by Mia Marlowe
He would have argued, but she unbuttoned his shirt and slid her hands inside, caressing, teasing, her fingers splayed across his chest. So she wanted her hand on the tiller, did she? He’d allow it for now.
He contented himself with cupping her cheeks and making love to her mouth as she touched him unhindered. As their kiss deepened, her hands drifted lower to tug at the waist of his breeches and fumble with the buttons on either side of the drop front. In her haste, she popped one right off. It hit the floor with a plop and rolled out of sight.
“Oh, dear,” she said as she reached into his breeches to cup his scrotum in her warm smooth palm. “You seem to have lost a button.”
He was near to losing control. His cock ached for her touch. The way she kneaded his balls sent his groin into a frenzy of pleasure and agony in equal measure.
“Shall I stop to find it?”
What is she talking about? Oh, the damn button.
“Not for all the gold on the Spanish Main,” he said between clenched teeth.
Lyn grazed him with her palm, her touch a glancing caress. She looked up at him, her eyes enormous. She stroked him again, harder this time while never taking her gaze from his, questioning, watching for his reaction.
He’d made love to a number of women. This was the first time a woman made love to him. He’d always had to take his pleasure with the others, but Lyn was intent on giving.
Waves of sensation rolled over him, engulfing him, nearly taking him down. When she pressed a shy kiss beneath one nipple, he drew in a shuddering breath. Lyn nipped him and sent desire surging to his swollen cock. She began trailing kisses down his chest to his navel and dropped to her knees before him.
He thought he might die.
If she lost her nerve now, he was sure he would.
Gabriel had never believed much in heaven. The idea of a land of delights beyond this life was a pleasant fancy, but he held to what he could handle with his own hands, see with his own eyes. Mayhap his uncertainty about what lay beyond death led to his turning pirate rather than finding out first hand about the afterlife when the Defiant foundered. But if there was such a place as heaven, surely it couldn’t hold more bliss than the sweetness of her mouth on him.
For if it did, heaven would be more exquisite joy than mortal man could bear.
* * *
He groaned low again, a rumble of male strength reduced to incoherence. A thrill of power coursed through Jacquelyn as she licked his full length. When he invaded her with his mouth in the armory, she’d lost herself in the maelstrom of sensations. Since the madness of that time, she’d wondered what it would be like to turn the tables on him.
Her imagination hadn’t come close.
She was sure she was doing it all wrong, that she was using her tongue when she should take him into her mouth, that she stopped to kiss him when he wanted her to suckle, but somehow her inexperience didn’t seem to matter. He was powerless before her, trembling with need, and she reveled in enslaving him with pleasure.
Strangely enough, giving to him sent shivers of delight over her. Warmth pooled between her thighs and the ache that was becoming all too familiar to her began its incessant drumbeat. He caressed her head with both his big hands, gently threading her locks through his fingers. She flicked him with her tongue in random feathery strokes. His breathing hitched as he sucked air over his teeth.
He fascinated her. She’d known how men were fashioned. At least she had a good guess after overseeing the breeding of the broodmares at Dragon Caern. She’d assumed men were just smaller versions of stallions.
But Gabriel’s cock was a wonder, all smooth and hard and hot. She loved the way it moved of its own accord, arcing toward her, veins bulging. She closed her lips around him and laved her tongue over the bit of rougher skin just below the tight head. His ballocks drew up into a snug mound.
He made a strangled sound and pulled her away from him.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No, you were doing something very right.” He took her hands and raised her to her feet. “But if you continue, this will be over far sooner than I wish it to be. And I want to give you a full measure of pleasing before I take my own.”
“I gave you pleasure, then?”
“More than I dreamed possible. More than I can bear.” Gabriel swore softly as he cupped her cheeks. “Far more than I deserve.”
“Let me be the judge of that.” She smiled up at him. The fire that had started in her exceedingly naughty dream now threatened to erupt into a full blaze, but she banked the flames. Drawing out the torment only seemed to increase it. “I’ll wager you can bear a good bit more. Besides, it pleases me to give you pleasure.”
“Truly?”
She nodded.
“What would you have me do, Lyn?”
“To begin with, I would look at you. All of you, Gabriel.”
He spread his hands in surrender and she reached up to shove his shirt off his shoulders. He toed off his shoes as she hitched his breeches down over his muscular thighs. He stepped out of them and stooped to pull off his stockings. He wore no small clothes, heaven be thanked. Then he straightened to his full height and held her in a smoldering gaze. Faint light from the banked fireplace kissed his frame, accenting the mounds and indentations of his muscles.
Hard and strong, he was everything that was male. All that was female in her answered him with soft moistness.
So this is how a woman crosses over to the dark and becomes a courtesan. Is this how it was for mother? This thundering need to be with a man, devil take tomorrow?
She shoved away all thought but Gabriel.
“If I lived to be a hundred,” Jacquelyn said, “I’ll never see anything finer than you in the altogether, Gabriel Drake. Not ever in my whole living life.”
He chuckled, his belly and cock jiggling. “Apparently, you’ve led a sheltered existence up till now, Mistress.”
“Then unshelter me.” The ache between her thighs was making her a terrible wanton, but she was powerless to stop it. “I want to know everything about you. Everything that pleases you.”
He closed the distance between them and gathered her into his arms. “All you need do is look in the mirror, then. You are what pleases me, Lyn.” He bent to kiss her, taking his time, his lips sweet and almost chaste on hers. Then the kiss changed, deepened and he stole the breath from her lights.
His hands roamed over her body, sending sparks across her skin. He parted Timothy’s shirt and bared her breasts. Her nipples hardened as they grazed his chest. He pulled down her boy’s breeches so their bare bodies could press against each other, skin on skin. She kicked off her slippers, reveling in the feel of him, warm and solid and wanting.
He cupped her bum and lifted her off her toes so his cock spread her opening just a bit. Her gut clenched, waiting for him to enter her. To her dismay, he lowered her back down without joining with her.
He released her mouth and shot her a wicked grin. Clearly he planned to draw out the torment as well. “Speaking of mirrors, the sight of you changing clothes in yours this night was a treasure I’d not trade for a chest of doubloons. If you would truly please me, Lyn, all you need do is shake those lovely breasts at me again. My view in the mirror wasn’t as clear as I’d have wished.”
Embarrassment heated her cheeks, but she’d asked what he wanted. Isabella’s daughter would never do anything by halves.
She raised her arms above her head in surrender and bounced twice on her toes. “Like that?” Then she cupped her breasts and offered them to him. “Or like this?”
“Oh, Lyn.” He took them in his calloused palms as if they were more precious than gold and bent to claim a nipple with his lips.
Her whole being thrummed with life. She felt each pulse of her heart twice, once in her chest and once between her legs. She arched into him, hooking her knee around his thigh and pressing her wetness against him. Anything to appease the ache.
He groaned in response to her arousal, scooped
her up and carried her to his big feather bed. They tumbled into it in a tangle of limbs, kisses that fell where they may, hands that sought and massaged the neediest of places.
His head disappeared beneath the sheet and she felt his hot mouth on her, probing and teasing. A coil strained in her belly. She was wound tighter than the eight-day clock in the parlor. At any moment the spring might break under the tension.
“Please, Gabriel,” she said between shuddering breaths.
“My every intent, Lyn,” he said as he mounted her, sliding his full length home in a rush of need. Her womb contracted once in greeting and he stilled, willing them both into control. The ache subsided only a little.
There was no pain this time. Only the wonder of holding him inside her. They moved as one, sinuous and slow. The pressure bubbled up inside her again, like a pot ready to boil over.
Gabriel thrust deep and held her head between his hands, holding his weight on his elbows. He said her name with tenderness as he looked down at her. “Lyn,” the secret name he’d given her, low and rumbling. One more thrust and she began to unravel.
Rolling contractions bucked her frame. Her limbs were no longer her own, shuddering in spasms of joy. Then she felt his release, pulsing hot and steady in tandem with her own. She held him tighter, welcoming him into herself, accepting all of him.
Spent and gasping, they clung to each other. She kissed his sweat-dampened temple, savoring the saltiness of his skin. He covered her mouth with his in a soft kiss. A kiss that said she had given him a gift and he was grateful.
As he laid his head beside hers on the pillow, still joined, unwilling to sever their connection until it was absolutely necessary, she realized he’d gifted her as well. She’d never imagined it was so, but the giving and receiving of pleasure was no small thing.
They’d been lifted out of themselves for that blissful moment, transported to a place of delight she’d never dreamed existed. A part of them would always be joined in that secret place.
“That was . . . extraordinary,” he said as he finally rolled off her. She started to rise, but he pulled her back into his arms, snugging her against his body. “Don’t go, Lyn. Please. Not yet.”
“For a little while,” she agreed.
“You feel so wonderful. I . . .” He breathed a deep sigh of contentment and was asleep before he could put together another two words.
Her lips lifted in a smile before she dropped another kiss on his forehead. It would have to be enough. She’d pleased a pirate. And good heavens, but he’d pleased her in return. Her smile faded.
Tonight, she might lie abed with the pirate, but tomorrow she would still have to help the baron find a wife. Once his breathing told her he was deeply asleep, she slipped from his bed, donned her boy’s rags and crept out into the hall.
She hoped to heaven no one would catch her wandering about like this before she reached the safety of her own chamber. The outlandish garb she might be able to explain.
The tears streaking her cheeks were another matter altogether.
Chapter 18
Gabriel woke with her scent still in his nostrils. He almost always rose with a swollen cock, but this morning his erection was more insistent than usual. He was disappointed to find himself alone in the big bed. He didn’t remember Lyn leaving him, but the rest of his memories from last night were both vivid and fantastic. The old secret passages, the brittle stars overhead on the battlements and the hot, slick romp he and Jacquelyn shared.
She’d been wondrously wanton. And adventurous. And far more passionate than he’d ever expected from a woman who prided herself on dignity and decorum. He wondered for a moment if the wild, loving Jacquelyn in his mind was merely an erotic night phantom.
The long strand of ruddy brown hair on his pillow convinced him she was no dream.
“You little minx,” he said softly, remembering the heart-stopping bliss of her mouth on him.
Such a woman could bind a man to her so tightly, he’d never wish to be freed.
He wound the hair loosely around his finger and stared at it. Had she already wound herself around his heart?
Mayhap, but it wouldn’t matter, he told himself. Jacquelyn Wren might be a veritable Aphrodite by moonlight, but she was all Hera by day. The needs of the household would always come first.
Gabriel swung his legs out of bed, secreting the strand of hair in the pocket of his breeches before he tugged them on. Jacquelyn tried to insist he have a valet, but he’d been dressing himself without assistance for so long, he had no patience for anyone fluttering about in his chamber.
‘Now if Lyn volunteered for the position, I might be persuaded,’ he mused. No, that wouldn’t work. Aside from being scandalous, he was much too keen on being undressed by her to submit to a daily ritual of having her put on his clothing.
He knew she’d arranged for at least one of the women she’d chosen for him to come for tea later today. With a grimace of resignation, he decided to make the best of things. He’d sip from his cup correctly and make inane small talk till he was ready to burst out of his skin, but he refused to let reality dampen his spirits.
Somehow, he’d have Lyn again, he vowed as he clubbed his hair back into a neat queue. She was a treasure worth claiming far more than once.
After all, the secret passage was all that separated them. And nightfall was a scant day away. Even with a loveless marriage looming, he’d still have Lyn. He just had to convince her such an arrangement would work.
Whistling through his teeth, he descended the stairs to face his day.
The pandemonium in the breakfast room was his first inkling that things might not go his way. He heard her voice before he saw her, quivering with righteous indignation.
“Mr. Meriwether! What on earth are you doing?” Jacquelyn demanded stridently. “What is the meaning of this?”
Gabriel stopped under the lintel to survey the scene. His nieces were all on their hands and knees, scrub brushes, mops and pails of soapy water scattered about them on the flagstones. Hyacinth was whining incoherently. The twins were fighting back tears and Lily seemed to have swallowed some soap because a bubble formed on her lips every time she opened her mouth to howl. Only Daisy seemed to be enjoying herself, splashing and leaning on the brush to make long, messy strokes across the floor.
Mr. Meriwether drew himself up to his full height and favored Jacquelyn with a sharp salute.
“One of the little angels got herself in a spot of trouble last night, did she not?” the old man said. “When one o’ the crew makes a mistake, the whole crew faces discipline. Best way to keep it from happening again, mark my words.”
“These are wellborn girls. Not your pirate crew,” Jacquelyn argued. “No one gave you leave to impose your brand of punishment on them.”
“Mr. Meriwether hasn’t been my first mate for all these years for naught. His authority comes from mine,” Gabriel said from behind her. “And you must admit my nieces are sadly in want of discipline.”
When Jacquelyn rounded on him with a look of fury in her gray eyes, he wished he could unsay the words. All trace of the willing, pliable Lyn was gone. Mistress Wren was back with a vengeance.
“I will not have them treated like . . . like a press gang,” she said with ice in her tone.
“It’s not so bad,” Daisy said cheerfully. “Playing pirate is fun. Mr. Meriwether said we have to swab the decks, otherwise the planks will shrink and the ship’ll be taking on water before we know it. Isn’t that right, Meri?”
“Right you are, Miss Daisy,” the old salt said with a grin. Then he sobered and looked askance at Gabriel. “I didn’t wish to overstep ye, Cap’n, but ye weren’t up and about yet and it’s the Code I was after keepin’. Die all, die merrily, ye know.”
“These are children, not buccaneers. And I’ll not have them treated so,” Jacquelyn said, a frown marring her brow. “Die all, die merrily. What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means we share all things. Plen
ty and want, reward and punishment,” Gabriel explained. “If a crew member knows his actions will affect his mates, he’ll think twice before he brings retribution down on all of them. It’s a valid principle and Meri is correct in applying it to the girls.”
Jacquelyn stared at him as if he’d suddenly sprouted another head.
“Come, children,” she said scooping Lily up into her arms. “It’s time for your Latin lessons. You’ve had enough pirate nonsense for one day.”
“Belay that,” Gabriel countermanded. “These are my nieces and I’ll see to their education. Right now, improving their behavior is more important than conjugating verbs. Hyacinth, stand up, girl.”
“Really, my lord—“ Jacquelyn began as she set Lily down to gird herself for battle.
“That will be all, Mistress,” he said with an upraised hand. “Pray, do not interfere again.”
Her mouth opened wordlessly, then clamped shut. But the set of her jaw spoke volumes.
Why was Jacquelyn fighting him? He hated giving her a dressing down in so public a fashion, but she wouldn’t listen to him otherwise. Now she merely folded her arms across her chest and stepped back a pace. If he looked closely, he suspected he might find steam leaking from her ears. Gabriel turned back to his nieces.
“Hyacinth?”
Sniffling, the girl rose to her feet.
“Has Mr. Meriwether laid into you with the back of his hand?”
“No, uncle.” She blanched at the thought.
“Then Meri is more merciful than I, for you committed an error worthy of corporal punishment,” he said.
Gabriel’s father had always believed a warm bum was the best insurance of future good behavior. Lord knows, Gabe had eaten his supper standing because he couldn’t sit more often than not. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jacquelyn glaring daggers at him.
Didn’t she want him to take more of an interest in his brother’s girls? How better than to see to their safety by disciplining them now before they could get themselves into more trouble than he could get them out of?
“Do you recollect your mistake of last evening?” he asked Hyacinth, softening his tone.