When Marrying a Scoundrel (18 page)

Oh. Dear. God.

She never did get around to reading the leaves as he had teased. Once he’d made the suggestion with the cream, she’d looked at him and he at her and that was the end of the meal.

“I wanted to take my time at seducing you,” he informed her, voice rough as he stood. “But I don’t want to wait any longer.”

Sadie rose as well. “You can take your time later. We have all night.”

Jack’s eyes seemed to light from within as he stared at her. “Turn around.”

She did as he demanded and was rewarded with the feel of his long fingers loosening the buttons down the back of her gown. There were dozens of them, but he made short work of them. A gown made for seduction indeed. When the poufy little sleeves slouched down her arms, Jack helped them along, pushing the loose bodice down to her hips, and from there it drifted to the floor in a delicate pile.

Sadie stepped out of the gown. Jack surprised her by picking it up and draping it over a chair. That thoughtfulness did something peculiar to her chest—it pinched a little bit. She didn’t have time to wonder at it, however, because now his fingers were working at her stays and within moments, he had her out of her corset and her shift and standing before him—her back still to him—in nothing but her stockings and shoes.

“Beautiful,” he whispered against her ear. There was just enough of home in his voice to bring a slight dampness to her eyes. He sounded like the boy she fell in love with—deeper and older, of course, but enough that she loved him for it.

There was a slight tugging at her crown as he pulled the pins. Sure enough it only took one to tumble the entire coiffure. Her hair fell around her shoulders and down her back, cool against her skin. Jack dragged his fingers through it, combing it before bringing his hands around to cup her breasts. He lifted them, thumb and finger easily finding her nipples and squeezing gently. Sadie gasped,
and her devil of a husband chuckled against her ear just before flicking his tongue along the lobe.

Closing her eyes, Sadie leaned back against the warm, solid wall of his chest. The light wool of his coat was slightly rough against her skin but she didn’t care. She was totally focused on his mouth and his hands. His left hand stayed on her breast, the tip of which was as hard as granite and aching for his mouth. His right hand slid down her torso, over her stomach, and down to the apex of her thighs. One of his feet nudged hers, easing her legs open and widening her stance so that his questing fingers could continue their erotic journey.

Lightly—damnably so—he caressed the curve of her mound, traced a path along the damp cleft and then back, barely parting the swollen flesh. She pulsed there, tight with need but loving this sweet torture.

“Sweet Sadie,” Jack murmured, his lips brushing her shoulder. “So eager.”

She arched her hips in response, pushing herself against his hand. Another chuckle. His teeth grazed her shoulder and then his finger slipped between the lips of her cunny to stroke the knot of flesh that begged for his touch. She moaned and the fingers on her nipple pinched lightly, adding to the pleasure.

He played her ruthlessly for what seemed like forever, stroking and teasing, but never quite giving the release she craved. And then, when she thought she might have to kill him, his fingers left her altogether to grip her hips, and the lips that had kissed both her shoulders began a delicious humid descent down her spine. She felt his
thighs brush her calves as he came to kneel behind her, tongue swirling little hot circles at the top of the cleft of her buttocks.

“Turn around.”

Knees trembling, she yet again did as he commanded, knowing his intention and welcoming it eagerly. She looked down the length of her own body, flushed in the lamplight, to meet his bright gaze. He stared at her as his fingers slowly crept up her thigh, back to where she wanted them. Only this time, he didn’t toy with her sweet spot, instead, he eased one finger inside her, parting her heated flesh, filling her. She sighed in delight, knowing he had more in store for her.

Reaching behind her shoulders, she gripped the mantel with both hands, arching her spine so that she offered herself up to his mouth brazenly. Jack smiled—the self-satisfied smile of a man reunited with a woman who burned for his touch and didn’t care if he knew it.

“Do you know of how many nights I dreamed of eating you?” His voice stroked her just as effectively as any finger, tightening the tension within her. As he spoke, he moved his finger inside her. Her thighs clenched. “How many nights I tossed off to thoughts of you riding my tongue until you came?”

“How many?” her voice was a gasp as she writhed on his hand, aching for his mouth.

“Every fucking one,” he growled and then pushed himself between her legs, his mouth and tongue easily finding the slick knot of nerves and licking mercilessly.

Sadie cried out—how could she not when he did this
so well? One hand let go of the mantel to clutch his head, pushing him deeper. His fingers tightened on her hips as he devoured her. She slung one leg over his shoulder, undulating against his tongue faster and harder until she came in a great rush of heat and joy. She sagged, knees turning to jelly. There was a nip of sharp teeth against the inside of her thigh and then Jack stood, lifting her into his arms.

He carried her to the bed, setting her on soft, clean sheets. Her shoes had come off during the journey but she hardly cared.

Jack stood beside the mattress, so tall and golden. Sadie watched as he shrugged out of his coat and tossed it aside, showing less regard for his own clothing than he’d had for hers. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth before removing his waistcoat. She wondered if he’d liked how she tasted and the thought aroused her all over again. In one swift movement, she came up onto her knees on the mattress and pulled Jack’s shirt free of his trousers.

“Let me help you,” she said with a smile. And he did, until finally he stood before her, naked and too beautiful for his own good. She ran her hands over the taut flesh of his abdomen, up to his broad chest.

“I don’t remember you being this hairy,” she remarked, sliding her thumbs over his tight nipples.

“Did I have
any
chest hair when we first did this?” he asked with a grin as he joined her on the bed, drawing her against that wonderfully muscular—and hairy—chest.

“I don’t think so. I like it.”

“Good. I grew it just for you.”

“And this?” She slid her hand down, over his flat belly to curve around his absolutely perfect cock. “Did you grow this for me as well?”

Jack regarded her from beneath heavy lids. “I think you grew that all on your own.”

Grinning, Sadie slid down the length of him, but instead of touching him, she slipped off the bed and crossed the floor to the table.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

She turned with the pot of cream in her hands and a saucy grin on her lips. “I want dessert.”

Jack lay back against the pillows and crossed his arms behind his head. His erection stood proudly in the lamplight. “Come and get it.”

Back on the bed, Sadie set the pot of cream near his hip and braced herself on her elbow as she scooped out two fingers full of fluffy deliciousness. Lightly, she daubed the cream on the head of Jack’s erection and then positioned herself over it. She raised her gaze to his, giving him a bold stare before lowering her head.

She took him deep into her mouth, running her tongue over the smooth skin, delighting in the salty taste of him mixing with the sweet cream. She’d missed this, the feel and taste of him, knowing how much pleasure he took from it. Already she could hear his groans, the light gasps every time she grazed a particular spot with her teeth. She glanced up. He was watching her, and she pushed back her hair, holding it so he could fully enjoy the view as well as the sensations. His hips lifted and she
slid her hand down to grip the base of his shaft, stroking him with firm fingers as well as her mouth.

“Sweet God,” he groaned. “I’m going to come if you don’t stop.”

Sadie didn’t want to stop, but she didn’t have the patience to wait even a few moments for him to get hard again, so she released him from her mouth and slid up the length of his body to straddle him. The damp tip of him brushed against her eager sex and that lovely chest hair tickled her nipples into exquisite tightness.

She brushed a lock of hair back from his forehead, fighting a rush of tenderness as she did so. “It’s been a long time since I looked at you this way.”

“You mean from this position, or as though I’m yours to do with what you will?”

Sadie smiled. “Both.”

He smiled back. “So what are you going to do?”

Still holding his gaze, she reached down between them and guided his cock to the right spot. Then, she tilted her hips and pushed down, taking him inside. There was a second when both of them caught their breath. Every muscle in Sadie’s body trembled as she slid down upon him, until the back of her thighs met his hips and they were as tightly joined as any man and woman could be.

Her inner muscles actually twitched, demanding one of them start moving, but Jack’s hands had found their way to her hips and were holding her tightly, preventing her from lifting her own. She churned them instead.

The tendons in Jack’s neck tightened as he arched his head back against the pillows. She was going to kill
him. He was doing all he could to hang on to his control and not embarrass himself like some stupid virgin, and Sadie was doing her very damn best to unman him with that slick, hot vise between her legs.

Soft fingers pressed against his chest as her buttocks brushed his thighs. Her hips moved in a languid circle, slowly pushing him toward the edge of a precipice he wanted to throw himself over and avoid at the same time.

And then her motions quickened and her breathing changed. He could feel her body clutching at his and he knew that she was getting ready to come again. If he could just hold on long enough for her to spend first…

Sadie shuddered on top of him, her body dropping forward as the sweetest cry tore from her lips. That was all it took to destroy what was left of his resolve. Gripping her tightly, Jack arched up, digging his heels into the mattress so that he could drive himself deep within her. He came hard, with a ragged groan that seemed to go on forever inside his own head.

A few moments—or it might have been hours for all he knew—later, her warmth released him and she lay down at his side, curled against him like a cat. He wrapped one arm around her, pulling her close to his chest. God, she felt good—like security and hope and sex rolled into a sweet womanly package.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I wanted it to last longer.”

She lifted her head to look at him, her dark hair a seductive tangle about her face. She looked at him as though he was daft—and she adored him for it. “All
you’ve ever had to do is look at me and I’m screamin’ like a
bean sidhe
. I’m not about to apologize for it, so you’d best not either.”

Jack chuckled, lacing his fingers through the ones resting on his chest. She squeezed. “I’ve missed you, Sadiemoon.”

Her gaze met his once more, and the things he saw there…they gave him such hope, he scarcely dare entertain it. And they scared him too, because there were secrets in the depths of Sadie’s eyes, and the Sadie he knew never liked keeping secrets, not from him.

“I missed you too,” she replied, and regardless of whatever he saw in her eyes, he heard the truth in her words. “More than you’ll ever know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Her voice was sharp in his ears. “For wanting to leave? Or for regretting it now that you’re back?”

“Everything,” he replied honestly, but he couldn’t help reminding her, “I would have stayed if you asked.”

“I know. You also would have resented me for it.”

“That wouldn’t have been any worse than how I felt when your letters stopped coming.”

She frowned at him. “I didn’t stop writing until long after you did. I didn’t know where you were.”

Jack returned the scowl. “Sadie, I wrote to you right up until just before my return. The letters were waiting for me unopened at our home.”

The expression on her face was incredulous. “I received none.”

“Neither did I.”

He could tell that she found that hard to believe, but then something changed in her eyes. It was as though he could see the exact moment her mind made the right connection. When she looked at him again, it was with sorrow and regret, and just a hint of shame. “I think we both have been sorry long enough, especially for schemes not of our making.”

“Meaning?”

Sadie sighed. “I think your grandfather intercepted our letters.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I saw him after you left. He came to the flat.”

He leaned back, putting some distance between them as her words sunk it, stinging ever so slightly. “You saw him and you’re only mentioning it now?”

She nodded, cheeks flushing. “I didn’t think it mattered before, but now I believe it does.”

Anyone else and Jack would have thought it farfetched, but he believed it of his grandfather. It was the only way letters could have avoided both of them.

And there was nothing to be done about it now. It seemed that the realization weighed heavily on them both—and the awareness of just how much pain and anger they’d felt because of this interference. How much time had been wasted. Lost.

It was almost enough to make a man weep. “I’m hungry,” Jack said, voice raw. “How about you?”

She glanced toward the table. “I think there’s plenty of food left. Shall I get us a plate?”

He held her tight when she would have drawn away, and she turned back to him with a questioning gaze.

“What about that cream?” he asked with a slow smile. “Is there any left?”

Sadie’s fae eyes brightened as one long leg drifted over his. “That’s
exactly
the look I was talking about.”

Jack grinned as her lips lowered to his. “Good thing these walls are thick.”

J
ack woke to find himself alone in bed. “Sadie?”

“I’m here.”

He sat up against the soft pillows, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the lamplight. There were no windows in the little cottage—Saint’s Row was all about discretion—and he had no idea if it was night or day.

Sadie was sitting at the table where they’d had their meal. She wore his shirt, which looked a damn sight more fetching on her than it ever had on him, and had a teacup in her hands. His teacup, judging from the look on her face.

Christ on a pony. They’d just had what he considered to be the singularly most glorious night ever, and while he could barely think, she was up and peering in the bottom of his cup for visions of the future?

Well, he knew better than to mock her for it. “Are you sure you want to look in there?” He inquired lightly. “Maybe I die tomorrow.”

“Not you,” she replied, frowning. When she looked
up from the cup she asked, “When was the last time you spoke to your grandfather?”

His jaw tightened. “When he told me I was as dead to him as my father and brother. Why?”

She glanced at the cup again. “I don’t think he’s well. I think it’s his heart.”

Jack snorted. “He doesn’t have one.” She didn’t look amused, and he couldn’t help but ask, “What do you see?”

Sadie turned and set the cup on the table. The movement caused the hem of his shirt to ride high up her long, round thighs. He wished he could claim his sudden erection was piss proud, but it was all because of a glimpse of leg.

“I see him dying,” she answered bluntly. “In your arms.”

He sat forward, looping his arms around his knees, over the sheet. “Never going to happen.”

“Because I can’t see the future in leaves.” The bitter edge to her words raised his eyebrows. He really had struck a nerve with his skepticism. He made a mental note to keep his mouth shut in the future.

“Because I have no intention of seeing him before or after he drops dead.”

“You have to eventually,” she insisted. “You have an inheritance.”

“Shag my inheritance.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“You know I do,” he insisted with good-natured force. “I’m Jack Friday now. Let the old man declare Jack Far
rington legally dead and the title can pass on to my cousin Patrick.”

A strange smile tilted her lips. “You’d really do that?”

He shrugged. “I’d be surprised if the old man hadn’t done it already.”

She seemed to ponder that—why, he had no idea—and found it to her liking. Slowly, she rose from the chair and came toward the bed. His shirt slid off her shoulders to drop gracefully to the carpet, leaving her gloriously naked.

She had a beautiful body—high breasts, small waist, flared hips. Her limbs were long and supple, strong too. And of course, she had a little bit of heaven between her legs. But while he found the wrapping beautiful, there was simply something magical about her that drew him to her. He had simply known the first time he laid eyes on her that she would always be part of his life, and when he married her—regardless of the legality of the ceremony—it was forever. He could admit that now. The question was, could she?

He didn’t get a chance to ask her, and when she climbed into bed with him, enjoying the time they had together became more important than wondering how much more time they might have.

Just before dawn they managed to sneak out of their love nest and return to their respective domiciles without being seen. Before letting her out of the carriage, Jack gave her a kiss so sweet it brought tears to her eyes.

“When can I see you again?” he asked against her
lips, his thumb stroking her cheek as he cradled her head in his hands.

Was this really happening? It seemed too good to be true. Why hadn’t they fought? They’d managed to discuss some parts of their time apart with ease, but there were other things they avoided. Jack never asked if she’d had lovers and she never asked him. It seemed both of them realized there would be things neither of them wanted to admit, or hear, and so silently agreed not to share them. She didn’t care about things he’d done, she was only concerned with going forward and putting the past behind them. Maybe he was as well. Lord, she hoped so.

“Tonight,” she replied. “I have to see Vienne and check in on the workmen at the shop, but tonight I’m free.”

“I want to take you out. Let all of London know I’m courting you.”

Sadie grinned. “It’s a little late for courting, isn’t it? You didn’t even court me when we first met.”

He brushed a light kiss across her forehead. “It would seem odd for us to suddenly be together, especially after the scandalous auction incident.”

Sadie opened her mouth to respond, but he cut her off.

“Jack Friday would like very much to court Sadie Moon.”

“All right,” she conceded, flush with pleasure. “But don’t think I’m going to tumble into your bed just because you buy me flowers.”

Jack’s eyes crinkled at the corners. How ridiculous was it that she wanted to kiss those fine creases? “You’ll
tumble into my bed because that’s where you belong.”

“Yes,
sir
,” she replied breathlessly just before his lips came down on hers once more.

Moments later, when he’d broken the kiss, Jack gazed ruefully into her eyes. “You’d better go. The sun’s coming up and I don’t want to give your neighbors anything to gossip about.”

Sadie could have done with another kiss, but she reluctantly admitted that he was right—again—and exited the carriage, with the suggestion that he meet her that evening for dinner at Saint’s Row, and then in the club’s garden later. He agreed with a heat to his gaze that kept Sadie warm long after she snuck into her house.

“Did you have a pleasant evening?” asked a familiar voice as she reached the top of the stairs, creeping toward her room.

Shoulders sagging, Sadie turned to face Indara, who was leaning out of her bedroom doorway. “As a matter of fact, I did.”

Her housemate grinned, white teeth flashing. “Excellent. Would you like some help with your gown?”

Sadie rolled her eyes. She knew her friend would interrogate her mercilessly, but there was no way she could get out of this dress by herself and she didn’t want to wake Petra and risk alerting the other servants to her late homecoming.

Indara didn’t wait for her to acquiesce; she simply scampered across the hall in her nightgown and robe—both of which were bright crimson silk—and followed Sadie into her room.

Suddenly exhausted, Sadie tossed her belongs onto the bench in front of her vanity and kicked off her slippers. Then she stood in the middle of the carpet and allowed Indara to unfasten her gown.

“So,” her friend began. “Where did you go?”

“Saint’s Row. He had a key to one of the private cottages.”

Her bodice tightened as Indara pulled it in excitement. “One of Vienne’s love grottos? Whatever was it like?”

Chuckling at the term, Sadie didn’t immediately reply. “Lovely, of course. Comfortable. Dark. Very conducive to seduction. I felt…” Well, now she just felt silly. “I felt like Jack and I were the only people in the world.”

“That is how you should feel.” Her friend’s voice drifted over her shoulder and made Sadie pause. There was something wistful in Indara’s soft tones. Regret? It occurred to Sadie that in all the years she’d known Indara, she’d never entertained the attentions of a man. Many had tried, but Indara rebuffed them all. She certainly had an appreciation for the male form, so why keep herself isolated and alone?

“You’ll find someone someday,” Sadie said, hoping she wasn’t overstepping the bounds of their friendship.

Indara’s nimble fingers paused halfway down Sadie’s back. “I’ve already found him. He simply hasn’t found me.”

“Who—?”

Indara cut her off, resuming in her loosening of buttons. “It does not matter.”

Sadie knew that voice. Her friend didn’t use it often,
but it signified the end of that particular conversation. Still, Sadie couldn’t help but remind her, “I’d tell you.”

The exotic woman laughed. “Not if you didn’t want to. You have your secrets, my friend. Let me have mine.”

Sadie couldn’t argue with that. The other night she had told Indara much about her history with Jack—including that she’d stayed with his grandfather for a short time. But she’d not said a word about the baby. That was her private pain and she wasn’t going to share that with anyone. Instead, she’d told her friend that the old earl had lent his assistance to her during an illness. In the light of day she regretted sharing that much.

“Was it as good as you remembered?” Indara asked when the last button slid free.

Sadie turned to tilt a smile at her. “So much for secrets.”

Indara only smiled, not the least bit contrite. “My people wrote the
Kama Sutra
. Physical pleasure is not the stuff of secrets. It is to be celebrated.”

There were any number of Englishmen and women who would undoubtedly disagree, but who was Sadie to argue cultural differences. “Better,” she replied. “It was better.”

Her friend looked pleased. “That is a good sign, I think.”

Sadie stepped out of her gown and turned so Indara could help with her corset. “I hope so.”

“Did you tell him about his grandpapa?”

She knew revealing all to Indara would come back to bite her on the arse. “I couldn’t.”

“Sadie.”

“He doesn’t think the old man cares—and neither do I considering the last letter I received.” She moved away, slipping out of the corset and setting it on the vanity bench as well. She braced one foot on the bench and attended to her stockings.

Indara, however, was not about to let her dismiss the topic. “But what if he does care? What if the earl comes to London and tells Jack that you were the one who summoned him?”

“I’ll burn that bridge when I get to it.”

Indara shook her head, dark tresses shimmering in the fledgling sunlight. “You know, I believe you truly hope Mr. Friday—or whatever his name is—never reconciles with his family, even if he wishes it.”

“Of course I don’t want that!” But she didn’t sound quite sincere, not even to her own ears.

Indara looked at her, and it wasn’t judgment Sadie saw in her friend’s bright eyes; it was sympathy, maybe even pity. “You want him back, but only if he stays at his current social level. Heaven help him if he decides to do his duty and accept his inheritance. You won’t want him then, will you?”

“He won’t want me,” Sadie retorted. “I’m not good enough for an earl.”

“You were good enough for him once. You are good enough for him now. Your husband is not the snob, Sadie. You are.”

“You’re mad!”

“Perhaps, but I know you. And I know your dislike of
the aristocracy comes from fear, not repulsion. What did this grandfather earl say to you? That you were not good enough for his boy? That you would ruin his life? And then your husband runs off and you think the grandpapa was correct. You were not good enough to hold him. You ruined his life, and your own in the process. That is what you believe, is it not?”

She balled up her stockings and tossed them on the floor. “Definitely not!” But even as she spoke the words she had to wonder at their validity. She remembered how intimidated she’d been by Jack’s family as a girl. How intimidated she sometimes was by the grand ladies who got her to read their leaves even now. She didn’t have to be reminded of how she sometimes despised them for it.

Indara watched her, compassion etched in her striking features. Sadie could have slapped her for it. “Don’t look at me like that, Dara. I know what I’m doing.”

“Yes,” her friend agreed. “That’s what I am afraid of. I believe you truly understand just what kind of tragedy you are steering yourself toward.”

Sadie snorted, but her rudeness was no deterrent to Indara’s determination. “You’ve been given a second chance at true love. Few of us are rarely given even a first chance. If you ruin this, you will be a bigger fool than I could ever imagine. This time when he leaves you, it really will be your fault.”

Sadie could only gape as her friend swept from the room with all the dismissive regality of a queen, while she stood there in her shift, rumpled, tender and sticky, looking every inch an urchin. Indara never allowed anyone
to make her feel as though she was beneath them or somehow less. Indara looked everyone in the eye and kept her chin lifted at all times—as though she was the equal of any well-born man or woman. And though Sadie often thought her naïve, she admired her for that confidence.

Of course, Indara had never had to face the Earl of Garret. The man had wilted Sadie’s confidence more than once. The entire time she’d stayed at his house he was very kind to her, but he never missed an opportunity to point out how ill suited she and Jack were. Now that she suspected—nay, was
convinced
—that he had intercepted letters between her and Jack, she wished to avoid him even more. Anyone else and she’d believe it too fantastic to be truth, but she wouldn’t put any manner of underhandedness past the earl. If only she hadn’t contacted him about Jack.

With that thought lingering longer than it should, Sadie unpinned her hair and crawled into bed. She was exhausted and wanted to get some extra sleep since Jack had kept her awake most of the night. She certainly wasn’t about to complain, but if she was going to spend the coming evening with him as well, she needed to be rested for it. It wouldn’t do to have society commenting on how tired she looked. No doubt those aristocratic harpies would have
something
to say if she showed her face with shadows under eyes.

The fact that she cared what they might say annoyed her, so she resolved not to give the matter another thought. Instead, she turned her mind to Jack and some of the
particularly pleasant moments of their night together.

Yes, she reiterated with a satisfied smile as she burrowed into her pillow, it had been even better than she remembered. God help her if it continued to improve. She wouldn’t survive it.

And yet, as she drifted off to sleep, sensual images drifting through her mind, she couldn’t help but realize that there was something wrong with the whole situation, as though it was a play or a story she could partake in yet still not be a part of. It was as though she couldn’t quite bring herself to view it as reality—her reality.