by Connie Mason
An unknown space of time passed. Seconds, perhaps minutes; she did not know. But when awareness slowly returned, Moira found herself stretched full length atop Jack, her legs lying between his outstretched limbs, her cheek resting against his bare chest. They were still joined, but she could feel him slowly receding. When she tried to rise, he held her firmly in place.
“Go to sleep, Moira. I need time to think about what happened between us tonight. I never expected to find a virgin in my bed. I don’t know why you lied, but I intend to get to the bottom of it.”
Moira heard nothing past “go to sleep.” Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she slid effortlessly into sleep. Jack heard her even breathing and sighed, frustration keeping his own slumber at bay. Shock was too mild a word to describe how he felt when he discovered that Moira was a virgin. There was simply no feasible explanation for her lie. What did she hope to gain by letting him think she was a woman of questionable virtue? There was a mystery here somewhere, and he hated mysteries, especially ones he couldn’t solve. He had treated Moira like a whore, and she had no one to blame but herself.
But even as the thought formed in his mind, his arms pulled her closer, strangely reluctant to admit how good she felt in his arms, how wonderfully well her supple body had pleased him, how extraordinarily beautiful she looked sleeping on his chest. Just then the candles sputtered and went out one by one, plunging the room into darkness. Jack realized the fire in the grate had burned to gray ash, adding to the impenetrable gloom. Carefully shifting Moira onto the bed, Jack pulled the blanket over her and started to rise in order to rekindle the fire.
His feet had barely touched the floor when a hazy light formed near the door. He lay back on the bed and looked away. When he returned his gaze to the light, it had intensified. Jack groaned aloud as an inner brilliance within the light took shape.
Lady Amelia.
“Good evening, milady,” Jack said dryly as he hastily pulled the blanket over his naked loins. “To what do I owe the pleasure tonight?”
Lady Amelia floated closer. She appeared to be frowning, if that was possible. With slow deliberation, she lifted one arm and pointed a bony finger at Moira.
Jack turned and gazed at Moira, still sleeping soundly and looking like an innocent child. “I know what you’re thinking,” Jack said, speaking low so as not to awaken Moira. “I warned you I was beyond help. Aye, I seduced her, but if you hadn’t placed her in my path, she wouldn’t be in my bed now.” Lady Amelia shook her head, clearly distraught. “I’m headed straight to perdition and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. Did you ever consider that perdition is exactly where I want to be? Go back where you came from, milady. Perhaps a future generation of Graystokes will have need of your services.”
Lady Amelia floated toward Jack on a carpet of mist, coming so close that Jack swore he could feel her cold fingers graze his cheek. He flinched, then touched his cheek, feeling the icy flesh left in the wake of her touch. She spoke then, and though her words had no substance, they reverberated loudly in Jack’s head.
“She will save you.”
“Excuse me? What did you say? Who will save me? And why in the devil do I need saving when I’m perfectly happy the way I am?”
Jack imagined he saw Lady Amelia smiling. But it was so fleeting he could not attest to it. He darted a glance at Moira and thanked God she was still sleeping, for she’d find this hard to believe. He could scarcely credit it himself. When he turned back to confront his meddling ancestor, Lady Amelia was gone.
“Milady, wake up. ’Tis time to rise.”
Moira groaned and turned over. Surely it wasn’t time to get up so soon. She had just gotten to sleep after Jack…My God! Jack! She opened her eyes slowly, fearful of what she’d see. If Jack was still in bed with her, she’d die of embarrassment. She trembled with relief when she realized she was alone.
Moira started to rise, saw she was naked and scooted back down beneath the covers. Jilly paid her little heed as she picked up Moira’s hastily discarded clothing from the floor. “Would you fetch me some tea from the kitchen, Jilly?” Moira asked, refusing to budge until the maid had left.
“Right away, milady,” Jilly said agreeably. “You’d best hop into the tub. I filled it in your dressing room while you were still sleeping.”
The moment the door closed behind Jilly, Moira eased herself from the bed and walked to the dressing room, every bone in her body protesting. She ached in places she never knew existed. The hot water felt wonderfully soothing to her bruised flesh, not that Jack hadn’t been gentle last night, especially after he discovered she’d been untouched. After the wanton way she’d acted, she dreaded the thought of facing Jack. Not only that, but she knew he’d demand an explanation of her virginal state after she’d told that outlandish lie about being abandoned by a lover.
“Are you finished, milady?” Jilly asked as she brought Moira’s tea into the dressing room.
Moira stepped out of the tub and into the fluffy bath sheet Jilly held out for her. She dressed with little enthusiasm and allowed Jilly to style her hair into a charming array of tumbling curls atop her head. By the time Moira finished her tea and toast, she was ready to greet the day and whatever it brought.
Jack was standing beside the hearth with his back to her when Moira entered the parlor a few minutes later. He turned when he heard her and gave her an inscrutable look.
“I took the liberty of turning Merriweather and Peabody away this morning.”
“You’re taking this guardianship far too seriously, Jack. I am my own woman, capable of making my own decisions.” Did he think he owned her now that he’d bedded her?
“You are an innocent, being pursued by a pack of wolves. I have no idea why you saw fit to lie to me. I no longer know what is the truth and what is not. As long as you’re under my roof, you will abide by my rules. You will not marry a bounder like Percy Renfrew.”
“What would you have me do,” Moira asked, thoroughly incensed, “become your mistress? You had no qualms about…about making love to me last night.”
Jack’s silver eyes glittered dangerously. “That was your fault. Had I known you were an innocent, I would not have touched you.”
The lie nearly choked him. Wanting Moira had become an obsession. He feared he would have taken her even if he’d known she was a virgin.
Moira glared at him. “It won’t happen again. It can’t happen again. I won’t allow it. From now on I will make my own decisions about my future. We both know what we have to do. You must marry Lady Victoria, and I will marry advantageously so I can help my brother. I’ll always be grateful to you for this opportunity, but you are not my guardian.”
“Damn it, Moira, I’m only thinking of your welfare.”
“My welfare! Pray tell how bedding me helped me in any way?” she challenged.
Jack had the grace to flush. “I take full responsibility for my lack of control, but I’ll be damned if you’re going to marry Renfrew, or any other man of his ilk. Is that clear?”
“You’ve made yourself perfectly clear,” Moira retorted. “And now I shall make myself clear. I appreciate your saving my life, but I shall be leaving as soon as I gather my things. When I find employment, I’ll repay you for everything you’ve done for me.”
She turned to leave. “Bloody hell!” Jack growled, grasping her arm and bringing her around to face him. “You’re not going anywhere.”
They glared at one another, and in the taut, vibrating silence, the heat emanating from their bodies was hot enough to scorch the air around them. His piercing look was so devastating that Moira felt the need to escape lest she be devoured by Jack’s hunger. She inhaled sharply as Jack reached for her, shattering the tension that had built to towering proportions. His touch was like fire. Then he kissed her, paralyzing her body and mind.
She was trembling like a leaf in the wind when he finally released her. She stepped away, her eyes as wide as a frightened doe’s. There was a hint of devi
lry in the slant of his full mouth, in the glint of his silver eyes. Sexual tension oozed from his pores, melting her bones. She had never felt more helpless or confused. Turning abruptly, she fled as if Satan himself was after her.
Chapter Nine
Moira kept out of Jack’s way the rest of that day. Falling into his arms like a ripe plum had been a terrible mistake, albeit one she had no control over. But now that she knew the danger of his touch and its effect upon her, she intended to make damn certain she wouldn’t fall victim to his fatal charm again. To that end she took pains to avoid him. She briefly considered leaving as she had threatened, but after careful reconsideration, she decided Jack was right. Where would she go? She had no money, no friends, no promise of employment. Her situation, her very well-being depended on Jack and that god-awful charade he and Lord Fenwick had hatched to pass her off as a lady. Unfortunately, after last night, she was convinced she could not marry for the sake of money, no matter how desperate she was to help her brother. After having tasted love, she would be satisfied with nothing less.
Jack’s thoughts paralled Moira’s. He was sorry he’d ever made that absurd bet with Spence. If Moira had been a whore as he’d assumed, he’d have no qualms about bedding her—or relieving Spence of two thousand pounds. And he would allow her to marry whomever she pleased, even Renfrew. Discovering that Moira was innocent had changed everything. He hated to admit it, but he was jealous of every man who sniffed at her skirts. To make matters worse, his obsession with the Irish beauty had led him straight to her bed.
And she’d been a damn virgin!
He still couldn’t get over the fact that he’d been the first with her. The best thing he could do for her now was permit her to marry Renfrew, or whomever she pleased. It wasn’t, God forbid, as if she loved Renfrew. And she needed Renfrew’s blunt as much as he needed Lady Victoria’s. Yet the thought of Moira in another man’s bed drove him wild with jealousy. Perversely, if he couldn’t have her, he didn’t want any other man to have her. If this jealous rage was the result of Lady Amelia’s meddling, he wished her straight to Hell.
It suddenly occurred to Jack that he still had no idea why Moira had lied to him, and all kinds of implications ran the gamut of his thoughts, some not so pleasant. From whom was she hiding? Obviously she had been running from someone that night his carriage ran her down. Who or what was she afraid of? His questions were so pressing—he wanted answers and he wanted them now. And he needed to tell Moira of a decision he had made.
After her sleepless night, Moira decided to take a nap, telling Jilly she didn’t wish to be disturbed. But Jack paid little heed to Jilly’s pleas as he burst in on Moira, awakening her from a sound sleep.
“Jack, what is it?” Moira asked, brushing sleep from her eyes. “Can’t it wait?”
“No, it can’t wait.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, frowning when she cautiously backed away from him. He supposed he had earned her distrust, but it rankled nonetheless. “It isn’t my place to tell you what to do or who to see. You’re free to marry Renfrew, if that’s what you want. After all, it was my plan to find you a husband. You need to marry a wealthy man just as I need to marry a wealthy woman.” The words nearly choked him, but his decision was best for all concerned. He was becoming far too involved with Moira for his own well-being.
“You want me to marry Lord Percy?” His words offered little comfort.
“He wouldn’t be my choice, but it isn’t my place to dictate to you. I’ve heard rumors about him but nothing that can be proved. He has money, and in your situation one man is as good as another.” He watched her through narrowed lids. “You don’t love him, do you?” There was a strong hint of male arrogance in his words.
“No, of course not,” Moira answered hastily.
“Good. Since that is out of the way, we can now concentrate on your reason for lying to me. What are you frightened of, Moira? Or rather, who are you frightened of? You’re hiding from someone. Who is it? Whoever or whatever it is, you can tell me.”
Moira blinked and looked away. Jack was too astute not to realize she was hiding something from him. Unfortunately, it was nothing he could fix. This dilemma was hers to solve; no one could help her. Bringing Jack into it would only confuse matters.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not hiding from anyone or anything.” The stubborn tilt of her chin warned Jack that dragging information from Moira wasn’t going to be easy.
“You owe me an explanation, Moira.”
“Perhaps I do, and maybe one day you’ll get it, but not now. It’s nothing you can help me with.”
“Who were you running from the night my carriage ran you down?” Jack persisted. No answer was forthcoming. “Are you frightened of someone?” Silence. “Damn it, Moira, you’re the most aggravating female I’ve ever come across. I want to help you.”
“No one can help me.”
“Let me try. I don’t blame you for not trusting me, and I can assure you I won’t interfere in your life again.”
“I’m sure Victoria will be pleased to hear that,” Moira said tartly. “Do you love her, Jack?” Moira knew the question was none of her business, but she couldn’t help asking it.
“Good Lord, no! But we suit. I suppose we’ll go our own ways after the newness of marriage wears off. Victoria isn’t known for her fidelity to her lovers. Heaven only knows why she wants me.”
Heaven might not know, but Moira did. If Jack made love to Victoria with the same fervor and expertise with which he made love to her, Moira knew exactly why Victoria wanted Jack. What woman wouldn’t? She wondered what it would be like to be his wife, to experience passion and intimacy with him again and again. It was a recklessly seductive thought, one she didn’t dare entertain. She wondered how Victoria would handle passion without emotion. Passion would certainly satisfy the body, but once pleasure was spent only emptiness remained. This thought led to another. After Jack had made love to her last night, why had she felt fulfilled instead of empty? She had been exhilarated and content beyond bearing. What did that say about her emotions? The answer to those questions teased the borders of her mind, but she deliberately thrust it aside. Those sentiments were too dangerous to contemplate. Admitting she had feelings for Black Jack Graystoke would only lead to heartbreak.
“Please leave, Jack. I’ll be in no shape for Vauxhall tonight if I don’t get some rest.”
“Is that your final word, Moira? I realize I can’t force you to divulge your secrets, but I’m not about to let this go. Rest; we’ll discuss it another time. I’ve arranged for Spence to take you to Vauxhall tonight since I’m escorting Lady Victoria.”
Moira did manage to find sleep, but only after clearing thoughts of Jack from her mind, which wasn’t an easy task given the way he dominated every aspect of her life. Lately, even her dreams were filled with his vital presence. After last night, she had but to close her eyes and recall the feel of his weight pressing down on her, the arch of her body meeting his, the plunging of his hard flesh into hers. She wondered if he was remembering the same thing.
Moira awoke from her nap refreshed but no less troubled. Jilly brought a tray up to her while she dressed for Vauxhall, and Moira managed to gulp down enough food to stave off hunger until the midnight buffet was set out for the guests. She wore the second of the three gowns Jack had ordered made for her—a green velvet with low square neckline, puff sleeves that clung to her upper arms and a skirt that fell from just below her breasts in shimmering folds. She refused to have her hair powdered and wore her own auburn curls atop her head in an elaborate confection of spirals and poufs.
“Lord Fenwick is here, milady,” Jilly said as she entered the bedchamber with Moira’s wrap. “He’s in the library with Sir Jack.”
“I’ll be ready in a moment,” Moira said. Truthfully, she didn’t care one way or another if she went to Vauxhall. She was sick and tired of this whole charade. It may be a game to Jack and Lord Spencer, but to her it was an abomination. Sh
e didn’t like lying. Unfortunately, fate had given her little choice. Lady Victoria would not marry Jack until Moira was gone from his home, and Jack was desperate for her fortune. She didn’t want to stand in the way of Jack’s future.
Moira heard male voices coming from the study when she reached the bottom of the staircase. Her attention sharpened when she heard her name mentioned. She moved toward the door and paused to listen, aware that she was eavesdropping but too curious to turn away.
Jack raised the glass in his hand to the light, admiring the clear amber color of his last good bottle of brandy. He took a sip, sighed in appreciation and turned toward Spence, who lounged carelessly in a worn leather chair.
“Fine brandy is like a willing woman,” Jack mused. “They are both best when savored slowly. Proper care enhances their flavor. One must appreciate the subtle nuances of their character to enjoy them.” He took another sip, rolled it on his tongue and swallowed. “Moira is somewhat like this brandy,” he continued blandly. “She has all its fine flavor, but unfortunately none of its character.”
Spence stared at him curiously. “What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Simply said, Spence, I find Moira’s character lacking. She is a liar. She wouldn’t know the truth if it stared her in the face.”
“Would you care to elaborate?”
“No.”
Spence gave a careless shrug. “Damn fine brandy, Jack.” He sent Jack a piercing look. “But I can’t rightly compare its flavor to Moira, not having tasted the lady’s charms. Clearly you’re an expert on both fine brandy and Moira. I have to hand it to you, old boy, you sure didn’t waste any time. You’ve had her, I presume?”