Devil gentled his touch, stroking her through the last of her release. Only then did he rise up onto his knees, bracing his hands beside her head and positioning himself at her entrance.
“Open your eyes,” he told her. “I want you to watch me as I make love to you.”
Jacqueline lifted her lids with considerable trouble, the world slowly coming into focus. Her husband was braced above her, his face set in harsh lines of desire.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her arms heavy as she reached to cup his face.
“Don’t thank me, yet. We’re not done.”
Devil was poised at his wife’s entrance, slick heat scalding the head of his arousal as he pressed forward. Slow, small increments at a time, he sheathed himself in her body, watching her face for signs of distress.
Jacqueline felt her body stretch to accommodate her husband. She braced for the pain, her hands gripping Devil’s shoulders, but it never came. There was just the sensation of being full, of being joined to another human being in the most intimate way possible.
Devil pulled back to her entrance. “God, you feel good,” he groaned, her passage gripping at him and her body objecting to his leaving.
“So do you,” Jacqueline whispered, watching her husband’s eyes close. He slid forward again, his body straining under her hands. Instinctively, her hips lifted, meeting his downward thrust.
Devil felt his control slip as his wife started moving beneath him. Together, they picked out a rhythm, their bodies rising and falling together. There was barely a breath between them. Eyes locked, they shared air tasting of their combined desire as skin slid over flesh.
Grasping his wife behind the knee, Devil pressed her leg to his hip. The new position opened her up, and he touched her womb.
Jacqueline gasped, her finger clutching at her husband’s arms.
“Too much?” Devil asked, pulling back and shortening his strokes.
“No.” Jacqueline shook her head vigorously. “More.”
Devil let the last of his control go. Quickening his strokes, he thrust his hips hard. Jacqueline was there to meet him, lifting her hips and taking all that he had to offer.
It wasn’t long before he felt the first stirrings of his release, a tingling that started at the base of his spine. Wanting her to join him, Devil reached between their bodies, circling her nub and stroking it with his fingertips.
This time Jacqueline knew what was happening, the release cinching her core before exploding out in waves. Above her, Devil continued to thrust, his movements becoming fierce and erratic.
The muscles of his wife’s passage clamped down around him, massaging Devil’s member as his release raced up his shaft. Head back, he roared her name as his body seized tight, locking his hips as he emptied himself deep inside of her.
They were locked together as Jacqueline shuddered through her climax, her body twisting and twitching. She could feel Devil’s release, the heat of his seed against her womb setting off little aftershocks of pleasure that radiated up through her core.
Eventually, Devil collapsed, dropping his head to his wife’s shoulder and burying his face in her neck. He was probably crushing her, but at that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care. She was panting, the rapid rise and fall of her breasts pressing against his chest. It meant she was breathing, and there was no rush for him to move.
Jacqueline wrapped her arms around her husband, twisting the ends of his hair around her fingertips as she stared up at the ceiling. He was hard and heavy, but the weight of him felt good, and she wasn’t eager for him to leave.
Eventually, Devil’s breathing slowed and he softened, slipping from his wife’s body and rolling onto his side, taking her with him.
They were quiet, neither one of them speaking as the room chilled and the scent of their lovemaking lingered. His wife traced little circles in the center of his chest, the movement growing slow and eventually stopping as she drifted off to sleep. Carefully, so as not to wake her, Devil pulled a blanket up over them and prepared to sleep himself.
Only, sleep wouldn’t come.
He was haunted by the memory of his wife’s scars, and of the man responsible for putting them there. Carver was dead, but Devil was very much alive. If his wife had thoughts of finding the one responsible, she need look no further than her own bed.
What would she do if she found out?
Devil didn’t know his wife well enough to answer, but he suspected such a betrayal would cut deep. He never should have started this!
Beside him, Jacqueline stirred, shifting closer and burying her face against his neck. Feeling his wife soft and warm beside him, his skin still smelling of her, Devil couldn’t bring himself to regret marrying her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Wake up, wife.”
“Hmmm…”
Devil smiled. His wife was an amazingly deep sleeper. He’d been working at waking her up for the past twenty minutes. Not that he minded. She was warm beneath the blankets, her body pliant in his hands as he nuzzled her neck, kissing the long column of her throat before finally capturing her mouth.
Devil.
Jacqueline didn’t open her eyes. Her husband’s name resounded in her head as he slipped between her lips. He filled her with his flavor, his body rising up and over her as he pressed her deeper into the mattress.
She could feel him hard against her hip, his arousal throbbing where it pressed into her flesh. She reached for him, wanting to draw him to her and feel him filling her once again.
Devil caught his wife’s wrist before she could wrap her fingers around him. One touch, and he’d be gone, pinning her to the bed and slipping between her legs.
The thought had merit, and it was a long moment that he was tempted to let her go and damn the consequences.
But he had other plans for them, something important he’d been thinking about since making love to his wife the night before.
Devil lifted his head. Flush from sleep, Jacqueline stared up at him with sleepy eyes, a smile lifting lips still wet with his kiss.
“Good morning.” Dear God, was that her voice? Jacqueline cleared her throat, surprised at the husky quality of her greeting.
“Sleep well?” Devil couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so well, or so long. It was well past the hour when he usually rose. Breakfast was sure to be cold, and Mrs. Thompson a bit put out at the waste of food.
Devil couldn’t bring himself to care.
Spending the morning sleeping with his wife, their limbs entwined, was worth the wrath of one small cook.
Jacqueline nodded. Stretching, she groaned as unfamiliar muscles ached in mild protest.
Devil frowned. “Sore?”
Jacqueline flushed. “A bit.”
“Come on, I have just the thing to loosen stiff muscles.” Devil rolled out of bed, naked.
Jacqueline got an eyeful of her husband’s backside. Her flush heated to a full-blown blush at his lack of modesty, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away.
Devil could feel his wife’s eyes on him as he stepped into a clean pair of trousers, pulling them up to his hips but leaving them unbuttoned. She remained in bed behind him, hair tousled and the sheet pulled up to her chest. “Are you coming?”
Jacqueline looked around the room. Her dress was on the floor, along with her underthings. Everything else was in her room across the hall.
“Here.” Devil handed her his shirt from last night. “Go and get dressed, and then meet me downstairs.”
“Where are we going?” Jacqueline slipped out of bed and into her husband’s shirt. He helped her with the buttons, his long fingers making quick work of them.
“You’ll see.” Devil stepped back. Hands on lean hips, he watched his wife gather her things. His shirt was big on her, the ends trailing down past her thighs, but not so long that he missed the tantalizing glimpse of her buttocks as she bent down to pick up a stray stocking.
Devil looked from his wife’s backside to
the bed. All it would take is two steps across the room, and he could have her tossed on her back and be thrusting between her legs.
The clock chimed the hour.
He was due at Purgatory, but there was something he needed to do first, and that meant leaving his wife to get dressed. Besides, she was his wife, he reminded himself, and he was free to enjoy her again tonight and every other night thereafter.
Jacqueline reached for the door when her husband’s voice stopped her.
“Have your maid move your things in here today.”
Jacqueline glanced over her shoulder. Devil stood watching her. His unbuttoned trousers revealed exactly where that dark line of hair ended.
An hour later, Jacqueline hurried down the stairs. Emme had greeted her with a knowing smile, but thankfully refrained from comment. The two had rushed through the morning’s toiletries, Jacqueline excited to see what her husband had planned for them.
Devil was waiting for her downstairs, stepping out of his study and offering her his arm. “Are you ready?”
“That depends. Where are we going?”
Devil didn’t answer. Gone was the playful lover she’d woken up with.
Jacqueline followed Devil into the library. The room had been cleared, the furniture pushed back along the walls and the rugs rolled up and removed.
“What’s this?”
Devil faced off with his wife. “I’m going to teach you how to defend yourself.”
Jacqueline blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“I won’t have you be a victim ever again.” The irony of such a statement coming from him was not lost on Devil. “Devil’s Acre is mine. You are mine, and anyone dumb enough to hurt you deserves what he will get.”
A slow, painful death.
“But I won’t always be with you.”
Jacqueline’s mind whirled, Devil’s declaration that she belonged to him swirling with the notion of learning to defend herself.
“I was alone the night they attacked my carriage,” Jacqueline admitted.
“They? There was more than one of them?”
Jacqueline nodded.
“I’ll be honest with you; there are limits to what I can teach you.” Fighting came as natural to Devil as breathing. He’d started by street fighting other boys for food, eventually getting tossed in the ring, and bare-knuckle boxing for coin. Finally, he’d moved up to managing fights, but he’d never lost his feel for the ring and he still enjoyed a good sparring match with Moose from time to time.
“Limits?” Jacqueline wasn’t sure she cared about limits. Anything was better than what she had now.
“It doesn’t matter how strong you are; anyone can be outnumbered. Chances are, nothing I teach you would have saved you from what happened, not if there was more than one.”
Jacqueline swallowed, her fingers twisting in front of her. “But you can teach me how to stop one man? How to hurt him?” There had been only one man that hurt her that night, only one she wishes she’d had the strength to stop.
“Yes.” Devil could see his wife thinking, the thoughts turning over in her head as she realized there was something she could do to save herself. Her hand went to her stomach, the bandage hidden beneath her dress.
Finally, Jacqueline nodded, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders. “Show me.”
Devil stepped forward, pleased when she held her ground.
“You have two disadvantages,” he said, circling her slowly. “First, men will always be stronger than you. So, we’ll work on the element of surprise. They won’t be expecting a woman to fight back, especially with any amount of skill. Second, your skirts hamper your movement. They prevent you from using the strongest muscles in your body—your legs—and make it hard for you to run.”
“So what do I do?” Jacqueline spun around in a slow circle, keeping her husband in sight.
“Short of wearing trousers,” Devil paused, momentarily distracted by the idea of his wife in form-fitting men’s pants, “I’m going to teach you where all men are vulnerable.”
Devil came to a stop in front of his wife, stepping into her space and grabbing her by the arms. Her eyes went wide, and he could see her heartbeat pulsing in her neck.
“All men are vulnerable between their legs. It doesn’t take much; even a glancing blow can bring a man to his knees. So, if a man gets close to you, bring your knee up hard and fast, and then run. Don’t stop, and don’t look back. Hit him hard enough and he’ll likely puke up his last meal. Not hard enough, and he should at least loosen his grasp and give you a chance to get away.”
“I…I don’t know if I can.” Jacqueline’s determination faltered at the thought of causing a man such pain -
“You, better than most, know what can happen if you don’t.”
Jacqueline paled.
“Remember what he did to you,” Devil hissed, seeing her hesitate. His voice fierce, he gave his wife a gentle shake. “Use it to give you the strength you need to save yourself.”
Jacqueline nodded, the scar on her belly burning beneath her bandage. “What else?”
“The eyes,” Devil said, releasing his wife and moving on to their next lesson. Some of these were illegal in the ring, but street fighting had no rules. “Always go for the eyes. Jab them with your fingers; rake them with your nails; or gouge them with your thumbs. Blind a man, however temporary, and you can get away.”
Jacqueline was watching him quietly, her eyes wide. She was still pale, but Devil was relentless. He couldn’t afford to go easy on her—not in this. These were the lessons that might save her, if ever he couldn’t.
“Now, I want you to try it.”
“What?”
Devil held up his hands, and motioned his wife towards him.
Jacqueline didn’t move.
“You need to know what it feels like to fight a man. Fear can cause you to panic, to forget what you’ve learned. We’re going to practice, and keep practicing until you feel comfortable with what I’ve taught you.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
Devil smiled. “You won’t.”
Devil reached for her. Jacqueline scrambled back, tripping over her skirts and slamming up against a piece of furniture. She didn’t look to see which one. Heart pounding, she turned and tried darting past her husband.
Devil wrapped one arm around his wife’s waist, pulling her back against his chest and wrapping his other arm across her chest, securing her arms to her side.
“Now what are you going to do?” Devil whispered, his lips pressed to his wife’s ear. She was breathing hard, but she hadn’t given up. “Everything I taught you still applies; the fact that I’m behind you changes nothing.”
Jacqueline clawed at the arm across her chest, hoping to get an arm free.
…the strongest muscles in your body—your legs…
Her husband’s words came roaring back. There was no way she could get her leg up high enough behind her, but maybe…
Jacqueline brought her heel down on her husband’s foot. The soft sole of her slipper was nothing compared to the sturdy leather of his boot, but the element of surprise worked in her favor. Her husband’s grip loosened, and Jacqueline wrenched herself free.
“Excellent, Jac! Again!”
Devil went in straight, grabbing Jacqueline by the arms and giving her a chance to apply what she’d learned. Her knee came up, hard and fast—just like he taught her.
The light weight of her day dress barely hampered her movement, and it was only because he was expecting it that Devil managed to turn in time, taking the hit to his thigh. She wasn’t holding back, and the pain warned Devil that he was going to have a bruise to show for today’s lesson.
Hooking his foot behind her ankle, Devil pulled his wife’s leg out from under her, pushing her off balance and taking her down to the floor.
“Ooff!” Jacqueline landed on her back. Painted across the ceiling overhead, winged cherubs flew with angels, unconcerned with her mortal struggles.
“Are you all right?” Devil braced his hands on either side of his wife’s head, lifting his upper body and staring down into her flushed face. “Did I hurt you?”
“You cheated,” Jacqueline wheezed, trying to catch her breath. She wasn’t hurt, but the breath had been knocked free of her.
“There is no cheating when it comes to protecting yourself.”
“I’ll try to remember that.”
“That’s enough for today.” Devil stood, offering his wife his hand and pulling her to her feet. “You did well.”
“I still lost.” Jacqueline shook out her skirts and brushed at her backside.
Devil placed a finger under his wife’s chin, lifting her face. Her eyes were slightly haunted, and he wondered if the lessons were worth the remembering she was likely to do. “You didn’t hesitate, and you improvised, two skills that are hard to learn—the rest, we’ll practice.”
Jacqueline nodded.
Devil straightened his coat. He was due at Purgatory in an hour, that gave him just enough time…
“Devil?”
“Hm?”
“What if you want to kill a man?”
He looked at her sharply. Her eyes were serious and her face set. “You mean what if you wanted to kill a man?”
Jacqueline’s chin went up. “Yes.”
“Anyone in particular?” There were still three men responsible for his wife’s kidnapping running loose: Moose, Finn, and Devil.
“No, but he wouldn’t have stopped until he was dead.”
Carver.
Jacqueline was right. Carver had been one sick bastard.
Devil hesitated, searching his wife’s face. She didn’t flinch, or look away. Reaching into his boot, he pulled out his knife, flipping the blade over into his palm and offering it to her, hilt first.
Jacqueline stared. Sunlight streamed in through the window and reflected off the blade.
“Take it.”
Jacqueline saw her hand rise, her fingers trembling slightly as they wrapped around the hilt. “It’s heavier than it looks.”
Devil let his wife examine the knife, watching over her carefully. It unnerved him to see her handling the blade he’d used to kill Carver. Poetic justice, perhaps? No, poetic justice would be if she used the knife to kill him, if ever she learned about their shared history.
The Bride of Devil's Acre Page 14
