A British Courtesan in America (Revolutionary Women Book 2)

by Becky Lower

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Hawk’s hand wandered down Libby’s naked body, pausing at the dip of her waistline before caressing her hip. She stretched luxuriously into his hand and opened her blue eyes, staring at him without saying a word. His hand slipped to the apex of her legs, and she opened to him. Once again. He cupped her sex bundle, warming it, then rubbed the little nub between his thumb and forefinger, listening for the purr that he would forever associate with her. His Libby. His at last.

  They had not left Libby’s rented room in Lancaster for two days, other than to grab some food. And even though he was hungry, he was starving for more lovemaking with Libby. His fingers plunged into her willing body and her purr morphed into a moan of delight as her body rose to meet his hand. His mouth strayed from her lips, searing a column of kisses down her neck ending at her bosom. Her spectacular bosom. His mouth covered a nipple, teasing it until she squirmed.

  Not content with his fingers having all the fun, he spun her around, and she rose to her knees, positioning his manhood at her entrance, damp and ready for him. He could feel her inner walls pulsating with impending climax and he plunged into her a few more times. As she crested and let out a long moan, he spilled his seed before she collapsed on top of him.

  Libby raised her head. “Good morning, love.”

  He brushed the hair from her eyes. “Are you happy?”

  “You are the most exciting man I’ve ever been with. So yes, I’m thrilled to have you in my bed, Hawk.”

  “Even more than Mr. Wexford?” Hawk still had trouble believing his good fortune.

  “Atticus was a kind and sweet man who loved me and who wished to take care of me. Had he lived, I would have willingly married him and lived comfortably as his wife.” Libby nibbled on Hawk’s cheek and neck as she spoke. “But he never affected me in quite the same way you do, Hawk. I get damp just looking at you. Twenty years from now, I will still get damp just looking at you.”

  Hawk captured her lips and shared a kiss. “It is time for us to head for home, then. My first child must be born in Boston.”

  Libby laughed, and Hawk grinned. “So, you feel you are so all powerful that with just two days of lovemaking, you’ve gotten me with child?”

  Hawk caressed her breast, flicking his thumb over her nipple, which instantly peaked anew and her breath caught in her throat. “It has been some powerful lovemaking, non?”

  “Oui. Wolliwon, Hawk. Thank you for giving me what I was missing.” She rose from the bed and started to lay out her clothing for the carriage ride back to Boston. She held up two different shoes. “Which do you prefer?”

  He motioned her closer to take a better look, then flipped her onto the mattress again. “I prefer you naked and shoeless.” The shoes dropped to the floor as she stroked him, making his member spring to life again. He tipped her back into the mattress and rose over her. “Your touch leaves me breathless, madam.”

  “As yours does me, Hawk.” She delved her fingers into his hair, drawing him to her. “Take me again.”

  He quickly mounted her, driving himself into her depths with a ferocity that made the bed quake. She let out a long sigh that ended in his name as she climaxed. He wrapped his arms around her body, and they laid quietly while their breathing returned to normal.

  “Hawk, we must get on the coach today. You have editorials to write for the paper, and I have to find a cobbler who can work with me on turning my designs into fine footwear.” She rose from the bed again and picked up her shoes.

  Hawk finally got out of the bed as well. “Yes, we must. We have a war to fight. And now that I have you, and possibly a babe to fight for, the war is worth the hardship. Patterson will be pleased.”

  Libby folded her night rail after picking it up from the floor. “Why will Patterson be pleased?”

  Hawk picked up his discarded shirt before he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her once more and fondling her breast. He smiled as her breath caught and she molded her naked body up against him. “He told me to go find my woman, because a woman and children made the war effort make sense. And unless I miss my guess, the war is only getting started.”

  “So, we’ll fight. And we will raise the first generation of Americans.” She wrapped her arms around Hawk’s waist and tugged him close. “Patterson was right. A good man, and children, make the war worth it. I declared my independence when I arrived on the shores of this country. I’ll do my part to make this country independent now.”

  Hawk hoisted Libby off her feet. “Glad to hear it. And I am glad you have decided not to become Amish. You are way too fancy for these plain people.” He dropped her to the bed again. Their journey back to Boston could wait another day.

  “Hawk, we must return to Boston.” Even as she said the words, her fingers wove into his hair and she drew him in. He laid beside her, running his hand lightly over the curves and valleys of her body. By now, he had kissed every inch of her, but it was still not enough. He positioned himself between her legs, inhaling her scent of rose attar and her womanly sexual odor. He was bewitched as she spread her legs, welcoming his touch. Welcoming his mouth.

  He charted a course up her inner thigh, kissing her lightly. When he got to the apex of her legs, he breathed in her scent but didn’t touch her. He began tracing a path down the thigh of her other leg.

  She let out a small noise and plunged her hands into his hair, attempting to draw him back to her most sensitive area. He needed no further encouragement. His tongue dipped into her folds, lapping up the moisture he found there. He stiffened his tongue and plunged it into her as she rose off the bed to meet him. His mouth then found her sex bud and he covered it, alternately sucking and rubbing his tongue over it.

  Libby let out a long moan as she began to crest once more. He inserted his fingers into her in order to feel her inner muscles pulse as she plunged over the edge and fell back on the mattress, gasping. He raised himself over her and rubbed his hardened shaft along her folds, pleased that she was again becoming damp.

  Once he was well-primed, he entered her slowly, waiting for her to once again become excited. She stared into his eyes and rose from the bed to meet his thrusts as they set up a now familiar rhythm. Her legs wrapped around his waist and he grabbed her buttocks, plunging into her again and again.

  He would never get enough of this woman, regardless of how many years they spent together. Which was just fine with him. He cried out as his seed spilled into her once more. Slowly, he ceased pulsing, rolled to her side, and gasped for breath. Slowly, sounds from outside the room registered and they listened as a large coach rolled away from the front door.

  “It appears we have missed today’s coach.” Hawk grinned. “Whatever shall we do with the rest of the day?”

  Libby rolled on top of him, her long blond hair covering them like a blanket. “I can think of a few things. It’s my turn to pleasure you.” She began at the crown of his head and slowly kissed her way down. Hawk laid back on the bed, feasting his eyes on what she was doing as his shaft sprung to life, arousing him when he thought it was impossible to get excited again so quickly, especially after two solid days of lovemaking. He wrapped her locks around his hand and held her in place over his manhood as she brought him to heights he had never experienced with anyone else. Which was just fine with him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  September 1778

  Hawk was right. Despite accepting help from the French, the war for America’s freedom from the British waged on. General Clinton had replaced the British General Howe early in the year, and the British left Philadelphia and returned to New York, spreading southward with their battles. But victory was a long way off for either side, as the Americans had dug in their heels.

  Libby worked alongside Hawk most evenings, melting lead and silver to use as bullets for the cause. Her shoe store was causing a sensation in Boston, and for each pair of intricate slippers she sold, she used some of her profit to procure a pair of work boots from Abel Yode
r for the soldiers in the Continental Army. Her contribution to the cause of freedom was small, but she could work alongside her husband and the evenings were hers and Hawk’s alone. Hawk continued to write his editorials for the Gazette, keeping those who fought for their freedom encouraged that this was not a lost cause, and that America could become a great nation once their goal was attained. So, the war dragged on.

  Hawk was right about more than the war, though. The days they spent in Lancaster, never straying far from the bed, did create a babe. Libby ran her finger over the soft cheek of little George Washington Gentry as her eyes filled with tears. He was only hours old. Libby held him to her breast, her breath hitching as he suckled. She raised her gaze from her son when the door to the bedroom opened.

  Hawk, her beautiful mate and exquisite lover, strode into the room with hot meat pies for them. He placed the food on the small table, and he took the few steps to her side, leaning down for a kiss.

  “You are a beautiful mother, a beautiful wikuwossit, mon coeur.”

  She handed the baby to him and buttoned her night rail. “And a hungry wikuwossit, as well. It’s your turn to hold him so I can eat.”

  Hawk took a seat opposite her at the table, cradling his son. “I can eat and hold him at the same time. My first child, my nicanol.”

  Libby’s eyes filled with tears anew as she gazed at the two men she loved more than she ever expected to love any man. True, she’d loved Atticus, and would always have a soft spot in her heart for him. If not for his gift, she never could have made the voyage to a new country, to a new life. A life that had delivered her here, to this moment in time.

  But she’d never known the passion, the excitement, the heart-swelling emotion she experienced each time Hawk touched her. Each time he caressed her with his gaze. Each time he kissed her. She would share the burden of battling the British for her new country’s freedom. Her baby, and the babies to come, would grow strong and free in America, and would make this country the shining example of democracy for the rest of the world to follow.

  Libby sighed as she devoured the last of the succulent chicken pie. Hawk glanced up from the baby with a furrow between his brows.

  “Are you in pain, still?” He stretched a hand across the table and held hers.

  “No, it was a happy sigh. The pain of childbirth is receding.” She smiled at little George, sleeping contentedly in the strong arm of his father. Then, she raised her gaze to her husband. “Did you run into Patterson while you were out?”

  Hawk smiled. “Oui. He is a changed man, since Margaret died giving birth to little Elizabeth. He feared you might encounter the same fate. But it pleased him when I told him the news of our son. And, of course, it pleased him when I told him he was right. Having a woman and child makes the war take on a higher purpose. With a name like George Washington, our child must grow up free from the tyranny of any king.”

  “I hope Patterson can find someone new, when the time is right. Five children are too many for him to raise on his own, in addition to fighting a war.” Libby’s heart ached for Hawk’s friend, even as she counted her own blessings.

  Libby returned Hawk’s smile. She’d come a long way from being Fancy Booker. She’d taken on a new name with each step her life had taken, and now had stripped them away, as if peeling an onion. London had referred to her as Anjanette Shelby. When she’d come to America, she’d taken on the name of Liberty Wexford, borrowing her benefactor’s last name. Then, among the Amish, she had melded her past into something old and something new, becoming Liberty Booker. And now, that she’d made it to the sweet core of the onion, somehow, Liberty Gentry was exactly the name she was meant to have. She may have been running from her past when she arrived on the shores of America, but to her delight, she’d run straight into her future.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Amazon best-selling author Becky Lower has traveled the United States in search of great settings for her novels. She loves to write about two people finding each other and falling in love amid the backdrop of a great historical setting. Her books have been featured in USA Today’s Happy Ever After section on nine separate occasions. Becky loves to hear from her readers at beckylowerauthor@gmail.com. Visit her website at www.beckylowerauthor.com.

  Some of Becky’s Books