How To Please a Pirate (26 page)

Lady Curtmantle had been the soul of proper
behavior, confessing to Jacquelyn on her most recent visit her
disgust over her husband’s attempt at Hyacinth’s ruination. Of
course, there was that exposed nipple incident. But Jacquelyn had
it on good authority that some grand ladies were now appearing in
London with not one but both pink nubs rouged and powdered and
proudly on display. A show of ankle was deemed shockingly fast, but
exposed nipples as part of a lady’s décolletage was not considered
particularly risqué for an evening fete. Lady Curtmantle might
conceivably have made an honest mistake.

But Jacquelyn doubted it.

And lately, Catherine Curtmantle had been
calling with maddening regularity. Just social visits and if
Gabriel was unavailable, the baroness seemed just as pleased to
bore Jacquelyn with inane pleasantries. Her conversation was
mindless drivel for which Jacquelyn had little patience and less
time, but she bore it in the interest of keeping peace with their
neighbor to the north.

“Tell her I’ll be down directly,” Jacquelyn
said through the door as she stepped into her panniers. Her empty
stomach rumbled. Jacquelyn hadn’t taken any nourishment since her
lost breakfast, but now her nausea was fading. “Oh! And see if Mrs.
Beadle’s gooseberry pie is ready to serve.”

If her mouth was full of pie, Lady Curtmantle
couldn’t talk so much. Jacquelyn would figure out a way to rid
herself of the baroness. Then she’d deal with the stickier problem
of how to tell Gabriel she was bearing his child.

At least, this proves he’s capable of
getting an heir
, Jacquelyn thought wryly, remembering the way
she’d baited him that first day. She’d intended bullying Gabriel
into doing what was necessary for the estate.

Now she wished with all her heart he was free
to do what was necessary by her.

* * *

“Ah, Mistress,” the baroness said, rising to
drop a shallow curtsey when Jacquelyn entered the solar. “How
lovely to see you—oh! Perhaps I’ve come at a bad time. You don’t
look at all yourself. So pale. I do hope you’re quite well.”

Jacquelyn parried the woman’s pointed
inquisition and steered the conversation to safer ground. They made
small talk over a cup of excellent tea and Lady Curtmantle pushed
her gooseberry pie around her plate a few times while Jacquelyn
told her of Gabriel’s plans for the new mill.

“You know, Jacquelyn—may I call you
Jacquelyn?” the baroness asked and then hurried on without waiting
for a reply. “One of the reasons I’ve been calling so often of late
is that I care deeply about Lord Drake’s happiness. I must tell
you, I’m frightfully concerned.”

“Really?” Jacquelyn set her teacup down and
leveled her gaze on Lady Curtmantle. “Given your history with him,
I find your concern difficult to accept.”

“Yes, well.
Touché
, Mistress. He has
confided in you, I see.” The baroness had the grace to blush
slightly. “I admit it. I was young and lusty and in retrospect,
unbelievably stupid. Alas for the past. I could not change it even
if I would, but given your present situation with him, I doubt
you’re in a position to sling stones.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” she said. “Anyone with eyes
can see that you and Gabriel are involved, having an
affaire du
Coeur
, playing hide the sausage, whatever you like to call
it.”

Jacquelyn was glad she’d abandoned her tea.
She’d have choked on it by now.

The baroness sighed. “He’s a fine figure of a
man, Gabriel Drake. I can’t fault you for succumbing to him.”

Jacquelyn rose shakily to her feet. After
catching them in the armory, Father Eustace might suspect their
relationship had grown, but he’d not say a word to anyone. If Lady
Curtmantle knew, who else had noticed the irresistible attraction
between her and Gabriel?

“Sit down, my dear. We are not finished. Now,
it is no shocking thing for a man in Gabriel’s position to keep a
mistress,” Lady Curtmantle went on. “But it really is more than
society can bear for him to keep one under the very roof he intends
for his bride. Have you decided how you’ll handle things once he
weds?”

The baroness took a delicate sip of her tea.
Her pointed tongue laved her top lip as she lowered her cup, like a
cat licking cream from its whiskers.

Jacquelyn sank back onto the settee. She
moved her mouth, but no sound would come out.

“No discrete love-nest in your future? Well,
then,” she said. “I see I shall have to take matters into my own
hands then.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Jacquelyn
sputtered.

“A word in the right ear, my dear.” She
arched a powdered brow. “If you intend to remain here after Gabriel
weds, I shall find it incumbent upon myself to apprise his future
bride of the true nature of your relationship to Baron Drake. Don’t
think for a moment your presence will be tolerated beyond the
wedding vows.”

Lady Curtmantle cocked her head. “My husband
keeps his mistress in Bath. I’ve no objection to him having one,
you see, but I’ve no great need to see the doxy every day, either.
No doubt the future baroness of Dragon Caern will hold a similar
view.” She took another sip from her cup. “Excellent tea,
this.”

“Why are you involving yourself—”

“—in your affairs?” the baroness finished for
her. “Because, as I told you, I care about Gabriel’s happiness. No
man can please two women if they reside under the same roof, not
even a veritable stallion like your Gabriel. Honestly, now. I find
mistresses seldom consider any but their own wishes, but think of
his position for once. For all that he’s a pirate, Gabriel Drake
does not possess a heart of stone. He’s a man of deep feeling.
After all, he drove himself to the sea over me once.” She preened,
patting her wig. “He’s dreadfully single-minded in matters of the
heart. Do you suppose he’ll be likely to find contentment with the
mother of his children with you down the hall?”

Jacquelyn felt as though she’d been punched
in the gut. Gabriel had said something very near to Lady
Curtmantle’s remark more than once.

The baroness was right, damn her eyes.

When she allowed herself to think of
Gabriel’s impending marriage, all Jacquelyn considered was how
she’d bear the fact that he’d take another woman to wife. She’d
never considered how difficult it might be for Gabriel.

And now with her belly threatening to grow,
Jacquelyn’s position was impossible.

“I have to leave,” she said woodenly.

Lady Curtmantle nodded sagely. “I knew you
were a reasonable sort. You may actually care for the man, after
all. Where will you go?”

Jacquelyn sat still as stone for a moment.
There was really no help for it. She had no other option. “My
mother lives in London.”

“London! How lovely for you,” Lady Curtmantle
said as if Jacquelyn were going off on holiday. “I’ve heard of your
mother, the infamous Isabella Wren. Still a celebrated woman of
pleasure, is she not? No doubt with her connections among the
demimonde, she’ll help you find a suitable position in no
time.”

The baroness’s lips twitched in a smirk.

“I will not become a courtesan,” Jacquelyn
said firmly, narrowing her eyes at her unwelcome guest.

Lady Curtmantle’s brows lifted in amusement.
“Oh, my dear. Such resolve is too little too late. Whether you will
it or no, you are already a member of the Cyprian corps.” The
baroness lifted her teacup in a mock toast. “Just a singularly
ill-paid one.”

Once night fell, Jacquelyn couldn’t bear to
wait for Gabriel to come to her. For one thing, she didn’t want him
to spy the trunk she’d packed and start asking questions. She’d
already told Timothy that she’d be leaving with the gig an hour
before dawn. The stable lad was to have her mare hitched to the
small, two-wheeled vehicle and come to haul her luggage down for
her before anyone else stirred. If anyone inquired, Timothy was to
say Jacquelyn was off to Bath to inspect a new shipment of silks
that had recently arrived. The girls would need new dresses for
their uncle’s wedding, after all.

Of course, Lady Curtmantle knew Jacquelyn’s
true destination. She’d cursed herself a dozen times for letting
her plans slip through her lips. But she doubted the baroness would
tell Gabriel where she was headed, not when Lady Curtmantle so
obviously approved her actions.

As caustic as Lady Curtmantle was, Jacquelyn
decided the woman had actually done her a favor. Her snide cuts
forced Jacquelyn to evaluate her position in the cold hard light of
logic instead of the haze of passion. After weeks of deliberate
indecision, Jacquelyn knew what she must do.

She’d kissed the girls goodnight as usual,
complaining of an eyelash in her eye when Daisy noticed the unshed
tears threatening to spill over her lids. She loved them fiercely,
but she had to leave them for their own good.

She just didn’t have the strength of will to
leave without seeing Gabriel once more.

As soon as the Caern settled into gentle
quiet, she lit a candle and slipped into the secret passageway. Had
she really thought she could somehow continue with their secret
trysts once a new Lady Drake was installed?

Evidently her body had been doing the
thinking. And still was. Already, her whole being thrummed in
anticipation of his strong arms about her, his mouth searching out
her secrets, his hard shaft pounding between her thighs. The moist
warmth of arousal pooled in her groin.

Oh, God! What will I do without him?
Jacquelyn nearly sobbed in despair. She stopped walking for a
moment and closed her eyes, willing herself to shove aside all
thought of the morrow. If she had only this one night, let her have
it.

All of it.

She turned a corner in the narrow space and
almost ran headlong into him. Gabriel gathered her into an embrace
and a kiss that nearly stole her soul. It certainly made her drop
the candle.

He stooped and pinched off the wick with a
rumbling chuckle. They were plunged into total darkness, but as
long as Gabriel held her, Jacquelyn decided she wouldn’t care if
she was cast into perdition itself.

“I can think of better ways to set the place
ablaze. Oh, Lyn, the day’s been so long,” he breathed into her ear
as his hands roamed her curves. “I’ve had the taste of you in my
mouth all day, but it’s never enough. Come, love. Let us take our
fill.”

She sagged against him and he led her back to
his chamber.

Let me not think
, she pleaded
silently.
For this last time, let me only feel.

She didn’t let him speak after he pushed the
opening closed behind them. She hurled herself toward him, pressing
feverish kisses to his neck and down his bare chest. The salty
sweetness of his skin made her soft palate ache. She nipped his
taut brown nipple and reveled in his low groan. Her hands found the
drop front of his breeches and plunged in to claim his enraged
cock.

He was so warm.

A single pearl of fluid formed at his tip and
she bent to take him into her mouth.

“Lyn,” he chanted her name softly as she
knelt to pull his breeches past his heavily muscled calves. “You
drive a man beyond reason. If you keep that up, I . . . I fear I
cannot be as gentle as I want to be with you.”

She straightened and looked him in the eye.
“Don’t be gentle.”

Gabriel had warned her the first time they
met that there was a beast in every man, but she hadn’t believed
it. She had no doubts now.

In rutting glory, there was no finer specimen
than the beast who now bent her over and slammed himself into her.
He rode her savagely. He bruised her inner thighs with his thrusts,
drew blood when he claimed her flesh with his lovebites, and marked
her body and soul with his total possession.

Somewhere amid the madness she thought she
heard a voice that sounded like hers. It kept saying the same thing
over and over.

“Harder. For God’s sake, harder.”

* * *

Much later, Jacquelyn lay beneath him,
fighting to draw a breath. His body still trembled with spent
passion, but he raised himself on his elbows to look down at
her.

“Lyn, I’m sorry for using so—“

She pressed her fingertips to his lips. “I
wanted you to, just like that.

Every joint ached and she suspected she’d be
sore for a week, but she needed him to take her fiercely, to ravish
her. She couldn’t have born tenderness.

But now she pulled his head down to her
breasts. He nuzzled and tugged at her nipples for a moment before
he laid his rough cheek in the hollow between them. His warm breath
slid over her charged skin, sending a final burst of longing racing
through her veins.

In the years to come, this was how she’d
remember him, lying between her breasts, his body heavy on hers,
their raging need finally stilled. Only a quiet yearning left to
shudder in the wake of their fire.

* * *

“Gabriel?”

“Hmm?” His body jerked and she realized he’d
drifted into light sleep.

“Have you decided which one?”

“Which one what?” his voice was rough and
slurred.

“Which woman you’ll wed?”

“Oh.” He drew a heavy sigh and rolled off
her. “I’m thinking Lady Harlowe.”

“You’re joking.” The lady came with a hefty
dowry, but to call her plain would have been high praise.

“No, I’m serious.” He propped himself on one
elbow and looked down at her. “She is the daughter of a viscount,
after all.”

“I didn’t think that sort of thing mattered
to you.”

“It doesn’t.” He traced circles around her
areola. When her nipple rose into a stiff peak, he lowered his
mouth and gave it a nip. “I thought Lady Harlowe would be the
easiest choice for you.”

“For me?” Jacquelyn pressed her palm against
her breast to still the ache he’d started.