Brazen Temptress (23 page)

She pulled back and studied him, as if searching for more than just easy answers. "Was it like you said, did you try to stop it?"

He nodded, unwilling to say any more. How could he change her vision of the past? Words wouldn't do it, at least not from him. She was a stubborn woman, and her forgiveness would have to come from her heart, for her eyes would never see the past in any other light than what she'd witnessed in those few brief moments that had changed their lives irreparably.

"I'm so sorry, Reenie. Your father was a good man and a fine captain. His death was my fault. I truly never thought he'd die that day. I thought —"

"Sshh," she told him, pressing a finger to his lips. "I believe you. I have to. I can't live my life anymore with this emptiness." She paused for a moment, her eyes taking on a faraway gaze. "I just wish ..."

He knew what she wished. That her father hadn't died. That they'd been able to live the life they'd only glimpsed in the few short hours they'd had together.

But there was nothing he could do to change the past. "From here on, Reenie, we chart a new course together. We'll explore it like an open sea. We'll share it with Ethan. Share it, Reenie. He's your son, first and foremost, but all I ask is for a chance to get to know him."

Maureen laid her head on his shoulder. "Ethan would like that. He needs a father. And family. He's never had anyone else but me and Aunt Pettigrew."

Family!
He hadn't thought about that. How would he tell his family that he had not only a wife, but a seven-year-old son? He started to chuckle.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"My sisters will have my hide when I bring you and Ethan home."

"I like them," Maureen told him. "They were kind to Lady Mary."

"My sisters?" He shuddered. "Sophia and Lily are the two worst busybodies who've ever stalked the face of the earth. They learned their lessons at the feet of a master, my Aunt Dearsley."

"Tell me more."

"Not now," he said. "We'll have plenty of time ahead of us to discuss my family. Wouldn't you rather talk about something else?" He nuzzled her neck. "I know for a fact that there is a fine tradition of leaving one's window open for your husband, and it isn't so he can chatter the night away about his harridan sisters."

"Ah, yes, the window," she said, her fingers brushing over his shoulders, her touch light and tantalizing. "I almost forgot. I did leave that open for you."

"And why was that, Reenie?"

"As I said before, because I wanted to warn you." Her voice carried the hint of a wishful dream. As she realized what she was admitting, she glanced away.

"And is that the only reason? Just to warn me?"

She shook her head softly. Turning toward him, she let the blanket she'd worn like a shield fall away, leaving her clad only in her shift.

In the candlelight, her soft, fair skin glowed. His fingers traced over her shoulders, tangling in the strands of dark silken hair that lay there in thick coils. He'd loved the feel of her hair from the first moment he'd touched it on the
Forgotten Lady.
Like silk. Thick and dark. So black, it held all the mysteries of a moonless night.

For a moment he just let it fall through his fingers, slowly moving each lock until he'd bared her shoulders.

Then he slowly eased the straps of her shift down, baring even more of her fair skin.

The sight and touch of her drew him closer. He nuzzled her neck, kissing and nibbling every inch, while his hands continued to ply through her long hair.

She arched, pressing herself closer. "Make me your wife again, Julien. Make me feel alive."

He kissed the hollow of her neck, the edge of her collarbone, and down to the tops of her rounded breasts. His hand at her hip, roamed upward, pushing the fabric along, tracing a path until it came to the rising peak of her nipple.

Brushing her slip up and over her head, he sighed as he saw her again, anew, for the first time in so long.

She was even more exquisite, the lush ripeness of her body having matured over the last eight years.

He kissed her, drawing her mouth to his, drowning his needs in her soft sighs. Her lips teased his, opened to his, drew him closer.

"Julien," she whispered in a throaty moan, "I want so much more." She tugged at his shirt and pulled it over his head.

For a moment he paused, letting her touch him as he had touched her. She stroked his chest, ran her hands over his shoulders, as if reacquainting herself with every muscle, every line. Then he remembered, remembered the one thing he didn't want her to know, so he leaned forward and blew out the light, plunging them into darkness.

It would be so easy to prove to her how sincerely sorry he was about the past. To show her the proof of his claims. But that seemed too easy. He wanted her to come to him because she'd found the way on her own.

"When did you become so shy?" she teased, her hands on the waistband of his breeches.

"Hardly that with you as my wife," he said. "But the light may draw attention from the servants or the guards below."

She glanced at the door and the window. "I'd hate to be interrupted."

"My thoughts exactly," he told her, pulling her to her feet and allowing her to ease his breeches off. They stood together, with only their sense of touch, exploring each other's body anew.

Hips brushing together, her breasts softly leaning into his chest, her leg winding around his so her thigh edged against him.

Slowly, their eyes adjusted to the meager light floating in from the window, until he could easily see the dusky passion in her eyes.

He kissed her again, this time deeper and with a rush of need. When he pulled back for air, he felt like a man deprived for years, insatiable in his need for her. He needed to kiss her everywhere, taste her, feel her.

With his hands cradling her breasts, he used his lips to tease and suckle first one, then the other nipple to a fevered peak. She arched and moaned under his touch, while her hands steadied herself on his shoulders.

He let one hand dip lower, slowly parting the curls below, stroking the heated place between her legs.

Maureen writhed under his touch, lost in the first waves of a passion she never thought she'd know again.

"Julien," she whispered over and over.

It was as if he'd never forgotten her body and how it answered to his touch.

Then he taught her something new. He knelt before her, his mouth closing over the spot where his fingers had been.

Before she realized exactly what he was going to do, his tongue teased open the feminine folds and then lapped at her with an intimacy so intense she found herself gasping.

She rose up on her tiptoes, her breath having stopped in her throat, her mouth gaping, her hands gripping the nightstand behind her to steady herself. "Oh, Julien, what is this?"

He looked up. "Steady now, Reenie. Let me love you."

As he began anew to kiss her so sweetly, her eyes closed and she gave over to the delicious sensations. His mouth closed over her, suckling her, opening her further, drawing from her waves of desire. Her hips moved with him, dancing in cadence to his sensual call.

When she didn't think she could take the sweet torture of it any further, her release came, catching her unaware, shuddering through her body. It was all she could do not to call out, let free a siren's cry equal to the sensations he'd brought out in her.

Just as quickly, Julien held her in his arms, cradling her, laying her onto the bed, and holding her through the delicious aftermath.

She lay there, spent and dreamy.

"Did you like that, Reenie?" he asked, kissing her ear and running his fingers through her hair. "Did that make you feel alive?"

"Uh-huh," she managed to murmur.

He laughed softly, and for a time he held her in his arms and stroked her passion-heated skin.

Eventually she rolled toward him. "Why didn't you teach me that before?"

He smiled and shrugged. "You can't expect a man to give away all his tricks in one night, now, can you?"

"You have any more tricks you care to share?"

"Greedy girl," he said, kissing her deeply.

Her hands roamed over his back, recalling every muscle, every line, until she came to something she didn't remember. Her fingers traced a ragged scar, wide and deep, as if it had been burned into his flesh.

She strained to look over his shoulder. "What happened here?"

He pulled her away. " 'Tis nothing. I just got hit by a bit of falling timber last year during a fight. Really, it was nothing."

Before she could ask anything further, he was kissing her, reawakening her passions. However, this time she was determined that she wouldn't be alone in finding release.

He wasn't the only one with a trick or two to share.

She kissed him back, hard and hungry. Her hand trailed down his chest until she found his manhood, aroused and waiting for her. Wetting her fingers with her mouth, she stroked the length with long, languid motions. Her toe traced a line up and down his leg, so her thigh rubbed against his. She wanted him to feel the same aching need that he'd unleashed in her.

Then she wanted him to be overcome by it, succumb to it. Let it take him over the edge.

A throaty growl issued from his throat, making her smile. She continued to stroke him while her lips sought his, teasing his tongue. It was definitely Julien's turn to writhe beneath her touch.

When she knew he was close, she let go of him and kissed him deeply. Then, catching him by surprise, she rolled on top of him, drawing the tip of his manhood inside her, moving over him with a slow rocking motion until he was encased within her.

She worked the rhythm of her movements like the cadence of waves on a beach. Fast and steady, then backing off and riding him with a slow, easy pace that kept him just at the brink.

His breathing became irregular, as if he couldn't find enough air in the room.

She knew how he felt, for even as she worked her own brand of magic on him, she found herself caught in the passionate web building between them.

His hips rose to meet hers, thrusting deeper into her, rubbing against her and drawing from her the same waves of longing. He wanted his release, and he was charting a course to take them both there together.

His thumb moved over the spot where their bodies joined and added an additional friction to her rising needs, and then he made one last thrust into her, deep and full of his pent-up need for her.

Like the crash of thunder, the ragged cry of a sea-bird, the release they both craved came over them. It pounded over their senses, leaving them staring into each other's eyes with a sense of awe and wonderment.

Julien's arms wrapped around her, drawing her down on his chest, so their bodies rocked together through the last vestiges of the storm.

Eventually, the stillness of the night surrounded them, cradling them in their own world. When they finally spoke, it was of their future, of Ethan, and of what they would do once the war ended.

It seemed to Maureen that in this night she'd rediscovered life, found a new beginning.

Renewed what had been lost for too long.

Her heart. Her soul.

"Ah, Reenie," Julien finally said. "Where the devil did you learn those tricks?"

She was almost too embarrassed to tell him.

He rolled on top of her, tickling her. "Don't tell me you've got a lover hidden in one of your smuggler's hideaways?"

Her mouth opened wide in outrage. "I certainly have not."

"Come on, tell the truth," he said, his fingers teasing her sides until she couldn't help but giggle.

"Stop, stop," she said. "I'll tell you."

He paused, poised over her. "So?"

"I'm a smuggler, and sometimes I don't always carry tea and sugar."

"I don't understand," he said.

"I make runs from France all the time. One time I got a load of books."

"Books?" he said, his eyebrows rising. "What type of books?"

"Books with pictures," she said, feeling a hot blush rise on her cheeks.

"What sort of pictures?"

"Pictures the likes of which I'd never seen." Or thought possible, she realized, until tonight.

He laughed softly. "I can well imagine. What did you do with them?"

"Sold them, of course. You wouldn't believe what they fetched. Better profits than brandy or silk."

"I can imagine," he said. "Did you keep a volume for yourself?"

She grinned. "No, but I have an amazing memory."

"Do tell," he teased.

And so she did.

The afternoon of the Trahern masquerade, Lady Mary was in a high state about their costumes. Since the Lord Admiral had all but cut off any more expenses associated with Maureen, the lady was forced to make do with what she could.

Maureen had told her not to fret so much over the costume, for it mattered little what she wore, considering the fact that after tonight she would be free of London and the Lord Admiral's demands.

Her night with Julien had set her free. Free of the past, free to live her future. She hadn't minded in the least when he'd crept out her window at the first light of dawn. She knew their night was just the beginning of a new life for both of them. One they would start in just a few hours.

And she couldn't wait.

But Lady Mary would hear none of her protests.

She stitched tirelessly, consulting Lucy and digging through trunks and clothes presses, stealing the bits of trim and fabric she needed to complete her designs.

With Maureen's dark hair, the lady had decided the perfect choice for her would be to attend as Cleopatra, a choice Maureen protested vehemently. Lady Mary continued blithely on her course and, with Lucy's help, completed the incredible costume about two hours before the ball began.

As the lady laid out the beautiful creation on the narrow attic bed, Maureen could only stare dumbstruck at the costume she was to wear.

A sheer white muslin would drape from her shoulders to the floor, leaving her arms entirely bare. The neckline plunged deeply, trimmed with a gold cord that looked suspiciously like it belonged on a naval uniform. An Egyptian-styled motif had been embroidered around the hemline.