His Wicked Kiss

by Gaelen Foley

  On the third evening, after visiting the village shops before they closed for the day, they made love in the carriage on the way home, laughing and trying to be quiet so the driver wouldn’t hear. Old Peter was no fool, though; pretending a tactful ignorance, he cleared his throat loudly upon their arrival in the torch-lit courtyard. He gave them plenty of time to make themselves decent before opening the carriage door.

  Jack got out first, a trifle flushed, his dark hair tousled.

  “Good man,” he mumbled, tucking a fiver into the coachman’s breast pocket. Then he turned back for Eden, who melted out of the carriage into his arms, feeling boneless with the aftermath of pleasure.

  Wicked amusement danced in Jack’s eyes as he gave her his arm, letting her lean on him. They ambled slowly back into the house. In their chamber, Eden took off her clothes and dropped into bed with the taste of his kiss still warm on her smiling lips; the moment her head hit the goose-down pillow, she sank into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  The next morning, however, the dream broke off abruptly when she awoke. She opened her eyes and found Jack sitting in the armchair near the bed, watching her as he was wont to do.

  With a drowsy smile, she stretched amid champagne-colored sheets. They smelled of sex, and so did she. “Good morning, husband.”

  A wistful half smile curved his lips.

  “You’re all dressed. So handsome.” She sighed, admiring his tweed coat, dark green vest, and brown twill breeches. He wore knee-boots and must have been ready to walk out the door, for he even had a riding crop in his hand. He toyed with it idly. “Going out for a morning gallop?”

  He didn’t answer, lowering his gaze.

  “Come back to bed.” She closed her eyes, rolling onto her stomach. “It’s too early.”

  “Eden,” he said gently, “I have to go.”

  “Is it time for your meeting?” she mumbled against the pillow.

  “Yes.”

  “Very well. When you come back, we can have a picnic in the old solarium—”

  “Darling,” he cut her off.

  “What, Jack?”

  He was silent for a long moment. She lifted her head again and stared at him, then noticed the quiet resolve in his rugged face.

  She sat up suddenly, clutching the satin sheet to her bosom. “What is it?”

  “I told you, love. It’s time for me to go.”

  “Go—?”

  He leaned closer, setting the riding crop aside. “Be calm, now,” he soothed, holding her in a steady gaze. “Try to understand. I want you to stay here while I complete the mission.”

  “Stay here? Jack, what are you talking about? We’re going next to England….” Her words trailed off as the blood drained from her face. “You’re going to England…without me?”

  “Eden, my uncle told me of some bad developments in the war. I can’t stay in England long. I’ll only be there for a few short weeks to round up the men I need. I’ve got a stop at Cornwall, then at London, and then I’m sailing back straightaway to Venezuela.”

  “Jack!” She stared at him, scarcely comprehending. How utterly diabolical of him to do this to her first thing in the morning before she could think clearly—oh, perhaps all of this was a bad dream. She rubbed her forehead, trying to wake up. But knowing Jack, he had chosen his timing on purpose.

  “I’ll be back from South America in the autumn,” he said in a delicate tone. “You’ll be safest here until then.”

  “The autumn?” Eden could barely absorb what she was hearing. “You’re going to leave me alone here for six months?”

  “Darling, I can’t take you with me on a ship full of mercenaries, nor Phineas, for that matter. You and the boy will both stay here, where you’ll be safe.”

  “Jack!”

  “I’m sorry, Eden. Not all the men I’m bringing back to Bolivar are simple soldiers.”

  “I don’t care what they are! I’m not staying here by myself! That’s exactly the reason why I left the jungle!” She jumped out of bed and strode toward her closet. “I need to be with you. You know I do. And you need me. Especially in London. If I’m not there to smooth things over, you’re going to make things worse between you and your family. You know you need me there.”

  “Eden,” he whispered, faltering. He steeled himself visibly and stood. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Well, you can just wait because I’m getting dressed and I’m coming with you. Don’t you dare walk out that door, Jack Knight.”

  “You’re not coming with me. Eden, you’ve got to let me go.”

  She had already slipped a chemise on over her head. “Yes, I am coming with you, and do you know why? Because you promised. You promised to take me to England—just like Papa!” She reached for a gown.

  “No. I never promised that.” He shook his head staunchly, resting his hands on his waist.

  “Well, it’s what you let me believe, and that’s the same thing, is it not? How long have you been planning this—all along, you blackguard? From the very start?” She was shaking and flabbergasted, scrambling to get ready to go with him. She was perfectly incensed. “I can’t believe you lied to me.”

  “I never lied to you.”

  “You deceived me, didn’t you? You tricked me! You had this whole plan up your sleeve from the start, admit it! Oh, all the things I let you do to me—and you were playing me false all the time! There is a snake in Ireland after all!”

  “I thought you liked the things I do to you.”

  “That’s not the point, and you know it. I trusted you!” Tears flooded her eyes. She could feel herself starting to panic, for he was implacable, and somehow she already knew the battle was lost. “How could you do this to me?” she nearly screamed at him.

  “Eden, calm down—”

  “No! You can’t do this to me, Jack! I can’t be alone here for months and months on end all by myself. Look at all I went through to go back into the world again. If you lock me up here, I might as well have stayed in the jungle with Connor!”

  He bristled. “Don’t compare me to him.”

  “I won’t stay here. You can’t make me.”

  “Actually, I can. The footmen have their orders.”

  “Oh? I’ll drug them all with caapi leaf and make them fall asleep—I’ll run away.”

  “You will do nothing of the kind!” he bellowed, looming over her with a glower. “So help me, if you pull a stunt like that, you will know my wrath.” He tore the gown out of her hands and threw it on the ground. “Stop this now! You’re not coming with me. I’m leaving you here for your own safety. I will take you to England as soon as I get back. Though by that time, you may be too big with my child in your belly to travel.”

  “I am not pregnant,” she informed him, struggling to bring her raw emotions back under control.

  “No?” He eyed her skeptically. “It would explain this hysterical reaction.”

  She narrowed her eyes in warning. “You have not seen me hysterical yet, my lord.”

  “It gets better?” he mumbled under his breath.

  “You add insult to injury?” she exclaimed, shocked from panic back into fury, which was no doubt his intention.

  “I have to go.” As he turned and walked away from her with measured paces, Eden followed, her heart pounding, knots in her stomach.

  “Come back here! We need to talk about this.”

  He ignored her.

  “This is outrageous! You can’t keep me here against my will!”

  He picked up his greatcoat, draped over the chair. “Good-bye, Eden. I’ll be back as fast as I can. Whatever you need, simply let Mrs. Moynahan know—”

  “I’ll bet I know the real reason you don’t want me with you!” she flung out, frantic enough to say anything to stop him now. “You just want to go and see your precious Maura in London without your wife around!”

  “Now you’re hysterical.”

  “Don’t tell me I’m hysterical!” She threw a shoe at him. He ducked in the ni
ck of time and spun around with a look of rage.

  “You were going to leave without even saying good-bye, weren’t you?” she accused him, her voice rising shrilly. “That’s why you’re all dressed! You nearly walked out and left me to wake up alone!”

  “Right now, it rather seems a good idea.”

  “Did you even write me a note?” She suddenly burst into tears.

  Cursing under his breath, he strode back to her and grabbed her around her waist; clutching her to him, he kissed her with rough passion, tangling his fingers in her hair.

  His abrupt motion took her off balance. She clung to his shoulders to keep from falling and returned his kiss with tears coursing down her cheeks. The desperate kiss she gave him begged him to stay, though she already sensed it was futile; the man was stone. She quivered with pain in his arms to think of all those months and months of loneliness, separation, locked up here alone.

  Isolation.

  “I’m not ready for this,” she whispered, capturing his hard face between her hands. “Please don’t do this to me, Jack. Don’t leave me here alone,” she breathed as she kissed him. “I’ll do whatever you say. Don’t leave me.”

  “Do you think I want this?” he demanded in a harsh whisper, angrily tightening his hold around her waist.

  She gazed at him in bewilderment, her eyes blurred with tears. “I don’t know. You must, because you’re Jack.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means when Jack Knight really wants something, he always finds a way. You could take me with you if you really wanted to. You just—don’t,” she said with a quiet sob.

  He seemed exasperated. “You understand nothing.”

  “What’s to understand?” She released him from her embrace and backed away, shaking her head. “You obviously don’t love me as much as I love you.”

  She waited for him to say she was daft, but he stared into her eyes, emotion churning in his gaze; his face was etched with anger, indeed, with a hint of confusion. He just shook his head at her in silent, scathing reproach, then pivoted without warning, and marched away.

  “Jack!”

  He vanished through the doorway, the sound of his strides echoing behind him in the sharp rhythm of his boot-heels striking the flagstones.

  “Jack!”

  She rushed after him in her chemise and ran out to the top of the carved oak gallery.

  He was below, already crossing the great hall. He didn’t look back in answer to her panicked cries.

  Her mind reeling with sheer disbelief, Eden flew back into their chamber and looked out the window.

  In the courtyard below, he had already mounted his horse.

  He looked up.

  As their gazes locked from across the distance, he stared hard at her, angry torment glinting in his turquoise eyes. She rested her fingertips on the window pane as though to touch him.

  Jack.

  “No,” she breathed, flattening her palm against the glass as he wheeled his horse around and went galloping off down the drive.

  Without a backward glance.

  A thousand curses poured through his mind as he raced Fleet Apollo down the muddy road, thundering on toward the bustling port town of Cork.

  He refused to question his decision, locking Eden away in his castle. But he felt like utter hell.

  He had been ready for her anger; he had even braced for tears. What he had not been at all prepared for was her pain.

  I hurt her. His mind felt numb with the realization. I hurt my sweet girl.

  It was the most horrible feeling in the world, and he had no idea what to do. Here on the cusp of his mission, just when he most needed to have himself and everything else under perfect control, he was utterly routed, completely unsure. This was the right thing to do.

  Wasn’t it?

  Why did she always have to be so damned much trouble? No answers came by the time he reined in his splendid thoroughbred outside the Green Anchor Pub overlooking the harbor.

  As he handed the stallion off to his head groom, who had followed on a hack horse, Jack paused to survey the bustling port. Fishing boats draped in netting dotted the harbor, bringing in their morning catch; a few small sailboats scuttled about, while the daily packet ship was taking on passengers. But farther back, where the water was deeper, there she waited, beyond the fray—a duchess among dairy maids: The Winds of Fortune, right on schedule.

  When he was through here in the pub, Trahern would pick him up in one of the cutters; once Jack was back onboard, they’d journey across the Irish Sea to Cornwall. There, he would meet next with a few of his past associates who would no doubt be game for a go at the Venezuelans’ offer.

  They were fighting men of a particularly fierce stripe, rough-and-ready adventurers from his days in the once-profitable smuggling trade.

  Outlaws.

  By Jack’s calculation, Bolivar’s army could use a bit of ruthlessness. It would take all the general’s genius to control the sort of troops that he’d be sending, but he had promised to bring them devils, and now he was going to meet with the first batch.

  Jack turned and trudged into the tavern to rendezvous with his Irish chums, former captains in Wellington’s Peninsular Army.

  The quiet local pub was as dim and cozy as a cave, with dark oak paneling on the walls, dingy ivory plaster above it, and low, heavy beams running across the ceiling. A layer of hay had been strewn across the flagstone floor for warmth and to collect the mud and wet from the men’s boots. The wind moaned like a ghost under the eaves.

  The dim, peaty-smelling pub was lit with whale-oil lamps, a few tallow candles, and a large, roaring fireplace. As Jack gazed briefly into the flames, an unbidden memory came, of making love to Eden in the great hall’s inglenook on a pile of fur throws before a fire just like that. The vision made him quiver. He shook it off with a will. It was going to be a damn long six months.

  The men he had come to meet waved at him from their table in the corner. Though no longer in uniform, they had the bearing of seasoned soldiers, ready for anything. Restless as hell on half pay, no doubt.

  They grinned when they saw him coming.

  “Jackie-boy!”

  “The devil himself!”

  Jack summoned up a thin smile. “Kirby, Torrance, O’Shaunnessy, Graves! Where’s that rascal Miller?”

  “Here he is now.”

  They exchanged hearty handshakes, rude greetings, and claps on the back. Jack gestured for a round of ale as he sat down with them. “How the hell are you, lads? Enjoying your retirement?”

  “No!” they cried in roguish unison, and as soon as the first round was done, Jack got down to business.

  When he left the pub a couple of hours later, an unlit cheroot dangling from his lips, the sky had clouded over and the temperature had dropped. Trahern was outside admiring Jack’s horse.

  “Ho, Captain! Ready to make sail?” the young lieutenant called cheerfully.

  Jack gave no reply, tapping his hat restlessly against his thigh as he stalked over to join him with a disgruntled sigh.

  “How was the meeting?” Trahern asked in a lower tone as Fleet Apollo nosed his pockets for something to eat.

  “Quite well,” he muttered. “They all agreed to the proposition.” He glanced around furtively at the comings and goings around the inn yard. “We’ll give them a few weeks to gather their men, then we’ll be back to pick them up.”

  “Excellent! But why do you look so grim?”

  Jack shook his head and turned away.

  “It’s Eden, isn’t it?” Trahern murmured. “She took it hard?”

  “Awful.”

  “Well—” Trahern took his fob watch out of his waistcoat pocket and looked at the time. “It’s not too late to bring her with you. You’ve got just enough time to fetch her before high tide.”

  Shaking his head, Jack ran his hand through his hair, and then gripped the back of his neck. It throbbed with tension. “I don’t know.”<
br />
  Trahern eyed him shrewdly. “Best decide soon.”

  He tossed his head with a snort and prowled away, pacing to the edge of the hillside, where he stared out over the bay.

  His uncle’s words preyed on his mind.

  Are you really doing this for her sake or is it for yours? Buy her the ton’s affection. You’re not that angry seventeen-year-old anymore…

  He looked out at the sea, the wilderness he had escaped to. Maybe not so different from her father, after all. He had always been the sort of man who, when he made a decision, seldom changed his mind. He had devised this plan entirely by his usual mode of thought: logical, precise, effective.

  But so much had changed, his whole life had changed after these few days of bliss, and now the old way of thinking didn’t seem to make sense anymore.

  She was right, he thought. I did deceive her. And I was wrong. The whole point of the past few days had been to cement the bond between them so that Eden would forgive him when he sailed away, but Jack had not anticipated the effect that these days with her would have on him.

  Ironically, the deepening of their love made it all but impossible for him to go, leaving her behind like this—so hurt, so angry, so alone. Surely he could find another way….

  Perhaps she could stay with his family while he went to South America. Then at least she wouldn’t be so alone, and he could rest assured that she’d be safe.

  He had never meant to hurt her in his desire to protect himself, but he still dreaded the thought of taking her to London. If they shamed him in front of her, if they swayed her to view him as a pariah, or, above all, if they dared reject her because of him, by God, he’d take a barrel of black powder and blow their precious Almack’s to high heaven.

  But on the other hand, Arthur was right. She was no ordinary woman, his little orchid lady. Indeed, there was an equal chance the ton might fall in love with her as he had. And how happy that would make her.

  Jack pivoted, threw down his cheroot, and strode toward his horse.

  “Where are you going?” Trahern called in surprise as Jack leaped up into the saddle, taking up the reins before he changed his mind.