Corey McFadden (26 page)

“Giles,” she said as he pressed a snifter of amber fluid into her hand, “I don’t even see a mirror. Surely you have a mirror somewhere?”

“There’s one on the back of the door to the armoire, Joanna,” he replied, his eyes dancing. “But I can assure you that you look lovely, and if you have any thought of fixing your hair, I can assure you further that you are wasting your time.” As if to illustrate his point, he reached over and gently tugged at a few pins, spilling dark, curling tendrils about her face.

For a moment they stood apart, staring at one another, then he stepped toward her, the need plain in his eyes.

In response, she held up her arms to him. In a flash his arms were about her as he crushed her to him, his lips in her hair, on her neck, her cheek.

With gentle, unsure fingers she traced a line down his chest.

He moaned and grabbed her hand, bringing it to his mouth, kissing her fingers, the palm of her hand, her wrist. She could feel the heat building inside her.

His hand strayed to her neck, then down her shoulder. His touch was velvet soft but hot as fire. So lightly she could hardly feel it, his hand brushed across her breast. A moan rose in her throat as the heat rushed through her. She heard his groan as his hand cupped her breast through the silk of her gown. She could feel him pushed against the length of her and she knew she needed to be closer, pressed tightly. He slid his hand down her back to her buttocks and pulled her more tightly to him. She could feel the hardness of his chest, his muscled thighs pushing against hers. He was hard. Some small, faraway part of her registered the wonder of the feeling even as her body responded, driving her hard against him. She heard him gasp as she pressed herself to him.

He kissed her softly on her neck, moving his lips to the base of her throat, leaving a trail of fire on her skin. His hand parted the buttons on the back of her gown and he slipped it down softly, exposing her in her shift to the soft lamplight. He pulled back and gazed at her, his breath coming in jagged gasps. Gently he lifted his hand and found her breast, kneading the soft flesh, circling her nipple, now taut, with his fingers. Joanna felt as if she could hardly breathe. Never had she imagined such a feeling. It grew inside of her with an urgency she could put no name to, yet she knew she would explode if he kept on touching her like this.

Her hand slipped into his shirt and she found herself working open the buttons. She could feel his chest now, hard and muscled, his skin hot as fire to the touch. He moaned as she moved her hand over him, pulling his shirt open, flesh against flesh.

His lips slipped still lower, still gentle, still hot. She cried out as his tongue found her nipple, circling, sucking. And his hand moved down, down over her hip, her thigh. She could feel her gown sliding slowly down her legs, and she heard his moan as his hand met her soft flesh. He stroked her gently, running his hand up and down her leg, then, suddenly, sweeping her into his arms and walking over to the bed. Gently he laid her down, working the dress off where it had caught about her legs. She lay now with her shift half on and half off, her breasts gleaming in the lamplight, heaving with each breath she took.

“You are so beautiful, Joanna,” he whispered, his finger tracing around her peaked nipple.

He slipped next to her in the bed, pulling the bedclothes out from under them both. He pulled her tightly to him, half tearing her shift out from between them, and Joanna gasped when she felt the heat of him, felt the evidence of his passion hard between them. His hands began their roving again as his lips seized hers, his tongue plundering her mouth. Cupping her buttocks, he again pulled her tightly to him.

She gasped when his hand slipped between her legs, and she pulled back.

“Do you want me to stop, Joanna?” he whispered raggedly in her ear. “Am I going too fast for you?” But even as she tried to say yes, that she was frightened, that she wanted to slow down, she could feel herself pushing toward him, craving his touch, needing that pressure, there, there where he touched her.

“No,” she whispered brokenly, driving herself hard against him. Fire was shooting in waves through her belly and she could not stop. She could feel him hard through his breeches, pushing against her leg. Almost without thinking, she slid her hand to the front of his breeches and rubbed the hard bulge she found there.

“Ahhh,” he groaned. “Joanna, if you do that I won’t be able to stop.” He spoke in gasps, at the same time holding her hand against himself. “I need you so much.”

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, rubbing him hard now. “I don’t want you to stop.” It was maddening to touch him so. She wanted desperately to tear away the cloth that separated them. She felt that if she could not feel him against her, flesh against flesh, she would go mad. The tiny bells of fear in her brain were silent now, drowned out by the rushing pulse of her desire.

She could feel him fumbling with the fastenings that held his breeches shut. Then he was free, thrusting forward, large and hard—and daunting.

“You’re frightened,” he whispered softly, seeing the fear suddenly in her passion-filled eyes. He pulled her gently toward him. “I will be as gentle as I know how to be, my love. I wouldn’t hurt you for the world.” He nibbled at her ear as he spoke, sending little shivers down her neck.

In answer, she reached down and took him in her hand, hearing him groan as she did so, squeezing him tight. It was amazing that something could be so hard, and yet so soft as well. He thrust against her hand harder and faster, pulling back abruptly.

“Wait, stop. I will lose control,” he rasped. He reached down again between her legs, probing at her secret place, hot and moist. She started as his fingers touched her, sliding between her nether lips, then she moaned and rocked against him, building her rhythm, faster and faster. He drew back his hand and she moaned her protest. Quickly he straddled her, holding himself up, taking care not to lean any of his weight against her chest.

“This will hurt you, my love,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I won’t be able to keep from hurting you.”

“It’s all right,” she answered through a haze of passion, wanting him to touch her again.

With one quick thrust he was inside and she cried out in pain.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, holding himself still while she grew used to the feeling.

She smiled up at him and reached a hand to his cheek. He groaned and began to move, slowly at first, then building his rhythm. An answering rhythm grew inside her as the pain receded, and she found herself thrusting forward to meet his thrusts, both of them breathing in gasps, reaching toward something she knew she must find. Suddenly she cried out as wave upon wave of pleasure washed through her. Above her, Giles, too, cried out as his seed burst forth with a shattering intensity.

For a moment there was no sound except their ragged breathing. Carefully he lowered himself to her side, pulling her close within his arms and pulling the blankets up around them both.

“Are you all right?” he murmured into her ear. “Did I hurt you?”

“Only at first,” she answered softly.

“It will not hurt again, my love,” he whispered, kissing her on the side of the neck, his hands beginning again to move slowly, wonderingly, over her flesh.

As Joanna felt the heat rising again within her, she turned and pushed herself tight against the length of him, laughing softly at the shudder that ran through his body, and wondering at the powerful magic of it all.

Chapter Thirteen

“I must go, sweetheart, I hope you understand. I would never leave you if it weren’t urgent.” He held her hand tightly and brought it to his lips.

“Of course you must go, Giles. There’s been a death. And please do not worry about us. We’ll be fine, although we’ll miss you.” Joanna’s eyes strayed down to the beach where the children, barefoot, were trying to outrun the surf, but not trying very hard. Their squeals could be heard at quite a distance.

Joanna and Giles lay on a blanket, spread out on the grass of the bluff overlooking the beach. It was a windy day, but with just enough spring in the breeze to make the day bracing instead of cold. She had been so pleased when she’d seen him coming to join the picnic, then so alarmed as she’d taken note of the stricken look on his face.

“Do you know how it happened, Giles?” she asked gently. It was clear he was distressed about the accidental death of Jimmy Bigod, one of his foremen in Dufton.

“Not yet. The messenger just arrived a little while ago with a short note. A cart accident of some sort. My God, Joanna, his wife has just finished her lying-in with her third babe. Why is the world so cruel?”

“It’s not cruel, really, Giles,” she said gently. She had listened to her father take part in this sort of discussion so many times over the years. “The world just plays according to its set laws. And it doesn’t change them to suit any of us. But there’s no cruelty in it.” It wasn’t much comfort, she knew, but he sounded so bleak and it was hard to explain away the senseless death of a fine young man.

“I had not planned to leave you here alone with Eleanor, darling. I’d take you with me, but the mines are no place for a woman.” He toyed with her fingers, as if he drew strength from her mere touch. “Of course, I could take Eleanor,” he went on, his eyes growing more playful, “but I’m quite sure I’d murder her before the week was out and I’d hate to have to go through all the bother of an inquest.”

Joanna giggled. She loved the way he touched her. It seemed that whenever they were together he was always touching her, gently, not pawing. And when they were completely alone...she blushed at the thought of what his hands could do to her, and other things as well....

And his eyes never left her, as though he were hungry and the sight of her gave him sustenance. It still seemed like a dream to her. They had been married only three days and it seemed hard to believe even now.

“In all seriousness, Joanna,” he said, sitting up, “I know you like to see the good in all people, but can you, at least for my peace of mind, agree to keep clear of my stepsister until I return? I’ll be gone only a few days. You don’t know her like I do, and she is not to be trusted.”

“Please don’t worry. Lady Eleanor has given us a wide berth for the past few days, Giles, so I do not suppose we’ll be running into her. Honestly, I don’t think she and I are even awake many of the same hours a day.”

“That’s true. But she is not happy about our marriage and is unhappier still that I’m moving her away from here, and I do not want her venting her considerable spleen in your direction.”

Joanna was greatly relieved that the details on renting the house for Lady Eleanor were nearly complete. She felt a bit cruel about it—after all, Queen’s Hall had been the woman’s home for a good number of years—but she contented her conscience by telling herself that Giles had rented a commodious, well-seated house near St. Bees, far enough south of Queen’s Hall that they could expect little but financial correspondence between the two households. And the artwork would be going with her ladyship, so she would feel right at home!

“And if she tries to discharge me, I am not to go?” Joanna asked, teasing the light back into his brown eyes.

“Not unless I discharge you, Lady Chapman. But so far, you have given satisfaction, so you needn’t fear your departure is imminent.” He reached for her and pulled her close for a quick kiss.

“How soon must you go, Giles?” asked Joanna, breaking away with a giggle. He had a very short fuse and it would not do to let him get started in full view of the children and the household!

“I must leave right away, my love. Are you certain you’ll be all right?” His eyes roamed her face as if he were memorizing it.

“Of course I will. I’ve so much to keep me busy. Tom is like a difficult puzzle. I keep finding one piece at a time and the picture grows clearer and clearer.” Indeed, the boy had opened up like a flower over the past few days. His speech was rudimentary—perhaps it would always be so—but he made himself understood. He had even gone so far as to hail Annie by name, which had brought a smile to the girl’s face and been the talk of the kitchen.

“I’ll send word to you. Tell Mrs. Davies or Hawton if you need anything. And remember, I am only a few hours away by horse. You can get word to me if you find yourself uneasy for any reason.” He pulled her to him, holding her tightly.

“Please take care of yourself, Giles,” she whispered into his neck. “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.”

“Nothing will happen to me, goose. It’s you I’m worried about.” His lips seized hers for a hard kiss. Then with another quick kiss dropped on her nose, he was gone, disappearing up the hill.

“Children, it’s time to go in now,” called Joanna. Unaccountably, the wind had picked up, bringing with it the hint of a chill rain. The sun vanished into a deep cloud she had not noticed before, and suddenly everything looked gray again....

* * * *

“It’s hard to fathom, Sir Giles.” Robbie MacAran’s eyes were troubled. “It was so much like your accident that I mislike the coincidence. Particularly as we was bein’ careful-like, because of what happened to you. It just doesn’t make sense.” MacAran was glad to see Sir Giles, to turn the reins of control over to a man he deemed truly his better, intelligent beyond all other men.

“Was the ground wet?” asked Sir Giles. They stood at the rim of the pit and looked down at the scarred track where the cart had borne down on Jimmy Bigod, deadly in its silence.

“Yes, sir. Wetter than it should have been. We haven’t had all that much rain for the past few days. But it weren’t any mudslide that caused this one. What’s troublin’ is that the bricks were gone, the ones we use to anchor the cart in place. The men who brought it up last clearly remember placin’ the bricks, and when we looked after the accident they weren’t nowhere to be found.”

“Couldn’t the men be lying to cover up their own negligence?” Giles asked. He could sooner believe that than deliberate subversion.

“Aye, sir, they could. But they’re a senior crew. Very sturdy and reliable, they are. And they was all so shocked by it. Nobody looked guilty-like, and Johnny even said he’d checked the bricks special because of what happened to you, and anyway, they was all sure the cart was much further from the rim than the tracks look like now.”