by Shana Galen
George Washington. Think of George Washington.
But she wouldn't allow him to retreat. She moaned low in her throat and followed him, her tongue invading his mouth with sweet urgency.
"Oh, God, Maddie," Jack growled, cupping her head between his hands and kissing her deeper. "You don't know how much I want you right now."
"I can feel how much," she whispered against his lips, and then, a moment later, must have realized what she'd said because she pulled back, a horrified look in her eyes.
"What I meant was—"
"I know exactly what you meant, sweetheart," Jack answered. The dawn, gray with a tinge of rose, was beginning to break, and the soft light played on her face. The colors dancing over her golden complexion took his breath away. She was so beautiful, so sweet, so innocent.
He shouldn't be the one lying with her, touching her.
"Touch me," she whispered.
"What?" Jack jerked back in surprise.
"Don't make me say it again," she said. "I feel how much you want me. I want you to know how much I want you, and I—I'm burning up. I need you to touch me. Hurry."
Jack closed his eyes, rested his head on her shoulder. "Maddie, I'm not the man who should be touching you. You're innocent. You don't know what you're asking me."
He felt her smile and looked at her face. "I may be innocent, but I'm not uneducated. I know what happens between men and women."
"No." Jack shook his head, but bastard that he was, he didn't move away from her. "I can't be the one to take your innocence."
"Then don't take it," she murmured into his ear. "Give me an introductory lesson. Touch me, Jack."
And as though her words alone wouldn't have tempted a saint, her hand found his hard length and stroked it through his trousers. Her dark blue eyes met his. "Do you like this?" she asked. "Do you want me to touch you, skin against skin?"
Oh, God, yes.
"Oh, God, no." He'd never be able to deliver her to Dover as a virgin if he allowed that. He didn't know how much longer he could trust himself as it was.
He eased himself away from her and grasped her hand when she reached for him again. "Speaking of fair, it's my turn to touch you." He raised her hand until it was resting beside her head. "Give me your other hand, sweetheart."
He saw the question in her eyes, but she didn't ask it. She gave a quick glance at the lightening skies, then lifted her other hand to his. Amazing. She wanted this as much as he did. He imprisoned both of her hands under one of his and held them loosely.
For the moment she was his, entirely in his power. He saw her realize it, and her breath quickened.
Keeping his gaze locked on her dark blue eyes, he lowered his free hand to her bodice. He'd been dreaming about this, and he took his time drawing the material down over her thin chemise.
The more he revealed, the faster she breathed, until her breasts heaved against the flimsy material. Jack leaned down and placed his mouth over the exposed half-moon of flesh. She jerked, and when he didn't release her hands, she moaned.
"Hurry, Jack. More. Hurry."
Jack frowned. Most women liked it when he moved slowly. But he wasn't going to argue. Instead, he used his teeth to lower her chemise and stays, and her breasts, already straining, came free.
In the cool morning, her dark, round nipples were hard and taut. Her breasts were large, almost more than could fill his hand, and her skin was honey-colored. "God, you're beautiful," he whispered, allowing his breath to skate over her flesh.
He bent to the valley between her breasts, kissing her there, and inhaling the sweet fragrance of her skin, of her. Moving his mouth to one side, he laved the rounded flesh, inching higher and higher until she whimpered and pushed against him, all but giving him her nipple.
He took it eagerly, licking the large round nub, making it harder, tighter, sucking it, until she strained against him and cried out, "Hurry!"
Jesus! Demanding little chit. How was a man supposed to employ any skill with this kind of pressure?
But, obediently, he moved to her other breast, sucking and nibbling until she was crying out again. And then just when she would have urged him to hurry, he lowered his free hand and cupped her between her legs.
That silenced her.
In fact, she opened her eyes, which had been tightly closed, and stared at him. Her pupils were dark and large, those blue eyes dominating her face.
Without looking away, he let his hand fist around the material of her dress and tug it upward. Inch by inch the fabric revealed more of her body. He ached to look, but he kept his gaze locked on hers, watching as her eyes warmed to liquid sapphire.
Finally, he held the hem in his hands. Slowly, he released the material, leaving his hand free to cup her in truth. She'd told him she was burning up, and she hadn't lied. She was so hot, he almost jerked away at first.
Like the rest of her, the skin here was smooth and soft, the curls at the juncture of her thighs damp with her need. He stroked her outer lips, feeling her body shake and tremble as he did so.
And then, ignoring her previous orders, he moved as slowly as he could, parting those lips and slipping one finger inside.
Molten heat.
That was all he could think. She was so slick and ready for him. He pushed his finger deeper inside her, and she cried out, her eyes going so dark they were almost as black as his own.
And then he had to see her. Dragging his gaze from hers, he took a leisurely perusal of her, starting with those glorious breasts, spilling out of her bodice. The nipples were still hard and now wet from his ministrations.
His gaze traveled down her white gown with its little lavender bows. The bows were bunched up along her waist, and he could see her stocking-clad legs tangled with his.
And then his gaze fastened on her bare hips and thighs, the soft chestnut curls between her legs, and the tender pink skin where his finger moved in and out. Her hips rose to meet his movements, her body moving instinctively in that timeless rhythm.
Jack slid into her again and imagined all the ways he could give her pleasure. He felt her tighten around him and knew it would not be long now until she exploded.
"Oh, no!" Her voice was anguished, regretful. "We have to stop."
Her hands pushed against the hand holding her prisoner, and he freed her, slipping his finger out of her as she sat and began to right her clothing.
"What the hell—"
"I'm sorry," she said rapidly, not looking at him. "It's dawn. The sun is rising. We should— we should start moving."
"But—" His brain was still far behind hers, and his cock throbbed insistently. "So, just like that, we're done?"
He sat beside her, and she stood, jerking her dress down and covering those shapely legs. Her hands were shaking and she looked a bit unsteady on her feet. "Sir, we can't afford to lie about all day. We have to find Ashley and Mr. Dover."
"Sir? Sir?" Jack knew he sounded surly, but he felt surly. "What the hell's going on? One moment I have my hand—"
"Lord Blackthorne!"
"Fine. But why the rapid about-face? When you said to hurry, I thought you meant—"
"I think it best if we don't discuss the matter any further," she said, lifting her trembling hands to her hair. "Do you have any suggestions for locating the others without alerting Lord Bleven or my father or anyone else following us where we are?"
Jack frowned. She was fully dressed and had even pinned her hair up in some sort of order. She really was done with him. What the hell had he done wrong? One moment she'd been moaning and pressing against him. The next she was on her feet, pulling her shoes back on.
"Lord Blackthorne, I asked if you had any suggestions."
Jack raised his eyes to hers. They were clear blue, no trace of the haze of desire from a moment before. "I have a suggestion. Take that dress off and get back down here."
She shook her head. "Please be serious. In fact, be truthful. What did you do to the Duke of Bleven to anger him so?"
Reluctantly, Jack rose to his feet and began brushing off his trousers. The woman was obviously through with him. She'd dismissed him faster than a courtesan with money in her hand. "I didn't do anything to Bleven," he said. He'd left his boots on, in case they needed to run in the night, and now he leaned against the tree, pried one off and shook out the dust and pebbles.
"But if you didn't do anything to Bleven, then, why—" Her big blue eyes widened farther. "Lord Nicholas."
"Bang on the mark. My darling brother"—Jack slid his boot back on and stomped his foot back into it—"publicly insulted the duke. The duke was not pleased."
"But why would Lord Nicholas do that?" She was watching him struggle to pull off his second boot.
"He was protecting a woman's honor."
"I suppose it's justified, then."
"Nick insulted Bleven on my behalf as well. Called the duke a filthy whoreson scoundrel."
"Oh, Lord."
"It's a bit late to start praying."
She looked about, spotted the horses he'd tethered the night before and marched toward hers. "We have to go. Now. We have to find Ashley and Mr. Dover. I want no part of this feud with Bleven."
Jack shook his boot out and dropped it on the ground. "You should have thought of that last night. After that stunt you pulled, you're involved whether you want to be or not. Might I suggest, you and Dover retire to the Scottish countryside. Permanently."
"Don't be rid—" But she looked at his face and swallowed.
"I've heard the Americas are lovely this time of year."
She blew out a breath and closed her eyes. He heard her whispering something. It sounded like, "Everything will work out. Everything will work out."
Jack shook his head. Everything work out? That would be a first.
* * * * *
Maddie knelt beside Jack and tried to hold her breath. Jack's horse stank. She didn't know what the animal had gotten into the night before, but whatever the beast had eaten wreaked havoc with its digestion.
The two of them had made it to the nearby village, which happened to be Stevenage, and Jack and Maddie crouched behind the local pub and posting house. It was still early, and many of the villagers were not yet about, but the smells of baked bread and frying ham and sausage made her stomach rumble—despite the unappetizing aromas coming from the horse.
"Are you certain he knows to meet us here?" Maddie asked for what might have been the fifth time that morning.
"He knows," Jack growled. He didn't look at her.
Maddie didn't blame him for being mad. He must think her daft after what she'd done to him this morning. But, jiminy, she'd told the man to hurry. Besides, why should she feel sorry for him? She was the one who'd had to exert all the self-control and end their tryst. The sun had come up. She'd turned back into Lady Madeleine. Lady Madeleine did not allow men to reach up her skirts—no matter how enjoyable it might be.
And it was enjoyable. Oh, Lord, it was enjoyable. First Jack had shown her that kissing didn't have to be boring or sloppy, and then ...
Well, the man was obviously blessed with many talents.
But now she had to think of poor Mr. Dover and Gretna Green, and escaping her father and Lord Bleven. Jack swore up and down that he and his brother had arranged to meet here, but so far she saw no sign of Lord Nicholas.
She hoped he hadn't wandered by any of the shops and been accosted by a merchant's daughter. The man seemed to invite trouble.
Behind her, one of the horses nickered and stomped its foot, and Maddie turned just in time to see Ashley and Lord Nicholas leading their horses into the small courtyard behind the posting house.
Thank goodness, Ashley was fully clothed again, and Maddie jumped up, ran to her, and hugged her. "I was so worried about you!"
"At least someone was," Ashley said, with a glare at Lord Nicholas.
"Don't start," he retorted, moving forward to shake his brother's hand. "Little harpy. Next time she exposes herself to half a dozen drooling men, I'll let them have her."
Blackthorne pulled his brother aside and the two began to speak quietly. But before Maddie could ask Ashley what had happened to her the night before, she spotted Mr. Dover. He trudged behind Ashley and Lord Nicholas, horseless and bedraggled, but alive.
Maddie released Ashley. "Mr. Dover, you made it." She had intended to embrace him as warmly as she had her friend, but when she approached him, she couldn't seem to make herself do it. Instead, she held out her hand and allowed him to kiss her fingers.
The formality between them reminded her that her dress was wrinkled and dirty, that she wore no gloves, and that she hadn't bathed. Poor Mr.
Dover. He must rue the day he ever agreed to run off with her. Not only was their elopement a fiasco, she looked like a street urchin.
And, while he had undoubtedly spent the night shivering cold and alone, she had slept in another man's warm arms. And this morning ...
Maddie bit her lip. Best not to think of that.
Feeling incredibly guilty, she was compelled to apologize. "Mr. Dover, let me express to you how sorry I am that this elopement has gone so terribly wrong. I am certain our bad fortune now is no omen to what the future brings."
Ashley, who was standing beside them, not bothering to even pretend she wasn't listening, snorted.
Maddie glared at her, then looked back at Mr. Dover. "I assure you that once we are married—"
"Maddie," Ashley interrupted, drawing her away. "I was so worried about you. How did you get away?"
Maddie gave Mr. Dover an apologetic look, then prepared to lecture Ashley. "After all of Bleven's men went chasing after you, it wasn't difficult. How could you put yourself in so much danger? I was terrified you'd be caught and—" She swallowed.
"Actually, I think exposing myself was the best idea I've had in a long time."
"Oh, Lord."
"You'd be surprised how easy it is to blend in when you're naked."
"Oh, good Lord."
Ashley smiled. "Lord Nicholas and I dove under a pile of leaves and Bleven's men all rode right by us. By the time they realized their error, I had my dress back on and we were long gone."
"But Mr. Dover? How did you find him?"
Ashley scowled at poor Mr. Dover. Maddie thought he looked lost and forlorn this morning. "He stumbled upon us," Ashley said. "At quite an inopportune moment, too. Though I suppose it's for the best. Lord Nicholas is completely incorrigible."
Maddie narrowed her eyes. "Wait a moment. What kind of inopportune moment? Were you and Lord Nicholas—"
"All right, ladies!" Lord Nicholas interrupted. "We have a plan."
"Oh, no you don't," Ashley protested. "No more of your plans. In fact, no more of you." She turned to Maddie. "I propose only the four of us continue to Gretna Green. We can leave Lord Nicholas behind to create a diversion for anyone following us."
"Finally be rid of you? Capital idea," Lord Nicholas agreed. "Except, who's going to steal the carriage?"
"Pardon?" Maddie asked. "Steal what carriage?"
"The one that's going to take us to Gretna Green," Lord Nicholas answered. "The one I'm going to steal for us."
Maddie shook her head. Lord, this was her worst nightmare come true. After all the trouble he'd caused at the inn, she could not begin to imagine how much worse the turmoil over a carriage would be. Perhaps as much turmoil as publicly insulting a duke. "You cannot steal a carriage, Lord Nicholas."
He frowned. "Why not?"
Maddie tried to catch Jack's eye. Maybe she could force him to speak to his brother, or perhaps—if she looked the other way—to knock some sense into Lord Nicholas. But Jack merely blinked at her, scowled, and crossed his arms over his chest.
Maddie licked her lips. "Lord Nicholas, you cannot steal a carriage because theft is wrong. It's a sin."
"So is murder, but I didn't get the impression last night that Bleven's conscience was troubling him."
Maddie bit her lip. Bleven did have a reput
ation for heartless cruelty.
"And what about your own father?" the younger Martingale brother asked, crossing his arms. "If he finds us, do you think his actions will be tempered by thoughts about sin?"
Maddie glanced at Mr. Dover. It was true. Her father would likely shoot first and ask repentance later.
Maddie sighed. "Very well, but can we not buy a carriage? Regretfully, in the fray, I lost my reticule and all my money, but surely if the rest of you pool your resources—"
"We don't have the time to go carriage shopping," Blackthorne said, cutting her off. "We're in a hurry and we have at least two parties, and probably more, searching for us. To openly present ourselves in this town, or any other, is suicide."
Maddie bit her lip. He was right. They needed to be on their way quickly and anonymously. But, still, she couldn't believe larceny was the only way. "I understand completely, and yet I cannot condone theft. We must think of another way."
"It's no use," Ashley said finally. "You can't reason with her on something like this. She has her morals and her good deeds, and no one can disabuse her of their worth."
"Is that so?" Jack said, coming forward. "Are you telling me that Lady Madeleine never slips from what is good and proper? That her morality never falters?"
Maddie felt her mouth go dry. Oh, Lord. He was not going to tell everyone about what had happened this morning, was he? Because she had not been Lady Madeleine then—only, how did she explain that to all of them? How did she explain that to Mr. Dover? "Well, you see, sir, in the wee hours of the morning, I'm not Lady Madeleine. Well, I am Lady Madeleine, but ..."
It would never work.
Her gaze met Jack's, and he raised an eyebrow at her. His expression dared her to try and play Miss High and Mighty now. She knew there was a reason she didn't like midnight adventures. She got into far less trouble in the daylight.
"Fine!" she said, throwing her arms in the air. "Steal a carriage. I'll even help."
"Really?" Ashley said. "Perhaps we should be the ones to steal the carriage. Wouldn't that be fun!"
"Actually," Jack said, stepping forward. "That's not a bad idea."