Pirate's Bride (Liberty's Ladies)

by Lynette Vinet

  Trembling with need, Bethlyn could barely think, her breath coming in tiny gasps. She clutched at Ian’s shoulders, her fingers digging into the brown velvet material of his jacket to keep her knees from buckling as each flick of his tongue caused golden heat to gather and swirl within her, threatening to singe her very being.

  She didn’t think she could survive the mounting pleasure, which was almost painful. “No, Ian, stop,” she pleaded, wanting him inside her, to know that he was completely hers. She tried to move away, but Ian’s hands clamped on her buttocks, bringing her closer, savoring her very essence.

  “Enjoy it, Bethlyn,” she heard him whisper. “Enjoy what I’m doing to you.”

  A tiny whimper of complete surrender escaped from between her lips. Her body grew fluid, molding against him, eager for his pleasuring. A delicious tension coiled within the womanly part of her, writhing like a serpent.

  Glancing down at her husband through desire-filled eyes, Bethlyn realized that Ian seemed to more than enjoy loving her, hearing her moans of pleasure. She closed her eyes and gyrated her hips, opening herself more fully to him.

  The tension coiled tighter and tighter within her. Her body felt ready to burst, but Ian seemed to know how far to the edge of ecstasy to bring her, how to keep the liquid heat from entirely consuming her.

  Never had she felt like this, never had she moaned with such pleasure and abandon, craving sweet release. But still Ian kept her body in check, almost as if he was master of her flesh and her soul. She sensed she waited for some sign from him before she plunged into the deep cavern of exquisite ecstasy.

  With fingers trailing into his hair, she grasped a handful of his thick black locks.

  “Ian, please…” she whimpered, not certain she could stand any more of this slow and delightfully torturous lovemaking.

  He seemed not to hear her plea, deepening her pleasure until she wondered if she would go insane with need, but suddenly and without warning, he lifted her from her feet to dangle her legs over his shoulders, his strong arms keeping her in place. Bethlyn gasped with pleasure when his tongue speared her, reaching into the center of her womanhood and not leaving her. His hot breath flowed over her like a tropical breeze. And then it happened.

  The tension uncoiled and twirled through her like a spinning top. Finally her body exploded. Wave upon wave of delirious rapture flooded her, only to gather and inundate her again with ecstasy so intense she thought she was dying from the sheer joy of it.

  “Oh, Ian, Ian,” she whimpered, clinging to him.

  Opening her eyes, she gazed at Ian’s face, so filled with his desire for her that she shivered. With a start she realized that they now reclined on the bed and he held her in his arms.

  “I don’t recall moving to the bed,” she said.

  Ian traced her lips with his forefinger and smiled. “You were occupied with something else.”

  Kissing her, she surprised herself by responding, her desire renewing itself.

  Ian’s lips broke away from hers, a naughty smile hovering around his mouth. “Don’t tell me I didn’t do an adequate job of satisfying you, you lusty wench.”

  She grinned and undid the buttons on his jacket, urging him out of it. “Apparently not.”

  “Liar,” he mumbled, and kissed one of her nipples before getting up and removing his clothes, only to join her again to thoroughly explore each other’s bodies with hands and lips.

  When Bethlyn writhed beneath him, wrapping her legs around the broadness of his back, she thought never to experience the same intense pleasure she’d known only minutes before. But when Ian slid into her warm and moist center, she opened to him like a blossoming rose. She matched her movements to his, arching and grinding her lower body against him, reveling in the glorious and pulsating sensations with every heart-stopping thrust.

  Then Ian’s tongue plundered her mouth, demanding the taste of hers, and she was lost.

  She stiffened and cried out as a climax, so unexpected in intensity, ripped through her.

  “Insatiable wench,” he said, his voice husky and his eyes hooded with dark desire. “Have you had enough now?”

  “No. I want more of you, all of you.” Bethlyn’s hands traced his back and wandered to his buttocks, pressing him against her to be filled more deeply.

  “God, Bethlyn, God, God…”

  His voice broke off to capture her lips. She moved beneath him, enticing him with wanton words whispered into his ear, her hands stroking and kneading his buttocks. Fire once more spread through her, leaving her moaning and aching until Ian plunged into her one last time.

  He shuddered, his eyes glazing over, and held her tightly against him. Ian’s release became her release when the licking flames of passion consumed her. Their cries of fulfillment echoed as one.

  ~

  ‘‘I’m starved.” Ian rolled onto his back when Bethlyn got out of the bed half an hour later.

  Pulling on her robe, she nodded, totally unaware of how beautiful she appeared with her tousled hair and flushed face. “I’ll ring for Pearl to send something up for us. We can eat in here.”

  “Maybe we should go downstairs. I hate for Molly to dine alone.”

  Fumbling with a button, Bethlyn turned her back to him, certain Ian would suspect something was wrong if he saw her face. “I’m certain Molly has eaten already.” Quickly she pulled the cord to summon Pearl, and within a minute the woman knocked on the door and Bethlyn told her she and Ian wished to eat in her room. Pearl bobbed a curtsy and fifteen minutes later the food was delivered to the room and placed on a small table by Annie, who gaped openly at Ian as he sat with only a sheet to cover his bottom half.

  Bethlyn followed Annie to the door and stepped into the hallway for a moment.

  “Mr. Ian is powerful handsome,” Annie remarked, her face holding a trace of awe. “Not even in my whoring days have I seen a better-looking man. You’re real lucky, missus.”

  Bethlyn shot her a chastising look, and Annie lowered her eyes in embarrassment.

  “Has Miss Molly left?” Bethlyn whispered.

  “Yes, missus. She and the soldier been gone a while.”

  Bethlyn was tempted to tell Ian about Molly, but she’d given her word and wouldn’t break it. Morning would be soon enough to tell him, she decided, when, after supper, he opened his arms to her and loved her through the night.

  When Bethlyn woke the next morning, she stretched like a kitten, a lingering smile on her face. She should be exhausted, having gotten very little sleep. It seemed that each time she started to doze, Ian woke her with hot kisses. They’d both been insatiable last night, their lovemaking more intense and mind drugging than ever.

  For a second, Emmie Gray’s image flitted across her mind, but Bethlyn no longer felt threatened that Ian would prefer Emmie over her. She didn’t know if Emmie Gray was the reason he’d stayed away from home and her bed the last weeks, but after the hours they’d spent last night making love over and over again until neither one of them could move from exhaustion, Bethlyn knew that Ian belonged to her and would never feel the need to seek out another woman.

  Satisfied with herself, Bethlyn sat against the pillows, the sheet barely covering her full breasts. She wondered where Ian had gone, since today was Sunday and the office was closed. When she had made up her mind to get up and dress, the door opened and Ian walked in.

  He wore a white shirt, opened at the throat to reveal his bronzed skin, and a pair of brown trousers and black boots. This casual attire reminded her of Captain Hawk. She rose to her knees, the sheet hanging in disarray around her. A lovely smile beckoned him to the bedside, and she lifted her face to his, expecting a kiss. She wasn’t prepared for the cold disdain in his eyes, the sneer which crimped the edges of his mouth.

  “Ian, what’s … wrong?”

  “Why don’t you tell me.”

  That terrible black look, the icy tone of his voice which could freeze water meant only one thing. Molly!

  Somehow I
an had learned about Molly before she could tell him. Bethlyn braced herself, taking a deep breath, and pulled the sheet about her, suddenly and stupidly embarrassed to have Ian view her body. Last night had proved to her how much Ian loved looking at her and touching her, that she wanted him to look at her and touch her, to do the same to him. She had wanted last night to last forever. Now it was morning.

  “I … I…” She seemed to lose her power of speech, almost reverting to the cowering child who displeased her father.

  “Since you’re unable to speak, no doubt from guilt, I will tell you.” Ian held out a hand to her in which he held a crumpled piece of paper. “I found this on my bureau when I went to my room to dress. It’s a note from Molly, and, needless to say, you know what’s in it. She cares for you very much, Bethlyn, pleading with me not to think harshly of you for helping her run away.”

  Ian threw the letter on the floor and bent down, his eyes level with hers. Never had she seen such contempt on another human being’s face, except for her father. She shivered, her trembling hands barely able to hold on to the sheet.

  “Sad as it is, Bethlyn, I was growing to trust you. Your body is most enticing, and you arouse me as no other woman I’ve ever known. Foolishly I allowed myself to be taken in by your beauty. You held great appeal for me, madam. For the first time I believed in love.”

  Ian yanked the sheet from her and pulled her resisting body against him. “You still hold me captive with those innocent-appearing brown eyes … your silky hair which smells like a spring garden.” One of his hands gently stroked a breast and slid down her leg to caress the soft nest of curls at the juncture of her thighs. Then, with his eyes never leaving her face, his fingers slowly slid inside her, to tease and torment her. He seemed to find some perverted pleasure in touching her when he wished to hate her.

  “And this I loved most of all, because you gave yourself to me completely. I loved watching your face and feeling the ecstasy wash over you when I was inside you. I have power over your body, Bethlyn. At this moment I could reduce you to a quivering mass of flesh with a few strokes of my fingers. I know you want that, because I feel you pulsing with need.”

  “Ian, stop, let me explain,” she said, at last finding her voice. She tried to pull away from him, aching for the dark pleasure he promised, but hating his anger and disappointment in her. “Molly loves Hans. She feared you’d stop her.”

  “I would have stopped her.”

  “But you couldn’t have kept her here. She’d have run away to New York eventually. She isn’t a child, but a woman in love. She begged me to help her, and I couldn’t refuse her. I know how it feels to love deeply. I promised her. Please … try … to understand.”

  “Ah, but I do understand. You used your body last night to keep me amused so Molly could run away.”

  “No, I didn’t mean to. I wanted you … I wouldn’t…”

  “I also understand about Della and what you did to ensure my safety.” Ian pulled her closer, his arm wrapping around her like a rope, stealing the breath from her. His fingers slid in and out of her, never ceasing their tender torment. “I understand that I panted after you like a besotted fool, falling in with your plan. You used my feelings for you against me. I almost forgot you were a British subject, loyal to your king, and the daughter of a man I detest. I wanted to forget everything but your tempting body, and I did. I forgot who and what I am.”

  “Let me explain.”

  “No! I don’t want to hear your lies, I want to touch you and force you to listen to me.”

  She didn’t know if she could speak anyway. Her mind whirled. Perhaps she should have tried harder to convince Molly to stay and speak to Ian, or she should have told him as soon as she saw him. But she felt confused, unable to think clearly as Ian’s fingers mesmerized her, deftly bringing her to the edge of fulfillment.

  “Do you want me to stop, Bethlyn?” he asked in a hoarse whisper against her ear. His hold moved from her waist to the rounded curves of her buttocks, his fingers playing within her flesh like a master musician on a finely tuned instrument.

  “You’re trying to prove something to me — to punish me.” She clung to his shirt front, barely able to speak. The world careened, ready to fly free and spin off into a universe filled with bright, exploding stars.

  His eyes blazed with black passion, his arousal of her unrelenting. “Yes, for other reasons besides Molly, but do you want me to stop?”

  God help her, she didn’t. If he stopped now, she’d have to beg him to finish with her. Shaking her head from side to side, her hair tumbling to hide her face, she blocked out everything but the raw pleasure igniting within her. Ian laughed, a wicked sound to her ears, as his finger movements quickened, working to end her torment.

  When he lowered his head to her nipple, sucking and tugging on the peak, her body betrayed her. Her cry of ecstasy broke free only to be smothered by Ian’s lips on hers, startling her with the force of his kiss. An eternity seemed to pass before he broke away, and she was breathless and embarrassed, burying her face in the soft folds of Ian’s shirt front.

  For an instant she almost swore she felt Ian place a gentle kiss on the top of her head, but she decided she was mistaken when he cupped her chin and forced her to look at his face, so icy and aloof she felt chilled to her very soul.

  “I’ve been a fool, but no longer,” he said. “Your many charms made me forget that our marriage was a business arrangement. I should have left it as such. I’d have been spared the pain of loving you.” Ian took a deep breath, holding on to her tighter. “But you’re my wife now, and as my wife, you shall perform your wifely duty by me.”

  “Oh, Ian, I’ll do anything you want. I love you so much. I’ll never keep anything from you again. I promise.”

  “Will you?” he asked softly. “Then tell me why you followed me to Simpson House a few weeks ago.”

  If he hadn’t been holding her, she’d have fallen. How had he discovered her secret?

  “I-I, wan—” she stuttered, her childhood affliction surfacing when she was nervous or taken aback.

  “Could it be that you wanted to know who took part in those meetings, that the names of loyalists turned traitor might prove beneficial to General Howe? Did you write down the names, or keep them in your head?”

  “No, I didn’t do that!” she cried at last.

  “Stop lying. There were five of us at that meeting who pretended to be Tories and hobnob with the king’s own. First to be arrested was Forrest, then Dennery. I received word from Marc this morning that Simon Price was arrested last night. Then there is Mr. Babcock, but nothing shall be done to him since he died in his sleep last night. So, that leaves me, the last remaining Tory of the group. Am I to be protected because you love me, my dear, or should I prepare for the worst?”

  “I’d never turn you in, I’d never do any of that.” She was shocked and dumbfounded by his accusation. “You must believe me.”

  “I don’t, Bethlyn. I can never trust you again.” He shook his head in dismay. “I wanted to believe you’d explain why you followed me. I gave you the chance. Remember the day you confessed to the robbery. The night of the meeting, I found the horse’s tracks in the snow when I returned home. The tracks led right into the stables, and Amos had just finished rubbing down Star. He said nothing, and I didn’t ask, because I needed to believe in you.”

  “Ian, you can believe in me. I never betrayed your friends.” Bethlyn threaded her arms around his neck, an urgency in her voice. “I needed to know where you went when you left the house, and when I listened at the window, I understood for the first time about the war. I know now why you’re fighting. I even wrote some—”

  “Stop it, Bethlyn!” His hands grabbed her arms, nearly shaking her. “Do you think I’m such a fool to believe that you’d embrace my politics? I assure you, I’m not.” Suddenly his hands slid to possessively wander across her buttocks. “I do believe that I love touching you and can’t get enough of your tempting fle
sh. You’ve betrayed my friends, helped my sister run away, probably to be used and abandoned by a mercenary enemy, and, lest we forget, you stole from me. But still I want you. What is this power you hold over me?”

  Ian appeared so lost that her heart went out to him.

  She’d hurt him when she’d only wanted to protect him and to allow Molly to find her happiness. His accusations of betraying his friends cut deeply into her, but in his present state of mind, she doubted he’d hear her out or believe her innocence. He didn’t trust her. Didn’t it always seem to boil down to trust with them?

  “I admit that you’re my weakness,” she heard him say in a tortured voice. “So, I shall be forced to live with you, or die without you. I can’t give you up yet; I shall make a pact with you, as we did when you first arrived at Edgecomb.”

  “What sort of a pact?” Bethlyn already knew she wasn’t going to like it whatever it was.

  Ian twirled a long strand of her hair between his fingers. “We shall remain married, and you will not admit to your contacts that I am Captain Hawk or that I am less than loyal to our dear Majesty.”

  “None of this is true,” she broke in, pleading. “I have no contact. “

  He spoke over her words. “I want a child by you, an heir, as double insurance that you won’t turn me in. After all, the child will need a father, and you wouldn’t want the stigma of my crimes to blemish him. The fact that I wish to sire a child by you hasn’t a thing to do with my feelings for you. I’ve a large amount of capital and would prefer to leave it to my own flesh and blood, rather than let the Crown take it. Until you conceive, you may dance with your Captain Andre and beguile your many male admirers with your charms, as it would appear odd if you shunned the season’s activities.”

  His eyes held a warning. “No one is to touch you. I need to know without a doubt that any child you bear is my own. Under the circumstances I’m being more than generous to you. After the child’s birth, you may cavort and sleep with whomever you choose. I don’t care what you do or with whom you do it, as long as you bear me an heir.”