A Jewel In Time; A Sultry Sisters Anthology

by Barbara Devlin

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Do you feel better, fair Helen?” Mark caught the eccentric spinster, as she teetered. “Perhaps we should return to the ballroom, where you might take your ease.”

  And he needed to find his Amanda, after his ill timed, hastily composed oratory in the Chatham’s dining room. Given the sheer force of his emotion-driven declaration, and her youth and inexperience, it would not surprise him to discover he had frightened her, and he had to explain his motives. Yet her inner torment had leveled his defenses, and he could not, in good conscience, allow her to labor under mistaken assumptions, when reality presented circumstances to the contrary.

  “Will you keep your blasted voice down?” She steered him to the right, along a narrow path. When they encountered an illicit rendezvous, she choked with exaggerated volume. “Oh, my big toe, how it pains me.”

  “And do you know where Amanda has disappeared, as I must speak with her?” He ducked to avoid a decumbent branch, and then he scanned the immediate vicinity. His lady had said nothing after his fervent pledge, had only excused herself after dinner, and he languished in a white-capped ocean of indecision. “We stroll farther from the main house with each successive step. I may have to carry you back, if we do not retract our course.”

  The expansive gardens manifested myriad dark spaces for conducting naughty deeds, so it was a bit of good fortune that he had opted to forgo his appointment with Amanda, as he yearned to commit all manner of naughty deeds with her. The center yard boasted an eclectic mix of rose bushes, topiaries, vine-covered pergolas, and, in the distance, off to the side, a diminutive gazebo, which had been situated beneath the immense canopy of a massive oak. Filtered by the foliage, moonlight cast a silvery mosaic on the grounds. As they neared the petite structure, he narrowed his stare and focused on a figure looming in the shadows. Based on the height and proportions, of which he dreamed every night, he solved the mystery of his missing lady.

  “Remind Amanda to re-enter the Chatham’s via the side doors, where I shall await you in the library,” Helen whispered. “And if you make her cry again, young Douglas, you will answer to me, and it will not be pleasant. Now, do not tarry, as we must return to the ballroom, together, before anyone discerns our game. So make haste.”

  As Helen scurried back toward the grand residence, Mark bent to avoid another low-lying bough. Shrouded in darkness, he stubbed the tip of his boot on an exposed root and tripped. A soft, feminine giggle confirmed his suspicions. Perched on the second step, which brought her within striking distance, given the disparity in their stature, his lady welcomed him with outstretched arms. With one last check of the surroundings, he peered over his shoulder, and then he turned--right into Amanda’s kiss.

  How many nights had he dreamed of that moment, of the singular fragment in time when benevolent fate smiled upon him, and he claimed the first taste of his Amanda’s sumptuous lips, lush and ripe as a pomegranate? Too many to count. But even in his wildest imaginings, he had not conjured anything as decadent as the genuine article. And he wanted more.

  With infinite care, he sampled the sensuous indulgence she rendered with unshakeable persistence. When he attempted to retreat, she framed his face with her delicate hands, all but refusing to relinquish the ground she had captured, and how she had captured him. So with nary a thought for propriety or prudence, he prodded her with his tongue and could have cried when she opened to him.

  For several heated, desperate, achingly sweet minutes, he licked and suckled in a frisky contest, and his Amada proved a fast learner, meeting his voluptuous tack with a luscious counterassault of her own. To his abiding delight and imponderable frustration, her characteristic derring-do infused every titillating, if unschooled, caress. And yet, despite her inexperience, she seduced him.

  Pulse points blazed to life, muscles tensed, and every nerve charged. And to his utter mortification, his Jolly Roger seemed to possess an unusually exuberant mind, as it was overly jolly and only too ready to plow her uncharted harbor. But his Amanda was no dockside doxy, so he resolved to preserve her virtue, even if it killed him--and it might.

  At last, he broke their kiss. Resting forehead to forehead, Mark marshaled his wits, even as Amanda shivered in his embrace and pressed her tantalizing curves to his stalwart frame. Before he toppled her to the floor of the garden structure, and seized her virginity then and there, he sought to distance himself from her siren song, but she held fast, clinging as a luxurious blanket.

  “How dare you suggest I know not your torment, when I suffer every minute we are apart?” She nipped his chin. “At night, I dream of you, too. Often I wake in the early hours, to discover what I had thought real was nothing more than an illusion, and the subsequent emptiness and disappointment is almost more than I can bear.”

  “Darling Amanda.” Despite a silent rebuke, he settled his palms to the twin swells of her bottom, anchored her, and pressed what had to be the most stubborn erection known to humanity to her belly. “You know not the danger you court.”

  “Yes, I do. And I am yours for the taking.” She scored her fingernails to the nape of his neck. “Like you, I plan for our future, and I long to have your child. As you serve His Majesty, I would serve you. As you safeguard our shores, I would safeguard our home. With you at my side, whether in person or in spirit, I shall know no fear or pain. And while sadness and happiness are part of life, and I expect we shall know both, the former shall hold no sway, as the latter will persist if only I am your lady.”

  “You are my Amanda--never doubt that.” He rubbed his nose to hers. “Even though I do not deserve you.”

  “Oh, yes, you do, my dashing Lieutenant.” She trailed feathery kisses along his jawline, and he shuddered. “And I understand you would kill a thousand men for me, although I would never ask it of you, yet you need not resort to such drastic measures, as you are already my champion for having restored my honor without bloodshed.”

  “Well said, sweetheart.” Her declaration worked on him in ways he could not have foreseen, and Mark concentrated on the simple repetitive act of inhaling and exhaling, to distract him from the overwhelming urge to claim her in the most elemental fashion. “And now that I have collected my boon, we should return to the ball and--”

  “No, as I am not finished with you, sir.” With an iron grip on the lapels of his coat, she yanked hard, gaining the full attention of every inch of him, and a few dangerous ones in particular. “And never think that I need you not, as you are as vital to me as the air I breathe.”

  And with that, she emitted a half-strangled cry and came at him with force sufficient to knock him on his arse, had he locked knees, and he stumbled to keep them upright. Twining her fingers in his hair, his wanton society miss bit his lower lip and then besieged his mouth. In mere seconds, they erupted.

  In an instant, an awkward test of will commenced, as his Amanda advanced with an intoxicating passion impossible to deny, and he retrenched in a last-ditch effort to maintain his sanity and her maidenhead. But, God, she was delicious.

  Rational thought abandoned him, as he sailed on an alluring tide. Drawing on years of well-honed finesse in the sensual arts, he stroked and fondled her peaks and valleys, stoking the flames of desire, offering her no quarter. Operating on instinct, he nurtured and then fed an all too familiar hunger. And his lady made a valiant attempt to keep stride, with wild and hedonistic moves he found inexpressibly beguiling.

  “Oh, Mark.” Panting, she collapsed against him. “Is there not something we can do, as I burn for you?”

  “Amanda, we cannot risk discovery.” How captivating she was when heated with lust, and his heretofore-vaunted self-control fractured. “Even now--”

  “Please?” She caught his earlobe between her teeth and hissed. “I beg you, do not leave me in this state, as I shall go mad for wanting you.”

  “Bloody hell.” Never had he conceived that she might pine for him as he pined for her, with equal fervor. Before he could compose a protest, wh
ich might stay his curious debutante and the beast raging below his belly button, she thrust her hips, and he groaned. And First Lieutenant Mark Andrew Douglas, the notoriously disciplined second in command to Captain Nelson, was undone. “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes,” quick as a wink Amanda replied.

  In a flash, he bent, swept her into his arms, and ascended the remaining stairs. The cozy, pentagon-shaped gazebo sheltered in the shadow of the oak’s thick trunk and afforded the perfect hideaway for a clandestine tryst. With privacy chief among his concerns, he opted for the bench that faced the path, as he could spy any unfortunate interloper prior to discovery and conceal his future wife from prying eyes.

  When the velvet-encased temptress squirmed in his lap, he sucked in a breath. “Amanda, sit still.”

  “I can’t.” She wiggled and bucked. “It hurts.”

  “I know, darling.” Cursing his carelessness, he stared at the ceiling and mentally plotted his tack with ruthless precision. In an effort to gain some semblance of control, he rolled his shoulders and gritted his teeth. With her needs as his principal priority, he untied the ribbon at her bodice, loosened the garment and the chemise, set his hand to her bare breast, and halted. Had she withdrawn in any measure, or expressed even the minutest amount of fear, he would have ceased his tender offensive. Amanda had not so much as flinched. “All right, love. There are ways to satisfy the hunger that ails you without the deflowering, but you must do as I say.”

  “Tell me, and I shall obey.” She arched her back, and he doubted her oath. “Please.”

  The provocative lady could not have known it, but she had just uttered the one word guaranteed to undermine his personal fortifications.

  Claiming another boon, but mindful it was not one she had intended to share, he licked her pert nipple and paused for her response. She sighed, and he chuckled. Again and again, he suckled and laved her responsive flesh, pressing on her a gentle massage calculated to calm. As she relaxed in his embrace, with a rhythmic rush of whimpers playing an arresting accompaniment, he walked his fingers to the hem of her skirt, flicked up the heavy material, and located the lace trim of her garter. At a monotonous pace, he traced tiny circles along the sensitive inner side of her thigh, yet she sounded no alarm.

  Following the pattern he had devised, he brushed the curls at the center of her core and waited for her reaction. For about a minute, he sensed she watched him in the dark, and then she cupped his cheek. Then, to his unutterable surprise, she spread her legs wide in unmistakable invitation.

  Grateful for the dim conditions of their refuge, he fought uncharacteristic tears, as her implied surrender touched him beyond comprehension and fostered emotions he never knew he possessed. Lost in the moment, Mark covered her lips with his and thrust a finger inside the succulent folds at the apex of her thighs.

  In concert with his thumb at the nub of her desire, he set an unhurried cadence in her honey harbor, as their tongues twined. Then, at regular intervals, he built speed, tapping a drumbeat in accordance with the maddening twist and turn of her hips and her muted moans.

  All too soon, Amanda yanked and pulled his hair, just as her body went rigid with completion, but she remained true to her promise, with nary a shriek. Then and there, he promised himself he would have her screaming with pleasure on their wedding night. And then her magnificent contractions rippled about his finger, gathered steam, seared a path from his hand to his gut, and the loaded cannon in his crotch fired a violent volley in his breeches, which left him gasping in relief and astonishment.

  How long Mark sat there, grinning like a fool, he neither knew nor cared--until he realized his lady wept. “Why are you crying, my Amanda? Did I hurt you?”

  “No. Mine are happy tears, as you cannot hurt me, my love.” She shifted and nuzzled him. “It is just that I never knew it could be so beautiful.”

  “Neither did I, darling.” He kissed her temple, as he withdrew his finger from her supple sheath and pulled down her skirt.

  “Are you a virgin, too?” she asked in a small voice.

  “What a curious question.” And how the deuce should he answer her? Expecting--demanding honesty from his lady, he had to respond in kind. “No, Amanda. At six and twenty, I am no green lad.”

  “I see.” She sounded deflated, and he hurled a slew of silent invective on his head for ruining an otherwise memorable occasion. Sitting upright in his lap, she resituated her bodice. “Oh? Then it was special for you, as well?”

  “You truly are my officious little thing.” With a hearty chuckle, he pondered the force of his climax and stretched his booted feet. “Dearest, you were superb.”

  “Thank you, my dashing Lieutenant.” She giggled and slid from his embrace. “I suppose we should return to the ball, else Helen may search for us.”

  “Then let us away.” Mark buttoned his coat to conceal the evidence of their assignation. “As she is not a woman I would cross.”

  “And neither am I, so I shall see you Saturday, for dinner at my home?” She accepted his proffered escort and rested her palm in the crook of his elbow. “You will attend, will you not?”

  “Of course, as I am not daft.” They strolled along the gravel path. “Whereupon I will ask your father for your hand in marriage and secure his permission to fix a date for our wedding.”

  #

  Standing before the long mirror in her chamber, Amanda assessed the low-cut bodice of her blazing red velvet gown and smiled. Her lieutenant would never know what hit him. And then she closed her eyes and revisited their tryst in the Chatham’s gazebo. What he had done with his hands and his mouth, and how he had made her feel. And, oh, what she felt. Without thought, she cupped her breast, rubbed the back of her neck, and shivered.

  “Amanda, your Lieutenant Douglas has arrived.” Amanda flinched, just as her mother appeared in the entrance from the sitting room. “And you should rescue your beau before your father scares him. Daresay he learned quite a bit of mischief when your sister married, and he seems determined to put that knowledge to use. Plus, Helen is here, and you know what happens when those two combine their efforts.”

  “Stuff and nonsense, Mama.” Amanda turned to the side and checked her profile. “Mark fears nothing. But I am excited to see him, so let us join them.”

  Following in her mother’s wake, Amanda inhaled a deep breath, as her dress grew more constrictive with each successive step that brought her closer to her man. Descending the grand staircase, she anticipated Mark’s reaction when he spied her new finery, and delicious warmth simmered beneath her flesh. When she strolled into the drawing room, passion kindled the minute she met Mark’s gaze. By the time he completed a thorough inspection of her attire, scrutinizing her from top to toe, she was breathless.

  “Lady Amanda, you are a vision.” Given they dined in residence, she opted to forgo gloves, so Mark brought her bare hand to his lips and ever so briefly touched his tongue to her knuckles.

  “Good evening, Lieutenant.” Her knees buckled, and he squeezed her fingers. “I am so pleased you accepted our humble invitation. Shall we gather by the fireplace, as it is chilly tonight?”

  “Amanda--”

  “Papa, you cannot object to our minor relocation, as our family provides more than substantial chaperone.” She ushered Mark to the hearth. “Do you think so little of Lieutenant Douglas that you expect he would compromise me in full view of my parents?”

  “Oh, I say.” Helen burst into laughter. “That is your daughter, Hiram.”

  “I blame you for her willful nature.” Her father arched a brow and glared at her mother. “You encourage her without thought of the consequences.”

  As her progenitors argued the practicality and finer points of her upbringing, Amanda peered at Mark and grinned, which he mirrored to her absolute delight. “I have missed you.”

  “And I you, although I escorted you to the Promenade just this afternoon.” He smirked. “Promise me something.”

  “Anything, my dashing
Lieutenant.” She radiated with excitement. “As I am at your service, unreservedly.”

  “I like the sound of that, and I would have your word, as a lady, that you will wear that gown on our honeymoon.” After a surreptitious glance over his shoulder, he faced her. In a low voice, he said, “As I would peel that sumptuous garment from your body, inch by glorious inch.”

  “Oh, Mark.” Amanda whispered, “I can’t stop thinking of the other night.”

  “Neither can I, sweetheart.” He shifted his weight. “And I am quite relieved that our prurient pursuit has not shocked or alarmed you.”

  “Why should I be shocked or alarmed when I am with you?” She lifted her chin and steeled herself to pose the one question foremost on her mind. “As it stands, I have wondered if our meeting had given you pause for reflection, as it could not have been very satisfying for you.”

  “My naïve temptress, you have no idea how satisfying I found our liaison.” Mark shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. “Suffice it to say, it benefitted me in equal measure.”

  “Really?” Puzzled, she pictured the moment in her mind. “But how can that be, as I did nothing to inspire you.”

  “Do not underestimate the power you wield over me, love.” Mark chuckled. “Trust me, you did plenty.”

  She blinked. “I do not understand.”

  “You will once we are wed.”

  “Must we wait?” She bit her lip. “Can we not do it again? Next week is the final gala before the ton departs for their country estates to celebrate the holidays, so we have no time to lose.”

  “Are you not the naughty minx?” He clucked his tongue and narrowed his stare. “While nothing would give me greater joy, I would wait until we have made our vows.”

  “And I would have otherwise.” She cast him a flirty pout. “Do you not want me?”

  “You know very well I do, my Amanda.” A red hue permeated his cheeks. “But I will not--”