other considerations as well."
"Such as?"
"Its beauty. Its uniqueness. Its suitability for the woman wearing it." He glanced at her with faint amusement. "Must everything have hidden significance?"
Jane laughed again. "With you? Absolutely." Her expression softened as she watched her sisters enjoying their kites. "I require no materialistic gifts, you know. The best gift I could possibly receive is right beside me."
Bobby's expression shifted almost imperceptibly, something complicated flickering behind his eyes. "You say the most unexpected things some of the time, Jane." While his voice remained steady, Jane would have been hard-pressed to miss the note of wonder there.
He drew a deep breath, feeling an emotion so rare it took him a moment to identify it: peace. Not the calculated satisfaction of a well-executed strategy or the intellectual pleasure of solving complex problems, but simple, human peace. Here in this meadow, with this remarkable young woman beside him and children playing nearby, he wasn't orchestrating Elizabeth's rise to power or advancing England's technological development or preparing humanity for distant threats. He was just Robert "Bobby" Kestrel—an engineer lost in time who had somehow found connection despite the impossible odds against it.
"This is nice," Jane said softly, echoing his unspoken thoughts with uncanny precision. "I feel more at ease than I can remember feeling in years." She rubbed her temple briefly. "Even that persistent headache I've been experiencing seems to have vanished."
Bobby nodded, not mentioning that the bracelet on her wrist actively dampened her emerging psionic capabilities. "The stress of council duties likely took greater toll than you realized. Sometimes we carry tension without recognizing its source."
"You're probably right," Jane agreed. "The council sessions have grown increasingly complex since Mary's death. Elizabeth manages admirably, but the religious questions alone generate endless debate."
Bobby watched her face as they talked, recalling his recent discovery about her genetic structure. While testing her DNA to grant future authorization for certain hidden technologies she might one day need, his analysis had revealed a surprising psionic potential of 3%—remarkably high for a sixteenth-century human. Elizabeth's prophetic ability stemmed from her 5% rating, manifesting primarily through dreams of probable futures. Jane's potential appeared oriented toward empathy—an intuitive understanding of others that explained her uncanny ability to comprehend his complex emotions without explanation.
In almost every timeline he'd encountered, Jane Grey had been executed before any manifestation of psionic ability could develop naturally. He sometimes wondered if her supposed "witchcraft" accusations in some timelines might have actually represented early psionic awakening. The pure Tudor bloodline carried significant potential for such abilities, though without controlled development, they typically manifested as headaches, unusual insights, or disturbing dreams that historical records dismissed as religious visions or madness.
"The moon looks particularly round today," Jane observed, looking toward where the faint outline of the full moon was visible in the afternoon sky.
Bobby followed her gaze. "Indeed it does. Quite beautiful."
"What do you know of the heavens?" Jane asked, her scholarly curiosity evident. "The firmament and God's creation beyond our earthly realm?"
"What do you know of it?" Bobby countered, interested in her perspective.
Jane launched into an explanation that perfectly reflected sixteenth-century understanding—Earth at the center of creation, surrounded by crystalline spheres carrying planets and stars in perfect circular orbits, all encompassed by the primum mobile that God himself set in motion. Her description demonstrated remarkable knowledge of contemporary astronomy, citing Ptolemy and more recent European scholars with impressive accuracy.
"What if," Bobby asked when she finished, "the Earth were not the center of the universe? What if it were merely one planet among many, orbiting the sun rather than commanding the attention of all celestial bodies?"
Jane considered this with surprising seriousness. "I would challenge your reasoning, demand evidence for such an extraordinary claim, and then..." She smiled. "I would likely come to understand whatever truth you wished to demonstrate."
Bobby laughed. "Most would dismiss such ideas immediately and potentially advocate burning the heretic who suggested them."
"How barbaric," Jane replied with a slight shudder. "Though I understand the fear behind such reactions. Challenging fundamental beliefs threatens more than just astronomy—it undermines entire frameworks of understanding." She reached out, briefly touching his sleeve. "I would believe you because your knowledge, however cryptic and occasionally infuriating, rests upon foundations of truth. I trust everything about you."
"Trust works both ways," Bobby said quietly. "I trust that you'll do right with all the power of Whitehaven at your disposal."
And beyond Earth as well, he thought but didn't say. The sealed laboratory beneath Whitehaven contained technologies Jane couldn't begin to comprehend yet—though her remarkable mind would adapt quickly when the time came. If his calculations about quantum displacement proved accurate, she would need those resources sooner than either of them might wish.
"Your Grace!" Katherine called, interrupting his thoughts. "My kite is tangling with Mary's!"
Bobby rose smoothly, moving to assist the girls whose kites had indeed begun a complicated aerial dance that threatened to end with both crashing to earth.
"Gentle movements," he instructed, guiding Katherine's hands on the twine. "Counterclockwise, just so—"
The kites separated with what appeared to Katherine as magical ease. "You're marvelous with these contraptions," she exclaimed. "How did you learn such skills?"
"Practice and observation," Bobby replied simply, adjusting Mary's grip as well. "The same principles apply to many things in life. Understanding how forces interact allows you to work with them rather than against them."
Jane watched from her blanket, noting how patiently he guided her sisters, never condescending despite their inexperience. How different from the men she had known throughout her life—scholars who dismissed female intellect, courtiers who valued women solely for political advantage or physical beauty, even her own father who viewed his daughters primarily as assets for strategic deployment.
As the afternoon proceeded, servants brought refreshments from the house—small cakes, sliced apples preserved from last autumn's harvest, and watered wine appropriate for outdoor recreation. The Grey sisters clustered around Bobby on the blanket, Katherine and Mary bombarding him with questions about his travels and Whitehaven's famous innovations.
"Is it true you have a machine that prints books faster than twenty scribes working together?" Katherine asked between bites of cake.
"Several, actually," Bobby confirmed. "Though the principle remains rather simple once understood."
Mary, emboldened by his patient responses to her sister, ventured her own question. "Do you really have gardens where plants from distant lands grow despite England's weather?"
"Whitehaven's greenhouse maintains carefully controlled conditions," Bobby explained. "Temperature, humidity, soil composition—all adjusted to recreate environments from across Europe, North Africa, and portions of Asia."
Jane observed this exchange with quiet pleasure, noting how Bobby translated complex scientific principles into explanations her sisters could comprehend without ever speaking down to them. Even energetic Katherine remained attentive, her usually restless nature temporarily calmed by genuine intellectual engagement.
The girl who typically couldn't sit still through her morning prayers now hung on Bobby's every word as he explained how the kites utilized principles of air pressure and resistance.
Jane watched this domestic tableau with a strange sensation blooming in her chest—something warm and unfamiliar that took her a moment to identify. This was how family could feel, she realized. Not the calculated political unit her parents had forged through ambition and opportunity, but something genuine and nurturing.
The spring sunshine bathed them all in golden light as Katherine peppered Bobby with questions about Whitehaven's mechanical innovations and Mary carefully folded a piece of paper following his instructions to create a miniature kite. Jane found herself imagining a different scene—one where the children clustering around Bobby were their own. The thought came unbidden but settled with surprising rightness.
She would marry Robert and become Lady Kestrel. This wasn't a matter of if but when. The realization brought a flush to her cheeks as her mind traveled further down this path. She would give him children—children that he seemed to desperately want beneath his composed exterior.
Jane frowned slightly, uncertain where this conviction had come from. Bobby had never expressed any particular desire for offspring, had never even hinted at such yearnings during their conversations about potential marriage. Yet somehow she felt it with bone-deep certainty—an intuition she couldn't explain but trusted completely. The pure longing for family radiated from him in ways she sensed rather than heard.
"Lady Jane?" Bobby's voice broke through her reverie. "You've gone quite distant on us."
"Forgive me," Jane replied, blinking away her daydream. "My thoughts wandered."
"Mine do the same," Mary said earnestly, her small face serious beneath her cap as she folded another paper corner with careful precision. "Mother says it's unbefitting a noble daughter, but I can't seem to help it."
"Thinking deeply isn't something that requires forgiveness," Bobby told the little girl, helping her strengthen a delicate corner of her paper creation. "Some of humanity's greatest achievements began as wandering thoughts."
"Like what?" Katherine demanded, never one to accept statements without examples.
Bobby smiled. "Well, Sir Isaac—" He stopped himself, catching the anachronism before completing it. "That is, many natural philosophers believe Archimedes discovered the principle of displacement after observing his bathwater rise when he entered it. A simple observation leading to profound insight."
"Mother says Lady Jane thinks too much for a woman," Katherine said with the blunt honesty of fourteen. "That's why she caused so much trouble when she was queen."
Jane's face reddened. "Katherine!"
Bobby laughed. "Your sister's extraordinary mind is precisely what makes her exceptional." He tapped Mary's paper creation gently. "Press here to strengthen this corner. Yes, exactly like that."
"Will you teach your own children these things someday?" Mary asked innocently, looking up at him with wide eyes. "About kites and printing presses and greenhouses?"
Jane's breath caught at the question that had so closely mirrored her own thoughts.
"I would greatly enjoy teaching curious young minds," Bobby replied, his expression softening in a way Jane had rarely witnessed. "Children deserve answers that respect their intelligence without overwhelming their understanding."
The gentle patience with which he guided Mary's clumsy fingers through the paper-folding exercise spoke volumes. Here was a man who would never dismiss a child's questions as frivolous or unworthy of serious consideration, never shut down curiosity with demands for silent obedience. Jane found herself watching him with fresh appreciation, noting how naturally he transitioned between complex astronomical principles for her benefit and simplified explanations for nine-year-old Mary.
"Your daughter would be terribly clever," Katherine announced with the absolute confidence of adolescence. "With your cleverness and Jane's scholarly habits, she'd probably speak Greek before walking."
"Katherine!" Jane exclaimed again, horrified at her sister's presumption.
Bobby simply smiled. "An interesting hypothesis that would require testing."
"I think they would have lots of children," Mary declared, completing her paper creation. "Mother says clever people should have many babies to improve the family bloodline."
Jane wished desperately that the ground might open beneath her and spare her this mortification. "Mary, please—"
"There she is," came Frances Grey's voice from across the meadow, interrupting this increasingly uncomfortable conversation. "Girls! Your afternoon lessons begin shortly. Stop bothering His Grace with endless questions."
Katherine groaned dramatically. "But Mother, Duke Whitehaven is teaching us about scientific principles! That's educational!"
"More so than your Latin declensions, I'm certain," Frances replied dryly as she approached the group. "Nevertheless, Master Partridge awaits you both in the library. Mary, bring your kite if you wish to show him your handiwork."
The girls reluctantly gathered their things, Mary carefully holding her paper creation while Katherine cast longing glances at her larger kite still dancing in the breeze.
"Return after your lessons if you wish," Bobby told them kindly. "The wind should remain favorable until early evening."
"Will you still be here tomorrow?" Mary asked anxiously. "You won't leave without saying goodbye?"
"I'll be here tonight and tomorrow," Bobby assured her, something in his tone causing Jane to glance at him sharply. "And I shall visit often in the future. After all, you'll be like sisters to me eventually."
"Sisters-in-law," Katherine corrected with a knowing smirk before her mother silenced her with a stern look.
As the girls departed across the meadow with Frances, Jane noticed her mother's altered demeanor toward her—a subtle shift from the dismissive calculation of previous years to something approaching respect. Jane's outburst at breakfast had apparently transformed her mother's perception; no longer simply the pliable daughter without power, Jane now represented a woman who would soon command significant influence on her own right.
Better to play the role of supportive mother than antagonistic mother-in-law to the future Duchess Whitehaven.
"Your mother has reconsidered her approach," Bobby observed once Frances and the girls were beyond earshot. "Quite the strategic thinker, Lady Frances."
"She always adapts to changing circumstances," Jane agreed. "Though I confess I prefer this new manifestation of maternal regard, however cynically motivated."
Bobby stretched out on the blanket, propping himself on one elbow as he watched his kite maintain perfect position in the spring breeze. The sun caught golden highlights in his dark hair, and his relaxed posture looked utterly incongruous with his ducal status.
"You're remarkably good with children," Jane observed, gathering her courage to approach the subject that had occupied her thoughts. "As you were with me once, about three years ago when I was fourteen."
"You were never a child in the way Katherine and Mary are," Bobby replied. "Even at fourteen, you challenged scholars three times your age with perceptions they hadn't considered."
Jane smiled at the memory. "You were the first person who didn't treat me as a curious oddity—a girl unnaturally burdened with scholarly tendencies. You actually listened to my interpretation of Plato's allegory."
"Because it was brilliant," Bobby said simply. "Your insights regarding the broader social applications beyond traditional philosophical interpretations demonstrated remarkable perceptiveness."
The casual praise warmed Jane in ways that elaborate flattery never could. Bobby's straightforward acknowledgment of her intellect had been the first true connection between them—a foundation that had evolved into something far more complex over subsequent years.
She watched him reclining comfortably in the spring sunshine, this mysterious man who had appeared in England and upended everything from scientific understanding to royal succession. For all his extraordinary qualities, in this moment he appeared remarkably human—content simply to enjoy pleasant weather and her company without grand schemes or revolutionary innovations.
"I'd rather you not court my sisters the way you have so many others," Jane said suddenly, the words escaping before she could moderate them.
Bobby's head snapped toward her, genuine shock registering on his features. "I would never—" He stopped, seemingly at a loss for words, an unprecedented state for him. "Jane, they're children. Actual children."
"As was I," she pointed out, unsure why she'd raised this uncomfortable subject but unable to retreat now. "Not much older than Katherine when we first met."
"That was entirely different," Bobby replied, sitting upright with unusual abruptness. "You were never a child in the way they are, regardless of physical age. Your mind was already fully formed, your intellect extraordinary, your perception beyond any conventional measure of maturity." He shook his head, appearing genuinely disturbed by the implication. "I promise never to do anything that might inadvertently damage our relationship."
Jane studied his face, seeing the sincerity there. "I'm sorry. That was unfair of me. I know you would never..." She trailed off, embarrassed by her uncharacteristic display of jealousy.
"Besides," Bobby added more gently, "while Katherine and Mary are delightful young women deserving every opportunity for development, neither challenges my intellect as fiercely as a certain someone did at fourteen, questioning Aristotelian principles with exceptional clarity."
Jane's blush returned full force. "Stop that."
"Stop what?" Bobby asked, innocence poorly masking mischief in his expression. "Acknowledging your exceptional mind? I thought that was precisely what first attracted you to my company."
"It was," Jane admitted. "Though I've discovered other appreciable qualities since then."
Bobby grinned, stretching back on the blanket with catlike satisfaction. "Do tell, Lady Jane. I find myself immensely curious about these 'other qualities' you've identified."
Jane's flush deepened as memories of their encounters at Whitehaven surfaced—his fingers exploring intimate places with scientific precision, his mouth teaching her sensations she hadn't known existed. "You're deliberately trying to embarrass me."
"Succeeding admirably, it appears," Bobby observed, laughter dancing in his eyes. "Though that particular shade of pink quite becomes you."
Jane gathered her courage again. "Have you thought about children?" The question emerged more abruptly than she'd intended, but the afternoon's events had placed the topic firmly in her mind.
Something shifted in Bobby's expression—a fleeting shadow that wouldn't have been perceptible to anyone who didn't know him intimately. His eyes grew distant for the briefest moment before returning to their usual alert intelligence.
"Yes," he said simply, offering no elaboration.
Jane waited, but uncharacteristically, he added nothing further. "That's all? Just 'yes'?"
Bobby sighed, adjusting his position to look directly at her. "I would like many children. Dozens, if possible."
Jane's eyes widened in horror. "Dozens? I'm not a breeding machine! The physical toll alone would—" She stopped as she noticed the twinkle returning to his eyes. "You're teasing me."
"Only partially," Bobby admitted. "I genuinely would welcome many children. Though perhaps not all with the same mother."
"What?" Jane sat fully upright, genuinely scandalized.
Bobby's grin turned positively wicked. "They could be half-siblings, of course. Spread across different households with different mothers." He watched her expression with evident enjoyment. "I've established relationships with several notable families already. Lady Bedford has expressed interest in an arrangement. And the Countess of—"
Jane lunged forward to silence him, her hands reaching for his face in mock outrage. "Stop that immediately! I've heard about enough of your various connections at court."
Bobby caught her wrists easily, laughing as she made another unsuccessful attempt to cover his mouth. "I merely point out practical possibilities given societal conventions regarding noble bloodlines."
"I'll give you societal conventions," Jane retorted, struggling against his grip with increasing determination. "When I'm Duchess Whitehaven, you'll have no need for such 'arrangements.' I'll accommodate your desires thoroughly enough that you'll never look elsewhere."
The moment the words left her mouth, Jane froze in mortification. She had never spoken so boldly about intimate matters, not even during their private encounters at Whitehaven—those stolen moments in his study when his skilled fingers had taught her body sensations she'd never imagined possible.
Bobby's expression changed instantly, amusement transforming into something darker and more intense. His eyes darkened with the same look she'd seen in his private chambers when he'd first guided her hand beneath her own skirts, teaching her how her body could respond to deliberate touch.
"Will you indeed, Lady Jane?" His voice dropped to that deeper register that always sent shivers along her spine—the same tone he'd used when his mouth had explored the most intimate parts of her, bringing her to heights of pleasure that had left her trembling. "That's quite the promise from someone who's still learning the art of giving pleasure as well as receiving it."
Heat flooded Jane's face at the reference to their previous encounters—how she'd always been the recipient of his attentions, how he'd skillfully brought her to climax with his mouth and hands multiple times, yet she'd never reciprocated beyond passionate kisses. Not from unwillingness, but from inexperience and uncertainty.
"I'm a quick learner," Jane retorted, recovering her composure despite the burning in her cheeks. "You've said so yourself when your mouth was between my thighs."
The crude declaration shocked even her, but the flash of raw hunger in Bobby's eyes was worth any impropriety.
"Exceptionally quick," Bobby agreed, still holding her wrists in a gentle but unbreakable grip. "Though some lessons require extensive practical application for true mastery."
Jane twisted unexpectedly, using leverage rather than strength to break his hold—a move he'd actually taught her during one of their more playful encounters at Whitehaven. "Perhaps it's time I practiced some of those lessons. After all, I've observed your techniques quite... thoroughly."
Bobby's breath caught audibly. Gone was the calculated restraint he typically maintained during their intimate moments—the careful boundaries he'd established despite her increasingly transparent curiosity about the full extent of physical intimacy.
"Jane," he warned, voice rough with desire. "We're in an open meadow."
"And yet," she replied with newfound boldness, "your body doesn't seem particularly concerned with our location."
The hard evidence of his arousal pressed against her thigh made his physical response to their exchange unmistakable. Jane felt a surge of feminine power at this tangible proof of her effect on him—similar to what she'd experienced when he'd first allowed her to feel his hardness through his clothing during their more daring encounters at Whitehaven.
Bobby moved suddenly, recapturing her wrists and rolling them until she found herself pinned beneath him, the weight of his body a delicious pressure that both restrained and excited her.
"You've learned to provoke me quite effectively," he murmured, his lips hovering just above hers. "But have you learned when to stop?"
"I don't want to stop," Jane whispered, arching against him with deliberate intent. "I never want to stop with you."
Their mouths collided with none of the restrained patience of their previous kisses. This was raw, urgent—a physical manifestation of the desire they'd carefully controlled during their previous encounters. Jane moaned against his lips as his tongue conquered her mouth with the same thoroughness she imagined he would eventually use to claim the rest of her body.
His hand released one wrist to tangle in her hair, dislodging her cap completely as he deepened the kiss. Jane's freed hand clutched at his shoulder, drawing him closer as memories of their previous intimacies at Whitehaven flooded her mind—how he'd taught her to accept pleasure without shame, how attentively he'd studied her responses to determine exactly what brought her greatest satisfaction.
When they finally separated for breath, Jane's cap had fallen away completely, her copper hair spilling across the blanket in cardinal violation of proper decorum.
"I'll give you beautiful children," she whispered against his mouth, not fully understanding what drove her to make this declaration. "Brilliant children with your curiosity and my determination."
Bobby's expression flickered with something Jane couldn't quite identify—a shadow of sadness perhaps, gone so quickly she might have imagined it. His thumb traced the curve of her cheek with unexpected tenderness.
"Would you like that?" she pressed, suddenly uncertain at his silence. "Children of our own?"
Bobby rolled slightly to his side, keeping her partially beneath him while ensuring they remained decent despite their compromised position. Above them, their kite danced in lazy circles against the endless blue sky.
"More than anything," he finally admitted, his voice unusually raw. "Though perhaps we should secure the marriage before discussing the making of heirs."
Jane's cheeks flushed crimson. "Of course. I didn't mean to imply—"
"You implied exactly what we both want," Bobby interrupted, his lips brushing against her temple. "But I won't compromise your reputation, Jane. Not when you'll need every advantage as Duchess Whitehaven."
Despite his words, his hand wandered down her side, fingers tracing the curve of her waist through her gown with deliberate pressure. Jane's breath quickened as his thumb brushed the underside of her breast—not quite improper, yet far beyond what propriety would consider acceptable in an open meadow.
"How quickly could we marry?" she asked breathlessly, arching almost imperceptibly into his touch. "Before the coronation, surely?"
Bobby's eyes darkened at her eagerness. "Eager to become Lady Kestrel, aren't you?"
"Duchess Whitehaven," Jane corrected, tentatively placing her hand against his chest where she could feel his heart beating steadily beneath layers of expensive fabric. "And yes, I am. For entirely practical reasons, of course."
"Of course," Bobby agreed with mock solemnity. "Nothing to do with certain activities permitted only between husband and wife."
Jane's blush deepened impossibly further. "I simply meant that formal betrothal would silence gossip at court and give us freedom to... to..."
"To what, exactly?" Bobby prompted, clear amusement dancing in his eyes as he watched her struggle for appropriate phrasing.
Jane gathered her courage. "To explore certain aspects of marital relations that remain inappropriate before the wedding."
Bobby laughed—a genuine sound of delight that made Jane briefly forget her embarrassment. "Such scholarly phrasing," he teased, his fingers now tracing idle patterns against her side. "Always the careful student, even when discussing carnal matters."
"I haven't had much practice discussing such things," Jane protested, fighting the urge to hide her face against his shoulder.
"No, but you've had some practice experiencing them," Bobby reminded her, his voice dropping to that deeper register that never failed to send shivers down her spine.
The memory of their intimate encounters at Whitehaven surfaced vividly—his mouth between her thighs, his skilled fingers exploring places she'd never dared touch herself, teaching her body sensations that had left her gasping and shaking with release.
"Not enough practice," Jane whispered daringly, holding his gaze despite her burning cheeks. "I wish to learn everything you could teach me."
Bobby's expression changed, hunger flashing across his features before he mastered it. "The wedding must happen soon," he agreed, his hand resuming its exploration of her side, this time venturing slightly higher. "Though not for those reasons alone."
"What other reasons?" Jane asked, hypersensitive to his touch as his thumb now deliberately brushed the side of her breast.
"The coronation approaches," Bobby replied, watching her reactions with scientific precision. "I wish to have you properly established as my duchess before that event."
Jane bit her lip as his fingers traced a tantalizing pattern just beneath her breast. "Why before specifically? Wouldn't after be equally suitable?"
Bobby's expression turned enigmatic. "Let's just say certain... obligations might take me away from London following the coronation. I wish to have our union properly formalized before then."
Jane frowned slightly, instinctively sensing he wasn't telling her everything. "You mentioned leaving England before. Is that still your intention?"
"Not by choice," Bobby said carefully, his hand stilling against her side. "But there are forces beyond even my considerable control, Jane. Forces I've spent billions of..." He stopped abruptly. "Forces I've long studied without mastering."
Jane caught the slip but chose not to press it, sensing his reluctance. Instead, she focused on the practical concern. "Will I accompany you on these travels?"
Bobby didn't answer immediately. His gaze drifted upward to their kite, still soaring perfectly despite minimal attention. "That would be my greatest wish," he finally said. "Though circumstances may prove... challenging."
"I'm not afraid of challenges," Jane declared, reaching up to touch his face with newfound boldness. "Wherever you go, I wish to follow."
Bobby captured her hand, pressing a kiss against her palm that made her breath catch. "Enough of distant concerns," he murmured against her skin. "Let's focus on more immediate matters."
"Like what?" Jane asked, the innocent question belied by the breathless quality of her voice.
"Like how quickly we can arrange a wedding that satisfies both propriety and our mutual impatience," Bobby replied, releasing her hand to resume his exploration of her side. "Your father seems amenable to a spring ceremony, perhaps even before April ends."
"Not soon enough," Jane whispered, then blushed at her own boldness.
Bobby's eyes darkened with obvious hunger. "Impatient, Lady Jane? Eager to experience the full measure of marital relations?"
The deliberately provocative question hung between them. Jane knew the proper response would be demure denial or embarrassed silence. Instead, she found herself nodding, her eyes holding his despite the heat flooding her cheeks.
"I want to know what it feels like," she admitted softly. "To be joined with you completely. To learn all the things you've only hinted at during our... private sessions."
Bobby's control visibly frayed at her words. His hand slid up to cup her breast through her gown, the touch firm enough to send sparks of pleasure racing through her body despite the layers of fabric between skin and skin.
"You wish to know what awaits you on our wedding night?" he asked, voice dropping to a seductive murmur as his thumb found her nipple through the thick fabric. "What mysteries your scholarly mind hasn't yet explored?"
Jane gasped as he circled the sensitive peak, causing it to harden beneath her bodice. "Y-yes," she stammered, arching into his touch despite herself. "Please tell me."
Bobby leaned closer, his lips brushing against her ear as his fingers continued their maddening exploration of her breast. "First, I would undress you slowly," he whispered. "Unlacing your gown with deliberate patience until you're trembling with anticipation."
Jane's breath caught at both his touch and his words, her imagination vividly painting the scene he described.
"Your shift would follow," Bobby continued, his voice a hypnotic murmur against her ear. "Drawn over your head to reveal every inch of your beautiful body to my gaze." His hand squeezed gently, drawing a soft moan from her lips. "I would take my time looking at you—appreciating every curve, every shadow, every perfect detail."
Jane closed her eyes, losing herself in the scenario he wove with expert precision. His hand moved to her other breast, giving it equal attention through the restrictive fabric of her bodice.
"My hands would explore you just like this," he whispered, "but without these frustrating barriers between us. I would learn your body more thoroughly than any text you've ever studied." His voice dropped even lower. "And my mouth would follow wherever my hands ventured."
Jane bit her lip to suppress another moan as his fingers found her nipple, circling it through the fabric before capturing it between thumb and forefinger in a gentle pinch that sent lightning bolts of pleasure straight to her core.
"What would that feel like?" she asked breathlessly, beyond caring about propriety as desire clouded her scholarly mind. "Your mouth on my—my breasts?"
Bobby's grin turned wicked against her ear. "Warm and wet. My tongue would circle each nipple until they stood at attention like dutiful soldiers." His fingers demonstrated the circular motion he described, drawing another gasp from her parted lips. "Then I would suck them, one after the other, while my hands wandered lower."
Jane's legs shifted restlessly against the blanket as heat blossomed between her thighs. Though they'd engaged in intimate activities before, Bobby had never described them so explicitly—never painted such vivid pictures with words while simultaneously demonstrating his meaning through touch.
"Lower?" she prompted, unable to stop herself. "Where would your hands go?"
"Here," Bobby murmured, his free hand sliding down to rest on her stomach, still properly above her skirts yet somehow provocative in its positioning. "Then here." His hand moved to her hip, squeezing gently. "And finally..."
His hand hovered just above where her legs joined, not quite touching but close enough that Jane could feel heat radiating through her skirts. "Finally here," he whispered, "where I've already tasted your sweetness."
Jane's face flamed at the reference to their previous encounters, when his mouth had explored her most intimate places with shocking thoroughness. Yet embarrassment did nothing to diminish the desire pulsing through her veins.
"I would start by stroking you through your shift," Bobby continued, his hand mimicking the motion against her skirts without actually making contact with the aching place between her thighs. "Feeling how wet you've become for me, how ready your body is despite your mind's innocent uncertainty."
Jane's hips lifted slightly of their own accord, unconsciously seeking the touch he described. Bobby noticed immediately, his eyes darkening further at this evidence of her arousal.
"So responsive," he murmured appreciatively. "So eager to learn."
"What happens next?" Jane asked, her voice barely audible. "After the... touching."
Bobby's hand finally made contact, pressing lightly against her mound through her skirts. The pressure was nowhere near enough to satisfy the ache building there, yet Jane gasped as though he'd touched her bare skin.
"I would remove the last barrier between us," he explained, working her skirts slightly higher while maintaining a watchful eye on their surroundings. "Lifting your shift to expose your pretty pink cunt to my gaze."
The crude word should have offended her, but instead it sent a fresh wave of heat flooding through Jane's body. She'd never heard such language from a nobleman, certainly never directed at her.
"Before claiming you completely," Bobby continued, his hand now resting on her thigh, her skirts worked up just enough to allow this slightly improper contact, "I would ensure you're ready. My fingers would explore you thoroughly, just as they did at Whitehaven."
Jane remembered all too vividly—his skilled fingers parting her folds, discovering sensitive places she hadn't known existed, bringing her to shattering release multiple times before she even understood what was happening to her body.
"But this time," he whispered, "instead of stopping at that preliminary pleasure, I would position myself between your legs."
His hand slid higher on her thigh, not quite reaching her center but close enough that Jane fought the urge to spread her legs wider in shameless invitation.
"My cock would press against your entrance," Bobby described with deliberate crudeness, watching her reaction carefully. "Hard and thick, stretching you carefully as I claim your maidenhood."
Jane's breath came in short gasps now, her body responding to his graphic description as though he were actually performing the acts he described. She could feel wetness gathering between her thighs, her pulse thundering in her ears.
"Would it hurt?" she asked, unable to disguise the mixture of curiosity and apprehension in her voice.
"There would be discomfort at first," Bobby acknowledged, his hand moving in slow circles on her inner thigh, gradually working higher. "A brief pain as your body accommodates mine. But I would be gentle, Jane. Patient." His fingers brushed tantalizingly against the edge of her undergarments. "I would wait until your body adjusted before beginning to move inside you."
Jane swallowed hard, imagining the sensation he described—his considerable size stretching her, filling her completely. "And then?"
"Then," Bobby murmured, finally allowing his fingers to brush lightly against her center through the thin fabric of her undergarments, "I would begin to thrust. Slowly at first, letting you grow accustomed to the feeling of being filled."
His touch was feather-light, barely making contact with the aching bud at her center, yet Jane had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. Her hips lifted instinctively, seeking firmer contact.
"Gradually," Bobby continued, maintaining that maddening gentle touch, "I would increase the pace. Harder. Deeper." Each word was punctuated by slightly firmer pressure. "Until you were gasping beneath me, your legs wrapped around my waist, taking every inch of my cock into your tight pussy."
The vulgarity of his language paired with the delicacy of his touch created a devastating combination. Jane's eyes flew open, meeting his gaze with shocked arousal that only intensified when she saw the hunger there.
"I would fuck you thoroughly," Bobby whispered, abandoning all pretense of genteel language. "Claiming you completely as my wife. My fingers would find this spot—" His touch finally pressed directly against her clit through the damp fabric. "—ensuring your pleasure matched my own."
Jane gasped, unable to contain the sound as his finger circled the sensitive bundle of nerves. Despite the barriers of fabric between them, the sensation was extraordinary.
"The pressure would build," Bobby continued relentlessly, his fingers working in small circles against her, "just like it did when my mouth was between your legs. That tightening inside you, that climbing sensation..."
Jane recognized the description—the same building tension she'd experienced during their previous encounters, when his skilled mouth and hands had brought her to peaks of pleasure she hadn't known possible. Already she could feel it starting, that inexorable climb toward something magnificent.
"But this time," Bobby whispered, his fingers increasing their pressure slightly, "when you reach that crest, I would be inside you. Feeling your cunt tightening around my cock as pleasure devastates you completely."
The crude description paired with his skilled touch pushed Jane closer to the edge. Her breathing grew ragged, her thighs tensing as the familiar sensation built rapidly within her.
"I would fill you," Bobby continued, his own voice growing rougher as he watched her approaching climax. "Mark you from within as mine completely. And perhaps—" His fingers circled faster, matching the rhythm he described. "—perhaps plant the seed of those children you promised me."
That final image—Bobby spilling himself inside her, potentially creating life between them—pushed Jane over the edge. Her climax hit with surprising force given the relative indirectness of his touch. She pressed her face against his shoulder to muffle her cry, her body shuddering beneath his skilled fingers as pleasure washed through her in relentless waves.
Bobby continued his gentle ministrations, drawing out her pleasure until she whimpered with oversensitivity. Only then did he withdraw his hand, smoothing her skirts back into place with careful attention to propriety despite the decidedly improper activity they'd just engaged in.
As Jane's breathing gradually steadied, she became aware of Bobby's unwavering gaze—intense, appreciative, and filled with genuine wonder.
"You're extraordinarily responsive," he murmured, brushing a strand of copper hair from her flushed face. "So beautifully uninhibited in your pleasure."
Jane felt she should be mortified by what had just occurred—allowing such intimate liberties in an open meadow where anyone might have observed them. Yet she couldn't summon appropriate shame through the lingering glow of satisfaction.
"Is it always like that?" she asked softly, still slightly dazed. "When it's... complete? When you're actually inside?"
Bobby smiled, an expression hovering between tenderness and hunger. "It can be even more intense," he promised. "When there's nothing between us, when I can feel every inch of you surrounding me..." He paused, visibly reining in his desire. "But that pleasure awaits our wedding night."
Jane's gaze dropped to the obvious bulge in his breeches—clear evidence of his arousal despite his refusal to seek his own release. "What about you?" she asked hesitantly. "You're still..."
"I'll survive," Bobby replied with wry humor. "Unlike some men, I'm capable of rational thought even in this condition."
Jane bit her lip, gathering courage to voice the question that had been building since their first intimate encounter at Whitehaven. "Will you teach me how to please you? As you've pleased me?"
Bobby's breath caught audibly. "Jane..."
"I want to learn," she insisted, newfound boldness emerging in the aftermath of pleasure. "I want to know how to touch you, how to make you feel what you've made me feel."
For a moment, Bobby seemed genuinely at a loss for words—an unprecedented occurrence in Jane's experience. Finally, he cupped her face in his hands, his expression surprisingly vulnerable.
"You already please me more than you could possibly understand," he said softly. "Your brilliant mind, your courageous heart, your willingness to see beyond conventional boundaries—those things bring me pleasure beyond physical satisfaction."
Jane leaned into his touch. "That's not what I meant."
"I know," Bobby acknowledged with a slight smile. "And yes, after we're married, I'll teach you everything. Every touch, every technique, every secret of physical pleasure." His thumb traced her lower lip gently. "But not here. Not in this meadow where anyone might witness us."
Jane nodded, understanding the wisdom of his restraint despite her lingering curiosity. "I'll hold you to that promise."
"I expected nothing less," Bobby replied, his smile widening. "The scholar in you will demand thorough education, I'm certain."
They lapsed into comfortable silence, Bobby helping Jane rearrange her disheveled appearance into something approaching respectability. Her cap was retrieved, her hair tidied, her skirts smoothed with careful attention to propriety. Throughout these ministrations, Bobby maintained an expression of tender amusement, as though her mussed appearance delighted him despite the potential scandal it represented.
"So innocent," he murmured as he carefully pinned her cap back in place. "Yet so naturally responsive to pleasure."
Jane flushed at the observation, though pride rather than embarrassment colored her reaction. "I have an excellent teacher."
"The best," Bobby agreed without false modesty, his fingers lingering against her cheek. "And soon, you'll have me as husband as well as instructor."
The simple statement sent a thrill through Jane that rivaled her recent physical pleasure. Soon she would be Lady Kestrel, Duchess Whitehaven—wife to the most extraordinary man in England. The title would bring prestige, certainly, but more importantly, it would grant her the freedom to build a life based on intellectual partnership rather than political calculation.
"I cannot truly live without you," Jane whispered, the words emerging unbidden yet undeniably true. "Your presence, your being has become my entire world."
Bobby didn't respond immediately. Instead, his attention shifted subtly past her shoulder, his expression changing almost imperceptibly. Following his gaze, Jane turned to discover her father standing at the meadow's edge, watching their intimate tableau with calculatively interest.
"Your father appears to be monitoring our interaction," Bobby observed quietly, shifting to a more proper distance on the blanket. "Likely ensuring I maintain appropriate respect for his daughter despite our evident attachment."
Jane sighed, the magical bubble of their intimate conversation effectively punctured by her father's surveillance. "He's always been protective in his way," she murmured. "Though his definition of 'protection' generally aligns with his political interests rather than my personal well-being."
Above them, the kite continued its perfect dance against the blue spring sky, a reminder of the simple joy they'd shared before conversation had turned to more intimate matters. Bobby studied it for a moment, his expression softening into something Jane couldn't quite interpret—a mixture of contentment and melancholy that made little sense given their recent pleasure.