Three Weeks with a Princess

by Vanessa Kelly

  Digging her fingers into his coat, she tried to find purchase. She needed to push him away, if she wanted to retain a particle of sense in her frazzled brain, because any second now Jack would come to himself and no doubt pull away, horrified and guilt-ridden for losing control.

  It felt like passion, the luscious taste of his mouth, the nip—oh—of his teeth on her lower lip. But this surprising, impetuous, scorching kiss wasn’t passion. It was anger and the need to teach her a lesson. It wasn’t desire or love or even lust. It was Jack, the most easygoing and patient man on the planet, finally reaching the end of his rope. And once he clambered back up that rope, he would be mortified by what he’d done.

  And she would be utterly devastated when he rejected her—again.

  Push him away—now.

  She breathed a sigh of regret, then flattened her hands on his chest and shoved. It wasn’t easy because her toes dangled above the floor and his muscled arms lashed her close with startling strength. Jack seemed reluctant to release her, even though he’d surely made his point. In fact, when she wriggled, trying to put some daylight between them, the growl from his throat sounded more like a feral dog than a man trying to impart a scold. Even more amazing was the feel of one of his hands sliding down her spine to clamp onto her bottom, tucking her tight against him.

  Lia froze, completely shocked. She was a maiden but hardly naïve. She knew what happened between men and women and knew that a certain degree of enthusiasm was required to complete the deed, especially on the man’s part. To say that Jack had reached such a state of enthusiasm would grossly understate the case; his erection pressed against the softness of her belly with insistence. It also pressed against other parts that no respectable young woman generally thought about.

  Of course, that was all she could think about at that moment, and it triggered a desire to squirm just a little bit closer and a little bit higher, so that her—

  Stop.

  She slammed the door to the images flooding her brain and pressed her lips shut against him. It wasn’t an easy task when a man was trying to push his tongue deep into one’s mouth. Jack sensed her retreat and drew back, his mouth slowly, reluctantly, sliding away. His arms, however, remained locked around her in an intractable hold.

  Gasping, Lia gazed up at him, her head swimming as she absorbed the hunger in his glittering, dark eyes and the sensual set to his mouth.

  “What’s wrong, Lia?” His tone was husky and deep, making her shiver.

  “You truly don’t want to do this, Jack. Besides, you’ve amply made your point.”

  His lips, damp from their torrid kiss, curved up in that wry, familiar smile. “The hell I don’t. And if I did have a point when I started this, I’ve completely forgotten it.”

  When he started to lower his head again, she locked her wrists to hold him back. “That comment proves my point. You need to stop and think, and in the meantime, please put me down.”

  As much as she enjoyed his quite arousing strength, she was also getting tired of dangling like a rag doll.

  He grimaced, but then eased her down in a deliberate slide that left her gasping. She felt everything, and it all felt deliciously . . . hard.

  “That wasn’t very polite of you,” she said as her toes hit the floor. She was forced to keep a tight grip on his forearms until she regained her balance.

  Jack leaned down and nuzzled her cheek. “I’m not feeling very polite at the moment.”

  She shivered. “Ah yes, I couldn’t help but notice. But please just stop and think for a minute before something unfortunate comes to pass.”

  He barked out a short laugh. “I’m done thinking. Besides, I don’t think I could if I tried.” He tapped a finger to his skull. “At least not with this particular head.”

  “Good God, Jack. Have you completely lost your senses? You’ll only—”

  He leaned against the door and pulled her between his braced legs. There wasn’t a scrap of space between them and only a few scraps of cloth between body parts that had no business interacting in such a reckless fashion.

  “I’ll only what?” he asked.

  “Ah, I forget.” She needed to get the situation under control, but neither her brain nor her body showed the slightest inclination to cooperate.

  He flashed her a wicked, seductive smile. “Good, because I’m done talking. All I want do is feel—feel you.”

  She goggled up at him, unable to formulate a sensible response. The way he looked at her—as if he wanted to strip her bare and devour her—made her go positively light-headed.

  When his hands stroked down from her waist, cupping her bottom, Lia didn’t even try to swallow the moan that rose from her throat. She might even have wriggled a bit, although she wasn’t sure because her brain had ceased to function with any reliability. When he nibbled her jaw and then kissed her neck, she found herself craning her head to the side, silently urging him on to the shivery part right behind her ear.

  Clearly, she was an idiot.

  “Aren’t you tired of talking, too?” he whispered. “Don’t you want this as much as I do?”

  “I . . . I’m just trying to be sensible, Jack. One of us has to be.”

  His hands came up to her shoulders and he tipped her back a few inches. His gaze ran hungrily over her form. “There’s nothing sensible about any of this, love. Especially the way you’re dressed,” he added, as if he’d just noticed her ridiculous costume.

  He ran a finger along her collarbone and then dipped down between her breasts. It felt as if he’d brushed a flame over her skin. When he trailed hard fingertips across the plump swell of her breasts, a sultry heat cascaded through her body to settle low between her thighs. How could such a simple touch evoke so much sensation?

  Because it was Jack.

  “I want you, Lia,” he said in a low, rough voice. “All of you. No more barriers between us, no more being sensible.” He leaned down to flick his tongue across her parted lips. “No more saying no,” he whispered.

  She clung to him as the axis of her feverish, spinning world, the only thing keeping her from collapsing in a quivering heap. He’d been everything she’d ever wanted for as long as she could remember. When she was a little girl, he was a comet shooting through the ordered march of days, flaring brightly through her life a few times a year. And from the moment she’d started to grow into womanhood, she’d yearned for him with an ache that could never be assuaged. That ache now flooded her body, refusing to be denied for one second longer.

  “But, don’t you think . . .” she quavered, making one last push to save herself.

  To save him.

  He nuzzled her mouth, cutting off her objection and sealing her fate. From the moment he’d come to her rescue tonight, she’d been fighting against this moment of surrender. She’d even asked for his help in finding a protector. It had been her last stand, a gamble to either secure his help or drive him away once and for all.

  What she hadn’t expected was his rejection of both those scenarios. What she hadn’t counted on was Jack laying hands on her and staking his claim.

  One of those hands swept down over her chest to cup her breast. He swiped a thumb over the nipple, gently teasing it, and her feeble resistance crumbled into dust.

  “Hmm, that’s nice.” An utterly satisfied smile raised the corners of his mouth as he flicked his thumb back and forth across the stiffening peak. “Do you think it’s nice, Lia?”

  “I . . . yes,” she whispered. Her voice sounded as wobbly as the muscles behind her knees.

  “Good,” he growled.

  “And you’re sure?” she asked, still doubting. “Really sure?”

  Because if he later regretted this she would simply die. Whatever else might happen between them in the future, she wanted this moment to be untouched by guilt—or anything that wasn’t passion or grace or even good, clean lust between two adults who knew exactly what they were doing and why.

  He cradled her face between his palms. “L
ove, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

  “Oh, I . . . well, that’s all right, then.”

  His quiet laugh was rueful. “Please trust me, Lia. Trust me as you always have. As you know you can.”

  She let his words sink into her heart, because that was where trust lived. “Always, Jack.”

  “Thank God.” He swept her into his arms, lifting her high against his chest. “Because your costume is driving me insane. I’ve spent the entire evening trying not to look at your breasts and wanting to murder every man who did look at them.”

  She hid her face against his shoulder. “I’m sorry I’m such a trial,” she said, trying not to laugh.

  “Oddly, I don’t seem to mind,” he said, “at least not at the moment.”

  That brought her head up. “Because you’re going to have your evil way with me?”

  “Indeed I am,” he said, sounding remarkably cheerful. He looked cheerful, too, albeit in a lustful way. In fact, he seemed much more like his old self than the man who’d spent months struggling under the burden of too many responsibilities and a life he’d never wanted.

  He carried her to the large leather club chair, wincing slightly as he settled her on his lap. When she wriggled a bit to get comfortable on his hard thighs, it drew a slow hiss from between his lips. Although she feared she’d hurt him, his expression suggested the opposite. His gaze was heavy-lidded and sensual as one hand cradled the back of her neck and the other settled comfortably under her breasts.

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Are we staying here? I’m sure Lord Stanley and his friends are long gone by now.”

  “Don’t remind me of that loutish crew. No, we’re staying here because it’s private and no one will interrupt us.”

  She slid her arms around his neck. “That’s all right, I suppose.” She wasn’t quite sure how she was going to lose her virginity sitting up in a chair, but no doubt Jack knew what he was about.

  He gave her a sardonic look as he went to work unlacing the crisscrossed ribbons on the front of her bodice. “I’m hardly going to despoil you in a grimy hackney on the way back to Upper Wimpole Street. I cannot imagine a more unromantic setting.”

  She crinkled her nose. “And you’re much too big for me to sneak you up to my bedroom, although we could give it a try.”

  He pulled the ribbons free and her bodice sagged open, exposing her stays and shift. “The only thing less romantic than making love in a hackney would be doing it with Sir Dominic and Lady Hunter just down the hall.”

  “Yes, I imagine that would be rather off-putting.”

  Not to mention exceedingly risky. If anyone got wind of what happened tonight, Jack would be compelled to offer for her hand in marriage. Lia had no intention of ever putting him in that untenable situation. Tonight was a moment out of time, a magical interlude in which they could pretend to meet on equal footing, with no obligations weighing them down and no families to disapprove.

  She had to blink back tears, knowing it would likely only be this once. But at least, this first time, it would be him, the man she loved. That was a memory and a blessing she would cherish forever.

  “Granny was right,” she whispered.

  He glanced up, his busy fingers resting on her stays. “Sorry, what?”

  She gave him a smile. “Nothing. Carry on, Lord Lendale, and do let me know if there’s anything I can do to assist.”

  His laugh was husky and so delicious it made her want to squirm.

  “All I want you to do is enjoy yourself,” he said. “This night is entirely for you.”

  He kissed her lips, briefly parting them for a taste. She sighed into his mouth and let her fingers curl into the silky tips of his hair. Her heart thumped as her mind struggled to grasp that she could touch him as much as she wanted, wherever she wanted.

  It was so much more than she’d ever thought she’d have.

  He pulled back with an appreciative murmur and went to work on her conveniently front-laced stays.

  “That was much too easy,” he said, tugging them down. “You’re not to wear a garment like this again, is that clear? It gives a man ideas.”

  “It certainly seems to have worked with you.”

  “Yes, and all my ideas about you are scandalous,” he said as he cupped her breast.

  Her nipples were dark and stiff with arousal, pushing against the thin fabric of her shift. He thumbed first one, then the other. The linen rasped across the tight beads with delicious abrasion, sending shivers coursing along her skin.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered.

  Jack held her tight as he slowly lowered his head. His tongue flicked out, laving her nipples through her shift. Lia wriggled, silently urging him to increase the pressure. He resisted, obviously intent on teasing her. When she tried to arch up into the light pressure, he lifted away from her.

  “That’s just cruel,” she gasped.

  “Is it?” he murmured. His entire focus was on her chest, where he’d pulled the damp fabric tightly across the stiff peaks.

  “Yes.” She needed so much more than gentle play. She needed his hands and his mouth on every part of her, drawing forth the sensations she’d craved for so many long, lonely years. “I don’t like being teased and you know it.”

  He scraped a palm across the tight point. “But it’s such fun to tease,” he said, his tone full of masculine satisfaction.

  Well, two could play at that game.

  Giving him a taunting smile, she flexed her hips, pressing down into his lap. His erection pulsed against her bottom and he made a slight, choking sound. Lia ran her index finger down his proud, aristocratic nose, then dragged it across his lips while she wriggled her hips again.

  “You were saying, my lord?” she purred.

  In retrospect, her form of teasing might have been a bit of a mistake because lust burned hot across Jack’s features, searing away any hint of laughter in his eyes. The muscles of his legs went as hard as iron and his arm locked around her shoulder in an unbreakable grip.

  “No more games, Lia.” His hand curled around her breast, firm and possessive.

  “But it’s all a game, isn’t it?” she whispered. Even as her heart swelled with emotion, she knew that this could never be more than a brief moment of magic. It could never be forever.

  “It’s much more than that,” he said, sounding almost grim. “Because you’re mine.”

  He took her shift and yanked, ripping the top. She gasped as he squeezed a flushed nipple between his fingertips.

  “All mine,” he rasped.

  Then his mouth was on her. She cried out and jerked against him, but he held her fast, sucking and laving her breasts until she thought she would faint. Lia had dreamed of this so often, their first time together, and she’d always thought it would be slow and gentle, with tender touches and tentative whisperings. That their lovemaking would be dreamy and soft, in her cozy bed under the eaves of Bluebell Cottage.

  But instead this was a hurricane, terrifying in its intensity, and she wanted it so much her heart threatened to beat its way out of her chest. She squirmed, pulling a hand free and clamping it to the back of Jack’s head, pushing her breast into the scorching depths of his mouth. Her back curved in a fierce arch, her body offering him everything he wanted.

  A few seconds later he eased back—she wanted to scream from frustration—and let his tongue rest flat against one throbbing nipple. Lia moaned and yanked on the thick locks of his hair.

  “Ouch,” he said, glancing up at her. The laughter was back in his eyes, although heat flickered behind the amusement, like distant summer lightning.

  “Why are you stopping?” she panted. Her sex had grown soft and wet, throbbing with the need for release.

  “Because I shouldn’t be all over you like a slavering beast. At least not our first time together.”

  First and only time together.

  Shoving aside that pang of sorrow, she stretched up to kiss him, nudging his lips open and suc
king on his tongue. He groaned deep in his chest as she filled her mouth with him, reveling in the slick exchange. It was hot and delicious, as she’d known it would be. It was a promise of things to come, when he would kiss her like this while slowly thrusting into her, his erection pulsing inside her yielding body.

  How shocking it was to think such scandalous thoughts—to want this from a man who could never wed her. Lia supposed that made her just as wicked as her mother and grandmother, and that was probably a good thing. After all, if she intended to embark on a career of having sexual relations with men, it would be terrible to discover she didn’t like it.

  Unfortunately, she had a sinking feeling that only Jack could ever make her feel this way.

  She drew back and had to stifle a smile at the slightly dazed expression on his face. “You’re not acting like a beast. Besides, do I look as if I mind?”

  His gaze traveled over her face and down her semi-nude body. “No,” he said, gently tugging her nipple between his fingertips. “In fact, you look ready for more. Much more.”

  “Splendid,” she whispered, feeling rather dazed herself. Her limbs had never felt like this—practically quivering with energy and yet so heavy and languid at the same time. She wanted to sprawl on his lap all night, letting him play with her for hours on end.

  He slowly swept his hand down her body, lingering on her belly before drifting down to her mound. He gently cupped it briefly through her silly, frothy skirts before letting his hand glide down to her thigh.

  “You have a gorgeous body, Lia,” he murmured as he gently squeezed her thigh. “I never knew how gorgeous because you always wore such plain, practical gowns.”

  “Yes, because one doesn’t generally dress like a tart when weeding the kitchen garden or cleaning out the pantry.”

  When his hand stilled on her thigh, his fingers digging in slightly, she glanced up to see him glowering at her.

  Lia sighed. “Now what?”

  “You may have dressed like one tonight, but you are not a tart,” he said emphatically.

  She lifted an ironic brow and glanced down at herself. She was sprawled across him, half-naked, her breasts still damp and flushed from his mouth. “Oh really?”