Between a Rake and a Hard Place (18 page)

“DAFFODIL: Perhaps her Ladyship dislikes the opera singers, because they are like fashionable husbands! he! he! he!

MACPHARO: Like fashionable husbands! How is that, Daffodil? Is it because they are usually accompanied by horns?”

—
from
The Ton; or, Follies of Fashion
by Lady Wallace

House parties are rife with opportunities for indiscretion. Once the gay Society of London descends upon Wyndebourne, is it possible that the royal duke might sprout the horns of a cuckold even before his match with Lady S. is settled?

From
Le Dernier Mot,

The
Final Word on News That Everyone
Who Is Anyone Should
Know

Serena squirmed in the tufted chair before her fire, turned to the second page of her friend Lysandra's letter, and held it closer to the light of the candle.

“And so, my dear friend, there is no doubt that the feckless Miss Pinckney finds herself in an ‘interesting condition.' Worst of all, her father has yet to convince the gentleman responsible—if the silly chit knows which gentleman that is!—to do the honorable thing. If the scoundrel can be identified, I expect it will come to pistols at dawn before a rushed wedding can be affected. For Miss Pinckney's sake, let us hope it is soon. Heaven knows, she can only let out her seams so many times before the gown will no longer give.”

Serena sighed. “Trust Lysandra to have the most barbed gossip to share.”

There was a time when Serena would have joined her friend in shaking her head over the foolish behavior that led to Miss Pinckney's predicament. They'd have decided the girl deserved the shame being heaped upon her for giving into her baser urges.

But that was before Jonah made her aware of the power of those urges.

“I tell you these things, Serena, my dear, because I remember how dreadfully obvious Sir Jonah Sharp was about displaying his interest in you before you left Town. It's come to my ears that the upstart baronet accompanied you and Miss Braithwaite to Wyndebourne and, even more shocking, has remained in residence there.

Never say you have encouraged him.”

She bit her lip. What would Lysandra say if she'd seen the way Serena threw herself into Jonah's arms in the stable?

“At any rate, I shall be there shortly and if I perceive that Sir Jonah has gotten above himself with you, you may depend upon me to deliver him a scathing cut direct!”

A cut direct was the most damning of public censures. It involved looking right through the person to be shamed as if they were not even there at such a time when the action would be seen and marked by the most influential people. It shouted “You are dead to Polite Society and unworthy of the rarified air you breathe” more effectively than a raging scene.

Lysandra was a master of the art.

Serena crumpled the letter without reading the rest. Her father always encouraged her to court the good opinion of the ton, but suddenly what Lysandra and her ilk thought meant less than nothing to her.

How dare Lysandra feel herself above Jonah?

She really knew nothing about him. She had no idea what he'd done for his king and country and how the gravity of that service weighed upon him. She didn't know he was quick-witted and a handy man in a pinch, a situation in which Serena often found herself. Lysandra had no clue that Jonah had not only
not
laughed when he learned about Serena's list of forbidden pleasures, but he'd helped her experience so many of them that she was beginning to lose count.

Of course, Lysandra didn't know about that secret list at all, and Serena was glad she'd never confided in her.

What
Lysandra
doesn't know won't hurt me.

And most of all, her friend had no idea how Jonah made Serena feel every time they embarked on one of those small adventures together. It was more than just the excitement of exploring the unknown with a knowledgeable guide.

She was safe with him.

He didn't upbraid her for her wants. He took the unruly part of her that longed for the extraordinary and accepted it as no one ever had.

Serena ripped Lysandra's letter to pieces and scattered them on the embers of the fire in the grate. She took grim satisfaction in watching them flare briefly and then curl into gray ash.

“How's that for a cut direct?” Serena said with vehemence.

“Who are you talking to?” came a whispered voice from the dark.

Serena startled, hand to her chest, but when he stepped into the light of the fire, she let out her pent up breath in a single whoosh. “Jonah, you scared the life out of me. How did you manage to enter the room without me hearing you?”

“Practice,” he said. “Lots and lots of practice.”

Well, an assassin for the Crown would need to be stealthy, wouldn't he?

She shoved that uncomfortable thought away. With any luck, Honeywood was well on his way to locating the unfortunate man Jonah had sought in Portsmouth and would convince the mysterious Sgt. Leatherby to flee before Jonah was forced to kill him.

The sooner Jonah stopped living that shadowy double life the mysterious Triad required of him, the sooner his soul could heal and he'd be free to live the life he was intended to live.

“What are you burning?” he asked.

She moved away from the crispy remains of Lysandra's letter. “It's nothing. My friend's foolishness upset me. I suppose I should have read it to the end, but I simply lost patience with her.”

He snorted. “Remind me not to try your patience.”

“Too late for that. You always do.”

***

She hadn't moved toward him, but it seemed as if she leaned his way, as if her weight rested on the balls of her feet and she strained in his direction, merely waiting for the right moment to slip the invisible cord that bound her and launch herself at him.

A
man
can
hope, can't he?

“What am I doing to try your patience now?” he asked.

“Well, for one thing,” she said with cat's satisfied smile, “you've been here for more than a minute and haven't tried to kiss me once.”

He bounded across the room to her in half a heartbeat and took her into his arms. “Serena, you should know by now that when I decide to do something, I don't try. I do.”

Jonah bent to kiss her, but he didn't have far to go. She stood on tiptoe to meet him halfway, her face flushed in breathless anticipation. When his mouth covered hers, it was as if they picked up exactly where they'd left off in the stable, the sudden passion between them flaring white-hot. He knew his kiss was probably bruising her lips, but Serena gave as good as she got, nipping and suckling.

He should've known she'd never do anything by halves.

Jonah kissed along her jawline and down her neck. He sucked at the tender skin below her ear for a moment. “Lord, you taste so good.”

She tipped her head back, giving him better access, and murmured incoherent little nothings that went straight to his groin. He fisted her hair to hold her still as he kissed along her collarbone, parting her wrapper and shoving the silk off her shoulders. She whimpered when he trailed his tongue along the lacy top of her night rail. Then she threaded her fingers through his hair, kneading his scalp in encouragement.

Even though the room was dim, the dark shadows of her nipples showed beneath the thin muslin. Jonah wasn't going to settle for suckling her through the fabric this time. He tugged the ribbon that held her bodice closed with his teeth. The knot gave and the fabric fell away, baring the curves of her breasts.

He parted the front of her night rail and looked down at her. Her breasts weren't overly large, but they were perfectly sized to fit the palm of his hand. He cupped them both. Her hot, hard nipples fairly scorched his palm.

He bent and took one into his mouth, sucking hard. The tip was sweet and felt so good between his lips.

“Oh, Jonah, what are you doing to me?” she murmured. She grasped his shoulders and hooked one leg around his to steady herself.

“You tell me.” He brought his teeth down on the taut bud in a sharp love nip. She rewarded him with a gasp. “How do I make you feel?”

“Wild and out of control.” She gave a shuddering breath and rocked herself against him. “More than a little wicked.”

“If there's wickedness done tonight, let it be on my head.” Jonah straightened and ran his hands down her spine. Then he cupped her bum and pressed her against his hardness. “I'll answer for it.”

Serena reached up and stroked his cheek. “I want you here, Jonah. This is my choice. If there are consequences, they are my consequences too. Only…”

“Only what?”

“Only a woman's consequences are always more serious than a man's.” She unhooked her knee from around his leg and settled her foot back on the floor. “I supposed it's my friend Lysandra's letter that's making me fret. She wrote me about a mutual acquaintance of ours who now finds herself with child while she is yet unmarried. A consequence which is unthinkable to me.”

She worried her lower lip, and Jonah felt the tension roiling off her. She wanted two things at once—both sensual adventure and safety. Just because she was passionate didn't mean she'd checked her sense of self-preservation at the door to possible ruin.

“Is there a way, Jonah…I mean, is it possible…for us to please each other without me losing…”

He put a finger to her lips to stop her. She didn't mean to surrender her maidenhead to him after all. To his very great surprise, he was relieved. Not that he didn't long to bury himself in her, to feel her engulfing him completely. And not that he didn't need to claim her virginity in order to satisfy Mr. Alcock's demands.

Serena had led him a merry chase. But if he took her this night, the hunt would be over. He'd have finished his commission, spoiled any chance she had to become a royal duchess, and she would hate him for it once she realized why he'd done it. He was fully prepared to fight with her, to argue with her over her list, or to protect her from herself when she insisted on doing something dangerous.

But he wasn't ready for her to hate him. If she did, what would become of that hot lump in his chest?

“You are going to be closer to me tonight than you've ever been to another human being since the moment of your birth,” Jonah said. “Trust me, Serena, I'll see to it nothing we do together will cause you shame. But I have to know something.”

“What?” she asked as she sagged against him.

“Is this just another item from your list?”

***

He looked down at her with such an earnest, hungry expression, his brows drawn together, his mouth tight. It seemed terribly important to him that this night wasn't about her list. Yet she couldn't find it in her to tell him a soothing lie.

“This is a forbidden pleasure I didn't dare write down. But yes, it's on the list.” She grasped the lapel of his banyan and tugged him closer, willing him to understand. “I know if I marry the royal duke, I can't expect a love match. I can't even expect tenderness.” Tears pressed against the back of her eyes, but she blinked them away. She didn't want anything to mar this night. “Even so, I know I'll have to give myself to my husband and he may use my body as he will. But at least once in my life, I want to lie with a man of my choosing.”

She unbuttoned her night rail to the waist, slipped it off her shoulders, and let it fall to the floor. She was more than naked before him. Her heart was naked too, and surprisingly she felt no shame.

“I choose you, Jonah.”

***

“You're so beautiful,” Jonah said softly. He was half-afraid he was dreaming and might wake himself if he spoke too loudly. She lifted her chin and rewarded him with a smile that melted something inside him.

His hot gaze traveled over her flawless skin, her rose-tipped breasts, and the soft-looking triangle of curls at the juncture of her legs. The cinch of her waist and the flare of her hips were in perfect proportion. His mouth sagged a bit in speechless awe of her.

Then he realized she hadn't really said what he was hoping to hear.

Fool
, he named himself.
Did
you
really
think
she'd toss away a chance at a crown for the likes of you?

But it was close enough. Serena wanted him. She'd chosen him. She was prepared to trust him with herself.

An old soldier had given him a piece of advice once that had stood him in good stead no matter how unlikely the situation to which he applied it.
When
in
doubt, son, always eat.

Jonah would revel in the feast set before him and try not to wish for the more nourishing fare of a declaration of love everlasting.

As
if
such
a
thing
truly
exists.

He began to wonder what was happening to him. As little as a month ago, such thoughts would never have occurred to him in the presence of a willing naked woman. He must be going a bit soft in the head.

But he was definitely not soft anywhere else. Jonah started to untie the belt at his waist.

“No,” she said. “Let me. I've never undressed a man before.”

Jonah let his hands fall to his sides. “If that's another thing on your list, far be it from me to disappoint you.”

She flashed him another small smile, this time one that seemed unusually shy from a woman who'd just peeled out of her night rail and was as bare as God made her. Then she tugged at his belt and parted the silk sleeping robe. Her eyes flared as she looked him over. His cock twitched as if she'd stroked it.

“Oh, no, Jonah. You never disappoint.”