by Anthology
Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how lost she’d been without him. His closeness thawed more than her body, and her emotions over spilled as he held her. Tears tightened her throat, and she had to swallow twice before speaking. “How c-can you say that to m-m-me?” Knowing she’d hate herself when the sun rose wouldn’t stop the words from tumbling out. “Love? You speak of l-l-love, yet you have no idea what the word means.”
“It means everything and nothing.”
“You’re making no s-sense. Maybe you’re the one who needed to get warm.” She snuggled closer, finally remembering what it was like to be able to feel her limbs.
His palm cupped her cheek, guiding her face upward so he could kiss her forehead, the tip of her nose, her mouth. Moving her lips apart, he took command of the kiss, stroking his tongue against hers until her entire body jerked beside him. The only time that happened was when she was on the verge of coming for him.
He’d barely touched her, certainly nothing below the waist, and yet, she couldn’t deny how he called to her body. It was as much a traitor as her heart—already willing to forgive him if it meant he’d touch her and kiss her until the ache stopped hurting.
“It’s everything because you filled each moment I was gone.” His fingers tore at her tank to pull it over her head, and then attacked the button and zipper on her pants before shoving them off along with her panties.
On the verge of objecting, she realized she already had the shirt he’d donned shoved up to his armpits and the fly of his pants open, and she was stroking the thick shaft of his cock. “And nothing? Why was it nothing?” She gave up fighting her need for him and immersed herself in his scent, his touch, his—love. Licking his chest, she raised her top leg, throwing it over his thigh as he urged her legs apart.
“Fuck, I can smell how wet you are for me.” His fingers dipped between her thighs, sliding in the wetness only he could elicit. One finger and then another filled her channel as his thumb slid across her pulsing clit. “And nothing, because that is what I am without you.”
“But you left with no explanation.” She stroked him in time as he filled her and panted against his mouth.
He pulled his fingers free just long enough to rid himself of his pants, and then he rolled her onto her back. Moving between her legs, he pushed her thighs wide and shoved in deep. Not in one painful thrust, but a handful of powerful drives to stretch her sex to accommodate him. “To protect you. I got word the buyer for the Devil’s Heart was going to double-cross you. In case I was wrong and I was killed, I didn’t want you to know anything about it. Plausible deniability, if you were questioned.”
“I don’t need protecting,” she panted as she clawed at his back, arching to get closer. The tips of her nipples brushed his chest, and she moaned. Strings of pleasure connected her nipples to her clit, and she licked his chest, scraping her teeth along his flesh. She wanted her mark on him, just as surely as her back and ass would wear the marks of his passion from the rocks beneath her. He drove into her, faster and harder. His fist in her hair held her in place, and her pussy fluttered around him.
He shoved his free hand beneath them; she thought he meant to cushion her from the rocks. She opened her mouth to tell him he needn’t worry, but a groan of pure delight came out instead. One of his fingers gathered her wetness then circled the pucker of her ass. He worked it inside, stretching her. A bite of pain. A bite of pleasure.
“You’re mine to protect. It’s the deluxe package you signed up for when you told me you loved me.”
Hearing the honesty in his voice ripped away the last layer that separated them. His erection dragged across the swollen nub of her clit, and her pussy and ass clamped down on him as she came.
Her moan rebounded off the chamber walls as he filled her core. His cock jerked inside her as he sealed his lips over hers. Time stopped as she gave herself over to him again. Pleasure passed between them, magnified by their love, by her forgiveness.
Every ounce of her sucked at him greedily, wanting every drop of his seed because it was hers. Jolting, her spine shuddered as he pulled free. First from her ass then her pussy. Gathering her close, he rolled over until she lay on top of him.
He took her weight and held her tightly as their bodies finally relaxed.
She knew sleep was moments from claiming her, but she had something to say. “Don’t think I’ve totally forgiven you for AWOLing on me. No matter how noble the reasoning.”
“I wouldn’t dream of assuming I’m off your shit list, my tomb raider.”
His satisfaction danced all around her. The sun would warm them as a new day dawned. And with the Devil’s Heart in her bag, they’d dig their way out and find their future. A new beginning with the man she loved by her side for the next adventure…
The Highwayman’s Treasure
Emma Jay
Julia Verity drifted around the table piled with cakes, wafers, and grapes, tugging at the neckline of her borrowed gown. If she were a better seamstress, she could have taken in the garment at the bust, though it would still sag at the waist. Of course, the garment was a horrid shade of lavender, not the least bit flattering to her red hair and freckles, so altering it might convey the idea that it belonged to her, when it was simply borrowed from her sister-in-law. Since Julia was now out of mourning, she had nothing appropriate for a ball. After Neville’s death, she depended on the generosity of his sister. And avoided the leers of her brother-in-law, Joseph.
Naturally, that generosity had a price, and this week, the price was to escort her niece to the ball.
She wasn’t chaperoning so well. She’d escaped the ballroom through the French doors and lingered near the food, even though she wasn’t hungry. She was, however, quite weary of the pitying looks sent her by the members of the ton who had known and loved her husband. The comments were even worse—how much they missed him, what a good man he was. All true, except that he’d died young and left her penniless, childless, and at the mercy of his family.
Briefly, she wondered whether her sister-in-law had sent her to the ball so she might meet someone, but no, not in this dress. It would be in her sister-in-law’s interest, getting her married and out of the house, wouldn’t it? Maybe after she was finished playing governess for their three daughters.
Only the first was out in society, so that task would last a while.
She felt like she was being watched, and then looked up to meet an amused blue gaze over the plate of tea cakes. A jolt went through her. She hadn’t seen Lucian, Neville’s best friend, since the funeral mass. Before Neville died, Lucian had been a fixture in their home, and she’d felt his loss almost as keenly as Neville’s. The first remark to her lips was to accuse him, to ask why he’d stayed away, but no. This was neither the time nor place.
“I see Angelica is treating you especially well,” he said without preamble, his gaze sliding down her ill-fitting gown.
The glance reminded her their relationship had been too informal when Neville had been alive, and she had to remind herself they no longer had that relationship. She had to maintain her reputation or risk losing her place in Angelica’s home. “Mr. Villaret,” she said simply.
His eyebrow winged upward, and his lips twitched.
So handsome. He and Neville had been a striking pair, drawing the gazes of men and women alike anywhere they went: Neville, tall and blond; Lucian, dark-haired and broad-shouldered.
“So formal, Julia. Are you upset with me?”
“Why ever would I be?” Only that he’d disappeared from her life almost as completely as Neville. Not once had he called to see how she fared. Or to mourn Neville’s loss with her.
He angled his head, his eyes losing that twinkle. “I’m sorry. Angelica is not a particular fan. She blames me for Neville getting into trouble.”
Julia knew both men played an equal part, but that knowledge didn’t help her forgive his abandonment. Still, she couldn’t hide her curiosity. “I’m surprised to see you here. You
ordinarily avoid balls this late in the season.”
Grasping mamas looking for a match for their debutantes, he’d said. He wasn’t a great catch as the younger son of a baron, but he was strikingly handsome, especially tonight in the crisp white shirt and dark coat, the snug-fitting breeches beneath. A stir of something she hadn’t felt in over a year, had never expected to feel again, rose, and she looked past him, seeking an escape.
The twinkle returned, and he leaned closer. “I’m on the prowl.”
She drew back, surprised at his vulgarity. “Lucian.”
“Will you save me a dance?”
She hadn’t danced since Neville died, and though she was out of mourning, she couldn’t imagine doing so now. “I’m chaperoning my niece. Dancing wouldn’t be appropriate.”
He leveled his gaze at her. “Would it not?”
He saw too much. “I should get back. I’m not being a very effective chaperone.”
“I’ll escort you.” He lifted his arm in invitation. “And perhaps you can introduce me to your niece.”
He parted from her soon after, and she caught sight of him, dancing with several debutantes, one after another. She hated how she followed his actions on the dance floor, that she was fascinated by the interactions he had with these women—most of them no more than children, when he was a man of the world. She had been fortunate to wed a man close to her own age, and they had grown up together. That was another of the reasons she missed Neville so deeply.
She turned her attention from Lucian and watched her niece, Constance, who had less success finding partners. Julia would have felt sorry for the girl, but her niece took after her mother in temperament, which made sympathizing difficult.
* * *
“Stand and deliver!”
The words, accompanied by the wobble of the carriage as the horses staggered to a stop, tumbled Julia from her seat and jolted her from the dread of returning to Angelica’s house and Joseph’s advances. She gripped the window and looked out into the night to see a masked man on a black horse in the middle of the road. His cape billowed behind him and his broad-brimmed hat shadowed his face, but the gun he waved was very visible.
She shrank back and put her arm around her niece, who stiffened at the contact.
“We have nothing, sir,” the coachman said in a shaky voice.
“I know that not to be true. You have just come from a ball, have you not? The ladies within are bejeweled.”
Constance made a high-pitched sound into Julia’s neck.
Julia hushed her instantly, though the highwayman already knew they were inside. And as if she summoned him, he appeared at the door, on foot.
The smile beneath the mask riveted her, a flash of white teeth in the dark, and her arms tightened around her niece. She knew that smile, but she had never expected to see it like this, playful but with a threatening edge. What was he doing? She clicked her teeth to resist calling him out—saying his name, revealing his identity, needing to protect him—even though her mind couldn’t wrap around seeing him here.
She pushed the younger woman behind her, and leveled a look at the man who accosted them, holding his gaze, wanting him to know she knew who he was.
“Well, well, lovely ladies indeed,” he said, his voice intentionally rough to disguise it. “Please step outside.”
Heart hammering, Julia shook her head so hard her hair fell loose, but she knew denial alone wouldn’t send him away.
“All right,” he said, lifting a lethal-looking pistol. “Just you, then. Bring her jewels with you.”
Her hand went up to shield Constance instinctively, though she was certain Lucian wouldn’t hurt her. “She’s a debutante. She’s only wearing pearls.”
“Perfectly matched, if I recall. Bring them along, if you please.”
“Don’t do this. They’re a family heirloom,” Constance begged in a shaky voice.
“Perhaps the family’ll pay a ransom for them, as well as for your lovely chaperone.” He opened the door and held out his hand to Julia, while aiming the pistol at Constance. “The pearls, please.”
“Julia!” Constance protested.
Where was their coachman? Their driver? Why did they have no protection? At the same time, she didn’t want one of them to come around and shoot him. She couldn’t watch Lucian die.
“Please, don’t do this,” Julia pleaded.
“I’d have you come with me. Now, if you please. And bring the pearls. I’ll let the girl go.”
Before she knew what was happening, Constance was pressing the pearls into her hand and practically shoving her out the door and into Lucian’s arms.
“What are you doing?” Julia gasped against his jacket, the same he’d been wearing at the ball.
Not acknowledging her question, he didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled the pearls from her hand then swept her into his arms and strode across the uneven ground to his restless horse. He lifted her onto the horse’s back with more ease than she thought possible and followed her up, shoving her skirts aside. He wrapped an arm around her waist, his hand pressed against her stomach over her corset, pinning her to the breadth of his chest. He whirled his cape to shield her from the night air, pulled her back against him, and with a “hiya!” to the horse, galloped from the carriage.
Julia’s mind spun, along with her stomach, as the horse raced along, Lucian holding her steady in the saddle. How had he come to this? Holding up carriages on the road? Robbing women? Was this why he hadn’t come to her at Angelica’s house? So many questions, and she could address none of them as the horse raced along.
She didn’t know how long they rode or how far, before he turned the horse down a path. Once she adjusted her far-distant gaze to the cadence of the horse’s gait, she saw they headed toward a darkened manor house.
He swerved from the house, and the horse gave another burst of speed before slowing. Lucian’s chuckle reverberated in his chest, and the muscles of his arms tensed as he reined in the horse. A man melted from the shadow of a stable door, startling a shriek from Julia. The man took the horse’s reins, and Julia shrank in Lucian’s arms before she realized the groom waited to care for the horse.
Lucian swung out of the saddle and reached for her. When she didn’t move right away, he closed his hands around her waist and lifted her down. He let her slide along his body, her skirt catching between them so that her stockinged legs brushed along his thighs.
Her body, numb from the shocking events of the evening, came alive. She hadn’t been touched in months, and hadn’t realized how she’d missed it. Now, the excitement of being kidnapped caught up, the blood rushing through her body and settling in every point of contact between them. Her nipples tightened, and her sex softened. She tightened her hands on his upper arms when he lowered her to her feet, and she looked up into his eyes, pale behind the mask. Something shifted in them, the mischief darkening to something else.
Then he set her away from him, turned her toward the house, and urged her ahead along the path. Vines grew up the brick walls, the bushes in front were unkempt, the rose bushes leggy and sparse, adding to an air of neglect. When she hesitated, he reached past her to open the heavy door, twice as tall as she was, dragging the bottom against the stone floor. He urged her through with his hand at the small of her back.
The foyer was dark, lit only from the moonlight glowing through large windows above.
“Lucian?” she asked shakily, turning toward him.
He went completely still before pivoting. “You knew?”
“Why are you doing this?” Despite herself, she shrank back as he advanced.
He sighed and shoved his mask up to his forehead. “I didn’t want to frighten you, but I needed to send a message.”
“A message? To whom?”
“I know how Joseph has been treating you. I wanted to get you away, but I didn’t know how.”
“So you kidnapped me? Terrified my niece? Brought me to a strange house?” Her voice rose with each questi
on, even as a thrill raced through her blood.
He blew out a frustrated breath and moved to the entryway table where he lit a candelabra. When he turned toward her, casting flickering shadows, she jumped a foot to see a woman in the doorway, wearing a sleep-cap and robe, blinking.
“Master Lucian?”
“Go back to bed, Mrs. Tully,” he said, not taking his gaze from Julia.
“You have a guest.”
“I’ll take care of her.”
“Sir. It isn’t proper.”
He chuckled. “Go back to bed,” he said again, tugging off his leather gloves and tossing them onto the table beside the candelabra.
After a moment, the older woman nodded and shuffled off.
“What are you going to do with me? Hold me for ransom? Angelica will never pay it. You should have kidnapped Constance. Though I’m glad you didn’t.”
He gave a crooked smile and stepped closer. “I didn’t want her.”
“I doubt you risked your life for only a string of pearls.”
“You would be right.” He held a hand out to her. “I came for you.”
Julia stared at his hand, processing his words. “I don’t understand.”
“I have missed you. But I knew as long as you were in mourning, I couldn’t take action. I didn’t have the resources to look after you. I couldn’t take you away from that house. But now I have the means to take care of you.”
She shook her head. “I don’t—you’ve been a highwayman? You’ve built your fortune that way?”
He chuckled. “Fortune, I wouldn’t say. But a life better than you have now? That I can offer you.”
She frowned, pressing her lips together. “But why?”
He took both her hands in his, and then folded them against his chest. “I love you. I’ve always loved you.”
She took a step back, hands lifted. “You can’t. I was Neville’s wife.”
“And the reason I never married was because there is no woman like you.” He lifted his hand to her face. “Neville was the luckiest man I knew.”
