“Madam,” he said, taking the stick out of his mouth, “I will never be ready for you to cut into me. However, I am resigned.”
He replaced the stick and bit down hard.
With surprisingly steady hands despite her fear, Jane sliced into his thigh. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him clench the stick with his jaw, but he didn’t make a sound. She probed for the bullet, praying she’d find it quickly and in one piece. After an agonizingly long moment, her knife connected with metal and she was able to withdraw it. The bullet was whole. She breathed a sigh of relief, then picked up the needle and began to sew.
He removed the stick from his mouth.
“I hope you’re sewing the wound expeditiously and not creating an embroidery pattern as if amusing yourself on a winter’s day.”
She smiled at his admirable attempt at humor, given the considerable pain he must be feeling. “Alas, Lord Edward, I’ve left my embroidery threads at home. But if you were to ever find me on a winter’s day, I would gladly stick a needle in your leg and make any design you wish.”
“Why, Miss Johnston, I believe you’ve made a jest. It is the second greatest miracle to occur today, after my having survived your surgery.”
Three hours later, she wiped his brow as he fitfully slept. A light fever had set in and she prayed it wouldn’t worsen. More men died from fever and disease than from the bullets, swords and shells of Napoleon’s army.
She’d learned a great deal during the month she’d tended the wounded. A month her grandfather believed was being spent socializing with the families of London who thought it would be great fun to come to Belgium to witness Napoleon’s defeat. She certainly had no love of war, but it had taught her more about medicine than anything she’d ever learned from her father, and he’d been a most exemplary surgeon.
She also knew it’d be impossible to become a surgeon yet remain a lady in the eyes of the ton. But ever since she’d been a girl, she’d been drawn to helping the ill. When the tenant farmers on her family’s estate had become sick or injured, Jane had always accompanied her father on his visits. If her parents were still alive, they would be doing what they could to help her skirt the rules of society that they themselves had never had much use for.
But as it was, she had only her grandfather and his opposition had been firmly stated.
The man lying next to her didn’t seem like the brother of a duke, and it wasn’t just the fact he was here on the front line of battle. There were many second sons of the nobility who fought for England, but most of them spent their time far from danger. This man, this spy, had placed his life in real danger. And the fact he did it as a spy, which would be looked down upon by his peers, made Jane accord him her grudging respect.
He was also unlike a nobleman in his build. He didn’t need padding to fill out his clothing, like so many of the society bucks and dandies. He was leanly muscled all over. Not that Jane was noticing as a woman might judge a man. She looked at him with the dispassionate eyes of a medical professional. But when she’d examined his thigh for injury, she’d made a note to herself that any future drawings she might make on the anatomical male should be based on Lord Edward.
* * *
Ned woke up to darkness inside the cave and out. His head was considerably better than it had been earlier and the pain in his thigh had subsided into a dull ache. There was, however, pressure on his chest. A rather pleasant pressure, caused by Miss Johnston sleeping with her head on it.
Her hair was billowed out in all directions. He picked up a strand. It smelled like lavender water and he idly wondered how she’d managed to come across some in a war zone. Probably a gift from one of her admirers. She undoubtedly had many. Maybe even a protector. The thought made him scowl.
Ned took an inventory of himself. There seemed to be no new injuries from the fight. He was pleased to see he was clean, but surprised to learn he was missing most of his clothing. He was still wearing his breeches, although the right leg had been cut nearly to the top of his thigh to allow access to his wound. His boots were still on, but his shirt and jacket were neatly folded a few feet away.
Unfortunately, Miss Johnston was still clothed, but he was determined to do something about that. He was, after all, feeling quite a bit better.
As if sensing his innermost wishes, Miss Johnston – Iris, was it? – stirred. She lifted her head and gazed at him. Her long beautiful hair was thoroughly tousled and her half-lidded eyes looked sated. He didn’t have to use any imagination to picture how she’d look the morning after a full night of lovemaking.
“How long have I been unconscious?” he asked, fighting the urge to kiss her.
“More than twelve hours. Your fever climbed rapidly during the late afternoon, but thankfully, you came through it.”
“Thanks to you and your care.” He stroked her back, and she shivered, which sent yet another surge of lust to his groin, when surely more was not needed.
“Thank you for saving me yesterday,” she said, her voice suddenly deeper and her mouth quite dry.
“You’re welcome, Iris.”
Something flashed in her eyes, then she rose from him. He reluctantly let her go.
“You must be thirsty. I’ve been giving you as much water as possible, but you weren’t always a good patient.”
“My apologies. But apparently I was cooperative enough to allow you to remove most of my clothing.”
It was hard to tell in the darkness of the cave, but it seemed like she blushed. An odd reaction for a woman of experience. Could he be wrong about her?
“Why did you come to Belgium?” he asked.
“I came to nurse the men and serve my king and country.” His surprise must have been evident, because she continued on. “Do you think only men are capable of patriotism?”
“Of course not. But I know few ladies who’d go to such extremes.”
“Why do you think I’m a lady?”
Ned knew he had to tread carefully here. “Your speech, your use of French.”
“A parrot can learn to talk like a lady and probably speaks French with a better accent than I. It took those men no time at all to realize I wasn’t a native speaker.” She shivered from the memory. “If you hadn’t come along…”
“If I hadn’t come along, you would’ve coshed the one senseless with a rock, then forced the other to drink water brimming with…what did you call it, agents of disease?”
“Spirits of disease.”
“Of course. Do you have any of that Scots whiskey left?”
“You needn’t worry about cleaning your wounds. I believe you’re well on the way to recovery.”
“While that is good news, indeed, I had another purpose in mind. Would you join me in a drink of your most excellent whiskey?”
“I should really save it for medicinal purposes.”
“But we’re leaving in the morning and I think we should do something to celebrate our survival up to this point. Just one drink?”
Against her better judgment, Jane handed him the bottle.
“And for yourself?”
“I don’t wish to have any.”
“Miss Johnston, how are we going to celebrate if only one of us is drinking? Here, take a sip.”
He handed her the bottle and she drank. She immediately began to sputter.
He patted her on the back. “Sounds like the spirits of disease are fighting back.”
“I’m simply unaccustomed to drinking whiskey.”
“I’ll see what can be done to remedy that. Tell me about your family.”
There was that flash in her eyes again. What was she hiding?
“There’s not much to tell, really.”
“Who are your connections? I haven’t gone much into society since I only just finished my studies at Cambridge. Would my brother know your family?”
Yes, his brother the duke would most certainly know the earl. And then he’d tell him exactly what she’d been doing this past month. Grandfather woul
d put her under lock and key, then keep her there until he could arrange a nice boring marriage.
“I’m a widow. From Shropshire. My late husband and I operated an inn there.” Jane was dismayed by how easily the lies flowed from her.
A widow. Ned couldn’t believe his luck. He might not have followed his instincts if the delightful Iris with the golden hair and lovely eyes had been a gently-bred miss, but a widow from Shropshire and whatever else she’d been talking about – he’d stopped listening after he heard the word “widow” – was fair game.
It’d been months since Ned had last been with a woman. He was already hard and began to fear he’d disgrace himself before he got the chance to touch her. His only hope was that the pain in his leg would delay things just enough that he could put in a decent showing. But the more he watched her lips as she spoke, the less he counted on it.
He leaned in and kissed her.
He was met with some initial hesitation, but as he licked the seam of her lips, she opened them in surprise and then there was no stopping him. He invaded her mouth with the confidence of a true rake of the ton. But as he stroked his tongue against hers, Ned was hit with the strongest surge of desire he could ever remember. He pulled her to him, then rolled her beneath, continuing the kiss. He moved his lips to her neck and felt her shiver. A good sign. As he continued kissing her, his hand came up and cupped a breast.
* * *
Jane couldn’t believe the touch of his hand on her breast could be felt throughout her entire body. It was scandalous. And it felt much too good to stop.
She was far removed from her comfort zone. She’d been kissed twice before, but they’d been simple pecks on the cheek, although one had come within an inch of her mouth. But nothing had prepared for her this. There was no explaining the effects his caresses had on her body. The body that supposedly belonged to a widow whose late husband would have touched her just this way. Could that be true? Could anyone be touched like this, caressed like this, then simply return to day-to-day living?
Jane was afraid all her lies would soon be exposed because she hadn’t the faintest idea how to respond to what he was doing. She was mortified to hear herself moan, although it didn’t seem to put him off in any way. He actually seemed to like the noises she made and he was even making some himself. In exactly three minutes she was going to push him away and tell him she wasn’t the type of widow to frolic on cave floors. Even though she apparently was. But during those three minutes, she wanted to touch him. She wanted that very much.
So she tentatively placed her hand on his bare chest and began to explore.
Ned continued to lose himself more and more. He unbuttoned her shirt, then brushed his thumb over her pebbled nipple. As she let out a gasp, he rolled it between his fingers. Her hand on him was driving him wild. She seemed fascinated with the feel of his bare chest. She moved her hand over his nipples, then down toward the fastenings to his breeches. But just as she got close enough to touch his bulging cock, she moved her hand back up his body. Vixen.
This would truly be a night to remember.
He moved his lips down her neck and across her collar bone. As he pulled off her shirt, he kissed his way down her chest to the top of her straining breasts. He found her nipple and suckled.
Jane arched several inches off the ground. A scream came from somewhere in the vicinity of her throat. Never in her life had she felt such extreme pleasure. She knew she should stop him, because the three minutes were clearly up and no good could come of such wickedness, but how could she stop him when she’d lost the ability to speak?
Plus, the feel of his bare chest filled her with warmth from her too tight breasts all the way to her toes, with special emphasis between her legs. She knew a proper lady shouldn’t touch a man in this way, but she needed this experience for scientific reasons.
She suddenly felt cold air on her legs and realized he’d unbuttoned her breeches and was pulling them down her legs. She felt his fingers brush lightly against her curls, while he suckled her nipple. She moaned and bucked.
“Easy, sweetheart,” said Ned with a chuckle. He’d never before touched a woman who was so responsive. And he’d never responded to a woman the way he did to Iris. His cock was rock hard. If she moaned again, lovemaking would come to a tragic, premature end.
As he touched her, her legs fell open. Her eyes were closed and her head was rolling back and forth. She reached for his breeches, and he held his breath. He slid one finger into her incredibly tight sheath just as she rubbed his cock. He almost exploded.
He reluctantly withdrew his finger from inside her, and was met with a moan of displeasure. His lovely widow had been too long without a man.
He pulled off her breeches and boots and the view which met his eyes was breathtaking. Firm, rounded breasts. A taut stomach and legs that went on for miles. The curls between her legs glistened from the moisture he’d felt there. She was wet and ready for him.
Jane had never been naked in front of a man before. She should be shy. She should cover herself immediately. But the heat of his gaze made her only want to go further.
Because of her vocation, she would never marry. And tonight she wanted to experience the act of lovemaking with this man. She knew it was an irrevocable decision, but this was what she wanted. What she needed.
“You,” she said with dry lips. “You still have clothes on.”
He smiled at her, then stood and slowly removed his boots and breeches.
Jane was stunned. As she’d tended to him during the past several hours, she’d had a glimpse of a bulge, but it was nothing like this. This was magnificent. Huge and almost certainly too big for her. All of the sudden she was terribly unsure of what she was doing. Iris the widow was about to be exposed as Jane the virgin.
But then he lay on top of her again, took her face between his hands and began to kiss her. Gently at first, but then he deepened the kiss, stoked the fires. He spread her legs and placed himself between them. He stroked her curls. He inserted a finger inside her, while his thumb rubbed against her hooded button. Slowly, he increased his movements, as she grew hotter and hotter. She wanted something, but didn’t know quite what.
Just as she thought she could stand it no longer, he withdrew his hand. When she protested, he kissed her, then pressed his cock against her and slowly pressed in.
All at once, the reality of what she was doing hit Jane full force. The pressure of his very hard, very large cock was uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. She’d heard the first time was painful. No one told her there was a possibility she’d be cleaved in two, but that’s what this felt like.
* * *
She must’ve been widowed for quite some time, thought Ned as he pressed into the tight channel. He pressed a bit further in and was thankful he’d had the foresight to go slowly. She was tight to an unprecedented degree. Just how small had this innkeeper husband of hers been?
Then he got his answer, as he butted up against her maidenhead. Stunned, he looked down into eyes widened with fright.
“You’re a virgin!”
“No, I’m not,” she said with a grimace. And even though she was in a considerable amount of pain, she didn’t want to stop. This could be her only chance to see what the fuss was about. Fuss she currently felt was considerably overrated.
“Madam, this is not the time for debate. I have found irrefutable evidence that you are.” Damn! This was not the ending he wanted for the night. But he slowly began to withdraw.
“Wait!”
He stopped, hoping for a reprieve.
“Please. I want you to do this.”
“You’re a virgin.”
She bit her lower lip. He grew harder.
“I know I don’t know what I’m doing, but if you could only explain things, I’m sure I could make this enjoyable for you,” she said
Ned would’ve laughed, if he could have.
“Trust me when I say my enjoyment is not in question. But there are certain rules I
live by.”
“Please.”
“It’s not open to debate.”
He began to withdraw again. Jane wrapped her legs around him, then pulled him toward her, while lifting her pelvis.
That did it. He couldn’t hold back.
Ned thrust deeply into her and Jane felt a searing pain. He halted when she winced.
Jane wasn’t sure what was happening to him, because he wasn’t moving and his jaw was clenched so hard she thought it might break. She looked up at him.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Was he all right? His rigid cock was sheathed in a velvet fist. If he moved, he was afraid he’d hurt her – he’d felt her flinch when he entered her fully, thanks to those incredibly long and strong legs wrapped around him. If he moved, he was afraid it’d be over all too soon. If he even thought about the incredible woman beneath him, he was afraid he wouldn’t last. So he waited for her to relax and for himself to regain some control.
He moved his hand between them and began to stoke the nub of her flesh. Instantly, she reacted to his touch.
“Look at me,” he said, realizing he’d never said that to another woman in this position. He was a generous lover, but never one to become emotionally involved. But for some reason he needed to see her when she came. And she was going to come. He’d make sure of it.
He began to slowly move in and out. After a moment, she caught the rhythm and moved with him. She was so tight, he knew he couldn’t last long. She was nearing the edge. He hoped he could take her over. She looked up at him then said “Edward!” as she climaxed.
Her contractions brought on his. She milked his cock dry. His climax was long, intense and one of the most powerful he’d ever experienced.
* * *
Jane couldn’t believe what she’d just done. She couldn’t believe there were physical sensations and emotions like she’d just experienced. She stopped herself. There were no emotions in what had just occurred. It had simply been a physiological response to stimuli.
But what a response.
He pulled out and was silent for so long, Jane thought he’d fallen asleep.
Never a Mistress, No Longer a Maid (Kellington Book One) Page 2