by Mia Marlowe
“Pray, don’t trouble yourself on my account,” he said as she pulled out the boy’s garments. “There are so many cobwebs in the tunnels, no doubt you’ll want me leading the way. So if your backside is a bit exposed, I’ll never know.” His lips twitched with suppressed amusement. “But I can dream.”
“Then by all means, my lord, dream on,” she said. “And while you’re about it, turn your back so I can dress.”
He complied with deceptive meekness.
“You won’t turn around until I say?”
“Mistress, you have my solemn promise,” he said. “Wild horses could not drag me from this exact spot.”
Eyeing his broad back, Jacquelyn reached down and grabbed her hem. She pulled the nightshift off in one smooth motion.
Did she imagine it, or did he suck his breath in over his teeth? As promised, he hadn’t moved an inch, but his fingers balled into fists at his sides.
She leaned forward, her breasts swinging free, to slide her legs into Timothy’s old breeches.
Was she hearing things? She could have sworn Gabriel made a low groan.
She straightened and wiggled the breeches up over her hips. Carefully, she fastened first one side, then the other of the drop front, concealing her triangle of auburn curls.
He couldn’t see her unless he had eyes in the back of his head, but just having him in the room while she was nearly naked made her feel utterly wicked. She fisted her hair and pulled it up off her neck, letting the cool air from the passageway tickle her nape. She arched her back in a stretch.
He coughed and sputtered as if he’d just choked on a pumpkin seed.
“Are you quite finished?” he asked, his voice tight.
“Almost.” She pulled Timothy’s shredded shirt on and began doing up the few buttons Gabriel had left on it the last time she wore it. She’d never thought to wear it again, just to use the fabric for patches, so she hadn’t replaced them.
“Bloody pirate,” she muttered.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” she said, irritated when she couldn’t seem to close the shirtfront decently. Her nipples still peeped out at her.
This is exactly what he’d like, no doubt. She shook her ribs to make her breasts bounce.
Another noise, almost a sigh came from Gabriel’s direction.
Strangely enough, even if he couldn’t see them, it pleased her to think of her breasts bare with him so close. Her nipples tightened and she glowed rosily, flushed with guilty pleasure. She tried so hard to be a lady, but at her core, she was a creature of passion. Jacquelyn truly was Isabella Wren’s daughter, after all.
Maybe that is no bad thing, provided I keep things in check, she decided as she knotted the shirt in front and left her back bare. The ache in her groin had dulled to a pleasantly tolerable level.
“Very well, I’m ready,” she announced.
The tension drained out of his shoulders and he turned to face her, tight-lipped.
“My lord, I’m very impressed,” she said. “You were a perfect gentleman in a trying circumstance.”
“You’ve no idea.” He took up the candlestick and disappeared into the passageway. “If you’ll follow me, Mistress.”
“Lead on, my lord,” she said cheerfully as she closed the secret doorway behind her. Her smile faded when she looked back into the room.
And noticed the placement of her looking glass.
Gabriel stifled a chuckle. “Very trying circumstances indeed.”
Chapter 16
Jacquelyn gnawed the inside of her cheek in embarrassment. He’d had a full view of her the whole time. He’d seen every bit of her skin, even down to the delicate folds between her legs that still pounded with aching fury. And worse yet, an exceedingly naughty part of her was actually glad he’d seen her.
What possessed her?
Gabriel Drake.
That had to be the explanation. Since he’d taken her maidenhead, every sense of decency had been stripped away. He’d claimed her, changed her somehow. During the ball, she caught herself watching him as he danced, enjoying the display of masculine grace. She admired the cut of his frockcoat and the snug fit of his knee-breeches.
And wondered what he’d look like without them.
The old Mistress Wren would no more have entertained such notions than she’d have screamed obscenities in the chapel, but ‘Lyn’ seemed overflowing with wicked thoughts.
Even now, as she trailed him through the dark corridor, part of her couldn’t help noticing the way his breeches hugged his buttocks and muscular thighs. Her fingertips tingled to slide up under his shirt to trace the indentation of his spine.
This is so wrong. Jacquelyn knew she should go back, but when she glanced over her shoulder at the dark void behind her, she realized she could wander this labyrinth for days without finding her chamber again. For better or worse, Gabriel Drake was her guide.
“My lord—“
“Shh!” he cautioned, stopping to turn and place a finger on her lips. The silence was severed by a loud snort on the other side of the wall, then followed by the deep rhythmic buzz of a snore. “If we are to explore together, you must call me Gabriel. ‘My lord’ makes me feel far too . . .” his whisper trailed away to nothing as he searched for the apt word.
“Lordly?”
“I was going to say old. Reminds me of my father, but I’d accept ‘lordly’ if it meant you were inclined to obedience,” he leaned down to murmur into her ear. His warm breath on her neck set her skin dancing.
“And how would you have me obey you more thoroughly?”
He made a sound she couldn’t decipher, almost like a low growl in the back of his throat.
“Have I displeased you?”
“No.” He inhaled deeply and she thought he muttered something about Ulysses only being plagued with Sirens, while he . . . Here she lost the thread of his thought.
“Gabriel?”
“We must be quiet. If we can hear them, they can hear us.”
The wheezing on the far side of the wall grew louder.
“That must be Mrs. Beadle,” she whispered back to him.
He shrugged. “Or Meriwether. His snore could wake the dead.”
“And Mrs. Beadle could make them long for the quiet of the grave,” she said with a grin.
“God forbid Meri and Mrs. B. ever get together, then.”
Jacquelyn choked on that thought. “You think such a thing might be possible?”
Gabriel’s shoulders hitched upward. “God knows. Meri’s half-convinced himself into fondness for her on the strength of her excellent cherry pies.” He shook his head. “Only the very wise or a total fool would claim to understand why some folk fancy each other.”
“I don’t think it’s a matter of choice,” Jacquelyn said as they moved on. If she had a say in the matter, she certainly wouldn’t have a twitch in her loins for a prodigal pirate. “I’m coming to believe passion isn’t a thing that may be selected.”
“And yet, a selection is what you’ve foisted upon me.”
“Tis not my doing,” she said. “Tis simply a thing which must be done. Besides from what I’ve heard of marriage among nobility, passion is not a requirement in any case. What matters is that the match be deemed suitable for both parties.”
The passageway led them steeply upward till they came upon a door that led out onto small, private balcony overlooking even the battlements. After the confinement of the narrow passage, Jacquelyn breathed a sigh of relief as the heavens opened above them. Stars winked overhead, brittle pinpricks in the inky sky.
“Life is filled with choices,” Jacquelyn said. She chose then to fill her lungs with the crisp night air instead of throw herself upon the man at her side as she wished. “Some choices are simply harder than others.”
“And somehow you expect me to choose a baroness from the eligible young ladies you trotted before me this night.”
“Tis not my fault you were born to the title,” she said, lean
ing on the stone crenellations to peer down into the dark bailey. “All I’m trying to do is help you keep it.”
“Ah, Mistress, there’s somewhat else I’d rather have you help me keep. My sanity, for one.”
He pinched off the candle flame and set the candlestick down. Then he turned back to her. She stood perfectly still as he reached up a hand and ran a finger from her temple to her jaw. Then he cupped her chin and lowered his mouth to kiss her softly.
She should run, she knew. Whether she could find her way out or not, she should bolt down into the blackness. But she couldn’t bear to tear herself away from the sweetness of his mouth on hers.
When he pulled back, he brushed her lower lip with his thumb. “A title isn’t everything. What if I decided I didn’t want it?”
“You must,” she said miserably, turning her face away from him. “For the sake of everyone in the Caern.”
“Dragon Caern was old when my father’s father came into this barony. This estate has done quite well without me up till now,” he said, releasing her to lean on the balcony rail. “It will continue when I am gone.”
“The estate will thrive under competent leadership, yes,” she said. “But what of the girls? You must protect your nieces’ interests. Can you honestly think they’d be better off in the Crown’s keeping?”
“So far, they’re not doing so well in mine. Hyacinth was nearly ravished this night.”
“And would have been but for you,” she said. “You were right. I shouldn’t have let her attend the ball.”
“You couldn’t have known what would happen.” He waved off her confession. “Even the perfect Mistress Wren cannot see all ends.”
She decided to let this little jibe pass unremarked.
“I’ve yet to thank you for what you did.” She’d been so afraid Gabriel would be hurt during the swordfight with that vile Baron Curtmantle, but she was unable to look away. Muscles tense, sword arm swinging, his face etched with the fury of an avenging angel, he was too spectacular to miss a moment. “I’ve never seen the like. You were magnificent and terrible at the same time.”
“Bah! The day I can’t best Hugh Curtmantle I may as well turn up my toes,” he said.
“Still, you shouldn’t take chances with your life. Your nieces need you, Gabriel,” she said.
“And what of you, Lyn?” He rested his warm palm on her shoulder and then let it slide down her arm. Their fingers twined of their own accord. “Have you no needs?”
“I need . . . “ The back of her throat felt suddenly thick. A host of erotic longings assaulted her, beginning with where her wicked dream left off. Ignoring the clamor of her body, she called upon her will. “I need for you to stop calling me Lyn.”
His mouth tightened into a hard line, but he gave her a grudging nod. “Mistress, I wish to heaven you weren’t stronger than me.”
“I’m not,” she said, suddenly angry with him. “Can you not see that I’m dangling by a thread? You stupid, stupid man. Do you think I don’t want you?”
“Frankly, I don’t know what to think,” he said, backing half a step from her, stunned by her outburst. “First you give me your purity, then you push me away. You fill the castle with other women for me to court, then you call out my name in your sleep. You’re all I can think of, and yet your first thought is always for the Caern. Except when you’re ripping off your nightshift and shaking your teats at me. You’re a right puzzlement, Mistress Wren.”
She covered her face with both hands and heaved a sigh. “I’m a puzzlement to myself as well.” Her voice shook. “My looking glass shows me a face I don’t recognize these days. I don’t know what’s come over me.”
“I do.” He gently took her wrists and pulled her hands away from her face. His smile was both gentle and wickedly sensual at the same time and Jacquelyn couldn’t figure out how he managed such a feat. “Don’t blame yourself and don’t blame the mirror. I have an exceptionally high opinion of that looking glass just now.”
“Oh, you beast!” She tried to swat at him, but he held her wrists tight. “You know what I meant.”
“Yes, I do,” he said, suddenly serious. “You’ve discovered a part of yourself you didn’t know exists. Perhaps you’d rather not admit to your passionate nature, but it won’t change the facts. You’re not the first to discover you are something other than what you always thought. I was born the son of a gentleman. Do you think I enjoyed waking up every morning and shaving the chin of a pirate?”
“According to Mr. Meriwether, you weren’t given much choice.”
His smile inverted slightly. “I wish I could believe that, but I must live in this skin. I know the truth. The truth is the pirate was in there all along, just waiting for the opportune moment.” His smile turned suddenly wicked again. “There were times when I enjoyed shaving a pirate very much.”
“So you’re saying that I’ve always been a whore, but I just didn’t know it?”
“No, not at all,” Gabriel said. “For a bright woman, you’re singularly gifted in mistaking my meaning. I find you the most exciting, the most passionate woman I’ve ever known. Certainly no whore. And I want you to know I’ve never regretted taking your virginity.”
She made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. “Is that your idea of an apology? Of all the—”
He silenced her with a searching kiss that warmed her to her toes.
“That’s just the pirate in me,” he admitted when he released her mouth. “I can’t regret what I’ve taken from you, Lyn. But I’ve suffered untold pangs over having taking your maidenhead so badly.”
She digested this astounding admission. “It wasn’t so bad,” she said in a small voice. “I suspect it would have gotten better. You must admit, we were interrupted at an untimely moment.”
“Granted.” His lips twitched in a suppressed grin as he looked around. “Since no one but we knows of the secret passages, the likelihood of our being interrupted again now seems remote.”
She closed her eyes, only to see an image of the two of them clinging together in grinding passion burned on her vision.
“But I am not wellborn and you must—“
“Yes, I must do my duty for Dragon Caern,” he finished for her. “And God help me, I will. But I’m only a man. And not a very good one at that. I’ll do what needs doing for the sake of the Caern, but I can’t bear the thought of not ever making love to you, Lyn. I don’t think I can live that way.”
He pressed a lover’s kiss into her open palm.
“Please don’t make me,” he whispered.
She shuddered with need. “Oh, Gabriel . . . “ was all she could manage.
“I’ll take that, Mistress, as consent.”
Chapter 17
Gabriel bent and scooped her in his arms. She was light as a child, but her soft curves quickly dispelled the comparison. No longer the prickly chatelaine, she was pliant and willing, pressing her lips against his throat as he ducked back into the secret corridor. He left the door open behind him, hoping the moonlight would shaft down enough for him to see. He couldn’t bear to put her down long enough to re-light the candle.
“Where are we going?” she asked between planting feverish kisses on his neck and nipping his earlobe.
“To my chamber.”
He didn’t make it a question. There was no going back. She wanted him. He wanted her. Damn tomorrow, they’d have each other this night.
But as urgently as he needed to bury himself in her sweet flesh, he was determined not to rush things this time. In the armory, his world had turned to heat and irresistible longing in a blink. It had taken everything in him to stop long enough to make sure it was her will, too before he deflowered her. If she’d said no, he hoped he’d have been able to pull back, but he wouldn’t have laid money on it.
Now there was no question of stopping. Lyn draped her lithe arms around his neck and laid her head on his chest as he side-stepped down the dark passage. When they’d passed this way befor
e, the smell of decades old dust had filled his nostrils. Now he was drowning in the scent of this woman, all warm and musky in his arms.
His eyesight adjusted to the dimness and he traced his steps by distant memory back to the lord of the manor’s suite. It seemed an eternity before he was able to kick open the door to his chamber which he’d left ajar. He stood stock still for a moment, trying to quell the hammering in his chest. He wanted Lyn with every fiber of his body, every drop of blood in his veins. She made him weak and strong at once. He was tempted to give in to the rutting beast inside him, but he was determined to love her well this time.
He kissed her as he lowered her feet to the ground. To his delight, she molded herself against him, her softness against his hardness. Her fingers curled around his lapel, tugging him ever closer.
Part of his mind screamed this was a heartache waiting to happen. He would still have to wed another. She would see to it. There was no turning Jacquelyn from her purpose when she set her mind to something and she was fiercely determined to save his barony for the sake of his nieces. He might only have her this one time.
There was so much that needed saying.
When her tongue dove between his lips, no words would form in his brain. Surely she must know the way of things, that their joining would be as ships chance-met on the high seas, an exchange of mail and messages and then parting to continue their separate voyages. Yet Jacquelyn seemed set upon having him in any case. With a groan of pleasure, she met his passion with her own. Her fingertips fluttered over his bared throat and upward, twining his hair, kneading his scalp.
He fondled her breast, but she gently pushed his hand away.
“You’ve had your time to explore, Captain, and may yet again,” she said with a devilish grin he’d never have believed if he hadn’t seen with his own eyes. “But this is my time.”