by Unknown
“Colin,” she said in a husky voice. “I believe I am done with this delicious meal.”
“Oh, but...” He met her eyes. “Oh.” The beat of his heart deepened into a heavy pounding in his chest.
Julia smiled at him. “Make me your wife,” she whispered. “Take me to bed.”
Colin rose and extended his hand to her and she laid her hand in his. He took her in his arms and smiled down at her. His dark hair fell rakishly over his forehead, his eyes gleamed and a smile touched his lips. The way he looked at her made her feel so beautiful, so cherished and loved. She’d been alone so long, after losing all her family, finding a love like this made her heart swell in her chest and her throat tighten.
“I did not want to rush you,” he murmured, brushing his lips over hers. Her lips tingled in response and her blood heated in her veins. “Do you know what it is that a man and his wife do on their wedding night? Do you know...how babies are made, my little love duckling?”
“I...I...” She trembled in his arms. Her doubts and fears returned. “I am an educated woman, Your Grace. Colin. But I did not have a mother to give me connubial counsel. I have heard talk...I have seen the horses...”
“I will teach you,” he replied, kissing her again, heating her skin, causing a queer ache to develop deep inside her. She pressed against him and his tongue probed into her mouth, tasting of burgundy and his own male essence. His kisses explored her mouth and invited her to do the same, one hand stroking her back in a lovely rhythm, the other sliding into her hair.
They kissed again and again, longer kisses, deeper kisses that made her want more and more, though she knew not exactly what she longed for. Fever built inside her, though not a dangerous fever as with scarlet fever, more of a sunburned kind of feeling, or no, rather more of a feeling of deep embarrassment, a flushed, warm feeling that started deep inside and spread outward.
She wound her arms around his neck, pressed her body against his from chest to thigh and kissed him back with enthusiasm and ardor equal to his own. As the ache deep inside her intensified, she felt his body hardening against her, almost alarmingly, but then she smiled against his mouth as she realized what she felt.
“Your Grace,” she purred.
“Hmmm?”
“I believe I have found your ferret.”
He jerked back from her. “My ferret? You...you found Brigid?” He gazed down at her with lust-dazed eyes.
She tipped her head to one side and squinted at him. “You named it Brigid?”
“Well...yes.”
She blinked at him. “Lud, you do have a somewhat odd penchant for using different names. I trust you have not named it after some other...woman. Because that would be rather...queer.”
“No, no. No other woman. But where is she? Where is Brigid?”
“Right here.” She lowered her hand to the placket of his breeches and gently squeezed his manroot.
He looked down. “Er...darling girl...my sweet love duckling...that is not my ferret.”
“It is not?” She peered up at him, stroking him. “I thought that was what you called it. When you wanted me to help find your ferret, I believed that you had some kind of plan for illicit congress in mind.”
His lips twitched. “Ah...no, my dear. But let’s not talk about Brigid right now.”
She gazed at him with affront. “Well if this is not Brigid, who is she then?”
He sighed. “I do have a ferret. It is an animal. A carnivorous mammal of the weasel family. She is my pet and her name is Brigid.”
“Did you bring this creature home with you from the high seas? That does seem unusual. I would think that a pirate might bring back something like a crocodile or a...a shark. Or a parrot! Why, what ever happened to Pemberley...remember? He was lovely and lavender and had quite an extensive vocabulary.”
“Er....yes. But perhaps we could have this zoological discussion later.”
“Yes. So. If this is not your ferret...” She squeezed again, drawing a groan from him. “What is it?”
“That, my dear, is my love truncheon. My passion prong.” He kissed her and moved her toward the bed. “My lance of love.”
“Oh.” She trembled again. “Will it...hurt?”
“It may. A little. But only for a moment. I promise I will also make you feel good. Now we must get you out of this clothing...” He slid his tongue along the side of her neck and she shivered.
“I will go behind the screen to disrobe,” she gasped.
“No.” He turned her around and began to unbutton her dress. A kiss to the nape of her neck brought forth more shudders of delight. “We are married. I want to gaze upon the perfection of your skin. The beauty of your body.”
“Colin.” His improper words made heat blossom between her legs. “Oh, Colin.”
He dragged her gown down and it puddled at their feet. Her petticoat went next and then his hands went to the ties of her corset. As he unfastened her drawers then stripped her shift off over her head, his mouth teased the skin he revealed, his tongue tasted, and his fingers caressed and tormented her heated flesh. Her eyes drifted closed with pleasure, though a lingering shyness at being naked in front of a man remained. When he stepped back and turned her to face him, then raked his gaze up and down her body, devouring her with eyes that blazed with passion, her breasts tingled and swelled with anticipation. Feminine satisfaction and joy swelled inside her. She wanted to please him so very much.
“Your body is beautiful,” he whispered. “Your skin so soft, like the skin of a peach. Your breasts are perfect globes and...” His eyes dropped. “Your tufted treasure is exquisite.”
Heat flooded from her chest up into her face at his frank words. But she wanted to feast her eyes upon his perfect skin and beautiful body. She bit her lip and peered up at him through her eyelashes. “Will you disrobe, too?”
His slow smile had her pulse galloping like the horse on which he’d carried her here after forcibly removing her from the hackney coach. He shrugged out of his coat, then unbuttoned his waistcoat. She climbed onto the bed to watch him, fascinated as he stripped down to his drawers, hesitated, and then removed them as well.
She drew in a sharp breath, taking in his broad shoulders, the sculpted muscles of his chest and arms and abdomen. And...her gaze lowered to his...er...love truncheon. Her eyes widened at the sight of that turgid shaft of masculinity, the flushed flesh and throbbing veins.
“Oh my,” she breathed. “Oh, Colin.”
He turned and moved toward the table, giving her a view of his backside that was equally as impressive, his tightly-muscled buttocks and thighs flexing as he walked. She tipped her head to one side, though, as she took in the mark on his posterior...a birthmark on his right cheek. A most unusual one. She squinted at it, then smiled, this small imperfection on an otherwise perfect body endearing him to her even more.
He returned to the bed, bringing a candle to set nearby, the room now mostly dark. In the flickering golden glow his body gleamed and emanated strength and power and...danger. That weapon of love was both intimidating and exciting. She swallowed, but inside she still ached and burned.
“You seem so different lately, Your Grace,” she whispered.
“How so, my love?”
“I never realized before how masterful you are. How...strong. How forceful. When you swept me up onto that horse and said you were taking me to the nearest parson to marry me...well, it was the most thrilling moment of my life.”
He smiled as he climbed onto the bed and moved over her. “Until now.”
She smiled back at his cocksure confidence in his ability to please her, and twined her arms around his neck. “Yes. Until now.”
Westley kissed Julia again, overcome by emotion, lust rolling through him in heated waves. He kissed her breasts, suckled at the tender berries of her nipples until she writhed and moaned beneath him. He slid a hand between them to find her Cupid’s furrow, pleased to find her soft flesh so very slick. She gasped and her thig
hs tightened on his hand. “Sssh, my love duckling,” he whispered, kissing her breasts. “Relax. Your love juices have begun to flow. That will make things easier for you.”
He played with her lady flower for a long time, kissing and sucking her plump bubbies, wanting her to be ready for him. Her soft whimpers and cries escalated into a symphony of seduction, a crescendo of passion, music to his ears. His body responded by hardening even more, his blood surging hotly in his veins. Then he reached for his throbbing manroot and found her entrance. He felt her tense as he entered her, her body bathing the head of his manhood with her sweet honey of ecstasy. He was going to hurt her, he knew it, and unexpected tenderness filled him.
“I’m sorry, my love,” he whispered—then he thrust into her. She squealed like a virgin on her wedding night, which, in point of fact, she was. He swallowed her small cry of pain with his mouth, kissing her again and again, trying to remain still as her body accepted him into her bower of bliss. Then he slowly began to move inside her, fighting for control. To his delight and gratification, she moved with him. He lifted his head and gazed at her face, her aquamarine eyes shiny with tears, a small smile trembling on her lips. “There,” he whispered. “There. So beautiful.”
She nodded, her gaze fixed upon his with utmost trust and devotion, and they rocked together until he exploded like a volcano, hurling both of them into a blazing inferno, a swirling cyclone of sparks—heat and light and transcendent wonder.
They lay together for long moments, her bosom heaving, both of them panting. And then some kind of emotion he could not identify filled him...could it be...guilt? Remorse? Those feelings old Roberts had told him never to allow himself to feel?
Why? At this moment he should be reveling in the satisfaction of having deflowered his beautiful virgin bride. But no...something else gnawed at his insides.
He’d wanted to feel worthy of her affection. He’d believed he could restore the Dukedom or the Duchy or whatever it was called with her at his side. He’d thought she’d restored his nefarious soul, but the truth was...he was still a blackguard. A bounder.
Had she really loved Colin? Even though Westley believed Colin would never return, and even though she was now well and truly his, the fact remained that he was pitching the gammon. Shamming it. And that was not fair to this beautiful English rose, this sweet pea of innocence, this fair flower of womanhood. He loved her—but he was living a lie. She thought him Colin Darcy, the Duke of Earl, and he was naught but a profligate imposter.
Chapter Fourteen: Out of the Mouths of Parrots
In which dark Secrets are Revealed, some True, some Less so, and in which No One is entirely Sure which is which
By Juniper Bell
Colin squinted after his lady love’s luscious posterior as she strode across the deck. He scratched at the stubble on his jaw. This strange journey into the world of pirates had made a man of him, in so many ways. But sometimes his dainty darling seemed to be far ahead of him in that respect. Wasn’t he supposed to be the Lord and Master of all he surveyed? Wasn’t that his god-given right as a Duke? Dukes were one step down from royalty, after all. After Dukes came Marquesses, then Earls, or maybe he had that backwards, but both ranked below Dukes. Viscounts came in last, he was fairly certain. Dukes were at the top of the heat and saucy ninja pirate ship captains didn't even make the list.
It was high time he took a stand.
“See here,” he called after Quinn. He caught the last curvy twitch of her buttocks as she swept down the hatch. So be it. If he had to scurry after her like a footman carrying his mistress’s hatboxes, he would. So long as he made his point clear.
He dashed down the hatch after her. She was already halfway to their Cabin of Delight. “I demand to know what’s in that mysterious message from the sea. And what you know of Netherloin.”
“Demand?” She whirled around, her eyes blazing like sea glass reflecting the sun’s rays, rendering him momentarily blind. She was splendid. Magnificent. “I’m the captain of this ship. Only I can demand.”
“But sweeting…” Was that a tear he spotted on her brave but trembling cheek?
“And I demand the truth. Colin.”
When she said his name in that tone of voice, it sounded quite criminal. He quickly checked his conscience. Had he wronged her in some fashion? Other than the obvious, naturally. But she’d seemed to enjoy that, if her constant cries of “By O-Wata-tsumi, that’s-good-don’t-stop-or-I’ll-shove-my-throwing-star-in-a-very-uncomfortable-place-board-me-baby-board-me-hard…” and so forth were any indication.
Or…was it something entirely different from their illicit activities? What was in that missive in the bottle? Where had it come from? If it had mentioned Netherloin, had it mentioned … him? “Hand me that letter.”
“Not until you tell me the truth.” She held it just out of his reach, which seemed impossible considering how much taller he was, but he was becoming used to her strange and magical abilities.
“The truth?”
“The truth!”
“You can’t handle the truth!” He shouted that last bit. She flinched backwards and whirled through the door to the Nest of Paradise where they’d performed so many dirty deeds. He stormed after her and found himself face to face with the lavender visage of a squawking Pemberley.
“Truth! Truth!” the bird echoed, clearly taking Quinn’s side. Even his yellow-ringed eyes looked accusing.
“Pemberley, step aside. This is between the lady and me.” Pemberley flapped in the air, a purple blur of fury, before turning up his beak and hopping back to his perch.
“Truth, truth,” he muttered. “Duke. Truth.”
Colin clamped his hands around the bird’s beak. If the truth had to be told, it ought to come from him, not a damn feather-puff. “I’m not really a pirate,” he told Quinn.
Quinn flung herself onto the bed, tossing him a look of scorn. “I’ll endeavor to contain my astonishment.”
“My full name is Colin Darcy, and I’m the Duke of Earl. Our family seat is Netherloin.”
Pemberley made a sound somewhere between a squawk and a snicker. Colin clamped his hand more tightly around his beak. “Not that kind of seat,” he hissed at the bird.
He turned back to Quinn, whose hostile expression hadn’t softened one bit. In fact, she looked positively thunderous now, the way Miss Fitzgerald used to look when Ward had put a spider in her pocket. He blinked. Really, she looked quite like Miss Fitzgerald, now that he thought about it. The fact that he’d mostly witnessed Quinn naked had thrown him off. He’d never seen the governess naked. Not that he hadn’t thought about it. A sudden vision of the two women nude flashed before him. He flung his forearm over his eyes to block it, but it didn’t seem to work. They were still there, taunting him with their sinuous blond beauty, their charms exposed to his avaricious gaze, their breasts, oh Lord, their bare breasts …
“There,” he choked. “Now you know everything.”
“You lie,” Quinn hissed. He lowered his arm to peer at her. She was still clothed. And alone. But his relief was short lived. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out? Did you think simply because we happen to be on a pirate ship in the middle of the ocean, thousands of miles from England, that I wouldn’t discover the truth? Did you forget about the swallows?”
“The swallows?”
“The swallow that carried the bottle with the message from my sister! Your wife!”
The Nook of Passion spun around him. Confusion made him drop his hand from Pemberley’s beak. He barely felt the subsequent angry peck. “I don’t have a sister.”
“Ah ha! So you don’t deny that you have a wife!”
“I do.” But his voice held no conviction, perhaps because her use of the double negative made his head hurt.
“You do have a wife?”
“I don’t have a wife. No, definitely not.” Even though he was thoroughly confused, he was pretty sure he hadn’t married. Hadn’t that been the whole point of taking to the
high seas? He hadn’t wanted to marry Chastity.
Quinn bolted to her feet and brandished the letter in her fist. “Are you calling my sister a liar?”
He recoiled in horror. “You’re Chastity’s sister? Lady Feelsgood?”
“Who is this Chastity and how do you know she feels good? First Sidebottom, now Chastity, not to mention my sister. You….you depraved dupirate, you!”
Colin cast a desperate glance at Pemberley, who suddenly pretended to groom his under-wing area with his beak. The idea of turning the bird into Pemberley soup was suddenly quite appealing.
“I left Netherloin so I wouldn’t have to marry Chastity.”
“So instead you married my own sister!”
“How was I to know you had a sister? I’ve barely just met you.” That didn’t seem to help Quinn’s mood. “In any case, I’m quite sure I’m not married to anyone! I do believe I would know if I were, don’t you agree?”
That logic seemed unassailable to him, but Quinn turned her face aside. Colin couldn’t abide the hurt marring her lovely features. He’d do anything to wipe it away. “If I was married, how could I possibly do the…those naughty, wonderful things we’ve done together?” He took a nervous step forward, checking for the location of her throwing stars. But this line of argument seemed to be working, and no terrifying objects sliced through the air. “How could I delve into your sweet honeypot, how could I pluck your love harp, how could I have…” Words failed him. His voice faltered. “… fallen so deeply in love with you?”
Quinn gave a shuddering sob. He took her hands in his.
“Perhaps the swallow is misinformed. Perhaps the ink got a drop of seawater on it. Perhaps the droplet made Colin out of … I don’t know, Gollum. There must be a simple explanation. What does the letter say?”
Quinn shook her head as though to clear it. She took up the letter and read aloud. “My dearest sister Quinn. In the infinitesimally small chance that this might find you, I am overjoyed to share the news that I have become the wife of my dearest beloved Colin Darcy, the Duke of Earl. You will always be welcome at my new home, Netherloin. I can only hope that you too will know this kind of happiness, and that I will someday tenderly embrace you once again. Your loving sister, Julia Fitzgerald Darcy, Duchess of Earl.”