Pure Temptation (12 page)

“No, sir,” Jilly said in a trembling voice. “I saw Lady Moira
leave the house through the kitchen door, but I don’t know where she went or who the man was in the hackney.” Jilly’s single sentence told Jack everything he wanted to know. He looked away, his silver eyes glowing with menace.

“Man?” That thought sent rage pounding through him. “Moira met a man and went off with him in a hackney?”

“Aye.”

“Who?” Jack asked tersely.

“I don’t know, sir. It was dark. I didn’t get a good look at his face. If it helps any, I don’t think Lady Moira went willingly.”

Jack’s features took on the consistency of granite. “Did she leave the house of her own free will?”

Jilly swallowed convulsively. She’d never willingly do a thing to hurt her mistress. If only Sir Jack wasn’t so frightening. “I…I don’t know.”

Jack’s fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Thank you, Jilly. You may go back to bed now.”

“But, sir,” Jilly began timidly, “I don’t think Lady Moira would…”

“Go to bed, Jilly. I’ll handle things.”

Unprepared to test the full extent of Black Jack’s ire, Jilly turned and fled. She pitied poor Lady Moira and did not envy her the task of facing Black Jack’s formidable temper.

Jack returned to his chamber to await Moira’s return, his thoughts in a turmoil. Why had she sneaked off in the middle of the night, and with whom? Once again he had been lied to, and rage built inside him. Unfortunately, the long wait for Moira to return did little to improve his temper.

Two hours later, he heard the unmistakable sound of a hackney rattling down the street. Watching from the window, he saw it stop and discharge its female passenger. Moira had returned from her rendezvous, and his expression turned grim. The urge to do her bodily harm burned deeply within him as he heard Moira let herself into the house and creep
up the stairs. Two angry strides took him to his chamber door, but before he could throw it open to confront Moira, an apparition appeared before him, blocking his path.

“Bloody hell!” His violent outburst gave hint to his shattered patience. “I’ve no time for you now, milady. Moira is going to tell me who she was meeting or I’m going to wring her lovely neck. I was right about her all along. She’s nothing but a bed-hopping little tease. Once I took her virginity, she wanted to stretch her wings and try out new lovers. Damn it! I won’t stand for it, do you hear?”

Lady Amelia appeared disinclined to move. She seemed aware of Jack’s violent temper and wished to spare Moira the brunt of his anger.

“Go away! You’re nothing but a figment of my imagination,” Jack raged. “Don’t try to interfere. The little tart had an assignation with a man, and I’m going to find out who he was or else.”

Lady Amelia shook her head and stood firm.

“You’ve placed me in a hell of a fix, milady. My prospects for an advantageous marriage have flown out the window, and with it my reputation as a rake and womanizer. ’Tis your fault I no longer care to drink and gamble and chase women,” he accused sullenly. “ ’Tis your meddling that brought Moira into my home. I haven’t been the same since. Bedding the little Irish witch was a mistake. How could I know she was a virgin?”

Lady Amelia tilted her head, as if assessing every word Jack said.

“Don’t you understand?” Jack continued earnestly. “Moira needs money as much as I do. We do not suit. I know I should let her go, but damned if I can bring myself to part with her.” Lady Amelia nodded her head. “I know I have nothing to offer Moira, or she me. But I’ll be damned if I’ll let another man corrupt her.”

Lady Amelia placed a hand over her heart, as if trying to
convey a wordless message, but Jack was too incensed to figure it out. And he wasn’t inclined to let a meddling ghost stop him from confronting Moira. He knew he should wait until his temper cooled, but the thought of Moira with another man had robbed him of whatever good sense he possessed. He took a step forward, as if to push past the ghost, but Lady Amelia’s inner brilliance burst into a blazing halo of light, creating an intense heat that forced Jack to retreat.

“Bloody hell! What am I to do?” Lady Amelia merely stared at Jack, but her words were somehow projected into his brain.

Don’t hurt her.

“Do you really think I could hurt Moira? Even if I confronted her at the peak of my temper, I doubt I could bring myself to harm her.”

Obviously placated, Lady Amelia nodded and stepped aside, permitting Jack to leave. Jack didn’t have time to figure it out as he flung open the door and strode purposely toward Moira’s room.

Moira was still shaking when she’d entered her room. Had she killed Lord Roger? She doubted it. She had hit him solidly, but the blow had been blunted by the awkward angle, due to her prone position on the bed.

Moira undressed by the light of a single candle and climbed into bed in her shift, too tired to don her prim nightgown. Dawn was but a whisper away as she closed her eyes, searching for sleep. Her mind was consumed with Roger’s vile plans for her. She had escaped this time, but would she again? Would he leave her alone now or consider her knowledge of his activities too dangerous for him to ignore? Leaving London seemed prudent at this time, but finding money to buy passage to Ireland created a problem. She was still contemplating her alternatives when Jack burst into the room.

“Where in the hell have you been?” His voice was harsh, his face as hard and unyielding as stone, his arms crossed over his chest. Moira darted a quick glance at his implacable expression and realized by the dark, seething look on his face that he knew she had left the house. Thank God he didn’t know why or with whom she was meeting.

She could hardly bear to look at him. Imagining him participating in satanic rites with men like Lord Roger Mayhew made her visibly ill. “What are you doing home? I thought you and Lady Victoria…”

Jack stalked into the room and loomed over her. “You thought wrong. If you were itching to be bedded, why didn’t you come to me? Why another man, for God’s sake? Bloody hell, Moira, I don’t know what to make of you. You continue to confound and confuse me. Until we made love, you were an innocent. Did I create a wanton?”

Though Moira seethed inwardly, she remained stubbornly mute, which sent Jack’s temper soaring. “I thought I knew you, but I was wrong. You may have been a virgin when I took you, but you’re a whore at heart.”

“And I thought I knew you!” Moira shot back.

“Perhaps you wouldn’t be looking for another man to bed had I followed my instinct earlier tonight and made love to you. But if it’s a man you want, I’ll gladly oblige. As you well know, I’m not lacking in that department.”

Jack knew he was letting his anger rule his head, but he couldn’t help himself. It hurt too damn much to think of Moira with another man. He wanted to punish her, make her pay for denying him. He removed his jacket and tossed it aside, his shirt following.

“What are you doing?”

Jack sent her a look so dark and devouring that her skin suddenly felt too tight for her body. “I’m going to make love to you. If you can accommodate others, you can accommodate me.”

“Don’t touch me!” The breath froze in her throat when Jack peeled his trousers down his legs and removed them along with his shoes and stockings. His stern, implacable expression was anything but comforting. But it wasn’t his face she was looking at. Her eyes slid downward. He was fully erect, his body hard and unyielding, every muscle tense with seething desire.

He gave her a mocking smile that did not quite reach his eyes. She shivered and tried to look away, but couldn’t. “Is your lover better endowed than I?” His arrogance unleashed Moira’s Irish temper.

“You contemptible bastard! Think what you will, but I have no lover. You’re the only one. Had I known the kind of man you were and the vile things you were capable of, I would have left this house before you defiled me.”

“I don’t know what in the hell you’re talking about.” He had no idea she was referring to the Hellfire Club as he lowered himself to the bed and pulled her roughly against his pulsing body, too aroused to figure out the meaning behind Moira’s words. “Furthermore, I wouldn’t believe anything you said.”

Moira stiffened and tried to escape, but she was no match for his formidable strength as he pinned her to the bed. “Do you wish to explain?” His voice was deceptively calm, which should have warned her.

“No.”

Grasping the edges of her chemise, he rent it in half, baring the supple curves of her body. “Who was the man you were with tonight?” He fondled her breast, and shards of unwelcome heat shot downward from where his hand rested.

Her mouth clamped shut. She felt as if she didn’t know Jack anymore; had she known him at all?

“You’re a beautiful woman, Moira. Any man would want you.”

If Moira hadn’t been aware of Jack’s involvement with the
Hellfire Club, his words would have thrilled her. It rankled to think that she had worried about ruining Jack’s chances for a prosperous marriage when she should have been worrying about herself and his plans for her. Were both Jack and Lord Renfrew conspiring to place her at the mercy of the disciples of evil?

“I was with no one you know.”

“You expect me to believe that?” With startling insight, Jack realized that he wanted to be the only man in Moira’s life. For the first time in his life he bemoaned the fact that he wasn’t born into wealth. He cared nothing for a title, but wealth would make it possible to marry a woman of his choice instead of someone like Victoria. Victoria had expressed little desire to give him an heir and would doubtlessly cuckold him the moment the newness wore off their marriage. Nor could he promise faithfulness to a woman he didn’t love.

Love. Bloody hell! That exalted state had meant nothing to him in the past; why should he be contemplating it now? He gazed down at Moira, his body tense with longing. He wanted this stubborn little witch more than he’d ever wanted another woman. But he still couldn’t get past the fact that Moira had met someone in the dead of night. She had denied bedding another man, and he was inclined to believe her, but that still explained nothing. He sensed something deeper, something frightening in her denial. And what in the hell was she accusing him of?

“You’ve consistently lied to me, from the very beginning,” Jack charged. “Why can’t you tell the truth for once in your life?”

Moira shook with revulsion. “Why can’t you?”

“I’ve not lied to you. Why don’t you trust me?”

“I trust no man. Not after what I learned tonight. How could you?”

Jack saw the glimmer of tears in Moira’s golden eyes, and
all the anger left his body, replaced by the urgent need to soothe her, to make love to her until she forgot everything but their mutual pleasure. But her last remark puzzled him too much to let slide. “How could I
what?
You’re still talking in riddles.”

“I know!” Moira all but shouted. “I know you’re a member of the Hellfire Club.”

“What? Who told you such an outrageous lie?”

“Are you denying it?”

“Hell, yes, I’m denying it.”

She wanted to believe him. Sweet Virgin, she wanted to believe him, but she couldn’t. “I’m not the only liar in this room,” Moira bit out.

Shifting positions, he lifted her above him effortlessly. The muscles in his arms rippled with strength, the planes of his face sharpened with hunger. When her breasts were dangling above his face, he brought her down atop him so he could caress her nipples with his mouth and tongue. Panic seized her. She didn’t want this to happen. She fought against it. Then every nerve in her body caught fire and burst into flame.

After giving each breast tender attention, he caught her mouth in a soul-destroying kiss, his tongue teasing, probing, exploring the sweet depths. He kissed her until she grew dizzy, until she gasped for breath. Then, rolling, he pressed her to her back, seeking greater access. Grasping the torn remnants of her chemise, he pulled it away and tossed it aside, wanting no barriers between them.

“Who was the man you were with tonight?” he asked with quiet determination.

“Why do you care?”

Seizing her hand by the wrist, he pressed it against the rigid length of his shaft. “Feel how hard I am, Moira. Feel what you do to me. Believe me when I say I care.”

Moira’s fingers curled around him. He was stiff and hard
beneath her hand. Velvet-covered steel. Alive, swelling and pulsing with heat. Moira glanced up at him. In the flickering candlelight, his eyes were two silver pools, reflecting his ravening hunger. He looked feverish, as if his skin had been pulled too tightly over the sharp planes of his face. His nostrils flared with each breath he took, reminding her of a sexually aroused beast.

Jack groaned, closing his teeth around her nipple. Moira whimpered, the feeling so exquisite it lingered somewhere between ecstasy and pain. Her hand tightened around him in response.

“Sweet, sweet Jesus!” His voice was a harsh plea as tremors racked his body. He flung her hand away so violently she feared she had hurt him. “Damn it, I lose all control when I’m with you. You have no idea how close I am to spending. You were meant for pleasure, Moira, and I want to be the one to give it to you. I’m a jealous lover.”

He trailed damp warm kisses along her flat belly, his tongue ringing her navel and his hands sliding into the tangled curls that guarded her sex. Spreading the petals with his fingers, he eased two of them gently inside her. “Soft, so soft,” he murmured as he spread her legs wide and knelt between them. “So wet.” He kissed the insides of her thighs, his fingers still pressing inside her, continuing to tease and stroke her.

She arched upward, biting her lip to keep from crying out his name. All he could manage was an answering groan as he continued to spread more soft kisses upward along her thigh, until he found the tiny pink bud of her desire and settled his mouth over the inflamed fold of sensitive flesh.

“Jack! No! What are you doing? That’s wicked.”

“It’s not wicked,” Jack murmured against her flesh. “There are many ways to love a woman.” Then his tongue touched her there and the ability to speak left him. Her musky scent inflamed him, sending pure fire into his loins, making him
pulse and swell with unspent passion. He felt her small body bow upward, saw her face transfix with pleasure, and replaced his fingers with the wet thrust of his tongue.