by Shana Galen
And it was probably a boy.
Or a girl.
He didn't know if it could talk, but it looked like it could walk. It was dirty, its clothes tattered, and its face crusted with snot.
Jack pointed to the kid. "Where did that come from?"
"That?" Maddie followed his finger and frowned. "Timmy?"
Oh, devil take him. It had a name. "We're not keeping it. I've already agreed to keep the bear."
"Well, a bear is hardly the same as a child."
"We're not keeping it!" Jack bellowed, and Timmy started crying again.
Maddie ran a hand over the child's dirty curls and glared at Jack. "If you keep yelling like that, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I won't tolerate yelling in my carriage."
"Your carriage? This is my bloody carriage."
He'd almost yelled again, but managed to tamp his voice down at the last moment.
"Are you going to evict a defenseless woman and child? Is that the kind of man you are?"
"Oh, bloody hell." He wanted to hit his head on the carriage.
"Don't talk like that in front of Timmy."
Jack grasped the sides of the carriage, took one deep breath, then another. "Maddie, I'm asking you as calmly as possible. Where did this— Timmy— come from?"
"Is that all you wanted to know?"
He narrowed his eyes menacingly.
"I was going to tell you," she said. "If you hadn't started yelling."
"Maddie—"
"Very well. I was sitting here waiting for you to return with word of—oh, Jack, did you find out about Mr. Dover?"
Jack held up a finger. "Timmy first."
She frowned. "As I said, I was waiting for you to return when I happened to look out the back window. I wanted to see how the bear fared, and I suggested to the coachman that he might bring the poor creature some water. Did he? Blackjack looks thirsty."
"Blackjack?"
Maddie nodded. "The bear."
Dear God, she'd named it. They were never going to get rid of the beast now.
"You looked out the back window ..." Jack prompted.
"Right, and when I did, I saw Timmy standing all by himself, looking at Blackjack." She looked down at Timmy and smiled. The boy smiled back, and Jack saw that the child was missing his front teeth. "And I called Timmy over and—"
"Wait." Jack held up a hand. "You weren't supposed to call strangers over. You were supposed to wait in the carriage."
"I didn't leave the carriage, and you never said I couldn't speak to small children. Really, Jack."
"Go on," he said through clenched teeth.
"Timmy told me he was lost. He doesn't remember where he lives, and I was just asking where he last saw his mama when you returned and began yelling."
"We're not keeping him," Jack said, pointing at the boy.
Maddie rolled her eyes. "He has a mother, Jack. We just need to find her."
"And I suppose that's my job."
Maddie shrugged. "I'll be happy to do it. Just move out of my way—"
Jack held his arms out. "Do not leave the carriage. I'll be right back."
He closed the carriage door on his wife and little Timmy, and turned to see the coachman looking at him with raised brows. "Ready, my lord?"
Jack blew out a breath. "Not yet."
"Yes, my lord. But we're losing daylight, and you said—"
Jack walked away. More and more, he was hoping Bleven would find them. A quick bullet to the brain and Maddie, Timmy, and Blackjack—why the hell had she named the beast Blackjack?— would no longer be his problem.
And he'd thought Nicholas was trouble.
An hour later Timmy and his mother enjoyed a lengthy reunion. There were tears and embraces and profuse expressions of gratitude.
Jack sat in the carriage and scowled while Maddie hugged Timmy and his mother at least a dozen times. He'd tried to urge her to hurry the reunion along, but she ignored him. Finally, he pulled her into his lap, waved good-bye, and closed the carriage door.
"Jack!" Maddie said, the worry line he'd like to banish appearing between her brows. "That was rude."
"You think it would have been better if I'd done this in front of little Timmy?" And he bent and took her mouth with his. When he pulled back, she was breathless. "More? Or are you still worried about Timmy?"
She pulled his head down. "I'm sure Timmy's fine. Kiss me again."
He did, then traced his lips along her jawline to the soft spot on her neck, just below her ear.
"You drive me mad," she whispered.
He knew the feeling. She was driving him mad, and not just with her wriggling body. He'd known she was a do-gooder, but he hadn't anticipated it would go this far. Bears, lost children, he was afraid to ask what was next.
Suddenly, she jumped back. "Jack, I forgot about Dover. You found out about him?"
He nodded and opened his mouth to tell her, but she was shaking her head.
"I cannot believe I forgot about him. I'm a horrible person."
"He's not dead, Maddie."
"He's lucky not to have married me, God rest his soul. He's— Wait, he's not dead?"
Jack shook his head and tried not to smile. He'd never met anyone who cared so much about everything and everyone. One minute a bear. The next a lost boy. "Dover is fine. Several people told me that your father only grazed the professor's shoulder. He was up and walking around before we'd even left Carlisle."
"But where is he now?" Maddie asked. "Is he still in Carlisle? Should we offer to take him back to Town?"
Jack didn't know where the hell Dover was, and he didn't really want to find out. He certainly wasn't having Maddie's former fiance sharing his carriage—not when he wanted Maddie all to himself.
"Maddie," Jack said, drawing her back to him and kissing her again. "Dover is fine. He can take care of himself."
"But, Jack—"
"Forget him." He nuzzled her neck and pushed her gown off her shoulders. He kissed the soft skin there.
"I can't," she whispered.
Jack slipped his hand in her gown and kneaded her breast, taking the hard nipple between thumb and forefinger. She arched against him, and Jack murmured, "Forget him."
Pressing her body closer, she moaned. "Maybe just for a little while."
Chapter Sixteen
It turned out to be quite a long while, as Maddie didn't think about Dover again for several hours. Making love in a coach had been fun, exhilarating, and, she was certain, most improper— even for a married woman. But Jack had ignored her admittedly weak protests. And, as usual, she had to acknowledge that when Jack wanted something, he usually got it.
That worried her somewhat. Her husband was even bossier now than he'd been before. She decided it was probably because they were newly married and that it was understandable that a new husband would feel protective of his new bride.
They stopped for the night in a small town with a pretty name that immediately flew out of Maddie's head. She was so hungry and so tired and so ready for a bath that nothing else mattered.
Well, except for Blackjack. She waited to be certain that the bear was settled comfortably and had been given food and water. One of the outriders was engaged to keep watch over the bear all night, and only after Maddie had spoken to the youth herself did she feel confident enough to go up to her room.
And Jack.
Earlier, he'd followed her so closely that he'd all but stepped on her toes, until she'd finally convinced him to go upstairs and take a bath. He had, but he'd engaged the other outrider to shadow her. Now, Maddie waved the boy away and paused outside her bedroom. Hearing the unmistakable sound of water sloshing against -a tub, she took a deep breath.
She hadn't forgotten how wonderful Jack looked that first morning of their marriage. Even now, just thinking about all that bronze skin and those hard muscles made her stomach tighten and the spot between her legs feel damp.
Her hand trembled as she opened the door and stepped into th
e room. It was dim, lit only by a pair of candles, but she saw Jack immediately. To her disappointment, he was not naked. His hair was wet and his back bare, but he'd pulled on his trousers and was standing at the open window, looking out.
"I'm almost afraid to turn around," he said when she closed the door behind her. "First it was a bear, then a child. Don't tell me you've found a lion this time."
"That's not funny, Jack." But she couldn't stop a small smile. When people met her, they were always surprised at how those in need seemed to gravitate toward her. It was as though she was a beacon for the sick and injured, the poor and helpless.
He turned then and took her in. "You're tired," he said. "And it's my fault you haven't had much rest."
She blushed. "I didn't mind."
He crossed to her, took her hand and drew her to him. "But I do." He put his hand on her cheek. "Another day and these circles will be as dark as your beautiful sapphire eyes."
Maddie felt her heart seize. He knew the color of her eyes. It was too dark in the room for him to see them clearly, which meant he knew without even looking. She felt the sting of tears and swallowed hard to keep them from falling.
Jack led her toward the empty tub on the floor near the crackling fire in the hearth. "I had them take away the used water and bring fresh." He lifted one of several buckets on the floor and poured the steaming water into the tub.
"Jack, you don't have to do that."
"Oh, it's not for your benefit." He emptied another bucket into the tub and winked at her. "Whatever it takes to get you naked faster. Start undressing."
A rush of heat coursed through her, and Maddie felt suddenly self-conscious. She knew she was his wife, and Jack had seen her without clothing before. He'd seen her quite intimately and in full daylight, but somehow the two of them alone in this room with its flickering candles, warm fire, and waiting bed made her new position all the more obvious.
She was his wife. She was Lady Blackthorne, who made love in ponds and carriages and took delight in the sight of her husband's unclothed body. She belonged to Jack, and he to her. Her emotions surged when she thought about the momentous thing they had done in marrying each other. And yet, she shied away from giving her emotions free rein. She knew she could so easily fall in love with Jack. He was everything she desired in a man. And everything she wanted to avoid.
She had the sinking feeling that outside of the bedroom, little about their marriage would be blissful.
"I'm waiting," he said, pouring the last of the warm water into the hip tub. "Or maybe you'd like my assistance."
Maddie quivered with pleasure at the thought of his hands on her body.
"I'll take that as a yes."
And before she could say anything—think of a way to express all the emotions she was experiencing at that moment—Jack was beside her, his large warm hands flicking the buttons on the back of her gown open. His breath was on her bare neck, his fingers inching her gown over her shoulders, and Maddie couldn't stop herself from leaning back against him.
His bare chest felt delicious against her exposed skin. He smelled like soap and faintly of mint.
Then Jack bent on one knee and turned Maddie to face him. He took her slipper in one hand, and she held onto his shoulder while he removed it and then its partner. Throughout the task, he never stopped touching her. A finger here, his arms there, his mouth ...
And then his hands were on her legs, inching her shift upward, revealing more and more of her body to him as he undressed her. She closed her eyes as the shift cleared her head, and didn't open them again until she felt his arms come around her.
"So beautiful," he whispered, his hands tracing the line of her spine and then branching out to caress her hips. He guided her to the tub and held her hand as she stepped in. When she sank into the warm water, she let out a slow sigh of contentment.
"Feel good?" Jack asked from behind her. His hands came around her neck, and he began to knead away at her sore and tired muscles.
Maddie could only moan an incoherent response as his magic hands slid over her wet skin, teasing away the aches and pains and slipping her closer and closer to sleepy contentment.
But Jack wasn't about to allow her to sleep. Not yet. His hands dipped in the water, and when she leaned forward, his fingers, slippery from the soap, glossed over her.
Now she knew why he smelled of mint. The soap's fragrance refreshed her—or perhaps it was the feel of his slick hands sliding around to cup her breasts.
"Oh, Jack," she murmured as his hands dove down to her belly and lower still.
"You want me to touch you?" he whispered in her ear.
"Please."
The lower his hands strayed, the more she ached for him. He rose, moved to the front of the tub, and she saw the evidence of his need for her. He was full and hard, his trousers straining from the force of his desire.
Wantonly, she opened her legs for him when he knelt before her, but Jack shook his head. "Not yet."
He took her foot, lifted it out of the small tub and rubbed it clean. Then his hands slid up her leg, moving in slow, deliberate strokes, closer to where she ached for him. But just as she began to shake with anticipation, his hands slid back down again and he repeated the torture with her other leg.
This time, she knew, he would touch her, and she shook with need as his hands skated over her flesh, coming nearer and nearer to her core. She closed her eyes tightly, feeling as though she might explode with even the merest touch, but just when she rose to meet him, his hands skipped away again.
She opened her eyes and glared at him.
"Something wrong?" he asked, mischief in his twinkling eyes.
She bit her lip. "No."
"I want to wash your hair," he said, coming around behind her again. Maddie noticed that he'd left one pail of water beside the hearth, and she was glad for his clear thinking. She was so distracted tonight. She would have poured all the water in and left nothing with which to rinse off.
Jack began to pull the pins from her hair, and Maddie reached back to stop him. "You don't need to do that. I can wash it."
"Oh, but I want to," he growled in her ear. "I love your hair."
"You do?" No one had ever told her that before. No one had ever made her feel as beautiful and desirable as Jack did.
A moment later her hair was heavy with suds, and the smell of mint surrounded her. Jack's fingers were indeed enchanted as he massaged her scalp, coaxing away the last of her tension and worry.
She was half asleep when his hands finally ceased their ministrations, and she didn't even feel embarrassed at her nudity when he pulled her to her feet in the tub. She was the shameless Lady Blackthorne after all.
"Ready?"
She nodded, not certain what he had in mind, but knowing whatever it was, she wanted it. Warm water trickled over her head and slid down her body. She leaned her head back so the suds from her hair wouldn't fall in her eyes, and she heard Jack's quick intake of breath.
She smiled. Good. At least she wasn't the only one affected.
The water cascaded over her, soft as her lover's touch, and when the soap had been washed away, Jack wrapped her in warm linen and led her close to the fire.
She wrapped her arms around him, reaching on tiptoes to kiss him. "That was wonderful."
"Oh, wonderful hasn't even begun." He reached between them, stripping her of the linen and feasting on the sight of her. Maddie opened her arms to him, and he came to her, kissing her until she could no longer think of anything but him.
His hands roved over her, and she was equally liberal in her caresses of him. She ran her fingers over his chest, memorizing its angles and planes, loving the way he tensed at some of her touches and how his skin seemed to heat when she touched him in other ways.
She couldn't get enough of him, and now that his bruises were fading, she felt free to explore him. He allowed it, and when her hands dipped to the waistband of his trousers, his dark gaze met hers.
She unfastened his trousers, pushed them over his hips, and when he stepped put of them, she took his hard manhood in her hand. It pulsed in her grip, its velvety smoothness such a contrast to its unforgiving hardness.
She caressed the length of it lightly, trying to gauge by Jack's reaction how much she pleased him. "You're driving me mad," he said when she squeezed him gently at the base of the shaft. "I need to be inside you."
His hands slipped between her legs, and though she was slick with need for him, she couldn't stop a small cry of pain at his touch.
"Damn it." He pulled back and took her by the shoulders.
"I'm sorry," Maddie began. "I didn't mean—"
"Shh. It's my fault. Of course you're sore. I should have realized. We'll stop."
"But, Jack, I don't want to stop."
One brow rose in a cocky gesture she was beginning to know well.
"What do you have in mind, sweetheart?"
Maddie shook her head. "I don't know. I—I just want you."
He walked to a chair in the corner, grasped it and pulled it toward her. She watched his lithe body move in the firelight and wanted him even more.
"Sit here," Jack told her. Maddie frowned. What new game was this? But she'd learned that in matters of the flesh, he knew her better than she knew herself. She did as he said.
"Open your legs," Jack told her.
Maddie stared at him and didn't move. But he took her hand, kissed it, and pressed it to her womanhood. "If I can't touch you, you'll have to do it."
Oh, but this was too wanton. She couldn't touch herself. Not in front of him. "Jack—"
"Open your legs, Maddie. Or should I call you Lady Blackthorne?" The way he was looking at her fired her blood again and hot desire rushed through her. All his touches, all his kisses—she wanted him, wanted pleasure.
And though she still felt shy, she also knew that there was no one besides her husband that she would rather share this intimate moment with. Only Jack. Now and always Jack.
Her hand moved lightly against her flesh, and Jack nodded, his dark eyes even darker than usual. "Do what feels good to you."
Maddie nodded, wanting to do what would please him, what would keep the desire hot and dark in his eyes. Lady Blackthorne was a seductress. She lifted her hands and cupped her breasts, feeling their weight, watching the nipples grow stiff and hard as her pleasure rose. She pinched one nipple, and Jack's breath grew heavy. His manhood was rigid and ready as she slid her hands down her abdomen.