No wonder people became drunkards.
Annabelle almost giggled aloud at the thought as she basked in the dizzying delight of Jack’s embrace and the tipsy thrill of their kiss. She hoped it would be the first of many.
Earlier in the evening, she had experienced the buoyant haze of inebriation for the first time. It had been like a magic potion, easing her anxiety and lifting her on airy bubbles of confidence. She could dance or jest or flirt like the grandest of ladies rather than a penniless widow. A widow who had married far above her station and brought nothing but disappointment to the man who had made the mistake of loving her.
The old duke’s disgusting proposition had flattened all those lovely bubbles, bringing her crashing down to the cold, hard ground of reality. Worse yet, the drink had weakened her reason and composure, making her react more intensely to the insult. It had been everything she could do to keep from blubbering like a ninny.
But Jack’s fierce indignation on her behalf had soothed her humiliation and restored some of her shattered confidence. His nearness was every bit as intoxicating as the punch she’d consumed. The temptation to touch him grew impossible to resist. She ran her hand over his chest, wishing her glove and his shirt would somehow disappear. She longed for the provocative friction of her bare flesh against his. And not only the flesh of her hand...
When he did not discourage her forwardness but actually seemed to welcome it, she could not guard her tongue a moment longer. The first of many long-kept secrets spilled out... a confession of how much she wanted him.
That revelation did not bring down a lightning bolt of retribution as she had secretly feared. Instead it brought a delectable morsel to ease her hunger, even as it whetted her appetite for more. She immersed herself in his kiss, all of her senses attuned to him alone. His lips and tongue played over hers, rousing a host of delectable sensations. The clamor of her thoughts fell silent and her body seemed to function on raw instinct. Her only aim was to draw as near to Jack as she could and do anything that might bring them both pleasure.
Only when he tensed and pulled away did she realize the carriage had stopped. Jack muttered something under his breath that might have been a fierce oath. Annabelle wanted to echo it. How could she bear to have her desires so intensely stirred only to be thwarted?
After Jack helped her from the carriage, she clung to him as they entered his townhouse. He whisked her through the drawing room, past the dining room and up the stairs. Her heart thundered with anticipation.
But when he strode past his bedroom door, her feet froze, making her stumble. “Where are you taking me?”
“To your room, of course.” He sounded almost angry.
Had she somehow misinterpreted his attentions in the carriage?
“I will get Polly to help you undress,” he continued briskly, “and put you to bed for the night.”
As she removed her gloves and hat, Annabelle shook her head, so there could be no doubt of her opposition. “There is only one person I want to undress me tonight, and that is you, Jack Warwick.”
His earlier response to her admission of desire now emboldened her to demand what she wanted for the first time she could remember. Ever since being sent to live with her aunt after the death of her parents, she’d been dependent on the charity of others—taking only what they could spare and trying to be grateful. She had come to accept their slights and unkindness as her lot. Only Jack had made her feel she deserved to have what she wanted... except when it came to him.
“Please do not say that Annabelle,” he begged, threatening to revive memories of the day he’d broken her heart.
“Why not?” She raised her bare hand to cup his cheek. Her touch had worked earlier, breaking down the barriers he erected to prevent her from getting too close. “You told me you know how to bring a woman pleasure. Perhaps you should demonstrate your skill.”
“That is the punch talking.” Jack covered her caressing hand with his and tried to move it away, but he could not seem to exert the necessary force. “I am having enough trouble resisting the temptation to take advantage of your condition. I do not need you adding fuel to the fire.”
“Are you saying I make you burn?” She gave a low, sensuous chuckle and pressed herself against him. “Well that is only fair since I have burned for you a very long time. I once thought it might sear the heart of me.”
“Now you are not making any sense.” Once again Jack seemed determined not to understand what she had struggled to tell him for so long. “You need to go to bed, Annabelle.”
His reaction to her overtures reminded her of the evening she had told him of Frederick’s proposal. On that occasion her fear of losing his friendship had prevented her from making her feelings altogether clear. Tonight Lord Cheviot’s punch gave her courage while Jack’s admission of desire gave her hope that he could like her and love her.
Allowing her heart to be ruled by fear had not brought her the safety and contentment she’d been willing to settle for instead of real happiness. Perhaps there could be no half measures when it came to love. Like a reckless gambler, one must risk everything to have any chance of winning. Much as the possibility of losing everything terrified her, it also brought a strange rush of exhilaration as well. Was this what had kept Jack and his friends going back to the tables again and again—not the hope of a great win, but simply the thrill of such a risk?
When he tried to lead her toward her bedroom door, she locked her arms around his neck and refused to release him. “If we part now, still smoldering, we may burn your house down. Would it not be better to quench the fire first?”
Jack opened his mouth, perhaps to protest. But before he could utter a word, Annabelle surged up to silence him with a kiss. The one they had shared in the carriage still tingled on her lips like a delectable aperitif, whetting her thirst for more.
Clearly it must have done the same for him. He did not resist her kiss, as he had her verbal entreaties, but surrendered unconditionally. His arms tightened around her and his lips pressed against hers with thrilling ardor.
His breath hissed over her face like a hot wind. As her bosom pressed against his chest, she could feel his heart galloping even faster than hers. It left her in no doubt that Jack wanted her every bit as much as she wanted him.
And love? That would come once they were married and he felt secure enough in her devotion to unlock his heart. Little Sarah had already found a way past his stout defenses. Surely the children Annabelle bore him would too, leaving the way open for her. Until then, she could be content with the thrill of passion and the warmth of affectionate companionship.
After their long, deep, hungry kiss, Jack drew back to gasp for air.
Annabelle took the opportunity to whisper, “I may be a little tipsy, but it is as much from your kisses as from the punch. It is not making me say or do anything I would not care to otherwise. It has only made me brave enough to behave as I wish, rather than how I think I should.”
Jack gave a throaty chuckle. “Don’t you mean to misbehave as you wish?”
Had she persuaded him to take her to his bed? Success made Annabelle as dizzy as the duke’s potent punch. “That is exactly what I mean. Now, are we going to linger about misbehaving in the hallway where we might be interrupted? Or are we going to retire to somewhere more private?”
“That depends,” Jack replied in a melting murmur. “Will you marry me?”
Would he stop if she refused? Annabelle feared she might burst into flames if he did. Besides, she had already made up her mind to accept him. “Is that the price you demand for a night of delight? I believe you have it backward. Aren’t rakes supposed to promise women marriage to lure them into bed, not the other way around?”
“Perhaps.” With a sudden movement, Jack hoisted her into his arms. Annabelle barely stifled a squeal of surprise. He strode to his bedroom door, flung it open and whisked her over the threshold. “But what does it matter as long as we both get what we want in the end?�
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Chapter Fourteen
JACK CARRIED ANNABELLE into his bedchamber then pushed the door shut behind them with his foot. He hoped to shut all of his doubts outside, but one or two stole in on his heels.
He’d accused Annabelle of acting so provocatively toward him because she’d had too much to drink. Was that also why he had chosen to bed her before they were married? His conscience protested that it was wrong to treat Frederick’s widow like a passing conquest. He had already damaged her reputation by bringing her to live under his roof. Bringing her into his bed only confirmed what gossip believed he had been doing all along.
The situation reminded Jack of his boyhood when everyone believed the worst about him. Back then, he had decided he might as well live up to his bad reputation. But there was one great difference. No one else had been harmed by his youthful indiscretions.
His doubts nagged and his conscience warned in vain. When Annabelle offered him her lips and so much more, every other thought in his head was drowned out by the urgent roar of desire. If the Duke’s punch had played a part in bringing them together like this, he owed the ugly old lecher a vote of thanks.
A single candle flickered on his bedroom mantelpiece, providing enough light for Jack to find his way, but not enough to let the glare of propriety shatter the intimacy of their stolen tryst.
Sinking onto the edge of the bed with Annabelle on his lap, Jack kissed her again. He tried to proceed slowly, savoring every moment and movement. But his desire for her had been burning on a long, slow fuse ever since the night he’d first begged for her help with the baby. He’d tried to snuff it out, but nothing had worked for long. Now his passion crackled toward its inevitable explosion.
Perhaps because he had waited so long between first desire and consummation, making love to Annabelle felt fresh and new, quite unlike any of his past liaisons. She’d done so much to give his life a sense of purpose and connection it had lacked. He was determined to repay her with a night of the most exquisite pleasure, which he hoped to repeat often in the years to come.
Once he had temporarily sated himself on the nectar of her lips, he strayed further afield in search of other delights, to her cheeks, her eyelids and the tip of her nose. He savored the subtle differences in the contours of her flesh and the texture of her skin. Meanwhile, his hands undertook their own voyage of discovery, caressing her slender neck and graceful shoulders, traveling toward the ripe fullness of her breasts. Ever since the day he’d glimpsed them through her wet, clinging bodice, Jack had longed to cup them in his palms, stroke them with his fingertips and tease the sensitive pink crests until they strained to firm peaks, pleading for the attention of his mouth.
Annabelle did not sit passively and let him have his way. When he strewed kisses over her face, she cast her hat and gloves to the floor and reciprocated with ardor that felt eager yet strangely innocent. Her hands ranged over him, through his hair, over his shoulders and chest. Her touch communicated admiration, even fascination. What was it she had said about burning for him a long time? Did she mean only since coming to Bruton Street?
That question melted from his mind when Annabelle tugged his neck linen loose and fumbled open some buttons to thrust her hand beneath his shirt. She proceeded to caress his bare chest the way she had during the carriage ride home. Stimulating as her previous attentions had been, the play of her warm, soft fingertips over his naked flesh was a hundredfold more so.
Bolts of pleasure shot through his body, hot and potent as lightning. His shaft strained against her deliciously rounded bottom, pushing his control to the very brink. A low, feral growl of yearning rumbled through his chest and rose in his throat. If he let Annabelle have her way with him much longer, Jack feared his passion might be spent before he could satisfy the desire he intended to coax in her.
With a swift, predatory movement, he tossed Annabelle onto the bed then moved to hover over her. She gave a squeal of surprise that muted into a ripple of delighted laughter. Jack ravished her neck and shoulders with his lips as he tugged down her sleeves. Then he nudged the neckline of her gown lower and lower to expose her breasts.
“They are even more magnificent than I imagined.” He whispered as he stroked their rounded fullness with his cheek.
When he closed his lips over one straining nub and lavished it with the wet caress of his tongue, Annabelle gave a soft gasp and arched her body beneath him.
For a time, she gave herself up to the pleasure of his tongue flicking over the sensitive crest, while his hands savored the fullness of her other bosom with barely restrained passion. Eventually she pulled her arms free from the silken restraint of her sleeves. Liberated at last, her hands flew up to tug at his hair and his coat.
Only then did Jack realize it was not desire alone that heated him. Briefly diverted from the wondrous enjoyment of Annabelle’s breasts, he tore off his coat and waistcoat, not caring if all the buttons popped. Hurling the garments away, he clawed off his cravat and wriggled out of his shirt.
“That’s better,” he sighed, as the night air cooled his skin.
Running her hands over his naked torso, Annabelle gave a wanton chuckle. “Indeed it is.”
“Shall we make it better still, for both of us?” Jack flashed her a wicked grin. “Before your pretty gown ends up rumpled beyond repair.”
“That is very thoughtful of you.” A glint of mischief twinkled in Annabelle’s eyes, like nothing he had seen from her before. Was it the duke’s potent punch or some trick of the candlelight?
He moved away from her long enough to shed the rest of his clothes while she squirmed out of hers.
When she had finished, she handed him her gown. “I fear it may be too late for the poor thing.”
Jack draped the garment over a nearby armchair. “The moment I saw you wearing this, all I could think of was how much I wanted to get you out of it.”
Again Annabelle chuckled. “You managed to conceal your admiration quite well.”
“If I did, it is only because I suspected that rascal Rory was thinking the same thing and I could not abide it.” He relished their bantering exchange. It gave him a few moments to bolster the self-control Annabelle tested so severely. It also reassured him that friends might become lovers without losing their special camaraderie. Indeed, each connection might enrich the other.
He turned back toward the bed to find that Annabelle had folded the blankets down. She had not slid beneath them to hide her naked beauty in a fit of modesty. Instead, she lounged back upon his pillows in an attitude of sensuous relaxation, like a provocative nude in an Italian painting.
Her gaze rested on his loins with a mixture of amusement and triumph at the evidence of his arousal. She held out her arms to him in an invitation he scarcely needed and could not resist.
He flew at once to her embrace, writhing in delight as his bare skin slid over hers, creating the most arousing friction.
Had he ever wanted a woman the way he wanted her? At that moment, Jack could scarcely recall there had ever been any other women for him before Annabelle.
So this was how it was supposed to feel when a man and woman consummated their intense attraction to one another.
Annabelle savored every sensation as Jack made love to her with boyish eagerness and mature skill. Frederick had tried to rouse her and please her, but she had always been so ashamed that a man other than her husband came first in her heart. She had not dared let down her guard and surrender to passion, even if Frederick had been able to ignite it. She’d always feared that in an unguarded moment it might be his cousin’s name she would call out.
Tonight that fear was banished. She was where she’d wanted to be ever since she experienced the first tentative stirrings of womanhood. She only hoped she was capable of bringing Jack greater satisfaction than she brought his cousin. He had long been a connoisseur of beautiful, desirable women. Would he compare her with them and find her lacking?
Fortunately the blissful sensation of his sm
ooth skin gliding over hers pushed all doubts and regrets from Annabelle’s mind. Every point of contact between their naked bodies sent shards of pleasure slicing through her, all aimed between her legs. Her passage tingled with pleasure and ached for Jack to enter and fill her.
Lying beside her, he kissed her hungrily with deep, thrilling thrusts of his tongue, a foretaste of what would come later. One large, strong hand played over her naked body as if it were a priceless instrument, perfectly tuned to his touch. What complex, stimulating harmonies of sensation, he provoked in her! Annabelle let them wash over and through her, creating a satisfying resonance between her body and her heart.
He slid his hand further down to caress her thigh, coaxing a soft moan from her. Then his hand ranged upward with the subtlest pressure, inviting her to open to him. Annabelle was only too eager to accept that invitation. She expected he would enter her and take his pleasure. But instead he probed gently with his forefinger to prime the sultry moisture of her desire.
Slick with her juices, his fingertip flicked over the aching nub of her need. A jolt of delight coursed through her body, as intense as it was unexpected. It lifted her hips off the bed and wrung a soft cry from her lips.
“You see?” Jack gave a deep chuckle of satisfaction. “When I promised I would bring you pleasure, it was not an idle boast.”
“Q-quite the contrary,” she replied in a breathless whisper. “I would call it... an understatement.”
“Would you?” He rewarded her with a teasing kiss. “Then I must warn you there is better still to come.”
For a moment she was too addled with pleasure to reply, then she chuckled. “Now you must be boasting. I cannot believe what you claim is possible.”
“Is that a challenge?” Jack inquired in a wicked purr. “Then I shall be obliged to prove myself.”
He began to toy with her breasts again until she felt the hot, sweet stirring begin to build within her once more. This time it was not enough to give herself up to it passively. She had already touched him a little and his response had assured Annabelle that her attentions brought him pleasure. So she let her hands rove at will through his hair then down his neck to acquaint herself with the breadth of his shoulders and the firm undulations of his chest.
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