The Highwayman (Rakes and Rogues of the Restoration Book 3) (24 page)

Jack watched her with amusement, unable to decide if she were trying to convince him or herself.

Clutching a bag of garments she had brought for just this purpose, Arabella stepped into a little wooden changing house, and emerged several moments later swathed from head to toe in a shapeless linen smock. Jack, watching from his perch on a boulder munching on some cheese, gave her a wink and an encouraging nod. She stepped to the edge of the pavement and held on to the bar, and then she put her foot in. Her entire body stiffened and she swallowed a scream as a frigid shock of pain seized her by the foot and ankle. She kept her foot where it was by force of will, knowing Jack was watching, but she didn’t know how she could take another step.

A murmur of voices made her look behind her as a trio of linen clad nuns approached. They hurried by her and into the water, calmly kneeling to pray in the middle, so they were covered chin deep. Not to be outdone Arabella plunged in after them. Her breath stopped, her pores closed, and her linen smock, tugged by the stream, began to rise up to her thighs and pull at her waist. Every nerve in her body shrieked for her to leap from the water, but instead she took a tight hold of her smock and submersed to her shoulders, terrified her thundering heart would explode. Honor served, the battle won, she sprang to her feet greatly invigorated, and emerged dripping from the water, triumphant and proud.

~

Take note, lad. That is a determined woman.
Jack’s amusement changed to something else when she turned to face him and his ready quip died frozen on his tongue. She looked like Aphrodite, just stepped from the sea. His body sprang to attention and his breath grew ragged. The once shapeless linen shift clung to her body, accentuating every line and curve, tightening around a supple waist and sweetly dimpled belly, hugging full, taut, perfectly rounded breasts tipped by rigid straining nipples and revealing long sinuous legs and the dark thatch that lay between them.

“Jack? What’s wrong?” Her confident step slowed and stopped and her wide smile faltered. She looked at him bewildered, but when her eyes followed to where his gaze still lingered she gasped in horror. Her body turned from cold and pale, to heated and bright crimson as she covered herself with her hands and turned away. She pulled frantically at the dripping cloth to stop it clinging to her body and in the process she bumped into the nuns who were just exiting in a similar state––apparently unperturbed.

“Help me! Before somebody else comes,” she hissed at Jack, who was uncharacteristically slow to come to her rescue.

“Oh! Right. Yes.” He tore his gaze from her pert bottom and sprang to his feet, then walked over to wrap her in his coat. “You are shivering.”

“I am freezing! And I am so embarrassed! Why don’t they warn people? Why have it out in the open like this where anyone strolling by can see? There should be screens or a covered walkway. ”

He gathered her in his arms and pulled her close against him. “There was no one to see you but me, love…and the nuns, but they were in the same state as you.” He rubbed her arms and shoulders to warm her, and she sank gratefully into his heat. There was a hitch in her breath when she felt him pressed hard against her bottom, but she didn’t pull away.

“They didn’t seem to mind,” she said. “The nuns I mean. They are walking back through the village in their wet clothes for all the world to see.”

“They are clothed in piety,” he chuckled against the back of her neck. He turned her around so she faced him, brushed her wet hair back over her collar, and pulled the coat closed.

“And me?”

“You, Arabella Hamilton, are glorious.” He walked her back a few steps to the lee of the wooden change house, and pinned her body hard against the wall with his own. “You melt my heart and steal my breath and I want to warm your body with my own. When you stepped from the water and turned your magnificent eyes my way, my limbs went weak. It is an image I shall carry to my death.”

He plunged his hands in her hair, cupping her head and seeking her lips, pulling her to him and thrusting his tongue in her mouth in a rough demanding kiss. She stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing against his length as she answered him in kind. She felt glorious. She felt wild and powerful and it grew more intoxicating every time he took her in his arms. When she arched against him he growled, seizing her hips and grinding against her, his arousal hard against her stomach. She felt the same exquisite urgency she had felt the night before.

She smoothed her hands over his shoulders and down his arms, feeling the play of muscle beneath his shirt, the heat radiating from his skin. He sighed against her lips, gentling his kiss, his tongue stroking hers her in an unhurried exploration. She lost track of who she was and where she was, so that all there was in the world was his warm body pressing against hers, and his intoxicating kiss.

Feeling daring, she slid her hands along his ribs to rest them lightly on his waist. His low groan encouraged her and she let her fingers trail across his hard abdomen. She could feel him swell against her and she gasped. As if of their own volition her fingers closed around him and she felt him throbbing hot and heavy through his breeches as he strained against her hand.

He cursed beneath his breath. Holding her tight against the wall with one arm,
he grabbed at her skirt, bunching it and yanking it up toward her waist, baring her legs.

For one brief moment Arabella felt a thrill of excitement as wild and dangerous as the one that had gripped her on her first mad ride with him, but the feel of cool air against naked skin returned her quickly to her senses. “Jack, no! What if somebody comes?”

Merde!
He stopped suddenly, taking a ragged breath before releasing her skirt and letting her go. He smacked the wall once with his fist, and then without a word he stalked away, throwing down his weapons, peeling off his shirt, his hat, his boots and then his breeches.

Arabella stared after him wide-eyed. Though he was broad shouldered and tall, he moved with fluid power, his body lithe and sleek with corded sinew. His buttocks were firm, his abdomen hard and flat and ridged with muscle, and a very big and heavy looking erection jutted from between his legs.

He is completely naked! And not a quarter mile from town.
He plunged into the frigid water without a word, and belatedly she covered her eyes. A moment later she remembered how to breathe, and then how to think, though her mind was all a jumble.
What is wrong with me, staring at naked men? Dear lord but he is beautiful. I wonder where he got those scars? He was so big! They say it can be painful. If—

A tap on her shoulder made her jump. “You can look now,” he said sardonically as he pulled on his boots.

“Have I upset you, Jack?” She was blushing furiously and couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“No, sweetheart.”

“Then why did you curse in French and walk away?”

He gave his boot a final tug and looked up at her from under the brim of his hat. “Because it’s not polite to swear in front of a lady.”

“But I speak French very well.”

“That is not important. It is the sentiment that counts.”

“Should I not have—”

“Bella!” He chuckled and took her by the waist, drawing her close for a quick kiss. “There is a public ball in York, the day after tomorrow. Would you do me the honor of accompanying me?”

‘And here the Musick wellcom'd us into Yorkshire’

Arabella turned from left to right, examining herself doubtfully in the mirror. Her hair curled over her temples and fell in masses of ringlets to her shoulders. She was wearing an emerald-green silk, fastened with jet-and-gold clasps over a soft chemise with voluminous sleeves caught at the elbow by ribbons. It was the same dress she had wanted to show Jack in London. The dress the ever-prescient Caroline had insisted on bringing ‘just in case,’ but the long-waisted bodice was cinched so tight her breasts fretted and swelled against its confines, making her look and feel unaccustomedly voluptuous.

“Are you certain this is how it is meant to be worn, Caroline? It seems almost indecent.”

“
Almost
indecent is exactly how it is meant to be worn, my lady.”

“But we are not in London now. Isn’t it rather…inappropriate?”

“Begging your pardon, my lady, but you are going to a dance with Swift Nick. Would you rather be appropriate…or irresistible?”

~

Arabella saw Jack waiting at the bottom of the stairs. He was leaning against the wall with his arms folded and his head tilted down, almost as though he were asleep. He was dressed as fine as any London gentleman. Tonight he was clean-shaven and his hair hung loose about his shoulders. She stopped with her hand on the railing, taking a deep breath to clear her mind of a sudden image of his taut buttocks and naked back. This man had the power to fire her blood with nothing but a look. He had once accused her of hiding in cloaks and scarves. Well, she wasn’t hiding anymore.

Feeling her eyes upon him, Jack looked up, and then slowly straightened and dropped his arms to his sides. This was the woman who visited him in his dreams. Ripe, lush, a wanton innocent with pouting lips and bright alluring eyes. His cock swelled and his heart missed a beat. It had long baffled him that he saw a beauty in her no one else seemed to notice. Now he didn’t want them to. He stepped forward, spellbound, and bowed to kiss her hand. “
Jesu
, Bella.” His voice was hoarse. “You bring me to my knees.”

Relieved and delighted by his reaction, Arabella held out her arm and gave him a warm smile. “Shall we dance, Mr. Nicks?”

~

Arabella had been to soirees and card parties in London during her brief reign as someone interesting, but she had never been to a dance or ball. She
had
taken lessons from a dance master as a girl, but her invitation to Jack had less to do with confidence, and more with bravado. Nevertheless, she was tremendously excited to be attending her first dance and she could hardly believe she was doing so with someone as thrilling and handsome as Jack.

The ball began an hour after sunset, in the city’s public hall. A large jovial crowd was milling out front when they arrived and Arabella could hear the faint sound of music coming from inside amidst the shouts and laughter. Everyone seemed to be dressed in their finest, and many seemed to have made the trip from nearby towns. Jack was greeted with smiles, handshakes, and claps on the back by almost everyone they encountered, including the Lord Mayor who had provided his alibi the day of his famous ride. Far from being resentful of the trickery, the mayor greeted Jack warmly and ushered them through the throng to the head of the line. At the top of the stairs the slow and stately strains of the minuet welcomed them inside.

Jack explained that the ladies were admitted free, and after supper the bill for the evening would be divided evenly amongst the gentlemen. He introduced her as Miss Hamilton, and though she encountered more than a few jealous looks, there didn’t seem to be any accusing or suspicious ones. Once again it was obvious that highwayman or not, Swift Nick had accomplished a great feat and had met and been pardoned by an admiring king. In the process, he had brought fame to York and he was treated and greeted as a local hero and native son.

“They always start by dancing the minuet,” he said. “Damned if I know why.”

“You invited me to a dance and you don’t like dancing?”

“I don’t particularly care for the minuet. It’s a bit too precious and prancing for my taste.”

Arabella nodded and bit back an unladylike grin. Those were her thoughts exactly, though perhaps that was because she had never really mastered the steps. “Have I finally stumbled upon a thing you do not do exceedingly well?”

His lips quirked with amusement. “I have been known to tread on a skirt or two. I much prefer the country-dances. Fortunately, we fall to them straight after supper and they will last until dawn.”

“Do they take a great deal of skill, Jack?” she asked as they watched the mayor lead his wife out on the floor for the next minuet. There was a hint of worry in her voice.

He secured them both a glass of sack, tossed the waiter a coin, and then moved to stand behind her. “No, love. Country dancing takes only fire and enthusiasm.” His arm brushed against her in a fleeting embrace as he handed her a drink. “Most of the folk you see here go dancing only once or twice a year. They’ve no time for dance masters or practice and instruction books and they are here to enjoy themselves. There’s a good deal of drinking and laughter and most any step that suits the rhythm of the tune will do. A bold lass like you will shine.”

“A bold lass like me?” She looked back at him over her shoulder.

“Aye.” His breath feathered the delicate hairs just behind her ear, then traveled down the back of her neck as he spoke against her shoulder. “The kind who ogle naked arses in broad daylight on the commons.”

She coughed on her drink and Jack patted her back solicitously. Just then, the waiter he had tipped signaled them from across the room. “Ah! Come along, love. Supper is about to begin. And don’t worry. We will watch a bit before we take the plunge.”

A meal was laid out in the adjacent room on a huge table made of several smaller ones pushed together. Piled high with platters of beef, mutton, and salmon caught fresh from the river as well as bread, pies, and cheese and potatoes—it was liberally supplied with large jugs of wine and pitchers of ale.

Jack settled her, still red-faced, in the first seat by the door and took his place across from her. Seconds later a hungry crowd hurried in. There was a bit of good-natured jostling in the rush for seats, but soon they were all seated, the men in a long row on one side, with their ladies facing them on the other.

As there was no clergyman present the Lord Mayor said a short grace and then the eating and drinking, accompanied by a great deal of laughing and joking, began. Swift Nick was asked to recount his audience with the king and Jack held them all spellbound with his impressions of the palace and his description of the wondrous clockwork automatons he had seen in His Majesty’s bedchamber.