by Grace Elliot
“Absolutely not. You have made your intentions crystal clear.”
Jack jumped up. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“Better, thanks to you.”
“I’m glad.” And he meant it.
“Has it stopped snowing?”
Glad of the distraction, he drew back the thin curtain, but compacted snow formed a barrier on the other side of the window pane. Rubbing condensation from the top six inches, he saw snow still falling from a sickly, sepia sky.
“No. And there are snow clouds aplenty.”
“No travel today?”
With a pang, Jack saw how pale she looked and was glad there was no prospect of moving. “Out of the question.”
They avoided each other’s gaze.
“Could be stuck for days.” The strange thing was, Jack didn’t mind. Despite his best efforts, the reason for remaining angry with Eulogy kept slipping out of focus. That she might easily have perished out in the storm had shaken him more than he cared to admit. That she had put her life at risk, to come to him.
“Breakfast?” he muttered.
“A cup of tea?”
“If this place has tea.”
“More likely ale.”
They exchanged a brief smile.
Jack stirred himself. “Breakfast it is. And after that, if you are strong enough, we talk.”
An hour later, after a simple repast of kippers, crusty rolls and coffee that tasted of rust, the moment could not be postponed any longer. With her riding habit still wet, Eulogy sat before the fire swaddled in Jack’s coat. Hands clasped behind his back, Jack paced like a caged bear. Eulogy broke the silence.
“My only mistake was not confiding in you sooner.”
“Mistake!” Despite his resolution to stay calm, Jack pulled his hair. “Which mistake was that? Being Devlin’s mistress or blackmailing him?”
Before his eyes, Eulogy changed. Her jaw dropped and pupils wide with shock.
“If that is what Devlin said, then he is the liar.” Sitting very still, with absolute assurance she met Jack’s eye. “Lucien Devlin is my brother.”
Silence, except for the crackling fire.
“My mistake,” she repeated, “was not telling you before that Lord Lucien Devlin is my brother. That is my one and only error.”
Jack laughed nervously. “Why for a moment there I could have sworn you said Devlin is your brother.”
“I did.” She regarded him tensely. “Have you never wondered why I have such an unusual name?”
“I did ask once, but you said it was a long story.”
“Well, my Mother, Lady Gabriella Devlin, gave me away at birth, to protect me. I was named ‘Eulogy’ as a tribute to her nobility and self-sacrifice.”
Jack closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest broken and deflated.
“Why couldn’t you tell me?”
“Come, sit, and I will explain.”
Jack perched on the edge of his trunk.
“At first it was because I had to give Devlin time to accept he had a sister. He had no idea you see. But later, I had to know you loved me for myself, humble background and all, and not because of my blood lines. Surely you see that?”
“Oh.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“I did, do but then Devlin said…”
“And you believed him over me?” Her brown eyes dimmed. “I expected better from you.”
A pain shot through Jack’s heart, knowing she was right to chastise him.
He shook his head. “You could have, should have told me.”
“I assured you that I wasn’t Devlin’s mistress and you believed me. Obviously you didn’t mean it.”
“I did, truly, until the ball and I saw you with Devlin. You looked so cozy and I felt so jealous and began to doubt. I went to have it out with him. That’s when he confessed you were his mistress, that he cast you off and you were blackmailing him.”
“Clever!” Eulogy acknowledged. “To protect himself he discredits me. Very clever.”
“You’re not surprised?”
Eulogy’s eyes blazed. “Horrified but not surprised.”
“To be fair, it all fit. When we first met it was outside Devlin’s, and you kept paying calls on him.”
“So you accepted Devlin’s version of events?”
Something crumbled inside him. “I’m so sorry, but can’t you see, every time I asked you about the two of you, you clammed up. What was I supposed to think? Please, help me understand.”
“Very well, but don’t keep interrupting.”
Huntley drew the traveling chest closer to the fire, and sat.
“I shall be silence itself. Go on.”
“I was born the third child, and legitimate daughter, of Lord and Lady Devlin.”
“Then how—”
Eulogy fixed him with a stare. “No interrupting.”
“Sorry.”
“I was given away at birth.”
“Tis against nature. Why would anyone do that?”
“I shanty carry on if you keep interrupting.”
“I’m sorry. Pray, continue.”
“Gabriella Devlin was abused by her husband. My father, it seems, was a cruel man and evil flourished in his care.”
“But to give a child away...what mother is so cold blooded? Surely Lord Devlin objected?”
“My father never knew. He was abroad when Gabriella came to child-bed, and she wrote to him saying the child died at birth.”
“I cannot believe it! Who would do such a thing?”
“You’re not making this any easier.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Farrell knew the truth. Until then I believed I had been given away because Gabriella died and Father was sick with grief and couldn’t bear to look on the child who had killed her.”
“Tell me.” Jack felt sick. If what she said was true, then he had done her a great wrong.
Eulogy chewed her lip, summoning the strength to continue. “Lucien is the eldest child, between us was another boy, Frederick. A sensitive child, shy and sickly, qualities my father detested. Apparently, Freddie was terrified of horses, so one day, to cure him of this fear, Father set him on a hunter and forced him at a hurdle.”
A terrible dread filled Jack. “What happened?”
“Freddie fell and broke his neck. When Father broke the news to Mother, he ordered her not to grieve. He said that there were better and bolder sons in his loins than the one she had lost.”
Jack sat perfectly still.
“So when Mother fell pregnant again, this time with me, she feared for the babe in her womb, especially if it were a girl. She had endured such cruelty herself. She feared how the child would be ill-used. She could see no way of protecting the babe other than pretending the child had died and giving me away.”
Jack felt sick. “You explained this to Lucien?”
“Yes. When Mary Foster, the woman I called mother, took ill, she knew I would be left without means. So on her death bed, in the hope Lucien would be kind, she told me the truth. She gave me papers, legal documents proving my case. Only they were stolen the night we met, when I was robbed. She also gave me Lady Devlin’s ring, engraved with her marriage dates, which Lucien took from me.”
“He did what?”
“He recognized the inscription, but claimed a servant stole the ring years ago and accused me of blackmail.”
“Dear Lord.” Jack passed his arm across his face, a cold sweat on his brow. “Then he knew the truth and still denied you.”
“Yes.”
Jack’s mind raced.
“And Farrell? That first afternoon, he recognized whose child you are, didn’t he?”
“As a young artist painted Gabriella’s portrait and tenderness developed between them. Not that they were anything more than friends. That’s why Farrell reacted as he did. He recognized in me, Gabriella’s living likeness.”
“Thank heavens he did. Quite possibly he saved y
ou from the streets.” An ache filled his throat.
“Farrell was the one man Gabriella trusted. She wrote to him just before she died, during her next confinement. She shared her secret and asked that if ever I was in trouble that he watch over me. When Gabriella died in childbirth, with my younger brother, Farrell blamed himself for not removing her to safety after my birth and the guilt weighed heavy on his shoulders.”
“Hence he turned to drink!” With the dawning of comprehension Jack stared Eulogy in the eye. “And Lucien? He felt threatened by your claim. He chose to deny you, a Lord’s word against a nobody? A bully!” Jack cursed under his breath.
“He was afraid of the scandal and the more successful Farrell’s paintings, the more threatened he was, to the point of wishing me harm.”
“So it was Devlin’s hired thug that afternoon, I was right.” A terrible anger grew in his chest, constricting his breathing.
“Then I became engaged to you. He tried to buy me off, but I refused.”
“His best option was to break the engagement and discredit your word.”
“Exactly. Since I can prove nothing in law, his plan could work if you believed him and not me.”
“Except Farrell knew the truth and now me.” Jack dropped to his knees, taking both her hands in his. “Can you ever forgive me? You are my reason for living and I have cruelly hurt you?”
His mouth was dry.
Eulogy leant forward, her gaze, bold and unwavering.
“Kiss me.”
Heat suffused his body. “Eulogy Foster, I humbly ask, will you to be my wife?”
Eulogy smiled shyly. “Kiss me, and then you will have an answer.”
Chapter 20
Eulogy held her breath; a bone-aching need pervaded her body. Jack looked at her oddly, his eyes dark with some unnamed emotion that made her feel weak and strong at the same time. He reached out to stroke her cheek, his caress gentle as a dove’s.
“My heart is in your hands,” he whispered.
“Then kiss me…”
“You are sure? Who knows where it may lead.”
She swallowed hard, her chest hollow with excitement. “Never more certain.”
Tension thrummed between them as her body called to his. He was so powerful, should he chose he could overpower her in an instant, and yet as his leant in and his lips brushed hers, he hesitated. She closed her eyes and waited. Tentatively, he kissed her again, his heat filling her senses and her soul rejoiced at his touch. She groaned, like a parched man given water, thirsting for more as she threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling him close. But then his touch was gone, her lips bare and her eyes flicked open in surprise. He sat back, watching her.
Eulogy’s heart thudded with frustration. “You’ve given your mother less chaste kisses than that.”
He arched a brow. “So, you don’t like chaste?”
Eulogy tipped her head coquettishly. “Well, if I had something to compare with it…”
With calculated control, watching her very response, Jack slid his arms around her waist, pulling her onto his knee and against the hard unyielding wall of his chest, Trapped by arms of steel, Eulogy forgot to breathe, her limbs leaden with burgeoning desire.
The thin fabric of her shirt, pressed against him, she felt the wild leaping of his heart. With a contented sigh, she tipped her head back and as Jack tasted the depths of her mouth, she was powerless to do anything but melt against him.
Jack’s body trembled against hers. “I want you. I need you. Please, have mercy. Don’t tempt me like this.”
Through a passion drunk haze, Eulogy found her voice. “Why not?”
“Because, I won’t have you thinking this is just lust. Eulogy…I love you.”
“Oh!” The room spun a little.
“I won’t be the cause of your ruin. If we make love, it will be with you as my future wife. Do you understand?”
“You chose this moment to propose again?” She hardly dared move.
Unshed tears glistened in his eye. “Eulogy Foster, it is more than I deserve, but would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”
To her own surprise, Eulogy hesitated as cold logic struck home. “You are a man of integrity. If we make love, it will because I want to and I won’t hold you to a proposal made in the heat of the moment.”
He half-pushed her away. “Then, I can wait, for I want you forever, not for some heady tumble. Pledge yourself to me, body and soul, or not at all.”
In a heartbeat Eulogy knew her answer. “We want the same thing. Jack, I love you and will marry you.”
His face glowed with happiness, but it was Eulogy who stood first, taking Jack’s hand and leading him to the bed. The mattress creaked as they sat, coy as any young lovers meeting for the first time.
“I didn’t mean to conceal the truth, but I kept my secret,” She laced her fingers through his, kissing his knuckles one by one. “My mother endured a loveless marriage and I had to know your love was strong and true. Can you forgive me?”
“There is nothing to forgive.” Jack stroked her velvet cheek and she leant into his touch, if she’d been a cat she would have purred. “I’m sorry I took Devlin’s word over yours, when you have more nobility in your little finger than he in the whole of his body.”
“Sssh, let’s not talk of him.” Her body thrummed anew, as Jack smoothed a stray curl from her forehead.
“I promise never to hurt you again.”
Drugged by his closeness, she sighed deeply.
“I love you too.”
“Tis more than I deserve.” His voice was gritty with suppressed passion.
“I trust you,” she whispered, darting a kiss against his throat.
Jack’s voice crackled. “But are you willing to become my wife before God, here and now?”
“Oh yes.”
Fascinated, her palm played across his ridged chest, his heated gaze made her body melt.
“Miss Foster, I say one last time, if you value your virtue, stop now.”
His hands formed fists, shaking with the effort of control. With a sly smile Eulogy slid onto his lap.
“Then let our future together start now.”
Something hard and undeniably masculine pressed against her thigh.
“I am barely in control and there will be no turning back.”
Dry mouthed Eulogy nodded. “Let’s celebrate our love.”
Jack made no move, his body locked rigid as a muscle ticked along his jaw.
“You are untouched. Do you understand what happens next?”
Heat zinged to her cheeks. “I am country reared. I imagine tis like a ram tupping a ewe.”
Unexpectedly, Jack threw back his head and laughed as Eulogy regarded him crossly.
“I’m sorry…” With effort Jack’s mouth took on a more serious shape. “In the mechanics, there is a passing semblance. But the difference is in the emotion. I love you and intend to worship at your feet.”
He reached for her hand, lifting it to his mouth, tasting each of her fingers. Something magical came to life inside her, stirring low in her belly, pouring warmth through her veins as if waking from hibernation.
Their gazes locked. He turned her palm uppermost, feathering kisses up along the tender skin of her wrist. The sensation was exquisite, licking flames of desire shimmying up her arm as she marveled how she had lived so long without knowing such feelings existed.
Weak from his kisses she clung to him as his fingers trailed across her shirt front, grazing her sensitized breast through the thin fabric. Surprised by her own wantonness, she arched against him. Jack cupped the weight of her breast. Tenderly he explored her shape through the fabric, allowing her time to adapt to the need darting through her body. He worked at the shirt buttons and the linen parted as he slid a warm hand against her ribs, skin on skin, caressing her breast. She groaned, enthralled by his touch.
With slow reverence, Jack slid the shirt from her shoulder, but instead of feeling embarrasse
d, Eulogy basked in the heat of his gaze. He pushed the linen aside, exposing her taut nipples and leaning forward, covered one with his hot mouth. She thought she would die from the pleasure as he sucked and kneaded.
“I won’t do anything you don’t desire.” Jack breathed heavily, as Eulogy’s fingernails bit into the muscle of his shoulder. Her brain no longer functioned on a rational level, but only answered to animal desire.
“You have me at a disadvantage.” She tugged at Jack’s shirt, and with two jerks tossed it aside. Her breath hissed through her teeth.
In the firelight, his supple skin glowed and he looked like a god. Fascinated she touched the flat plains of his chest, tracing the sculpted outline of muscle, placing her palm against the ripples of his belly. His body convulsed as she traced the broad width of his chest and then ran a fingertip down to his belly button, watching the muscular spasms as he trembled beneath her touch. She felt powerful and wanton, as the hard length of his torso pressed against hers.
“Your body is so different.” Her curious fingers tracked to his waist.
“Steady now.”
Jack chuckled and allowed her hand to dip below the waistband of his breeches.
Then in one deft movement he tossed her onto the mattress, pushed her thighs apart with his knees and settled his weight above her. A moist, velvet warmth glowed in the most intimate place between her legs. Silently, Eulogy marveled that she enthralled this gorgeous man so.
“You are stunning,” he said
Eulogy gathered her courage. “Please, touch me.”
Tapped between the bulging pillars of his arms, her sensitized breasts were brushed by his bare chest as he leant low, claiming her like a predator over his kill. Fire ripped through her belly as she squirmed with need.
“Steady,” he murmured, “plenty of time, we’ve only just started.”
Hungrily his mouth claimed hers once more. This kiss more urgent, hot and bruising to those that went before. Then Jack broke away, rolling away to lie beside her, laying his arm, heavy and possessive, over her waist.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded, and felt for the fastening of his breeches and fumbled with the clasps, intrigued by the swelling bulge beneath the chamois. Never had she felt so daring and yet vulnerable. Jack’s presence did things to her that she couldn’t explain and didn’t want to stop. Even now, she knew that if Jack cast her off tomorrow and she lived to be a hundred, she would never regret this moment, no matter what the consequences. Her blood cooled slightly. Consequences? That could mean a child. From the depth of a passion-fogged brain, common sense stirred.