Captain Jack’s Woman / A Gentleman's Honor

Chapter 17

The cottage loomed out of the dark, squat and solid, tucked into the protection of the bank behind it. Jack rode straight to the stable. He dismounted, then lifted Kit down. “Go in. The fire should be lit; there’s wood beside it and towels in the wardrobe. I’ll take care of Delia.”

Kit stared through the darkness but couldn’t make out his expression. Dully, she nodded and headed for the cottage door. His last comment was obviously intended to let her know she’d have time to get undressed and dried before he came in. Doubtless there’d be a robe or something in the wardrobe for her to wrap herself in. Presumably, getting into her breeches the other night had slaked Jack’s lust, atleast for the present. Either that, or the drenching had doused his ardor. Kit grimaced and reached for the latch.

The main room was lit by the red glow of a smoldering log. With a sigh, Kit fell to her knees on the mat in front of the fireplace. The wood was in a basket to one side. She laid logs on the flames, then sat back and watched them catch. The warmth slowly thawed her chilled muscles. With another sigh, she struggled to her feet.

There were towels on the top shelf of the wardrobe. Kit drew down an armful of blessedly dry linen and went to the fire. Leaving the pile on the end of the bed, she spread one towel on the mat, then pulled up a chair and proceeded to struggle out of her wet clothes. Hat, muffler, and coat she draped on the chair. She sat and pulled off her boots, then knelt on one end of the towel and, after one wary glance at the door, pulled her shirt over her head.

It was a battle to free her shoulders and arms, but eventually she managed it. Her bands were even more trouble, with the knot pulled tight and the sodden material clinging to her skin. She ran through her repertoire of curses before the knot finally gave way. It was a relief to unwind the yards of material and free her breasts.

Kit dropped the long band on the towel and sat back on her heels, letting the fire chase away her chills. Reaching back, she tugged a towel from the pile. Bending forward, she draped the towel over her neck, running the ends over her curls, scattering droplets into the fire. Once her hair had stopped dripping, she dried her arms and back, then started on her breasts.

The door opened.

Kit turned with a gasp, the towel clutched to her chest.

Jack stood in the doorway, looking for all the world as if he’d just forgotten what he’d come in to do. A deceptive expression. He’d come in to seduce Kit Cranmer, and there wasn’t anything capable of making him forget that. His stunned look was due to the vision before him-Kit, bare to the waist, kneeling before his fire, her curls burnished by the flames. Kit, with wide eyes darkening from amethyst to violet, the towel clutched to her chest totally failing to conceal the twin peaks of her breasts jutting provocatively on either side, the long line of her legs revealed by her wet breeches.

Slowly, Jack shut the door, his eyes never leaving the woman silhouetted by the flames. Without turning, he slid the bolt home. He crossed to the table and laid his pistol down before shrugging out of his coat.

Held immobile by his silver gaze, Kit watched, helplessly transfixed. When he pulled his shirt over his head, she blinked free only to be mesmerized by the play of light over the muscles of his chest. She didn’t notice him pause to release his hair, but it was swinging free, brown streaked with gold, brushing his shoulders, when he knelt on the towel beside her.

His hands closed on her bare shoulders. Gently, he drew her to face him.

Kit looked deep into eyes of brightest silver burnished with passion. Desire burned, a steady flame in their depths. Her mouth went dry. She shuddered, swept by a force beyond her experience.

Jack watched burgeoning passion turn Kit’s eyes to glowing purple. When her tongue came out to moisten her lips, he judged it safe to reach for the towel. She relinquished it without protest. He glanced down at the treasure now completely revealed and watched as, caressed by his ardent gaze, her nipples crinkled tight.

With a slow smile of satisfaction, and anticipation, Jack returned his gaze to her face, noting her wide eyes and the lips already parted for his kiss.

Kit could barely breathe as Jack brought his hands up, skimming the contours of her neck, to cradle her face, his long fingers sliding into her curls. For a moment, he paused, his eyes holding hers, an unanswered question in their silvered depths.

She wanted this, she realized. Every bit as much as he did. In that instant, Kit made her decision. She put aside all the precepts of twenty-two years of training and reached for her heart’s desire.

As Jack bent his head, she rose on her knees to meet him.

Jack took her mouth in a burning kiss, slanting his head as she opened to his penetration. Kit braced her hands against his upper chest and leaned into his caress. In seconds, her blood was alight, ignited by his fire.

Thank God her hands were free-free to roam the warm expanse of male skin, to caress the bands of hard muscle, to tangle in the springy brown hair. Kit’s questing fingers found a hidden nipple. To her delight, she felt it harden to her touch. Hands spread, she explored the ridges of muscle above his waist before moving on to his broad back. Her hands found water. He was still wet.

Kit drew back from their duel of tongues. Jack’s brow quirked. He reached for her, but she stayed him, one small hand braced against his chest as she reached for a towel.

A droplet of water fell from his hair and trickled, unheeded, down his chest. Kit saw it. She smiled, then leaned forward and licked it off. Jack shuddered and closed his eyes, his hands fisting by his sides.

Kit’s seductive smile grew. She set to work drying his chest, working the towel in small circles, moving with a deliberate lack of haste. She stood and moved behind him to towel his back.

Jack sat on his heels and let her, held in thrall by her sensuous attentions. The tantalizing play of the towel would have melted a statue. Or at least sent it up in flames. His body was nearing that state.

When she reappeared before him, he caught her hands and drew her down to her knees again, taking the towel and tossing it aside. But he didn’t pull her into his arms. He reached for her breasts, taking one luscious mound in each hand, squeezing gently, then circling the taut nipples with his thumbs.

Kit’s eyes closed. She swayed toward Jack, her senses overloaded.

Jack kissed her, letting his hands drop to her waist. She was going too fast-he wanted to spin out her time as long as he possibly could. He didn’t want her reaching her peak just yet-he had other plans.

The kiss slowed Kit down, easing her from a full boil to a bubbling simmer. Instinctively, she realized Jack wanted her in that state. She didn’t know why, but conundrums were beyond her. His hands had moved to the fastenings of her breeches. The wet fabric trapped the buttons. It took the combined efforts of them both to win through. Once the flap was open, Jack eased the breeches down, running his hands over the cool skin of her buttocks.

Kit wriggled her hips free of the clinging folds, thanking all her angels that her riding breeches were not as tight as her inexpressibles. If she’d been wearing them tonight, she felt sure he’d have ripped them from her. At Jack’s urging, she stood. He drew the breeches to her feet and helped her from them. But before she could sink to her knees again, his hands fastened about her hips, holding her where she was, totally naked before him.

For one long moment, Jack surveyed her beauty. Then he bent his head to pay homage.

Kit’s gasp when his lips burned her navel echoed in the quiet room. Her fingers threaded into his hair; her hands clutched his head. She felt the thrust of his tongue, languid and rhythmic, and her flesh caught fire. When his lips finally moved on, her sigh filled the room.

She waited to be released, but Jack hadn’t finished. His tongue explored the curve of her hip. Kit felt his hands shift down and around until each large palm cupped a firm buttock. His fingers gripped her, holding her prisoner. She smiled-she wasn’t about to try to escape.

Then he shifted, settling lower on his knees. His lips dipped downward. And inward.

“Jack!” Kit’s shocked protest ended in a whimper of pleasure. Her knees lost all ability to support her, but Jack held her steady as his lips closed over the bright curls at the apex of her thighs and his tongue probed the soft flesh they concealed.

Kit swayed, eyes closed. She’d wanted him at her feet, but this wasn’t what she’d meant.This was beyond scandalous-it was a damned sight beyond anything Amy could even dream. Kit shuddered, and her head fell back. Her mind fragmented. Jack shifted his hold and lifted her left leg, hooking her knee over his shoulder, trailing hot kisses back up the satiny flesh of her inner thigh before settling to plunder her softness with the same unrelenting thoroughness he’d used earlier on her mouth.

Kit couldn’t think. Her entire consciousness was centered on that point where Jack’s hot mouth and even hotter tongue were drawing an answering heat from her. Her hands dropped to his shoulders, her nails sinking deep in convulsive reaction.

Concentrating on every spasm of her response, Jack knew when she approached the point beyond which her climax would become unavoidable. He changed tack, drawing her back from the brink, letting the flames he’d fanned die to a smolder before patiently stoking them to a blaze once more. From nibbling kisses about the curl-covered mound, he progressed to a slow exploration of the heated flesh that surrounded the entrance to her secret cave.

He had her balanced perfectly; her knee on his shoulder let him steady her with that hand alone, leaving his left hand free to caress her bottom. Her skin was damp, but not from the rain. His hand skimmed one ripe hemisphere, then his fingers sought the cleft between, sliding down to find the spot where a little pressure went a long way. Kit’s shuddering gasp told him he’d found it. He moved her knee, opening her fully, pausing to circle the swollen bud of her passion with his tongue before plundering the delights of her honey-filled cave.

He wondered how long she could take it. How long could he?

Sensation after sensation crashed through Kit. She felt battered by the volleys of passion rocketing along her veins. Hypersensitized, she was agonizingly aware of every erotic move Jack made. Wantonly, she abandoned herself to delight, reveling in the shocking intimacy. Again and again, he brought her to the point where she could sense those odd ripples of tension building within her. Then his attention would wander, slowing her down when she wanted to rush headlong to her fate. When he did it again, she moaned her displeasure. She struggled in his hold. “Damn you, Jack!” But she couldn’t tell him to stop; she didn’t know what she wanted.

But she was quite sure he did. She heard his deep chuckle, and felt its reverberations through her hands. He drew back to look up at her, his eyes alight with a searing silver flame. “Had enough?”

“Yes-no!” Kit glared as best she could, but it was a weak effort.

Jack laughed and let her knee down. He got to his feet and Kit swayed into him. His lips found hers and she tasted her nectar on his lips and tongue. The flames started to build again.

Then Jack drew away. Kit slumped against him, too weak to protest. He held her, his hands roaming her silken back, marveling at the texture of her skin. She was well and truly primed, ready to explode. And, thank Christ, he was still in control. God knew how long that would last.

Kit moaned her disapproval and lifted her face for his kiss. Jack obliged but kept the kiss light. He disengaged, and his lips brushed hers. “I take it that means you want me inside you?”

Kit blinked.

She couldn’t believe her ears. After what he’d just done to her-after what she’d just let him do to her-he wanted her to say it. Aloud. She set her lips mutinously.

He raised his brows.

“Yes, damn you! I want you to put that bloody sword of yours inside me. All right?”

Jack crowed once in triumph, then swept her up into his arms. “Far be it from me to disappoint a lady.” In two strides, he reached the bed. It wasn’t his bed at the Castle, with its silken sheets, but it would do for now. The wind howled about the eaves as he laid Kit down, pulling the covers from under her. They wouldn’t need them for an hour or two.

Deposited in the middle of the bed, Kit fought an automatic urge to cover her nakedness. But Jack’s hungry gaze dispelled her inhibitions. She stretched, catlike, settling herself on the pillows, and watched him undress.

His boots came off first, then he stood and peeled off his wet breeches. Kit’s heart leapt to her mouth when she saw what she’d previously only felt. Jack reached for a towel and dried his legs. When he turned his attention to what hung between them, Kit’s mouth went dry. It had to be impossible, surely? But it was patently obvious that Jack had been accommodated by other women, although she couldn’t imagine how.

A log settled in the hearth, sending sparks flying, recalling Jack to his duties as host. Dropping the towel, he crouched to tend the fire.

Kit drew a deep breath, then another. It would work-he knew what he was doing, even if she didn’t. He wouldn’t hurt her, she knew that. How was it going to feel, having that pushed inside her?

She forced her mind to other things-to the sheen of the flames on his skin, to the sculpted muscle covering his large frame. Her gaze was drawn to a number of scars scattered randomly over him. One in particular held her attention, a long gash on the inside of his left knee, highlighted by the flames as he stood and turned toward her.

His weight bowed the bed, rolling her into his arms. Kit lost all hope of retaining any degree of lucidity the instant his lips met hers.

Jack savored the taste of her, relishing the ardor he sensed beneath her calm. She’d cooled somewhat, but all that meant was that he’d have the pleasure of stoking her flames yet again. Regardless of her previous experience, he had every intention of making sure this was one night, one time, one man she’d never forget. He set his mind and his hands to the task.

His knowing fingers searched and found all her points of passion, those particular areas where she was most sensitive. The lower curve of her buttocks quickly became his favorite-she heated in an instant at the lightest caress. Anything more definite brought a moan to her lips. Satisfied she was safe from any chill, Jack gathered her to him, pressing her slim length to him, from shoulder to knee. But before he could roll her beneath him, he was seduced by the sensation of hot silken skin sliding sensuously over him.

Kit responded instinctively to the novel texture of Jack’s body. She’d never felt anything like it before. Consumed by curiosity, she rubbed her soft thighs against his rough hardness, marveling at the friction of his hair against her skin, at the contrast between his lean muscle and her yielding flesh.

She sensed the hiatus in Jack’s attention and assumed it was her turn to explore. She’d made her decision; there was no reason to shortchange herself. Whatever penance she’d pay would be the same. Opening her eyes, she spread her hands across his chest and wondered at the width of the muscles that spanned it. She glanced into Jack’s face and found his eyes shut, his jaw set, his lips thin.

Smiling, she moved her hands lower and watched the tension in his face, his whole frame, grow. Tentatively, she reached for him, taking him between her hands as she had two nights before. Her fingers moved up the throbbing shaft and found the rounded head. A bead of moisture clung to her fingers.

Jack’s control snapped. He forgot all thoughts of slow mutual torture, consumed by the need to douse the flames she’d set raging through him. His heat needed hers to come to fruition. In one smooth move, he pulled her beneath him, coming over her to settle on his elbows.

Kit’s gasp was lost as Jack’s mouth took hers in a relentless plunder of her senses. His ringers laced through her curls, holding her head steady while he ravished her mouth, sending heated longing down every nerve. His hips were heavy on hers, pressing her into the bed. She welcomed his weight and wanted more but he ignored her tugging. She felt him shift slightly, then his hand slipped between them to expertly caress the soft flesh between her thighs. Kit moaned and opened to his fingers, her breath catching as they slid slowly into her. She felt his thumb flick against her and sparks flew. The furnace deep within her ignited.

His hand withdrew and she frowned and shook her head, too breathless to find words to protest. She writhed, searching mindlessly for fulfillment. Then she felt his thighs press heavily between hers, nudging them farther apart. Smooth, hard pressure eased her aching flesh.

That was what she wanted. Kit moaned and tilted her hips in instinctive invitation.

Despite the mists of lust clouding his mind, Jack’s faculties still functioned. They registered the unexpected tension in the ligaments of Kit’s thighs and passed the information on.

With an effort, Jack drew his lips from Kit’s. His head bowed, he drew a deep breath, then shook his head to clear it of the irritating niggle that was threatening to spoil his evening. But that only made the evidence more obvious. Dammit! It was as if she’d never spread her legs before. He frowned, and Kit moaned impatiently. Jack shook aside his ridiculous fancy. The woman writhing in urgent entreaty beneath him had most assuredly been this way before. He flexed his hips and entered her, slowly, letting her heat welcome him, the slickness of her arousal smoothing his way.

Three inches in, the truth hit him like a sledgehammer.

Jack froze. In stunned disbelief, he stared at the woman lying naked in his arms, her creamy skin flushed with passion, her features rapt, her mind centered on the place where their bodies joined. He could feel her tightening about him, even though he was barely inside her.

“Christ!” Jack dropped his head, his jaw resting on her cheekbone.

Kit opened her eyes, bewildered and bemused.

Jack didn’t look at her. He couldn’t. “Kit, are you a virgin?”

Her silence was answer enough, but he needed to hear it, incontrovertible, from her lips. “Dammit, woman! Are you?”

Kit’s soft “Yes,” was drowned by Jack’s groan. She felt him tense; his body went rigid. Then, slowly, he drew away.

The effort nearly killed him, but Jack forced his body to compliance. He pulled out of her clinging heat, then abruptly sat up and swung his feet to the floor. He dropped his head in his hands, shutting out the temptation to look at her. If he did, he’d lose the battle with his body, which was already in flaming rebellion.

He had to think. It wasn’t just that she was a virgin and he’d long ago given up deflowering the little dears. There was something more significant about the fact. With a groan, he struggled to summon his wits from their preoccupation with attaining a goal he was no longer sure it was safe to gain.

Kit frowned at the broad back, which was all of Jack she could see. Something had given her away, but with passion beating steady in her veins, she was in no mood to pander to any peculiar rakish whim. She’d learned from her cousins that virgins were not the favored fare of rakes, the consensus being that experienced women gave better value besides being free of potential complications. It was too bad if Jack subscribed to such nonsense. He’d brought her this far; she’d be damned if she’d leave his bed untried.

When he gave no sign of coming to his senses and instantly returning to her arms, Kit sat up. Apparently, if she wished to get his mind back where she wanted it, and his body along with it, she was going to have to make her wishes plain.

She came up on her knees on the bed close behind him. Slowly, she placed her hands on his back, spreading the fingers wide, then sliding them around, pushing under his arms until she’d reached as far as she could. She clung to him, pressing her breasts, her hips, against his back, her fingers sinking into the deep muscles of his chest.

Jack stiffened. His head came up; his hands dropped, clenched, to his knees.

Kit nuzzled his neck, and whispered softly in his ear. “Jack? Please? Someone has to do it. I want it to be you.”

The thought that this was the first time in his entire career he’d felt at a disadvantage in a bedroom floated through Jack’s fevered brain. He couldn’t think with her so close, in her present state. There was something important about her being a virgin that he should have grasped, but the elusive fact slipped further away as Kit laid her cheek against his shoulder.

“Jack? Please?”

What man of flesh and blood could resist such a plea? He certainly couldn’t.

With a sigh of defeat, Jack pushed aside the disturbing conviction that he was about to commit an irrevocable act which would seal his fate forever, and turned. Kit was right behind him, waiting, her expression anxious.

Her heart in her mouth, Kit met Jack’s gaze, smoldering silver fire. Would he? When his eyes held hers, as if trying to see beyond the passion of the moment, her confidence faltered. Her arms dropped to her sides. The silver gaze fell to her parted lips, then to her breasts, rising and falling rapidly, and finally, to the auburn curls between her widespread thighs.

Jack groaned and took her to the sheets, turning her into his arms. “Hell only knows, Kit Cranmer, but you’re the most wanton virgin I’ve ever known.”

It was the last lucid thought either of them had. Their lips met in a frenzy of need, too long denied to be gentle. The fire of their passion engulfed them, obliterating any lingering reservations. When Jack swung over her, Kit accepted his weight eagerly, her hands kneading his back in frantic entreaty.

Eyes closed, savoring the feel of her slim body arching against his, Jack grimaced. She was going to try his control as it had never been tried before. “Bend your knees up. It’ll make it easier.”

Kit complied with the rough command, too far gone in longing to be concerned over the intimate and vulnerable position. She felt his fingers part her, then hardness, smooth and solid, entered her. The pressure built as he pushed farther, inexorably inward, forcing her heated flesh to yield him passage. There was no pain, but she felt the tension when he abutted the barrier that marked her incontrovertibly virgin. To her dismay, he pulled back. Kit clamped her muscles tight to hold him within her.

Braced above her, he gave a chuckle that changed halfway through to a groan. “Relax.”

Passion permitted her a spurt of resentment. Relax? He might have done this countless times before, but he knew she was a novice. Did he have any idea what it felt like, to have him invading her body in such an intimate way? At the thought, Kit pressed her head back into the pillow. She moaned, with relief, with anticipation, as she felt him return, surging up to the barrier, only to stop and retreat again.

Gradually, as he repeated the motion, Kit caught his rhythm. Instinctively, she matched it, tightening as he withdrew, relaxing as he entered. Even through her slickness, she could feel the friction in her flesh. A flame of a different sort grew steadily, ripples of tension concealed within it.

Jack’s groan was encouraging. He dropped from his elbows, the pressure of his chest soothing her aching breasts. Kit hugged him to her. Her lips sought his, every bit as fervent as he. Her breath was suspended when his tongue delved deep. The sensation that streaked through her was quite different now that he was inside her. Her tension built. She felt her body arch hard against his, her hips lifting, searching. One large hand pushed under her until it cradled her buttocks. At the limit of his next outward movement, the long fingers slipped between her thighs, to the point of their union. And pressed.

Kit came off the bed, arching wildly in the grip of a passion she’d no hope of controlling. In desperate need of air, she dragged her lips from Jack’s, pressing her head back into the pillows. She felt him thrust powerfully and a fiery pain flared inside. Her fingers dug into his back as he plunged deep into her body. Abruptly, the pain of his invasion disappeared in an explosion of delicious release, her tension peaking and overflowing in intense ripples through her straining muscles, the flames he’d stoked transforming pain to pleasure.

It took some minutes before Kit’s mind registered anything beyond the warmth left behind by the flames. They continued to flicker, drawing her back to reality and the fact that. Jack was holding still, his cheek pressed hard against her hair, his breathing a ragged, desperate sound by her ear. Her senses returned and she felt the steady throb of him, deep against her womb.

It was torture of the most exquisite sort, but Jack held still, every muscle clenched with the effort. He should have expected it. The damn woman had done everything she could to bring him low so of course she’d climax at just that moment. As their heartbeats mingled, the tension of her release dwindled. Her body’s instinctive response to his invasion subsided as her muscles adapted to the novelty of having him buried inside her. When her hips tilted slightly, experimentally, as if to draw him deeper, he released the breath he’d been holding and started to move.

Kit responded immediately, caught by the discovery of how easily he rode her now that there was no barrier holding him back. His lips returned to hers and she accepted his kiss eagerly, her body straining against his as sensation washed through her. The tight buds of her nipples brushed his chest, over and over. With something very like awe, she felt that odd tension burgeoning once more, swelling and growing and expanding within her.

Jack released her lips, his breathing labored. His thrusts rocked her; she urged him on, her hips meeting his, her hands urgent on his back.

“Jack!” Kit’s breath caught on a sob.

Her second climax overtook her, hurling her into the limbo of lovers. She was deaf to Jack’s triumphant shout as he followed her.

Firelight filled the room with shifting shadows, gilding the heavy musculature of Jack’s back as he stood at the end of the bed and stared, frowning, at the woman curled naked under the sheet.

The vision of how she’d looked, sprawled, sated and at peace beneath him, shook him. It took no effort to conjure up the rosy-tipped breasts, firm and proud, the tiny waist and those hips that had defeated him under the tree. And her legs-long and slender, thighs firm and strong from riding. She’d given him the ride of his life. He glanced down, and was relieved to see the memory hadn’t stirred him beyond mild interest. She was exhausted-more from her own excesses than his. He’d no plans to mount her again that night.

Jack took a long sip of brandy from the glass in his hand. She’d fallen asleep virtually instantaneously the first time. He’d held her cradled in his arms, tired but not ready to sleep, prey to an emotion he couldn’t define. He’d forgotten it when she’d stirred. Her lids had fluttered, then opened wide, the amethyst eyes large and shining. He’d been watching, interested to see her reaction. Having been in the same position often before, he’d been prepared for anything from shocked reproaches to smug self-satisfaction. He hadn’t been prepared for the smile of dazzling beauty that had lit her face, or the warm tenderness in her eyes. And even less prepared for the kiss she’d bestowed on him.

His body had reacted with a vengeance. His control in abeyance, he’d been unable to rein in the passion that had flared. When her fingers had touched him, stroked him, he’d been rigid and ready for her. He’d heard her chuckle, delighted with his response as she continued to caress him.

“You fool! You’ll be sore enough as it is.”

She’d only laughed, a low, husky, mind-numbing sound that had frazzled his good intentions. “I’m not sore at all.”

He’d lain on his back and tried to ignore her. She’d come over him, her breasts brushing his chest, to kiss him long and lingeringly, exploring his mouth as he had hers. His control had been in tatters by the time she’d drawn back to whisper against his lips: “I want you Jack. Inside me. Now.”

How he’d remained still in the face of such an invitation he’d never know. But she hadn’t been defeated. “I’m hot and wet for you, Jack. See?” And the brazen woman had caught his hand and guided his fingers to where her warm honey was spilling onto her thighs.

With a groan, he’d delved deep and heard her breath catch. An instant later, he’d rolled her onto her back and, with one powerful thrust, had sheathed himself to the hilt in her welcoming warmth. And it hadn’t stopped there.

He’d tried to remind himself she was new to the game, but her responses drove him far beyond rational thought. However hard he pushed her, she met him and urged him on, matching his passion with hers. Of her own volition, she’d wrapped her long legs about his waist, opening to him completely. As her tension had mounted a second time, he’d remembered what he’d promised himself.

“Open your eyes.” Thankfully, she’d responded to his gravelly command, ground out through clenched teeth. His next thrust had sent her spiraling over the precipice. As her lids drooped, he’d closed his own eyes in satisfaction. Her eyes had gone black.

Sensing that her release had been total, he’d opened her even wider and thrust deeply, seeking his own ticket to heaven in her fire. He’d found it.

When next he’d been able to sense anything, he’d felt her soft breath on his cheek. She’d fallen asleep while he was still inside her, a small, satisfied smile on her lips. Feeling ridiculously pleased with himself, he’d held her close and turned to his side, careful not to disturb their union. He’d surrendered to sleep, feeling her heartbeat in his veins.

He’d woken ten minutes ago. After gathering his wits, he’d carefully unwound their tangled limbs and pulled the sheets over her. Then headed for the brandy.

The intensity of his satisfaction was one thing. What was much more worrying was this other feeling, an irrational emotion which the events of the night had caused to grow alarmingly. Her whispered plea had been his undoing, in more ways than one.

Jack snorted and sipped his brandy, raising his head to listen to the storm as it swept past. The wind was still howling; the rain was still drumming against the shutters. There’d been a number of cracks of thunder; from them, he judged the worst was past. Outside. Inside, he was far from convinced Kit’s seduction was the end of anything. It felt much more like a beginning.

His eyes traced the curves concealed beneath the sheet. If it’d just been lust, all would be well, but what he felt for the damn woman went far beyond that. Jack grimaced. No doubt George could define the emotion for him, but he, of his own volition, wasn’t ready to do so yet. He didn’t trust the feeling-he’d wait to see what came next. Who knew how she’d behave tomorrow-she’d been one surprise after another thus far.

With a sigh, Jack drained the glass and replaced it on the table. He stoked the fire, then joined Kit between the sheets. She stirred and, in her sleep, snuggled closer. Jack smiled and turned on his side, drawing her to him, curving her back into his chest. He heard her contented sigh as she settled under his arm. At least he wouldn’t have to spend any more nights following her home through the dark.