Perhaps my moony eyes had betrayed me, though. Because while Da may not have known the long and short of it, the man was no fool.
“I see the way Johnny Brighton stares at ye,” he said the next day as we went to check on one of the sick villagers. “Sick” was merely another word for starving, and even though Da had complained multiple times to Lord Brighton about the living conditions of the cottagers, we would no doubt see another fever outbreak before the year was done, to be sure.
“Ye be careful with that one now,” he grumbled. “Don’t think for a minute the likes of him would condescend to marry the likes of ye. He’ll be having himself an heiress from America more likes than a poor steward’s daughter from Dunraven.”
But Da was wrong, and I knew Johnny would be mine. I was sure of it. It was all about slow seduction, like that book Pamela. She didn’t give it all at once, you know. It took work. Patience. But by the end of that summer, I had Johnny exactly where I wanted him.
I sat curled in his lap, letting him kiss me as his hand wandered up my skirt again. The leaves of the large oak tree shivering above us cast Johnny’s face in dappling shadows, his cheeks flushed and his eyes glassy. His other hand traveled down across my bodice, his thumb circling my nipple like a bird of prey, drawing closer and closer in tightening concentric circles. A part of me wanted to give in to the fire rising in my body, but I still had to fight not to turn away from Johnny’s mouth as he peppered my neck with kisses, that prevailing feeling of utter wrongness always haunting me in our most heated moments. My mind wandered to the architectural plans for new cottages on the edge of the property. We had to move those families out of those decrepit huts and that swampy, sandy land. Then if we drained that area, we could use it for wheat or perhaps even grazing lands. Wool was in high demand now with the new factories in Belfast, and we would be fools not to utilize some of the acreage for livestock.
My attention snapped back to focus as Johnny’s palm cupped my shoulder and shifted my body back against the cold grass. My eyes widened as I took in the sight of him fumbling with the buttons of his trousers, and I let out a high-pitched squeal and scrambled away, pushing down my skirts.
“What are you doing?”
Johnny pounded the ground, his fist clenched. “You know what I’m doing.”
I stood up, smoothing back my hair. I had anticipated this moment for months, but a flicker of terror suddenly shuddered through me. Was this the man I wanted for life? To have and to hold? In sickness and in health? A roar began in my head like a stampede of horses charging toward a cliff. For a brief second, the impulse to run tugged at my limbs. I didn’t fear lying with Johnny. Most women seemed to survive carnal relations well enough. I feared the day after. And the day after that. Once I gave myself to him, I could never return to the way things were.
“We’re just playing, Johnny. You know that.” My voice was so quiet against the sound of my heart thundering against my rib cage.
“That’s not playing, Mary!” Bolting to standing, he grabbed my arm and pulled me in for a kiss, his teeth nipping my bottom lip. His need stabbed at my hip, and I knew I had reached a crossroads. Either walk away, or continue this game. Winning the prize meant Dunraven and the chance to set things right again, with an O’Malley at the helm and a new life for the people living in these lonely, barren hills. Losing him meant…what? Marrying a cottager and pushing out babies one by one until I was too tired to fight, too exhausted to make a difference to anyone. No, it was Johnny or nothing. I could find a way to love him, make him happy. I knew I could.
I broke away from him and turned around, clutching my elbows. “I want to save myself.” I swallowed hard, looking back over my shoulder. “For my husband.”
Johnny took a deep breath and stared into the rolling hills beyond the glen. Dark clouds billowed overhead, heavy with rain. We would have to go in soon.
“Mary, you know it’s impossible for me to—”
“I know. I never expected you to—”
“But if I could, you know I—”
“Johnny, please!”
His eyes widened in alarm, and I placed a shuddering kiss against his lips.
“Let’s not speak any more of it. I know of your duties to your father, to Dunraven.”
He frowned, his crystal blue eyes clouding over. “That’s just it. The old bat won’t be around forever, and then I could be free to do what I want.”
I paused. “Are you asking me to wait for you?”
He began to pace the length of the stream, a slight bulge still evident in his pants. The die had been cast, and I let out a long exhale, giving myself fully to the next phase in my plan. And it was a good plan. Thrilling, even. But I also knew what happened to girls who gave it away to any tomcat with a stiff one. I had one asset to my name. You could judge all you wanted if you believe in fairy tales and true love and all that. Johnny was young, handsome, kind, and rich. He was Earl of Dunraven and far from letting his wrinkled old father diddle me, I would do anything to have my family lands back. There was something greater at stake here. Hundreds of years of tyranny and oppression, and all I had to do was bide my time. Such a little thing, really.
“I’m not asking you to wait, but…” He shook his head. He was so close now, his back to me, muscles rippling with tension through his shirt.
“What are you saying?”
He whirled around and cupped my face, pushing me back against the oak tree. He buried his hips into mine and kissed me hard. “Marry me.”
“But you just said—”
His eyes shone with fever and he hardened again against my belly. “Marry me. In secret.”
Good enough.
My skin tingled, and I had to strain to suppress the giddy laughter bubbling up my throat. Even if we couldn’t tell the world, Johnny would be legally obligated to fulfill his promises to me. I would be Lady of Dunraven and the land would be mine.
Forcing my shoulders to slump and pasting a somber look on my face, I stared down at the ground, studying the carpet of autumn leaves beneath my feet. “Johnny, that’s ridiculous. It will never work.”
“My father has a year. Two at most. I’ve heard what the doctors have said.” He brushed his thumbs against my cheekbones, pleading. “Please, Mary. I want you as my wife. No other woman will ever do for me.” His eyes darted to the ground and then back up to meet my gaze. “I love you.”
I smiled and threw my arms around his neck, relief and victory flooding through my veins. “I love you, too,” I whispered.
And I love Dunraven. More than you could ever imagine.
Chapter Two
I didn’t see Johnny for another week, until he passed me in the village and slipped a small note into my hands. He bowed, giving me a subtle wink before throwing his strong legs over his horse and galloping away.
As soon as I passed through the prying eyes of the village, I unfolded the paper.
Meet me at the stream. Midnight.
I smiled, crumbling the note in my hands and tearing it to bits. My heart fluttered in my chest, and I smiled up to the blank blue sky above. Johnny had somehow found a priest to marry us, and by midnight that night I would be the future Lady of Dunraven.
Later in the evening, I put on my best dress and fastened a dark hooded cloak around my neck. Careful not to fall and break my back climbing the trellis, I hit the ground running and bolted out of the gate into the black hills surrounding our cottage. I found Johnny standing by the stream, the lantern in his hand illuminating his face. Panting for breath, I looked around, searching in the shadows for a priest.
“Why have you called me here?” My voice sounded small in the darkness.
He stepped forward, his hand outstretched. “I must leave Dunraven tomorrow.”
I shrank back, my heart pounding. “Leave? But why?”
“I’m going to fight for England.”
I blinked hard, ice water racing through my veins. I pressed my hand against a tree, my nails tearing into
the rough bark. War meant fighting, and fighting meant almost certain death. And death meant…Dunraven would be lost to me forever.
“What does England have anything to do with you?” I rasped. “You never set foot in that blasted country!”
He put down the lantern in the grass and brushed against me, his hand grasping my shoulder. “I may have grown up in Ireland, but I am English, Mary. Lord Andrews’s son is going to fight, and I’m going with him.”
I wrenched away, pacing along the stream, fists clenched. I had never met Lord Andrews, but everyone knew he was a rake and a cad. He no doubt joined up for some bloody foolish romantic reason, and now he was pulling Johnny into this whole ridiculous affair.
I whirled around, seeking out his fingers and wrapping them in mine. “This isn’t your war.”
He raised his palms in the air. “But it is. I must go. I won’t have men think I’m a coward.”
“No one ever said you were. But I didn’t exactly take you for a fool, either.”
Not quite.
Johnny shook his head. “All the men in the neighborhood are leaving to fight. I must fulfill my duty to my country and kin.”
“Is this what it’s about? Proving your manhood?” My other hand danced on the seam of his trousers.
“My mind is made up.” He let out a deep, shuddering breath.
I dropped my hand. “But what about us? What about the promises you made?”
He tried to envelop me in his arms, but I sidled out of the way, a knot twisting in my stomach. None of this was going according to my plan.
He growled low in his throat. “When I return—”
“If you return! You’re likely to have a cannonball take off your head.”
“When I return,” he began again in a low voice, “we’ll marry. I swear it.”
“We were supposed to marry now!” I bit my lip, my voice harsh in my ears. Closing my eyes, I thought of Castle Dunraven, imagining myself mistress to the stone halls, the true manager of the lands and estate behind Johnny. This stupid war had thrown a wrench into my plans, but all wasn’t lost. I needed to make the best of things, and that meant making sure no matter what happened to Johnny, I would have Dunraven for my own.
I opened my eyes and placed my hand on his cheek, moving my thumb back and forth against his temple. Forcing a sympathetic smile, I made a low sound in my throat. “I’m sorry. You are so brave. Of course you must go.”
His lips brushed my fingertips, his long eyelashes creating dark shadows down his face. “I’ve brought you something.”
He reached into his pocket and kneeled down on one knee, clasping my hand in his. “I cannot give you a fine ceremony, not right now. But I can give you this.” He pulled out a ruby ring, the stone glinting blood red in the moonlight.
“Oh, Johnny,” I whispered.
“It has been passed down in my family for generations,” he said. “I want you to have it.”
In spite of the beauty of the ring, and in spite of the fact that it undoubtedly belonged to my Irish great-great-grandmother, I pushed his hand away. “You know I can’t accept it.”
He shook his head and, producing a long, thin chain, he ran the ring through it. Rising, he walked behind me, sweeping my hair from my neck before closing the delicate clasp. The ring fell, cold between my breasts, hidden away inside my bodice. “I want you to wear it until I return. Will you wait for me, Mary?”
I turned to face him, his strong hands spreading wide across my back. “Of course I will.”
He pulled me close against his body and planted a hot kiss on my mouth, his tongue darting wild between my teeth. A new plan formed in my mind, but it was risky and meant putting down the last chip I had on the table. I broke the kiss, gasping for air, my fingers curling tight against his cloak as he traced fierce kisses down the length of my neck and across my chest.
“Mary.” His voice sounded hoarse, and he swallowed hard as he ran his hand down the length of my waist. “Tell me you’ll be mine. I can’t leave you. Not without... Not without…”
He kissed me again, and I closed my eyes, my chest rising and falling with each pant of breath. Johnny was an honorable man. A bit dim, but honorable. If I gave myself to him fully, I might risk losing him and Dunraven forever. But if he was the man I knew him to be, he would never jilt a woman, not when she wore his grandmother’s ring. And if there was a child, I might even have a better chance at beholding him to his promise. It was not what I wanted, but with him leaving for war, it might be the best chance I had.
“Johnny,” I whispered. “I’ll need something in writing. Something that—”
“I’ve written a will!” A wide grin spread across his face, as if he were the cleverest man in all of Ireland. “A secret will. If something were to happen to me, it’s in a small box beneath the floorboards under my bed. I’ll take care of you, Mary. Everything I have is yours.” His hand pressed against the fold of my skirts. “I’ll always take care of you.”
My throat tightened, my skin tingling with the finality of his promise.
“Do you swear it?” I whispered.
He gripped my shoulders and stared down at me. “I swear it on my life.”
I threw my arms around his neck, kissing him hard. Undoing my cloak, Johnny let it pool to the ground in black folds of fabric. He grabbed my laces and undid them slowly, his fingers moving through the thin cords until they dangled behind me, my dress falling slack. With one firm tug, the fabric fell away, and I shivered in my shift, the cold autumn air cutting through the linen. I gasped as he pulled my hips against his, his cock hardening as he cupped my breasts.
“I want to touch every inch of your body tonight,” he whispered, peppering small kisses on my shoulders, his teeth nipping at the small muscles in my neck, releasing the tension of the previous week. “I want something of you to take with me.”
I grew slack in his arms, giving myself to the waves of heat pulsing through my body. I would be Johnny’s wife and one day I would be Lady Brighton. The very thought of it filled me with aching desire, and as Johnny’s hand inched up my thigh, I gasped with anticipation, my naked skin prickling. His hand slid down my bottom, pushing me against his length. I stood on my tiptoes, my thighs parting for him.
“Oh, Mary. You’re so beautiful.” With his other hand, he massaged my nipple until it grew hard, my breast swelling in his palm. I threw my head back, pushing them up into his grasp, and he bent down and sucked hard on the pink bead, the pressure forcing a small cry from my lips.
My hands scrambled for his shirt, threading my fingers through the crisp fabric and throwing it over his head. His chest rippled as I ran my fingers across his hard muscles, his abdomen contracting as my hand drifted down the trail of golden hair.
He cupped my face in his palm. “I’ve heard it hurts for girls, Mary. The first time.”
I kissed his ear, my tongue darting against his lobe and then up. “I’m not afraid, Johnny. My body belongs to you now.”
But the truth of it? I was terrified. With Johnny half naked before me, panting and shaking with a possessive desire, a loud buzzing sounded in my ears, and I clutched at my temple, willing it to disappear. I needed to think of something else. The flagstones in the great hall of Dunraven. The giant oaks that circled the property. Bloody wheat prices. Anything. But the chorus of peepers, the cascade of water in the stream, the swaying branches filled my head and overwhelmed me, and before I knew it, I lay naked on my cloak with Johnny’s body over mine. His cock pressed against my hip and then it slipped between my thighs. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath, preparing myself for the inevitable. It seemed impossible that something so large could fit into something so small, but I had to have him. I couldn’t go back now if I tried.
Johnny’s heart thundered in his chest, pounding against mine, his breath stilted and shuddering against my neck. He brushed my sweaty curls away from my forehead and stared into my eyes for a moment. “Are you ready, Mary?”
I nodded
. “Yes.”
Johnny paused and kissed me again, spreading my thighs wider. He positioned himself firm against my folds, the tip of his cock teasing the delicate flesh of my swollen opening. He pushed inside, and the pressure and pain snapped me out of my haze. My teeth dug into my lip, but I refused to cry out, refused to stop. We needed to become one. Dunraven would be mine.
“Do you want me to stop?” Johnny’s voice rasped in my ear, the tension in his body mounting. He held back, his desire like a building inferno in his hips, ready to explode. I dug my nails into his skin and braced myself.
“Do it,” I whispered. “Do it hard. All at once.”
Before I’d even finished my sentence Johnny thrust into me with all his masculine power. I bit into his shoulder, the pain radiating through me, my abdomen contracting in spasms of white hot fire. I kissed my teeth marks on his flesh, and he groaned, still for a moment, allowing the wave to pass.
“Oh, Mary, Mary…” He thrust again, this time even deeper and the pain regressed and turned to a dull ache as he rolled into me, again and again.
So that was what all the fuss was about. No longer a virgin, I didn’t feel any different, but I couldn’t help but feel I should have somehow. Everything I had done that summer had led up to this moment, but it had turned out to be quite a dull affair. Johnny’s body was a furnace, writhing and trembling with each exhalation. Letting out a long sigh, I tilted my face up to the night sky, the breath of the midnight chill off the river soothing and transporting me into a future as secure and predictable as the turn of the stars above us.
“I’ve dreamed of this, Mary,” Johnny whispered as he thrust hard into me again. He braced his strong arm above my shoulder, caging me in. “And now you’re mine.” He pushed deep. “Mine.” And deeper again, pumping his essence into me with a long, masculine groan. My body fractured, wet and open, receiving him. That was all a woman had to do, in the end. Be a vessel for men’s pleasure. For their heirs. It was a transaction like any other.
The Captain's Rebel (Irish Heroines) Page 2