by Jen YatesNZ
He stopped the steady, arousing strokes of the cloth and pressed the heel of his hand down over that sensitive spot she was unable to deny.
Then he removed the towel to clean himself and say musingly, ‘I probably shouldn’t tease you, for if I have you again so soon after the first time it may be uncomfortable for you. So—certainly, you may go home now—my Wicked Wench.’
As Jane moved to flounce off the bed, he caught her wrist and showed her the towel.
‘Only a tiny smear of blood, my love. You might have got away without setting up this delightful interlude tonight, since by now there was possibly little evidence of your virginity left, and since I’d totally neglected that area of my sexual education! You probably could have saved your money!’ he needled, smoky eyes dancing in that taunting way familiar from their youth. ‘Though Knight’s orphanages will be very grateful. All profits from this place go to his orphanages, you know.’
‘I was told that,—Bax the Cad,’ she threw at him, and this time he let her leave the bed.
Sprawling back, hands clasped behind his head displaying his full naked, masculine glory, he was temptation on a plate.
Too many people already knew of her wickedness and though Holly had been openly pushing her in this direction, she now felt unaccountably shy about disclosing what many would consider her ‘fall from grace’.
Not that Holly would see it in those terms. It was herself she had to convince she need feel no shame in finally, at the age of thirty, allowing a man to show her pleasure.
Turning her back on those watching, hooded eyes, she pulled her chemise over her head and began tying it in place.
‘You have a heart-stopping arse, Angular Jane.’
Don’t respond. Thank goodness she’d not worn her stays. Picking up the front-fastening gown, she dragged it on and began fastening buttons.
‘Allow me,’ Hades purred, stepping in front of her to push aside her fumbling fingers.
Naked and smelling of warm, sexy man, a scent she’d always associate with this night, he was too much. It was criminal such a work of art must be concealed with clothes. She longed to touch, caress, feel every magnificent inch of him—and wanted to kill every other woman who’d had that privilege in the past, or might do so in the future!
Angela Jane Bracewell, get a grip! That way lies madness! As surely as the sun would rise again in a few hours, there’d be other women who’d be offered every privilege and pleasure she’d enjoyed this night.
Warm lips touched her eyelids.
‘Mmm, Angular Jane, you smell of warm orange blossom and sex. Divine! Touch me. You know you want to. And goddammit, I want you to!’
‘Hades, please don’t tease me,’ she whispered. ‘I have to go.’
‘Not yet, Jane. There’s at least three hours to sunrise. What will I do for the rest of the night if you leave me now?’
‘Sleep,’ she muttered, pulling out of his grip before opening her eyes to hunt for her shoes and slip her feet into them.
Snatching up her cloak, she swung it round her shoulders and moved towards the bell-pull in the corner of the room.
Suddenly enveloped in strong, naked arms, she was pressed down onto the chaise and held in place by his hands on her shoulders.
‘Please stay a while longer, Jane. I’ll dress and we can talk. Then I’ll see you home.’
The solemnity of his voice was a strange contrast to the wicked anomaly of his naked form leaning over her. She’d not been looking forward to walking alone through the dark lanes from the corner of Hill Street, to preserve her anonymity from the coachman.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured huskily. Dear God, she wanted to touch him one more time! Reminding herself there’d hopefully be many more chances to do so, she added, ‘Get dressed—please!’
Laughing softly, he stepped away to comply and Jane was no more successful at keeping the hot color from her cheeks than she was at keeping her eyes from following his every move.
***
Stomping and tugging, he finally had his boots on and sat back on the bed to observe Jane perched on the edge of the chaise, hands clasped primly in her lap. In the soft candlelight her cheeks glowed and her eyes, pools of liquid topaz, were alight with desire despite an innocent air of shyness. He was looking forward to watching her grow in confidence in her femininity and her appeal for him.
How soon before she’d be the one to proposition him, confident of her allure?
And he was bloody well allured! Like never before.
‘Come sit beside me, Jane. You’re too far away.’
‘I need to go—’
‘We need to talk first. Then I promise to see you home. Come.’
She rose, her eyes never leaving his, and came to the bed. Reaching for her hand, he drew her down to his side.
‘What now,’ he asked, twining his fingers with hers. ‘What did you plan to do next once you were rid of your virginity?’
‘Hah!’ Instead of blushing at his question as he’d imagined, she pulled her hand from his and turned a belligerent countenance towards him. ‘In my plans you had no idea of—all this!’ She waved her hand vaguely about the room. ‘I’d imagined we’d go on as before and—you—’
‘Would continue to seduce you until you finally gave in?’
‘I guess—yes!’
Slipping his arms around her shoulders, he pulled her close.
‘There really isn’t any time for that plan, for the season is finished. Are you not due to leave for Pountney—then Rotherby—on Thursday?’
‘Yes.’
‘Must you return immediately to Rotherby?’
‘What—are you thinking?’
‘That you could detour to The Chase. It’s not much out of your way. You could stay in the Stone Cottage, and I’d stay at The Chase itself.’
‘You—wouldn’t stay—at the cottage with me?’
Her face clouded with disappointment and before he could stop himself he leant in to dab a kiss to the end of her nose.
‘Oh—I—would,’ he growled. ‘We just wouldn’t advertise the fact. We should make some effort to preserve your reputation, my love.’
‘Oh. Do you wish me to try some healing with your friend?’
‘Captain Dorset? Absolutely! Why else would I invite you to The Chase?’ he asked, loading his voice with innocence and raising his eyebrows at her.
She rewarded him with a gurgle of laughter and a relaxing of the tension through her body.
‘I’ll need to send Dolly to Rotherby for my crystals.’
‘You trust your maid?’
‘Implicitly. She’s to sneak down and unlatch the French window in the garden parlor so I can get back in!’
He chuckled.
‘Better raise her pay!’
Slowly he drew her into his arms and kissed his way from her forehead, down her nose to the beautiful generous, curvy mouth he was hoping someday soon to have wrapped around his cock. Damn!
‘Come then. I’ll see you home.’
Chapter 15
The Chase was a beautiful old stone manor house set on a knoll in the center of a rolling, grassy park dotted with ancient oaks, elms and peacefully grazing deer.
As they rolled by, Jane watched for her first glimpse of the Stone Cottage, her ‘sinful hideaway’ for the next few weeks, and a certain over-large, over-sexy Lord.
Her heart danced crazily in her chest as the man who loomed so large in her thoughts, ducked through the arched stone doorway of the prettiest two-storey cottage she’d ever seen. With mullioned windows, numerous spires, curlicues under the eaves and gargoyles and other fanciful creatures carved onto bosses, Jane was instantly enthralled.
But only for a moment. The Great Bax, looking somewhat incongruous issuing from a house more suited to a fairy queen, stole all her attention.
By the time he opened the carriage door to assist her to alight, she was scarcely breathing.
‘Welcome to The Chase, Lady Rotherby.’
The formal address was totally at odds with the casual state of his attire and the devilish gleam in his eyes.
Lady Rotherby.
With her hand clasped in his she had difficulty remembering who Lady Rotherby was, let alone how she was supposed to act.
Once her feet were firmly on the ground he stepped back, bowed low, turned her hand and pressed his mouth to the gap between the glove buttons. His lips were warm and she’d swear she felt them curving in a grin. When he straightened his eyes were smoldering.
‘It’s been a long week,’ he growled softly, tucking her hand through his arm and turning towards the arched entryway. ‘Lost your tongue, my love?’
‘Yes,’ she said simply, and his deep chuckle vibrated to her core.
When he looked down at her the wicked gleam in his eyes flared like a naked flame. Jane swallowed then gripped his arm tighter. Something had to keep her upright for her legs were suddenly useless.
A one-legged man leaning on a crutch appeared in the doorway. Behind him stood two taller, apparently able-bodied men, who nevertheless showed little animation.
‘One thing before I introduce you. I’m known as Captain Jack here, or mostly just Captain. Do you think you can remember to address me as such?’
‘Of course, Captain,’ she responded, topaz eyes dancing. ‘And I shall be Mrs.—um—Doolittle!’
‘Do little? Oh no, my dear. I intend for you to do so very much! Therefore I shall introduce you as Mrs. Mutch! Captain Jack and Mrs. Mutch! Has quite a ring to it, don’t you think?’
‘They sound like a ramshackle pair of sharpers!’
‘Perfect then! Come and meet the staff, Mrs. Mutch. They’re agog to meet you. You’re the first woman I’ve invited here and the first to stay at Stone Cottage. I’ll introduce you to them and we—can have tea in the study. All right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Mrs. Mutch, this is Rogers. He’s the housekeeper, the butler, and all-around caretaker of Stone Cottage. And these,’ he said, indicating the two silent men behind Rogers, ‘are his right-leg men, Harris and Roach.’
Rogers bobbed his head and managed to touch his forelock without letting go of his crutch.
‘T’is honored we are, mum, and I speak for my two right legs here, as they don’t speak much for themselves. But they understand most anything, mum, so they’ll fetch anything you need—or me, if they can’t work it out. Isn’t that right, my two right legs?’
Harris’s stoic expression softened into a grimaced effort at a smile and he pointed to Rogers’ pinned, empty trouser leg, then to himself and raised one finger. Then pointing to Roach, he raised two fingers.
‘That’s right, Harris, my man,’ Rogers said. ‘You’re Right Leg Number one, and Roach is Right Leg Number Two. Eh, Roach?’
With no change of expression, the man nodded.
‘And who’s the Cap’n here, Legs?’
Both men saluted Bax, whose pride in the simple achievement of the two men was plain to see.
Saluting them back, he said, ‘Bring Mrs. Mutch’s luggage in, lads. You know where you’re going to put it?’
Both pointed down the hall.
‘Well done,’ he said. ‘Rogers, could we have the tea trolley in the study—in fifteen minutes?’
‘Yes, sir, Cap’n, sir!’ the little man said, saluting as best he could, black eyes twinkling. These men adored their ‘Cap’n’.
As they went off about their tasks, Hades guided her into the first room on the left, closing the door firmly at their backs.
‘Now, woman,’ he growled, swinging her into his arms and across the room to a large leather couch under the window. Falling with her onto it, he pulled the bonnet from her head, dropped it on the floor, and fastened his mouth to hers.
Her fingers laced through his hair and she kissed him back with a need frightening in its intensity. Their tongues delved and danced, tasting and savoring each other’s desire.
Laying her back against the arm of the couch, Hades left her lips to trail open-mouthed kisses down her jaw and neck, and into the valley between her breasts. Hampered by the buttons of her travelling gown he reached to unfasten the first one and Jane regained some semblance of sense.
‘Stop!’ she whispered huskily. ‘Hades, stop. R—Rogers will be here in a minute with the tea trolley.’
Pushing herself upright on his lap, she straightened her bodice then looked at him. His hands now rested, one on her back and the other on her thigh, and his head lay against the back of the couch as he regarded her from beneath lowered lids. A large somnolent cat came to mind, until one noted the decidedly feral gleam in the storm-colored eyes.
She couldn’t look away. Indeed, if he kept looking at her like that she’d probably allow him to do whatever he wished with her person—regardless—
Slowly he glided his hands up to bring her mouth back to his.
This kiss was slow, gentle, and as arousing as the first. His lips wrought a sensual magic she couldn’t hope to resist.
When she pulled back to gaze breathless and compliant down at him, he gently lifted her back to her feet and slowly unfolded his length from the couch to stand beside her.
‘I should’ve told him to bring the tea in an hour.’
Retrieving her bonnet from where he’d unceremoniously dropped it, he gently restored the abused article to her head, smoothed a curl off her cheek and tied the ribbons as deftly as any nanny.
Jane touched the soft skin at the base of his throat, exposed since he wasn’t wearing a neck-cloth. Slowly she drew her fingers down the buttons of his shirt, aware that he watched and waited to see what she’d do.
She was wondering that herself. She’d never touched James in this way—like lovers, with a kind of teasing intent or promise—of more. The freedom to do so, and that Hades might expect her to, was heady.
***
Coquetry incarnate.
And as innocently natural as wee Mary, Celia’s youngest. The warm brown of her eyes flared and danced into flames and all hint of innocence vanished.
Temptation incarnate.
Would she undo that button her finger was resting on? Should he let her? Her hands on his body were an enticement he doubted he could resist. And while he’d been determined she’d spend time with him here at The Chase, he was not such a cad as to make it obvious to one and all she was here as his mistress. She was too fine a woman for him to sully her reputation quite so thoroughly.
He closed one hand over hers on his chest.
‘Later, my beautiful Jane. It kills me to say so, but,’ and he pulled her body into his until she could have no doubt how much pain he was suffering, ‘for the sake of your reputation I intend to be the perfect gentleman—until we can be alone. And then my lovely temptress, then—’
‘When?’
Her voice was husky, deeper than usual and he knew her impatience as great as his.
‘Tonight, after dinner. You’ll retire and I’ll return to my lonely room at The Chase—apparently. I’ll be wandering the grounds until you snuff the candle on the dresser by the window. That’ll tell me you’ve dismissed your maid and locked the door! Unlatch the French window and I’ll be there.’
Her other hand came up to clasp his for a moment, then with a lowering of her lashes and a dip of her head, she stepped back to survey the room.
‘Manly,’ she declared, which made him laugh.
‘What can I say? Men live here?’
He tried to see it through her eyes. A large, well-used oak desk with a worn leather chair either side for consultations with Rogers or his farm manager, or Tonks, the overseer at The Chase itself. There was one wall of floor-to-ceiling shelves, which held a few books on farming or medicine, but were otherwise utilized for the storage of account books, spare bottles of ink, uncut quills, sketch books and a collection of sketching pencils. There was not one feminine touch in the room, not even a cushion on the settee.
‘Men don’t like color? Or a bit of comfort?’ she
asked. ‘Is the rest of the place this dreary?’
Where had his teasing siren gone? This Jane was pure Lady of the Manor.
‘You’ve scarcely set foot in the place and you want to redecorate already?’
She searched his face a moment before answering, as if to ascertain whether he was annoyed by her criticism.
‘It occurs to me,’ she said slowly, ‘your gentlemen might heal—or at least do better—in brighter, more uplifting surroundings.’
‘They might,’ he agreed, wondering why he hadn’t thought of something that obvious himself. ‘Maybe when we do a tour of The Chase you’ll have a few ideas? This place doesn’t matter so much. It’s where I usually doss down when I’m here, and see to business.—Won’t you have a seat?’
He directed her to the chair on the far side of the desk and seated himself opposite. ‘I didn’t mean to criticize,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s—what you’re doing here is wonderful. All the staff you’ve rescued from the streets, old soldiers with no war to fight even if they were able. But perhaps a woman’s touch, a woman’s presence is what’s missing? Do you not think they’d try harder if there were a few women about?’
‘Probably lead to problems of a different kind. Just because their minds are damaged doesn’t mean their bodies are!’
Color tinged her cheeks.
‘You’re right, of course. When will you show me around?’
‘I’ll take you this afternoon unless you need to have a rest after your journey?’
He couldn’t help smiling at how her chin came up at that suggestion.
‘Do I look like a fragile flower?’ she demanded. ‘I want to see everything, and I want to meet Captain Dorset—and the others.’
‘Do you have your healing crystals with you?’
‘No. I’m sending Dolly back to Rotherby tomorrow to fetch them, along with the herbs I left curing in the distillery—and some supplies so I can prepare more here if needed.’
‘How long will you stay? I’m beginning to think I might never let you leave.’
Her golden-eyed gaze was expressionless for a moment, then she seemed to snap herself back from some place his question had transported her, and said evenly, ‘I can give you a month. By then it should be obvious whether I can help Captain Dorset or not. And you—we—will probably be heartily sick of each other and—um—glad to part company.’