Jack's chest expanded on a deep breath. Caroline was the only woman he had ever pursued. He hungered for her, desired her on a level that went far beyond the physical. She felt their unusual connection as well, or she wouldn't be avoiding him. But running was futile. There was truly no choice for either of them. After that night in the Moreland garden their fate had been sealed. Soon she would see that.
"I missed her in Virginia by only an hour," he brooded, remembering the nearly unbearable frustration he'd felt when he learned she'd fled to London on one of his own ships. But he had come for her. She would not be getting away again. This time he would soothe her concerns.
This time he would be catching Caroline.
The carriage rolled to a halt and Jack alighted. He paused on the street and gazed up at the home where his love slept. Three storied and Georgian in design, it was situated in a part of town that was not quite fashionable. The street was quiet and dark. It was a location that suited Caroline--mysterious and on the fringes of society.
"Here is the key, Mr. Shaw."
Jack turned and held out his ungloved hand, his fingers curling around the metal that would grant him his deepest desire.
His carriage moved away, the clopping hooves of his team of four and the rolling of the wheels echoing eerily around him. Climbing the front steps of Caroline's townhouse, Jack gained entry with the key he'd ordered made from a wax impression.
Once inside he moved unerringly through the darkened house, following her scent and traversing the galleries without light until he found her.
Testing the door to her bedchamber, he was relieved to find the portal unlocked and he entered, sliding the bolt home behind him.
The room was shadowed in almost complete darkness. The fire in the grate was banked and barely gave off light, but he had no difficulty seeing. It was a small room, but perhaps that was merely the impression he received from the massive bed that dominated the space. Before the fire waited two wingback chairs. A book and blanket rested upon the arm of one; a cozy picture that warmed him as surely as the coals.
As if she sensed his presence, Caroline stirred restlessly. "Jack," she breathed in a sleep-throaty murmur that made his skin mist with sweat and his cock swell.
Stepping away from the door, he moved toward her, the tight knot of longing he'd felt these last years loosening with her proximity. He lit the taper on the nightstand and paused at the fierce reaction of his body to the sight of her in the bed. In the golden glow of the candle Caroline was ravishing.
Her soft, creamy skin was flawless. Against the white linen pillow, the gleaming curls of her hair were spread with wanton abandon. His fists clenched against the powerful urge to run his fingers through them, to cup her head in his hands and hold her still for his ravishment. Her full lips were parted with the deep, rhythmic breaths of slumber, which lifted her chest and outlined her ripe breasts against her night rail.
He smiled. Within moments those breasts would be bare and pressed to his chest, that sweetly parted mouth would be panting and crying out his name as he made love to her like he'd wanted to do for years.
It was time for her to see him as well, to remember and feel the powerful attraction between them, an attraction so overwhelming that time, distance, and unfamiliarity had not affected it.
Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, Jack brushed the back of his hand across her cheek. She nuzzled into the caress, but slept on. His smile widened. Using the sheer power of his will, he called to her, Caroline, come back to me.
* * * * *
Caroline sat up, and discovered Jack Shaw once again invading her dreams. Dressed simply in sweater, breeches and boots, his casual attire bred a familiarity far removed from the glittering ballrooms and Society events from which she knew him and dreamed of him. His hair was slightly longer than she normally pictured it, the dark ebony strands falling across his proud forehead and curling at his nape.
But some things were constant. The sharp silver of his irises glowed with sexual intent and his full, firm lips were curved in the wicked smile that made her heart race.
She took a deep breath, resigned to her torment. He was so achingly gorgeous she had no defenses against him, and the tenderness of his gaze shattered what was left of her heart. Pushing her curls away from her face, she asked mournfully, "Why must you torture me?"
He blinked as if she'd startled him. "What are you talking about, sweetheart?"
"You know very well what I'm asking you. Why can't you allow me even one night of restful slumber? I think of you ceaselessly during my waking hours, why must my sleep suffer as well?"
Already her body ached far worse than usual. Her skin was tight and hot, her breasts heavy and tender. She licked her lips, desperate for a taste of him, and watched his eyes flare with desire at the movement.