In the Devil's Bed (Sins of the Duke Book 1) (14 page)

Jack moved his mouth to her neck. His lips lingered over her pulse. Regan grabbed at his shoulders, gasping his name.

Every breath Regan drew pressed her closer to him. She’d never understood how such strength could be so appealing. But right now, with his broad hands pressing into her back, his body surrounding hers, and that hard ridge rubbing against her, separated from her only by a few layers of clothes, she understood. And she wanted him. All of him.

Each kiss moved Jack’s mouth further down her neck till he met the silk of her neckline. She wanted the fabric to disappear. Wanted him to continue kissing her, because all her life she had done things for others. And right now, she wanted this moment for herself.

***

J
ack inhaled and the scent of lavender teased him. Kissing the base of her neck, he opened his mouth and tasted her skin with the tip of his tongue. The softness of it moved beneath him like slightly roughened silk.

The more he tasted the more he wanted. The fabric of her gown brushed against his fingertips. Her pale skin disappeared beneath her frock. Taunting himself and teasing her, he ran his fingers along the lacy edge of the neckline.

Regan’s chest lifted in short, sharp breaths and her fingers dug through his coat into his muscle.

She wanted him— Or at least her body did.

And that was more than enough. Because he wanted her more than anything he’d ever wanted in his life. Jack ran his hand over the smooth bodice of her gown. Running his finger over her nipple, he brought his mouth to hers. She met his kiss and ran her tongue along the line of his lip as he had done earlier. “Evil wench,” he whispered against her mouth. Then he gently sucked her tongue into his mouth and he circled a thumb over her nipple.

Need pulsed down the length of him, hardening his cock nestled between her thighs. Exactly where it belonged. Well,
not exactly.
Jack lifted his hips up off the seat and ground his hard erection against her center. A moan escaped her lips and she dug her fingers deeper into his coat.

It didn’t matter that she was Chance’s granddaughter. Nothing mattered except her and her body beneath his. He wanted to brand her with his flesh. Make her want him so much, she’d never want another man.

He pushed the scooped neckline of her frock down. Her breasts lifted free of the material. Regan’s body tensed against his. Gently, he stroked her back and lifted his mouth from hers to better see her.

In the faint light, her breasts shone pale, like the finest ivory. The pink of her nipples were the dusky color of a hopeful sunrise.

He was hard and wanted to slip his hand beneath her skirts and stroke the center of her wet heat, but first. . . First he was going to taste her. He lowered his mouth and the warm softness of her breast brushed against his lips as he gently circled her nipple with his tongue.

“J-ack?” Her voice rose with pleasure.

Satisfaction at her desire flared inside him, heating his own need. He flicked his tongue over the tip of her nipple and made her arch against him. He gathered a handful of her skirts in his hand and slid the fabric further up her thighs. Slowly, he ran his fingers inside the black folds, grazing over her silk stocking.

In a moment, he was going to stroke her between her legs and drive her wild with need. Jack drew in a ragged breath as he traced his fingers over the edge of her stockings, meeting the soft skin of her inner thigh.

“Captain Hazard!” someone yelled.

Jack’s hand froze on her leg and he blinked, trying to regain the ability to think. “What?”

“We have passed the gates, Captain. We should arrive within ten minutes, sir,” yelled Brent from the coach box.

Regan tensed against him, her hands tightening on his shoulders.

Jack drew in a long breath. Slowly, he slipped his hand from beneath her skirts. A wry smile tilted his lips as he smoothed Regan’s bodice into place.

The white flesh, pinkened from his kisses, disappeared beneath the black gown. Lifting his hand, Jack caressed the side of her face and stroked his thumb along her chin. He didn’t want to let her go.

“Oh God—“ She pushed lightly against his shoulders and scrambled back to the opposite bench. “I—“ She lifted a shaking hand to her dazed face. “You. I. . . We. Oh Lord.”

Jack smiled at her reassuringly, even though his body was still strung tight with need. “Regan, it will be all right. You did nothing to regret.”

At least, he bloody hoped not.

She nodded curtly as she brushed her hands over her hair.

Bloody hell, but he could still feel her thigh warm on his hand.

The folds of her skirts whooshed as she smoothed them.

“Do you need ‘elp?” Hell,
he
needed help. He was as hard as his rifle barrel and no sign of release in sight.

“Y—your accent?” Her lips curled in a smile and her red hair bounced against her cheeks as she yanked at her bodice.

“Sometimes. . . Rarely. . . I accidentally speak how I was born to.” He hated it when he slipped. The last thing he wanted Regan to think was that he was low.

Jack grabbed her bonnet from the small shelf above her seat. “Here. If you keep the veil down for the first minutes at the house, no one will know you’ve been sporting in the carriage.”

Her cheeks darkened but she nodded. The veil swung with the motion of the carriage as she put it on her head. With the veil, her features were vague shadows.

“Jack, I like your accent,” she whispered.

She liked it?
Jack swallowed. No one had ever told him that. That they liked something about him, just the way he truly was. But before he could answer, the carriage rolled to a stop. Footsteps crunched on the gravel. The carriage door swung open.

Jack jumped down out of the carriage, needing to check for himself that all was clear. He looked right to left, spotting only the footman and several servants on the stairs, candelabras weighing down their hands.

Reaching back into the carriage, he offered Regan his hand. She stared at him for a moment, then she took his hand and, with a swish of black skirts, she stepped down out of the carriage.

Jack let her go and dropped his eyelids half closed as he took in a slow breath. He was about to enter one of the most conservative Whig houses in all of Britain. He would need control. Otherwise he might eviscerate one of the duke’s closest friends, Lord Wells.

The gravel crunched as he stepped towards the massive stone steps that led to the mansion. Five hundred years of affluence and wealth through tyranny stared back at him in the towering façade of Wellhurst House. But Jack— Well, he had a façade of his own.

Chapter 19

“My dear Lady Regan, I’ve decided to place you in the east wing.” Lady Wells glanced back over her shoulder as she led them down the wide tapestried corridor of the second floor. Her pale green eyes glittered and her thin-lipped mouth spread in a sly smile. “I was unsure as to where to put Captain Hazard. He is a very important man, being your
guard
and all.”

Surely it had been long enough for any sign that he had kissed her so wildly to disappear. Forcing a smile to her lips, Regan lifted her veil. Swallowing, Regan stopped herself from glancing back at Jack. He was mere steps behind her, his energy filling the hallway.

The fact that Lady Wells was personally escorting them to their rooms was not good. She was a vicious gossip and clearly saw them as a juicy tidbit. “What exactly did you have in mind, Lady Wells?”

The light from her candelabra flickered around them and sparkled off the tall, night-darkened windows to their right. The light danced over the mint green of Lady Wells’ evening frock and the large tapestries that lauded ancestral exploits draping the walls.

Lady Wells glanced at Jack as she walked. Her eyes slid over his face, then down to his chest. Then lower. Her eyes flared. Her lips tilted up in a wicked smile.

Regan’s hands tightened into fists. How dare she look at Jack like he was prime flesh to be bought and sampled at market? The urge to grab Lady Wells’ head and jerk it in some other direction was very appealing.

“Lady Regan, your room is there.” Lady Wells stopped and gestured to a closed oak door with her slender hand. “Now, I had reserved a place for Captain Hazard in the servant’s quarters, but somehow that did not seem fitting.” Her voice practically purred, “He is, after all, a very powerful man.”

The servant’s quarters, indeed. Regan stepped to the side so she could look at Jack. A smile, cold and knowing, tilted his lips. Something was happening, an undercurrent in the conversation, that she was missing.

Jack inclined his head. “How kind of you to think of my comfort and Lady Regan’s safety.”

“Hmm. Yes.” Lady Wells dragged her eyes from Jack to Regan. “Indeed, that is my foremost concern. I thought a room next to Lady Regan would suit your. . .
comfort
best.”

Regan’s cheeks burned.
Now
she understood. The woman thought that she and Jack were lovers! Regan blanched. Lady Wells was not that far off in her assertions. Sylvia’s words rang in her head.
Even scandal comes to good, little nuns.

“As you are her guard, it would hardly be practical for you to sleep far away from our lovely Lady Regan. Would it?”

“How wise you are.” Jack’s deep silky voice slid through the air like a caress. Lady Wells laughed. A full, throaty sound meant to entice and tease.

Regan’s own throat tightened. What in heaven’s name was he doing? Jack was making it sound as if they
were
having an affair. Oh dear Lord. Did he think they were going to? Considering she’d let him put his hand under her skirts. It would be a logical conclusion.

Jack’s lover
. The hall suddenly seemed overly warm. Regan swallowed. If he slept in the room beside hers at a country house party, everyone could possibly assume that they were sharing a bed. Something Geoffrey had warned against.

But she was not Jack’s lover. The
ton
could think what they liked. But as long as no one
saw
anything, they would
say
nothing.

“The servants will unpack your belongings. A late supper will be served in an hour.” Lady Wells raked Jack with her gaze once more, then turned away. She stopped. “Oh, and Lady Regan? I was so sorry to hear your aunt was too ill to travel with you two. I understand Lord Stanhope collected her late this afternoon from Whiting and she will arrive sometime this eve.”

“Thank you.” Regan’s voice sounded flat to her own ears. Sylvia’s well-meaning machinations were going to get them all in very serious trouble.

Lady Wells’ footsteps faded down the hall. Regan turned on her heel and hurried into her room. A fire crackled in the fireplace on the far wall, lighting the large cream-colored room in gold tones.

The jade-colored bed hangings glimmered. Regan walked towards the bed, suddenly wishing to bang her head against a wall. How had things become so complicated?

“Regan, let me check your room.”

Regan whirled around, her heart thudding in her chest. It would not be wise to be irrational with a man like Jack, but he needed to understand that she could not allow anything to hurt her reputation and as a result, her father’s work.

“You cannot be in here with me alone,” she hissed.

Jack stepped through the door and shut it halfway. “I’m your guard.”

Regan blew out a sharp breath. “A guard who just let Lady Wells think we were lovers.”

He crooked an eyebrow, his sensual lips pressing into a line. “Did I? I apologize for that.”

Regan stared at him. If only he were a different sort of man. One that her father would have approved of. Everything would have been so different.

No. It would not.

A tight vise of pain squeezed her chest. As much as his dark eyes tempted her, she could not involve herself with him. It would ruin her cause and everything that she and her father had worked for.

“I am not your lover,” she whispered, fearing someone might walk through the hall.

He stepped closer to her, his black eyes resting on her lips. “No. Not yet.”

Regan’s mouth dried and she grabbed hold of the bedpost. “Not yet?”

He took a step further into the room, his footstep softened by the thick red and blue Oriental rug. “Yes.”

“Absolutely not.”

He stopped for a moment, his eyes roving over her face. “Why?”

The fire crackled and popped, filling the silence between them. “Because we are too different.” Regan took a deep breath. “Because I have things that I must do. And you are not a part of those plans.”

The warmth in his black eyes faded. “Except as a guard?”

She nodded. “Except as my guard. I cannot allow anyone to damage my work. Not even myself.” How could she explain to him how much she loved and missed her father? His work was the one thing that made his death bearable.

The black of his eyes hardened into obsidian. “Ah. And I would
damage
it, wouldn’t I?” His voice cut across the room. Curt understanding glimmered in his eyes. He cocked his head to the side and his lips curled into a sly smile.

“We could be discreet.” His eyes fixed on her face as he slowly crossed the room.

Unable to look away from his commanding gaze, Regan tried to shove the sensation of excitement out of body. But she could not. It was flowing through her, drugging her muscles and heating her belly.

He stepped closer until the mere inches separating them heated. And even though he was not touching her, her skin felt alive. As it had when he’d touched her in the carriage.

Regan backed into the bedpost. She needed to be free of whatever mindless thing made her want him. Without rational thought. “I have never done anything
discreetly
in my life. I will not start now.”

A dry bark of laughter rumbled from Jack’s throat. “Oh, but you are
discreet
, my lady. You hide yourself from the world.”

The muscles in Regan’s back tensed as anger rippled through her. “You don’t know me at all to say such a thing.”

Jack closed the distance between, leaving only a finger’s distance between their bodies. The fabric of his coat brushed against her breasts, hardening her nipples. His warm breath blew softly against her face. “I know you better than you I think do.”