After satisfying himself that all corners of the field were well saturated, he returned to where Matthias still stood, his feet braced apart, his hands resting on his hips.
"Couldn't have done better myself, little brother," Levi acknowledged. "But, we'll have to get some hands out here today to whack off those blossoms or our tobacco will taste like smoking paper." Levi looked fondly down at his brother. His usually immaculate attire was crusted with dirt and the dried salt of sweat. "We'll make a tobacco farmer out of you yet."
"Not if I can help it," Matthias retorted, but he seemed almost pleased with the compliment.
***
It was early evening before Jensen set sights on her giant of a husband. She watched his approach, his broad frame nearly obscuring the candlelight emanating from the doorway of the parlor behind him. For a moment, she contemplated making an escape into one of the connecting rooms and then thought better of it. Instead, she held her chin up and favored him with a nonchalant smile.
"'Tis good to see you up and about. I hope you are not pushing yourself too hard."
"Actually, I haven't been doing much at all except giving orders."
She lifted her hand to touch his forehead. "Your skin feels cool," she said, shyly dropping her hand back to her side.
For what seemed like an eternity, his intense gaze held hers. "The coolness is just a facade, the truth is I'm burning up inside."
"Levi, I . . . ." He put his fingers to her lips.
"Don't, Duff, with that face and voice, I'm liable to end my torment right here."
Bashful, she dropped her eyes.
"Sweet thing," he drawled and hauled her roughly against the length of his body. One hand cradled her head, his fingers plunging into her upswept hair, undoing all Celia's hard work. He rubbed his lips with provocative slowness against hers. His tongue thrust its way into her mouth, stroking hers with deliberate possessiveness. When he finally drew away, she felt like a newborn foal, barely able to support her weight on her wobbly limbs.
"Tonight," he promised, before striding away.
As usual, she sat at his right side at the long, ebony dinner table. She found it impossible to concentrate on the conversation with him so near. The candlelight illuminated the smooth planes of his freshly shaven face. Twice, while in conversation with Matthias, he responded with one of his lopsided smiles. How she'd missed seeing that dimple. On its own volition, her hand seemed to leave her fork, her fingers tracing the deep crease in his cheek.
He turned to her with raised brows, the smile deepening to a full-fledged grin. "You flirtin' with me, Duff?"
How could she deny the obvious, she wondered, as she quickly tucked her offending hand into her lap. "Aye," she said on a sigh, peering at him through her lowered lashes.
"Darlin', you needn't blush like that. It's not a sin to flirt with your husband."
Trying to regain her composure, she brought her wineglass to her lips. She took a generous sip and then another. By the time she set the glass down, she was feeling slightly tipsy and more than a little reckless. His finger dabbed off a lingering drop of port from her bottom lip. She felt her body grow hot as he brought his finger to his mouth.
***
In what way, Levi wondered, could the words--excuse me, I think I shall retire early--be interpreted as an invitation. And yet, he'd already divested himself of his neckcloth as he headed up the stairs. He didn't bother knocking at her door before stepping inside. The room was empty. He could hear her luscious, honeyed voice flowing from his connecting chamber.
As he opened the adjoining door, he was already shrugging out of his jacket. Throwing it, along with the neckcloth, onto a chair, his eyes riveted to the slender ankles protruding from beneath his bed.
Jensen wriggled and writhed to push herself deeper. Her chemise inched up, baring her to the thigh.
"Duff, what are you doing down there?" He heaved a sigh, "Come out please, you're torturing me."
She slid out on the smooth, wood floor. Her hair had come loose from its anchor of combs, hanging in dishabille around her shoulders.
"Blame your wolf." She looked near to tears. "I wanted to look pretty for you tonight, but the naughty thing decided my new nightrail looked a tasty treat."
His eyes slid to the gossamer cloth of her undergarment, which was secured at her shoulders with the thinnest of blue satin ribbons. The rose nipples of her lush breasts pushed invitingly against the sheer fabric.
"Duff, you'd look beautiful dressed in a gunnysack." He whistled. Ginger slunk out with what was left of her nightdress. "Well, girl, it seems I've trained you well." His fingers ruffled the animal's nape.
"And just what is that supposed to mean?" Jensen asked, her hands on her hips. When shots rang out in the courtyard, followed by whistling and shouting, she forgot her indignation and scrambled on all fours across the bed and threw herself into his arms.
Her breath was warm and sweet, and he forgot completely about the gunfire as he slanted his mouth over hers. Another round was fired, closer this time, and reluctantly, he peeled her hands from around his neck.
Levi gave a grunt of exasperation before pulling a pistol from his nightstand. "Stay here," he ordered before throwing wide the terrace door.
Levi took aim and fired over the rail, hitting cook's big, brass gong strung from the great oak. The musket ball licked the feathers that adorned his friend's hair. The horse whipped its big head and danced sideways.
"Whoa, girl." Malaton gave a sharp jerk on the reins. "Well, that was some greeting, considering you alerted every tavern and trading post this side of the Ohio that you were looking for me."
"Where in God's name have you been?"
Malaton ran his hand over his head as though he was making certain it was still attached to his neck. "Baking apple pies and quilting. Where the devil do you think I've been? I'm a trapper remember, the animals don't find me, you know."
"Is that DuChamp with you?"
The other rider nodded his head slightly in acknowledgement.
"Let me speak to my wife a moment, and I'll be right down."
"Wife? Did you say wife? Christ, Hawk, I've only been gone two seasons. I wish you'd confer with me before you make these foolhardy decisions."
Levi responded with a laugh.
"Finally got yourself leg-shackled to the redhead. I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later." He spoke a few guttural words to his still skittish mount and stroked its neck. "Speaking for myself, a man who has no use for so much swampland, I would have taken a turn with that English wench."
As though on cue, Jensen, barefooted, padded out onto the terrace to stand beside him. He shot her a sidelong glance, relieved to find she'd taken the time to don his jacket.
"I do hope you're not talking about this English wench."
Jensen leaned over the balcony, and Malaton stood up in the stirrups to get a better look. "You dog! As a matter of fact that is the one," Malaton said with a scoundrel's grin. "How're you doing, sweet thing?"
"Fine. How are you Malaton?" she asked with a friendly wave.
"Bonsoir, Madame," said his friend, removing his floppy brimmed hat and bowing his greasy head low over the pommel.
"Let me introduce you to my wife."
"I've already had the pleasure of meeting her at . . . ."
"Oh let me assure you, that you have not had the pleasure." All eyes turned quizzically to Levi. "I'm certain she just reminds you of someone you've met," he informed the Frenchman with deadly conviction.
DuChamp hesitated for only a moment before agreeing. "Of course, I was mistaken. An honor to meet you, Mrs. North."
"I'll have Maggie make up the guest rooms. Fetch something to eat and meet me in the study"
"Right now?" Malaton's disbelieving gaze lit on Jensen. "Isn't that taking Virginia hospitality a step too far? You won't offend me if you hold off giving me a proper greeting till the morning, old friend."
"Mal, muzzle it. Meet me downstairs."
Still peering over the balcony, Jensen ignored his exasperated sighs as he held the door for her. "I do know that man. 'Tis Pietro, Rosy's friend."
He grabbed her arm, yanked her inside, and proceeded to twirl her around.
"What in heaven's name are you doing?"
"Just checking to see if you've taken to wearing a sign on your back boasting that you spied for the French."
"I didn't spy. I merely transported some confidential information for a very worthy cause."
"You could hang for transporting that confidential information."
Seeing the color leave her face, he hauled her against his chest. "Don't worry, little mouse, I'll make certain nothing ever happens to you." He lowered his mouth to hers, and she met his kiss, rubbing her small tongue eagerly against his. He groaned as she pressed her flat stomach against his throbbing erection.
Her lips still clung desperately to his as he wrapped his hands around her waist. A small moan escaped her as he set her away from him.
Tilting his head, he eyed her suspiciously. "I am suddenly wondering why you have decided to become so accommodating?"
She ran her palms down the sides of her chemise. "I would like to make you an offer," she said abruptly in a too loud voice.
"Ah, now this should be interesting." He rummaged in his drawer until he found the cool silver flask. His sweet and suddenly obliging wife was about to make him a deal, and he felt the need to fortify himself. He ignored the way the corners of her mouth turned down with disapproval at the sight of the flask in his hand and swung the ladderback chair away from the wall, straddled it backward, and lifted the whiskey to his mouth.
After one more generous swallow, he draped his hand over the top of the chair. The flask dangled from his fingers, and he began tapping it impatiently on the wood rungs.
With excruciating slowness, she began to remove the few pins that still dangled from her hair and then lifted his brush from the dresser with a questioning look.
"Certainly," he said, with a brusque wave of his hand.
She ran her fingers over the sleek oak of the handle. The physical sensation that always swept over him whenever she touched anything that belonged to him was so strong now it was as if the brush were his hand, and he were combing his fingers through the gold silk of her hair.
"The offer, Jensen, remember?" he prompted.
"The offer is this," she prefaced, shifting from foot to foot. "I would be a true wife to you, take part in running your household, share your bed . . . . Until the court papers are complete, of course."
He lifted the flask to his lips only to find it empty. He hurled it, and it ricocheted off the nightstand before landing soundlessly on the Persian rug. "Mighty generous offer, but what's my end of this devil's bargain?" She flinched at his nasty remarks, but he didn't let it stop him. "A sizable settlement, a piece of Moss Rose, the earnings from my racing stables?" He got to his feet, abruptly causing the chair to totter for a second on its legs before coming to rest.
She flushed. "You needn't be so cruel."
"You can't blame me for not trusting you, Duff Hawthorne."
"Will you never let me live down that lie?" she asked. "Are you so virtuous a person that you have never told one yourself?"
She backed away as he approached until he had her pressed up against the wardrobe.
Levi ran his thumb under her chin. "I've told one, angel eyes, that rivals Hawthorne." He ran his open mouth up her throat. "Would you like to know what it is?"
She gave a reluctant nod. "The solicitor, who was to handle our divorce, he doesn't exist."
His hands slid beneath the coat and cupped her breasts, pushing them so high they nearly spilled over her neckline. He dipped his head again and laved the nipples through the soft cambric.
Her small hands took hold of his head and tugged him upright. "I don't understand."
He wet her trembling mouth with his tongue. "It's quite simple, really. There will be no divorce, Jensen. Not ever."
Her eyes grew huge, and her fingers bit into the muscles of his arm. "Truly?"
Unsettled by her reaction, he took her hands and pinned them to her side. "Fact is, darlin', you are my wife, and it's time you started acting like it." He slid the coat from her shoulders and yanked it on himself, adjusting the fit over his shoulders. "I have to meet with Malaton." He inclined his head toward the huge walnut bed. "Make yourself comfortable."
"Meet with Malaton?"
"Don't worry, I won't be long."
***
After pacing the floor for several minutes, staring holes in the door, and giving the pillow a hard, cathartic pummeling, Jensen gave up waiting. Snatching up what remained of her nightrail, she retired to her room and double-checked that the lock was fastened before crawling dejectedly into her bed.
She was staring at the ceiling when he growled her name through the door.
Burrowing deeper under the bedclothes, she responded timidly, "Your business dealings ran late. I'm a bit drowsy." She yawned for effect.
"Stand away from the door," he said through the crack in the door.
"Pardon?" she asked, pulling the quilt down to hear him clearly.
"I said, stand away from the door," he said slowly and distinctly.
"Oh--Ohhh!" she screamed as his heavily booted foot splintered the lock and sent the latch flying.
Moments later, she lay sprawled atop his bed. "You will be gentle, won't you?" she asked ridiculously of the man who had left the heavy oaken door little more than a pile of kindling.
"Get naked," he responded in the most ungentle tone she could imagine and began yanking off his own clothes.
She got to her knees and busied herself with the minute pearl buttons.
"Let me help you with that." He was already standing bare to the waist, the powerful muscles of his chest gilded by the firelight. With one barely perceptible flick of his wrist, he ripped the chemise. Somehow he'd managed to split both seams.
She glanced down at the cambric material now puddled around her knees. "Between you and your wolf, I won't have much left to wear."
Feeling immodest, she subtly drew her hair forward to veil her breasts. "I do not understand why you are so angry with me. I was not the one that went off to attend to business. What could have possibly been so important?"
His knuckles burrowed deep into the soft bedding on either side of her thighs. As he leaned close, she could feel the heat rising off his skin. "If you must know, I was saving your little neck." His eyes dropped and hungrily studied her tantalizingly naked form.
"That's where you went on our wedding night, isn't it. You weren't arming your ships, you were tracking down Malaton?"
"Clever girl." He brushed the hair back behind her shoulders, his eyes glinting with feral intensity.
Suddenly a little worried, she clutched his arms, and his skin seemed to burn her fingers. "Levi, you do know you are the first."
He straightened, towering over her. "Sweet liar. I'm not that lucky." His lips quirked into a rueful half-smile. "You needn't pretend the innocent. I don't hold you to blame. I'm certain Mansfield would not be denied. And those lodgings. Rosy's girls--" He cut himself short, as though he feared she would bolt if he continued voicing his suspicions. "I will settle for last." She couldn't help noticing, though, that he gave his lucky earring a wistful tug.
"First," she insisted with an awed whisper as she watched him strip off his breeches.
"Only," she said, amazing even herself as her curious fingers reached out to stroke the powerful length of him. He felt like velvet over hard, hot steel, and she shivered at the desire he inspired in her.
"Ah, Duff," he groaned as he watched her hand slide over him, her thumb catching the drop of moisture beading the tip and smoothing a circular path.
On impulse, she ran her tongue over the ragged scar on his side. He threw his head back, his Adam's apple becoming more prominent as he swallowed hard.
"No more," he said, his
voice as heavy as syrup.
Taking her hand away, he pushed her back onto the bed. Straddling her thighs, his breath came hard. His black hair draped his face as his tongue traced the swell of her breasts. She gasped as his teeth tugged gently on her nipple.
Shifting to his side, he pulled her with him, his mouth suckling now on her tingling nipple. Moving her even closer, his open mouth sought her other breast. She could feel the muscles of his shoulders bunching beneath her hands as his hand smoothed over the curve of her hip, his thumb teasing her triangle of golden curls.
Moving to his knees, he situated himself between her sleek thighs. He cupped her bottom, lifting her so that his eyes could appreciate her fully. Dipping his head, his tongue grazed the satin flesh between her cleft. He groaned then, a pure animal groan, before tasting her with a fierce hunger. The feel of his mouth on her was so exquisite, she writhed in his hands. Then his finger replaced his mouth, testing her tight sheath. Unable to bear it, she tugged his arms bringing him closer until their tongues tangled in a heated kiss. He eased himself just barely inside her as his kiss deepened. She clutched at his broad back, a little fearful of his power.
"Levi," she moaned as his hand slid beneath her bottom tilting her open for his hard shaft. With a single motion, he plunged deep inside the tight, wetness of her. She sucked in a startled breath, and he stilled for a moment.
"God, Jens, what a fool I've been." His gaze held hers with such heart-rending intensity that her eyes filled with tears. Seizing his face in her hands, she brought his lips to hers. His mouth mated with hers in a voracious kiss.
He moved again, slowly at first, but soon his movements grew faster, dominating her senses, until she responded, her body arching wildly to meet his driving rhythm. The intolerable pleasure brought her to a dizzying peak. "Levi," she cried. He heaved into her one last time, shuddering with release.
Tucked into the crook of his arm, his other hand skimming the small of her back, she nuzzled against his chest. "I told you, you were my first."
He clutched her tighter. "I've decided to settle for only."
As her eyes slid closed, he asked, "Why were you helping the French?"
"Hmm? Oh . . . love," she answered drowsily. In a flash, she found herself on her back, pinned beneath his weight. Ignoring his furious gaze for a moment, she stretched herself luxuriously beneath him, enjoying his naked smoothness, smiling with satisfaction as his desire surged again.
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