by Kate Pearce
She must have made a slight noise, for he turned to see her. Jane stepped back into the shadows, and he moved across the room, entering the passageway.
He closed the door behind him, and the faint light of the candle illuminated the space. “I think there is a matchmaking ghost in this castle. I had intended to join the others at dinner, but I kept feeling cold air around my shoulders and neck. It was unbearable, and it only went away when I left the dining room and came here.”
His gaze passed over her white nightgown, and she saw his eyes darken with interest. “Should I leave you, Jane?”
She didn’t want that at all. His very presence made her imagine all the things she had dreamed of earlier. And the need to be in his arms, to feel his kiss upon her mouth, was stronger than any common sense.
She moved to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. It was the only invitation he needed.
Chapter 5
In the dark space, no one knew they were here. There was no risk of discovery, and Jane gloried in the sensation when his mouth came down upon hers. His kiss was demanding, reckless in the way he possessed her. She kissed him back with all the fervor in her heart, surrendering to the needs rising within.
“My God, you smell good,” he breathed, lowering his face to her throat. The scent of jasmine seemed to fill the air, and she gripped his hair, wanting so much more.
Devon never stopped touching her, and she felt his hands move down her back to her hips. Beneath the nightgown, she wore nothing at all. She knew she ought to feel ashamed of this, but nothing could have stopped her from being with this man.
Whether it was the herbs within the soap or an enchantment of some kind, she didn’t know. But she loosened the ties of the nightgown, drawing his hand below the fabric. Only his touch seemed to ease the desire, and she needed him desperately.
Her body was so deeply aroused, she couldn’t help but moan as he kissed her bare shoulder, his mouth moving lower. Her nightgown was falling against one shoulder, and he drew her hips to his. Against the juncture of her thighs, she felt his heated erection, and she wrapped one leg around his waist, not even knowing why.
He paused a moment, and then lifted her up. Her nightgown was tangled, but he pressed her against the back wall, guiding her other leg around his waist. He kissed her hard, claiming her mouth and her tongue, until she could hardly grasp a coherent thought. There was only this man and the arousal coursing inside her.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me. But I just…needed you so much. Bronson could have killed me today, and I cannot stop thinking of it.”
“I wasn’t going to let that happen. No matter what.”
“I knew that, once you arrived. But after Marjorie left to get help, I was terrified that I would die alone.” She kissed him again, offering him the taste of her lips.
He took from her, answering with his own mouth. When he trailed his lips over her throat, she felt a thousand shivers cross over her, as if her skin were opening beneath him.
“You’re safe with me,” he murmured. “I promise you.”
But the words and the kisses weren’t enough. Instead, it felt as if dormant needs had flared to life. She was falling in love with this man, and she wanted so much more.
Voices of warning started to intrude, but she shoved them back. Right now, she was in the arms of Devon Lancaster, the man whose touch she craved.
He continued to kiss a path lower, edging the upper swell of her breasts. For a moment, he paused, and she felt her body’s disappointment. She touched his hair, guiding him lower, until his mouth covered her erect nipple.
The blast of heat roared through her as he licked the edge, gently suckling the tip. The pulling sensation made her moan, and she felt him adjusting her nightgown, freeing her from the twisted fabric.
“Don’t stop,” she breathed, arching as he sucked hard. Shimmering sensations flooded through her, and she was dimly aware that she was wet between her legs. To her shock, he pressed her back against the wall, moving his fingers between her thighs. She let out a mewling cry, and he began to stroke her intimately.
The wild feelings grew hotter, and she could hardly bear the sensations. This man’s wicked touch was pulling apart her inhibitions until her breathing was coming in quick gasps. He slid a single finger inside and sucked against her nipple gently biting the tip as he caressed her.
“Devon,” she pleaded, her voice hardly more than a whisper.
And then, he slid another finger inside. She was so wet, it didn’t hurt at all. Instead, he seemed to reach inside her, finding every secret desire she’d ever held. He knew how to touch her, how to thrust his fingers as his mouth stimulated her. In the darkness, she lost all control, giving herself over to the pleasure of his touch.
He was murmuring endearments against her flesh, telling her how much he desired her. “Let yourself go, Jane. Trust that I will hold you.”
He quickened the pace, his hand stroking and plunging, while his mouth claimed hers once again. She was straining hard, wanting him so badly.
And then, it seemed as if her body metamorphosed, unfolding as a shudder of sensation rocked through her. She let out a gasp, shaking as the climax rolled over her, her body shattering as his fingers remained buried inside.
Gently, he lowered her to stand, and her knees buckled. “Help me back to my room,” she bade him.
Devon reached for the chamberstick with the fading candle and then walked with her back up the stairs. He pulled the door handle and held it so she could enter her bedroom.
For a moment, she stood beside him, feeling like the melted candle wax. He was going to let her go, but that wasn’t what she wanted.
No longer did she feel like herself. It was as if the soap contained herbs that deepened every sensation of touch. And if he left her now, she would regret it for the rest of her life.
Gently, she led him into her room, pulling the secret door shut until it gave a slight click. Devon stood for a moment, his expression heated. “If I don’t go back, Jane, I am never leaving your side. Not tonight. Not ever.”
The weight of his words broke through to her. She knew he needed an heiress to marry, and her father’s inheritance might provide that. But then again, there was no way of knowing how much she would receive.
Did she want to marry this man? Did she want to spend her days and nights with him at her side?
The answer was yes. She could not imagine anyone else. Silently, she moved to the door on the opposite side of the room. He followed her there and was about to turn the knob, when she reached out and turned the key in the lock.
His hand froze in place, and he stared at her. “Is this what you want?”
Never in his life had Devon felt so aroused by a woman. It was as if Jane had stolen away a piece of his soul. She stepped away from the door and pulled the pins from her hair. It fell around her shoulders in a light brown veil that hung to the middle of her back. There was a slight curl to it, and he reached out to touch a few strands.
Her face was pale but she took his hands and guided them to her loose nightgown. Holding his hands, she helped him push back the fabric until it pooled on the floor, leaving her naked body exposed.
The scent of her skin was driving him to madness. The aroma of jasmine filled his senses until he was aware of nothing else. He lifted her into his arms and brought her back to the bed. By locking the door, she had given her consent.
He knew that he ought to stop her now, to leave and let her remain untouched. But her ardent response in the passageway had driven him past the brink. He intended to marry this woman, and devil that he was, he would never turn away from her offering.
Her body was slender, with full breasts and nipples the color of a spring rose. Her waist dipped before it swelled to hips and a curved bottom that was made for his hands. He needed to taste every inch of her, and he wanted to slide his erection deep into her wet entrance.
Devon brought her to the
bed, laying her down before sitting beside her. He removed his jacket and waistcoat, untying his cravat and pulling his shirt off. Jane reached up to trace his bare skin, her palms moving over his chest.
“You’re strong,” she said softly. Her fingers outlined his pectoral muscles, and he felt his heart pounding with need. Though he supposed she might be frightened of seeing him fully naked, he was beyond all control. He stripped his breeches and the remainder of his clothes until he was naked. Then he moved atop her, keeping his weight on his forearms.
Jane smiled at him, and in her blue eyes, he saw trust and desire. She moved her hands down his back to his hips, shifting her body against him so that his manhood thrust between them. The motion made him grit his teeth, for he was stone hard right now. It was all he could do not to lift her knees and sink deep inside her.
Instead, he turned his attention toward worshipping her body. He kissed a path down to her breasts, flicking his tongue against her nipple until her hands fisted the coverlet. With his hands, he took her hips and tilted them up, sliding his palms over the curve of her bottom. She parted her legs, and he saw the glistening pearl of her.
“I’m not going to stop touching you,” he warned. “I’m going to fill your body and join with you until you cannot feel anything but me.”
Jane didn’t doubt that she was caught beneath a spell of some kind. This man held her in his thrall, and when he bent his mouth to taste her intimately, she bit back a scream. He was gentle, teasing her hooded flesh with his tongue, and he guided her legs over his shoulders. Sensations coursed through her, and she felt her body coming apart. “Devon, I d-don’t know if I can bear this.” She was shaking now, but he never stopped working her flesh with his tongue. The raw sensation overtook her, and she gasped as the flood of release crescendoed through her in a wave of pleasure.
He let her ride out the storm and then lowered her hips again. Between her legs, she felt the slight pressure of his manhood, and he slowly pressed against her wetness. They fit together easily, and even when he claimed her virginity, she felt almost no pain at all.
Devon moved slowly, gently sliding in and out. His face held the tension of a man who was riding the edge of arousal. She moved in counterpoint to his thrusts, meeting him, and heard his swift exhale.
“Careful, Jane,” he warned. “I’m trying to be gentle with you.”
But she wanted to make him feel the same breathless release she’d been given. She squeezed her inner walls, feeling the pressure of his length, and was rewarded with his groan.
“Did that hurt you?”
“God, no. Do it again.”
She obeyed, squeezing tightly as he entered and withdrew. His mouth came down over her nipple again, and the sensation only deepened the pleasure of having him plunge inside her. She gripped his hair, arching her back as she thrust back. He let out a growl and penetrated again, punishing her by sucking hard against her breast.
A bolt of heat shot through her, and she lost control of herself. She no longer cared about anything else, but instead, she wrapped her legs around him and encouraged him to move faster.
This time, he did, and she let him ride her hard, squeezing against his erection as he pumped inside her. She felt him straining, and he demanded, “I want to feel you come apart again. With me inside you.”
It was strangely empowering to realize that he was not going to claim his own release until she did. She stared into his eyes, letting go of her body, and when he began quickening his pace, he seized her bottom and held her hard as he thrust. She felt the rise of her body, and shifted her legs again, raising higher until she felt him pressing against a sensitive place.
He sensed what she wanted and continued to hold her while he penetrated her, stroking her on the inside.
The tide of need swept her under again, and she convulsed beneath him, feeling him grind against her until her body quaked and she trembled with the force of her release. His handsome face was grim, continuing to pump inside her until her tremors stilled. Only then did he spill himself within her.
Her body jerked with a few aftershocks, but she kept her legs wrapped around him, needing his body upon hers. He remained inside her, and she tried not to let herself worry. He had promised that he would never leave her. And though she had let him seduce her—or perhaps she had seduced him—she told herself that she was not at all like her mother.
Everything would be different with Devon. He’d said so, hadn’t he?
But even with their bodies joined together, she couldn’t help but worry that she had made a grave mistake.
Devon knew that others were going to come looking for Jane. At the very least, a maid would intrude, and he could not allow her to be embarrassed like that. For a while, he let her sleep, tracing the outline of her sleeping form. She was resting peacefully, and yet, this day could have ended in tragedy.
Although Lord Banfield had ensured that Bronson was taken into custody, Devon couldn’t let go of his protective instincts. This woman had threaded her way into his heart, and he hardly cared if she was an heiress or not. She was both vulnerable and brave in the face of danger. He could never imagine walking away from her, nor did he want to.
But at this moment, it was too dangerous to remain in her bed.
He brushed a soft kiss against her shoulder, coaxing her to roll over. Then he took her in a kiss, aware of when her drowsiness faded and she grew conscious of what they had done.
In her eyes, he saw the worry, though she rested one hand against his shoulder. “Don’t be afraid,” he said quietly. “It was never my intent for it to go this far. But I do want to marry you, Jane.”
The tension only heightened, instead of joy. “And what if you find out that I am not an heiress? What if my inheritance is only a handful of pounds?”
He had already considered this. “It doesn’t matter. We will find a way to get by.”
Her blue eyes grew uncertain. “Your father may not give permission for you to wed me. If he learns you have offered for a vicar’s daughter—”
“An earl’s daughter,” he corrected.
“His by-blow, you mean.” Jane pulled back from him, drawing the covers over her body. She closed her eyes a moment, and admitted, “They will not support a marriage between us.”
“I do not require my father’s permission to wed, and you are also of age to marry.” He recognized her fears and added, “You don’t have to worry about me leaving you, Jane. I know that I want you.”
She sat up, still clutching the bedclothes to her body. “You say that now. But if I drive a wedge between you and your family, you will come to resent me. I don’t know what I was thinking, letting this happen.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I let myself fall beneath your spell, believing in stories. But we are from two different worlds.”
“Don’t,” he warned. Devon sat up and took her hands in his, kissing her again. “You’re allowing fear to rule your head. I want to marry you. The only question you should ask yourself is if you want to wed me.” He stroked her fingers, bringing them to rest on his shoulders.
“I couldn’t bear it if you grew to hate me,” she said.
Before he could answer, a knock sounded at the door. “Jane? It’s Marjorie. May I come in?” The doorknob turned, and Devon muttered a curse.
“Just a moment,” Jane said.
Devon nodded toward the passage way, telling her without words that he had to leave. He handed Jane her nightgown, swiftly pulling on his clothing as fast as he could. With his clothing unbuttoned, he took his shoes and darted into the passageway, closing the door behind him.
He should have left, but instead, he heard Jane unlock her room and allow Marjorie to enter.
“I came to see if you were all right,” Marjorie began. A moment later, she said, “You look dreadful. Your mouth is swollen, and your hair is everywhere.”
Devon smiled in the darkness, knowing exactly why Jane appeared so bedraggled. He adjusted his clothing, fumbling with the bu
ttonholes in the dark. But he was unprepared when he heard Jane burst into tears.
“I’m not all right, Marjorie,” she sobbed. “I’m not.”
He froze in place and heard the young woman offer comforting sounds. “There, there. Of course you’re not. That horrible man tried to kill you, and I was practically useless to help you.”
But Devon pressed his hand against the cool wall, realizing that Jane was not crying about the danger. She was weeping out of regret.
He let out a slow sigh, realizing the extent of what he’d done. Jane had come to him, and he’d taken advantage of her innocence, seducing her thoroughly. And now that she was ruined, no doubt she feared she would become the same as her mother.
He would never let that happen. But it did seem that she had become a reluctant bride, not believing that he would follow through on his word.
Devon finished dressing in the dark, determined to prove her wrong. She didn’t believe she was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. And how could she believe it, when they had known each other a matter of days?
Yet, with her, he felt the loneliness fade away. When they had spent the time stranded in the wine cellar together, he was startled to realize that he’d enjoyed being with her. He’d played cards and danced in the library with her, savoring every moment. Why wouldn’t he want to spend months and years at her side?
Marjorie’s voice drew his attention, and he overheard her say, “Don’t worry about anything, Jane. I promise you, it will be all right.”
It would be, he vowed to himself. And he intended to speak with Lord Banfield, to ask permission to marry her.
But first, there were some things he needed to do.
Chapter 6
One day later
“You do not have my permission wed Miss Hawkins,” Lord Banfield said. The earl sat back in a chair, behaving as if Devon were discussing the weather. “I fear you have been misled by Mr. Hunt.”
