He groaned softly and crushed his mouth to hers, his kiss hard, possessive, consuming. After a moment, he pulled back. He didn’t speak, but the question—the vulnerability—was there, deep in his eyes.
She kissed his lips, his cheek, and his chin, his afternoon beard scraping against her mouth. Her hands moved lower, stroking over first his back and then his backside, and her lips moved lower, too, kissing his chest over the linen of his shirt.
There was no time for shyness. No space for being tentative. She had to show him, had to prove that every word she’d said was the truth. Because unless she proved it to him now, when she left him, he’d think she didn’t care.
She was doing it to keep him safe. Not because she didn’t care, but because she did.
She tugged at his shirt, pulling it from the waistband of his trousers. Her hands moved up again, this time beneath his shirt, stroking up and down his back and then moving to the front. He shivered when her palms rubbed over his chest.
Her fingers found the ties of his falls, and she worked them, finally tugging them open and pushing the waist of his trousers down, revealing everything to her as she knelt, pulling his drawers and trousers along with her. When she reached his ankles, she nudged him aside, and he stepped out of them.
When he was free of his trousers, she looked up at him, now naked except for his shirt. Reaching beneath it, she stroked the long, hard length of him, feeling the silkiness of his most private skin beneath her fingers. Slowly, she kissed her way up his legs. Her lips traveled around his hips and abdomen over his shirt, and then she pressed a kiss to his shaft.
He jerked beneath her. “God, Meg,” he gasped. And she knew, with certainty, that this wasn’t only a first for her. He’d never had a woman’s mouth on this part of him before.
That fact gave her confidence to explore further. Nudging under his shirt, she swiped her lips up and down him slowly, learning the shape of him, testing with her tongue. She kissed him all over—small, soft kisses that covered him up and down. And then she was at his tip again.
Pausing, she glanced up at him. His eyes were half-closed, and a look of utter ecstasy softened his features. Yes. Sarah had told her that men adored this, that it gave them extreme pleasure, and now she knew that her friend had been right.
Slowly, she opened her mouth and took him in deeply, as much of him as she could hold in her mouth, pressing her lips against him just as the entrance of her body might press against him. When she had him as far as she could take him, she pulled back, keeping up the pressure, sweeping her lips and tongue over his silky length.
Encouraged by his low groan, she kept moving her lips over him, following with her fingers, rubbing and stroking. Her own body heat rose from the inside out, as if having him in her mouth was sending a message to the rest of her, preparing her body for his ultimate invasion.
His fingers tangled in her hair, coaxing her closer, deeper. She complied, but within moments, he pulled his body away from her with a gasp. Before she could blink, he’d clasped her arms and hauled her to her feet. Drawing her against his body, he held her and kissed her deeply, thoroughly, and she realized he was moving forward and pressing her against the door.
Wrapping one hand behind her neck, he grabbed handfuls of her skirts with the other, yanking them upward. Crushing the fabric between them, he opened her legs with his knee and drove into her.
She hadn’t expected this—not so fast. But her body gave way to his, filling her with such a powerful, exquisite sensation that she cried out. He bent down and covered her mouth with his, muffling the sound.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and wantonly hooked one leg around his thighs, tugging him tighter against her. He thrust into her, pinning her to the door, and pleasure stormed through her, a veritable flood of sensation. They exchanged mad kisses, covering each other’s faces, their necks, their collarbones, their lips ravenous.
All the while, Will thrust his long, thick length into her over and over again. The friction of his skin against hers sent streams of pressure that built, with every deep penetration, into a torrent.
She gripped him hard, digging her nails into his muscled shoulders through his shirt. Her skirt rustled all around them with their frantic movements. She kept kissing him, wanting to inhale him, to take his masculine, salty essence in and keep it for herself.
His thrusts grew impossibly deeper, impossibly stronger. The streams of pressure coiling inside her built and coalesced. And then the dam burst, and pleasure streamed through her. Opening her mouth in a silent scream, she arched backward, her body undulating as Will continued to move powerfully within her. He held her tight, keeping her safe, keeping her whole, as she tumbled over the waterfall, diving into the warm pool of pleasure that covered her, suffused every inch of her body.
Soon after, Will joined her, tensing as he held her tight, pressing his lips to her forehead as his body hardened all over. And then he released in his own wave of pleasure, trembling as he spilled his seed inside her.
They stayed there, without moving, for several minutes, sweet aftershocks rumbling through them both, neither willing to relinquish the pleasure while it lasted. But eventually the tremors died away, and Meg’s leg lowered from Will’s thigh and her arms slid from his neck. Her skirts fell as he slipped from her body and moved away. She slumped against the door, watching him as he fumbled for his trousers, sat on the edge of the bed, and pulled them on, one leg at a time.
After he’d stood and fastened them, he looked across the room at her and smiled. It was a crooked, boyish smile, something she hadn’t seen from him for eight long years. It melted her. He rose, and she moved into his arms. There they stood, simply holding each other.
Forgive me, Will, for what I’m going to do. You might hate me, but at least you’ll be alive.
Jessica did not want to go to Sussex. It was for stronger reasons than she’d initially thought. She could do without the dancing and the suitors, after all.
She would be stuck at Stratford House in Sussex. Helpless. She’d rather be with David, helping him find evidence against Caversham and the Marquis of Millbridge. She desperately wanted both of them to hang for what they’d done to Meg and Serena.
Not to mention the fact that she very much wanted to stay near David Briggs.
In truth, she couldn’t understand why she’d initially found that scar above his eyebrow so ugly. Now, it struck her as a mark of his masculinity, proof of his bravery, and something that added a great deal of character to his face.
She couldn’t stop thinking about the softness of his lips.
When he came to see Jonathan to discuss the case against Caversham and Millbridge, she hovered nearby, serving them tea, listening to the conversation, and admiring Briggs’s physique. He was neither too brawny nor too thin. He was hard all over, as evidenced by the firmness of muscle she’d seen when she’d stormed into his quarters and felt when she’d kissed him.
His eyes were a beautiful shade of blue, dark like the oceans he sailed upon, and they crinkled at the edges when he smiled. He had a strong nose and chin, and those lips, oh, how they made her knees wobble. The perfect bow, not thin like so many aristocratic men’s lips, but plump, soft, and warm. And sweet. When she’d kissed him, it felt like honey had been pouring over her lips and straight through her.
He was—somehow—more than all the suitors she’d acquired in London ballrooms. More than all of them combined.
Unfortunately, though, he wasn’t a suitor. And Jessica didn’t have the first idea how to make him one. It might prove difficult if he really did despise her as much as his scowls and mumbled single-syllable words directed toward her might indicate.
Today, he and Jonathan were in the drawing room, discussing Caversham and Millbridge. Apparently, Caversham and his ship had disappeared a few days after Jonathan and his companions had rescued Serena. Briggs had stifled his urge to chase after the man and had instead continued his search for information in London.
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Jessica had just served them tea and was hovering in the background like a servant instead of going upstairs and embroidering with Beatrice, who was expecting her. Jonathan looked up and gave her a pointed look, but she just frowned back at him. Sighing, he ignored her and went back to his conversation.
“It appears that Millbridge is using at least some of the funds to raise an army,” Briggs was saying.
“What for?” Jonathan asked.
Briggs shrugged. “That’s the question, my lord. No one knows. He has a large warehouse in the docklands packed to the gills with explosives.”
“Good God, wouldn’t the customs officials be aware of such a thing?”
“They’ve been known to turn a blind eye, especially when presented with enough blunt to quiet them.”
Jonathan took a thoughtful drink of his brandy. “You make it sound like he’s building an army to take over the country, or some such madness. But of course, he’d never succeed.”
“No, he would not.”
“And we cannot forget that one of his closest friends, the Duke of Cumberland, is a member of the royal family.”
“Third in line to the throne, in fact,” Briggs mused. “Perhaps he intends to use the weapons against a smaller entity?”
“Such as?” Jonathan asked.
Jessica thought hard. What would a man like the Marquis of Millbridge want to destroy? She knew from listening to previous conversations that Millbridge was extremely ambitious. But to what end?
It was all very confusing. In the end, she didn’t care. She just wanted them to find enough evidence for the brothers to hang, so they’d leave her sisters and poor little Jake alone for good.
The men concluded their meeting, and Briggs promised to bring Jonathan any information he might find in the next few days. As he was leaving, he paused at the door.
“I’ve written to the captain. I think it might be best I continue my investigation in Cornwall. I believe I’ve reached a dead end for information here in London. There is more evidence to be found where Caversham and his ships have been located most often, and that is in the West Indies and in Cornwall.”
“And he won’t go to the West Indies now, not when he knows his son is somewhere in the United Kingdom,” Jonathan said.
“True. I might encounter him in Cornwall. If I do”—Briggs paused—“I will be ready for him.”
“It sounds like you ought to go, if you’ve exhausted your sources here in London. I’m certain Langley will agree.”
“I’ll wait to hear from him, then.” With a nod to Jonathan, and pointedly ignoring Jessica, Briggs went out the door.
Anger flushed within Jessica, and she strode after him, ignoring Jonathan’s soft warning. “Jessica—”
She shut the door against him and hurried down the passageway after David. “Wait!”
He stopped, hesitated, then slowly turned to her. He gave a formal half bow. “Miss Jessica.”
She stopped in front of him, looking up into those lovely, stormy blue eyes. “You may call me Jessica. Forget the ‘miss’ part.”
He raised a brow, said, “I don’t think so,” and began to turn away.
She grabbed his arm. “Wait!”
She heard the soft whistle as he released a breath through his teeth. “What is it?”
Her heart was about to pound right out of her chest. She licked her lips. She was brave, always had been. She wouldn’t falter now.
“I like you,” she said in a soft voice. “But I promise to leave you alone, if you tell me to my face that you despise me as much as you pretend to.”
His face relaxed from its unbreakable mask. “Jesus,” he mumbled, looking up to the ceiling as if asking for deliverance.
They stood there for a long, silent moment, as he slowly leveled his gaze to hers.
“I don’t despise you,” he finally said on a near growl. He glanced over his shoulder and down the corridor beyond her. Apparently finding no one to overhear, he leaned toward her and murmured, “Damn it, Jessica. I can’t stop thinking about you.”
A warm flush of pleasure washed through her. So his behavior, the constant annoyance directed at her, was all an act. She’d known that, somewhere deep inside. She’d known he liked her. She grinned. “Why try?”
His blue eyes narrowed. “Are you mad?”
“Not at all.”
“You are a lady. Untouchable.”
“Oh, that’s not true. I’m quite touchable indeed.” She didn’t mean to flirt, truly she didn’t, but she couldn’t help it.
His eyes were slits now. “Don’t be stupid,” he grated out.
“I’m not stupid, either. You should know that by now.”
“You’re nineteen years old,” he whispered harshly. “You’re liable to catch some earl or duke, like your sisters have done. You’re the youngest, most beautiful, most eligible Donovan sister. Trust me, you don’t want to ruin all that by being compromised by a man like me.”
She stared at him, appraising. Was this an example of a man being noble? If so, she liked it very much.
She wanted to tell him, “Oh, yes, I certainly do want to be compromised by a man like you,” but that would sound too flippant—even though it was the truth.
So she simply nodded. Raising her hand, she touched his cheek with her fingertips. “I like you, David Briggs. More than I like any duke or earl. And that’s not going away. I may appear to be frivolous and superficial, but when I decide to go after something, I am loyal and constant, and I never give up.”
He shook his head. “Your family would never approve.”
“Nonsense,” she said. Although it was partially true. Her mother and aunt would both have fits and probably swoon repeatedly from the disgrace of her being associated with a—gasp!—sailor. Her sisters and brothers-in-law, though they would be supportive, would worry for her.
“You’re leaving for Sussex in a few days.”
Pressing her lips together, she nodded. Even though Caversham had disappeared, Jonathan still thought it would be better for the family to retreat to Sussex. She hated the idea.
“And I’ll be doing my duty for my employer, far away from Sussex. Give it a week, Jess. You’ll forget about me once you’re in the country.”
Jess. Only her sisters called her that. But she liked how it emerged from his mouth. So smooth. So masculine.
“I won’t forget,” she whispered. “Will you forget about me when you’re at sea?”
“Never.”
They stared at each other for a long moment. Looking into those blue eyes, studying that rugged face, Jessica decided that he was truly the handsomest man she’d ever known.
Then, with a brief nod, he turned and left, leaving her standing alone in the corridor.
Chapter Sixteen
Will was determined to end Caversham’s reign of terror over the woman he loved, and soon, before the damage the pirate caused was irreparable. Meg lived in fear, and it was tearing Will apart. She was so easily frightened. It had become so pervasive that if he, or anyone else, made an unexpected move, she’d jump in alarm.
Yesterday, she hadn’t allowed Jake to go out riding with the servants. That had resulted in a temper tantrum that surprised Will—he’d never seen Jake react so strongly to anything. He’d punched and kicked and screamed, and Meg had just held him, serenely saying no, it was too dangerous. The boy hadn’t understood, and it seemed like hours had passed before she was able to calm him.
Will had spent two full days in Liverpool, talking with the man in charge of the construction of the Endeavor, hiring sailors experienced with steam-driven vessels and outfitting the ship with all the supplies they’d require for a journey of unknown duration. The days were long and busy, and tonight when Will arrived at the house in Prescot, it was past midnight and the house was dark.
He led his horse into the small stables at the back of the house and brushed it down, murmuring to it as he did so. When the animal was comfortable in its stall, Will tru
dged back to the house, exhaustion settling over him. He hoped Thomas wouldn’t thrash too much tonight. The boy was a wild sleeper—usually, Will either woke with the child draped over him or with his toes in his face.
Just inside the front door, a lit lantern awaited him. He took it gratefully and carried it upstairs to his room. He entered, seeing the still form of his son in his bed, and proceeded to undress, stripping off his coats and shirt, then lowering himself onto the edge of the bed to remove his boots.
There was a soft mumble as he depressed the side of the bed, and Will glanced over at Thomas, making sure he hadn’t awakened the boy.
“Hm,” he murmured in surprise.
Jake lay beside Thomas, one little arm flung over the older boy’s torso.
Will was sitting, boots off, contemplating his options, when a soft knock sounded on the door. He opened it to Meg standing in her nightgown with a thin robe pulled over her shoulders.
“You’re home,” she whispered.
Home. He liked that word coming from her.
Taking the lantern, he stepped out into the small landing separating their two rooms and shut the door behind him quietly so as not to awaken the boys. “Yes. It was a long day.”
She nodded. “I waited up for you. I can’t sleep until I know you’re home safe.”
He gestured toward his room. “Jake?”
“He had another one of his tantrums today.” She sighed. “About my not allowing him to ride. As a concession, I told him he could sleep with Thomas for a little while. I’ll go get him.”
She made to walk around him, but on impulse, he reached out, grabbing her arm. “Wait.”
She gave him a questioning look.
“Will you… stay with me for a while?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Of course. Come into my room. Should I go downstairs and fetch some wine?”
“Yes, wine sounds very good.” Maybe it would loosen his knotted muscles and help him to fall asleep.
She took the lantern from him, and as she went downstairs to fetch the wine, he walked into her room, rolling his tight shoulders. There was only one chair in here—in front of her dressing table—so he sat on the edge of the bed.
Pleasures of a Tempted Lady Page 21