“Is it true? Do you intend to marry the Scot?”
“Yes.” Her voice was a low whisper. “The wedding will be in London during the Season.”
“So you love him, then.”
She turned to him, her eyes narrowed in confusion. “Love? Of course not. I barely know him.”
“Then why?”
She laughed, but the sound was bitter. “I forget sometimes that you have spent almost your whole life up here in Yorkshire. I am marrying him because he is a gentleman. And he is marrying me for my dowry. We get along well enough.” She looked back out at the creek. “He believes I need a hobby.”
He gaped at her. “A hobby. What hobby?”
She shrugged, her voice curt. “I don’t know. Stitching. Gardening. Fishing. He doesn’t care what it is so long as it occupies my time.”
“Do you want to do any of those things?”
“Of course not. If I did, I would be doing them already.” She pushed away from her rock and paced to the edge of the creek. A moment later, she was bending to untie her boots and take off her stockings. “But that’s just the point. I have no purpose. Nothing to occupy my time.” She sighed as she stepped into the creek far enough for the water to bubble over her ankles. “Except nearly killing Tadd.”
“He did that on his own. And you couldn’t have stopped him.”
She whipped around. “I bloody well could have! You said so! I should have watched him closer. We shouldn’t have gone—”
He bolted forward, grabbing her arms with a slight jerk. “Those boys have been at the canal every day since they arrived. With the nanny or without, it doesn’t matter. All boys sneak away and find us.”
She blinked, obviously startled, but not by his words. Her eyes were on his mouth, and as he watched, she wet her lips. A flash of dark pink, a shimmer of wetness on her lips. He felt heat from her body, and without conscious thought his hands gentled until they were a caress.
“You are another man’s fiancée.”
She nodded, a quick dip of her chin. “I know. But…”
She didn’t finish her words, so his mind created an answer of his own. “But he is a gentleman, and you long for something else. Someone rough like me.”
“I don’t know what I want.”
“Yes, you do. You want me.”
She didn’t deny it, but he saw the anguish in her eyes. “You said this was temporary. It doesn’t end the restlessness.”
“It doesn’t.” And yet holding her this close, he didn’t care. He wanted her in his arms. It was all he could do to keep himself from throwing her to the ground and taking her like the animal he was.
“I don’t know what is wrong with me,” she whispered.
He touched her cheek, his fingers curling around her jaw as his thumb brushed gently along her skin. She was so soft, so beautiful. “Nothing,” he rasped. “Nothing at all.”
“Liar,” she whispered. Her body was leaning toward him. He ought to resist, but he wasn’t that strong. The hand that he’d held on her shoulder slipped lower and back. Soon he was wrapping his arm around her waist and tugging her tighter against his groin.
“I’m not lying, Jo.” Her scent was drugging. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, imprinting her scent on his mind. And in that moment, a memory flashed through his mind. “Do you remember the first time we met here? By the creek?”
“I was restless. It had been so hot during the day, but I couldn’t sleep. And the trees seemed to be talking to me. I know that sounds ridiculous but—”
“I hear their whispers every night.”
She smiled and released a tight breath. “Megan was afraid of the woods. Still is, I think, but I love them.”
“It’s the quiet.”
She nodded. “But the land is filled with life. Scurrying animals, the hoot of an owl.”
“The crunch of the sticks beneath my boots and the gurgle of the water.”
“The rain cleans the air,” she whispered. “Which is silly because it makes the soil smell.”
“It makes the land fertile. Strong.”
She flashed him a smile. He could tell she understood. She felt the land as he did. She knew the call to be here, and just like that he knew what she needed. It came as a flash of insight, more felt than understood. But in that moment, he knew the truth about her. He knew what she needed, and it wasn’t his touch. And it certainly wasn’t some damned hobby. She needed a connection to the land to make her happy, and he had just the solution.
“Tomorrow, one o’clock, come to my home. Do you know where the castle is?”
“Of course I do, but that’s luncheon. Mama will be—”
“Make an excuse. It’s important, Jo. Promise me you’ll come.”
She smiled. “Of course I will. One o’clock.”
So simple, so easy. Did she know the excitement that showed in her eyes? Did she realize how close their bodies were? Meanwhile, his mind hopped back to what they’d been saying before.
“Do you remember that first night I saw you?” he rasped. He was speaking as a way of distracting himself, of slowing what he knew would happen eventually. But not just yet. He would hold onto his honor for a few moments more. “You were like a wild animal.”
“I was braying at the moon like a dog!” she said, and this close—still touching her face—he could feel the heat of her blush.
“You were so incredible, I wanted to capture you, to own you like a pet. And yet I knew to tame you would be to destroy you.”
She frowned at him. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Have you ever seen an eagle fly? It soars. On land it’s too large: unwieldy and ugly. It squats in the trees and makes the most god-awful sound. But the moment it launches into the air, it’s like you’re looking at an angel. You cannot imagine the width of its wings. There is grace in every stroke, and when it attacks, there is nothing deadlier in the skies.”
She tilted her head and frowned at him. “Are you comparing me to a fat, ugly eagle?”
He chuckled, and the vibration seemed to roll from his body into hers. He knew because he felt her tremble against his hands. “You were like an eaglet trying to launch into the sky. I could see the struggle in you, feel the frustration.” He dropped his forehead to hers. “I still do,” he said. “You are so close. I can feel it.”
“But I can’t fly.”
“You can. Sweet Jo, I know you can. You just need the space to run.”
She sighed. “That’s a rather mixed bag of poetry, especially for a dour Yorkshireman.”
He smiled at that, but she didn’t let him speak.
“But it’s just poetry, Will. It doesn’t apply to me.”
“And how do you know that? Because you couldn’t find yourself in London? What space is there in a ballroom? You need the open skies. You need…” Me. My home. My life. “You need to be here in Yorkshire for that.”
She shook her head once, her forehead rolling back and forth across his. “I need to get married and have children.”
“Is that what your mother says? What the Scot thinks?”
“It’s what everyone thinks.”
He touched her chin then, tilting her head up so that their mouths aligned. “They don’t matter, Jo. They don’t know you.”
“And you do?” she said, her breath a heated caress across his lips.
“Yes. God, yes, I do.” And then he kissed her. A press of his mouth, a sweep of his tongue, and the slow, steady possession of her body. He hadn’t intended it to be more than a kiss. He knew it was wrong. Even thinking of her was wrong, but she was in his arms. Her mouth was open and her tongue swept across his in a wild tease. He couldn’t have her. He couldn’t!
And yet, as he touched her face and invaded her mouth, he knew he would. It had been inevitable from the first moment she breached this haven five years ago. He would have her. Here. Tonight.
Then no matter whom she married, she would be his.
Twelve
; Finally, he was kissing her. Josephine knew it was wrong. She was betrothed, but at this moment, she didn’t feel promised to anyone else. And with Will’s arms around her, she didn’t want to think about dowries or canals. She just wanted to be a woman. And this woman was kissing the man who knew her so well.
Plus, she thought with a soft sigh, she knew him too. She knew the feel of his arms as they tightened around her body. She knew the smell of him: a tangy musk that made her insides go liquid. And she knew the heart of him as a man who constantly struggled to forge his place in a hard world. It was turning him bitter, she knew, and she wondered if he understood how she wanted to soothe him.
She hadn’t the words to say it, but she had her caress as she burrowed her fingers into his hair. She had her body as she pressed her soft belly against the rock hard heat of him. And she had her heart beating hard in her chest as he began unbuttoning the buttons down the front of her dress. She felt the fabric loosen. Soon it was drooping down her shoulders, but she was kissing him. There was no room in her thoughts for anything but the thrust of his tongue and the demands he put on her there.
God, she loved kissing him. Frenzied one moment, then teasing as he nipped at her lips. Then bold as he thrust inside. She pushed back, she twirled her tongue around his, and she even sucked once. That made him growl deep in his throat as her dress finally slipped down to her feet.
She tilted her head back, gasping for breath. And in that moment’s inattention, he grasped the bottom of her shift and pulled it up over her head. She was naked, and he was gazing at the moonlight on her body as if struck dumb.
She didn’t want to focus on him. She didn’t want to stop the drugging progress of what they were doing. But he had stopped everything, and she grew self-conscious. So she began to draw herself inward, using her arms to cover herself. He stopped her with a single touch on her left wrist.
“Will?”
It took him three tries before he found the breath to speak. And even then, his voice was husky. “You are like Venus stepped from the ocean. I have never seen a woman so beautiful.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that. He meant what he said. She was stunningly beautiful to him, and that flushed her with a warm pleasure. Then, while she was still absorbing that revelation, he shifted his hand and slowly stroked across the top of her breasts. His touch was feather-soft, his expression reverent, and her skin tingled in the wake of his caress.
“Breathe deeply for me,” he said as his hand trailed to the side.
She did what he wanted even before she’d realized he’d asked for it. And as her breasts lifted to the moonlight, he cupped her. Both hands holding her as his thumbs stroked back and forth across her nipples.
She gasped and closed her eyes. The tingling from what he did flushed her skin all the way up her chin and down to her womb. Then, as her breath stuttered, he pinched her. Both sides. Pinch, then twist, and her knees went weak.
“I want it to be you,” she whispered.
“What?” He didn’t stop what he was doing. Having his hands on her breasts was magical, flooding her body with sensations while her mind drifted away. When he spoke, his question was like a distant sound that she had no ability to answer. She wanted him in her body. She wanted him to claim her. She simply wanted him.
So she opened her eyes and pressed her hands against his shirt. She had no dexterity to unbutton it, but he understood.
“Everything,” she whispered. “Let me see you as you see me.”
He nodded and began to undress. She watched dazed as his glorious chest appeared. But he was in shadow and she was so wonderfully naked, it made her feel free.
So as he bent to shuck his pants and boots, she stepped away from him and into the deepest part of the water. How many times had she wanted to dance like this, leaping from stone to stone with nothing to drag her down?
So she did. The water only came up above her ankles. This was the creek, not the river. But it was heavenly. And soon she could turn to look over her shoulder at his beautiful body. Hard muscle rippled as he moved, his belly was flat, and his organ… Oh my! She had never seen anything like it, not even on the Greek statues.
He was large and thick and thrust forward toward her. She smiled. “Can I touch it?”
He swallowed. She saw it distinctly as he silently joined her in the water. She stepped so that he was the one touched by the moonlight. And then she tentatively began to caress him.
Smooth head, slightly wet. Thick stalk rippled with veins. Hot in her hand—like a brand—and yet so soft. She explored him gently while his breath rasped between them. She knew there was more, so she reached down below. She held his sac in her hands, lifting it as he had held her breasts. Then she squeezed lightly.
“Mother of God,” he gasped.
She looked at his face, seeing the way he gazed at her. There was awe mixed with hunger. And a tension that she knew he held back for her sake. Who else would let her do this to him? Who else would strip naked so she could touch and play? Only Will. And only in this burbling creek at midnight.
“Does that fit easily inside a woman?” Inside me?
He nodded, the motion jerky. “It will stretch you, but you will like it.”
At his words, she became aware of her belly as an empty thing. How would he feel? How much could he fill? She held out her arms and lifted her face to the sky. “I feel so free.” Then she looked back at him. “Will you show me now? Will you…” She swallowed. “Please, I want to know. Now!” The urgency came because she was beginning to think. Her conscience was starting to prick her as she realized what she was doing and what it might mean in the future. And that was the last thing she wanted at this moment.
He must have understood. He must have known how she felt because he came up to her. He kissed her once—deep and drugging. And as he did so, he gently moved her backward a few steps until she was beneath the largest tree, one that shadowed the creek. When she would have asked what he wanted, he lifted her arms and gently wrapped her hands around a thick branch.
“Hold still. Just… hold it.”
She tightened her fingers, gripping hard as she nodded.
Then he began to touch her. All over her body. Back first, then around to her breasts. Nipples, the dip at her waist, and fluttering over her belly. He walked around her, touching everything, and it was the most magical, most frustrating sensation in the world. She wanted something more, and yet she didn’t want this to stop.
“Close your eyes,” he whispered to her from behind. His breath heated her ear and made her shudder in awareness.
She did as he bid, closing her eyes and letting her head drop back. She was open to everything, wanting every sensation he could give her. He didn’t disappoint. He wrapped around her from behind. His hands held and kneaded her breasts while she felt the hot thrust of his organ behind. Not between her legs, but up between her cheeks. Then he began kissing her shoulder and her neck: sharp nips, followed by the soothing swirl of his tongue. Then she’d feel his breath skate across her wet skin. And all the while his hands were on her breasts and his body thrust upward against her back.
She moaned. It was a wild animal sound, and she felt him surge against her in response. She wanted to touch him; she even released a hand to reach behind her. But he was firm when he grabbed her wrist and put her hand back to the branch.
“You can’t. I’ll lose control.”
“Please Will,” she gasped.
“Trust me.” Then his hands slipped lower on her body. “Let me.”
She did. He didn’t even have to ask as his hand lowered across her belly. She remembered the feel of him between her legs. She wanted it again with an ache that consumed her.
He slipped between her thighs easily. The glide of his finger was too little, the press of his finger too small. She spread her legs. She wanted him inside, but not his hand. “Not enough,” she said.
“We can’t,” he said as he pulled his finger to that electric spot hig
her up. He rubbed it in hard circles and she cried out, bucking against his hand.
“More,” she said.
He thrust his fingers deep. Two inside her. All was slick and wet, and it wasn’t enough.
“More!”
He rubbed her again, high up and hard. The movement of his fingers was frenzied and it was just what she wanted. This tightening of her body, a coiling of everything she was. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted to be filled. She wanted everything at once.
It was coming soon: that glorious release she remembered. But she knew now about that. She wanted something different. She wanted him in a way she couldn’t even verbalize.
He was thrusting hard against her backside. His organ was slick and full and in the wrong place. So she let go of the branch. Her hands dropped down like heavy weights, pulling her whole body into the stream. She collapsed onto all fours, his hand ripping away from her groin as she fell.
“Jo!” he cried as he tried to catch her. He didn’t need to. She had landed in water, the soft mud cushioning her hands and knees.
But then he came down on top of her, his body a beautiful weight along her back. And with his movement, his organ was freed from her back. It popped down between her legs. Oh God, he was right there.
She arched her back, pressing herself back onto him. He grabbed her arms, her name a cry of alarm.
“Jo!”
But he didn’t move away. In truth, his hips jerked slightly, pressing him inside her just the tiniest bit.
That’s what she wanted. There!
“I want it to be you.”
“Jo,” he groaned. “It’s wrong.”
She shifted her weight, taking one of his hands and leading it to her breast. He moved slowly, reluctantly, but he had no power against her. He would give her what she wanted. And sure enough, the moment his hand touched her breasts, he began to knead her. He twisted her nipple and she moaned at the feel.
Then he leaned back a bit, taking his weight on his knees. Then his other hand went between her legs, stroking her where she loved it. God yes, this felt so good! But the rest of him—his thick, strong organ—was right there at her opening, teasing her with its nearness. She wanted it. She wanted him.
Jade Lee Page 11