Beware of Virtuous Women (34 page)

"Yet you sent Rian and two footmen with me, all of them rather conspicuously armed. People were all but goggling at me, and openly wondering who I was. I longed to tell them I was the princess of some fantastical foreign land, but I restrained myself."

"That's a shame, you should have done it. Now, is there anything else you're angry about, Eleanor?" Jack asked, grinning, and adoring her. "Just so we can get it out of the way, you understand."

Eleanor looked down at her clasped hands. "Mrs. Ryan prepared a rather lovely trifle for you because you'd commented favorably on her last offering. I instructed her to divide it up amongst the staff before it was ruined. And that is by way of a warning, as I wouldn't be surprised if bubble and squeak returned to the menu tomorrow." She smiled up at him. "There, I think that's it. Am I a shrew? I feel like a shrew, but I've been so worried all day..."

"I'm sorry, Eleanor," Jack said, lightly clasping her upper arms. He'd already decided not to tell her about Chelfham's murder attempt on his partners, one that had been only partially successful. She had enough information about her natural father, without adding more sordidness into the mix. "Chelfham told me something that sent me off at a run, and that one thing led to another, and another. I thought about you all day. You're all I think about, which is why I want this over. It's gone on too long as it is. The damn man is interrupting my wooing."

Eleanor longed to melt against him, but held herself back. "And it will be over tomorrow. Even if we're wrong, and he doesn't attempt to attack my coach, we'll go to him, confront him, make him confess to all of his crimes. I know just what I want to say to him, what I want to ask."

Jack knew he had to tell her what he'd done, the plan he and Chance had not only decided upon, but had already acted upon. Now to see how angry she would be at him, and be very glad Eleanor wasn't the sort who threw things. "We don't need to hear him confess to his involvement with the Red Men Gang, Eleanor. The fool showed me where he keeps his records, most probably because he doesn't plan on me living out the week, once I've done his dirty work for him."

"Killing his brother-in-law and Sir Gilbert."

"Phelps and Eccles, yes," Jack agreed carefully. "He most definitely wants them both dead. At any rate, Cluny and I visited Chelfham's study earlier tonight, once he'd left for the evening, and relieved him of the records of his dealings with the Red Men. And before you say anything wonderfully caring, like how I shouldn't have put myself in danger, let me assure you this was nothing I hadn't done before. So, frankly, Eleanor, we no longer need Chelfham to say much of anything, and he won't be saying it to us."

She'd speak with him later about his prowess as a housebreaker but, for now, Eleanor wanted to be very clear about what she believed it necessary she still learn. "Except for him to admit to me that he is my real father. Except for him to tell me if he was involved in the murder of the man I thought was my father. Except to tell me how he knows who I am, and to ask him why he wants me dead."

"No," Jack told her, in real sympathy with her desire to hear what Chelfham had to say. "It's over, Eleanor. That part is over. You already know most of it, and learning more won't change anything. He can only hurt you if you confront him. Let it all go, Eleanor. You have your family, your real family. And you have me, if you want me."

Eleanor blinked back sudden tears. "I don't understand a man like that. If he loved my mother at all, why would he want me dead?"

"I don't know, sweetheart, except to say that your mother died a long time ago, that Chelfham has a wife now and a possible heir soon, and you could be nothing more to him now than a complication he doesn't want," Jack said. "There is something I
do
know. I know that it has been nearly a full day since I last kissed you."

Eleanor allowed her worries to move to the back of her mind. She shouldn't, she should think of nothing but the Earl of Chelfham right now, and so should Jack. But she was so weary of thinking about their problems, and Jack certainly did seem to have a convincing argument. And magnificent green eyes that seemed to narrow in a special way when he looked at her. And perfectly wonderful hands, that cupped the small of her back, that moved so expertly over her breasts. And his mouth. He seemed to have magic in his mouth....

She clung to him as he lifted her, their mouths fused together, and carried her to his bed.

Yet again, she allowed him to be the aggressor, but this time she understood—she was
allowing
him to be the aggressor. He didn't take anything she wasn't more than willing to give him. Eager to give him.

He kissed away her clothing, and she let him.

He shrugged out of his own clothing, and she watched. When she realized that the chamber was lit well enough for her to see him—for him to see her— she only smiled, not at all concerned, but actually happy.

His kisses were long, drugging, extremely intimate, even more intimate when he used his hands on her to mimic the thrusts and soft swirls of his tongue as he eased her legs apart and moved his hands between her thighs.

She let him inside.

He was so gentle. He'd been gentle from the beginning, from their very first time...her very first time. As if she were fragile, as if she might break, as if he didn't want to frighten her, take the chance of harming her.

Her teeth ached with his gentleness, her every muscle screamed from his gentleness....

"Eleanor, what's wrong?" Jack asked as she brought her hand down on top of his, moved him away from her.

"Nothing's wrong," she heard herself say, as if she was speaking from far, far away. Somewhere high above, looking down at the woman lying on the bed, wanting more, not knowing what that was. "I won't break, Jack. I promise."

He smiled, suddenly nervous. "I know that, Eleanor. But we have time for—"

"No. No one ever knows how much time there will be for anything. I'm a woman, Jack. I adore what you do to me, but I'm convinced there's more. I want to
feel
like a woman. I want to lose my mind with wanting you, and I want you to lose your mind with wanting me. Not be careful. Not be considerate. I need to
want,
Jack, and I need you to
want."

"I do want you, Eleanor," Jack told her, amazed at the raw passion, the frustration, in her voice. His Eleanor. His quiet lady. "But you're so small, so—hell, I just don't want to hurt you."

"If I promise not to break, will you stop... stop being so damn careful? Please?"

"You're amazing," Jack said, moving his hands up to cup her breasts. "And I'd be an idiot to say no." He bent over her, gently pushing her breasts upward so that he could grasp her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, then lightly rub back and forth.

Eleanor moaned softly, low in her throat, and arched her head back into the pillows.

He touched his tongue to her nipples; one, then the other, and felt them harden into small, perfect pebbles. And when he covered one nipple with his mouth, laved her with his tongue, and she stabbed her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer against her, he forgot to be gentle.

He pushed down on her hip bone, outlining her form with his hand as he rhythmically rocked her pelvis, guided her against the leg he'd slid between hers, drawn up so that his thigh was tight against her sex.

And then, somehow, he was on his back. With strength he didn't know she possessed, she had risen up and pushed at him, so that she could..
.dear God.

It had seemed so obvious to her earlier, when she'd first thought of the thing. Even logical. If Jack was afraid his weight and size were too much for her, then why not simply...reverse things. Would that be too bold? And did she care if it was? No. She really didn't.

Eleanor slid a perfect, creamy leg over Jack while balancing herself with one palm pressed against his stomach. Her blood roared in her ears as she found Jack and captured him. Then, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she concentrated, she guided him toward her.. .and lowered her body onto him.

"Sweet Jesus," Jack breathed, putting his hands on her hips as she braced her arms behind her, on his thighs.

And then she began to move, riding him, tentatively at first, but as he held on to her hips, mimicked the pumping action she'd begun, she fell into a rhythm that seemed to echo throughout her entire body, sending wave after wave of pleasure crashing over her, lifting her higher, higher.

Eleanor threw back her head as Jack touched his fingers to her nipples yet again, teasing, pinching, sending silken threads of desire arrowing toward her very center.

With a cry of mingled pleasure and frustration, she launched herself forward, unable to go another moment without holding him, feeling his hard body against hers, and together they rolled over on the bed, until she was effectively pinned to the crisp white sheets that felt cool against her back.

Her eyes tightly closed, Eleanor reached her arms up and around Jack's neck, pulling him down to her. "Love me," she breathed into his ear. "Love me."

"I do," Jack said, taking up the rhythm once more.

Plunging deep.

Moving faster.

Losing control.

Eleanor held on tight, her arms and legs wrapped around him, and gave in to the overwhelming urge to bite at Jack's neck, lick his skin, seal her open mouth to him and suck his salty taste into her mouth.

Faster.

Deeper.

Higher.

Give to me, give to me.

Take from me, take from me.

Always one, one made from two.

Now.

Forever...

"Eleanor?"

Eleanor mumbled something unintelligible and curved her body more closely against his.

"Eleanor."

"Mmm..." she breathed on a contented sigh, sliding a hand across his chest, bending her knee over his leg.

"Eleanor, I'm hungry," Jack said, stroking her hair. "And, much as I'm feeling both amazed and gratified at this moment, there is no possible way I can—"

She raised her head slightly, squinting at him through the darkness, and not at all ashamed of her grin at his expense. Goodness, she barely recognized herself...but she liked how she felt, and she wouldn't undo a moment of the hours they'd spent here, in this bed. "Oh. Did you say you're hungry?"

"You mentioned a trifle several lifetimes ago. What sort of trifle?"

"Hmm.. .strawberry, I believe. I was too worried about you to agree to a dessert course."

"Strawberry," Jack repeated, wondering if Eleanor would still consider him to be loverlike if his stomach were to begin growling. "Do you think there's a chance any of it is still in the kitchens?"

"Well, I don't know, but we could go downstairs and see, I suppose," Eleanor said, throwing back the covers, to realize that she was quite naked. She had, in her opinion, come a long way tonight in freeing herself from her self-made strictures, her idea of what constituted ladylike behavior—at least the way it was described in the books she'd read. But, even taking that new freedom into consideration, she was not about to go prancing about the bedchamber, naked. There were limits, and she would set them!