Pure Temptation (13 page)

Moira screamed, clutching his shoulders in desperation. She was ablaze with need, aching and pulsing with every tortured breath. He heard her moan in her passion, felt her legs fall farther apart as he laved and tasted of her sweetness. He plundered her ruthlessly, his hands sliding beneath her, grasping her buttocks and forcing her to accept each bold stroke of his tongue. Her breathing came swift and ragged. She stiffened until he feared she would shatter. And then she did. He heard her small gasp, felt the tremors convulsing her body, and knew she had found pleasure.

Before she had fully recuperated from the incredible upward spiral, Jack eased upward between her legs. His hardness probed, found her entrance, then plunged deeply inside her.

Moira’s eyes flew open and she cried out at the incredible heat and hardness of him, at the velvet thickness of his shaft and the bunching of his muscles as he strained above her. Waves of raw rapture washed over her, scorching heat suffused her and she felt herself reaching for that high plateau of erotic sensation with every relentless thrust of his body. She was on fire with pleasure so potent it threatened to consume her.

Wrapping her arms and legs around him, she clung to him fiercely.

“Jack…” His name was a breathless sigh as she reached her peak, her body shaking with spiraling splendor. “Oh, Jack…” The feel of him driving inside her intensified her pleasure as she felt him jerk violently, felt the hot rush of his seed leave his body and fill her.

The last spasms had barely passed through her when the painful knowledge of Jack’s involvement with the Hellfire Club brought her abruptly to her senses. Tears formed at the
corners of her eyes and spilled in salty beads down her pale cheeks. He was cut from the same cloth as Roger Mayhew and Lord Fenwick. He had used her and she had let him. She tried to push Jack away, but he rolled to his side, pulling her against him. He felt moisture dampen his chest and reared back to look at her.

“Why are you crying?”

“I hate you.” Moira sobbed.

“You could have fooled me.”

“You steal my will and rob me of my senses.”

“Then we have something in common.” He’d bedded countless women, some whose names he couldn’t even recall, but never had making love been such a moving experience. With a flash of insight, he knew he could not let another man have Moira. Not now, not ever.

“Were you with Lord Renfrew tonight? You may as well tell me, for I’ll find out one way or another. What did he say to make you so angry with me?”

Moira sent him an oblique look. “I haven’t seen Lord Renfrew since he proposed. Are you aware that he is a member of the Hellfire Club?”

Jack recoiled in alarm. “Who in the hell told you that? The men wear robes and hoods in order to keep their identities secret from one another. Did someone try to talk you into attending their rites tonight?”

“I’d never agree to anything like that! Not even Lord Roger…” Suddenly realizing what she’d said, Moira clamped a hand over her mouth.

Fear and revulsion shuddered through Jack. “You were with Roger Mayhew tonight? Are you insane? Didn’t you heed my warning?”

“I agreed to meeting him for your sake, but when he told me about your involvement in the Hellfire Club, I realized what a bloody fool I’d been.”

He grasped her shoulders, giving her a violent shake. “For
my
sake! What in the hell are you talking about? I know for a fact that Mayhew is a member of the club, but I certainly am not.” His eyes blazed with implacable fury. “I think I’m beginning to understand. You knew Roger Mayhew before we met, didn’t you? He was your employer’s son, wasn’t he? The one who fancied you. What did he say to talk you into meeting him tonight?”

Moira stared at him, realizing that he was too close to the truth for comfort. Yet she couldn’t tell him about the theft. If he was a member of the Hellfire Club, he had no scruples. As desperately as he needed money, he’d probably turn her in for the reward.

“I owe you no explanation. I loathe him as much as I loathe you. I told you I didn’t bed him, and that’s all I’ll say.”

“We’re at an impasse. Neither of us trusts the other. All we have is this.” He grasped her hips and positioned her beneath him, his voice as grainy and rough-edged as his passion. Jack knew this insatiable wanting was madness but couldn’t help himself. Savage tension coiled inside him as he plunged inside her and began to move, the thunder of his heartbeat escalating to match the tempo of his thrusting body.

The gripping passion of feeling her tightness surround him took over, making him oblivious to everything but the joining of their bodies, the primitive need to press himself inside her as deeply as possible. Anger leeched from him like an ebbing tide as he thrust faster, his hips grinding against hers until her body went taut and she climaxed. He gave a gritty cry, buried himself to the hilt and gave up his seed.

When she opened her eyes, Jack was staring at her strangely. The molten silver of his eyes pierced through to her innermost soul. His fiercely possessive expression sent shards of panic racing through her. She knew he’d not rest until he had the truth from her about her association with Lord Roger and resigned herself to telling it.

“Damn it, Moira, enough of your lies! I won’t be played for a fool. I’m not leaving this room until you tell me what’s going on.”

Moira fixed her gaze on the pinkening sky outside the window. Dawn was but a dim memory as streaks of daylight lightened the eastern sky. How could her life turn into such a disaster? she wondered bleakly. All she could do now was tell the truth and pray Jack believed her. If he had a shred of decency, he’d realize she wasn’t capable of deceit. She’d opened her mouth to unburden her soul when fate intervened in the form of Pettibone.

“Sir Jack! Are you in there? Wake up, sir. A messenger has arrived all the way from Cornwall. He’s ridden without respite to bring you news. ’Tis most urgent, sir.”

“This better be good, Pettibone,” Jack said, throwing back the covers and reaching for his trousers. “Show the man into the study. I’ll be with him directly.”

“Sweet Virgin, he knows you’re in here with me,” Moira wailed unhappily. “What must he think of me?”

“There isn’t much going on in this house that Pettibone isn’t aware of,” Jack said dryly. “Don’t worry, he’s the soul of discretion and completely faithful. I’m sorry our talk was interrupted, but this doesn’t let you off the hook. When I return, we will begin where we left off.”

Looking as presentable as he’d ever looked at such an ungodly early hour, Jack let himself out the door and into the hallway, where Pettibone stood waiting. “You say the messenger is from Cornwall?” Jack asked as Pettibone trailed after him down the stairs.

“Aye, that’s what he said. But I could get little else out of the man.”

“My cousin Ailesbury is in Cornwall. Perhaps he wishes me to attend his wedding, though ’tis rather late to summon me. I hope naught is amiss with Will.”

By the time he reached the bottom landing, Jack felt vague stirrings of misgiving. He’d had premonitions at various times during his life, but nothing as strong as the vibrations he was receiving now. With trepidation, he opened the door and stepped into the study. Pettibone followed close on his heels.

The messenger jumped to his feet, and Jack could see
deep lines of fatigue etched around his eyes and mouth. The man looked ready to drop from exhaustion, and Jack realized only something of grave importance could drive a man to ride without respite.

“Sit down before you fall,” Jack said, motioning the man back into the chair he’d just vacated. “My man said you had a message for me.” He held out his hand. The messenger dug in his pocket and pulled out a sealed envelope, which he placed in Jack’s open palm. Jack stared at it, his premonition so strong he wanted to fling the message into the fire without looking at it.

“Take the man to the kitchen, Pettibone. He must be starved. Then show him to a room where he can rest.”

The moment Pettibone and the messenger left, Jack broke the seal on the envelope, removed the single sheet of parchment and quickly read the message. When he reached the end, the paper dropped from his fingers and fluttered unheeded to the floor. He turned to stare out the window, oblivious to the glorious sunrise coloring the eastern sky.

With sudden insight, Jack realized he wasn’t alone. Turning slowly, he encountered Lady Amelia. He showed no surprise, just numb acceptance. “Did you know this would happen, milady?” Jack couldn’t be certain, but he thought he saw Lady Amelia shake her head. “You know I never wished for this. It was the last thing I wanted or expected.” Lady Amelia bowed her head in commiseration.

Pettibone chose that precise moment to return. He stared in awe at the ethereal figure clothed in flowing white. He exhaled sharply, unable to believe his eyes when the apparition slowly faded away. To Pettibone’s credit, he was too disciplined to mention the fact that the family ghost had visited one of the most dissolute Graystokes of all time. Pettibone thought it all quite extraordinary and happily accepted the fact that Black Jack was marked for redemption. Then he spied the letter lying at Jack’s feet and bent to pick it up.

“Is aught amiss, Sir Jack? I could get little out of the messenger except that he was the bearer of sad tidings.”

Jack turned to face Pettibone, and the servant was struck by the deep lines of grief etched upon his employer’s handsome face. “It couldn’t be worse, Pettibone. Ailesbury is dead. Killed on the way to his wedding. His coach was caught in a violent rainstorm. The high cliff road he was traveling gave way beneath the wheels of his vehicle, and it plunged down an embankment. Will was killed instantly.”

Jack buried his face in his hands, trying to gain his composure. When he finally looked up, Pettibone was shocked to see tears in his employer’s eyes. “It doesn’t make sense, Pettibone. Will was a good man. He had a full life ahead of him. He was going to marry the woman he loved and produce heirs for the dukedom. I am the reprobate. Why couldn’t it have been me?”

Pettibone had not seen Jack so overcome with grief since he’d lost his parents. “You must accept young Ailesbury’s death as the will of God. Will you go to Cornwall?”

“Aye, I leave immediately to escort the body back to Dorset for proper burial. News of Ailesbury’s death has been sent to his lawyer and to the king. I expect to hear from the lawyer shortly. Will you see to my packing, Pettibone?”

“Aye, milord.”

Jack gave him a startled look. Milord. He never wanted the title, never aspired to Will’s position as Duke of Ailesbury, but now, by the hand of fate, it was his. Somehow it didn’t seem right. It was an awesome burden, but he was duty bound to accept the responsibility. Duty. He’d given little thought to duty during his twenty-seven years. He didn’t wear duty and responsibility well. Already he could feel it weighing heavily upon his shoulders. Had he been groomed for the dukedom, it would have been different, but having to assume it under tragic circumstances left him with feelings of inadequacy.

“It’s going to be difficult to accustom myself to a title when I’ve always held nobility in scorn,” Jack told Pettibone.

“You will manage, milord,” Pettibone said bracingly.

“I hope so. In my absence, you are to hire any servants you deem necessary to run Graystoke Manor properly. You’ve managed on your own long enough. I’m counting on you to look after Moira in my absence.”

“You can trust me, milord,” Pettibone said as he left to do Jack’s bidding.

Jack paused, lost in thought. Moira. He hadn’t considered what this would mean to their relationship. Not only would the title pass to him, but the entire bulk of Ailesbury’s estate. There were numerous holdings, including valuable property and all the monies for rents on those estates. Not to mention the thousands of pounds in various banks and lucrative investments in shipping, mining and farming. Now they were all his. No longer did he have to marry money. He had all he needed and more. Enough to give Moira funds to help her family and protect her from whatever or whoever threatened her.

They had said things in anger last night that shouldn’t have been said. He couldn’t bear the thought of Moira meeting another man, and she had accused him of something vile. Unfortunately, there was no time now to clear up the misunderstanding or solve the mystery concerning her association with Mayhew.

Moira was already up and dressed when Jack returned to the bedchamber. She had worked herself into a fine rage, still incensed about his affiliation with the Hellfire Club, but one look at his face told her it was neither the time nor the place to confront him.

“Jack, what is it? Did the messenger bear bad tidings?”

“The worst,” Jack said, crossing to where she stood and taking her into his arms. She stiffened but did not pull away.
“’Tis Will. He’s dead. He was the only relative I had left in the world.”

Compassion melted her anger. “Oh, Jack, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m leaving immediately to escort Will’s body to Dorset for burial. I won’t be long. Two weeks at the most. Pettibone is packing for me now, and I expect Ailesbury’s lawyer shortly.”

“I know you were fond of your cousin.”

“It was more than fondness. We respected one another. I want your promise that you will remain at Graystoke Manor until I return. I still don’t know what’s going on between you and Mayhew, or what makes you so ready to believe his lies about me, but we will resolve everything when I return. I don’t want you leaving the house while I’m gone. Pettibone will see to your needs.”

“Not leave the house?”

“That’s right. I wouldn’t ask it if I didn’t think it was necessary. Mayhew is dangerous; Lord knows what he’s planning. I’ll take care of it when I return.”

He didn’t wait for a reply as he pulled her tightly against him, seeking her mouth with almost frantic desperation. He kissed her hard, almost hurtfully, leaving Moira dazed and shaken. A moment later he pushed her away and murmured, “Don’t think about leaving, sweetheart. I’ll find you no matter where you go. We have some unfinished business to discuss.” He kissed her again, hard. Moira closed her eyes to escape his piercing silver gaze. When she opened them, he was gone.

The house seemed empty without Jack. The day after he left, Lord Renfrew called, demanding an answer to his marriage proposal. Moira felt little regret at turning him down. After learning that he was a member of the Hellfire Club, she could barely stand the sight of him.

“You’re turning me down?” Renfrew said, stunned. “You won’t get a better offer.”

“I’m sorry, milord. I’m not in love with you,” Moira demurred.

“Love is a state of mind. You can will yourself to love me if you try.”

“I’m sorry.”

Upon hearing her last word on the subject, Renfrew flew into a rage. “You little tease! Aren’t I rich enough for you? You’ve led me on for weeks, making me believe you’d accept my proposal. I’ve heard rumors about you and Black Jack but was generous enough to ignore them. You’re his mistress, aren’t you? Now that he’s a duke, you don’t
really
think he’ll marry you, do you? Black Jack isn’t the marrying kind.” He eyed her narrowly. “Lord Mayhew said you’re not even a lady. He said you and Black Jack hoodwinked us all. Is that true?”

“If you believe that, why did you come here expecting me to accept your proposal?” Moira charged.

“Do you actually believe I wish to saddle myself with a wife? What an innocent you are. My parents are breathing down my neck to marry and produce an heir. I needed to find someone who knew nothing about me or my…er…escapades. Then you came along. But if Mayhew is correct about your common background, you’ll no longer do. My parents are sticklers about bloodlines.” He leered at her. “That doesn’t mean I can’t bed you. You must be a damn hot little piece to satisfy a man like Black Jack. Perhaps I’ll get the opportunity to try you one day soon.”

Moira recoiled in revulsion. How could she have believed this man cared for her? Were all men vile and corrupt? How could she have been so misled? She knew intuitively that Lord Mayhew hadn’t lied about Lord Fenwick’s affiliation with the Hellfire Club. And if he had been right about Lord Fenwick, he had in all likelihood been telling the truth about Jack. All three blackguards were disciples of the Devil.

“I’ll escort you to the door, Lord Renfrew.” Pettibone appeared like magic at Moira’s side, his stern countenance enough to put fear into the stoutest hearts. And Renfrew wasn’t the bravest of men. “You
were
leaving, weren’t you?”

Renfrew blasted Pettibone with a withering glance, then turned abruptly on his heel. “My business here is finished. Give Ailesbury my regards when he returns from Cornwall. A rare stroke of luck, him inheriting the dukedom, what?”

Moira was still shaking when Pettibone returned a few minutes later to announce Lord Spence. Spence rushed into the room, clearly distraught. “The jig’s up, Moira. Lud, what I wouldn’t give to have Black Jack here now.”

“Whatever are you talking about, milord?”

“We’ve been undone. ’Tis all over London that you and Jack made fools of the gentry. Lady Victoria is furious, and she isn’t the only one.”

“Who told them?” Moira knew the answer; Spence could only confirm it.

“Lord Mayhew. The bastard is telling anyone who will listen that you were a maidservant in his house, and that you seduced him and then talked Jack into passing you off as a lady.”

“Be grateful that Lord Mayhew doesn’t know you’re involved. Do you think the gossip will hurt Jack?”

“It might. He’s titled now. He has to maintain a certain standard. Is there anything I can do? I fear you’re the one who will suffer most for our misguided plan.”

That’s not the half of it, Moira thought but did not say. Lord Mayhew must be furious with her for bashing him. She feared she hadn’t heard the last from him. There was only one thing to do now, and that was flee for her life.

“Thank you for your concern, Lord Spencer.”

“Lud, Moira, I feel rotten about this. It was my idea to pass you off as a lady. Why didn’t you tell us that Mayhew could identify you?”

“It’s a long story, milord. Lord Mayhew was abroad. I didn’t think he’d return anytime soon. Besides, I didn’t have many options.”

“Thank God, Jack will return soon. He’ll put a stop to this gossip and set things right. Well, I must be off. If you need me, don’t hesitate to send word around.”

Moira saw Spence to the door and returned to her room. Jilly was waiting for her. “Pettibone is hiring new servants, milady. Will I be sent back to the Fenwicks? I’d rather stay here with you.”

“I’m sure something can be worked out, Jilly. I’m perfectly satisfied with you, but I may not be here much longer. Speak to Pettibone; he’ll take care of everything.”

Jilly beamed from ear to ear. “Thank you, milady. I’m ever so grateful. I’d hate to go back to scrubbing pots.” Suddenly her smile wavered. “Are you going somewhere, milady?”

“I’m not sure,” Moira said uncertainly. She hadn’t the slightest idea what the future held for her, but she felt herself being squeezed between two evils: Lord Mayhew on one side and Jack on the other. Lord Mayhew wanted her to participate in unholy orgies, and for all she knew so did Jack. Were there no honorable men in this world, except for her brother? Even her poor grandmother, who had been abandoned by a lover of noble birth, learned the hard way that men couldn’t be trusted.

Moira had just packed two of her most durable dresses, appropriate underwear and personal belongings in a large carpetbag she found in the attic when Pettibone appeared at her door, wringing his hands and clearly distraught.

“What is it, Mr. Pettibone? Has something happened? It isn’t Jack, is it? He’s all right, isn’t he?” She didn’t know why she should worry about Jack. Men like him always landed on their feet.

“I haven’t heard from His Lordship, milady, but Lord Mayhew is downstairs demanding to see you. I fear there may be trouble. He’s brought two constables with him.” For the first time since she’d known him, the unflappable Pettibone seemed to unravel.