Rescued by the Earl's Vows

by Ann Lethbridge

  A small hand burrowed into his waistband, busy fingers finding his shaft and curling around it the way he’d shown her.

  His brain nigh exploded with the pleasure of that bold but slightly awkward little hand. Deliberately, he thrust into the tight circle of her fingers, while he located the little nub of pleasure hidden deep within her folds.

  Her hiss of pleasure had him surging forward, wanting to bury himself deep in her wet heat.

  Her hand released him and he felt the loss of her touch as keenly as the bite of a northern wind, yet when she went for his buttons, he had enough brain left to ease away and grant her access. In moments, his falls were undone and his breeches pushed down his thighs. He broke their kiss to watch as she lifted his shirt the better to gaze upon his erection.

  Her eyes darkened. Her tongue flickered across her lips. A groan rose from his chest as he imagined her tongue licking him where her gaze rested. Dammit. That was surely not the sort of thing one did with a virgin or a wife.

  He pushed between her thighs and ran his tongue around the rim of her ear, feeling her quake against him. ‘What I would not give to be inside you,’ he whispered as he rubbed his thumb against that hard little nub in tight, quick circles.

  Her head fell back as if her neck could no longer support its weight. Complete surrender from a woman who never gave up. The sight almost unmanned him. He caught her around the shoulders before she fell backwards. Damn it, the table was no harder than he was. And this was neither the time nor place to...

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Yes, please.’

  His foggy mind might have trouble comprehending her words, but instinctively his hand pulled her closer until the head of his penis was nudging her delicate folds aside and inching into her delicious silken heat.

  Instinct took command and he thrust up into her, tortured by the difference in their relative heights. He wanted in to the hilt. He was barely halfway, her tight little sheath contracting around the head of his shaft, driving him mad with the need to be deeper.

  So tight. And resistant. She gasped. A sound of shock, rather than pleasure.

  He drew in a shuddering breath. First time. Gently. Slowly. This was a gift of monumental proportions. He wasn’t going to ruin it by being impatient. Nor must he let it go too far. He could not rob her of all her choices.

  He slowed the pace, easing into her one small fraction at a time, while using the ball of his thumb to keep her languid and receptive to the invasion of her body.

  She shuddered, a miniature quake of pleasure. Dear sweet heaven, she was so responsive and she was building again.

  His own orgasm fought for release deep within him. He took a deep breath, slowed his rhythm, took it down to a manageable level, and decreased the depth of his entry. The pain of denial was so achingly sweet, it rocketed him back to the edge of the precipice.

  He had to hold back.

  ‘Put your arms around my neck,’ he whispered in an urgent plea.

  Her eyelids fluttered upwards as if they were weighted by lead.

  Incomprehension filled her gaze. ‘Arms around my neck,’ he demanded. If she didn’t hurry...

  Languidly she draped her arms over his shoulders. It would have to do.

  He braced and lifted her off the table.

  His shaft slipped out of her body and she muttered a protest.

  With one hand under her, with the other Jaimie guided himself home. For a second she looked puzzled, then she lifted her legs and grasped him around the hips, letting her body sink on to him, in a long, slow outrageously delicious slide.

  All control left him. Using the table to support a fraction of her weight, he thrust upwards. Burying himself deep. His mind went black, comprehending nothing but the pleasure and the sensations of her body’s slide over his, her weight and her delicious perfume drawn in with every breath. No longer able to prevent the drive of his lust, he pumped his hips, her cries encouraging him to thrust harder, drive deeper, until she had taken it all.

  He thrust again, going a fraction deeper as her body opened to him. Twice she fell apart with soft cries and deep shudders. The third time he finally unleashed his tight control and buried himself so deep inside her, he had no notion of any separation between them.

  She cried out his name at the same moment his body shattered into a million separate pieces of bliss.

  Legs weak, he put both hands on the table to support her weight. She clung on around his neck for dear life, until he was able to seat her back on the table edge.

  ‘Oh, my,’ she breathed against his neck. ‘Oh, my goodness me.’

  Panting, chest heaving, body glowing, knees trembling, he leaned against the table and her, and somehow she held him up.

  Strong. This tiny woman was stronger that he ever could be.

  His mind slowly cleared. Damnation, he really had not intended they take it quite so far. He’d simply wanted to show her the pleasures of being a wife that lay ahead. His wife. Now the die was cast.

  He pulled up his breeches. What they had done must already have shocked her nigh to death. When she was decent, he lifted her down and set her on her feet.

  Limp and languid and breathing hard, she clung to his shoulders.

  He lifted her chin with one hand, looking down into a face so hazy with sensual pleasure something seized inside his chest, making it impossible to breathe for a moment.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  She nodded vaguely. ‘You will still help me find Grey, though?’

  Inside, he stiffened at her lack of trust, yet he should not be surprised that her brother was more important than himself. He had to earn his value in her eyes. ‘I gave you my word. I will keep it.’ And then she would trust him.

  He could not stop himself from adding a truth. ‘I cannot promise we will find him.’

  She drew in a deep breath, stepping back and smoothing her skirts. ‘I understand. In the end, it might be futile, but I cannot be content unless I know I tried my best.’ She peered into a nearby mirror and tucked up a stray tendril of hair. Such a very personal, feminine thing. And he hoped that soon it would be his right to see more such intimate activities.

  A strange softening occurred deep in his chest. He realised that he truly wanted this marriage. And he wanted it to work. It would mean an end to a loneliness he hadn’t even known was part of his life, until now. He filled his days with work and his nights with tending his roses, but this was a completely different kind of fulfilment that he hadn’t known existed. It was like...coming home after a long absence. Something like that. Perhaps?

  When Tess turned to face him, her expression contained anxiety. ‘We should go back before anyone comes looking for us.’

  Her anxiety was his fault. Somehow, he would make her see he would never allow her to come to harm. He also had to convince her that marriage to him would answer all her problems, whether or not they found her elusive brother. For some strange reason, he wanted her to come to that conclusion by herself. Not that he was wearing his heart on his sleeve. He’d never do that again, but still he did want to relieve her of her worries.

  He kissed the tip of her sweet little nose. ‘You go on ahead. I will follow in a few minutes so as not to engender gossip.’

  With a brisk nod, she left the room. An unwelcome cold feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. A warning something was about to go horribly wrong. He ignored those flashes of insight at his peril.

  For once, there was so much going on in his life, he could not pinpoint from whence came the danger.

  * * *

  As he had promised, Jaimie collected Tess at eleven in the morning on Friday. They would not have a lot of time to spend at Covent Garden, since the stalls generally closed at noon, but leave home any earlier and they might have aroused suspicions. As it was, it was very early to go driving and he’d asked Michael and Alice to
agree to meet them at Gunter’s for an ice to give them the excuse.

  They were to meet them at half-past twelve. Luckily for them, the weather had decided to co-operate for a change. Rainy days outnumbered fine ones by three to one according to Growler who seemed to keep track of such things.

  Tess looked lovely in her carriage dress of mint green-and-white stripes, with frothy lace at the neck and at her wrists. But then she always looked sumptuous to him. The way the dress emphasised her lovely curves heated his blood.

  Right at that moment she glanced at him and caught him staring at how well her figure filled out her bodice. He raised a brow. She blushed and looked away. He frowned. It wasn’t like her to be shy. ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘Oh, no. Not at all.’ Her expression, however, belied her words. She looked uncomfortable.

  Not what he was aiming for. He wanted to woo the girl, not frighten her off. He could do better than this. He took a breath. ‘You look lovely today. That colour suits you.’

  Her eyebrows shot up, her pretty mouth opened a fraction. If anything, she looked even more on edge.

  Damn, had he said it wrong?

  ‘Why are you being so nice to me?’ she asked, lifting her chin a fraction.

  That was certainly more like her usual direct self. He manoeuvred between two carriages stopped at the curb on each side of the road. ‘I am simply saying what I think.’

  A brief smile curved her lips. Small though it was, it relaxed him. There was a comforting familiarity in the emotions she evoked inside him, yet they also made him feel restless. Not quite his usual self. Lust he understood perfectly, but this desire to please her had him at sixes and sevens. He wanted her to see that marriage to him would work. That she needed him.

  He pulled his vehicle over to one side on Bedford Street opposite St Paul’s church and his tiger went to the horses’ heads. Jaimie hopped down and helped Tess to alight.

  If he’d been thinking rationally, the way he usually did, he wouldn’t have brought her here, but on the other hand, he certainly didn’t want her coming here by herself. He’d not wasted his time, though. He’d already set Growler doing a thorough investigation of Mrs Plunkett and her market stall.

  Clearly there was something odd about the woman. She charged very little for the goods she sold and had a great number of persons coming and going, yet rarely did anyone purchase anything. Perhaps Tess’s quest to find her bracelet—and her brother—was also bringing Jaimie closer to solving his case? A fortuitous alignment of the stars. If it wasn’t for the nagging feeling that something was going to go very wrong, he would have been a contented man.

  As he and Tess had agreed on the drive over, they wandered through the stalls, gradually closing in on their target.

  They stopped at a flower-seller’s stall and Jaimie bought a bouquet of lilies of the valley. Tess buried her face in the flowers and inhaled. The rise of her bosom within the confines of her light summer carriage dress was enough to drive a man mad. He glowered at a couple of fellows who were also regarding her with admiration...and lust. Mine, his glare said.

  Both looked away. He resisted the urge to pound his chest in triumph. What the devil?

  ‘They are lovely.’ Her smile was wider this time, lighting up her face, but there was a wistfulness in her voice. Did she not understand the meaning of these particular flowers? Should he tell her? He would feel a fool uttering such nonsense. You make my life complete. What sort of fellow would ever say such a thing? Or perhaps he was misunderstanding the situation. ‘If you don’t like them, I can get something else.’ He scanned the flowers, looking for something appropriate, deliberately skipping over the roses. He did not want to give her any false ideas.

  ‘This is the first bouquet I have ever received.’

  Well, that wasn’t right. When they were married he would see to it that she got one every single day. Hell! Why wait until they were married?

  He brushed a dusting of pollen from the end of her nose. ‘The first of many.’

  She sneezed and laughed, and it was the sweetest sound he had ever heard. He wanted that for her every day, too. Perhaps he was up to snuff on this wooing thing, after all. Unfortunately, they were not here purely for pleasure.

  He took the bouquet and handed it to a scruffy little lad who was taking in the interaction with a strangely inquisitive look. ‘Take this to the tiger with the black carriage in front of St Paul’s.’ He flipped the child a coin. The boy caught it and dashed off on his errand while the shopkeeper thanked them effusively for their business.

  He took Tess’s arm and this time their steps led them to the stall at the end of one of the rows. Little more than a barrow, it had only a few items on display.

  The woman beside it smiled at their approach. She was in her early thirties, he judged, though she could be younger for she had the world-weary look about her of someone who had struggled hard, but her hair showed no signs of grey. Her clothes were shabbily genteel and had been mended several times. In a basket beside her lay a baby. The baby glowed with health and its accoutrements were spotlessly clean.

  ‘How can I help you, sir, madam?’ the woman said with a bob when they paused at her display.

  She clearly had not been forewarned of their coming, she was behaving far too naturally.

  ‘Oh, what a pretty little spoon,’ Tess said. She held it up for him to see. The monogram was an intricate T and one he recognised from his list.

  Wariness filled him. This seemed a little too easy. Tess, meanwhile, moved on to a salt cellar of unusual design.

  He shook his head. It was not on his list and besides it had a pepper mill beside it.

  ‘What about that?’ He pointed to a sack at the woman’s feet, shoved mostly under the cart, but the mouth had fallen open and the arm of a candelabra poked out.

  The woman followed his gaze. ‘Oh, that is already bespoken, sir. I am sorry. Another customer has ordered it.’

  ‘May I not see it? It seems to be just what we were looking for.’

  ‘My dear,’ Tess said, ‘if another customer has already purchased it—’

  He frowned. ‘You are right, pet.’ He gave the woman a charming smile. ‘Give me the name of this other customer of yours and I will offer him more than he paid, if I like the piece.’

  The woman paled, then swallowed. ‘If you want it, sir, I could always give the other gentleman his money back. He left a deposit only. He said he would return with the rest before the end of the day. I fear he may not even come.’ She bent and opened the sack. Inside were other items of silver, but she quickly hid them from view. Only his greater height allowed him to see them over her shoulder.

  She set the candlestick in front of him.

  ‘Do you like it?’ Tess asked, picking it up and turning it over and around. ‘It looks old and is very heavy.’

  He ran a fingertip over the intricate design. ‘It looks like one of a pair. Do you have the other?’

  The woman blanched. ‘Only one, sir.’

  He scratched the tip of his nose, a signal to Growler who was somewhere in the crowds wandering around the stalls, that what he had in his hand was what they sought. He shook his head. ‘It is certainly a nice piece. Genuine silver, judging by the hallmark, and made by a craftsman. How much did you want for it?’

  Jaimie entered into a round of bargaining. Strangely, the woman wanted nowhere near as much as it was worth, usually a sign it might well be stolen.

  Bargain almost complete, Tess tugged on his arm. ‘I am not sure I like it as much as the other one we saw, after all, my dear. And there were two of them. They were not nearly as expensive either.’

  The woman named a lower price.

  Easy to do when you had paid nothing for the item in the first place.

  Jaimie pursed his lips as if considering his options. ‘I think you are right, my love, the o
ther pair was precisely what we require.’

  The woman looked relieved. She scurried to put the candlestick back in the sack.

  ‘Do you have any jewellery?’ Tess asked. ‘I am looking for something to wear with a new gown. A bracelet, perhaps?’

  The woman shrugged. ‘No, madam, no jewellery.’

  Tess drew forth a small scrap of paper. She held it out to the woman. ‘Have you ever seen this man?’

  The woman took the paper and studied the drawing closely. ‘No, madam. I have not.’

  Jaimie could see Tess wanted to press the woman. ‘We will look somewhere else,’ he said in the manner of a husband comforting a wife.

  Tess frowned, but to his relief did not argue.

  They wandered off. A few yards from the stall, Tess stopped. The look of distress on her face was like a blow to the gut.

  ‘I don’t believe we are ever going to find the bracelet. Or Grey.’

  ‘It is not like you to give up,’ he said, hoping to put heart into her. ‘We haven’t exhausted all possibilities yet.’

  She shook her head and continued walking. ‘I was so sure that this woman would provide the answer.’

  ‘She lied about not having any jewellery. There were a couple of rings on that table.’

  ‘They were tawdry rubbish. Not real jewellery. No, I think she was telling the truth about that at least. I have this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that she was our last hope.’

  ‘Will you give me your miniature and let Growler take it around to places where you and I cannot go?’

  She sighed. ‘I think it hopeless, but, yes, I will do that.’

  He nodded, but the lump in his throat at her obvious sorrow made it hard to swallow. ‘Time we set off to Gunter’s.’

  ‘Do we have to go?’

  He couldn’t quite understand why she looked so anxious. He’d thought she’d be pleased to become better acquainted with members of his family. ‘We do,’ he said firmly. She needed something to take her mind off her pesky brother. If they ever found him, Jaimie was going to have strong words with the fellow about worrying his sister so badly.