by Mary Brendan
‘I like the idea of it...’ The words sounded mild, but his eyes held sultry amusement.
Oh, he knew how he affected her, she realised. Was he confident that if he got her alone she’d be amenable to a seduction this time? Would she? Was she able to withstand him? Years ago when he’d secretly kissed and caressed her she’d felt dizzy with emotion. At the inn he’d aroused the same sort of thrill in her. Even now the memory of that kiss made her flesh fizz as though champagne bubbles showered her skin in places where his mouth and fingers had been.
The fact that he made her feel young and innocent again confused her. She wasn’t either of those things now...as he’d bluntly pointed out to her. She was a mature woman in every sense. Even if that experience of carnality with Thomas had been plain and basic, it had taken her from girl to woman and stranded her there. But in one respect she was unchanged: girl or woman, she believed that adultery was sordid and shameful. And thus she knew there could be no future for them.
Dawn shook herself from her introspection and started to move past him, about to call to Lily that it was time to go home.
‘You’re right...you deserve an explanation.’ Jack caught her hand, drawing her backwards before she’d taken more than two steps. His expression had grown serious...bleak, even. Yet he frowned as though unsure of his decision to open up to her. ‘If you let me take you home, I’ll relate it all. I’ve said too much now not to carry on. You should know how this damnable tangle started. But it’s not a pleasant tale.’
Dawn could see the conflict darkening the backs of his eyes. Would she be gracious and tell him he had no need to unearth painful memories for her sake? She couldn’t; she was greedy to understand what had kept them apart and destroyed her youthful dream of growing old with this man. So in tacit acceptance of their pact she said, ‘Thank you for offering us a ride, sir. I am ready to leave now.’
Chapter Eleven
Polly peeped at her mistress’s distinguished guest. She had gulped when the child had addressed him as Jack. Nervously she’d whispered to Lily to call him Lord Sterling, but the little girl seemed adamant that wasn’t his name. Polly had only clapped eyes on the fellow last week, yet she’d served Mrs Fenton since her marriage. It was obvious, though, that her widowed mistress and the handsome Viscount were close enough to be on first-name terms and Lily had picked up on it.
‘Your granddaughter is all ready for bed, m’m,’ Polly announced. She clung determinedly to her charge’s tiny wriggling fingers to prevent Lily scampering into the room.
Dawn had risen from her armchair to welcome in the blonde angel clad in her nightclothes. ‘Come here, my dear.’ She held out her arms and Polly allowed Lily to trot into her grandmother’s embrace for a goodnight kiss. ‘Sweet dreams...’ Dawn murmured against the child’s fair brow. ‘Now be a good girl and go quietly to bed.’
Jack was also on his feet and his expression didn’t alter when Lily said solemnly, ‘Night night, Jack.’
‘Goodnight, Lily, sleep well,’ he answered.
Once Polly had ushered the child from the room Dawn gave him an apologetic look. ‘I have asked her not to be so familiar with you, but Lily doesn’t understand about etiquette.’
Jack chuckled, gesturing he believed the matter trifling.
‘I know you don’t mind, but it isn’t appropriate.’
‘You trust your maid to be discreet, don’t you?’
‘Of course—Polly seemed quite shocked, though.’
‘There are worse things that can happen to make a maid seek her smelling salts.’
Dawn decided not to probe further into that enigmatic remark. A scandal might indeed be just a breath away if she were not exceedingly careful to avert it. With that in mind she politely offered him some refreshment. ‘Would you like a cup of tea? Or there is some port. I shall fetch it as Polly is busy.’
‘I need nothing, thank you.’
So far they had talked of incidentals, anticipating an interruption when Lily was brought to bid them goodnight. The uncommonly humid day had given way to an overcast sky and Dawn had remarked that a storm was brewing while gazing out of the window. In addition they had discussed how well the children had taken to one another on their first meeting. The promise of more outings had satisfied both youngsters on parting and Master Bernard had waved from the doorstep as his new friend was driven away.
Now there was no further need to delay with polite chit-chat, Dawn realised. Once her maid had settled Lily for the night Polly would retire to a cosy spot below stairs. A silence had already settled on the house and the premature dusk brought on by the sombre heavens had fostered an atmosphere of intimacy in the room. The glow from embers smouldering in the grate had traced their standing silhouettes on the wall. Another log was needed, as was a lighted lamp, but Dawn was loath to speak of mundanities and spoil this poignantly romantic moment. It would soon be ended and he would go. She had no right to detain him for long and would sit alone in the twilight, spellbound in that bedevilling fantasy of what might have been had fate not turned against them.
Dawn snapped herself from her trance and turned to the window again to avoid a pair of eyes that seemed as turbulent as the distant horizon. He knew of her inner yearning, she was sure.
A couple who lived at the other end of the street were hurrying past, no doubt keen to get home before the black nimbus rolled closer. They had slowed down to look at the sleek vehicle and fine horse stationed outside her house. Dawn knew she was risking gossip. Her neighbours were used to seeing the Houndsmeres’ carriage by her door, aware of her friendship with the Countess. But a gentleman’s racing curricle being too often in evidence would raise eyebrows. She didn’t want people speculating on why Lord Sterling, soon to be married, was paying Mrs Fenton frequent visits.
A sudden flash of lightning scored a jagged line through the sky, focusing her attention. The first fat raindrops fell slothfully to dribble like tears on the window glass.
‘The storm has started and your tiger will get soaked, poor lad.’ Dreamy nonsense done with, Dawn concentrated on practicalities.
‘He knows to move the vehicle under cover.’
He did, too. The boy was just changing position to put the carriage into motion. Dawn watched him skilfully employing the reins—nevertheless, she knew the moment that Jack approached and stood close behind her.
‘Do you want me to go, Dawn?’
She glanced over a shoulder at him. ‘Of course not. I want you to stick to our bargain and tell me your troubles. It is only fair as you know all of mine.’ She hoped that her light teasing might clear a path to the start of this difficult conversation.
‘Indeed, you have had some bad luck and sad times, haven’t you?’ He stroked her face with tender fingers, turning her about to face him.
‘And so it seems have you, my lord.’ She instinctively welcomed his caress by pressing her cheek against his palm.
‘Don’t call me that, even in jest. I’m still Jack to you...not a stranger.’ He paused. ‘The stranger is the fellow who gave his word to wed a girl he hardly knows.’
‘You hardly know me.’ Dawn attempted to move past him. She knew she must learn to accept him mentioning his marriage without getting snappy. But a sharp pain was tightening her chest.
‘That’s not true; it seems I’ve known you all my life.’ He used both hands to cup her face, keeping her close to him. ‘That’s how it was for me from the first moment we met.’
Dawn knew what he meant. Never had she, before or since, been so immediately in tune with another person. She lifted her eyes to meld with his and receive a ghost of a smile.
‘Are you sure you want to hear details of my foul past?’
‘I do,’ she said quietly.
His thumbs brushed against her jaw, then abruptly he walked away. Coming to a halt by the fireplace, he immediately commenced his account of those
missing years. ‘I left these shores having sought employment as a mercenary in service to the King. The work was perilous, we were told, but there were riches to be made. There was a group of us: other men of all ranks who had served in the army and navy were recruited to the same mission to bring a halt to piracy off the coast of Tangier. Cargoes were being plundered from English ships and those of our colonies and the threat to shipping lines and the Crown’s coffers was of grave concern.’
‘I believed most of the pirates had given up or been captured.’ Dawn was quickly absorbed in the tale and moved closer to read his expression. So far he had sounded quite remote as he reeled off facts.
‘After Napoleon’s defeat some rogue brigands saw an opportunity to resume their activities. The King wanted them quashed before they wreaked havoc on Gibraltar. One of my colleagues was Sarah’s father. Robert Snow had retired to Tangier after serving as a naval officer. He was a widower and his only child was living in Tangier with him. Like me, he needed money so volunteered to join the group and, like me, he came to bitterly regret his decision.’
Dawn perched on an armchair and indicated that he should sit, too. He declined with a vague headshake, staying where he was, his face dappled by shadows.
‘We had some success in skirmishes with the pirates, but unfortunately several of our men were killed and our numbers depleted. Our foe got more vicious as they fought to retain their toehold in the Mediterranean. We were boarded just off Tangier and, as I was the highest-ranking officer, I was taken to their hideaway to be questioned.’
Dawn sprang up and went to him. She had heard the hoarseness in his tone and needed no description of what had happened to him next. The horrors he’d spoken of had been encountered when he was a prisoner under interrogation. She slid her arms about his waist, cuddling him in comfort. ‘You need not speak of your treatment at the hands of those barbarians. Tell me of your escape and how you managed to get home at last.’
‘I didn’t escape... I was rescued by Sarah’s father. He hadn’t come for me...but for his daughter. Sarah had been abducted and was also being held and used as a bargaining tool, as was I. Those brutes wanted to ransom us both...that’s the only reason we kept our lives. But for Sarah...just sixteen...her ordeal was so much worse than what I suffered. Yet she is an intrepid little thing and vowed she wouldn’t let those savages destroy her.’
Dawn felt tears squeeze through her lashes as she listened. She moved her arms from Jack’s waist to slide them about his neck and hold him tightly. Still he kept talking, the words muffled by her shoulder.
‘Her father was wounded in the rescue mission and, though it seemed he would pull through, he succumbed to his wounds less than a year later. Before he died he reminded me that I owed him my life. Undoubtedly I did. He made me promise to marry his ruined daughter and to protect her with my name. He bade me do anything in my power to make Sarah happy. Eventually I agreed to it. I gave him my solemn word.’
Dawn moved back from him to gaze into his dark, tortured eyes. ‘You came back to England and saw me with my husband before you gave that promise, didn’t you?’
‘Yes. I believed you lost to me and returned to Tangier filled with regret and bitterness.’ A bleak laugh preceded, ‘I nurtured those feelings...they helped me take revenge on those who’d captured Sarah and I. Together with the other men left in our group I pursued them until they were all either killed or incarcerated. Sarah’s father passed away shortly afterwards. I knew Robert wouldn’t allow himself to rest in peace until we’d finished the job he’d helped us start.’ Jack paused, staring into the flames in the grate. ‘Sarah had got used to me visiting her father in the hospital and, though her ordeal had left her angry and wary of men, she grew to trust me. She agreed to the marriage, as I did, to pacify her father, not out of any affection we had for one another.’ He frowned. ‘But she seems settled now. In her letters she tells me she likes being close to the sea again at Wivenhoe. She seems content and nobody is happier to know it than I am.’
‘The poor child.’ Dawn hadn’t realised she was crying until she tasted salt on her lips. She used the palms of her hands to clear the tears from her face. ‘I’m so sorry, Jack. So very sorry for what has happened to you and to Sarah.’
‘The worst of it is that I want to break my vow to a dying man. I want you.’
‘You will not do that!’ Dawn enclosed his chin in a small hand, forcing it up so their eyes met. ‘You will never forgive yourself. You told me you feared me despising you for having nothing to give me. Now I know what has caused all of this I’m fearful, too. I don’t want you to hate me. If you go back on your word for my sake, you will surely never rest easy and neither will I. It is not just your conscience at stake now, but mine as well.’
‘I know...and that’s why I didn’t want to tell you and burden you with it. Yet...’ he groaned ‘...yet, if I can’t be with you, the longing will drive me insane. You feel the same way about me... If you didn’t...if you’d given yourself body and soul to somebody else...it would be easier to bear than this. Knowing you are now free but I am not is the worst kind of torture.’
In a single stride he suddenly brought himself too close for her to avoid him and his lips swooped to slant silkily over hers. Dawn made a token resistance, tried to free her mouth from one that was hot and desperately hungry. She knew she should reason with him, but her desire was being stoked by his skilful hands and lips, enfeebling that corner of her mind that warned her to be sensible. She’d had many long, barren years of being sensible. As he nimbly flipped her bodice buttons from their hooks she arched her back, pressing into him, impatient to have his famished fingers on her naked skin.
Jack’s growl of passion rasped deep in his throat and he lifted her off her feet, then walked them both to the sofa, lowering her into the cushions. In an instant he had followed her down, wedged a knee between her thighs while his mouth, alternately rough then delicate at her lips and breasts, made her squirm in delight. Years-old need had been unleashed, stiffening his loins like iron, and Dawn felt the thrust of his manhood scorching her through her cotton gown. He freed her mouth to plunge his lips against her throat and through panting sobs Dawn cried softly. ‘Oh...we must not. This isn’t right. You must go, Jack.’ Yet even as she said it her spine left the cushions. She closed the gap between them so she could abrade her taut nipples on the rock-hard sinews of his chest.
‘I can’t go! Don’t make me... I swear I’ll stop if you say...’ Jack growled out in frustration.
Dawn sighed, unable to gainsay him, ceding gratefully to his dominance as she was pressed back into the sofa and quietened with another potent kiss. She felt the tension leave her bones and undulated sensually beneath him as he lavished slow kisses and caresses on her exposed pearly flesh.
* * *
His mouth relinquished her pulsing lips, slid a moist trail to her breasts. Dawn was lost in excitement... Her body had craved this man’s touch for far too long to be denied. She whimpered, panted her ecstasy into the shadowy atmosphere as his tongue leisurely flicked, circled, relentlessly teased her. Her fingers were tangled in his silvery hair and, wriggling her calves free of her hampering skirts, she snaked those slender limbs around the brawny strength of him, rocking her pelvis against his in an age-old rhythm.
Jack gave a ragged groan and pinned her hips against the cushions. ‘You will agree to become my mistress? Please, say you will...’
A crash of thunder swallowed her answer and it seemed he wasn’t about to repeat what he’d said. An oath exploded beneath his breath, but barely penetrated Dawn’s sensual torpor. A second later he had lithely gained his feet. Jack reached the door a fraction before it opened and managed to block a view into the room with the breadth of his body. Dawn struggled to a seated position, fumbling with her clothes, her heart pounding in shock and embarrassment. What on earth had she been thinking of, behaving in such a way? In her own home...downstair
s on a parlour sofa! And Polly must have seen them!
‘I’m sorry, my lord, a visitor has arrived to speak to Mrs Fenton,’ the maid whispered, keeping her eyes lowered. But the deep blush on her cheeks wasn’t so easily hidden. She’d tapped on the door before entering and hadn’t seen much at all of what had been going on in the dark parlour. The Viscount had been quickly on his feet, protecting his lover. But the maid could guess what she’d interrupted and why no lamp had been lit. Polly was just thankful she had reacted swiftly and had managed to barge the visitor back into the hallway. She didn’t like him, whoever he claimed to be.
Dawn knew that a few of her buttons were still open, but she’d sooner leave those than draw attention to herself by fiddling with them. She crossed an arm over her gaping bodice and used the other quivering hand in neatening her tangled locks.
‘The Reverend Peter Mansfield is here to see you, m’m,’ Polly hissed.
Dawn would have preferred the devil himself to have called, but she said clearly, in a strong voice she barely recognised as her own, ‘Please ask him to wait in the hall. I will just be a moment.’
‘I will not wait, madam. I have travelled a distance and am wet through from the rain and in need of a hot drink.’ Peter yanked the maid out of the way and stomped over the threshold. It was obvious he had not known that Dawn had company. Polly had mouthed her warning quietly enough for him not to have heard what was said.
He swung a glance from one to the other of the occupants of the dim parlour and his fleshy lips took on a hint of a sneer. ‘Well...how nice to see you again, my lord.’ He jerked a bow. ‘I was not expecting to bump into you here. I trust I’m not disturbing anything.’
‘You are. Mrs Fenton and I have important matters to discuss,’ Jack bit out coldly. ‘Perhaps you would do as the lady asks and wait in the hall until she is ready to receive you.’
‘But...she appears ready to receive you...’ Peter remarked too innocently. ‘So may I take a warm by the fire? I promise not to interfere in your...business.’ The vicar looked past Lord Sterling’s athletic physique, his eyes alight with lasciviousness as they settled on Dawn’s slender figure. ‘It seems I have come to check on the child’s welfare not a moment too soon. I would see her at once.’ He turned to the maid, demanding, ‘Bring her, if you please.’
