The Forbidden Lord by Sabrina Jeffries (17)

When Jordan came to, he was lying in a puddle of water on the rough wooden floor. Staring up at the stained ceiling, he tried to figure out why he was wet and his head hurt like the dickens. He sat up with a groan and rubbed the knot on his head. How did he come to be lying in such a shabby room?

Then he saw the cracked pitcher a few feet from him, and everything came back to him.

“Devil take her!” he growled as he lurched to his feet. Standing up made the throbbing in his head worse, but rage spurred him on.

The chit had actually run off! And after he’d begun to believe she’d resigned herself to their marriage! That’s what he got for underestimating Emily Fairchild.

Stumbling toward the door, he tried to open it, but it was locked. Damn it! She’d locked him in. He pounded on the door, roaring at the top of his lungs for the innkeeper. He heard a flurry of voices in the hall, a woman’s and then a man’s raised in debate.

“She said he kidnapped her,” the woman’s voice muttered.

The second voice was almost assuredly the innkeeper’s. “Yes, but my dove, he’s an earl! We cannot keep an earl prisoner!”

“Open this door!” Jordan thundered, their discussion only enraging him further. “Open it or I swear I’ll have every magistrate in the county down on your head!”

There was a pause, but it was thankfully short. Then he heard the key turn in the lock, and the door swung open to reveal the innkeeper wringing his hands, accompanied by his scowling wife.

Ignoring them both, he hurried down the creaking stairs as quickly as his aching head would allow. He didn’t know how long he’d been out, but it didn’t matter. He would find her. And when he did…

He burst into the dining room, but a cursory survey revealed she wasn’t there. He whirled upon the innkeeper, who’d followed him down the stairs babbling apologies.

“Where is she?” Jordan growled, taking a step toward the innkeeper.

“She…she…said that you kidnapped her against her will. She…she—”

“Where is my wife!” Jordan thundered.

The innkeeper gestured toward the door with one shaky finger.

Jordan hurried out into the inn yard, more in control of his faculties now. Thankfully, she hadn’t hit him hard enough to do any permanent damage. At the other end of the crowded yard, he saw Watkins remonstrating with a burly man who was handing Emily into the driver’s seat of a small gig.

“Unhand my wife!” Jordan roared as he shoved his way through the throng.

Emily’s eyes widened at the sight of him. “Hurry up!” she urged her would-be rescuer. “Get in!”

When the man hesitated, his startled gaze fixed on the sight of a lord of the realm hurtling across the inn yard toward him, she took up the reins, but Watkins stepped forward, grabbing them away from her before she could do anything.

Glaring first at Watkins, then at Jordan, she stood up in the gig. “I’m going back to London, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me!”

“Don’t count on that,” Jordan bit out as he stalked up to the gig.

The burly man stepped in his path. “The lady don’t want to go with you, guv’nor. And she paid me well to carry her back to the city.”

“Paid you—” He fumbled in his coat pocket for his purse, but it was gone. She’d not only hit him over the head with a pitcher and locked him in, she’d actually had the audacity to steal his money! “I assure you, your gallantry is misplaced. Whatever fool tale she might have told you, this woman is my wife, as my coachman can attest.”

Watkins nodded vigorously, more than ready to lie for his employer, but Jordan’s challenger would have none of it. “She said you’d say that. She said you been lying to people to keep her from escapin’. Well, I ain’t gonna let no bleedin’ swell with debauchery in his mind hurt no proper young lady.”

Jordan glared up at his challenger. Deuce take her, she’d chosen her protector well. The hulking brute outweighed him by five stone and was taller by a couple of inches, even though Jordan wasn’t a small man himself. The man smelled of sweat and field labor, and probably hefted boulders for a living.

Which only enraged Jordan further. “Step aside, or I will make you,” he hissed in a low voice, conscious that half the inn now filled the yard behind him, watching the excitement unfold.

“Make me?” the man laughed. “Make me? Why, you impudent little—”

The man swung one of his beefy fists at Jordan’s head, but Jordan ducked it, countering with a swift blow to the man’s soft belly.

His challenger had just enough time to cast Jordan a look of complete bewilderment, as if shocked that an earl could pack a punch like that, before Jordan gave him a right uppercut to the chin.

The giant staggered back, but didn’t fall. Then he took Jordan by surprise with a blow to the eye that sent Jordan reeling back. Dimly, Jordan heard Emily cry out, begging them to stop, but stopping was out of the question.

The man had tried to steal Emily. And nobody was going to steal Emily. Quickly, Jordan shot his left fist into the man’s face, then put all his strength into smashing his right fist into the giant’s stomach, the man’s weakest area. That did the trick. Emily’s hapless Galahad crumpled to the ground, clutching his belly.

Not for nothing had Jordan spent time at the Lyceum studying pugilism for the past five years. One thing he’d learned—size didn’t matter nearly so much as the placement of one’s blows.

“Next time, don’t come between a ‘swell’ and his wife,” Jordan muttered as he stepped over the moaning form and headed to where Emily still stood in the gig, her mouth agape.

Before she could even protest, Jordan swung Emily down and into his arms. Ignoring her gasp, he carried her toward his coach.

“Put me down!” she cried, pounding on his chest. “Curse you, Jordan, I will not go with you!” When he merely threw her over his shoulder like a sack of wheat and nodded to Watkins to open the carriage door, she cried out, “Somebody stop him! Help me, please!”

Grimly, he tossed her into the coach, then faced the grumbling crowd. Thanks to Emily and his complete miscalculation of her determination not to marry him, he was now in a rather delicate situation. More than one face looked upon him with suspicion, and a knot of beefy laborers had tumbled out of a cart, armed with pitchforks and shovels.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he feigned a nonchalance he didn’t feel. “Please forgive my wife for any trouble she’s caused. She and I argued, and this is her way of punishing me.”

“You…you liar!” she protested through the open door to the coach. “You scoundrel, you—”

He shut it in her face, then leaned against it, glad that his coach was sturdy enough to muffle her voice. “As you can see, she’ll say anything to strike back at me.”

“She says you kidnapped her,” a belligerent voice called out from the crowd.

He snorted. “Come now, do you really think I need to kidnap a woman for companionship? Besides, I told the innkeeper she was my wife when we entered. She didn’t protest it then, and she had every opportunity to do so. But she wasn’t angry at me then.” He cast them a rueful look. “Or at least not as angry as she is now.”

His challenger stumbled to his feet, looking wary and stubborn all at the same time. “The lass said you wanted to take advantage of her. That’s wot she tole me.”

“I must plead guilty to that.” He forced a smile to his face. “I quite often take advantage of my beautiful wife, but then, who wouldn’t?”

To his relief, there were a few titters in the crowd.

“Unfortunately,” he went on, “she detests leaving her fancy friends behind in London for a week at my estate, and she made her wishes quite plain a few moments ago.” He gave an exaggerated sigh. “But alas, business calls, and I do so like having my wife with me in the country where I can…take advantage of her.”

He could sense their sudden indecision. Their strong belief in the immorality of noblemen was being challenged by their equally strong belief in the frivolous whims of noblewomen. And the latter, coupled with his ability to trounce a man nearly twice his size, seemed to be winning, though he didn’t intend to stay here and find out for certain.

To further clinch the matter, he turned to his challenger. “You may keep the money my wife gave you. You deserve it.”

He made sure his look amplified his words, reminding the hulking brute that an earl was no one to trifle with, especially one whose “wife” had stolen his purse. When the man blanched and mumbled, “You ought to keep a tight leash on that one, guv’nor,” Jordan knew he’d won his point.

He turned to the innkeeper. “Thank you for your hospitality, but I’m afraid we must be on the road before my wife gets any other fool notions in her head.”

“Yes, milord, I understand.”

Jordan reached for the door handle, and the innkeeper cried, “Wait!”

He froze, wondering if he were about to be stoned by a mob after all. Turning to the innkeeper, he fixed him with as haughty a gaze as he could manage.

“You and your wife will be needing your breakfast,” the innkeeper stammered. He motioned to a servant girl who disappeared into the inn, then hurried back out with a gingham-covered basket. “I took the liberty of having this prepared.”

“Thank you.” At least one person knew on which side his bread was buttered. Jordan’s smile was genuine this time. “Perhaps this will take the edge off my wife’s anger long enough for me to take advantage of her.”

Amid a more general laughter this time, he opened the coach door and climbed in.

Emily sat stonily on the seat, facing forward. Setting the basket on the other seat, he collapsed next to her and ordered Watkins to drive on.

As they rumbled out of the inn yard, he fought to compose himself. He wanted to throttle her and feared that if he looked at her, he might do so. But in his heart, he couldn’t blame her. He was kidnapping her, after all, even if it were for her own good.

He blamed himself more than anything. He should have realized when she’d acted so skittish at the inn that she wasn’t as resigned to the marriage as she’d pretended.

When he could trust himself to speak civilly, he said, “I hope you don’t intend to repeat this farce at every inn where we stop.”

“Would it do me any good?”

He glanced at her, but she was staring ahead as if in a trance. “I doubt it.”

A slight tremor in her face belied the seeming calm of her voice. He looked down to see that her hands were clenched into fists in her lap.

“I told the truth,” she said bitterly, “but they believed you. All you had to do was speak a few glib tales, and they were quite eager to let me be carried off.”

Her tone was so hurt he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. It made him angry. “Did you really expect them to risk their livelihoods for you? Despite all those poets extolling the idea of the noble savage, the lower classes are no different than you and I. Survival is their first priority. Ideals like chivalry and generosity fall a far second.”

“What a cynic you are.”

She said it without rancor, as if merely making an observation, but it struck him to the heart. He wasn’t a cynic, but a realist. A cynic took a dim view of everything, whereas a realist merely viewed the world in practical terms. Couldn’t she see that?

No. Right now, she probably considered him second only to Satan Incarnate. And all because he was doing the right thing by her.

She ought to be grateful! This wasn’t how a woman should react when a man proposed marriage after ruining her! Here he was, breaking all his rules for the first time in his life, and she didn’t even appreciate it!

He’d never proposed marriage to anyone, and he’d certainly never expected to propose marriage to some wide-eyed innocent. Strange how natural it had felt to proclaim her his wife in that inn yard. The words should have tasted like ashes in his mouth. But during his confrontation with that laborer, he’d never thought of her in any other terms. As far as he was concerned, she was already his wife. They lacked only a piece of paper to sanctify it.

If he could get that far. “Tell me something, Emily,” he said, unable to keep silent any longer. “Why are you so reluctant to marry me that you would proclaim me a kidnapper to escape it? Do you find the idea of marriage to me that repellent?”

He held his breath for her answer, marveling that it should mean so much to him. When she didn’t answer at once, a hollow anxiety settled in the region of his heart that was more disquieting than her answer could possibly be. “Never mind,” he said tightly. “It doesn’t matter.”

She glanced at him, then sighed. “Of course I don’t find the idea of marriage to you repellent. Under other circumstances—”

“What other circumstances?”

Her gaze dropped to her hands. “The kind of circumstances most people marry under. You seem to forget I’m one of those foolish virgins you keep harping on.” She paused, as if afraid to say more. “I…I want love, Jordan. I know you think it’s silly, but it’s what I want all the same.”

It didn’t surprise him to hear her say it, but he found himself incapable of giving her the response she wanted. The thought of saying he loved her terrified him. And it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. Besides, she hadn’t said a word about loving him.

The realization disturbed him more than he liked.

It was several moments before he could manage to speak at all. “And you don’t care that not marrying me would mean your ruin?”

“Marrying only to save one’s honor is ludicrous. You know too well that it leads to disaster. Your parents—”

“My parents? What do you know of my parents?”

She gave an uneasy shrug. “Lord St. Clair told me they were forced to marry. He said they were dreadfully unhappy together.”

“Oh, he did, did he?” Devil take Ian. If Jordan had wanted her to know all that, then he deuced well would have told her himself.

“I don’t want you thinking that I tried to trap you into marriage the way your mother did your father. I couldn’t bear to be in a marriage where you blamed me for ruining your life.”

“I don’t blame any of this on you,” he bit out.

Her gaze shot to him. “Yes, you do. You think all women are alike, that they’re all like your mother—trying to trap you into doing something you don’t want.”

A surge of anger made him scowl. “Do you really think I’m so narrow-minded as to distrust an entire gender because of something one woman did?” When she merely stared at him, he ground out, “Except for that night in the carriage, when I made some admittedly unfounded accusations, have I ever implied that I thought you were trying to trap me into anything?”

A small frown creased her forehead. “Well, no, but—”

“For God’s sake, Emily, I don’t even blame my mother for what happened in my parents’ marriage, so I certainly can’t blame you for this.”

“What do you mean? Of course you blame your mother! That’s why you avoid young virgins!”

He shifted in his seat to face her. “I avoid young virgins because I don’t want to make the same mistake my father made.”

“Exactly. A woman tricked him into marriage, and you don’t—”

“No. Being tricked into marriage was not his mistake. Being so deeply in love that he lost his sense of perspective was.” He gazed steadily at her. “Every man with money and power knows that some women will do anything to obtain it, just as some men will do anything to obtain an heiress. We put ourselves on our guard, and we learn to spot the signs. I assure you, my father couldn’t have reached the age of twenty-six unwed without developing such instincts.”

When she looked at him uncomprehendingly, he sighed. “My mother did set a trap for my father, and yes, they were forced to marry. But she’d been taught by her parents that snagging a husband with a grand title and even grander fortune was the most noble achievement to which any young lady could aspire. She merely behaved as she’d been taught. I don’t blame her for that.”

He took Emily’s hand in his. Gazing down at the strong, capable fingers and the skin that had probably never seen an exotic lotion, he thought how utterly different she was from his vain, grasping mother. “My father, too, had been taught. He knew to be wary of such attentions. But my mother was a beauty, and my father wasn’t the most handsome or charismatic man. He was bookish and shy. So when a blazing beauty flirted with him, he forgot all his caution.”

Jordan’s voice tightened. “His lovesick mind mistook shallowness for naïveté, a frivolous nature for youthful enthusiasm. Whatever she lacked, he supplied in his mind, for the simple reason that he let a blind emotion—and a not-so-blind cock—guide him.”

Instead of looking shocked at his deliberate crudity, Emily was watching him with complete absorption. With a scowl, he released her hand. He hadn’t intended to reveal so much; it had just come out.

But if they were to marry, it was best she know why he didn’t cater to such frivolities. “Eventually,” he went on, “my father emerged from his fog to realize that she wasn’t what he’d made her to be in his mind. But by then it was far too late. She was with child, and he had to do the honorable thing. He woke up to find himself an intelligent, quiet man saddled with a stupid, selfish wife who didn’t share his deep feelings of love or his sensibilities.”

He sucked in a harsh breath. It all came back to him so painfully—the constant fights, his father’s refusal to indulge his mother’s whims, her heavy drinking. And amidst it all, the knowledge that if it hadn’t been for his untimely birth…

With an iron force of will, he shoved away the memories. “Marriage became a torment for him. He loved and was appalled by her at the same time, so he withdrew from the marriage to keep sane. And Mother, deprived of her fawning suitor, looked elsewhere for companionship. In a bottle.” He went on in a bitter voice. “That’s what your foolish ‘love’ did to two sadly mismatched people. In the end, Father’s dalliance with Cupid led to disaster. Can you blame me for finding the emotion dangerous?”

“But Jordan, that’s merely one instance. Your father married a second time, didn’t he? Or wasn’t he in love then?”

“Oh, he was in love, all right. Father never could learn his lesson.”

“So she wasn’t a good person either?” Emily whispered.

His expression softened as he thought of Maude. “She was an angel.” He cast Emily a half smile. “Sometimes you remind me of her.”

She flushed, but didn’t look away. “There, you see? Love doesn’t always end in disaster.”

“You don’t understand. They had a few wonderful years together. Then she contracted a horrible illness, and Father fell apart. He put so much of himself into his love for her that losing her was more than he could bear.” His voice grew somber. “At the end he was a ghost of a man, completely devoted to her, consumed by despair that nothing could be done to save her. He died shortly after she did, because he couldn’t live without her. As far as I’m concerned, it was Cupid who shot the arrow that killed him, leaving his son and step-daughter to grieve without either parent for comfort.”

For a long moment, they were both locked in silence, the thudding of the hooves on the muddy road the only sound. Then she sighed. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. There was pity in her face, a pity that roused his anger.

“I’m not telling you this to sadden you or make you feel sorry for me. I merely think you should know the truth. Even if I wanted to love you, I couldn’t. I taught myself to resist such unstable emotions long ago.” When she blanched, he added, “But that doesn’t mean we couldn’t have a comfortable, contented marriage. Indeed, if it’s not clouded by emotion, it will likely be better than most.”

“You think so, do you?” She lifted her chin, her green eyes soft with regret and hurt…and some other deep emotion. “And what if I’m in love with you?”

To his disgust, his first reaction to the simple statement was sheer joy. Emily, his Emily, in love with him?

Then his practical side reasserted itself, and he forced himself to say, “You aren’t. You’re confusing desire with something else, which is understandable under the circumstances.”

“Don’t patronize me, Jordan,” she snapped. “I may be naive and young and all those things you despise, but I’m not stupid. I know what I feel.”

Uneasily, he realized he had no desire to argue with her on this particular point. How selfish could one man be, to be pleased that she loved him even though he didn’t feel the same?

Yet he couldn’t stop being pleased. He chose his words carefully. “If that’s true, I see no reason it should hurt our marriage. As long as you understand that I don’t…have the capacity to love.”

“Did your father understand that your mother didn’t ‘have the capacity to love’?” she retorted. “Is that what made their marriage such a success?”

She couldn’t have chosen a better weapon. He stiffened. “It’s not the same. My parents weren’t well suited. You and I are.”

She laughed bitterly. “Oh, certainly. You’re an earl; I’m a common rector’s daughter. You take for granted your box at the opera; I count myself blessed to have attended once. You’re on speaking terms with the Prince of Wales; I’d never even seen his portrait until my farce of a coming out. I wouldn’t know the faintest idea how to seat people at a dinner party and—”

“None of that matters to me,” he said fiercely.

“Not today, perhaps. But it will. One day you’ll wake up and find yourself ashamed of me.” She glanced out the window at the dark forest they were passing through now. “If you loved me, you might overlook my lack of sophistication and my ignorance of society, but as it is, those things can only be an embarrassment to you.”

“You’re forgetting your other admirable abilities—your gift for physic, your quick wit, your sweet nature…”

“What does an earl need with any of that? For physic, you have the best doctors money can buy. For wit, you have the greatest minds at your command. And I doubt that a sweet-natured woman is of any use to you at all.”

She was wrong. Her sweet nature was the first thing that had attracted him. But she would never believe that, as self-effacing as she was.

There was one thing she would believe, however. “You’re forgetting a certain, very significant ability.” He caught her chin and tipped it up until she was gazing into his face, her eyes uncertain, almost wary. “The ability to please me in bed.”

Her gaze didn’t waver from his. “That’s the easiest thing to purchase, as you should well know, having paid for your share of tarts and merry widows, my lord.”

He frowned at her deliberate use of his title. “Not as easy as you think.” He threaded his fingers through her hastily dressed hair and dislodged the few pins, letting her hair cascade around her shoulders like a golden robe. His voice grew husky as he caressed her flushed cheeks, the vibration of the carriage making his movements ragged. “I’ve never had a night as enjoyable as last night. For that alone, I’m willing to give you my name.”

He brought his mouth to within inches of hers. If he couldn’t convince her to marry him with words, then he would use any other means possible. But he would convince her. He might not be in love, but he’d decided that a wife could be a very handy thing. Especially when the wife was Emily.

Desire flared in her features, though she tried to hide it. “And what happens when you tire of bedding me?”

The very absurdity of the statement made him smile. “I shall never tire of that.” And before she could summon up any other arguments, he covered her mouth with his.

Good God, she was soft, so soft. She had lips made for kissing, their delicate contours and natural color more tempting than the painted mouth of any whore. Deeply, repeatedly, he drove his tongue inside her mouth, mimicking what he really wanted to do to her. The scent of lavender crowded his senses, lending a sweetness to a kiss that was already more sweet than he could bear.

He had a rabid urge to touch her, all of her, to brand her as his. But he wanted to do it slowly, to make sure that he built her own need to feverish heights first. He stroked the smooth skin of her neck, then down the slope of her chest to where the lacy edge of her bodice ran high along the tops of two perfect swells of luscious, female flesh.

Though she allowed him to kiss her, he could feel the tension in her…the uncertainty. He would banish it thoroughly, he vowed. If it took him all day, he would make her want him as badly as he did her.

His hands slid deftly along the bodice to where a placket hid rows of hooks and eyes. Thankfully, her pelisse-robe opened in the front, so it was an easy matter to unfasten the hooks and bare her chemise.

She jerked back, her fingers flying to hold closed the half-opened bodice. “Jordan, you mustn’t…you can’t…”

“Why not?” He bent to slip his hands beneath her skirts, then skimmed them up her calves, his fingers gliding over the silken stockings until they reached her ribbon garters and tugged them loose with one quick motion.

She flattened her hands over her skirts. “We’re not married yet!”

“That didn’t bother you last night.” He stripped one stocking off, then the other.

“Yes…but…but…here? Now? In broad daylight?”

“The broad daylight I can take care of.” Without even looking, he yanked the curtain shut over the only exposed window. With the day already overcast, the carriage was lit with only the faintest gray light, enough to show her wary expression. “Come now, my darling. We nearly made love that first night we met in my carriage. This isn’t so different from that, is it?”

She scooted back from him on the seat. “It’s very different. You stopped it then. You didn’t want me.”

“I have always wanted you.”

Though she dragged in a shaky breath, she shook her head. “Not me. My body. You want my body, but you don’t want me, the innocent with foolish hopes of love.”

“You forget you’re not so innocent anymore,” he rasped. He removed his coat, then his waistcoat. “And I do want you. All of you.”

Edging closer, he reached for her bodice again. She caught his hand. “I don’t think we should do this.”

He gazed at her, at the parted lips and torn expression. “I see. You can seduce me when you want, but I’m not allowed to do the same. That hardly seems fair.”

“It wasn’t fair for you to kidnap me and force me to marry you.”

“True. I didn’t want to be seduced, and you didn’t want to be kidnapped.” He lowered his voice. “But both of us want this.”

“I…I don’t…” she said weakly when he slid his hand beneath her skirts again. “Please, Jordan, you shouldn’t…”

“You say that only out of anger at me for thwarting your plans. But you don’t mean it. What possible reason could you have for denying us both what we want? Especially when you know we’re going to be married anyway.”

“Because…because…” She faltered as he glided his hand up past her loose stockings to her upper thighs. He found the patch of hair and tangled his fingers in it, caressing her lightly, easily.

She sucked in a ragged breath. “Goodness gracious…oh, dear…”

He delved into her, his blood quickening to find her wet and warm and ready for him. Stroking her in time to the rocking of the carriage, he whispered, “Listen to your body. It never lies.”

He found her little nub and rubbed it until her eyes slid shut and a flush of pleasure lit her face. “You are…a very wicked man,” she choked out.

“Wicked is as wicked does.” He caught her head in his free hand, holding it still as he lowered his mouth to hers. “And I am going to do so very many wicked things to you, my darling…”

She sighed, a small sigh of acquiescence, and he swallowed it with his kiss. He took great pains not to frighten her with the intensity of his need, but it was all he could do to keep the kiss tender when what he truly wanted was to ravish her like a marauding Viking.

At first she responded timidly, hesitantly. But as their tongues mated and twined, she arched toward him, grasping his waist to pull him closer. Before he knew it, she was clutching handfuls of his shirt and tugging it loose from his trousers.

He unfastened the buttons of his trousers, then his drawers, eager to help her. Her hands slid down his sides and around to his back. But when she slipped them inside his loosened trousers to cup his buttocks, he nearly lost all control.

“Good God,” he muttered as he tore his mouth from hers, “you never cease to amaze me.”

Her eyes were glazed with desire, and a sultry smile touched her lips. “If you can do wicked things to me…then I can do wicked things to you—”

His kiss cut her off, and this time he couldn’t contain his need. His tongue drove into her, possessing her mouth, while the fingers of one hand probed between her legs, seeking her slick inner core. She shifted to give him better access, but nearly fell off the seat and had to move back. Their positions made it awkward to touch her like this, especially with the carriage motion threatening to toss them onto the floor any minute.

With a growl, he removed his hand and sat back on the seat. Shoving his trousers and drawers down past his knees, he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her onto his lap. As her mouth went round in surprise, he maneuvered her until she was straddling his thighs, her skirts hitched up past her knees.

She planted her hands on his shoulders and gazed at him wide-eyed. “Wh-what are you doing?”

Reaching for her bodice, he unhooked her gown, peeling it away until she wore only her sheer chemise. “There’s more than one way to make love, Emily. I took you like a rutting savage last night, so today you shall set the pace.”

A blush stained her cheeks as she stared down at his rampant erection. “I…I don’t understand.”

He grinned. “Oh, I think you do.” Clasping her waist, he drew her closer so that his member jutted up against her, the tip brushing the bunched-up chemise covering her belly. “Put your knees on the seat. Yes, like that. Now rise up on them and…”

That was all the direction she needed. Though her face was a brilliant shade of red, she nonetheless positioned him beneath her, then slid slowly down, encasing him in her sweet velvety warmth.

“Oh, God…” he groaned. “You feel so good…so damned good…” If he’d ever guessed she’d be this willing and adept a learner, he would have proposed marriage the first night he’d met her. Obviously, he needn’t worry that she would want to make love with the candles snuffed and the curtains drawn.

Indeed, there was a light in her face now—excitement at her success, surprise, and certainly the hot flush of enjoyment. She wiggled experimentally on his lap, and he gasped.

Casting him a delighted smile, she did it again. It only served to torment him, since she didn’t continue the motion. He writhed his hips beneath her, trying to get her to move the way he wanted, but she merely sat there.

“You have to move, darling,” he ground out. “Up and down.”

“I know how it’s done, Jordan.” A mischievous grin spread over her face. “I was there last night, too, remember? But you said it was my turn to set the pace, and that’s what I’m doing. I think I’d rather sit here a moment and look at you.”

First she stripped his shirt from him, then dragged the tips of her fingernails slowly down the front of his chest.

“Emily…” he growled.

“How about this?” With a smile, she slowly, maddeningly, rose up on her knees and came back down on him by tortuous degrees. His fingers dug into her sides as he gritted his teeth. She did it again, even slower this time, though she finished with a little shimmy of her hips that drove him absolutely insane.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a tease?”

“Me? I didn’t start this, and you know it.”

With an oath, he glared at her. “Move, damn you!”

“You mean, like this?” Her face was the very picture of innocence as she slid up the length of him, then back down by what seemed like quarter inches. “I am doing it right, aren’t I?”

Sweat formed on his brow. She thought to torture him, did she? Well, two could play that game. He insinuated one finger in the place where they were so tightly joined and groped for her sweet, sensitive center. She gasped when he stroked the nub so lightly, it was almost not a caress.

Now she was the one to groan and undulate toward his hand.

“You like that, don’t you?” He touched her again, briefly and certainly not enough to satisfy. “Is that how you want it?” He mimicked her earlier words. “I am doing it right, aren’t I?”

“Please…Jordan…” She leaned into him, her fingers pinching his shoulders. Her breasts hovered inches from his mouth. Even when draped by her nearly transparent chemise, they were too tempting to ignore.

He sucked one through the muslin, then blew on the wet, gauzy material until she shuddered, her nipple a swollen nubbin beneath the cloth. “More?” he asked wickedly. He bestowed the same treatment on the other one, his tongue darting out to give the nipple a fleeting caress. “Or shall I stop?”

“Curse you for always having to win,” she said even as she dragged off her chemise, then shoved her lovely bare breasts into his face. The motion shifted her on his lap, tightening her grip around his erection.

He groaned. “I think we should both win.” He thrust his hips up beneath her, reminding her of what he wanted. “Move, Emily, move…”

And finally, she did.

It was exquisite. It was utter torture. She found the perfect rhythm, smooth and rapid and enticing. She even managed to blend the rocking of the carriage with her own rocking in a precise symphony of movement that wrung him like a hot hand.

Good God, having her make love to him was incredible. The scent of lavender spiked his senses, and her shimmies and innocent twists sent him reeling. He could hardly hold back his release to await hers. But hold back he did. After last night, he wanted her to know complete satisfaction.

So he focused all his efforts on laving her breasts with his tongue and stroking the hot silk of her between her legs.

“My goodness, Jordan…” she whispered when he tugged on her nipple with his teeth. “Do that again…yes…oh, yes…”

Her unvarnished enjoyment was a curse, for it made it nearly impossible for him to restrain himself. He had to close his eyes to keep from seeing the pleasure shining in her flushed features, the amazingly erotic image of her riding him. As an innocent, she was overpowering; as an experienced woman, she would be annihilating.

God preserve him until the annihilation.

Her rhythm increased, her body descending like a goddess’s to torture him with pleasure. The rush to release became unstoppable, especially when she caught his mouth with hers and began to probe boldly inside with her tongue. He sucked on her tongue with almost frantic eagerness.

Suddenly she broke off the kiss, her body arching above him. “I love you, Jordan!” she cried as she undulated around him. “I love you…I love you…”

That was all it took. With a guttural cry, he spilled himself inside her and felt her shudder around him at the same time.

I love you, her words echoed in his head as he clasped her fiercely to him. I love you.