Chapter Thirty-Three

H arriet stared down at the man on his knees in front of her, as her poor heart hammered against her ribs so hard she thought it might come jumping out. Was this not what she wanted? This handsome, dashing man who’d kissed her so lightly and gently, his lips like gossamer on hers. And yet… would he not assure her of all of this if he wanted to get her in his power? Men were liars. Ben had proved that to her with his promises of kindness and love. Might not Jack be the same?

She pressed her lips together as she gazed into his golden eyes, groping for an answer that wouldn’t send him running. “I need proof of your good intentions,” was what came out, surprising even herself.

His eyes widened. “Tell me how I can prove it to you, and I’ll do it, willingly.”

She swallowed, and rose to her feet. “I need you to show me how you will love me.” She pulled him up. “Show me you’re not like… him.”

He was towering over her again, and for a moment she doubted the wisdom of her decision. He was so big and strong. He could take what he wanted in the blink of an eye and she’d be powerless to prevent him. Just as she’d always been powerless with Ben. “Bertha has gone to the farm and will be there talking to Mrs. Voas and drinking tea until this afternoon. My children have gone to Roskilly for the day. I am quite alone, here in the house.”

His pulse beat fast in his throat, like a captured bird fluttering. Had she made herself clear enough? Did she even mean what she was saying? Her own daring left her trembling with something more than nerves—excitement, anticipation, and could that possibly be desire?

He must know what she meant. Glancing down, she couldn’t avoid seeing the bulge in his breeches. He’d tried to hide it when they’d been seated, but she’d noticed. What woman wouldn’t? The sight of it sent a fresh frisson of electricity purring through her. A large part of her wanted this, yet another part feared it.

Jack’s tongue darted out to lick his lips, and he tightened his hold on her hands. “Might I, then, finish the kiss that was interrupted on board my ship?”

Her breath caught in her throat. He was asking permission again. Surely that showed he was telling her the truth? “You may.” She could barely get the words out, so dry was her throat.

He lifted a hand to cup her cheek, his touch featherlight. “Harriet, you must know I would never hurt you.” And he bent his head towards hers until their lips touched.

This time her memories of Ben didn’t appear to frighten her off. She let herself press her lips to his, instinct parting them. His other hand clasped her waist, gently pulling her towards him. She allowed herself to be so drawn, until her body rested up against his hips, the bulge of his arousal more than evident.

She might have drawn back at the feel of it, but she stopped herself. She wanted this kiss, and maybe she even wanted what lay hidden in his breeches. What every man had, but in her experience did not use kindly. A shocking thought. Ben had told her only wanton women desired a man’s body, and that it was natural for her to take no pleasure in something he seemingly so enjoyed himself, with his groaning and grunting over her.

The tip of Jack’s tongue slipped between her lips and before she realized what she was doing, her mouth had opened wider under his and she was responding. The hand on her cheek snaked round to the back of her head, his fingers in her hair. Perhaps she should do that herself. She put a hand up to his head, his hair soft under her touch and a tiny groan issued from his lips.

Before she’d had her fill, he pulled away from her, panting slightly, but keeping a light hand on her waist. “Might I be so bold as to ask if you enjoyed that?”

She nodded, as breathless as he was. “I did.” Although he’d held her intimately close, there’d been nothing of the predator about him, apart from that solid arousal pressed against her stomach. Nothing invasive, not even that questing tongue. Not for one moment had she felt violated.

She pulled away. “You need to come upstairs with me.”

He held back. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

She met his gaze. “There’s only one way for me to discover if I can marry you, and that is this way. I won’t marry you if I can’t do it. You wouldn’t want a wife who couldn’t.”

His eyes lit up. “But you will if I prove myself? If you can bring yourself to let me…”

She nodded. “Come.”

He let her lead him into the kitchen, through to the quiet, empty parlor and up the stairs, that creaked at every footstep they took. At the top, she opened the first door and led him into her bedroom. Sunlight slanted in across the wooden floor to strike the bed nearest the window, and dust motes danced in the air like fairy spirits. How different it looked to the room she’d left this morning, now she was entering it with Jack.

She turned towards him, determination in her heart. If she failed to do this with him today, the man she loved, she’d know she’d never be able to remarry. Ever. “Come, sit with me on the bed.”

He sat down beside her, his bulk seeming to fill the room, his masculinity cancelling out the feminine touches she and Lydia had imposed. This had always been a man’s room. They were only interlopers. “Show me, Jack, how you mean to be if I agree to marry you.”

*

What should he do? That this was a kind of test he might fail bore down on Jack. He could see she wanted him. He wanted her himself, but the fear that he might do something wrong assailed him. How to make her feel at ease? Probably the boorish Ben, whose death he secretly rejoiced over, had never taken the trouble to ready her for anything. He’d been a soldier and had most likely gone in all guns blazing, ready only to satisfy his own lusts. A woman was a fine instrument that required constant tuning, and if only he could tune Harriet, she’d be his.

He drew her towards him. “Will you kiss me?” Make it sound as though everything was her decision, then she’d not feel the almost unavoidable dominance of a man over a woman. He must let her decide the pace.

Surprise showed in her eyes, but she nodded. Without a word, she leaned in for the kiss, one hand going to the back of his head as their mouths met. And this time her mouth was already open. He waited for her tentative tongue to come searching before letting his own meet it, and felt the sudden jerk as he did so. But she didn’t pull away. Instead, she settled more closely into his arms and her mouth opened wider, her tongue fencing with his.

This time the kiss lasted a lot longer, and when they finally broke apart, both of them were panting. “How is it,” she whispered, “that kissing you affects my entire body?”

Jack chuckled. “Because I’m good at kissing. That’s how you should feel when a man… when I kiss you. I feel it too. A thrill that tingles every nerve.”

“I’ve never been kissed like this before.”

He nodded. “That’s because you’ve never kissed me before.”

For answer, she returned for another kiss, and this time, Jack put his hand on her leg, high up on her thigh. The heat of her body radiated through the thin muslin. For a moment, she stiffened in his arms, before relaxing back into the depths of the kiss. He moved his hand further up her thigh and she made no attempt to stop him.

This time when the kiss finally broke, he left his hand where it was, nearly at the apex of her legs. She was gasping, and so was he, the need for her body powering through him. He’d have to hold himself strictly in check, so as not to frighten her off.

“There’s no need for us to remove all of our clothes for this,” he said. “But if we do not, then I shall feel as though this was a common coupling without emotion. I would like to hold your body, naked in my arms. If you will allow it.” Had he gone too far?

She regarded him out of her lovely eyes, a shadow of fear lurking there, but she must have been naked with a man before. She had two children, after all. Then she seemed to come to the same decision as him. She nodded. “I will remove my clothes.”

He held up a hand. “No. Allow me to remove them. It’s all part of the game and I can assure you, you will like it.”

She hesitated, doubt flitting across her face. Had she allowed her husband to do this, or had the man shown no finesse at all and taken her fully clothed, as Jack refused to do. “Very well.” Suddenly, she dimpled, a carefree girl for once. “I feel that you are wearing too many clothes for what you have in mind, and perhaps I should help you to remove them even as you remove mine.”

Jack’s cock leapt to greater attention than ever at her words. His throat constricted and he had trouble swallowing. The very thought of her hands on his clothes, brushing against his body, her breath warm on his skin sent a blaze raging through him. He let out a little groan and shrugged off his coat, letting it fall forgotten to the floorboards. “Turn around.”

She turned her back to him, presenting him with the ties at the back of her bodice. His hands were shaking so much, he could barely undo them. She must be able to feel it. Heaving in a deep breath to steady himself, he slipped her gown from her shoulders and it pooled about her waist, leaving her in underslip and stays. He let his fingers trail down her shoulders to her wrists, the skin silky and soft.

Her turn to utter a little moan of pleasure. Yes. He could do this. She wanted him.

Before she thought to turn around, his fingers went to the laces on her stays—always an article of women’s clothing Jack had stumbled over. And this time was no different. As he fumbled with them, she sat bolt upright before him, her shoulders rising and falling in quick breaths. The back of her neck, possessed now of a distinct line where she’d caught the sun on board The Fly, tempted him. He bent and pressed his lips to the soft skin of her nape and felt her catch her breath. He trailed gentle kisses down her back to the top of her stays, then back up again and she uttered another little moan.

The laces came undone at last, and he threw the offending garment to one side. Now, all that stood between them was her thin muslin shift, so light as to be almost transparent. He applied his lips to her neck again and was rewarded as she leaned back into him, arching her back. With his lips on the side of her neck, he had a view down the front of her slip, to where her nipples had hardened against the soft fabric. He slid a hand across her ribs toward her right breast, slowly, afraid she’d stop him. She didn’t. He cupped her breast, his thumb gently rubbing the erect nipple and felt her stiffen for a moment before she relaxed again, her head back on his shoulder.

Now he really needed her, but he had, as she’d so rightly pointed out, far too many clothes on. No gentleman should make love to a lady with his boots on. With reluctance, he pulled himself away from her and hastily kicked off his boots. His waistcoat and shirt followed, and then his breeches.

She still had her back to him. Putting his arms around her once more, he caressed her slowly, far more slowly than his body needed. After this, he wouldn’t last long, so she had to have her release before he had his, that was for certain, and there was one sure way of that. He slid his hand down her belly to let it nestle between her legs.

She let out a gasp as his fingers found her center. “Jack!”

He circled, rubbed, gently teasing her to a release he guessed might not be long in coming. Taking his time and fighting to control his own body, he slid her slip from her shoulders with his other hand, his mouth on her bare skin. Outside the window, in a different world, the call of gulls filled the air above the distant roar of the surf on the hidden beach. She arched her back against his chest, her head back, her breath coming in sharp pants. Then, beneath his fingers, her body throbbed, pulses shooting through her and into his fingers, and he knew he’d done it. She let out a cry that might have been a mixture of surprise and pleasure and pressed his hand between her legs. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”

“God has nothing to do with it,” he whispered in her ear. “This was all Jack Trengrouse.”

If she’d heard him use his new name, she gave no sign of it, as her body arched more fiercely against his in her pleasure until finally she relaxed against him.

But now he was once more unsure of his reception, and with his cock digging into her back she must know of his need. A woman with two children certainly knew what went on between a man and his wife, and what a man needed. And yet, he couldn’t ask her. It needed to come from her. He couldn’t be like her husband, no matter how much he needed it.

She turned around and his breath caught in his throat at the perfection of her body. The smooth alabaster skin, the perfect breasts, the look of wonder on her face. “Can it be like that every time?” she asked.

He nodded. “Every time.”

She dropped her gaze to his arousal. “Thank you, Jack. And now I’d like to try this as well.”

*

Flushed with the pleasure still coursing through her body, and with a newfound confidence, Harriet lay back on her pillows, staring up at the naked man before her. Above the waist his skin was tanned, as though he’d spent much of the summer on his ship half naked, and dark hairs curled across his chest. Her eyes descended further to his unmistakable erection. Of course, she’d seen Ben when he’d been aroused, but only ever briefly as there’d been none of what had gone on here. Neither of them had ever been fully naked together as she and Jack were now.

She opened her legs to him and he leaned over her, taking his weight on his arms. “You can tell me to stop any time you like. You understand that?”

She nodded. “I know.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. Stop talking.”

She felt the width and length of him as he slid inside her and for just a moment was back with Ben forcing himself on her. Then Ben was banished, the door firmly closed against him, and instead, she stared up into Jack’s eyes.

She gripped his shoulders and lifted her legs to wrap around his back as pleasure surged through her a second time. “Don’t stop.”

He needed no persuading to comply. She dug her fingers into his flesh, hanging on as tightly as she could as he pounded into her. “Definitely don’t stop.” And as the pleasure reached its mountainous pinnacle, and shudders cascaded through their bodies, he slumped against her, spent.

Their heavy breathing filled the quiet room.

Eventually, Jack levered himself up onto his elbows and then flopped over beside her. “Do I pass your test? And will you marry me?”

Harriet couldn’t help but laugh. Never had she felt so happy, so fulfilled. “You have, and I will,” she whispered. “But if we’re to marry as respectable gentlefolk, then we need to get dressed before someone comes home unexpectedly and catches us naked in bed together.”

Jack burst out laughing. “You think they’d care, my lady? For you are to be none other than Lady Trengrouse, although that’s a story for later. I’d far rather concentrate on you and me right now.” He rolled onto his side, his head supported on his elbow. “And if we could, I’d rather stay naked in bed with you all day.”

Harriet burst out laughing again. “And I would rather not be found like this by either my children or by Bertha. It would give poor Bertha a heart attack. I swear she never looks at her own body when she’s washing it and has never seen a man naked in her life. Other than Theo as a baby.”

He grinned. “I’ll win Bertha over, just you wait and see. She’ll be putty in my hands and you’ll be green with envy at the flattery I pour on her.”

Harriet stretched, luxuriating at the feel of the cool air on her sweaty skin. “And as for you, you’d best explain to me why you’re calling yourself Jack Trengrouse all of a sudden.”

FINIS