She should leave, now. Slip out of the door while Jack was pouring the wine, but her wayward body would not move. She realised with a shock that she felt secure in this man’s room, where the air was redolent with wine and wood smoke, with spices, soap and leather. And, knowing that Sir Ronald Deforge was still a guest in the house, she did not want to be alone.
Jack carried two glasses of wine across the room and offered one to her. He was not surprised to see that she had moved from the bed to a chair by the fire. She was sitting bolt upright, rigid with tension. Pity stirred within him when he saw the anxious look on her face. She took the glass and held it in both hands, staring down at the dark liquid.
Jack hooked his toe around the leg of a footstool and dragged it across so that he could sit at her feet.
‘Drink it,’ he urged her. ‘It is not drugged. I have no evil designs upon you.’
She looked at him, a faint smile breaking the rigidity of her countenance.
‘I would not think that of you. I left my cloak in Alex’s room.’
Jack indicated his shirt sleeves, billowing out from the tight-fitting waistcoat.
‘My frockcoat is there, too. We must trust Farrell to return them to us in the morning.’
‘So there is nothing to worry about.’
He met her eyes, hoping his smile would reassure her.
‘No, madam, there is nothing to worry about.’
As she sipped at the wine Jack sensed the tension draining out of her. After a little while she leaned back in the chair and they sat in a comfortable silence. Jack stared into the fire, his elbows resting on his knees as he cradled the glass between his hands. He was very aware of the woman sitting in the chair. If he leaned slightly towards her, his arm would be touching her thigh. By turning just a little more he could rest his head in her lap. How pleasant that would be! How pleasant to be able to sit like this every evening. He glanced down at her dainty ankles and little feet. Her stockings were stained with mud and grass, reminding him of what had occurred that night. He would make no progress with her while she was in danger. If only he could extricate her from this mess, then perhaps she might consider his suit.
His suit?
Jack caught himself up. What was he thinking of? Not marriage, surely. It had always been his intention to settle down one day and this had included some vague plan to find himself a wife, but he had envisaged proposing to someone like his childhood sweetheart, Clara, an innocent maid of good family, not a widow whose past was so dubious that it was ripe for extortion. He glanced again at the woman before him. All at once her past seemed unimportant: he was certain in his own mind that whatever she had done it could not be so very bad. If she had had a string of lovers—well, who was he to criticise that?
Eloise stirred in her chair. She finished her wine and put down her glass upon the hearth.
‘Thank you. I should go now.’
‘Stay a little longer.’
‘I—um—my feet are wet. I should dry them.’
Her blue eyes flickered over his face. There was nothing of the coquette in the look she gave him, only uncertainty, and a shy wistfulness. Suddenly his heart was hammering against his ribs. Why not? whispered the voice in his head. If the lady is willing.
‘You can do that here,’ he murmured. ‘If you will allow me.’
Eloise gripped the arms of the chair as he put out one hand and gently pushed her skirts up to expose her knee. One word, one tiny gesture would stop him, she knew that, but she said nothing. She remained motionless as he untied her garter. An aching excitement pooled low in her body, her skin tingling in anticipation of his touch. She watched him roll the silk stocking down her calf and gently pull it away from her toes.
‘There, that’s better. Now, shall I remove the other one?’
No! She knew she should be running from this room, screaming. He was undressing her, carrying out a task that no one other than a husband should be permitted to perform. It was wrong. Immoral. Indecent. She should stop him. She looked at him, opening her mouth to object, but Jack was smiling at her and she felt the last remnants of her resistance melting away. Her mouth closed again and she was aware that she was nodding.
‘Yes, please.’
The lightness of his touch was an almost unbearable pleasure and when his hand cupped her heel as he removed the second stocking she gave a little moan.
Jack glanced up.
‘Is anything wrong?’
He was still holding her foot, his thumb idly stroking her ankle and inducing a wonderfully soothing lassitude throughout her body. It was an effort to speak.
‘I did not realise how chilled I had become.’
She bit her lip to prevent herself protesting as he released her foot and turned away.
He picked up the poker and began to stir up the fire.
‘Stay here, then, until you are warm again.’
Relief suffused her, and a warm rush of gratitude for this man. She smiled and stretched, luxuriating in the warmth of the fire and the calm, soothing atmosphere of the room.
‘I should like to stay here for ever,’ she murmured. ‘To sit by this fire, warm and comfortable and not worry about anything—it is my idea of paradise! But it cannot be. I must get back to my room before anyone begins to wake.’
‘It is still dark,’ said Jack. ‘The servants will not be abroad for another hour or so yet.’ He reached for her hands and pulled her to her feet. ‘Stay here and let me show you my idea of paradise.’
Eloise gazed up into his face, mesmerised by the glow of the firelight reflected in his dark eyes. She trembled as his hands ran lightly over her arms and on to her shoulders. Her lips parted in a tiny gasp of expectation when he bent his head towards her. Her last, conscious thought was that he was going to kiss her—that she wanted him to kiss her, but the sensation of his mouth sliding across hers drove everything from her mind, save a desire to kiss him back. She threw her arms around his neck, leaning against his hard body while his tongue explored her mouth and played havoc with her senses. She felt as if she was floating and realised that indeed her feet were no longer on the floor, for Jack’s arms were crushing her against him, lifting her as easily as a rag doll.
Desire consumed her. She returned Jack’s kisses with a passion that was both exciting and confusing. She followed his lead, and if her kisses were inexpert he did not seem to mind, but held her even more closely. There was a crash as he kicked the footstool aside and carried her to the bed where he placed her down, all the time covering her face and neck with warm, heady kisses. When he raised his head she reached out and pulled him back towards her, intoxicated by his presence. He lay down with her, measuring his length against her, and she gasped as his hand came up to cup her breast. His thumb slipped beneath the lacy edge of her bodice and stroked gently over her nipple. She pushed against his touch, her skin tightening as the excitement built within her. She fumbled with the buttons of his waistcoat, eager for him to remove it yet sighing with frustration when Jack broke away from her. He gave a soft laugh.
‘Patience, my lady. There is time to undress: I’ll not tumble you like some cheap straw damsel.’
He shrugged himself out of his waistcoat and as he pulled his shirt over his head Eloise sat up and slipped her arms around his waist. She laid her face against the flat plain of his stomach, caressing him with her cheek. He groaned and fell back on the bed, drawing her to him again and as his mouth captured hers he tugged on the drawstring fastenings of her bodice. Between frantic kisses they discarded their clothes until they were lying naked together on the bed, their bodies illuminated only by the residual light of the dying fire and a single, flickering candle.
Jack pushed himself up on one elbow and stared down at her. Eloise did not make any effort to cover herself. She basked in the admiration of his glance, revelling in the novel sensation of truly enjoying a man’s attentions.
‘You are beautiful,’ he murmured, resting one hand on her naked thigh.
She smiled up at him, putting her hand to his cheek and gently drawing his face down to hers. His kiss was slow and thorough and she never wanted it to stop. The hand on her thigh slid up and inwards. Her body responded instinctively, pushing against his fingers while a heady excitement grew inside her, spreading through her body. She arched her back, gasping, only vaguely aware of Jack’s body shifting on top of her. She dug her fingers into his back and cried out as they were united. There was an exhilarating, joyful satisfaction in knowing they were as physically close as any man and woman could be but even that was not the end. Their bodies were moving together, the blood singing in her veins as the dizzying excitement rose higher and higher until there was no more conscious thought. She cried out and clung on tightly as she felt herself tumbling and crashing into oblivion.
Jack lay with Eloise in his arms. He was breathing heavily, dazed and exhausted by the physical and emotional ferocity of their union . It had never happened before, even after battle when he had taken comfort in the arms of a woman; he had never experienced such an all-consuming passion. His arms tightened possessively. Whatever secrets the lady’s past might hold he did not care. She stirred in his arms.
‘Awake, sweetheart?’ He nibbled gently at her ear. ‘Did you enjoy that?’