Fire exploded when their lips touched. She pressed with urgency, seeking more. His hands gripped her upper arms and she landed in his lap, right where she wanted to be. His arms tightened like bands of steel. His tongue teased her mouth open and he thrust inside. Oh God, how wonderful. How delicious.
She plunged her fingers in his hair and pulled his head as close as their bones would allow. A satisfied groan reached her ears giving her such joy she wanted to kiss him forever. His fingers glided up her arm, his thumb brushing over the tip of her breast. Her breath quickened and her heart leaped while she yearned for his hand to boldly caress her. Instead, he dropped a warm kiss on the exposed flesh of her bosom. His tongue slipped out dancing a lazy pirouette. When his teeth nibbled and leisurely traced the contours of her feverish skin, delicious shivers shot through her. She twirled strands of his silken hair around her fingers and clutched his head, enjoying every moist kiss, every wet skid of his tongue as he delivered his sweet torture.
Seeking fingers slid down her thigh bringing excitement for what was to come. She closed her eyes and waited with anticipation. He searched, found the hem of her gown, and blazed a trail up her calf, behind her ticklish knee, and on to her thigh. When he stroked the inside, she instinctively opened her legs wider.
His roving hand came to rest possessively on her mound. A stray finger prodded into her moist heat. She writhed beneath his slow, flicking finger, feeling consumed by the urge to rise against him. Willing him to plunge within, or better yet, have the boldness of his manhood fill her aching void. Soon all thought forgotten by the unbearable lance of pleasure when he inserted two fingers inside her. He swallowed her gasp and gave a groan of satisfaction. His fingers worked their magic. Close to the point of oblivion, she ground her hips against him. Seeking more. Teetering precariously on the brink. And then it happened. Glorious, breathtaking, most spectacular of wonders. The tingling that made her heart stop and her body take flight.
She held him as though she would never let him go.
The carriage stopped in front of a large manor house with several extensive wings. Stephen barely had time to take in the impressive dwelling. When the groom opened the carriage door, Stephen stepped out. He studied the stone structure from the ground up to the third story windows. Mindful of Jennifer behind him, he extended his hand and helped her from the carriage. Securing her hand in the crook of his elbow, he ushered her up the steps and through the front door, where a footman greeted them.
Jennifer’s gaze focused on the set of double doors to the left, then darted to the grand staircase. Her eyes large with apprehension. Her hand still on his arm, he covered her shaking fingers. To look at her she appeared calm. But the elegant lady beside him trembled in fear. He’d done his best to sooth her, to prepare her for this moment. He’d even escorted her to a clothier for the latest fashionable ladies clothes. She’d protested in earnest of him paying for her apparel, but he couldn’t allow her to show up on her father’s doorstep in rags. Compared to her father’s lofty station, the gown she’d worn would have been considered thus.
“Please inform the Marquess his daughter has arrived.”
If the butler suffered shock from the announcement, he hid it well. Showing no sign of surprise, he said, “This way, my lord.”
Uncaring to correct his mistake, Stephen gave a nod. As if her feet were stuck to the floor, Jennifer stayed rooted to the spot. He gave a slight tug, she tripped, then righted herself, still holding onto his arm. The butler opened a set of double doors and stood to the side. Stephen led Jennifer into what appeared to be a drawing room. Everything was done in bold colors of dark pink and forest green. A long sofa with wooden arms shaped into paws with a pair of matching wooden feet. On each side a set of identical mahogany tables glowed with polish.
Jennifer looked as if she were headed to the gallows.
“Are you all right,” he asked.
She squeaked in alarm. Her gaze flew to his.
He took both of her hands and caressed her gloved fingers. “I’m right here.”
“Stephen, you can’t imagine what I’m going through. Everything looks the same. As if I left for an hour of shopping and returned the same afternoon.” Slipping her hands free, she moved farther into the room.
She stepped to the large stone hearth, a fire already burning. Running her fingers along the top, she stared at a silver frame. From where he stood, the photograph appeared to be an image of two females.
“Your sister?”
“What?” She started. “Oh yes. Isabella and me.”
“Jennifer?” A shaky voice echoed from behind.
Startled, she spun around and her eyes grew larger. Stephen turned to find a slightly plump woman, her hair ribboned with grey, holding her hand to her throat. Jenny’s mother?
Suddenly, tears trailed down her cheeks and she opened her arms. A blur from the side of his vision, then Jennifer was enveloped in the woman’s arms. A huge weight lifted from his chest. Thank God.
Sure he’d done a lot of talking. Bravado mostly. The entire time he tried persuading Jennifer her family would welcome her home, he had devoutly prayed it would be so. Seeing their reunion, his worries vanished.
Now. How was he to get out of here? He felt like an intruder on their moment.
She’d forgotten he was there.
Chapter 22
“Eeeek! It is you. You’re home!”
A young woman with bouncing curls, the same dark color, came running and nearly crashed into the other two women. Screeching at the top of her lungs, her arms flew around Jennifer, then she too was crying. Evidently the sister.
Good God. A room full of weeping women. They reminded him of what was sure to await him at his uncle’s house. He cringed thinking of Kat and Aunt Elizabeth making the same sounds. Where the hell was her father?
A booming voice echoed off the walls. Hell fire. He must have conjured the man up.
Stephen wasn’t sure what he expected, but the short bald man was not it. For his size, the man packed a wallop of a voice.
“Here now! What’s all this caterwauling?”
The women quieted and Jennifer’s head jerked up, her eyes wide with distress.
“Daughter. Come here.”
At least the man recognized his daughter. His resounding voice commanded her to come to him. Stephen held his breath. Everyone else in the room may deny his existence, but if her father dared to raise a hand to her, he would make his presence known—rather quickly. And forcefully, if necessary.
Jennifer dragged her feet as she stepped forward. When the man opened his arms, surprise etched her features. Then she ran.
Stephen sent another prayer of thanks toward heaven as her father gathered his daughter against his chest. He couldn’t swear if the man shed a tear, but his body shook.
Well, that’s that. Time to go.
Without drawing attention, he stepped close to Isabella. At least he assumed the girl was Jennifer’s sister. “Excuse me.”
“Oh.” She whirled around. “Forgive us. We are so glad to have Jennifer home. I am Isabella.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you. Stephen Radbourn.” He gave a slight bow.
Jennifer’s mother stepped toward him with an outstretched hand. “Welcome to my home. And thank you for bringing our daughter to us.”
“You’re welcome, Lady Gascoyne. It was my pleasure.”
“We are so grateful.” She swiped a tear from her cheek.
“Now, now. What must your gentleman friend think of us?” Jennifer’s father gave a loud sound of clearing his throat. “Introduce us.”
All teary eyed and the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen, Jennifer met his gaze. When she smiled, his heart turned over.
“Father, I want you to meet Captain Stephen Radbourn. Captain Radbourn, th
is is my father, Marquess of Salisbury.”
Stephen’s tongue tripped over her use of his surname from Jennifer’s lips. But then her father need not know how close the couple had become. He quickly recovered. Giving the appropriated leg, he said, “My Lord Marquess.”
“Captain Radbourn, no need for all of that. Please accept my sincere thanks.” He grabbed Stephen’s hand and shook with the strength of a drowning man securing a life line.
“No thanks necessary, Your Lordship. Your daughter saved my life.”
“I would like to hear about everything. But for now, I want to speak with my daughter.”
“I understand. My family awaits my arrival. Please forgive me if I do not stay. With your permission, I shall take my leave.”
“Of course, Captain. I will send my man around and you will let him know when it is convenient. I look forward to your rendering.”
“Your Lordship.” He gave a nod, then stepped to Jennifer’s mother. “Marchioness.”
“Thank you, Captain.” Her blue eyes glowed with gratitude.
“I will see you out,” Jennifer said.
He froze. She’d just been reunited with her family and she dared to leave the room with him? Before he could ponder further, she twirled and led the way. He swallowed the lump in his throat, straightened to his full height, and followed.
Once in the foyer, reality hit her square in the face.
Oh my God. He’s walking out of my life.
She did not want to lose Stephen. It was too soon. He’d been correct in his assumption of her parents’ acceptance, but she couldn’t let him walk out that door. For if he did, she had the sinking feeling, she’d never see him again. He’d be gone from her life. And she’d never get him back.
She wanted to cry, beg, plead, Please don’t go. Take me with you. What about me? Don’t you care?
She could see it now. The disgrace she brought her family again as he pried her fingers from his shirt, while she clung to him yelling at the top of her lungs I Love You.
Instead, she drew on any shred of sensibility she possessed, cocked her head and said, “You were right.”
“Right? About what?”
“My family.” She raised tear filled eyes to meet his.
Understanding came over his face. “I’m happy for you. There is nothing like a parent’s love.”
“Thank you.”
“It is I who should thank you. You saved my life. I will never forget.”
There he went. Talking as if this was the end. Would she never see him again? Oh God. How would she stand the pain? He took her hand and barely brushed his lips over her fingers.
“Goodbye.”
She couldn’t speak. Tears clogged her throat. Her wayward heart gave a thud of despair.
He dragged his fingers through his hair, clearly uncomfortable. Then he conveyed with his eyes what he could not put into words.
All too soon—he was gone.
She watched through tears, until the carriage was only a small dot in the distance.
“Come child.” Martha Gascoyne put her arms around her daughter and led her back inside. Father stood with Isabella while Mother aimed her toward the sofa. “Darling, you must be exhausted. Let’s get you upstairs. Marie will unpack for you. After a nice nap you can tell us all about your adventure.”
Jennifer opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Her mother patted her on the shoulder.
“Doesn’t a nap sound like just the thing, dear?”
“I’ll take her up, Mother.” Isabella hurried to Jennifer’s side. “We have so much to catch up on.”
Arm in arm, Jennifer went with her sister out the set of doors and up the grand staircase. She put one foot in front of the other, one step at a time. With each stride a large stone settled in her stomach. Another step, another stone. The end of her world suddenly seemed within sight. In the twinkling of an eye, she would have traded her homecoming for a life with Stephen—if only he would have asked.
Exhausted, drained and empty, Jennifer moved to the dressing table. The maid left some time ago, so she picked up the pearl handled brush and sat on the velvet covered stool. Everything in her room was the same as when she left. Every stick of furniture, every personal item. Even her clothes looked as though they’d not been touched.
Brushing her hair soothed and comforted her. She lifted one silky curl and paused. A soft knock landed on her bedchamber door. Isabella stuck her head around the door.
“Good. You’re still up.” She slipped inside and quietly closed the door, scampered to the bed and flopped on her stomach upon the counterpane. “I can’t wait any longer. You’ve got to tell me about the captain.”
Jen met her sister’s eyes in the mirror. “The captain?”
“The man who brought you home. Who is he? Where did you meet him? He said you saved his life.” She drew a quick breath. “I simply cannot wait until tomorrow for you to tell me.”
Mirrors didn’t lie. But she was surprised to see the corner of her mouth lift in response—the first instance she’d felt her spirits rise since Stephen left. “Oh. That captain. What about him?”
Isabella rolled off the bed and landed perfectly on her feet. Treading to the vanity, she took the brush from Jennifer’s fingers. “Remember when we used to brush each other’s hair before we went to bed, just like this? We would talk and tell each other our secrets.”
“That seems like a long time ago,” Jennifer said with a sigh.
“It seems like yesterday.” Isabella devotedly ran the brush through the vibrant curls twirling one around her finger.
Yes. Like yesterday.
Jennifer shoved melancholy away. Thinking to tease her sister she said, “Goodness, Isabella. I’m tired.”
“No you’re not. You’re still awake. I’ll bet you’re just as excited as I am. Gosh, Jen. I’m so glad you’re home.” She leaned down and threw her arms around Jennifer with vigor.
“Me too.” She met her sister’s gaze reflecting in the mirror. “I was scared.”
“Why? Was he mean to you?”
“Huh? Uh, no.” Jennifer stood and strolled to the bed. She climbed upon the counterpane. “I was afraid to come home. Afraid Dad would still be mad and wouldn’t let me in the house.”
“Oh, Jen. If you’d seen him after you left. He nearly had a heart attack. Blamed himself.” Isabella climbed upon the bed beside her.
Jennifer couldn’t image her father being vulnerable.
“Johnny disappeared too, so we knew you’d run away with him. I thought it was the most romantic thing in the world.” Isabella rolled her eyes in a dreamy way. “You had run off to Gretna Green.”
“I did. I married Johnny.”
“Then, when so much time passed without a word from you . . .” Isabella sniffed. “We hoped and prayed you were alive.”
Jennifer felt like the worst kind of fool. She’d brought more than embarrassment to her family. Sorrow. Heartache. Misery.
“Father said he would not accept a second son for a son-in-law. He refused Johnny. We sailed to India.”
“India? That’s so far away. Jen, couldn’t you have sent one letter?”
One letter didn’t seem like too much—now. Now that she knew her family still loved her. Now that she knew they had not forsaken her. Anguish pierced her chest. She’d let them down. At the moment, this information was simply too much for her weary mind to handle. She didn’t deserve their love. Tears flowed heedlessly down her cheek.
“Oh, Jen. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sorry.”
“No, Isabella. You didn’t do anything. I disgraced Father. I’m so ashamed.” Jennifer hiccupped. “I made a mess of everything.”
“Mother says time heals all wounds. You just wait and see.”
Isabella handed her a handkerchief.
“I’m glad you haven’t changed, Isabella.” She smiled hoping to relieve some tension.
“Was it so bad,” Isabella asked. “Are you ready to talk about it? What happened to Johnny?”
Chapter 23
Fire had been known to hypnotize a person. Stephen watched the flames lick the burning logs. Stared, as if the intensity of the blue blaze could erase the last two years from his memory. He breathed deep. Even the comforts of home had not lessened his anguish. His uncle’s favorite leather chair, the hint of tobacco permeating the room, all things familiar yet incapable of soothing his anxiety. Uncle, aunt, family. Their love consoled, but the worry in their eyes distressed him further. And Kat. The little minx.
Home, at last, only to find Kat gone. From what he gleaned from his uncle, his little sister had planned to rescue him just before she got carried off. Her and her damn hare-brained ideas. But then, that was Kat. And now she’d gone to Charity’s. He still couldn’t believe his sister’s childhood friend was a Viscountess.
“Wonderful meal, Elizabeth. Roasted duckling is my favorite.” Albert said as he entered the drawing room with his wife on his arm.
“Thank you, Albert. I only suggested the menu. Roasted duckling was once Stephen’s favorite too. Although you didn’t eat much.” She directed her last comment to Stephen.
“Dinner was very good, Aunt Elizabeth. We don’t get such luxuries on ship.”
“Stephen, you’ve lost so much weight. Are you well?” Concern filled her age-old eyes.
The True One (One and Only Series Book 2) Page 18
