Captain Jack’s Woman / A Gentleman's Honor

by Stephanie Laurens

  His voice had risen. His final threat struck Kit while she was still engrossed with his first revelation. He loved her. He’d said so, in words, out loud. In silence, she stared at him, her gaze softening, caressing the angry lines of his cheek and jaw. Her mind belatedly scrambled to catch up. Did worry over her truly affect him so? Is this what love did to him?

  With a frustrated groan, Jack turned and strode from the room, slamming the door behind him. He swung up the short stairway and headed for the foredeck, his only aim to cool his heated brain before he returned to his cabin and made passionate love to his wife. He was so wracked with violent emotions he didn’t trust himself to lay hands on her delicate limbs. She bruised easily enough as it was.

  Kit stared at the cabin door. Her face drained of emotion, then she stiffened. Her eyes flared, purple flames erupting from the violet depths.

  How dare he? One moment, vowing love and demanding obedience, the next, walking out on her, as if he’d said the final word.

  “Hah!’ Kit drew a deep breath and drew herself up, her hands on her hips. Her eyes narrowed. If he thought he was going to so easily escape the rest of their discussion, the clear statement of what she wanted henceforth from him, he was wrong! She’d wanted his attention-she’d got it. But he hadn’t left it with her long enough!

  With a determined stride, Kit made for the door.

  His arms on the foredeck railing, Jack watched the waves slide under the bow. They’d slipped their moorings and were heading for the mouth of the harbor. Soon, the heavy swell of the ocean would tilt the decks. He drew a deep breath and felt sanity return.

  Looking back, he couldn’t recall a single instance throughout their association when Kit had allowed his plans to proceed without remodeling. He’d had their recent discussion carefully organized. He’d intended explaining to her what he felt when she went into danger, that she’d have to learn to cope with the ramifications of his love. He’d managed that but her patent surprise that he should feel so strongly for her had slipped under his guard and distracted him. His statements of intent had been far more aggressive than he’d planned.

  He grimaced. That wasn’t the worst of it. He’d forgotten the rest of his orchestrated performance, arguably the most important part. He’d omitted to tell her that he understood her need to know what he was about and that, henceforth, he was prepared to share even that aspect of his life with her.

  Jack was drawing a last deep breath of calming sea air when he sensed a disruption behind him. He swung about to see Kit making for the foredeck, oblivious of the sailors she swept from her path. One glance at the set of her chin told him she was about to upset the plans he’d just made.

  For one instant, Jack paused to admire the magnificent figure she cut, her lithe body outlined by her elegant carriage dress, her halo of curls gleaming in the sunshine. But he couldn’t afford more time to stand transfixed by admiration. His Kit was no angel. In another minute, when she reached the foredeck, she was going to irretrievably damage his reputation-if not worse.

  Kit had to concentrate to manage the ladder to the foredeck with her skirts held before her. She’d seen Jack’s tall figure at the rail and made straight for him. The foredeck looked a perfectly wonderful spot to tell him what she thought of his henceforths, limited, as they were, to her.

  Gaining the foredeck, she dropped her skirts and smoothed them down, then glanced up to find her husband. To her surprise, he was directly in front of her.

  Angry violet eyes locked with laughing grey ones.

  Laughing? Kit opened her mouth to wither him.

  She’d forgotten how fast he could move. Before the first syllable of her tirade tripped from her tongue, his lips had closed over hers, stifling her angry words. Kit struggled and felt his arms lock about her, a tender trap. Her heart was already accelerating, leaping with anticipation. It was too late to close her mouth. He’d taken immediate advantage of her parted lips to lay claim to the softness within.

  Damn him! She wanted to talk! This was precisely why she’d left Castle Hendon in the first place.

  Disgruntled, Kit tried to hold firm against the tide of need rising within her. It was impossible. Little flames of desire greedily flickered and grew, swelling into the familiar warmth in her belly. With a stifled groan, Kit rearranged her plans and surrendered to the urge to press herself against the hard body that surrounded her, savoring the pressure that would bring her relief.

  When Kit melted into his embrace, Jack knew he’d won the round. Despite the catcalls and whistles that rose about them, he kept kissing her, too hungry after the starvation of a week to call an early end to their exhibition. The need to repair to a place of greater privacy to embark on the next stage of their discussion finally brought his head up. He stared down into her wide eyes, already purpling with passion.

  Jack smiled, his slow, wicked smile. Kit’s heart lurched crazily.

  “I’m going to carry you down to our cabin. Don’t, for the love of God, say a word.”

  One arrogant brow rose, but Kit could only stare. Talk? That required being able to think. She was witless-how could she say anything?

  Then, as Jack stooped and tossed her over his shoulder, reality returned to her with a thump. Heavens-everyone on the ship was staring at them! Kit felt her cheeks burn crimson as Jack went down the ladder. She could just imagine the grin on his face.

  Her fears were confirmed when he shrugged her from his shoulder into his arms. He strode the length of the deck smiling down into her anguished eyes. Cradled in his strong arms, Kit knew it was useless to struggle but she’d have given a great deal, at that moment, to wipe the triumph from his lips. Still, it was only a battle-she had set her sights on winning the war. He juggled her back to his shoulder to manage the narrow companionway and corridor, then strode through the door to their stateroom and kicked it shut on the world.

  Her hands on his shoulders, Kit waited to be put down. Now was the time to make her stand, before he kissed her again. But Jack didn’t stop in the stateroom. Kit blinked as she was carried into the bedroom beyond, ducking her head at his command to avoid the lintel.

  She looked around wildly. Her stomach contracted as her gaze fell on the bed. Jack stopped at its foot, his intent clear. Any doubts she might have had on the point were banished as he let her slide down until her toes brushed the carpeted floor. Clasped against him, Kit could feel the evidence of his need pressed hard against her soft belly. Her eyes met his; her breath suspended as she saw desire etched in silver flame against the smoky grey.

  With an effort, Kit pulled her mind free. She drew a deep breath. “Jack?”

  “Mmm?”

  He wasn’t interested in talking. His large hands spread across her waist, moving down to mold her hips against his. One hand remained at the top of her thighs, trapping her in that intimate embrace, gently fondling her bottom. The other hand went to the laces of her gown. His lips grazed her ear, then lazily drifted to where the pulse beat strongly at the base of her throat.

  Kit clenched her fingers on his shoulders, trying to hold on to her mind, but the heat trapped between their hips rose and cindered her resolution. She felt Jack tug at her neckline and the material ripped. As his lips moved down to taste the fruit revealed, Kit decided against protest.

  He had stated that he loved her. Now he would show her, his loving a vibrant reiteration of what he’d found so hard to say. She’d be a fool indeed to interrupt him. Instead, she would enjoy him, enjoy his love and claim it as hers-then return to her point later, once their love had tamed him.

  With a satisfied murmur, she dropped her arms to free them of her sleeves, then whimpered as Jack’s tongue teased her sensitive nipples, aroused and covered only by the thin film of her chemise. She heard his knowing chuckle, then he moved closer to the bed, letting her down so she stood on unsteady feet, trapped between him and the end of the bed.

  Her petticoats drifted to the carpet, freed by expert fingers. Gentle hands divested her
of her stockings and shoes. Clad only in her fine silk chemise, she stood before her husband, half-expecting him to rip the garment from her. His eyes burned brighter than she’d ever seen them.

  Jack feasted his eyes on her bounty, the ripe globes of her breasts tipped by ruched pink, duskier now that he’d claimed her. Below the swell of her hips, her sleek flanks beckoned, the heat between pulsing with her heartbeat. Every sweet inch of her was his-his to adore, his to devour.

  Kit’s heart was pounding, a slow steady beat, a march to take her to paradise. Her breathing was shallow. It dissolved into short little gasps as Jack’s hands closed about her breasts. Long fingers slid beneath the lace edge of her chemise to draw her fruit to his lips. He suckled hard. Kit dropped her head back, her eyes closing, her senses burdened with sensation too exquisite to bear. Her fingers tangled in Jack’s hair, frantically pulling the long locks from the riband that confined them. One strong arm slipped about her waist to support her as she arched her body, exposing her breasts fully to his mouth and tongue.

  She was on fire. Kit drew a ragged breath as she felt one large hand drop to her silk-clad thigh.

  “Oh, yes,” she whispered, as she felt Jack shift her in his arms, so that her hips were now angled against his. Slowly, his fingers drifted beneath the silk chemise, tracing a long curve all the way up to her hip. She felt him tuck the end of her shift, which had risen with his hand, into the fingers at her back. The edge of the garment was now draped from hip to knee across her body, revealing the satin expanse of one thigh to her husband’s ardent gaze, but hiding the red-gold curls of her mound from his view. Kit lifted her heavy lids. The silver eyes were indeed examining what they could see. Then she felt his fingers drift down and closed her eyes the better to savor the pleasure to come.

  As his fingers reached her knee, Jack’s head dipped to take one rosy nipple into his mouth, torturing it with his tongue. The effort to breathe became that much harder as he reversed the direction of his caress, languidly trailing his fingers up the back of her thigh. Delicate caresses, tantalizingly explicit, trailed fire over the fevered skin of her bottom. Kit moaned, delighted he’d chosen the long way to paradise.

  Slowly, the tracery of flame laid down by his fingertips moved over the curve of her hip to encroach on the silken skin of her stomach. His mouth on her breasts played havoc with her senses. When he finally raised his head, his fingers hovered just above her curls, already damp from the fever surging through her. Kit kept her eyes shut, knowing he was watching her, watching the way her senses flickered in heated anticipation of his next move.

  “Open your eyes, Kitten.” The growled command was one she wished she could disobey. Her lids fluttered and she opened her eyes just enough to see the devilish smile that twisted her husband’s lips.

  “Wide.”

  Kit glared weakly, but obeyed, her breathing tortured and waiting.

  His smile grew.

  One long finger slid into her.

  Her body arched slightly, invitingly, her thighs parting to give him greater access. He reached deep. Kit shuddered and closed her eyes.

  His lips found hers in a long slow kiss as his fingers found her heat, stroking and teasing until she clung to him, fever raging in her veins, her body straining for release.

  Then he laid her on the bed. He shed his clothes and joined her, his hands, his mouth, quickly, expertly, restoking the flames before, in a fire of need, he possessed her, riding her hard, her urgency driving him on. Kit raised her legs and wrapped them about his waist, tilting her hips to take all of him, drawing him in, reveling in the slickness that allowed him to drive so deeply into her.

  The end was shattering, leaving them both gasping. As the fires about them died, they slipped into sleep, limbs entangled, sated and content.

  Kit woke to the sensation of Jack kissing her, soft, nibbling kisses that stirred her body to life. Before she was fully awake, he possessed her, quickly, expertly, taking the edge from her need before she even realized it was there.

  Lying wrapped in his arms in the warm afterglow, Kit smugly considered the benefits accrued through having a rake for a husband. Then she remembered their discussion, and the fact that she’d yet to have her say. She tried to sit up, but Jack’s arms held her firmly.

  “Jack!”

  At her protest, he shifted onto his elbow and kissed the frown from her brow. “I know, I know. Just keep quiet for a moment, you redheaded houri, and let me explain.”

  Redheaded houri? Explain? Kit dutifully stayed silent.

  “I apologize, all right?” He nuzzled one ear, then placed a trail of kisses along her jaw to the other ear.

  Kit frowned. “Exactly what are you apologizing for?” Now she’d finally got him to the point, she wanted to be sure she got her due.

  Jack drew back and considered her through narrowed silver eyes. “For not telling you about the damned spies.”

  Kit smiled beatifically.

  Jack humphed and kissed her long and hard. “Further-more,” he said, when he was finished, “I promise on my honor as a Hendon to try to remember to tell you the details of any of my endeavors which might conceivably cause you concern.”

  Kit narrowed her eyes as she considered his wording.

  Jack raised his brows, at first arrogantly, awaiting her acceptance, then more thoughtfully. “In fact,” he mused, considering the delightful picture she made, lying naked in his arms, her skin aglow in the aftermath of their loving, “I’ll make a bargain with you.”

  “A bargain?” Kit wondered at the wisdom of making a deal with such a reprobate.

  Jack nodded, inspecting her nipples, shifting over her so he could weigh her breasts in his hands. Then he raised his head and smiled, directly into her large purple-shaded eyes. “We share-I’ll tell you what I’m doing before you have to ask, and you’ll tell me what you’re doing before you do it.”

  Kit bit her lip on her acceptance. “That’s not quite fair,” she said, weighing his words every bit as carefully as he was weighing her breasts.

  “It’s the best you’ll do, so I’d advise you to accept.” The raspy reply jerked Kit’s mind to attention. Too late. He was already lying between her thighs, her long limbs wide-spread. Even as her mind dealt with that discovery, he lifted her hips. The sensation of warm steel pressing into her overrode all other interests.

  Kit arched her back, pressing her head deep into the pillows behind her, her lids drooping over her darkened eyes.

  “Oh, yes!” she breathed.

  Above her, Jack smiled and wondered just what she was agreeing to. As he flexed his hips and thrust deep into her welcoming heat, he decided he’d assume she wanted to share her life in the same abandoned way she shared her body. Then he stopped thinking.

  “Lisbon?” Kit turned to look at Jack in surprise. “Why Lisbon?”

  Jack chuckled and turned on his side to look at her. The ocean swell had finally registered and she’d got up, draping the counterpane over her nakedness, and gone to the window. “Because it’s where the cargo is bound. This isn’t a pleasure craft.”

  Kit’s frown took in the sumptuous cabin. “I did think it was a bit big for a yacht.” At Jack’s laugh, she climbed back on the bed. “So where do we go after that?”

  Tucking her curled warmth into one arm, Jack told her of their projected trip, six days in Lisbon followed by the long haul to Bruges, keeping well away from the French coast. After four days in Bruges, they’d head home to Norfolk.

  She lay quiet in his arms, and Jack marveled at the peace that held them. They were both wide-awake, but content in their closeness.

  Gradually, the perfume of her warm body reached out to flick his senses. He felt his body react and smiled at the ceiling. She’d been well loved, and it was a long way to Lisbon. He closed his eyes. He’d give her another hour or two.

  He was woken by Kit scrambling over the bed. “My dress,” she said, catching hold of the garment and kneeling on the bed to inspect it. “You’v
e ripped it.” She turned to throw an accusing stare his way. Then she glanced at the large armoire against one wall. “I don’t suppose that contains any dresses?”

  Jack grinned and shook his head. Then he frowned. “Haven’t you got another in that bag of yours?” Her black bag had been left near the door.

  Kit shook her head. “I didn’t expect to be away from home for long, remember?”

  “What’s in there?”

  Warily, Kit eyed the long muscled length stretched, relaxed, on the bed. “My breeches. Both pairs.”

  Jack’s head came up; his eyes found hers. Then, to her relief, he chuckled and dropped his head back on the pillow. “Actually, I’d hoped you’d be reduced to wearing them when I found you at Jenny’s. I spent the entire trip down from London fantasizing about your punishment.”

  Kit stared at him. Fantasizing? She licked her lips. “You never did say what my punishment would be.”

  “Didn’t I?” Jack raised his head. One brow rose; his eyes glinted wickedly. “But that’s half the delight. Your imagination running riot in anticipation.”

  “Jack!” Kit frowned and shifted on the bed, drawing the counterpane about her. Her imagination was stimulated enough already.

  He dropped his head back again, then she felt the bed rock with his deep laughter. “I just had a thought.”

  She could see the smile on his face. It grew. He came up on one elbow, the look on his face growing more wicked with every passing second.

  “If your breeches are all you’ve got to wear, then perhaps you’d better put them on now. Then we can get your punishment over and done with and you can wear them in Lisbon, until we can buy you some new clothes.”

  Kit stared as one arrogant brow rose, sending delicious shivers skittering through her. His gaze held Hers steadily, as if what he was suggesting was the most straightforward proposition in the world. Dazed, Kit reflected that if she had a single proper bone in her body, she would tell him that married women did not indulge in realizing fantasies. Particularly not his fantasies. She concluded she didn’t have a proper bone to her name.