“I know, but . . .” Diana rested her hands on his shoulders as she sent him a sly look, her eyes all dark and roguish.
She slid from his lap and sank to her knees, using her skirt to pad the cold floor of the folly. James’s pulse speeded. Her bodice gaped, breasts soft and exposed.
“I don’t have a pistol with me, no,” Diana said. “But I’d like you to unbutton your breeches anyway. Of course, Alexandra might lend me one of her husband’s pistols. I could go back to the house and ask her.”
James’s hand landed on her shoulder. “You stay right here.” He popped open the top button of the kid breeches. “I didn’t tell you before,” he said, opening the next one, “but if you had asked me that day you told me to bare my ass, I probably would have done it, even without the pistol.”
Diana’s cheeks went pink. “I was not quite myself that day.”
“Yes, you were. You were every bit yourself.” James pulled open his breeches, hiding a sigh of relief. It had been getting a tight in there.
Diana’s cool hand closed around his cock. She looked down at it a moment, then she gave a decided nod, leaned to his lap, and closed her mouth around him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Heat burned through James’s veins, driving away the last dregs of the illness. Damn, if Diana had only crawled into bed with him, he’d have gotten better much faster.
Faster . . . Did someone say faster?
Diana’s tongue moved, and James rocked a little on the stone bench, his toes curling in Finley’s slightly too-tight boots. James furrowed Diana’s hair, loosening it from its bun.
Why did she think her hair looked nice coiled up tight? James wanted it flowing over his hands, falling about her hips, loose so he could drown in it.
The wind kicked up leaves, strewing them across the floor of the folly. Gusts of rain slanted through the trees and spattered hollowly on the roof. Over it, James groaned her name.
Diana’s mouth was hot and wet, her tongue, wicked. He knew she’d not done this before — she knew the theory, but not quite how to put it into practice. No matter. James would teach her. What a joy to teach her, and teach her, and teach her.
Diana flicked her tongue all the way to his tight balls then back again, circling the tip of his fully aroused cock. James drew a long, dry breath. He couldn’t stand this.
A smattering of rain blew into the folly, the cold droplets hitting them. Diana gasped and jerked away from him.
James did not even notice the cold. He seized Diana and hauled her upright. “I’m suddenly feeling much better.”
He lifted her, his arms shaking, pushing up her skirts and bringing her down to straddle him again. This time, his free-standing arousal snuggled right into her.
Diana’s eyes widened as he slid inside her. Foolish woman, did you think you’d drive me wild and escape the frenzy yourself? No, no, Diana. You’re going to enjoy this with me.
James rocked back on the bench, driving himself high into her, feeling her close on him all the way. She squeezed his cock, spiraling his frenzy higher.
No other woman had ever made him feel like this, had made James’s desires and his heart get all mixed up and pour joy through him. And never mind Diana’s lack of skill. No, teaching her wouldn’t be any problem at all.
“James!” Diana cried, eyes tightly closed, moving into her climax. James thrust into her — once, twice. Rain-drenched wind tore at her loosened hair and dragged it free of its confining pins.
And then it was over. James crushed her close while he spilled his seed, whispering into her hair. His legs were weak and shaking, and any moment he’d fall right off the bench.
It didn’t matter. He’d fall with Diana, and he was certain they could find interesting things to do on the ground.
Diana rested her head on his shoulder, her warm hair drifting over his fingers. They had a lot of pain and a lot of things still between them, but right now, it didn’t matter. James was afraid, and she was afraid, and they had many walls to surmount.
But James thought, perhaps with this loving, this intimacy, while the rain poured around them, they’d made the tiniest of tiny starts.
*** *** ***
They spent the next week quietly as James healed. Diana slept alone at night, but she lay awake imagining James in his huge bed, lying awake too. If she’d dared, she’d creep around the gallery and into his chamber, but Alexandra’s house never went to sleep. Footmen and maids crept the halls all hours of the day and night, tidying, running errands, looking to see if the guests needed anything at all.
Diana had forgotten what it was like to have servants constantly underfoot, gliding about their business of running the house. Masters and mistresses might think the house theirs, but the servants knew better.
She’d grown used to waiting on herself and helping Mrs. Pringle. London society ladies would faint in horror if they knew Diana could peel potatoes in the kitchen and make beds like the best under-housemaid, but Diana liked being able to take care of things.
James had a slight relapse of his fever the morning after the folly, and Diana spent the day worrying that their activities had killed him. But James quickly threw off the fever and growled at her and Alexandra to stop fussing.
James told Diana, in Alexandra’s presence, that they would return to Charleston and marry when he was well, scooping up Diana’s father along the way. He made no mention of how they would get to Charleston, or where his ship was, or how he’d make the arrangements. So like a man — he simply announced it, and expected Diana to obey.
By the end of the week, James suggested he and Diana walk again to the folly. He chose the hour after the children’s tea, when Alexandra lingered in the nursery, along with Isabeau and Maggie. Diana strolled beside James to the woods, hoping they would continue their conversation about marriage, children, and Charleston.
But when they reached the folly, Diana discovered that James had not brought her out here to talk.
During the next two breathless hours, James discussed only whether another position he wanted to teach Diana was logistically possible. He found many varied and creative ways to make love on the stone bench, and he’d smuggled out some blankets to soften the floor.
They tangled together until they were weary, then they dressed and made their exhausted way back to the house. Diana was too tired for conversation then, just as he’d known she would be. Bloody man.
One evening, a week or so after this encounter, Diana saw through the open drawing room door James sitting with Alexandra on a sofa. James balanced little Charlotte on his knee, and Alexandra had Charlotte’s twin, Alexis, next to her.
The open windows of the large drawing room looked over a vast expanse of deep blue ocean, clear skies, and sandy beach. Londoners, amazed that the sun shone anywhere in England, were out strolling the far beaches and sailing little craft all over the blue, blue sea.
Alexandra and James’s conversation was so intense that they did not noticed Diana at the door, pausing to listen.
“But you left too quickly last time,” Alexandra was saying. “Grayson never had chance to tell you the things he wanted to.”
James made a impatient noise. “Stop trying to play peacemaker, Alexandra. You love him. I don’t. Even in the beginning, we couldn’t agree on anything. If Grayson had a plan, I had to have a better one. If I found a diamond, he had to have a bigger one. When I found a beautiful woman . . .” He stopped. Charlotte cooed, and Uncle James bounced her on his knee again. He held her gently, and Diana knew he’d never let her fall.
“When you found a beautiful woman, Grayson took her away from you?” Alexandra finished for him. “You are talking about Sara, aren’t you? Well, you know my opinion on that matter.”
“I do. You made it quite clear what you thought of both of us and Sara.”
“Only because it was a foolish fight. Your war is over.”
“We all need someone to battle,” James said dryly. “I think your husband and I
will always clash over something. We enjoy it.”
“I know what is in his heart,” Alexandra said. “He has great compassion for you.”
James’s laugh was harsh. “The last thing I need is Grayson Finley’s compassion. I’ll be gone before he gets home, and you can both feel sorry for me all you want.”
Alexandra looked up and saw Diana. Diana walked quickly into the room, as though she hadn’t lingered to listen, and sat down with the cup of tea Alexandra pressed on her. Diana busied herself teasing baby Alexis with the end of the spoon, and pretended not to burn with curiosity about what exactly they’d been discussing.
Alexis was happy at least. He shoved the spoon into his mouth and gnawed on it with two tiny teeth.
James seemed physically much stronger, almost at his normal strength. The bruises on Diana’s thighs attested to that. He’d taken her to the folly twice more this week, each time silencing her with brutal kisses that she did not struggle too much against.
Now James he drank his tea in silence. Alexandra darted a worried glance at him, but he gave her the slightest shake of head.
Diana ground her teeth. “Please do not cease the conversation on my account,” she said to James.
“Old business,” James said. “Over and done with. Can you be ready to leave in a day or so?”
“Leave?” At last.
“With Isabeau. We’ll go to Charleston, where we’ll be married.”
He took a calm sip of tea, Charlotte trying to grab his cup on the way up. James lowered the cup and let her take a tiny sip.
Diana watched him, mesmerized. He was so patient with Alexandra’s children, as he was with Isabeau. Now she’d give him a son or daughter of his own.
“And after that?” Diana asked.
James caught her with his gaze, his green eyes as strong as ever. “After that, we’ll talk about after that.”
Alexandra sent Diana a sympathetic glance over her raised teacup. Men, she seemed to say. Terrible at talking about anything important.
Diana had to wait until the next afternoon to speak with James alone, when they again walked to the folly in the woods. James strolled calmly from the house, but Diana knew that everyone in the household knew where they were going and what they’d do once they’d got there. No one ever asked to walk with them, and no stray child or gardener ever turned up at the folly at the wrong time to disturb them.
Diana had to wait a bit longer to ask questions, because James started kissing her even before they’d reached the folly. His strength had certainly returned, his strong arms cradling her, protecting her from the stone floor, which was hard despite the blanket. His stamina had returned as well. James had much stamina.
The blasted man gave her no time to talk. By the time they lay quietly, he stretched on top her, Diana was exhausted.
The day had turned warm and lazy, and James’s clothes and hers were scattered about the folly. Cicadas sang in the trees, and birds chased each other in pursuit of what James and Diana had already found.
James dozed, his face in her shoulder, so it was Diana who was the first to see the man standing on the steps of the folly. His light hair moved in the summer breeze, but there was no laughter in his blue eyes, nor any humor in the pistol he held in his hands.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Diana gasped. In one smooth movement, James rolled over, sat up, and pushed Diana behind him. She was never certain where James had obtained the pistol or where he’d hidden it, but the next moment, he was pointing it straight at Grayson Finley.
Diana got her naked body as far behind James’s as she could and peered over his shoulder. The two men eyed each other for a long, tense moment.
Then Grayson rested his pistol’s barrel back against his shoulder and took his finger from the trigger. “You’re a bloody fool, Ardmore.”
James did not relax. “Best get out, Finley, or your wife will be very unhappy with me.”
Blue eyes flashed. “I came here to save your ass.” Grayson’s gaze dropped to James’s body with ill-concealed impatience. “Your bare ass.” The gaze flicked to Diana, and she tried to fold herself a little tighter behind James.
James growled. “Keep your eyes to yourself.”
“Don’t worry, I’m a happily married man. And you’re damned lucky my beautiful wife told me where you were, and what you were likely doing.” Grayson looked around him. “A fine idea — the folly on a summer afternoon. I’ll have to remember this.”
“You’ll remember better if you turn your back and walk away.”
“James,” Diana said nervously. “Perhaps you should not shoot Lord Stoke until he tells you what he’s talking about.”
“I like you, Lady Worthing,” Grayson said calmly. “You’re a very intelligent woman, and much too good for him. While you were so sweetly dallying here, the Admiralty arrived in Newquay. Men are scouring the grounds of my estate even now, searching for you.”
Silence fell, except for the music of the excitable birds. Fury rose inside James, first at himself and then at Grayson. “And how did they know to look here?”
Grayson shrugged with that infuriating nonchalance. “You and I had a connection in the past, and they are leaving no stone unturned. I’m still a pirate in their eyes, even if I help the Admiralty. They pardoned me, but don’t trust me.”
Diana said nothing, her breath warm on James’s neck, her slim arms encircling his waist.
Grayson went on, “With Admiral Lockwood’s recent questions in London and my past association with you, they put things together. That and the idiot Henderson took rooms in the Majestic hotel as he always does. He was having gloves made.”
“Did they arrest him?” James asked tersely.
“Henderson vanished in the night. He’s good at that. I bet he got the gloves too. The Admiralty insisted you might be holding Alexandra hostage, and accompanied me down here to look for you. They’ve already found your things, but Alexandra pretended you coerced her to silence. Everyone believes everything my sweet wife says. So they are searching.”
James felt Diana start to rise, unclothed and all. “Dear God, Isabeau is at the house.”
“Alexandra and Maggie will keep her safe,” Grayson said. “Best you disappear, Ardmore. Right now. Before they start wondering where I’ve been gone to so long.”
James had already made up his mind. He distrusted Grayson with all his heart — in all matters except this one. Grayson had no love for the English Admiralty. They kept him dancing, with their ability to convict him of his pirate past if he didn’t cooperate with them. Finley capitulated to protect Maggie, Alexandra, and his new family, but he didn’t like it.
“Time to get dressed, Diana,” James said. “If Henderson has left London, he’ll have the Argonaut waiting. You have a boat that can take us there?”
“In the cove. But we’ll have to go quickly.”
“But I can’t leave.” Diana got to her feet as James rose, keeping his body between herself and Grayson.
“You can and you must,” Grayson said, eyes serious. “If you don’t, they might arrest you, Lady Worthing, and use you to bring in James.”
Diana snatched her chemise from the bench. “I mean I can’t leave this instant. I can’t leave Isabeau.”
“Alexandra and I will look after her and bring her to you,” Grayson said. “She will be perfectly safe, I promise you.”
“Trust him on this, Diana,” James said as he pulled on his breeches. “He’s almost as good as I am.”
Grayson shot him a look. “Believe me, I am doing this for your sake, Lady Worthing, not his.” He stopped as James took up the linen shirt. “Wait, aren’t those my clothes?”
“Picked out for me by your lovely wife,” James said. “Hurry up, Diana. Finley, turn your back.”
Grayson gave Diana one of his idiotic winks then turned on his heel and stared out at the woods.
“You look at her, Finley, I’ll shoot you,” James said.
Grayson chuckl
ed. “I agree that you have commendable taste, Ardmore.”
“You have your own,” James growled.
But he admitted that watching Diana dress was an enjoyable activity, even when the danger was great. She slid on the chemise, which hid her not at all. The thin folds moved enticingly as she leaned to catch up her dress.
“I know,” Grayson said, his back still turned. “I have the best of women.”
“Not quite,” James said. “I believe I have that claim.”
Grayson glanced over his shoulder, but Diana was covered now, her back to them while she buttoned her bodice. “You speak as though Alexandra and I were racehorses,” she said. “She would not be pleased, I think.” Diana plumped down on the bench and wriggled her toes into her stockings.
James heard sounds of movement in the woods, saw a flash of red. He hefted the pistol.
An English voice, fresh from the streets of London, called out, “This way, sir. There’s a folly of some kind in th’ wood.”
“Search over there, sergeant,” a well-bred voice answered. “I’ll go round behind.”
They were making unnecessary noise. Good. That helped James pinpoint exactly where they were.
He tugged Diana out of the folly and into a thicket, taking refuge behind a thick-boled tree. Grayson discreetly faded away.
James pocketed his pistol and removed a short knife he’d pilfered from Grayson’s collection. It had a well-balanced blade and would make a silent, deadly weapon.
A man stepped into the folly, half hidden by the tree’s leaves. James could see only a dark-blue coat and white trousers, the uniform of a naval officer.
James steadied the knife. Diana breathed quietly behind him, tense.
The officer found the blanket. He paused, studying it for a time. He looked up again, scanning the area, then made his way out of the folly, boots making little noise on the damp leaves.
The officer strolled unerringly to their hiding place, and stopped. James swiftly stepped from the shadows and brought the knife up to rest at the hollow of the officer’s throat.
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