After dark, when it was time for supper, Jack knocked on the door that adjoined their rooms. Dorothea finished buttoning her dress and called to him to come in.
He gave her half a smile, and Dorothea didn’t think she’d ever seen him more rugged. More dangerous. His cheek was bruised and his lower lip battered, but he had never been more handsome.
His hair was dark, and too long, but it was mostly combed back, all but one rebellious lock that fell over his forehead. He’d recently shaved, so his jaw was smooth, touchable. He wore shirtsleeves and carried his collar in his hand. His suspenders hung down and his khaki trousers rode low on his hips.
His expression was dark and dangerous, and Dorothea watched as a muscle in his jaw clenched. “Are you very hungry?”
She shook her head and devoured him with her eyes. “Not really.”
He walked toward her and tossed the collar onto the desk. “Would you consider postponing supper?”
“I could be persuaded,” she said, hiding her nervousness.
He came closer and touched a wisp of hair that curled in front of her ear. Bending down, Jack touched his tongue to the spot and Dorothea shivered with arousal. “What’s the key?”
“To persuading me?” she asked breathlessly.
“Mmm, hmm,” he said, pressing his lips to her forehead, her jaw, her neck.
He continued with his little kisses while Dorothea opened the first button on his shirt. Her fingers moved steadily down, inch by inch, revealing his strong, muscular chest. When she reached his trousers, she pulled the cotton shirt out and pushed it off his shoulders. Then she touched the brown, pebbled disks that were hidden under a mat of dark hair.
“This is the key,” she said, flicking her tongue over his nipple.
Jack’s breath caught, and he grabbed her upper arms while she licked and teased the sensitive spot. She knew it was sweet torture. She remembered it well.
“Did I tell you what a hero you are?” she asked.
“No,” Jack rasped. “Dorrie—”
“Kiss me, Jack,” she said and raised up on her toes to reach him.
He slid his arms around her and when he touched her lips with his own, a burst of fire shot through Dorothea. She ached for him, for his touch. This meeting of mouths and tongues was not enough and she pressed her body against his, desperate for more.
When Jack slipped his hands to the buttons at the front of her dress, Dorothea was certain he’d read her mind. He slid the gown off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Next, he worked on her corset laces, quickly freeing her from its confines.
“Jack….”
“You are so beautiful,” he said, removing her chemise. A moment later, she stood before him clad only in thin cotton drawers and stockings. He cupped her breasts in his hands and teased the tips with his thumbs, then with his lips and tongue. “I want you,” he said.
He picked her up and, taking her mouth with his, carried her to the bed. Gently setting her down, he stretched out beside her and pulled her to face him.
He made love to her mouth again, while his hands slid across her body, seeking the places that would give her the most pleasure. Dorothea sighed and began her own exploration, until they were both fully naked and Jack was poised above her.
His blue eyes had darkened with intensity, the planes of his face fierce with his passionate arousal. Though she was nervous, she did not fear him, did not wish to stop.
“I love you, Dorrie,” he said, pressing a kiss to her breastbone, then moving lower, caressing, tasting. “Marry me.”
Her eyes drifted closed, and she felt as if she were floating. Blood pooled low and hot and when his tongue touched her most sensitive place, her hips rocked in a spasm of such exquisite pleasure, she thought her heart—whole as it was—would burst.
The euphoria was both physical and spiritual, and it continued, even as Jack entered her, making her part of him. Him part of her. He drove into her again and again, and she wrapped her legs around him to hold him inside her, forever.
Finally, keeping his eyes locked with hers, he made a low sound and shuddered violently, even as he gathered her into his arms. “Dorrie,” he whispered in her ear.
She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down to her, rolling with him to the side. Emotion clogged her throat, preventing her from saying what was in her heart. She felt fulfilled in a way she’d never imagined, completed by this man who had so recently been a stranger to her.
Of course she would marry him. She had been renewed and made whole again. And Jack was a part of her. She loved him and trusted him with her life.
He trailed one finger across her collarbone, then down to one sensitive breast after the other. He touched her face and wrapped a tendril of her hair around his finger.
“Give me your answer, Dorrie Bright,” he said.
She nipped his earlobe lightly with her teeth. “Will you teach me everything there is to know about the sheela-na-gig?”
“Right after you learn a few lessons about the linga,” he said, his voice husky and full of love.
“In that case, I’m all yours, Jack Temple. Forever.”
ISBN: 978-1-4603-6050-7
SCOUNDREL’S DAUGHTER
Copyright © 2003 by Margo Wider
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