Lords of the Isles

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  Everything had happened so fast. His words were still spinning in her head. He would gladly take her to wife. To wife. Regan looked down at her hand in his. The whiteness of her skin contrasted against his bronzed hand.

  Jack stopped in front of her room’s broken door. “Ring for the maid. We shall leave for London at once.”

  Regan narrowed her eyes. “But that will fuel the gossip.”

  “The gossip will flare if we aren’t married within a fortnight. I intend to have a license before your grandfather interferes.”

  Regan swallowed. Good God, is all this truly happening? “You think he would stop us?”

  He started down at her, his lips pressed into a hard line.

  Regan sighed. “Yes, he would.” Something had happened between her grandfather and Jack. And she did not know what, but it was as if they knew one another. It frightened her. “But Jack, you hate the aristocracy, and you will marry into it?”

  The unforgiving line of his mouth softened, but a slight hardness, like liquid metal cooling into firm steel, remained in his eyes. “I don’t hate you. And that is what matters.”

  “You don’t love me. Why—”

  Jack lifted his fingers to her lips. Their warmth caressed her. She parted her mouth and stared up at him. Jack stroked his thumb over her bottom lip. “Does your work, your life, matter? Or love?”

  But she was already falling in love with him. And clearly, he did not love her in return. Never would. He would always view her as one of them. And there would only be lust between them.

  On the other hand, if she did not seize his offer, she would be alone and she would never see him again. “Jack, there can be no secrets between us. I sense something in you.”

  He hesitated a moment, his thumb stroking her lower lip. “We all have difficulties in our past and I will tell you mine… but not now. Later. In London.”

  Relief eased her mind at his words. “Thank you.”

  “Shh. It is my fault that we are in this circumstance. The least I can do is right it for you. You will continue your father’s work.”

  Regan nodded and fisted her hands in her skirts. He was saving her reputation and protecting her. Nothing more. And as much as it ached, she should be grateful.

  “Be ready within the hour. I shall send Lord Ashecroft. He’ll secure a license from the bishop.” Jack strode away, his steps filled with determination.

  Regan slowly entered her room. The tub was gone, the floor dry and clean of blood. The bed sheets were smoothed and the body had been removed by footmen in the middle of the night. It looked as if nothing had happened here.

  She stood in the center of the room, uncertain what to do first.

  She should be relieved. She was going to be able to fulfill her father’s wishes despite everything. She was going to marry Jack. He would keep her safe and he would never try to lock her away. And she was finally going to be separated from the Chance family.

  She should be relieved.

  Instead, she felt like she’d been shoved onto a path of someone else’s making.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Do you have the license?” Jack demanded, as he strode into Adam’s study.

  Candlelight threw shadows over Adam’s face, but the shadows didn’t hide the suspicion lurking in his green eyes. “Why the hell are you doing this?”

  Jack crossed to the fire and propped his foot against the grate. The heat penetrated his boot traveling up his calf. He pulled at his great coat and flung it onto a nearby leather chair. “I’m saving her.”

  Adam leaned forward in his chair. Leaning one arm against the back in a careless gesture, he studied the ruby ring on his left hand. “You know, Jack, I distinctly remember warning you about her.”

  Doubt slithered its way into Jack’s mind. “And?”

  Adam shoved himself up from his chair and folded his arms over his chest. “The Duke of Chiles is a dangerous man. The minute I heard you were at the damned house party with her, I set off. Chiles is being investigated by Horse Guards for deeds that would make even your skin crawl. But he’s a duke, untouchable.”

  “And what do you suggest. That I not marry her?” Which was not a possibility. Marrying Regan was a perfect opportunity. Her marriage to a low-blooded commoner would send the duke into fits of apoplexy. And he would have Regan in his bed. Every night. And during the day when he chose.

  He’d also be able to protect her without a single wall separating them.

  “You could consider not doing the honorable thing.” Adam cocked his head to the side and shrugged. “You’re not marrying her because you love her. Let Chiles shunt her off to the country somewhere.”

  “No.”

  Adam strode to the small, engraved cabinet next to the fire and picked up the crystal decanter on top. It sparkled in the warm light. He poured out brandy into two ornate cut glasses and pushed one towards Jack. “I suppose I respect the fact you don’t want to leave her in a lurch. But—”

  “When did you become as hard as me?” Jack snapped. Something like a splinter had been festering in Adam for months. He’d been closing himself off day by day. But Jack didn’t need Adam’s damned, cold logic. If he continued this line of questioning, Adam would suspect his true motives for marrying Regan. And honor was not among them.

  “Apparently harder than you.” He cradled the snifter. “Women are not the best reason to throw one’s life away. They are hardly constant themselves.”

  Jack grabbed up the glass and brought it to his lips. He took a long swallow of the alcohol. It burned down his throat, warming his stomach. “Regan is anything but inconstant.”

  Adam shrugged. “As you will, but the duke will not let this go.” Adam cocked his head to the side, his eyes hard. “You, my friend, may find yourself dead in an alley somewhere. The duke has many young devotees. All willing to do anything for a bit of his astronomical power.”

  Jack tightened his fingers around the glass. Devotees like Lumley? The thought seemed too preposterous, but… The cut patterns dug into his flesh and he sighed. “It is a risk I am willing to take.” Jack tossed back the last of the brandy and set his glass on the mantel. “Now, do you have the license?”

  Adam stared at him for a moment, his green eyes penetrating. “It’s in my desk.”

  “Get it then.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes.”

  Adam blew out a breath. “Where is she?”

  “She’s at Hazard’s. O’Malley is there with her.”

  A wry smile cracked Adam’s lips. “Safe then.”

  Safe from one evil, about to be shoved into another. But he refused to let her go. He would make her understand all of this one day. “Let us fetch the vicar.”

  Adam grabbed Jack’s arm. “Does she know she’s marrying you this night?”

  Jack hesitated for a moment. There was no point lying to Adam. When they showed at Hazard’s with a man of the cloth in tow, Adam would witness her surprise first hand. “No.”

  Adam shook his head. “You’re more mercenary than I thought.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Don’t play the gentleman in this, Jack.” His deep voice reverberated in the quiet room. “There’s only one reason you are marrying her this fast. You don’t wish her to have the time to think about it.”

  Pulling his arm away from Adam’s grasp, Jack stepped away from the fire. “And?”

  Adam eyed him carefully then shook his head. “Nothing.” Wood scratching against wood pierced the room as Adam slid his desk drawer open. He reached in and pulled out the special license. “Let’s seal your own doom.”

  Jack stared after him. Adam was right. He wasn’t a gentleman. He would marry Regan and destroy her grandfather. He’d face the consequences later. And he’d win.

  *

  Jack sighed and shoved his gloved hand through his hair. “I almost killed the bastard.”

  “What a grand sight that must have been.” O’Malley brushed a piece of lint from Jac
k’s shoulder.

  Jack smiled slightly, even as his gut twisted. “I had my hand around his neck.” One quick jerk would have seen the duke dead… And himself hanging from a rather tight rope.

  “Temptation is the torture of life.” Stepping back, O’Malley eyed Jack and frowned. “Ye look bloody hangdog for a wedding.”

  Jack scowled and yanked his waistcoat down. “We’re in a rush.”

  “So we are, and speaking of temptations, yer lass is waiting downstairs.”

  Jack turned to the fireplace. He felt cold and he stretched his hands out to the warmth. His office had always made him feel secure, in control, but right now, control was something he was holding on to too tightly. If he wasn’t careful, he’d lose his grip and then what the hell would happen?

  All he had to remember was what he was doing this for. For Devlin. For revenge. And for his own life, sold to the highest bidder. “Have you found out the woman’s identity? The one associated with Chiles?”

  O’Malley’s eyes narrowed slightly then he shook his head. “I’ve been asking questions. But they’re right discreet.” O’Malley leaned against the mantel, his black coat straining against his broad shoulders. “They meet like clockwork. She carries herself like a queen, so Garret set us right. There’s no question the woman is as high and mighty as they come.”

  Jack nodded. “They’ll slip up and then we’ll know. Anything else?”

  “Garret is giving us the location of some documents.”

  “He can’t get them out himself?”

  “Too obvious. The bugger would be dead in a flash if the duke thought he was smuggling information.”

  Garret was a wild card and he had a strong feeling the man was going to slip into the night very soon. And then they’d never hear from him again. Hell, the man could go stick his head in a sand pit, just as long as he delivered first.

  “Jack, ye’re getting married,” O’Malley said evenly as he glanced at Jack from the corner of his eye.

  “What of it?”

  “She’s a lovely young thing and I’d hate to see her hurt.”

  Jack bristled. “Since when have you become a champion of women and children?”

  O’Malley squared his shoulders. “I mightn’t be a champion, but I don’t want to see her trod upon. She’s a good lass.”

  Jack drew in a slow breath. “I’m doing what needs to be done.”

  A long silence stretched out between them before O’Malley asked, “For who?”

  Jack resisted the sudden urge to slam his fist into his sergeant’s mouth. What the hell was going on tonight? First Adam, now O’Malley. Jack turned his back on the Irishman. “I’m marrying her to protect her.”

  A dark note of knowing sparked in O’Malley’s eyes. “Are ye now?”

  Jack didn’t answer, not sure he could without growling.

  “Ye’re not marrying her to rankle her grandda?”

  The words, so close to the truth, hit Jack like hot iron. “If I am?”

  “Then ye best be willing to see what little hope that lass has die off. Ye’ll be driving it out of her.”

  Could he do that? He’d known that’s what it would come down to in the end. He’d destroy the Chances in exchange for what they’d done, but what had Regan done? She’d shown him that people, even in the darkest pits of hell, could be good. But he didn’t know any other path than the one he’d been walking his whole life. And it was too late to find a new one now.

  *

  “I now pronounce you man and wife.”

  Numbly, Regan stared at the vicar’s lips, disbelieving that the words had just passed his wrinkled mouth. Dear Lord, her life was changed. Irrevocably.

  “You may kiss the bride.”

  Jack ran his fingers down her shoulder and. although Regan turned, she didn’t feel in control of herself. Of her movements. It all seemed false.

  She looked up at Jack. It was still his strong-jawed face, dark hair, and sooty, knowing eyes. But something was different. He looked like a man resigned.

  Resigned to a woman he didn’t truly want.

  He lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers. The brief, warm contact shot to her toes. The only real feeling she’d had in hours.

  She turned around to face the few people in the room. Lord Ashecroft and Mr. O’Malley.

  The Irishman offered her a smile and wink. She simply stood there, unable to smile back.

  Jack nodded at the two men. “Thanks to you both. I’m taking Regan home.”

  Home? With him? Regan hardly ever drank, but right now a glass of brandy seemed a very good idea.

  O’Malley approached, her long cloak in his hands. She turned and let him place it on her shoulders. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “Ye’re welcome. And it’s glad I am it was ye, and no one else that got our Captain Hazard here. Ye’ll be grand then.”

  O’Malley slipped his arm around her shoulder and kissed her cheek. “And if he gives ye any trouble, ye’ll let me know.”

  Frowning, Jack strode up behind O’Malley and tapped his shoulder. “I’ll thank you to keep your hands off my wife.”

  “Ah, but she’s such a bonny lass.”

  Jack took hold of O’Malley’s arm and removed it from Regan’s shoulder. “She’s my bonny lass.”

  “Indeed she is,” chuckled O’Malley, his cheeks glowing ruddy in the firelight. “Good night to ye both. I shan’t see ye tomorrow?”

  “No.” Jack looked down at Regan, his eyes heating the same way they had in the woods, as if they could see beneath her gown.

  Her heart quickened and, suddenly, she realized that she was his wife. Able to live with him without question. Kiss him without social scandal… and let him make love to her. As she’d been desiring him to do this last week. Jack guided her towards the door and down through the dark corridor that led to his private entrance.

  His carriage stood waiting. Three armed men, all in long, black coats, stood beside the carriage, reminding Regan that Jack took her safety seriously. A soft rain fell, splattering the cobblestones and tinting them with a blue light.

  The footman, clad in a simple black uniform, jumped down from the back of the carriage, ran to the door, and opened it.

  As the door swung open, Regan’s heart thudded in her chest. It seemed to be much more than just any carriage. The moment she went into the dark cab, she was accepting a new life. A life as Jack Hazard’s wife.

  Jack slipped his long, strong fingers around her hand and squeezed gently. A soft rain began to mist over them. It covered her cloak and fell on her face, cooling its warmth.

  Rain glinted in his dark hair like slivered diamonds. A single drop glimmered on his lower lip. Teasing her. Tempting her to kiss it from his mouth.

  He was hers now. Until death did they part.

  And without a backward glance, she climbed in.

  *

  The carriage rumbled down the narrow road. The faint light of the lamps filled the compartment with a warm glow, illuminating the hard contours of Jack’s face. She couldn’t help but remember the carriage ride to Wellhurst. She’d never think of carriages the same. Nor Jack.

  She stared at him, taking in every last detail of his darkened skin, long lashes, and square jaw. Nothing could stop her from looking now. There was no reason to hide her need for him.

  “Jack, I want you to kiss me.”

  His body tensed and his eyes widened.

  “Do you not wish to?” she asked.

  His lips curled in a slow smile. “Where do you wish me to kiss you?”

  Regan’s heart thundered in her chest. Tilting her head to the side, Regan stroked her finger on the side of her neck.

  “Christ,” Jack growled.

  He tore off his cloak and flung it aside. Then he reached over the gap between them and pulled Regan to his side of the carriage. Without a word, he placed his palms on either side of her head, his fingers sliding under her bonnet and into her hair. Her skin tingled at his touch.


  Slowly, Jack lowered his mouth to her neck and pressed his lips to the skin. Then he opened his mouth and circled his tongue along its softness.

  Regan gasped at the feel of him. He leaned back, his eyes dark and hungry in the dim lighting. “And now?” he whispered.

  “My mouth.”

  Jack tilted her head up, then took her mouth in a hungry kiss. No gentle urgings, but ferocious want and need filled her mouth as he thrust his tongue between her lips and tasted her.

  Regan wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled herself closer. She wanted every inch of their bodies touching. Devouring each other like their kiss.

  Jack tugged at the strings of her bonnet then pushed it off. It tumbled down her back. His lips moved to her cheek and then the line of her jaw.

  This is what she wanted. Utter abandon, without a thought.

  The pins at the front of her gown slipped undone and Jack’s warm fingers slid over her skin. Pulling at the fabric, he opened it to her waist, then slowly, he slipped the bodice down. Cold air rushed in on her body, her thin chemise and light corset too sheer to block the cold. Regan moaned as her nipples tightened. She arched her back, hoping he would move his mouth to her breasts.

  And he did.

  His hands cupped her breasts through her chemise. Trailing his fingers up to her shoulders, he worked the lacings of her corset until it was loose about her waist. Deliberately, he slid it over her head and then went to work at her chemise, pushing it over her shoulders and down to her waist. Tilting his head, he lowered his mouth to her nipple. Regan gasped at the warmth of his mouth and dug her hands into his hair.

  The wet velvet of his tongue raked against her tender skin as he sucked her nipple into his mouth and twirled his tongue around it.

  “I want—to see—you, too.” Her brain seemed broken. Broken by need. Need for him. Nothing but him. And she would not be satisfied until she had laid her hands on his bare skin.

  Jack looked into her eyes as he yanked at his cravat. His fingers worked quickly, tugging, and bunching the fabric.