His Wicked Kiss

by Gaelen Foley

  Jack fell silent, staring down into his glass.

  “It’s all very simple, you see,” Arthur murmured. “Buy the ton’s affection with your gold, and give it to your beautiful young bride as a wedding gift.”

  Heaving a sigh, Jack leaned his cheek on his fist and scowled at him.

  Many hours later, Jack awoke in the pearl-gray half light before dawn to the vision of his sweet young wife sleeping on her stomach beside him, her auburn tresses cast across her cheek, the delicate fan of her long lashes gently lowered, her expression that of sublime peace.

  The soft sound of her breathing had become as familiar to him as the lulling song of the sea.

  As awareness filtered back into his waking mind, luscious memories of the night before stirred his blood.

  Their wedding night.

  He lifted his head off his pillow, staring at her. As he came up onto his elbows, still a bit groggy with waking, it stunned him anew to remember that today he was a married man. Even more shocking, indeed, slightly terrifying was the knowledge that he was in love.

  Yesterday, he had told her so. He had not expected the words to come out, but they had.

  I love you.

  Gazing at her now, his little Lady Jay, he knew they were the truest words he’d ever uttered.

  His faint smile as he watched her was full of doting tenderness. So, this is happiness. The whole sensation was rather strange and new—and perhaps a bit frightening, as well. This utterly odd desire to stay with a woman made him a little uneasy; he was afraid of how much he had already come to care. His deepening passion for her was intemperate; it seemed inevitable that the rug would be pulled out from under him at any time.

  Jack’s smile slowly faded. He knew that the wedding had been tinged with sadness for her because of Victor’s absence, but it had been bittersweet for him, as well, knowing that soon they must part.

  His thoughts wandered back to his conversation with his uncle, but he would not be swayed. Already he did not like letting Eden out of his sight, and the thought of a six-month separation made him heartsick.

  Beyond their separation, for him, there was nothing but grave danger and the highest of stakes.

  He still hadn’t told her that he’d be leaving her in Ireland for the duration. He was afraid of how she’d react—and he was perplexed that he should be afraid. Cowardice was not in his nature.

  Restless with it all preying on his mind, he got up and crossed the sleeping cabin, naked. He went about his morning ablutions deep in thought, but was bemused to find that his reflection in the mirror looked the same as any other day.

  Inwardly, he felt like a different man. A man, he thought grimly, who might have thought twice about risking everything to help this noble cause.

  When he had accepted this mission, he had done so with single-minded determination, having no wife to worry about, no possibility of a child on the way. He had had no attachments, nothing to lose but his worldly goods and, of course, his life, but this had caused him no particular worry, considering all the brushes with death he had escaped before.

  Now everything was different, and, admittedly, he was feeling torn. A part of him longed to walk away from the mission just so he could stay with her and gorge himself on this love that he had been starved for all his life. No one had ever loved him before, not like this, and he simply dreaded doing or saying one wrong thing that would take her love away from him. It was more precious to him than gold, but it felt as fragile as a flower.

  This was why he could not speak to her yet about their impending separation, he thought as he got dressed. Though guilt raked him over the coals for keeping his true intentions hidden from Eden, he knew the revelation would change everything between them. Perhaps it was cowardice, worthy of his shame, but he had never experienced love like this before and he could not bear to ruin it with the truth.

  Not yet.

  He wanted to feel it, revel in it, soak it in, and make the dream last for as long as it could before he must go—possibly to his death.

  Buttoning his shirtsleeves about his wrists, he returned to stand beside the bed, where he watched her sleep and brooded on his highly sensible notion of keeping her out of harm’s way while he went to complete his mission.

  Just off the coast of Ireland now, they would go ashore in a few hours and arrive at the castle today.

  Eden must have sensed his study, for at that moment her lashes fluttered, and she began to wake. As Jack watched her with a fierce but gentle protectiveness surging in his chest, he came to a decision.

  Rather than simply escorting her to the castle and dropping her off, he could surely take a few days to spend with her there while he summoned the men he intended to recruit. He could use this time to strengthen, aye, to cement the bond between them before he must sail away. After all, there was no rush to tell her what was really happening. Was there?

  The right moment would present itself, he was sure of it. It was hard news but she’d take it in stride, the way she always did. At least that was what he wanted to believe.

  “Good morning, husband,” she greeted him in a scratchy purr. The sheet slipped down over her slim body as she indulged in a big stretch full of feline satisfaction.

  “Good morning, wife,” he replied in a husky tone. Jack set his knee on the edge of the bed, leaned down slowly, and kissed the valley between her bare breasts. He smiled like a drunkard as she wrapped her arms around him, and then pulled him back into bed with a mischievous laugh.

  They had done it, Eden thought later that afternoon, as six of Jack’s crewmen rowed her to shore through the floating mist. They had crossed the wild sea, and now, at long last, she would plant her feet on dry land again. It wasn’t England—not yet—and in truth, she had come to love life aboard The Winds of Fortune, but Lord, she was glad to get off that ship.

  Every stroke of the oars dipping rhythmically into the gray-green waves lengthened the distance between her and the mighty gunship. Behind them, greedy seagulls circled the masts, clamoring for handouts. The sound of the ship’s bell and the working crew’s sea chanty faded as the pounding rhythm of the surf grew louder.

  Eden sat on the rocking cutter’s low cross-bench, gripping the sides in nervous excitement and shivering with the cold. Phineas was wedged in against Jack’s sea trunk from the sleeping cabin, now filled with Eden’s newly made dresses and extra clothes for Jack. The Nipper was coming ashore, too, since his Auntie Moynahan was Jack’s housekeeper, but Eden ignored the boy’s eager prattle, caught up in studying this new land.

  From a lush tropical paradise to the austere vastness of the ocean, she had now arrived at a whole new landscape completely unknown to her—one where the air was fresh and chill, where the breakers pounded the stark black rocks that strewed the beach. Here and there the slamming waves curled upward into tall, dramatic plumes of flying foam.

  Beyond the craggy beaches, alive with all their watery motion, mysterious green hills beckoned, sculpted in smoothly undulant curves, with even more mysterious valleys between them.

  The late March weather was not promising, true. Her first view of Ireland ahead was bleak and overcast, its desolate beauty whispering of grief and bloodshed, ancient heartbreak; but when the sun broke out through the heavy, piled clouds and etched everything with a glimmer of gold, she could suddenly feel the magic on these shores. She half expected to see mermaids twirling through the waves.

  Ahead, a sturdy dock jutted forth to receive them, reminding Eden nostalgically of the rickety one in the jungle where her journey had begun; but her heart lifted higher still when she caught sight of the powerful figure waiting for her there, bathed in the sudden, fleeting sunshine.

  Jack.

  The mere sight of him warmed her by several degrees. He had gone ashore a few hours ahead of her to make some preparations while she packed her things: He had wished to give the servants at his estate a few miles inland at least some forewarning that he and his new bride were on their way.
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  He was also dispatching riders with messages for a few of his friends—Irish officers who had fought under Wellington in Spain. Eden knew of his plans because she had been given the task of copying Jack’s letter five times over, asking each of the officers spread throughout the various counties of Ireland to come and meet with Jack in secret.

  He had explained to Eden that if all five agreed to sign on for South America, they could rally about a hundred foot soldiers each from their local fighting units. Though the regiments had been formally disbanded at the war’s end, the men who had become brothers in arms in the Peninsula certainly kept in touch. It would be easy for them to reassemble a good number of their ranks under Bolivar.

  At last, they reached the dock. Higgins lashed the longboat to a post, and then Ballast handed Eden up the sturdy ladder. Jack met her with a smile, clasped her hands, and pulled her to safety. Next came the Nipper. Jack lifted the child up the ladder as if he weighed no more than a sack of flour. Finally, the men hoisted the sea trunk up onto the dock.

  The sailors gave her a fond salute, which she returned. She knew she would see them again in a few days, for as soon as Jack had finished his meeting with the Irish officers, they would get back on the ship and sail on to England.

  At least that’s what she thought.

  Jack hefted the trunk up onto his shoulder while the Nipper ran ahead of them, barreling down the dock toward the black coach with crimson wheels that waited to carry them all to his estate. A stout old coachman took a quick nip from his flask before hopping down off the driver’s box to bend and hug Phineas, who ran to him.

  “Uncle Pete!”

  “He knows all the servants,” Jack explained when Eden looked at him in surprise. “They raised him, you see.”

  “Ah.”

  “Don’t trouble yourself, Peter,” Jack chided in amusement when the coachman started to set the boy aside to help his master. Jack loaded their sea chest into the boot of the coach without need of his servant’s help, secured it there, and then led her over to the carriage door.

  After introducing her to his trusty driver, Jack handed her up into the coach. At once, the smell of well-oiled leather and horses replaced the bracing scent of sea brine and salty oak planks.

  When the Nipper had jumped up, tumbling into the seat beside her, Jack shut the door with a smile and locked it.

  “Aren’t you coming?” she exclaimed.

  “Of course,” he said, adjusting his thick black leather gauntlets. “But if you don’t mind, I’d rather ride. I’ve been cooped up too long on that ship, and he’s been too long in the stable.” He nodded to the left.

  Following his glance, Eden beheld a magnificent cherry-bay stallion in the nearby grove of trees, his glossy coat gleaming like burnished copper in the golden sunshine, the breeze rippling through his long, sweeping mane and tail of pure black silk.

  Tall and absolutely stunning, the fiery steed pawed the ground impatiently as a liveried groom on foot held the reins, awaiting Jack’s return.

  “It’s Fleet Apollo!” Phineas cried, rushing to the window. “He’s the fastest horse in all the county!”

  “The pride of my stables,” Jack conceded with a smile.

  Eden stared at the splendid creature as Jack gave her a farewell nod and walked away. He took the reins and mounted up with an easy swing, his dark greatcoat swirling around him; she caught a glimpse of his buff breeches spattered in mud and his shiny black riding boots. As he tugged the brim of his half-scrolled hat a bit lower over his eyes, she thought he looked for all the world like some romantic highwayman. Settling into the saddle, he leaned forward and gave his horse’s neck a firm pat.

  As the groom strode toward the carriage to take his post beside the driver, Eden suddenly jumped out. Jack sent her a curious glance, urging the horse forward a few steps, but when she smiled at him, understanding dawned, twinkling in his turquoise eyes.

  “Lady Jay, what are you doing?” Phineas called, but Eden’s stare was fixed on her beautiful man astride his beautiful horse.

  Bringing the stallion to a halt beside her, Jack reached his hand down to her, smiling as he stared into her eyes, with the broad blue sky behind him.

  Eden took his hand without hesitation, set her foot atop his boot, and sprang up onto the horse with him. He laughed as he hooked his arm securely around her waist; sitting sidesaddle across the horse’s withers, she gripped the stallion’s jet-black mane.

  “Ready?” her husband whispered, wrapping his arm more tightly around her waist.

  “Aye, Cap’n.”

  “Hey!” the Nipper shouted as they surged past the carriage.

  “See you at the house, boy!” Jack boomed, his deep voice full of suppressed laughter as the coach lurched into motion behind them.

  In moments, they had left the coach far behind. Jack let the mighty Irish hunter stretch out, sweeping along the muddy road at a racer’s gallop. The sun shone more brightly, and Eden laughed aloud at the animal’s thrilling power, his hoof beats pounding the turf like a drum. Up hills and through dales, past meadows dotted with dingy sheep, they scared a flock of blackbirds up from the stubbled corn and sent a clutch of rabbits darting off through the brambles.

  Rounding a bend on the crest of a windy hill, a gust of air mussed her chignon and sent her hair tumbling down about her shoulders.

  When they came upon a jaunting cart carrying four nuns back to their convent in the valley, Jack slowed his horse to greet their neighbors. The sisters knew him at once, and when Jack introduced Eden as his wife, they looked their amazement, and then gave the two of them a fond benediction there in the road, blessing their marriage and promising their prayers for a happy and a fruitful union.

  They rode on at a slower pace, and when the nuns were out of sight, Jack kissed her. “Barely ashore, and already you’re winning hearts,” he murmured.

  “It’s the red hair,” she teased softly. “They probably think I’m Irish.”

  “Well, considering where you’ve come from, I think you’ll be happy to hear there are no snakes in Ireland. Saint Patrick drove them out, you see.”

  “Ah, no snakes! What a pity. Jack?”

  “Yes, love?”

  “The nuns called me ‘my lady.’”

  “Well, of course, dear. It is your due.”

  “Oh.” She marveled to absorb this. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  He laughed and urged his horse on.

  Within an hour, Jack turned Fleet Apollo off the road, cantering through a pair of tall wrought-iron gates. Eden’s heart beat faster as they rode up the long graveled drive, but when the “house” came into view, her jaw dropped.

  “Jack—it’s a castle,” she blurted out, wide-eyed.

  “Don’t worry, you will find it very comfortable, I’m sure. Part of it is all made new, with every modern convenience.”

  She couldn’t even find her voice to tell him she hadn’t been complaining. She was simply in shock.

  A real castle! There were brooding towers and formidable walls hewn from timeworn gray stone. Irregular additions jutted this way and that, made by various owners over the centuries. But the most recent bit was the main block in the center.

  Through the skill of some cunning architect, a large neo-Gothic house built in front of the ancient keep somehow pulled the whole pile together, a castle-fortress fantasy with a crenellated portico above the massive front doors and matching towers framing the front face. The trim around the tall, narrow windows was fresh and white; not a weed grew out of place. It was as impeccably kept as the spotless decks of The Winds of Fortune.

  The place was pure Jack.

  Every modern convenience, indeed, she thought. As he had pointed out, the stern Gothic fantasy was tempered by a hint of Classical ease, as if to assure the viewer that, inside, the home was graced with every luxury. She shook her head, amazed.

  When they came to a halt in the sprawling courtyard, half a dozen servants came running. She couldn’t
tell the grooms from the footmen, though she guessed that the fellow in black was the butler, and the round lady with apple cheeks must be Mrs. Moynahan.

  Eden’s head was spinning. Amid a chorus of “Welcome, my lady!” Jack shooed the staff aside and helped her down from the horse. But instead of setting her on her feet, he shifted her into his arms and strode toward the front door, carrying her over the threshold.

  Giving her a gentle kiss, he set her down inside. Eden nearly stumbled, staring all around her at the great hall, with its dark, carved wood, stained glass, and wondrous age-old tapestries; its gleaming flagstone diamond squares of white and bluish gray; its soaring corbeled ceiling painted white, and the cozy inglenook with a fireplace taller than she was.

  “Well?” Jack murmured, watching her. “You are the lady of this house now. What do you think?”

  “Shiver me timbers,” she whispered, and the whole staff burst out laughing.

  The next three days passed as a beautiful dream, each moment like a pearl. Three days of shining love…and unbridled passion.

  The heat of their desire awoke the spring, melted away the gray dreary frost, and began to revive the trampled grasses back to their emerald green. They made love constantly: in the grand bedchamber; in the stable; in the curtained inglenook before a roaring fire, atop a rich fur throw; in the back stairwell, rough and quick; against a tree that overlooked the valley. They simply could not get enough of each other.

  Now and then, of course, Eden sensed the shadow lurking beneath Jack’s tender manner, but she attributed it to his understandable concern about his mission.

  For now, however, three blissful days, all work was set aside. She had never known such joy, such pure relaxation, and above all, such love. She could hardly believe how much Jack had come to matter to her or how much she knew she had come to matter to Jack. She had never been so close to anyone before in her entire life. He was more than just her husband or her lover, he had become her dearest friend.

  They spent hours happily doing nothing at all but wandering the grounds hand in hand, stopping to pet the horses in the pastures. They strolled through the nearby village and Eden met the local folk, who showered them with humble wedding gifts.