Prisoner of Desire

by Mary Wine

  Reaching down, she sought the hard flesh she craved.

  She never gripped it. Warren rolled over her completely. Her thighs cradled his hips, the folds of her sex opening for the hard touch she wanted.

  "I need you, Lorena. I swear I do."

  He thrust smoothly into her, a soft cry echoing throughout the room. Lorena heard it but wasn't aware of just who made the sound. They felt like the same person, pleasure gripping them,

  driving them toward fulfillment. She lifted her hips for every downward thrust of his. Her body eagerly taking his length, the stretching fullness sending delight through her. She wasn't close enough. He wasn't deep enough inside her. "More. Warren.. .1 need more." More of everything.

  More speed, more strength...just more. He covered her, letting his weight press her down into the feather mattress. She pulled him closer, even though it became difficult to draw breath. "I'll give you all you want. All. " He ground his cock into her, pushing deeper and harder into her spread body. He gripped her hair, holding her prisoner while his body slammed against hers. Pleasure tightened and twisted deep inside her belly until it erupted in a cascade of pleasure so intense she cried out. There was too much to keep contained, too much to do anything except experience the rapture.

  Warren buried himself and shuddered, his body convulsing and drawing so tight his teeth gritted.

  Deep in her passage, she felt his seed pumping into her. Hot and burning, it sent another

  convulsive ripple of sensation through her.

  The room spun in a dizzy circle, her heart pounding too fast for her lungs to keep pace with. She didn't care. Her body relaxed, all of her weight lying on the mattress in a heap.

  Warren rolled off her but pulled her against his side, his hands shaking. Their breathing was rough but sounded so right she smiled. Finding words to explain things had never given her such satisfaction. But she felt cherished in his embrace, more so than she could ever recall.

  For the moment, Warren held her and everything was perfect. Tomorrow was an eternity away,

  all of its decisions and duties too distant to worry about.

  Yes, perfect, and perfection was like a smooth pond surface. It should not be disturbed.

  Warren watched the horizon turn pink. He didn't mind though. Waking early had never held such rich rewards as it did today.

  Lorena was still snuggled deep in his bed. She was the first woman he'd ever had beneath his parents' roof. It suited her. Lorena was different than his mistresses. She belonged nested against his side, a costly goose-down comforter pulled over her shoulder to keep her warm. Satisfaction filled him. It refused to allow him to slip back into slumber. But the rising sun drove him out of bed to close the bed curtains so Lorena might rest.

  He grinned. He planned to keep her up late as often as possible. Dressing took little time, but he carried his boots from the room to maintain silence. The house was still slumbering. The lower floor was brightening with the morning sun, the long glass windows letting the light in. Only the upper floor had draperies.

  "You have forgotten whose son you are if you believe no one else is up to greet the dawn."

  Warren paused just past the doorway to the small room the family took their private meals in.

  His mother's voice drifted softly into the entry hall with just a hint of mocking. Returning to the doorway, he moved into the room and sat in a chair. He pulled on his boots while his mother studied him over a china cup held in her hand.

  "Your father is ever the marauder that he was when I met him. You get your early rising habit from me and your tendency to plunder from him."

  Brigitte aimed a knowing look on him. Her lips were pursed into a mild pout but her eyes danced with merriment. Ten years ago he'd cringed at her frank tendency to discuss the fact he was not a virgin.

  Today only a little heat touched his neck.

  "No one noticed, except for me and your brothers. Garrick mentioned something about giving Lady Holly to Lorena."

  Warren lifted the coffee pot. The rich brown brew was still steaming as he poured it. His mother watched him, waiting to see if he would answer her. Her eyes narrowed when he only stared at her over the rim of his coffee cup. She finally huffed and smiled.

  "As I said, you are a marauder like your father. You'll be fortunate if Lorena loves you in spite of that."

  "You love my father in spite of his history."

  Brigitte angled her head slightly. An elegant motion that fit with her overall radiance.

  "At times I find myself suffering tender emotions for him."

  Warren snorted, gaining a frown from his mother. "Lorena seems bent on avoiding such

  emotions."

  His mother lost her teasing air. Her face became pensive, the china cup lowering to its saucer.

  Warren shrugged. "I've always known you are unique in being able to love a man who stole you."

  "Lorena spent the night in your bed. I saw it with my own eyes."

  His mother was thinking out loud, but the heat rose beneath his collar. She tapped the tablecloth with a perfectly manicured fingertip. Her gaze moved over him and her finger stopped while her eyes sparkled with victory.

  "I have been peeking in on you and your brothers since your father made me send you to the nursery. Do not expect my habits to change while you sleep beneath my roof." Her gloating ended as she contemplated his face. "Your courtship tactics might be bold, but Lorena did not appear.. .displeased. She was clinging to you long after you'd both fallen asleep."

  "Mother..."

  Brigitte waved her hand. "I am married to your father, Warren. There is nothing you did last night that is original to your generation. Don't make the mistake of thinking I am like half our neighbors in their quest to make the lady wife a pillar of virtue and ignorance. Your father would not take kindly to me moving to another bedchamber now that we aren't seeking more children."

  He rolled his eyes, gaining another husky laugh from his mother.

  "My father would chase you down the hallway."

  "Which is how we lost more than one governess before being fortunate enough to employ some women with a sense of humor."

  Warren cleared his throat, but his mother only arched her eyebrow in wicked suggestion. It

  wasn't an abnormal conversation. At least as long as they were alone. His mother was the perfect model of society. But in private she was a pistol. It never ceased to amaze him the way she spoke about the most frank matters while looking like she was sitting in a church pew. But Lorena was something different than the women he'd discussed with his mother before. A protective urge rose up fast and furious.

  "Lorena is mine, Mother. I will deal with her." He pushed his chair back, but his mother's face froze him. Something was there that he had not seen directed at him before, a look he'd only glimpsed when she was glaring at his father. That expression promised Sebastian Rawlins hell.

  Pure, undiluted hell.

  "Yours? That girl belongs to no one. Her spirit is too strong. Keep trying to capture her and she will walk away from you no matter how many tears it costs her." His mother pushed back from her seat, rising to her full height. "A woman such as Lorena will only be caught by love. Don't be as pig-headed as your marauding father. Tell her you love her. That is the only thing that will hold her."

  "Love isn't for men, Mother."

  One dark eyebrow arched delicately. "If that is so, my son, you have already lost her."

  His mother swept from the room, leaving him to stare at the dishes. His appetite fled right on the coattails of hearing that Lorena was lost to him.

  He refused to accept that.

  They needed each other. He needed her. Snorting in frustration, he stood and headed for the dockside office of Rawlins shipping. His pace was brisk and his temper foul.

  Love was for women and little girls. It was an invention of men with small cocks who were

  looking for the means to coax women into their beds. He needed Lorena. Craved her
but he

  didn't call that love.

  In this life, you only ever going to love one woman...

  Tibetha's words rose from his memory so strong he paused and actually looked at his hand. The hair on his nape stood up, souring his temper further. With a muffled curse he stomped down the block to the Rawlins shipping office, slamming the door on his way inside.

  He wouldn't lie to her. Lorena deserved more, deserved better than dishonesty from him.

  But would she stay if he said it?

  Warren froze, temptation teasing him with the idea. If she believed in love, what was the harm in saying he loved her?

  There was harm in it. He sat down, his shoulders suddenly heavy. Honor wasn't something a man chose to sidestep in favor of gaining what he wanted. Lying to Lorena now would discount every apology he'd given for abducting her. He couldn't expect her to trust him if he resorted to deception.

  Which left him dreading the moment she'd ask him to make good on his promise to send her

  home. His gut twisted and he doubted he was going to be able to keep his promise. But he had to.

  Honor demanded it.

  "I am beginning to notice how alike you and Warren are." Lorena spoke softly but Brigitte understood her. The woman fluttered her eyelashes. Lorena actually stared at her because she performed it so precisely.

  "I promise. Only one last shop. You will need some gloves for tonight's dance."

  Brigitte pointed with her fan at another shop. They had been walking along the garment district for most of the morning, Warren's mother wielding her charm on the helpless shop owners

  ruthlessly.

  "Oh, I don't know how to dance."

  Brigitte froze. "You don't what?"

  "Dance. My stepfather forbade it or any gathering which allowed such."

  Warren's mother pushed her lips into a pout. It was a tiny sign of her temper and the only one she gave away. The fan snapped open, waving back and forth for a long moment.

  "I had heard the Puritans were modeling their homes more somberly but what is wrong with a bit of dancing?" She snapped the fan shut. "Well, we shall have to hurry now. You will need a few lessons before we depart."

  Brigitte didn't give her any time to protest. She swept her into the glove shop and out with a half-dozen pairs no less. The woman was as commanding as her son, and she did it all in a corset.

  Lorena found her fascinating. Somehow, she sensed a kindred spirit in his mother, one who took what she wanted when society couldn't see.

  Right or wrong, there was beauty in the way the woman took the world around her and did

  Exactly what she wanted with it. Lorena found herself studying it and craving the opportunity to practice what she'd absorbed.

  The bell on the front door of Rawlins shipping tinkled sometime in the late afternoon. Young Tomas entered, tucking his hat beneath his arm.

  "Card from your mother, Captain."

  Warren's suspicions rose instantly. "Thank you."

  The cream paper looked innocent enough but he'd been raised by a woman who excelled in

  getting her way by gentle persuasion.

  And every other calculated move she could figure out how to spring on the male members of the family. His father was forever roaring with frustration while their mother calmly pressed her will on him.

  Breaking the seal, he stared at the message.

  "Hell."

  Garrick looked across the offices at him. "What are yelling about? I seem to recall you retired early last night."

  The jealous note in his brother's voice should have pleased him. Instead Warren felt his throat tighten.

  "Mother's taking Lorena to the Templetons' tonight."

  Garrick's eyes widened. "Damn it. I thought we had at least a week before the competition got a crack at her."

  "You don't even have that long," Warren informed his brother.

  Pushing his chair back, Warren took his hat and headed out the door. His mother was on every guest list in town and several in the next few as well. Lorena would have suitors calling before the end of the week.

  Jealously speared through him. Hot and irritated, he pushed through the front door of his parents'

  home only to find it quiet.

  Of course.

  His mother knew him too well. Or believed she did. Taking the steps two at a time, he headed for his room. He'd already snuck into a British fort, going to a socialite gathering was just the next level of hell.

  Chapter Thirteen

  "She's British you say?"

  The whispers carried across the room. Lorena employed Brigitte's attitude of casual ease. It wasn't hard, the party interested her. Every detail was something undiscovered until now. She watched the flow of the girls' dresses and the way the gentleman retreated to one side of the room, their dark suits making it obvious when two of the girls invaded their male territory.

  But both gentler made their way to the dance floor. Every girl had a dance card dangling from her wrist. Some gentlemen hurried from lady to lady to inscribe his name on a variety of cards while others tried to take up as many spots on the same card as that lady would allow him.

  Lorena tucked her own dance card into the top of her glove. One gentleman eyed her in spite of that. The few lessons hastily given in her bedchamber had not bolstered her confidence enough to try her steps on anyone's unsuspecting toes. Besides, there was only one man who she was truly interested in being close to. Which meant she was a fool.

  "I need some air."

  Copying Brigitte's manner, Lorena simply headed toward an arched doorway looking as if she

  were in complete control of everything around her. The few people she passed actually swept out of her path.

  A smile lifted her lips when she made it to the veranda which circled the house. Doors were set every ten feet or so to allow the air in. Tonight they let the candlelight out. Lorena walked away from the light, her eyes looking up for the stars. Their twinkling light had kept her company for so many nights recently she missed the tranquility.

  "I quite agree."

  She froze. Not from fear but out of recognition. She didn't know the voice but she recognized something in it. That same core of strength that she could not seem to ignore in Warren.

  "Returning home has its draw, but my fickle emotions send me out into the night after a few hours surrounded by my own kind."

  Whoever he was, he remained in the shadows. Lorena felt his gaze on her. A tingle went down her neck, but it died before racing along her spine. She turned, searching for him.

  What stepped out of the darkness should have startled her. The man was huge. He was dressed head to toe in the most proper fashion of black coat with tails, but it didn't sit on him the same way it did the men inside. This man was stronger somehow, like Warren. The clothing a

  feeble attempt at blending in when the truth was, he was unique and suited to more rustic settings.

  She scolded herself for making the comparison.

  "You must be Miss St. John." He edged closer, his lips curving up in amusement. "My sisters were chattering about you most of the day."

  "You have me at a disadvantage, sir."

  He studied her for a long moment, his dark eyes striking her as mysterious. "I could only hope to be so fortunate."

  "Keep hoping, but that won't be any help to you."

  This time the chill traveled across her neck and down her spine. It rippled over her skin and sent her heart to beating faster. Warren appeared from the other side of the doorframe, his stature matching that of her company. They were well suited to one another. Both looking somewhat

  misplaced among the sedate dance cards and lace-edged fans.

  "Miss St. John doesn't remain off balance for long. She adapts expertly well." Warren captured her hand and placed a kiss on the back of it. His lips didn't even touch her skin and still sensation traveled up her arm. His gaze lowered to the slim section of skin that was visible above the top of her glove. A pl
eased look entered his eyes, and he raised his attention to her face so she could witness it.

  "Captain Rawlins. Such a delight."

  He frowned at the use of his rank. But their company chuckled.

  "I see she does adapt very well. Careful, Warren, I may have to try my hand at unseating you in her affections."

  "Really, sir."

  He laughed at her again. His hand snaking out to capture hers. Warren moved in a flash, his powerful body sliding between her and the

  man. Whoever he was he released her hand with another deep chuckle.

  "May I present Jasper Templeton, who is required inside to dance with his sister."

  Jasper raised an eyebrow at Warren. They stared each other down for a moment and she actually felt the tension in the air. It was like watching two thunderclouds collide.

  "Apparently I am." Jasper offered her a slight bow but the look he aimed at Warren was full of challenge. He turned in a flare of black tails and entered the dance. People moved out of his way instantly.

  "Was that quite necessary?"

  Warren looked far too pleased with himself. He offered her an expression that was anything but repentant. "With Jasper.. .yes. The man is too charming for his own good."

  "Or for your comfort."

  Warren shrugged. "Some women would enjoy knowing I was jealous enough to send one of my best friends off in favor of their company."

  "You treat your friends rather interestingly. Captain."

  She added the last word because she was annoyed. She was happy to see him. Her body rippling with awareness now that he was near.

  Instead of becoming irritated, Warren grinned at her. "Keep calling me Captain and I just might feel the need to set sail, with you along. I have business in Northfleet."

  "No you do not."

  He tilted his head. "You continue to underestimate my dedication to removing all obstacles in my path to marrying you."

  "And you still fail to understand that I do not want to be taken care of."