He leaned in until they were practically nose to nose. “I repeat—you are not a tart.”
It was terribly sweet of him to be so insistent, but it was also quite absurd. Still, she had no intention of getting into an argument with him on the subject. He’d probably dump her off his lap and then drag her home—maidenhead intact—just to prove his point.
She rested a hand on his cheek. “I know. Thank you, Jack. Now, can we get on with things?”
He let out a reluctant laugh. “You’re very impatient, aren’t you?”
“For some reason I’m feeling quite restless and irritated. I’m hoping you can do something about that.” She began to unbutton his waistcoat.
Jack brushed her fumbling hands away. “I can and I will. You, however, are to do nothing but sit back and enjoy.”
“But—”
When he lifted an imperious eyebrow, she subsided on his lap with a grumble.
“Good girl,” he said, giving her an approving kiss on the tip of her nose.
“But I don’t understand—” Her eyes widened when he slipped a hand under her knee and propped her leg over the arm of the chair, spreading her.
“Oh,” she breathed out.
“Oh,” he echoed her with a smile.
As he nudged her thighs wider, the air seemed to catch in her lungs. And when he pushed her skirts up to her waist, completely exposing the soft tangle of dark curls at the top of her thighs, she lost her breath completely.
“Look at you,” he said in a low, husky murmur, his hand settling low on her belly. “You’re so beautiful, my sweet.” His fingers drifted down. “So soft.”
Lia trembled as she watched him delve into the curls hiding her sex. The erotic sight made her feel wanton. She lay across him, her body completely exposed, a sensual plaything for him to use as he wished. And yet he cradled her with a tenderness that made her eyes start to sting. His gaze held as much reverence as it did heat, making her feel utterly cherished.
What she felt for Jack was too big for her body to contain. It almost seemed like a fatal blow to her heart.
“Lia, are you all right?” He withdrew his hand, a quiet concern marking his brow.
She had to swallow a few times before she could answer. “I will be, once you start touching me again.”
There was passion again in his eyes. “Oh, love, I never want to stop touching you.”
He took her mouth in a kiss that scorched her. Then his hand, possessive and hard, cupped her sex, claiming her. When he parted her folds, Lia moaned and jerked against him. He held her tightly against his brawny chest, murmuring encouragement as he played with her. His fingertips moved with assurance, slickly spreading her wide. He teased her bud to aching, hard prominence. Lia arched her back, pushing into his hand to increase the delicious pressure.
Oh, and he teased her there, just as he’d teased her nipples, circling and making her strain for his touch. When he finally touched the bud, she cried out as luxurious spasms rippled out from deep inside.
Her skin felt shockingly hot and every muscle seemed to skitter and jump with restless desire. She flung her arm around his neck, digging her fingers into his cravat as she tried to spread her legs even wider.
Jack leaned forward and nuzzled her mouth, sliding his tongue across her lips. “What do you want, sweetheart? Are you ready to come?”
“Yes, dammit,” she choked out. “Do something.”
His laugh was wickedness incarnate. He flicked her sex once, twice, and a third time, but it still wasn’t enough. She let out a soft wail and arched off his lap.
“Tell me what you want.” His voice was so low and hard it seemed almost like a stranger’s.
“I want you inside me,” she gasped. “Why do you wait?”
He was holding back, damn him, so careful with her that she wanted to scream. Even now he wouldn’t take her—at least not all of her—even though she was more than ready to give him everything.
His laugh was harsh. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll give you exactly what you need.”
When he pushed two fingers inside her channel and pressed his thumb over the tight knot of her sex, moonlight and stars burst behind her eyelids. She let out a high, choking cry as waves of pleasure overtook her. His hands moving over her, inside her, threw Lia into a shimmering void, sending her soaring higher and higher, reaching for those vibrant shards of starlight. Then he caught her as she fell to earth, holding her gently and murmuring soft endearments as she drifted down into her body.
But when she opened her eyes to take in his tight, almost somber expression, Lia couldn’t escape one simple fact—while Jack had catapulted her to the heavens, he’d unfortunately decided to send her there alone.
* * *
Only the mightiest of efforts had prevented Jack from ripping open the fall of his breeches and thrusting into Lia’s glorious body. But she was a virgin, after all, and no girl deserved to be taken in so slipshod a fashion, especially not one as innocent as Lia.
That fact left him no choice in what he must do next.
His mother and sister would be furious, of course, and it would mean that no wealthy bride would be riding to Stonefell’s rescue. But with a half-naked and utterly sated Lia sprawled in his arms, those seemed like minor concerns.
Despite all efforts to the contrary, he was beginning to think his life and Lia’s had been leading inexorably to this very moment. And to see her at this damnable ball, pursued by scoundrels and rakes, he’d understood with thundering clarity just how vulnerable she was. When she’d had the unmitigated gall to ask him to help her find a protector . . .
Even if it had taken his brain some minutes to catch up, his body had known exactly what to do—to claim Lia as his, now and forevermore.
No one knew Lia better than he did or cared for her as much. If she’d found a good man to marry, he would have accepted that. But for her to lead the life of a courtesan, a plaything passed from one man to another?
Never.
He cradled her in his arms. To finally give in to the magnetic pull between them sent an almost staggering sense of relief flooding through his body and mind. A special license was very much in order. The sooner he married Lia and got her into his bed, the better.
When she tapped him on the nose—rather hard—he blinked with surprise.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked in a voice too wary for a woman emerging from the throes of passion.
Jack resettled her, wincing slightly as her bottom pressed down on his brutally uncomfortable erection. He’d allowed his mind to briefly wander, compiling a list of what needed to be accomplished over the next few days.
Lia’s cheeks were flushed with passion, her mouth red and swollen from his kisses. Her full breasts, her slim waist, her lushly curving hips, and the mink-soft curls between rounded thighs all tempted him to throw caution to the wind and take her right now, staking his claim in no uncertain terms.
“Jack, have you gone deaf?”
Dammit. He’d done it again. “Sorry, love,” he said. He tipped her upright and went to work wrestling her stays back in place. “Let me help you get dressed.”
She batted his hands away. “I don’t need you to help me get dressed. I need you to talk to me.”
“Yes, of course. But first let’s get you safely home.”
Ignoring her resistance, he lifted her to her feet. She wobbled and grabbed his shoulders, letting out a little gasp. He kept a firm grip on her hips, intensely aware of how she trembled under his fingertips. Clearly, she’d never experienced this sort of passion before and, primitive brute that he was, he couldn’t help feeling inordinately pleased by that knowledge.
“We’re not going anywhere until you tell me what happens next,” she said, sounding breathless.
“Next, I’m taking you home.” He leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose. For some reason, that made her scowl.
“We don’t need to discuss anything tonight, pet,” he added. “I’ll c
all on you tomorrow morning and then we can begin making plans.”
When she yanked her stays up over her breasts, Jack had to swallow a sigh of regret.
“Unless those plans involve you becoming my protector,” she said, impatiently trying to rearrange her mangled shift, “there’s no reason to have a discussion about this . . . this incident.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Incident?”
“What else would you call it?” Her entire demeanor had become downright chilly.
Jack got to his feet, his temper rising with him, although he did his best to wrestle it under control. It had been a difficult evening for her and she was likely suffering from some sort of female reaction. But her response was decidedly not what he’d been expecting. Lia loved him and he’d made damn sure before he removed a stitch of her clothing that she’d wanted this as much as he did.
“I understand that tonight has been rather fraught,” he said carefully, “and perhaps your thinking is currently rather muddled. But you have entirely misunderstood if you think my actions were in any way offering a carte-blanche. Precisely the opposite.”
She flicked her skirts back in place. “Marriage, you mean? It’s entirely unnecessary, Jack. You did not despoil me, so you are under no obligation.” Her manner was almost cutting.
“Lia, you are hardly an obligation, as I’ve pointed out to you possibly a thousand times in the last several weeks. And I most certainly did despoil you. I distinctly recall the feel of my hands on your body. Inside your body,” he said with emphasis.
Her fiery blush was evident even in the dimly lit room. Still, from her expression, he saw she was not going to give up without a fight.
And he knew why. She’d gotten it into her head that the only way he could save Stonefell was by finding a rich wife. While he wouldn’t insult her intelligence by pretending that things might not be tricky, and that he wouldn’t be forced to make decisions he’d rather avoid, he had no intention of allowing Lia to sacrifice herself on the altar of his family’s estate.
Nor, come to think of it, was he willing to sacrifice himself in a marriage of convenience—not when he could have the woman he wanted instead.
She regarded him with a determined air. “I’m the daughter and granddaughter of courtesans. I know exactly what’s involved in losing my virginity, and my maidenhead remains firmly intact. No thanks to you,” she added in a snippy tone.
“Wait; you’re angry with me because I didn’t have my way with you?”
Her eyebrows went up in a sardonic arch. “Have your way with me? What a quaint expression, especially given the fact that we’re at a Cyprians’ ball.”
“This conversation is incredibly inappropriate,” he said rather inanely.
She let out an exasperated sigh. “Jack, I grew up on a country estate, where I spent quite a lot of time dealing with the tenant farmers and your estate manager. I know exactly how the breeding process works.”
“Bully for you, but I fail to see what difference that makes.”
For a moment, she looked as if she wanted to smack him, but then she snapped her fingers. “I completely forgot to tell you. Mr. Lindsey wrote to me a few days ago about a new breed of hogs he’s been reading about in the Yorkshire Agricultural Report. Did he mention that in his most recent letter?”
“And we are not talking about hogs either,” he said as he retrieved her mask from the floor.
“We can’t talk about sex, we can’t talk about Stonefell, and now we can’t even talk about hogs.” She waved her arms in an extravagant circle. “What the devil are we to talk about?”
He handed her the mask. “Right now, the only thing we’re talking about is getting you safely home. Then, as I said, I will call on you tomorrow and we will discuss plans for our marriage.”
“Jack, please get it through your thick skull that we are not getting married.”
“Nonsense, and we are not discussing this any further tonight,” he said firmly. “You are clearly in much too volatile a state of mind.”
His state of mind wasn’t the best either. If this fight continued, God only knew what would happen. He’d probably end up hauling her back to that chair, flipping her skirts up to her waist, and burying his cock deep in her beautiful body. That would bring an abrupt and definitive conclusion to their ridiculous discussion.
She glared at him for a few seconds longer, then slapped on her mask and began tying the ribbons, all while muttering some salty oaths. Jack made a mental note to speak to Lindsey and also his head groom once they returned to Stonefell; she clearly was spending too much time around the stables and barns.
Of course, she could have picked up such language backstage at the theater or even from her own mother, which was an appalling thought. It was time for him to put his foot down and get the poor girl under some semblance of control.
Once Lia finished tying on her mask, she gave one more upward yank on her bodice and marched to the door.
“Wait,” he hissed, leaping after her and slapping his palm onto the door. “Let me check first to make sure no one’s out there.”
She scoffed. “Don’t be such an old miss, Jack. Lord Stanley and his friends got bored and wandered off long ago.”
“Can you for once try not to be entirely reckless?” he asked, exasperated.
She let out a heavy sigh but stepped back with a look of long-suffering patience, as if she found him singularly lacking.
He cracked open the door and cautiously stuck his head out. Except for one rotund, middle-aged gentleman snoring loudly on a bench, the corridor was empty. He took Lia’s hand and drew her out into the hall.
“Told you,” she said smugly after a quick glance around.
“Could you please not talk? I would truly love to escape from this godforsaken affair without you being recognized.”
“Whatever you say, your lordship,” she said in that horrific accent she feigned.
He led her swiftly toward the front entrance hall. Astonishingly, they met very few revelers on the way. It was now well past midnight, so the celebrations in the ballroom had likely reached their debauched peak. They passed two or three late arrivals who cast curious glances, but after retrieving his hat from the footman, Jack shepherded Lia safely down the front steps of the mansion.
Their luck held when he was able to hail a fortuitously passing hackney. Hauling Lia over to the curb, he bundled her inside, gave the direction, and squeezed in after her.
She glared at him. “Was it really necessary for you to shove me in by my backside, you brute?”
“I was just trying to get you the hell away from here, you peagoose.”
She whipped a finger up to his nose. “Now, you listen to me, Jack—”
He grabbed her finger. “Do. Not.”
She yanked her hand back and subsided with a grumble, then refused to look at or speak to him on the ride back to Upper Wimpole Street. That suited him perfectly because he was convinced neither of them would have anything productive to add to the already gruesome conversation.
When they pulled up in front of the Sir Dominic’s town house, Lia waited for him on the walk, fuming, while he paid off the driver.
“Thank you for escorting me home, Lord Lendale,” she said in a frigid tone. “I do not, however, need your assistance in climbing over the back wall of the garden, so I will bid you good night.” She spun on her heel, clearly intending to head to the back alley.
Jack grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the steps of the house. “I know how much you love to engage in theatrics, but be assured that Sir Dominic and Lady Hunter know you are not asleep in your bed. That being the case, we will use the front door like civilized people.”
“I’m not smashing in there like a brazen hussy,” she snapped. “You know very well what sort of assumptions they’ll make.”
“You should have thought of that before tonight’s little escapade.” He took her by the arm and marched her up the steps, then banged the knocker.
&
nbsp; A moment later, Smithwell, looking unusually harried, yanked open the door. “Miss Kincaid, thank goodness,” said the butler in relieved tones.
She managed a smile. “No need to worry, Smithwell. I had my faithful sheepdog with me, scaring away all the wolves.” Her smile turned ferocious as she turned to Jack. “Good night, Lord Lendale,” she said, starting to close the door in his face.
He wedged his foot against the doorframe. “I swear to God, I will take you over my knee and spank you if you try to slam that door on me.”
Her eyes went wide with outrage. Even Smithwell made a slight choking noise. Lia spun around and stormed to the staircase in the hall. Jack followed her inside.
She was halfway up the stairs when Chloe rushed out of the drawing room, her husband on her heels.
“Thank God,” Chloe exclaimed, staring down at her. “I was so worried.”
Lia faltered a bit, then trudged up the last few steps into her aunt’s embrace. All the starch seemed to go out of her as she rested her head on the older woman’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I caused you concern, Aunt Chloe. But there was never anything to worry about. I’m completely fine.”
“That may be the most demented statement I have ever heard,” Jack said.
Lia’s head reared back, her gaze furious. “Bugger you, Jack Easton.”
She pulled out of her aunt’s arms and ran up the stairs to the second floor. A few moments later the sound of a slamming door echoed through the stairwell.
“Oh dear,” Chloe said with a sigh. “I’d best go try to calm her down.” She hurried after her niece, leaving Jack and Sir Dominic to glare at each other.
“I trust you intend to bring this unfortunate situation under control, Lord Lendale,” the magistrate said in a soft tone that nonetheless carried a clear threat. “Before I’m forced to do something on my niece’s behalf that I might regret.”
“What the hell do you think I’m trying to do?” Jack growled. “If you can’t see that, bugger you, too.”
He turned on his boot heel and stalked down the stairs and out the front door. For once he’d finally gotten the last word.
Three Weeks with a Princess Page 25
