Captain and Countess

by Alice Gaines

  For a moment, neither of them moved. Instead, they stared into each other’s eyes, saying more with their hearts than words could ever convey. Love so deep they could drown in it. A connection so complete they’d never be truly apart again, even when separated by miles and years.

  Then he kissed her again, but with a new meaning. His lips captured hers with a certainty of fit that promised that they’d always have this perfect joining to give them comfort in the times to come.

  Eventually, though, her body made its demands known. The throbbing had begun before she took possession of him, and now it escalated to a driving need. She had all his hardness inside her, but wanted the friction of him thrusting and retreating. With him pinned against the pillows and his shoulder still wounded, she’d have to do the work. So she pushed upward, gripping him with her inner muscles as she rose, and then impaled herself on him again until he filled her to her core. Still she couldn’t get enough of him. With more authority now, she raised and lowered herself onto him. A steady rhythm like the one he’d used on her.

  “So good,” he crooned. “So tight.”

  “You’re so blessed big.”

  “You flatter me.”

  “Not flattery. Truth.” She let out a low moan of desire.

  “We’ll need to be quiet in case someone walks past outside,” he said.

  “I can if you can.”

  “We’ll see,” he said, as his hips began a thrust of their own. Though he couldn’t move much, he could still press upward to meet her downward glides, and soon they were pushing against each other. Reaching for more contact. Striving to give and take maximum pleasure.

  “You’re going to make me spend, you know,” he said.

  “That’s the idea, isn’t it?”

  “I wish we could keep this up forever,” he said. “Or at least the next few hours.”

  “Greedy bastard.” She rocked her pelvis forward and back, savoring yet another way of feeling him inside her.

  “I wish I could roar like a lion to tell the world what we’re doing and that you’re my mate,” he said.

  “I’ll settle for feeling your release inside me,” she said.

  “You shall certainly have that.”

  By now, their movements had become more frantic as each approached the end of their tether. She closed her eyes and kept working him as he slipped his hand between their bodies and found her pearl. He knew what that would do to her, of course. It was his gift to her, his knowledge of her most private flesh. He rubbed the little bud with just the right pressure. Pressing and stroking until she became a carnal creature, created for just this moment with this man.

  She snapped finally as her sex tightened, holding him for long seconds, and then burst into climax, convulsing along the length of his shaft. She had to bite her lip to keep from shouting, it was that intense. Tiny noises escaped, anyway, little pleas for more.

  His release followed hard on hers, as his hips thrust upward a few times, pushing so deep inside her. He grunted around clenched teeth as he emptied his essence at the entrance to her womb. She held him as it continued and then rested against him when they’d both finished. Bone-melting satisfaction settled over her as she listened to his breathing returning to normal.

  After a bit, he sighed. “Oh Bess, what are we going to do?”

  “Nothing,” she answered. “You’ll close down Hollyfield and take Miss Swan somewhere to be married.”

  “How will I live without you?”

  “One day at a time,” she said. “You’ll stay away from here, and I won’t go to London.”

  “It sounds so bleak.”

  “We’ll get used to it.” In Bess’s experience, you could get used to anything. You created your own happiness out of what life had given you. She was a great deal more fortunate than most, and so was Jason. They’d have long and happy lives without each other. He’d have children by Miss Swan and learn to love her the way she had Bert. He only needed to hope no young woman would come along to upset his serenity the way he had hers.

  She moved off him finally, separating their bodies, although his sex had softened and more or less removed itself already. “I’d best make myself presentable and then unblock the door before someone tries to come in.”

  “I think you look absolutely beautiful the way you are,” he said.

  “You would. You’re a man.” She tucked her breast back into her corset and buttoned up her dress. When she found her drawers and pulled them up beneath her chemise, she moistened the crotch with the proof of their lovemaking. No one would notice before she got home and put on some fresh ones.

  Bending, she kissed him one last time, just a lingering taste to take away with her. “Thank you again.”

  “My pleasure, Lady Rushford,” he said. “All of it.”

  She went to the door and put the chair back where it belonged. She paused with her hand on the knob.

  “You’ll be up and about soon, I expect,” she said.

  “In another day or so,” he said.

  “We won’t have a need for any more visits,” she said.

  His breath caught softly. “No, I don’t suppose we will.”

  “Good-bye, Captain Northcross.” Before he could say a word she let herself out.

  *

  Jason lay for a long time, not moving and breathing as evenly as he could to absorb the pain. Not his shoulder, but the finality of Bess’s good-bye. Parting had been inevitable, but he’d never let his mind dwell on what it would sound like when it finally happened. He’d never imagined that losing someone could slice through him like a knife.

  When the door opened again, Peter let himself in. “Lady Rushford left through the back.”

  “Did she?”

  “She seemed a bit rumpled,” Peter said. “And her expression was a lot like yours.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Sick,” Peter said. “If I were a poet, I might say forlorn.”

  “Thank heaven you’re not, then.”

  Peter sat on the end of the bed. “That must have been some visit. I could use one like it. It’s been too damned long.”

  “Find yourself a woman, then,” Jason said.

  “I did. She can’t stand the sight of me.”

  “Do you mean Miss Pembroke? She seems amiable enough.”

  “To you.” Peter made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. “She argues with me no matter what I say.”

  “Have you tried being agreeable?”

  “I can’t agree with her silly notions,” Peter said. “Women’s rights and all that rot. It’s not natural.”

  “Perhaps you could develop a better attitude.”

  “Women are fine creatures, but I don’t want to converse with them,” Peter said. “I want what you just had.”

  “Then find a willing one. You never had any trouble before.”

  “Miss Pembroke’s bewitched my cock, and he won’t have anyone else,” Peter said.

  “Do or don’t, then. It’s not my affair.”

  “Good Lord, the lady really has brought you low, hasn’t she?” Peter said.

  Jason didn’t answer. What could he say? That he’d never have passion like that again? He certainly wouldn’t with the mere girl he was about to marry. That he’d finally learned about love only to lose it? That sounded like something from a bad novel, but there it was.

  And on top of all that, he was so mad for her that he’d broken his vow to himself that he’d honor his fiancée by being faithful. Miss Swan—Alice—deserved no less, and yet every time he got around Bess, he lost his head and let his body take control.

  “We need to finish our business here and get back to London,” he said finally. Or wherever his bride wanted to have the wedding. He hadn’t spoken so much as a word to her about her plans. “You’ll forget Miss Pembroke, and I’ll stop mooning over Lady Rushford,” he added.

  “You’re probably right,” Peter said.

  “I know I am,” Jason said. �
�I’ve strayed from my original plan. Now that Montgomery’s no longer a threat, I need to get back to what we came here for.”

  “Your sister.”

  “Lily, yes. It’s time I arranged her marriage to the young duke.”

  Peter shrugged. “What if she doesn’t want to marry him?”

  “She’s too young to know what’s best for her. You couldn’t imagine what she’s been doing.”

  “Not something salacious,” Peter said. “Not your Lily.”

  Peter didn’t know about Jack Sterling’s true identity or Lily’s involvement in that enterprise. No one but the ladies had any knowledge of that. And Montgomery, and Jason had seen to shutting his mouth on the subject. The secret was secure, and Peter wouldn’t find out.

  “Just never mind what she was doing,” he said. “I didn’t utter a word, do you understand?”

  Peter raised his hands as if to ward off something unwanted. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  “I need to put her together with her childhood friend and make sure his mother observes how well they suit.”

  “Are you really going to saddle Lily with that old harridan?” Peter said.

  “It’ll be worth it when she’s a duchess.”

  “Whatever you say.” Peter got up from the bed. “I’ll help in any way I can.”

  “Thanks. I may need some assistance keeping my brother out of Mrs. Oxley’s way for a few more days.”

  “None of his experiments or his scientific theories, I take it,” Peter said.

  “And none of his violin playing, either.”

  “He sings rather well.”

  “Not a peep out of him when he’s around the others,” Jason said. “Do you think you can manage that?”

  “I must have done harder things in India, although I can’t think of what at the moment.”

  “Stout fellow. Together, we’ll get Lily engaged to her duke, and then we can all get back to town.”

  And he could begin the impossible work of forgetting the woman he loved.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Now that Jason had arranged his own match, he ought to know something about doing the same for his sister. Unfortunately, a young woman had fewer choices of action than a young man. She could flirt or show great interest in the man’s opinions—likes and dislikes, that sort of thing. But she couldn’t come right out and say she wanted to marry him.

  However, a male family member might approach a father on the young woman’s behalf. In their family, that task would fall to Thomas as the elder son, but Peter was determined to keep the viscount out of sight. And the target groom’s father had died, leaving only his mother to negotiate with, which was why a table had been set under an elm tree with tea service for four. Lily sat across from him as they waited for the duke and Mrs. Oxley.

  “I expect you to be on your best behavior,” he said.

  “I will be, to make you happy,” Lily answered. “As far as Mrs. Oxley is concerned, no matter what I do, she’ll say it’s wrong.”

  “She has every right to be demanding. Her son’s a duke and can choose from any of the eligible young ladies.”

  “He’s Will, and he’s shy. I wish you and his mother would leave him alone.”

  Jason leaned across the table toward her. “He needs a wife and an heir, and you can give him both.”

  She leaned right back at him. “I don’t love him.”

  “Love has nothing to do with this.”

  “Just because you’ve made a match without passion doesn’t mean I have to,” she said.

  “You have to if I say you do,” he said. “And you don’t know anything about passion . . . or you’d better not.”

  She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest, glowering at him. “Did you send Lady Rushford away?”

  “She went on her own.” He made a pointless gesture with his hand. “It was a mutual decision.”

  “So, am I never to see her again?”

  “Very likely not. I won’t have you running off to Carlton House after what happened when you did it before.”

  Her glower turned into a full scowl. “Fluff-head.”

  “Stop calling me that.” Bloody hell, if he could live without Bess, Lily would have to as well. “After all I’ve been through in order to save your reputation, you might show me some respect.”

  “I do respect you. I love you,” she said. “But why must I perform for that horrid woman so I can make a match with a man I don’t want to marry?”

  “Because that’s how the world works.” From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Mrs. Oxley and the young man in question. “Here they come. Remember, best behavior.”

  Jason rose as Mrs. Oxley and her son arrived at the table. “How nice of you to join us for tea. The others will be quite jealous.”

  “Such a pleasant setting,” Mrs. Oxley said. “It’s stuffy inside.”

  “Lily was very pleased to spend some time with you and Will.” He gestured toward Lily, who took his cue and rose to give Mrs. Oxley a deep curtsey.

  “I hope your manners have improved, young lady,” Mrs. Oxley said.

  “I hope so, too,” Lily answered.

  Jason gave her a warning glance, making the message as clear as he could without speaking. She was to keep a civil tongue.

  “That is, I’m sure they have,” Lily corrected. “I’ve been working hard to amend them.”

  “Good, then.” Jason pulled out a chair for Mrs. Oxley and then helped her guide it forward.

  “Hello, Lily,” the young duke finally said.

  “Hello, Will. You seem to be enjoying your time here.” Lily resumed her seat and waited a moment for Will to help her push it in, as Jason had done for Mrs. Oxley. After a few moments, the poor fellow realized what he was supposed to do and complied hastily and awkwardly. That done, he blushed. When Jason gestured for him to take the fourth chair, he sat quickly and looked away from them all.

  The Lord knew Mrs. Oxley was lucky to have some interest from Lily’s family, despite Will’s lofty title. As socially inept as the young fellow was, not many girls would get to know him, let alone think of him as husband material. Lily had liked him since childhood and still did. She might pull him out of his cocoon when no one else could.

  “Lily, would you pour?” Jason said.

  “Of course.” She did so with her usual grace, her arm a pleasing arc as she filled the cups from the silver pot. As she did that, Mrs. Oxley passed around plates of cake and sandwiches of paper-thin slices of cucumber and buttered bread. All very elegant, as was the silver and fine china with the gold rim.

  Mrs. Oxley held her cup daintily, her little finger extended. “So Miss Northcross, have you been properly educated?”

  “I think so, ma’am.”

  “Lily draws very well,” Jason said.

  “A proper lady must do more than simply draw,” Mrs. Oxley said. “When I was your age, I could sing while accompanying myself. I spoke three languages.”

  Lily held her cup, or gripped it, rather, between her thumb and forefinger. “I also write—”

  “Poetry,” Jason supplied.

  Lily’s eyebrow went up in that way she had of expressing her displeasure.

  Mrs. Oxley didn’t seem to notice but took another sip of her tea. “Who are your favorite poets?”

  “I adore Shakespeare,” Lily answered.

  “The sonnets, certainly. I wouldn’t have a young girl read the plays.” Mrs. Oxley actually shuddered. “Some of them are grisly, and the others . . . simply not decent.”

  Lily turned to Will. “You like Shakespeare, don’t you?”

  “I do indeed,” Will answered with as much animation as she’d shown since he’d arrived.

  “The sonnets,” his mother said.

  “Of course, Mama,” Will said. “The sonnets.”

  The poor fellow needed a wife—anyone to talk to besides his mother. Lily would make a perfect choice. Once she was his duchess and the mother of his heir, his own mothe
r’s importance in his life would fade into the background. For his part, Will would become a devoted husband. Attentive but not overbearing. Faithful and affectionate. All around a perfect match if he could meet Mrs. Oxley’s demands.

  “Why don’t the two of you take a stroll around the garden,” Jason said. “Get some air.”

  “Good idea.” Lily appeared far too eager to get out of a foursome that included Mrs. Oxley. “Do you like to play battledore and shuttlecock, Will?”

  “Oh, yes.” Again, the young man showed some enthusiasm. Lily could work wonders with him.

  “Then let’s do play.” Lily rose a bit too quickly, bumping the table and jostling the china. “Come along, Will. I know where we can find what we need.”

  Will joined her, and the two of them disappeared.

  “Your sister’s still a bit wild, Captain Northcross,” Mrs. Oxley said.

  “She’s young, but she has a sweet and even temper.” When she wasn’t calling him a fluff-head. “She’ll make some man an excellent wife.”

  “Indeed.” Mrs. Oxley stared at him directly for a second. She’d known what this tea was about, apparently, and had decided to accept. An excellent sign.

  “You and Miss Swan will be married soon,” she said.

  “Quite soon.” And yet, he still didn’t know where or when or any of the other details. He ought to check with her about that. He really ought.

  “She comes from an excellent family,” Mrs. Oxley said. “I believe her father is nephew to the Duke of Folkston.”

  “That’s my understanding.”

  “A match with a duke on both sides would be an excellent arrangement, wouldn’t you say?” she said.

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  Lily and Will reappeared, each with a battledore in hand. They proceeded to put some space between them and batted the shuttlecock back and forth. Will was far more graceful in his movements than one might have suspected from his shy nature, and he moved easily, returning Lily’s volleys far better than she did his. Each time she missed, they both laughed and started over.