by Grace Elliot
“Jack,” she panted, “I don’t want to get with child…not yet.”
“Trust me,” he whispered, caressing the dome of her left breast, weighing it in his palm with utter fascination. “I shall be careful.”
Emboldened, Eulogy’s hand tracked lower, snaking beneath his breeches, following the jut of his hip, rolling closer to reach the firm, neat muscle of his rear. With a giggle she squeezed his buttocks, and with a roar of mock affront, Jack growled.
His body was magnificent, lean, muscular and tight. Fascinated, and only blushing slightly, she swept his body with a long, lingering look.
“You’re a bold one.” Jack lay back and luxuriated under her stare, letting her drink her fill.
Eulogy smiled innocently.
“Farrell stares at me all day, and people stare at paintings of me…is it so wrong if I wish to look at you?”
“Oh no,” Jack said, his voice gravelly, “but you might get more than you bargained for.”
“Your body is so firm.” She skimmed a hand across his sculpted chest.
Jack bucked again, a sheen of sweat rising on his brow. With childlike curiosity she stroked a shadowed nipple and was rewarded with a groan, his face contorting. He placed a broad palm against her belly. His touch was like fire, its liquid heat making her gasp. With a grin, his hand travelled higher, stroking her breast. She shivered and arched, pressing hard, greedy for his touch.
Jack undid the ribbon that bound her long plait, combing his fingers through the thick chestnut curls until it tumbled loose around her shoulders and breasts. Taking a ringlet in his fingers and pressed it to his lips. Eulogy’s heart brimmed with love as she feathered kisses across his chest, his skin salty and tasting of hot male strength.
“Eulogy, my one true love. Let me pleasure you.”
His gaze held her fast, as is hand slid over the landscape of her waist and over her hips. Her breath came in sharp ragged jerks as he undid the buttons of the borrowed breeches. Suddenly, she longed to lie skin to skin with Jack, to feel his warmth pressed against her and wriggled eagerly out of the breeches.
“Now you.”
With a mischievous grin on her face, her hands reached for the placket of his breeches. His manhood tented the fabric as she marveled that she was the cause of such arousal. She fumbled with the buttons as he lay still. He groaned as her fingertips dipped beneath the waistband. Tentatively she explored, excited by the dip between his hip bones, fascinated by the thickening curls. Holding her breath, she felt for his shaft, which twitched and jumped at her touch.
Biting her lip, she explored the growing shaft, the secret place a maid was meant to be ignorant of. She gasped, for if it were possible it was thickening more, growing harder and longer. From Jack’s ragged breathing and the heat pouring from his body, he held himself in check. The appreciation, that he would do that for her, fired her passion still further.
Slowly, he raised himself on one elbow, resting his hand on the dip of her waist. Following her form, he stroked her hip, followed the length of her thigh. Eulogy gasped as the hand tracked to her inner thigh, the pad of his fingertips stroking to sensitive skin, reaching higher to the wetness of her concealed mound. Gently, teasingly he parted the moist lips, rubbing and kneading the inflamed nub. Eulogy lay helpless, floating, her body no longer hers.
She ought to be scandalized, her modesty outraged, and yet this was delicious. His finger worked to her rhythm, lifting her, raising her. Just when she thought she could take no more he introduced another finger, widening her passage, playing her passion until she was taut with need. A greed rose within her, a hunger to be sated. She needed him inside her.
“We were made to fit together,” Jack said softly, as if reading her mind.
Swallowing hard she nodded in understanding, as he straddled her aching body, supporting his weight on the column of his arms. Briefly, he dipped down to place a kiss on the tip of her nose.
Willingly, Eulogy allowed his bulk to settle between her spread legs. Blood surged in her ears as, with infinite care, he nudged his member inside against the moist welcome of private parts. Eulogy had to remind herself to breathe. Sensations bloomed within, as slick with desire, her shape gave to receive him.
“Relax,” he urged, his breath hot against her cheek. “Relax my precious one.”
She nodded. Slowly, he rocked. Each time she gave, he took, until his whole silken length was sheathed within. Slowly, and oh so sweetly, he started to rock, gathering her body and moving it to his rhythm. A moment of fear showed on her face.
“Hush, my sweet, there is nothing to fear.”
Eulogy whimpered, as a sharp pain stabbed inside. Jack stilled, cooing over her hurt until she smiled back at him. Then a glazed expression came to his eye, as with iron control of his burgeoning need, his hips thrust slowly.
Jack’s hips rose and fell urgently between her thighs.
Gripping the firm roundness of his bottom, she pulled him closer. Never had a man’s rear been so delicious, so taut with promise. She threw back her head as Jack thrust. A mute cry fell from her lips as butterfly wings pulsed in her core. Jack stilled, and yet trembles coursed through his body.
“That is just the start. Now all is pleasure.”
A tear spilled onto her cheek at his tender concern.
“My love,” she whispered.
Jack closed his eyes, his face taut and rigid. A rippling, rhythm gripped his body, working back and forth, faster and more urgent, demanding a response for Eulogy’s body. On the crest of a wave she gave herself, as from nowhere a thousand little quivers transported her to liquid form. A noise rose form her throat, an animal sound, part whimper and part song.
Jack had become her world.
She felt him rear above her, all alarming tension and steel, the veins on his neck standing proud. Then she was empty as he spilt his seed across her stomach.
It was several minutes before either spoke or moved.
Tenderly Jack wiped her clean, and then wriggled an arm around her, drawing her close. The way he held her trembling body against his chest, as if she was the most precious thing in his life, melted her heart afresh. He kissed her hair, his lips lingering, tasting her curls. “I solemnly swear never to hurt you again.”
Basking in the glow of spent passion, her hand played across his chest.
“And I promise to trust you.”
He tilted her chin, raising her lips towards his with bruising heat and kissed her. Every part of her body melted to his touch and she shivered.
“Cold?” he asked, with a glint in his eye.
Eulogy pursed her lips. “Now you mention it, there is a chill in the air.”
“My thoughts entirely.” With a look that made her toes curl, he closed his lips around a nipple. He met her gaze with a devilish wink. “My most pleasurable duty—to keep the future Mrs. Huntley warm.”
Chapter 21
Still the snow fell, no longer a blizzard but cheery spinning flakes to dress a virgin, white world. The attic room, which once had seemed mean and bare, was now a glorious lair that met their simple needs. What need had Eulogy for a feather mattress and silk sheets, when to wake cradled against Jack’s muscular bulk was comfort beyond her dreams?
Sometimes, after their lovemaking and when Jack lapsed into sleep, she lay awake just to listen to his breathing, to cherish every precious moment before the snow thawed. With a heavy heart she remembered that time in Hyde Park, when Jack had appeared devoted and yet humiliated her so. She pushed doubt aside. That was the past, she had sworn to trust him, and trust him she must.
Another dawn, but this time clear blue light filtered through the frost-crazed window. As Eulogy surfaced from a deep sleep, she sensed the change and her eyes flew open. There was Jack, stretched out beside her, all muscle and sinew, magnificent as a slumbering lion. Outside, in the stable yard filtered the unfamiliar sound of activity, doors banging and hooves crunching on snow. Her head fell back against the pillow.
“What is it my love?” a sleep drugged voice crooned in her ear.
“A noise woke me.”
Jack yawned and stretched, throwing a muscular arm above his head. “Hmmm, and I smell cooking. Bacon and fresh coffee.” His eyes flicked open. “Lord but I’m hungry.”
With a swift peck on her cheek, Jack sat up and threw back the covers. Still unused to the vision of a naked man rising from her bed, Eulogy blushed but didn’t look away, transfixed as he flexed his toned muscles in a way that sent fresh shafts of desire winging to her core.
“Breakfast, my lady?”
“If that’s all that’s to offer.”
He threw back his head and laughed with carefree abandon. “My little wanton. I can see I need to keep my strength up so, breakfast!”
Jack was already hopping into his breeches, tugging on a shirt and reaching for his hessians. Blowing at kiss at Eulogy, he made for the door.
“Shant be long.”
Eulogy’s heart sank as the door shut behind him.
She withdrew beneath the blankets, listening resentfully to the unmistakable sounds of the inn coming to life. When the thaw came it meant only one thing, a return to London. With sudden restlessness she rose to tend the fire.
She dressed, still favoring the freedom of Jack’s spare breeches and shirt. Running her hands through her tangled hair, she wrestled it up as best she could, checking her appearance in the dull mirror of the window. Her lips felt swollen, bruised by Jack’s kisses, and she smiled contentedly.
Bearing fresh-baked bread, cheese and a flagon of ale, Jack tumbled through the door. The stench of stale beer and unwashed bodies wafted in over his shoulder, and Eulogy hastened to shut it out. Safe once more in their private den, Eulogy inhaled the mouth-watering smell of a warm yeasty loaf. It was only then she appreciated just how ravenous she was and stole a snatch of bread.
“Steady,” Jack laughed, “mind you don’t eat me by mistake.”
As she danced around, his wary expression stopped her short. His smile faded, leaving taut lines around his mouth. No longer the happy-go-lucky Jack of the past few days.
“Something’s happened, hasn’t it?” Alarmed slammed through her chest. Had someone said something? Had he changed his mind about her?
“No my love, nothing’s happened.” He half smiled. “The thaw’s started, that’s all.”
“Oh.”
Putting down their feast, he pulled her against his chest, burying his chin in her hair. “Soon the roads will be open–”
“And we must return to London,” she said, finishing the sentence.
“Well we can’t hide away forever and I’m glad we’ve had this time.” Her lip trembled. Days ago she’d decided to offer him a way out. “I won’t hold you to the proposal if you’ve changed your mind. No one need know.” There, she’d said it. Jack stiffened and pulled away.
“You won’t marry me?”
“Oh no!” she cried. “I love you enough to let you go if that’s what you want.”
His face softened, tenderness in his eyes. “My love, this is just the beginning. We shall have such a wedding, just you wait and see. All the ton invited. Only the best for you. A carriage with four white horses, a feast to rival a coronation.”
“Stop, stop!” Eulogy shook her head. “I want none of that.” She reached up to caress his face. “Just a simple ceremony and you.” Stretching up, placing her lips against his she whispered. “Besides, it will be at least a day until the London roads are passable.”
A low moan escaped the base of his throat as Jack cupped the curve of her bottom. “Best then, we don’t waste another minute.”
As the day progressed, an eerie quiet descended on a peaceful snow-capped world. Birds emerged from hidden roosts, scratching around for berries. Tracks appeared, the snow longer pristine as those who lived close by set off home. A hay cart creaked into the yard and the stabled horses snickered at the prospect of fresh feed. Each time Eulogy went to the window, she armored her heart against the thaw, bracing herself for their inevitable return to London.
“Jack, when we get to London, promise me you’ll stay away from Devlin.”
He tensed.
“I can’t do that.” His voice was cold and shocking. She glanced at him pleadingly.
“I don’t want any misplaced squabbling over my honor.” She attempted a laugh, but it rang hollow. “It is like writing in dust, a waste of time.”
Jack’s lips formed a hard, taut line. As she gazed into his closed off eyes never had she felt so afraid. Trembling, she placed a hand against his unyielding chest.
“What Devlin did is unforgiveable. He cannot be allowed to get away with it.” He straightened his shoulders, a wall of irate masculine muscle.
“Jack, I need you to listen.”
Staring into the depths of his hazel eyes, she saw a familiar flicker. Slowly, he took both her hands and pressed a kiss on each fingertip. She must not be distracted, she had to make him understand; his life depended on it.
“Violence is not the answer.”
“It is the only language Devlin understands.”
“It is abhorrent to me! After what my mother suffered, the last thing I want is to descend to Devlin’s level. Can’t you see that?”
Jack’s eyes narrowed. With tender concern he ran the pad of his thumb over her lips to hush her. “Sweetheart, that man tried to harm you, more than once and he may try again. I can’t take that risk. If he goes unchallenged, who knows what he may try next.”
Fear sat cold and hard in her stomach. “He wouldn’t dare. Not now, you know the truth.”
“That man is ruthless and unpredictable.”
“And that’s precisely why you must leave him alone.”
“The ton needs to know the truth. Do you want him to marry and make some poor woman’s life a misery?”
Eulogy whimpered. “No, of course not but not at the cost of your life. What matters is that we are together. Please, I begging you. Don’t do anything rash.”
With a terse nod Jack turned aside. “I’ll consider it.”
The sun appeared in a cold clear sky, casting long blue shadows over the dips and ruts of a recently passed cart. Jack and Eulogy felt the change, but it was sensible, they decided, given the length of the journey, to wait and start for home the following day.
At dawn the next day, Jack and Eulogy dressed in silence.
After the easy freedom of breeches, her stays felt like a punishment. Jack tightened the laces, fastening the tiny buttons with the seriousness of a squire equipping a knight for battle.
Eulogy trembled as they made their way downstairs, recoiling at the stench of boiled cabbage and sweaty bodies. After the seclusion of the attic room, the bustle and noise of the inn was overwhelming.
Outside in the yard, Eulogy found the chestnut mare well cared for as the horse bumped her nose against Eulogy’s palm as if she were an old friend. Jack’s stallion, however, snorted and tossed his head as the lad struggled to bridle him. After days of inactivity, the horse clearly longed for a gallop. The grooms led the horses into the yard, the stallion stilled, seemingly enraptured by Eulogy’s chestnut mare.
“Clever chap.” Jack patted the stallion’s arched neck and winked. “Like his master, eh?”
Stepping onto the mounting block, Eulogy threw a final lingering look over her shoulder to the attic window. Jack’s hands spanned her waist to lift her, she shivered. It exhilarated and frightened her that his touch could do this to her body.
“Everything will be all right.” He squeezed her hand.
“I know…” She so wanted to believe him, whilst hating this new distance between them.
“And yet..?”
“I wish we could stay like this. Just you and me.”
Jack shook his head. “My love, you know that isn’t possible.”
She smiled bravely. “Of course, we must go back.’
Jack swung purposefully into the saddle. “London it is.”
Several hours later, as they neared London, the prospect of seeing her guardians, lifted Eulogy’s mood as she hoped they hadn’t been too worried by her absence. Obviously the same thought occurred to Jack because, as they clattered into the city, he escorted her straight to Red Lyon Square.
Despite the grey, sooty slush, and roads thick with gritty mud Eulogy’s heart sang, for it felt like coming home. She smiled indulgently at the stone obelisk at the center of the Square, and waved cheerily to a neighbor. The tired mare had no sooner stopped than Eulogy jumped from the saddle, and ran up freshly swept steps to Farrell’s door.
A strained looking Mrs. Featherstone answered her knocks. The housekeeper’s lips formed a perfect oval of wonder and she clapped her hands to her mouth.
“Why Miss Foster!” Joy sparked in her faded blue eyes. “Oh I’m reet glad to see yer safe.”
With a sob Eulogy flew into the older woman’s bony embrace. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
Half-laughing, half-crying, Mrs. Featherstone patted her shoulder. “There, there dear. No harm done.”
“And Mr. Farrell, was he very worried?”
“Less said the better, you know what men are like, but he’ll be fine now yer home again.”
From deep within the house came an excited whoop.
“Well as I live an’ breathe if that ain’t the wanderer returned.” Farrell strode into view, his eyes shadowed but walking straight and no slur except his Irish drool. Without ceremony, he too threw his arms around her. It was several minutes, and much sniffing later, that the group broke apart. Mortified, Eulogy suddenly remembered Jack, shifting uneasily, forgotten on the doorstep behind them.
