“And how would you even know that, from the collective fifteen minutes you spent with them over five years?” When he said nothing, she asked, “Do you deny assiduously avoiding everyone but my father?”
He couldn’t deny it—he’d never wanted Jane to see how awkward he was around groups of people. “You ken I’ve usually preferred my own company.”
“At least my family was kind to you. Unlike your brothers’ treatment of me.”
“My brothers were no’ unkind to you.”
“Are you jesting? One entire summer, Ethan crept about like a frightful ghost in his lair with the entire side of his face bandaged from some mysterious injury—which you would never talk about. And if anyone happened to glance at his face, he’d roar with fury and run them off.”
Ethan had been a harrowing sight that summer. And every summer after. “And Court?”
She gave him an incredulous look. “My God, I think he’s the angriest man I’ve ever encountered, always simmering. You never knew when he was going to go off. Being around him was like sidling around a bear trap. And it wasn’t a secret that he wasted no love on me.”
No, Court had never liked Jane. Hugh supposed Court had resented the girl who tagged along with them everywhere and was frustrated that Hugh didn’t mind at all. That last summer, Court had despised her teasing treatment of his brother, never considering that Hugh woke every morning impatient to return for it, day after day.
But Hugh hadn’t known Jane felt as strongly about Court, and about Ethan, as well. “I dinna realize it was so bad.”
“You never seemed to notice these things because you were so used to them.” She adjusted a vase on a shining end table, as if she couldn’t stand its perfect placement. Seeming to calm herself, she said, “Hugh, rehashing all this will help nothing. When I ask you questions, you don’t have to answer them, and you can be as dismissive as you please. That’s your prerogative. My prerogative is that I don’t have to be around you when it’s avoidable.”
“The subjects you brought up are difficult ones.”
She raised her eyebrows, waiting for more.
“If I answer one question, you’ll ask a dozen more about my answer, no matter if I doona want to talk about it. You’re no’ happy until everything’s laid bare.”
“I do apologize for wanting to know more about a man I used to be friends with, who disappeared for years without a word, who has now returned to be my husband in an odd marriage of convenience.”
“Damn it, I told your father to tell you good-bye.”
She glared at that. “Don’t you think I deserved it from you? It’s becoming clear to me that we didn’t have the friendship I’d imagined. I must have been like a gnat in your ear, a silly little girl who followed you around when you only wanted to hunt or fish with your brothers.”
“We were friends—”
“A friend would have told me good-bye when he knew he was leaving and had no intention of returning for years.”
Could she have thought of him? Could she have missed him? “Are you angry about that?”
“I’m puzzled. I would have told you good-bye.”
“I dinna believe you would even think of me much after I’d gone. I dinna think you would care overmuch one way or the other.”
She didn’t deny it or confirm it, just continued, “But now you’ve come back and we’re in this confusing situation, and I’m trying to reason it all out, but I don’t have enough information. Papa told me this might take months. Are we to be like this the entire time, with you cutting me off or getting angry when I ask questions?”
“I doona want to be that way. I just…I just doona know how to handle this as well as I should.”
“What do you mean by ‘this’?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jane, sometimes you throw me. And I’m unused to being married—even if it’s only temporary.”
“Very well, Hugh. Let’s start with an easy question.” When she raised her eyebrows, he nodded grimly. “Why would my father ever find occasion to associate with someone as deranged and violent as Grey?”
That’s an easy question? “Grey was no’ always like this. He came from a wealthy and well-respected family. He had strong connections.”
“And he was your good friend?”
“Aye.”
“Did you try to help him with his affliction?”
Hugh chose every word carefully, knowing he owed her more of the truth, but unable to divulge his own dealings without revealing everyone’s. “I attempted to reason with him, bully him, bargain with him. Nothing worked.”
After that, Hugh and Ethan had decided to take matters into their own hands to wean him from opium. They’d captured Grey and carted him back to one of Ethan’s estates.
Grey had been furious, frothing at the mouth, spouting insults. Either he had always been a sick bastard—and opium, like liquor, magnified his faults—or his entire personality had been altered.
He’d vowed that if Hugh couldn’t “muster the ballocks to finally go fuck Jane Weyland as she so clearly needs,” then he’d make short work of her. Hugh barely remembered lunging for Grey’s throat and raining blows on his face. Ethan had scarcely been able to haul Hugh off. Afterward, all three of them had seemed shocked by Hugh’s utter loss of control.
But after two weeks in a basement, Grey had emerged, seemingly cured. For a year, Hugh had believed he’d maintained an even keel. Ethan, however, suspected Grey only waited for a chance to strike out, and he’d been right.
“I thought for a while that he’d gotten better. But the last time I saw him, his pupils were like pinpricks even in the night….”
Seeing Hugh’s disappointment, Grey had self-consciously smoothed his soiled jacket and given him a half grin, and with it a glimpse of his old self. His accent had been clipped and proper, even as he looked away and said softly, “I didn’t want to be like this, you know.”
“Then why?” Hugh had asked.
“Not quite the way I’d planned things, as it were,” he’d continued lightly, but when Hugh said nothing, Grey finally cast Hugh a look that was raw, unguarded. “I woke up one morning, and I was nothing but that number.” He averted his face again as if embarrassed. “Good-bye, Scot.” Then he’d walked away….
Hugh shook off the memory. “He was lost for good.”
“Do you miss your friendship with him?”
After a long hesitation, Hugh nodded. He did, even as he now burned for Grey to die—and even as Hugh knew his brother was out in the world, seeking to kill him.
Twenty-two
“Hugh! It’s me.”
He blinked his eyes open. He was clutching Jane’s wrist as she leaned over him, her expressive face full of worry. He released her and fell back onto the bed. “Jane?” He ran his hand over his brow, finding it damp with sweat.
“What’re you doing in here?”
“I heard something. I thought you were having a nightmare.”
“Aye.” He was often plagued with nightmares, murky scenes of targets who refused to die. He had always strived to make clean shots, to make it quick. But sometimes at great distances, in inclement weather, he’d failed to do so. When the shot was off the mark, they often writhed; some screamed shrilly. “Did I say anything?”
She shook her head. “What was the nightmare about?”
“No’ important.” It was then that he noticed her nightdress. Clinging, sheer white silk. His gaze dropped to her breasts—and she noticed, nibbling her lip.
At once, he sat up and snatched a bundle of the cover over his sudden erection. “Damn it, you canna come in dressed like that.” His voice was hoarse.
“I rushed in when I heard you. I didn’t stop for a robe.”
“When will you learn, Jane? I’ve told you, I’ve a man’s needs. And when I see you like this…”—he shook his head hard—“it affects me. I doona want to do something we’d both regret.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “You’re sayi
ng the sight of me in a nightgown is so irresistible it might make you, a man of the world, lose control?”
“Aye,” he said simply, then added, “I’ve been long without a woman, Jane, and you are verra beautiful—”
“What do you mean, long?” She angrily crossed her arms. “As in four days?”
He frowned. “What’re you speaking of?”
“I saw you go into Lysette’s room. And come out with your shirt untucked.”
His eyes narrowed. “You would no’ have seen that if you had stayed locked in the room.”
Her voice was cutting. “That is of no matter.”
“She tried to seduce me.”
“Tried to, or succeeded?”
“Are you jealous?” He didn’t dare hope she could be. Didn’t dare hope she felt the blistering envy that clawed at him when he thought of her with another.
She put her chin up and sniffed, “You spent our wedding night in the arms of another woman. I hardly felt complimented by it.”
“So it’s your vanity that’s been injured.” Disappointment settled over him. In a deadened tone, he said, “I dinna sleep with her.”
“You didn’t?” Her arms fell to her sides as if they’d gone boneless.
“Why do you sound so disbelieving?”
“It was clear she wanted you.”
“I took a vow to you, and until that vow is annulled, I’ll keep it. Now, go back to your room.”
Her hand fluttered to her forehead. “I see.” Strangely, her face had paled. After a moment, she nodded. “I’ll try to straighten my room. And don’t worry about me ‘carrying on’ anymore.”
“And what’s brought about this change?” Hugh demanded, about to bellow with frustration. “Because now your vanity’s intact and you lost no competition with Lysette? So you can go back to being decent to me?”
She seemed to flinch at that. “It wasn’t competitiveness or vanity. And I’m sorry for how I’ve behaved.” She looked as though she genuinely meant it.
His ire eased somewhat, and he softened his tone. “Then what, Jane?
Twining her hands, she said nothing.
“You’re making me crazed, lass. I know you’re unhappy, and I doona know how to change that.” He rubbed his forehead, and exhaled. “Tell me how to change that.”
At length, she whispered, “I was unhappy because I was jealous.”
Jane left him with his lips parted and brows drawn, and withdrew to her room, easing the door nearly closed.
She stood trembling against the wall with her hands flat against the rich wainscoting. Though she’d wanted to stay in his room, she’d stepped back. She was proud of herself and felt mature for her decision, especially since she’d been flooded with compelling impulses—along with many Bad Ideas on how to handle them. She was a mix of roiling emotions.
It was possible that Jane could have been more awful to Hugh over the past few days, but she couldn’t conceive of how. “I know you’re unhappy, and I doona know how to change that,” he’d said, sounding so weary. Immediately, Jane had remembered her father’s words—Hugh tries….
She squeezed her eyes tight, embarrassed at her cutting behavior, even as she was so pleased with him, so relieved that Hugh hadn’t touched that woman. Of course, a major deterrent to her feelings for him had just been eliminated. Which brought about her revelation.
Was she right back where she’d been at the inn as she sat on the table? When she’d feared letting him out of her sight?
Yes—
Jane’s eyes shot open when Hugh’s hand wrapped around the back of her neck. He’d pulled on his pants and entered her room silently, giving her little warning before he dragged her to his naked chest. Leaning down, he slanted his lips over hers, groaning at the contact. He broke away only to ask, “You were truly jealous?” then set back in.
Telling him the truth could open her up to hurt, could accelerate the rate at which she dropped off that cliff. And still, between their licking, seeking kisses, she whispered, “I didn’t want you kissing her. Because you should’ve still been kissing me.”
At her admission, he tensed, hesitating for only a heartbeat before he lifted her in his arms, striding with her back to his bedroom.
“Hugh?” she murmured in a daze. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve something on my mind,” he said, setting her on the bed, following her down. As he leaned above her, his dark hungry gaze flickered over her, and his voice broke low. “Something I need tae see.”
He rubbed an unsteady hand over his mouth, looking like a man in agony. His body seemed to thrum with tension. Frowning, she brought her palms up to cup his face, but he shuddered, even at that slight touch. What was happening here?
For all the books she’d read, for all that she’d heard from her cousins and learned in London, she’d never imagined a man behaving like this—as though he were about to die from desire. The erotic books she’d read never had accounts of men’s bodies shuddering with lust, pained with a need so great they could scarcely speak and could barely stand to be touched.
He reached forward to brush her nightdress straps down her shoulders, then dipped a kiss to her collarbone. Just as she felt cool air on her breasts and belly, he hissed something in Gaelic, and sank back on his haunches to stare. She felt his gaze on her bared skin like a touch and arched her back for him.
Leaning forward once more, he rasped, “Mercy.”
She thought she would scream in pleasure with the first wet flick of his tongue to her aching nipple. He cradled her breast with his whole hand, holding her in place as he sucked her between his lips.
“Hugh,” she moaned, threading her fingers through his thick hair. “It feels so good when you do that.”
His other hand was easing upward between her legs, his fingers caressing as they slowly ascended. “Tell me tae stop this,” he said against her breast.
She shook her head, body quivering when he kneaded her inner thigh, coaxing her to spread her legs wider. The rough texture of his hand abraded her tender skin, but she loved it.
“Tell me now.” His palm rubbed upward. She shook her head again and whimpered, afraid she was about to climax. She didn’t want this ever to end.
“Ah, God, I canna stop.” His fingers passed the thatch between her legs. “I need tae stroke you here.”
She cried out when he slipped the pad of his thumb against her clitoris, rubbing it sensuously. Another finger delved to her slick sex. “So wet.” He lowered his head, and against her damp nipple, he said, “You’d be ready for me, would you no’?”
When he spread the moisture and continued his slow, agonizing strokes, she writhed helplessly to his touch. “Please, Hugh,” she said, panting. “Don’t stop.”
He raised his head, studying her face. “I will no’.” His voice sounded hoarse, lost. “I want tae make you…make you come for me.” He stroked more firmly. “Tae see you—”
She gave a strangled moan—she was already there.
Twenty-three
Hugh gazed in awe as she suddenly arched her back, hands clutching the sheets.
Without thought, he set four fingers on her, cupping and rubbing her sex fast, mouth sucking greedily on her nipple to make it stronger for her. With his other hand, he snatched up her gown so he could watch her body twisting with pleasure.
She gave a breathy cry that made his cock jerk painfully in answer, and her knees fell wide open. In utter abandon, she rocked her hips against his hand, over and over, until the tension left her.
Trembling, she fell back onto the arm he’d draped behind her, lying docile and open as he slowly continued to pet her flesh.
He couldn’t catch his breath. The sight of his fingertips against the wet auburn curls at her sex…He was going to lose his seed right in his trousers.
She leaned up to bury her face against his neck. To his disbelief, she whispered how much she loved his touch. His touch. After a decade fantasizing about it, he’d made her come.
>
And it was the most incredible experience he’d ever had.
Her breaths were warm and quick, and between her words, she gave his neck little licks that made his cock grow impossibly hotter and harder.
At that moment, spending in his pants did not strike him as a bad idea.
He inwardly shook himself and pulled away, but she’d looped her soft arms around his neck and eased a knee up beside his waist.
“Hugh, what about you? Won’t you stay with me?” She tugged gently, until he allowed himself to settle his hips between her thighs.
She wanted him to come as well? Could he drag himself away? Not when she undulated her bared sex against him. Impossible. He was burning to free himself and sink into her slick heat, desperate to ride her mindlessly, finally taking what he’d needed for so long.
Instead, when she did that sensual roll of her hips again, he tentatively thrust back against her. She sucked in a breath.
“Dinna hurt you?” he choked out.
When she said, “No, darling, no,” he leaned up and found his hand shooting between them to rip open the fastening of his trousers. He shoved his pants down to his thighs, baring his cock, so that it hung down over her.
They were both breathing heavily, staring at where their bodies almost touched. Their flesh was so close. Her eyes were half-lidded as she stared at his shaft, at the slick head. As if in a dream, he watched as she rolled her hips again, seeking him. He put his straightened arms on each side of her, holding himself up, sweating with the effort not to take her.
He knew he couldn’t have her, even when it felt so right to be here with her like this. He was awash in how right it felt. Yet, unable to stop himself, he pressed his own hips down. Lower, so slowly, until his shaft grazed against her swollen little clitoris.
His eyes rolled back in his head.
She gave a cry and another undulation that nearly put his cockhead inside her, ending everything. One of his hands shot to her hip to pin her down, then he pressed his shaft harder against her mound. He stayed there, letting it throb against her. Where his control came from, he had no idea. He only knew he had to stretch out every second, to make it last the rest of his life.
Kresley Cole - [MacCarrick Brothers 02] Page 14