Her Scoundrel, Bad Luck Wedding #7 (Bad Luck Brides trilogy book two)

by Geralyn Dawson

  “Damned scoundrel,” he muttered.

  “It’s a point in your favor, of course. You and Rory are two peas in a pod, so I suspect you’ll be quite pleasing.”

  “Wait just one minute.” He lowered his brow and glared. “Remember what I said about a crowded marriage bed?”

  Kat rolled her tongue around her cheek. “Hmm. Tell me, Jake, would you consider yourself bold in such matters?”

  This time his mouth gaped open, and he stared at her as if she’d grown two heads. “Bold?” he croaked.

  Kat shrugged. “As opposed to athletic. I don’t doubt you’re athletic. It’s another reason why I believe we’ll suit.”

  Jake waited a few seconds before giving his head a little shake. “You surprise me, Mrs. Kimball.”

  It was the first time she’d heard her new name spoken. Kat cocked her head, considered it. Kat Kimball. A smile played across her mouth. She liked it.

  She snuggled back against the coach’s velvet seats and tested her wings. “I’ve always been a bit of a free spirit. It’s a natural tendency that’s been encouraged by Monique and even my mother. They’re both strong women, and they nurture that strength in their loved ones. The women in my family don’t follow society’s rules as much as we follow our own sense of right and wrong.”

  “I have noticed that.”

  “I try to be honest and forthright in my dealings with others and with myself,” she added, playing with her necklace’s chain.

  “This from the woman who arrived at my home dressed in disguise and under an assumed identity,” Jake said dryly.

  Kat acknowledged his point with a grin, then said, “When I was younger, I aspired to be an actress. I’ve always enjoyed the drama of a play, the freedom of fantasy. I was especially enamored of the idea of happy endings. However, life, I’ve learned, is very real. It’s real and it’s heartbreaking and it’s heavy to bear. The way I see it, though this marriage is legal—I’m confident of that, by the way, and I thank you for the reassurance—this marriage of ours is more illusion than real life. We’re not in love, or pretending to be in love. Ours is not even a traditional marriage of convenience. So for us to have a honeymoon, well, it’s like a week-long theatrical play. It’s pure fantasy. If I’m going to indulge in fantasy—” Kat shrugged “—I might as well enjoy it.”

  Jake remained silent for a time, his brow knitted in thought. Then he propped his boot on the opposite seat. “This is the most peculiar situation. I feel as though I should protest, but I don’t quite know why. Doing so would not be in my best interest.”

  “It’s a week,” she replied with a shrug. “A guilt-free week away from reality, away from responsibility. A week of freedom to indulge ourselves. I look forward to sharing a marriage bed with you, Jake. I find you incredibly appealing, and we do seem to have a certain…sizzle between us. I think it will be fun to see how hot we can burn.”

  Jake studied her for a long moment, then leaned forward and banged on the window, alerting the coachman. “How much farther?”

  “Fifteen minutes or so, I’d say.”

  “I’ll double your tip if you make it in ten.” Jake settled back into his seat as the horses picked up their pace. He drummed his fingers against his knee, and his gaze never left her face. “You are a most surprising woman.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “It is meant as one.”

  They didn’t speak again, but the tension inside the coach grew thicker every minute. Kat’s body hummed beneath her husband’s smoldering regard. She stoked the fires with little, deliberate movements—the sweep of her tongue across her bottom lip, a sensuous roll of her shoulder, a sinuous stretch of her leg. His nostrils flared and the angles on his face seemed to sharpen, his body grew hard. In response, Kat felt herself soften.

  The coach rolled to a stop, and Kat had her first look at the hunting lodge. Red stone walls and brown wooden shutters gave the two-story structure a solid, masculine look, but the flower boxes at the four large windows softened the facade. He’d been right about it resembling hill-country stone houses, though she’d never seen a Texas cottage this big. “It’s welcoming,” she said, breaking the silence between them.

  “It’s comfortable.” Jake opened the coach door, and jumped to the ground. Reaching up to assist Kat, he fitted his hands around her waist, then lifted her down, sliding her body against his until her feet touched the ground. Rather than release her, his fingers tightened, drew her closer. “Welcome to Paradise, Mrs. Kimball.”

  “Paradise?” It startled a laugh from her. “You have no doubt about your talents, do you, Mr. Kimball?”

  He smiled his scoundrel’s grin, then cocked his head toward a sign above the door. “Paradise Lodge.”

  “Oh.”

  His hands slipped from her waist and slid slowly down across her hips until he cupped her buttocks. He gave her a quick, hard kiss, then said, “I trust it will live up to its name.”

  Releasing her, he stepped aside to speak to the driver before sending him on his way. He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, watching the coach depart. Kat kept her gaze on him, appreciating the handsome sight he made. He’d forsaken a jacket and stood in shirtsleeves and trousers, his cuffs rolled halfway up his forearms. Sunlight glistened off his dark hair and flashed from the gold hoop earring he’d donned for their exchange of wedding vows. She was reminded of the first time she saw him, standing shirtless and wet beneath the Texas sun. A pirate.

  Then he looked at her, his eyes hot with desire. A pirate ready to ravish.

  Warm, honeyed lust washed through Kat.

  A smile played upon his lips. “The answer to your question is yes.”

  “What question?”

  “I like boldness in my bed.”

  Kat’s pulse leapt as he advanced on her. She backed away. She didn’t mind joining the spirit of the game, but she feared she’d given him the wrong impression. She’d heard whispers of unusual appetites involving whips and pain that left her cold. She cleared her throat “What sort of boldness appeals?”

  Jake toed off his boots, then worked the buttons of his shirt. “The grass is green and thick. The sunshine warm. We’re alone. I want you here, Kat Kimball. I want you now.”

  “The lodge is only twenty feet away.”

  “Too far.”

  Outdoors? All right. Yes. She could do that.

  “I had planned a slow seduction, but that will have to wait for another time. You’ve teased me long enough.” He shrugged off his shirt and Kat’s mouth went dry. Broad and bronzed and sculpted, he took her breath away. He took yet another step closer, and this time, Kat held her ground.

  Jake’s gaze burned as he reached out and pulled the pins from her hair. “So lovely,” he murmured, his eyes hot and hungry. “Old gold. I never forgot that about you, Katrina. I never forgot you.”

  His lips took hers, raided, captured, ravished. Heat flowed from his body into hers, engulfing her like a firestorm. His hands gripped her hips and he yanked her against him.

  Kat pressed right back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and moved against him, sliding and rocking and rubbing. Her blood boiled. This man. This moment in time. It felt right and wonderful, and it had been so long.

  “Take me, Jake.” Desperate, she arched against him, offering herself as her heart pounded and arousal thrummed in her blood. “Touch me. Take me.”

  “You’re mine.” His hands ripped at her buttons and yanked at her bodice and finally filled with her bare flesh. He fondled her breasts as his mouth slid to her throat. Kat arched her neck, giving him access. His greedy mouth nipped at her skin and she wanted to scream.

  His hands were everywhere at once and his mouth chased right behind. When he took her breast into his mouth the sweet pull of suction on her nipple drew a moan from her lips. He let out a hum of satisfaction in response.

  So lost was she in the sensual spell he wove that she only vaguely noticed the brush of br
eeze against bare skin as her skirts fell away and her underclothes disappeared. Jake Kimball was a forbidden dream suddenly within reach, and she sank into the dark, hungry fantasy.

  Her fingers threaded into his hair, tugging the thick, silky strands free of the tie at the base of his neck. Her hands streaked across his shoulders and back, molding the firm cords of muscle, learning his long, lean form. He smelled of sandalwood and male and tasted of temptation and spicy hidden pleasures.

  Kat wanted the rest of him, so she tugged at the waistband of his trousers. Desire nipped and gnawed and clawed through her as his hands swept down her spine, cupped her bare buttocks and lifted her against his straining erection. She whimpered as he ground himself against her.

  Suddenly he returned her feet to the ground and pulled back. Stepped away. Her empty, aching arms drifted slowly to her sides. Then, she saw the hot, greedy appetite in his eyes as his gaze trailed slowly over her nakedness, and the sense of feminine power drew her up short. She’d long been self-conscious about her curves, but now, watching her husband literally tremble with need at the sight of her, she was filled with a soaring pride.

  She lifted her arms to take off her necklace, but he stopped her by saying in a thick, hoarse voice, “No. Leave it. You’re just as I pictured. You take my breath away, Katrina.”

  He stripped away his trousers, and Kat’s throat went tight, her mouth dry. He was a pagan god, elemental and erotic and larger than life. He turned her knees weak.

  His expression appeared chiseled in granite as he strode toward her, then swept her up into his arms. Her hands caressed his broad shoulders as he carried her around to the back of the lodge to a spot where the grass grew thick and green and sweet. He lay her down like a prize, then rose above her like the conqueror he was.

  Jake lowered his head and feasted, savoring her inch by inch. His big hands explored her, his touch firm and just a little bit rough. Kat’s eyes fluttered closed as she surrendered to the sensual pleasure of the moment—the whisper of the gentle breeze, the earthy fragrance of the grass, the warmth of the sunshine against her skin, and the pure delight of his intimate attentions.

  He nibbled his way along her shoulders. “Your shoulders intrigue me, Katrina. They’re delicate, soft and round, but they bear so much weight.”

  She gasped a breath as he trailed his tongue along her collarbone. “You’re too beautiful for such heavy burdens. Shed your burdens and fly with me now.”

  She hissed out his name as his fingers found her woman’s core. As the tension built, she arched her back, opened for him, breathing in throaty moans until he captured her mouth in a kiss almost savage with desire.

  His heart pounded beneath her fingertips as he skillfully, ruthlessly, drove her to a peak. She cried out and her wetness poured into his hand.

  Jake growled low in his throat, then rose above her, positioned himself at her entrance. “Mrs. Kimball. Mine,” he murmured, then he drove himself home.

  So long, Kat thought as she took him deep. And never like this. Never this full, this hot, this…complete.

  She rocked against him, matching his rhythm, until the savage tension built within her once more. Her body went taut, and as the tremors began, clutching him, working him, Jake let out a shout and yanked himself from within her, spilling his seed safely on the ground.

  Breathing hard, he gathered her against him, and they lay without speaking beneath the warm springtime sun. Kat’s thoughts spun. Lovemaking with Jake Kimball had been bigger, grander, more powerful, more physical than anything she’d known before.

  So why did she feel so empty?

  ADVENTURE.

  Upstairs in the master suite, Jake’s eyes flew open on the word, and he smiled with satisfaction. His body ached as if he’d galloped a horse up a rocky Himalayan mountainside, but he wasn’t about to complain. Earning battle scars like these had been the best time he’d had in…well…he couldn’t remember when.

  He turned his head on his pillow and gazed at the woman sleeping beside him. When he’d made plans for this honeymoon, he’d expected to have to coax her into his bed. Instead, he’d had her three times before they even came close to a mattress. First outside, then on the sofa in the main room, then up against the wall on the staircase landing. She’d been a randy man’s fantasy, and heaven knows, he was a randy man.

  He rolled onto his side and propped up his head with his arm, then watched her. Sunlight filtering through the bedroom window bathed her creamy complexion in soft light. Sleeping beauty, he thought. He twirled a strand of her silky, spun-gold hair around his finger. Sleeping puzzle, too.

  She’d been right there with him every time. In fact, she was the one who instigated the exchange on the stairs. Yet, for all her enthusiasm, for all her obvious satisfaction, each time they finished, he noted a strange light in her eyes. A light he couldn’t quite place. Or maybe it was more of a dimming.

  Was it the fact that he’d followed her wishes and withdrawn from her before spilling his seed? Possibly. He could understand how her feelings about conception might be conflicted. Jake suspected her reaction more likely involved that damned bounder she’d “married,” but damned if he’d ask her about Rory Callahan. The son of a bitch’s ghost already hovered in the air of their intimacies. Jake wanted an exorcism.

  How to go about it? Leaning forward, he inhaled her scent. Sleepy, sunshine sex. Mmm. What would please the lady and rid her of her ghost? What would keep the light shining in her eyes?

  He considered what he knew about Kat McBride Kimball. She was smart and courageous. Beautiful. Witty, energetic, kind.

  Her lips curved and she sighed in her sleep. Pleasant dreams, beautiful? Dare he hope she was dreaming of him?

  Hell, she might as easily be dreaming about baseball and striking him out at the plate. He shouldn’t leave competitive out when describing his Kat. She was definitely competitive, adventurous and…

  Adventurous. Hmm…

  She’d told him she didn’t like adventure. What exactly had she said? Something about the reality of adventure not being as exciting as the fantasy of it?

  But then, she’d said something about fantasy, had she not? The freedom of fantasy. Hmm.

  Fantasy. Adventure. An idea hovered just beyond his reach.

  Her eyelashes fluttered, then opened. Her eyes glittered like the emerald she wore around her neck. “Good morning.”

  The rasp in her voice stroked him like a physical touch and he immediately went hard. “G’mornin’, sunshine. So, did you have pleasant dreams? You were smiling in your sleep.”

  Kat chuckled softly. “Pleasant dreams? You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Try me.”

  “I dreamed about the time my sisters and I robbed a train.”

  Jake sat up. “You what?”

  Now she giggled. “We robbed a train. It was part of our attempts to play matchmakers for our father and Jenny Fortune. We were successful, I might add.”

  “You were children.”

  “We were Menaces.”

  There’s that word again. Jake stretched out beside her once more and trailed his finger along the supple curve of her arm “Sounds like you were a real trial for your father.”

  “We were.” Her smile turned rueful. “We are.”

  He leaned down and kissed her shoulder. “I like the sound of that. Will you be a Menace for me?”

  She blinked at him. “I’m here, aren’t I? Yesterday wasn’t adventurous enough for you?”

  Jake nudged the sheet downward, revealing her breast “If I’d had any more adventure yesterday, you’d be burying me today. Although, let me assure you, now that I’ve had time to recover—” he brushed his fingers over her nipple until it hardened “—I’m hearing the call of the wild all over again.”

  “Grr…” Kat growled as she tugged him toward her. She nipped at Jake’s shoulder, and he gave himself up to the glory of her touch, her teeth, her fingers. Later, when he heard himself howl, he was torn
between laughter and lust.

  When she’d left him lying vanquished on the field as she sought her bath, he knew an unusual sense of dismay as he watched her walk away. The woman was a joy, fun and exciting and, yes, adventurous. They had so little time together.

  He wished she were joining him on his travels. He imagined how she’d look aboard ship, her long golden hair flowing behind her on the salty sea breeze. That fantasy led him in other directions, and he placed her in the prow of a gondola in Venice, in a pirogue on a Louisiana bayou, bedecked like a native on a South Pacific island. Her breasts bare.

  Or, maybe in a sultan’s tent in Arabia, wearing a silky, transparent harem costume. He could be the sultan. He’d have her dance and…hmm. Jake propped himself up on his elbow, gazing at the bathroom door. Maybe…A grin played at the edges of his lips as the idea took hold. He took a mental inventory of the contents of Chatham Park. One great thing about being the heir of a devoted collector, he had plenty of props.

  Whistling now, energized, Jake rolled from the bed and padded over to the desk. He removed two pieces of paper from the drawer and began making a list on one. When he was satisfied with his plan, he took the blank page and sketched out detailed instructions. Downstairs he put his note in a basket on the front porch for a Chatham Park servant to pick up when he delivered the daily supplies.

  The plan set in motion, Jake made his way back upstairs where he joined Kat in her bath. Damned if this first full day of his honeymoon wasn’t off to a wonderful start.

  KAT THREADED a worm onto her hook, then tossed her line into the water, willing a fish to take her bait She had two fish on her stringer to Jake’s three, so she felt the pressure to catch up. Kat was too competitive to be happy coming in second in any contest. Yet she was too relaxed to get worked up over much of anything.

  They’d passed a leisurely morning at Paradise Lodge, much of the time spent in conversation. Jake questioned her about her interests, opinions and her everyday life at home. He’d acted as if he truly wished to learn about the person he’d married.