Once Upon a True Love's Kiss

by Julie Johnstone

  His heart beat wildly in his chest, pounding like a cannon in heated battle. He wanted Prudence, wanted her more than a thousand duchies. Ever so slowly, he lowered his head and grazed her lips with his softly, hesitating before building up the courage to take her mouth and show her true love's kiss.

  The Pirate’s Duchess: Chapter Six

  Lord U. thundered into these offices COMPLAINING about Devon's increase in ILLEGAL wool exports, denouncing the BLACK REGENT as the devil's spawn. At this posting, Sherborne Mercury concedes revenue officers have yet to RECOVER large quantities of wool, rum, tobacco, salt, wine, tea, and cocoa RUMORED to be HIDDEN in the cliffs of Petit Tor.

  ~ Sherborne Mercury, 6 January 1809

  THE FEATHERLIGHT TOUCH OF TOBIAS'S LIPS broke through her fears. Prudence's legs weakened. She gave in to the almost-unbearably soft caress—exquisite in its torture of her longing flesh. She wanted Tobias. But before she could give herself to him again, she was determined to make sure his lies and sacrifices were at an end.

  And that started with Basil.

  She broke away, inhaling an invigorating breath. She had to convince Tobias not to harm him. "You must promise me one thing."

  "Name it," he said, reaching out to pull her back to him.

  She licked her lips, delighting in teasing him, especially in order to get her way. "I need your promise that you won't fight Basil."

  His eyes sharpened like daggers, then visibly darkened. "You think of him now?"

  She wouldn't rest until he promised not to harm his best friend, the man who'd become one of her closest friends, as well, whom she'd planned to spend the rest of her life with, if not for Tobias's return. Basil had been good to her. Loyal. Compassionate. He'd taught her how to evaluate numbers, maintain ledgers, and manage her estate. If not for Basil, there would have been nothing left of Blackmoor. He deserved to be saved.

  The tension between them grew thick, suffocating. She struggled to breathe when he didn't answer and pushed Tobias away before she lost herself, body and soul. And oh, how she wanted to lose herself in his arms. "I had hoped you meant what you said—"

  "Have his lips worshiped yours like this?" Tobias asked, gently yanking her close. His mouth descended on hers, quieting her protests, urgently exploring, teasing, nibbling, driving her to distraction. In truth, she was shocked by the intimacy, and yet, she gloried in it, in the velvety warmth and the sensations he provoked.

  Good heavens! Nothing had ever been as addictively satisfying. She had compared Basil to Tobias at every turn and found the earl lacking every time.

  New spirals of ecstasy rippled through her. He drew back, giving her time to catch her breath. Her heartbeat drummed in suspended time, as if yesterday and this moment joined forces against her. He'd broken her heart, but he had come home. His diabolical secrets crushed her like a ship breaking up on a reef. For too long she'd carried a yoke of grief and anguish in her heart. No longer.

  Her conflicting emotions amplified within her. His kiss, his touch, felt surprisingly sincere and agonizingly delightful. She yearned for more, another taste, an excuse to forget the past two years, to yield to the inferno igniting her soul.

  But he hadn't answered her question, hadn't agreed to her one request.

  She placed her hand over his chest and pushed him away, needing to put distance between them. Would she wake up to discover it was her wedding day all over again, that this, this momentary bliss with Tobias, had all been a dream to sort out her feelings for Basil?

  No, her heart cried. Tobias was real. He was alive—and here—in her arms. He'd championed death. He'd come home to her, and he was offering her another chance to attain everything she'd ever desired—children, more time with him, the love they'd been denied. If only she could allow herself to forget—

  "You haven't promised not to hurt Basil." God help her, the hollow ache inside her grew.

  "Prudence," he offered huskily.

  Her heart hammered foolishly in her chest. She would never be able to live knowing Basil had suffered because of her at Tobias's hands.

  "If I could reverse time, I would. Markwick and I have always been friends. That will never change. And I would never jeopardize that friendship, unless you were caught in the middle. Which you are, through no fault of your own, my dove."

  "But I will not come between you. Basil knows how much I love you." Her eyes widened in surprise as blood coursed through her veins. She hadn't intended to speak the words aloud.

  God help me!

  "You… love me? After all that I've done?" A tic worked his jaw. He leaned his forehead against hers and inhaled deeply, stroking her hair, expelling air in his lungs on a sigh. Then he took her hand and kissed her palm. "Everything I've done has been for you. If you need to hear that I will not harm Markwick, you have my vow. I will do anything for you. Anything."

  Tears gathered in her eyes. His nearness, his touch, and the promise he made her were gifts of extraordinary treasure. "Some sins cannot be forgotten."

  "But can they be forgiven?"

  She wanted to tell him they could and ease his burden. But physical agony cut through her.

  "I love you, Prudence."

  Hearing the words she'd long desired to hear, her inner torment released at last. She choked on a sob, her heart hammering in her ears. She tried not to swoon or burst into tears as she inhaled his leather-and-spice scent. Could she trust that what he said was true after so many lies?

  He pressed a kiss to her palm. "Believe what you must," he said as if reading her thoughts. "People can change. I give you my word as a gentleman—as your husband—I will do everything in my power to make sure Markwick isn't harmed."

  Her heart whispered, Believe. She took a deep breath. "I believe you."

  "Do you?" he asked, reaching to twirl a strand of her hair between his fingers. He brought the tendrils to his lips and kissed them gently. His eyes smoldered with disturbing power, like a man who was not used to being defied.

  Her brow furrowed slightly. "You are not the man I married, are you?"

  "No. But you are not the woman I married, either," he said, glancing at her lips. He leaned down, hovering near enough that his breath tickled her flesh. "You are better. Stronger. Bolder. An untamable fire igniting my soul."

  She chewed her lower lip, struggling to suppress shivers of desire coursing through her limbs. Every word strummed her courage, liberating her emotions.

  "I came back for you, my dove." He touched her neck and gooseflesh flickered down her spine. "Only you."

  She'd only ever wanted to be loved, cherished again. If what he said was true, he'd selflessly denied himself access to home and the comforts of his own bed in order to fulfill a debt. What kind of man did that? A compassionate one.

  "Wait," she said, lifting the chain over her head and unclasping his ring. "This belongs to you." She reached for his hand and placed the ring on his finger. "With this ring, you can be whole again."

  He smiled sadly. "Only you can do that."

  Like the storm that had overtaken them on the plateau, she glanced down at his ringed hand before giving in to passion and wrapping her arms about his neck, pressing the contours of her body against his. He needed no further encouragement. His mouth covered hers hungrily, ravishing her, shattering all thoughts of the past. Blood pounded in her brain, leaped to her heart, and made her legs tremble.

  He turned her toward the stern windows and sat down with her on his lap. "I cannot live without you," he said, nuzzling her ear, trailing kisses down to her throbbing pulse at the nape of her neck.

  "Then don't," she said breathlessly. "Promise you will never leave me again."

  "I won't." A low growl rumbled from his throat as he explored her mouth with his tongue. He drew back with heartrending tenderness. "Never."

  "Even if you are caught and—" she suppressed a shiver of delight as his fingers moved toward her breast, glorying in every inch until he reached her nipple "—tried as a pirate?"

 
; Laughter rumbled from his chest. "Is that what you're worried about?"

  Her stomach churned with anxiety and frustration, mixed with need and desire. "One of the things."

  "There's no need to worry. I have planned for every eventuality."

  Anxiety shot through her. No one is that proficient. "You didn't plan on me and Basil."

  "No," he said agreeing, kissing her softly. "But if it will help you relax, I will promise you one more thing."

  The heat between them pulsated in the silence like a living thing. "What?"

  "If the trap Markwick and I set for Underwood succeeds, I will hang up my cloak and come home."

  She stared at him, riddled with suspicion. Was he mocking her?

  "I'm serious. I'll come home for good."

  Good God, he'd managed to shock her and please her at once. "You'll cast aside the Fury for Blackmoor?" Her pulse quickened. "You'd do this for me?" A delightful shiver swept through her.

  "Aye, if we succeed in putting Underwood out of business forever."

  She licked her lips, feeling the slender, delicate threads of forgiveness quicken inside her. She'd lost him once. She couldn't bear to lose him again. They could be together. Live as one. Start a family. It was more than she could possibly take in. It was everything she'd wanted and more, overwhelming her with feelings almost too powerful to control.

  "There isn't anything I want more."

  He silenced her mouth with his kiss, a kiss so galvanizing that it sent a tremor into her core. He strummed her like a proficient musician bringing a neglected harp to life, producing music so joyous it took her by storm. And oh, how marvelously she wanted to be thrummed! Her pleasure soared when he swept her up, weightless, in his arms and carried her to his bunk. He laid her down on the black sheets, then joined her, molding his body to hers.

  His uneven breathing felt hot against her cheek. He was all male, so bracing, strong, and considerate as he inflamed her senses, stroking, pleasuring her, eager to share what they'd both been denied for so long. And still it wasn't enough.

  "Don't make me wait, Tobias," she said, tearing at his cravat, tugging him down to her quivering lips.

  He kissed her again, then nibbled her ear. "I cannot wait even if I wanted to."

  Prudence arched into him, the merest pressure of his body on hers awakening a response deep within her that practically drove her out of control. He pushed her closer to the edge when his fingers brushed over her thigh. The slightest touch drove her wild, making her want him to unleash the captive inside her as he moved higher and higher under her gown to the home she wanted him to inhabit. Heat rippled underneath her skin straight to her center. She squirmed beneath him, urging him on, stroking the tendons of his neck, kneading the muscles of his arms, matching his urgency with her own.

  He fumbled with his breeches, releasing his manhood. His hot, hard length branded her thigh as he spread her legs with his knee. A golden wave of anticipation rippled through her. She couldn't wait any longer.

  "It's been too long," she cried. "Hurry, Tobias."

  She ran her nails up and down his spine, digging into his back, cupping his buttocks, clenching around him when he entered her. Her senses spun as if awakened from a dream. She cried out, gasping in sweet agony, breathing in soul-drenching drafts of air as he began to move inside her. This was love. This was where they excelled. Here. Now. Joined together as one, moving, riding wave after wave of delicious ecstasy.

  Consumed by passion, he kissed her soundly, filling her with a sense of completeness. The searing need within them had been building for hours, if not years. And there was no denying how easily and quickly they ascended to the stars.

  As she plummeted to earth, Prudence basked in the gift he'd given her—his seed—hope for a future together. Filled with a sense of uncontrollable joy, she wrapped her legs around him as he collapsed on top of her.

  "You do know what this means," he said in the aftermath of their raw act of possession.

  "Our clothes are wrinkled?"

  He laughed and rolled to his side, on the cusp of succumbing to the numbed sleep of a satisfied lover. "That's the least of my worries."

  "What then?" she asked, closing her eyes, relishing the drugged euphoria sweeping over her, as well.

  "We'll have to take our time… next time."

  The Pirate’s Duchess: Chapter Seven

  BRANDY COVE provided a hint at the BLACK REGENT's identity when several revenue officers discovered JOURNALS attributed to the smuggler's activities. Alas, sources close to Trewman's Exeter Flying Post gleaned INFORMATION from within the books MALIGNING Lord U. who, for privacy's sake, urged this office to maintain his CONFIDENTIALITY.

  ~ Trewman's Exeter Flying Post, 1 March 1809

  TOBIAS STOOD FULLY DRESSED IN DUCAL clothing at the end of his bunk and gazed down at his wife. Lost in slumber, her hair spread across the pillow under her head like an angelic halo, he exhaled a sigh of contentment. With little to no sleep, Prudence had proven she was no longer the innocent creature he'd taken to his marriage bed. She was bolder, adventurous, demanding to be mastered with a sensuality that captured his soul.

  Silhouetted by his black sheets, she was a feast for the eyes, a delicious confection, a pirate's duchess contoured in glory, and it was this image of her he burned into his mind. Her cultured allure, sensually tempting body, had stolen his breath away. Her full, plump lips understood instinctively how to mate with his, and had successfully made him forget the vow he'd given his father—for a time.

  How long he'd stood gazing down at her, he couldn't be certain. He'd been rooted to the spot for several moments, desiring nothing but to resume his place by her side, to wrap her in his arms and make love to her again and again. But life had a way of intervening.

  He still had Underwood to deal with.

  He'd agreed to meet Markwick at the Downs, and when he did, he would set a plan into motion that involved several players to take down Underwood. After years of studying the marquess's tactics, he was able to foresee the man's every move. Underwood was predictable. Tobias's safe return to Prudence depended on the truth of that knowledge.

  His heart heavy with regret, he bent to grab his boots and spied the ring on his finger.

  "With this ring, you can be whole again," she'd said.

  Curse and damn me.

  He'd also given Prudence his word, promising never to leave her again. He loved her with all his heart, body, and mind. But Markwick waited to help him end Underwood's schemes and to that end, he could ultimately keep Prudence safe. He prayed she had it within herself to forgive him one last time because he'd made up his mind. If he was going to return to Blackmoor, nothing could get in the way of his meeting with Markwick at the Downs.

  His one true sin? He was the sixth Duke of Blackmoor, a descendant of men who were loyal to a fault, despite how his abandonment of Prudence might have looked. He'd made a vow to his father that couldn't be broken. He'd made a vow to help the innocent people affected by Underwood's corruption, to make that evil known and see justice served. And he'd made a vow to his wife that he fully intended to keep.

  "Good-bye, my love," he whispered. "I will return to you."

  Prudence inhaled deeply but didn't open her eyes. She smiled happily and snuggled deeper into the mattress and released a seductive sigh.

  He took out his pocket watch—half past four bells—then eyed Prudence one more time, memorizing her face. "If I don't return, move heaven and earth to find happiness."

  He strode to the door, pulled the latch, opened the portal, and closed it soundlessly behind him.

  Pye immediately greeted him in the passageway. "Are ye ready, Cap'n?"

  "As ready as I'll ever be."

  His first mate handed him his effects. Tobias strapped a leather belt brandishing a sheathed dagger around his waist, then flipped his cloak over his shoulders. He snatched up his cane.

  "Will this be the day we put Ol' Woody out of business for good?"

&n
bsp; Tobias grinned. Pye's nickname for Underwood would give the old man fits. "The Downs is the perfect landscape for a duel: the land is clear and offers little opportunity for ambush. If we are to coax Underwood into revealing that he hired someone to have me killed, and was responsible for more deaths than my perceived one, our so-called bitter squabble over the duchess must go off without a hitch. We must make the marquess believe that he will lose his son if he doesn't intervene."

  "Will the earl go along with your plan to deceive his father?"

  Tobias couldn't say. Markwick had never been close to his father, though he'd looked up to Underwood and spoken of him affectionately when they'd been children. They were men now with responsibilities, people reliant on their living. "We are men of action, he and I. You can count on it."

  "May it be so." Pye's uneven gait followed Tobias to the companionway. "And the other matter?"

  "What other matter?" Tobias laughed. "Or do you forget there are several?"

  "There is that," he admitted dryly. "And priority must prevail. The duchess, in particular."

  "What about her?" His annoyance couldn't be measured. "I leave you here to ensure she stays out of trouble. I will not allow her to be put in harm's way. Are we clear?"

  The crusty seaman nodded, his mouth fixed in a tight line. Tobias understood the man's exasperation. But his leg, shot off below the knee in a cannon misfire, prevented the man from foraying out on missions like this one.

  "You are the only one I trust to keep Prudence safe." He patted Pye's shoulder. "Be a good man and see it done, eh?"