Lords of the Isles

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  Regan smiled. He was going to tear his shirt.

  “Let me help you,” she whispered.

  She paused. Once she began this, she didn’t wish to stop. Nothing could be in the way. “How long till we arrive at your home?”

  He blinked several times and drew in a deep breath. “Another twenty minutes.”

  Raising her hands to his shoulders, Regan slipped his coat off. “Will that be long enough?”

  Jack looked down at her, a wolfish smile curving his lips. “It will only be the beginning. But I promise it will be enough—” He caressed the curve of her breast with the back of his hand. “For now.”

  Just the thought of this going on and on, his body touching hers, filled Regan with desire. Her fingers fumbled at the buttons of his waistcoat as she unhooked them.

  Jack’s hands cupped and caressed her breasts as she worked at his shirt. Regan closed her eyes for a moment, uncertain if she could finish the simple task of loosening his clothes with his hands on her. She pulled his white shirt over his head.

  The white fabric dropped to the floor of the carriage and Regan stared at him in silence. He was so undeniably exquisite. His muscles flexed and tightened, creating ridges and valleys like she’d only seen on a Greek statue. And even those could not compare.

  Raw energy coursed beneath his skin, like liquid fire beneath shifting gold. Tentatively, she stretched out her hands and placed them on his stomach. His muscles tightened at her touch as he dug his hands into the seat cushion and his chest expanded in deep breaths.

  Fascinated by the movements of his hard body, Regan touched his abdomen and traced the six ridges of his stomach. His nipples, a duskier, almost earthy, color, tightened. Would he feel just as she did if… Regan leaned forward and slowly swirled her tongue over his nipple.

  He groaned and thrust his hands into her hair. Regan smiled to herself and placed kisses over his skin, pausing to nip and lick as he had done.

  Gently, he pulled her head back. “Enough,” he growled. “ ’Tis my turn.”

  Jack lowered his hand to her gown, pooled about her waist and slid it down her thighs. She could not look away from his eyes. The passion that pulsed in them penetrated straight to her heart.

  Jack ran his hands from her knees to her hips. The rough abrasion of his touch on her sensitive skin tore a moan from Regan’s lips. How could touch make anyone feel like this?

  His fingers slipped between her thighs. Regan’s breath stopped and the air around them seemed to thicken.

  With his free hand, he draped each of her arms over his shoulders. “Hold on to me.”

  Unable to do anything but, Regan gripped his shoulders. His fingers slid between her wet folds and stroked what had to be the center of her body. She opened her mouth and gasped for air.

  He stroked in slow circles, relentlessly touching the coiled tension beneath his thumb. She was so close. Regan tilted her hips towards his hands, needing just a little more. A little more.

  His fingers slowed and she moaned in protest. “Don’t stop, please.”

  He dropped his forehead against her shoulder, his silky hair tickling her skin. “When you come, Oi want to be inside you.”

  The heat of his breath warmed her breasts. She bit her lower lip. “And?”

  “Not here,” his breath came out in a hoarse rush.

  Not here? Because it was improper? “Why?”

  He moaned. “Because, a carriage shouldn’t be your first time. In a bed, Oi can take time. In a carriage, it’s hard and rough.”

  Regan could hardly believe it, but one of the reasons she loved Jack was that he was rough and hard. And that he treated her like a woman to be touched and driven wild, not like some possession to be preserved and controlled. “I don’t want you to take your time. I want you now.”

  As a growl of need ripped from his throat, he leaned into her. The carriage swayed and her breasts brushed his naked chest. The kiss she’d meant to be soft turned hot and wild. Regan slid her hands down his body and caught hold of the buttons that secured his trousers.

  Jack’s mouth stilled beneath hers, but before he could speak, Regan slipped the buttons free and his hard erection sprang free of the tight constrictions of his pants.

  Groaning, Jack grabbed for her hands. Regan broke their kiss and looked into his eyes. “Whatever you do, don’t stop this. I want you. Here. Like this.”

  A muscle in Jack’s throat tightened and his dark eyes widened with surprise and heat. “Whatever you wish.”

  Slowly, Jack lifted his hand to her breastbone, then dragged it down her stomach, through the curls between her legs. Stroking the slick spot, Jack slid two fingers inside of her.

  Regan opened her mouth and grabbed Jack’s shoulders. Her body tensed around his fingers. A tiny tear of pain shimmied through her then vanished under the intoxicating persuasion of his touch. She gasped air in short breaths. The hotness of his erection pressed against her thigh. Through the haze of pleasure, Regan gasped. “I want—”

  She dropped a hand and stroked the long, hard length of him.

  Jack locked eyes with her as the tip of his hard shaft caressed her where his thumb had just been, teasing her. Then, Jack placed his hands on the curve of her waist and lifted his hips in a smooth, single thrust.

  Regan hissed at his largeness. It felt wonderful, but at the same time, it was too much. She was too full.

  Jack raised one hand to the back of her neck. “We’re going to do this slowly.”

  Regan nodded, not sure what to do now that she had him.

  The rocking of the carriage and his slight lifting of his groin, urged her deeper onto his length. He moved his fingers in between their bodies, finding the spot that pleased her so much, promising it release.

  Regan began to sense the rhythm. She rocked against him as he stroked and moved within her.

  Suddenly, instead of too much, Jack’s hardness seemed perfect. She wanted more. The jostle of the carriage drove her harder down on his erection and a shot of pleasure squeezed her thighs against his.

  Jack growled, a wordless, animal sound. He moved a hand back to her hip then began thrusting, heating her body as he stroked her from within. And as Regan’s body brushed against his with each jolt of the carriage, she dug her fingers into his shoulders.

  “Look in my eyes,” he gritted. “Don’t close ’em.”

  Regan forced herself to meet his gaze as she slid up and down his length, her body moving in a hungry pace. Sweat broke in a light sheen over her body and she wanted to scream with how much she needed him.

  Wave after wave of intense pleasure rocked through her. Regan cried out, her hands gripping Jack’s shoulders like they were a lifeline. Her own passion reflected in his dark eyes. He tensed beneath her and a feral moan tore from his lips as his body shook and the hard planes of his face relaxed.

  Intense pleasure kept rippling through her body, starting from the place of their joining. As her body finally relaxed, she held on to him not wishing to let go.

  Jack brushed his fingers over the curve of her cheek and temple, then tilted her head for his kiss. His lips brushed hers in the softest of movements. As if she was the only person in the world. And at that moment, Regan knew she would never love anyone as fiercely as she loved Jack.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  There was no denying it. Regan was a sweet balm for the darkness of his life. He trailed his hands over her back and slipped them into the cool, thick folds of her red hair. And he drank in the details of her face; her almond-shaped eyes, high cheekbones, and slight creases between her brows that came from her constant thinking.

  For the first time in his life, he wanted to live without the darkness. He wanted the rare gift of a happy life. A life with Regan.

  Because, for the first time in his life, he felt he could let down barriers that he used to keep the world out, and let Regan in.

  The carriage wheels clattered over cobblestone, slowing. Damn. He wanted this ride to go on foreve
r. And he damned well didn’t want to let her go.

  Regan shifted against him and glanced towards the carriage door. “I—I think we’re stopping.”

  “So, we are.” He cupped her breasts in the palms of his hands, marveling at the perfect fit. Gently, he dragged his fingers over the soft skin.

  “We should dress.” A note of alarm tinted her husky voice.

  Being discovered nude by his footman would certainly dampen the evening. But he was not going to encase her beautiful body in a frock if he could help it. He lowered his head and licked the tip of her nipple, savoring the contrast of his tongue against her. “Not necessary.”

  Regan pushed softly at his shoulders. “I am certainly not prudish, but—”

  Jack smiled at her. No she wasn’t. She was on the road to being a wanton. The perfect woman for him. And he would give her every pleasure he knew. Everything he had.

  She blushed, the red of her cheeks rushing to the red of her hair at her temples. “Walking nude into your new home is not the way I should like to be seen by your servants.”

  He laughed. “I shouldn’t like my servants—especially my male servants, to see you nude.” He returned his attention to her breasts, swirled his tongue around a nipple, enjoying her muscles tensing beneath his hands.

  “So, I must dress,” she breathed.

  Jack lifted her hips from his. Her eyes widened as her body released him. He would have preferred to stay that way, firmly lodged between her thighs. But he would be there again soon. Within the half hour if he had his way. Because he was already hard again.

  She grabbed for the folds of her gown, but Jack stilled her hands gently with a touch of his fingers. He reached down and grabbed her cloak.

  The dark folds cascaded over her pale body. He pulled the folds closed, then grabbed his great coat, yanked it on, and tugged it closed.

  “Jack, really…” Regan looked down at her cloak, covering her as her fists gripped the edges together.

  He leaned forward and brushed her lips with his. “Trust me.”

  The footman opened the door and Jack climbed down. He reached for Regan and she slipped a single hand out from under the layers of fabric.

  Jack smiled at her then swept her from the top step of the carriage into his arms. She laughed in shock and grabbed at his neck with her free hand.

  Cradling her body tightly against his chest, he ensured she was totally covered then strode towards his house. God, he wanted to be inside her again. Surrounded by her welcoming heat.

  His front door swung open and Jack walked by his slack-jawed, balding butler without a word. He strode across the wide entry, his boots muffled by the dark wine Oriental rug. A clock chimed, filling the silence as he headed for the wide staircase at the back of the entry.

  Regan glanced right to left. “Your home—is so beautiful.”

  Jack squeezed her against him, glad that she noticed. It had taken him over a year to choose the Italian paintings and Irish crystal chandeliers that would make his home a jewel of the first water.

  “Not as beautiful as you,” he murmured.

  Regan’s blush deepened as he rushed up the stairs.

  “What will your servants think?” she whispered.

  He smiled down at her. “Since they don’t know you’re my wife yet, they’ll think you’re a woman of wicked ways.”

  Regan’s eyes twinkled and she stroked her fingertips over his lips. “That does sound most intriguing.”

  Jack bit back a groan and he went hard. No. Harder. Nibbling the tips of her fingers, Jack hurried to his room at the far end of the hall. He stopped in front of the door. Both his hands were full and the latch was solid. “Oh, hell.”

  A soft laugh escaped her lips. “Allow me, husband.”

  Regan reached out and turned the latch.

  Jack felt a possessive growl tug at the back of his throat. She was his wife. And he never wanted her to forget it. The panel swung open and Jack strode through then kicked it shut. He set Regan down on her feet, then locked the door. “Nothing is going to disturb me from ruining you during the next twenty-four hours.”

  “What about food?” she teased.

  Tossing his great coat to the floor in front of the crackling fire, Jack took her hand, and led her before the hearth. The heat seeped into his bones. But at that moment, he wanted a different heat. Her heat. Slowly, he ran his hands along her shoulders, then down to the place where the folds of her cloak met. “Are you hungry?”

  Flicking the folds open, Regan’s white skin stood out against the dark wool. The contrast of black and white shook him with eroticism.

  She nodded, her breasts rising up and down.

  “Hungry for this?” He caressed her breasts with his hands and circled his thumbs over her nipples. She leaned into him. Jack raked his hands up to her collar bones and tugged at the bow holding her cloak to her body. The thin strings of silk slipped loose and the fabric pooled at her feet.

  Firelight flickered over her pale body, shadowing the curves of her lush figure. The soft curve of her stomach descended into the curls at the apex of her legs, hiding her wet heat.

  Jack looked down her legs. His lips tilted in a smile. Her black carriage slippers were still on her feet.

  Regan’s fingers curled at her sides and she looked at him from lowered lashes. A soft sheen of red washed her skin. Jack brushed his fingertips over her abdomen.

  “Bloody beautiful.” The harshness of his cockney accent assaulted his ears, but he couldn’t help it. Couldn’t keep control of himself with her. He needed to be himself with her.

  “You are beautiful, too,” she said, as her fingers, feather light, traced the line of his muscles up towards his neck.

  Jack hissed as she touched the abrasions on his shoulder and lower neck. As she caressed his scars, it was like the cooling touch of balm. Helping to forget the pain that had caused them.

  Jack grasped her hands and slid them over his shoulders, until her forearms rested by his neck. Her body stretched out, causing her breasts to tighten. Jack ducked his head down and kissed her, taking her mouth with the intensity of a man who knew he could die in the next minute.

  He sucked her lower lip then pressed feather light kisses to her jaw. Slowly, he licked the line of her neck. Regan moaned as he kissed his way between her breasts. A smile of satisfaction tilted his lips and Jack glanced up into her wide, dazed eyes as he licked and nipped her abdomen.

  Slowly, Jack lowered himself to his knees. Regan grabbed on to his shoulders, leaning forward, and her long, red hair fell over his back, teasing his skin in tantalizing caresses. But he gently caressed her hips with his hands, keeping her standing as he knelt before her.

  He wanted to brand her with his body. To make her his and no one else’s. She was consuming him and he wanted to consume her with the same torturous desire. Jack ran his hands over her hips. He placed a kiss in the soft curls between her legs.

  “J-ack?” the question in her voice surrounded him.

  He tilted his face up, catching her blue eyes with his. “If you wish me to stop, Oi will.”

  She looked down at him, her fingers pressing into his shoulders. A flush of warmth stole up her cheeks and her lips parted. “I don’t wish you to stop.”

  Satisfaction shot through him as he brushed his thumbs along the line of her hips and thighs. She wanted him. She had married him.

  Regan teetered and grabbed hold of his back. “I want…”

  Her thighs tensed as he placed his hands between them and gently pushed them apart. Jack smiled, then tilted her hips towards his face and he ran his tongue along her hot, wet center.

  “Oh, G-god,” Regan gasped.

  A husky laugh rumbled from his throat. If she only knew what just the taste of her did to him. As if he didn’t want to yank her onto the floor and drive into her until all she could think about was him over her, in her, and around her. Jack licked, kissed, and circled his lips and tongue over and in her.

  Her
hands slid through his hair, pressing his head closer to her. Regan’s legs shook. But relentlessly, he held her to his mouth and circled his tongue.

  He pressed his hands into her bottom, keeping her firmly open to him. And with each touch of his tongue on her soft flesh, he wanted to hear her scream his name.

  Her body tensed against his and Jack stroked his hand along the outside of her thigh, wanting her to be as wild as he felt. She dug her hands into his hair and screamed, “Jack!”

  And he kept circling his tongue, until she shuddered from release. Her legs collapsed and Jack caught her in his arms, holding her close, their skin gently brushing against each other as he held her.

  He laid her on his cloak and slowly lowered himself on top of her. Regan grasped his back with her arms, pressing herself towards him.

  He needed her. Now. More than anything. Jack lowered his mouth to hers and at the moment his lips touched hers, he eased into her body, not wanting to hurt her.

  A moan tore from her throat. Jack planted his forearms on either side of her head. Each stroke inside her taunted him with wanting more. Regan locked her legs around his waist. As Jack increased each thrust, she arched up off the floor.

  Regan tightened her hold on him, caressing his back with her soft hands. Just when he was sure he couldn’t feel more pleasure, her muscles tightened around him and, for a moment, he saw white.

  His entire body tensed and he groaned. “Regan!”

  And all he could see was her. Only her as he came inside her. As he relaxed, she wrapped her arms around him. And strangely, he felt safe in her embrace. As if somehow she was protecting him.

  Jack rolled onto his back, pulling her into the curve of his arm. If he could, he would have nothing separating them. Not even their bodies. But for now, nothing could be closer to heaven than this.

  *

  Jack ran his fingers over Regan’s arm, savoring the sensation of her body pressed trustingly against his. Her hand rested just above his heart and her head brushed his chin as she snuggled closer in her sleep.

  How in the hell had he come to deserve her? Regan filled his heart in a way he’d never known, but a corner of it was still possessed. Owned by demons. Owned by his past.