Chapter 16

Just Past Dawn

The Dukes’ Club hideaway

Beautiful girls in Jack’s experience knew that they were. . . well, beautiful. As he gazed down into his wife’s earnest eyes, his heart beat in the most alarming and painful of ways. What bastard had taught her to believe she was anything less than a diamond of the first water?

And he had an eye for women. Could see the ones that were glorious. The ones that left the powdery, uninspiring little pretty faces behind. Cordelia Eversleigh was a woman who could slay a ballroom of men if she so chose, and she had absolutely no idea.

That had to change.

If it was the last thing he did, she was going to see how insanely, maddeningly beautiful she was. Carefully, he caressed his thumb over her lower lip, keeping his gaze locked on hers. “You are the most beautiful woman of my acquaintance, and since you will not believe what I tell you. I am going to show you.”

A flash of fear crossed her features. “I don’t see how.”

Something strange was happening to him. Something completely unfamiliar and as he lowered his head, he whispered. “Sight isn’t very reliable my darling. But this is.”

He did not kiss her mouth, but tilted her face slightly and kissed her brow. Then reverently, worshipfully, he traced kisses along his beautiful, un-prepossessing wife’s face. And with each feather light press of his lips to her warm skin, he body unfurled with a passion so intense, he could scare draw breath.

A soft gasp emanated from her and she tilted her head back, offering herself up to him.

Inwardly, Jack felt satisfaction that she was blossoming under his touch. Yes. He would help her see how beautiful she was. It was perhaps the one thing a man like himself could give her.

Her hands came up from her sides and tentatively rested on his shoulders. “Kiss me.”

“I am kissing you,” he teased softly.

Much to his amazement, she pounded a fist against his arm. “Properly,” she demanded.

He laughed. His darling Cordelia wanted what she wanted, and he couldn’t help but admire that. “And how exactly is that?” he asked against her soft skin as he slid his lips along her jaw.

Cordelia’s chest lifted up and down, her breasts pressing suggestively against her tight frock. “W-with passion.”

The hitch in her voice was nearly his undoing but he would not allow his passion to take rein. Not yet. Not when he needed to gain her trust so that she might enjoy her first bout of love making.

It was so tempting to brand her lips with his kiss but that wasn’t right. Not with Cordelia. “Kiss me.”

“What?”

He bent his head down until his lips were within her reach. “You kiss me. . . If you want to, that is.”

She licked her lower lip and stared at his lips for a moment as if this was an idea she had never contemplated. Slowly, she traced her hands up his arms, placed them atop his shoulders, lifted herself onto her toes, and kissed him. Hard.

He was tempted to pull back at the frontal assault to his mouth, but he wanted her to adventure into her unknown land, and to do that, he would follow her lead.

She leaned back, a look of frustration upon her face. “That wasn’t right.”

He refrained form grinning, knowing how she’d take it. “How do you want to be kissed? Think about that. Then kiss me in that way.”

She nodded and closed her eyes. A soft blush caressed her cheeks and her lips curved in a seductive smile.

“You’ve decided?” he asked, his own body alive with desire. Desire so intense he kept himself still, lest he drag her body against his.

She opened her eyes. Carefully, she brought one hand to rest upon his cheek. Tilting her head to the side, she touched her lips to his so softly at first it was barely a kiss at all, but then she began to open her mouth slightly, taking his bottom lip gently between hers and then she urged his face closer to hers and slipped her tongue into his mouth.

Jack’s brain nearly went blank. Good Christ. Cordelia’s mouth worked over his with a shockingly sensual skill and the feel of her delicate tongue tracing over his shoved him over the edge. He wrapped his arms about her, plastering her body against his and every curve of her form melded to his.

Splaying his hands over her back, he touched his tongue to hers giving now as much as taking.

At the onslaught, Cordelia slid her fingers through his hair, holding onto him for dear life as she threw herself wholeheartedly into their kiss.

The loud bang of a gunshot had Jack grabbing Cordy. He shoved her down to the floor and he tossed his body atop hers, his entire form going into battle shock.

Plasterwork showered down upon them and Jack glanced up, searching for the shooter. “Cease! It’s the Duke of Hunt.”

“Your Grace?” a voice called from the back of the house. Clearly, hiding behind a wall, making ready for another attack.

“Yes, damn it,” he growled.

“I don’t believe you,” the armed man called.

Jack let forth a blue streak of curses.

“Who is that?” Cordy hissed, her eyes wide and her face decidedly flushed from the weight of his body atop hers.

“One of Charles’ cracked soldiers. I believe its Harris.”

“C-cracked?”

“Now is not the opportune moment to explain,” Jack said. Explaining how Charles and Jack gave employment to men who were too shaken from the battle fields to do any sort of work was a time consuming business that most of the ton thought was complete nonsense. Charles had found the fellow to care for the Dukes’ Club’s private country gathering. “Harris?” he called.

“Password.” The other man said most determinedly.

Jack grimaced. “French Letter.”

Immediately, Harris shuffled out into the hall, his curly gold hair threaded with silver a blaze like an off balance halo in the morning light. “Pass friend.”

Jack sighed and rolled off Cordelia, refusing to contemplate the intimacy of their position, not when Harris was in the vicinity.

Cordy omphed as he re-distributed his weight and as soon as she could clearly breath again she asked, “Why in goodness name, would French communications be a password.”

Harris grinned. “Not communications ma’am. They’re—”

“Harris,” Jack growled before the other man could educate his wife in the practices of sheathing a cock for protection against the diseases of Venus. It was tempting to give the old soldier a set down, but ‘twould do no good but to crush the other man, who no doubt took his hard won position very seriously. “Good work.”

Harris gave a nod. “Thank you, Your Grace. I was reading and heard most curious noises. I saw you, but one can never be too certain. Doubles don’t you know. Old Boney, he’s a sly one.”

Cordy glanced at Jack askance. “Boney?”

“Bonaparte,” Jack offered, somehow keeping his face straight lest he harm old Harris’s feelings. The old fellow had taken a musket butt to the head and never quite recovered. He’d saved the colors though, never letting them fall into enemy hands. He’d been a hero. A man that inspired hundreds of other men to face the French bravely, despite the seemingly never ending supply of soldiers in Napoleon’s infamous columns and cavalry.

Now, the rest of England found him to be an irritant. Someone expendable as though men like Harris weren’t saving the nation from tyranny and French rule. Jack shook the sadness aside, unwilling to dwell on such thoughts. Not with Cordy beside him. She was sunshine to his sorrow and he would never contaminate her with that side of his life.

She didn’t deserve that kind of poison. No. She deserved a million perfect days and someone to worship her as the prim and maddeningly seductive goddess she was.

“My apologies ma’am,” Harris said, sketching an odd little bow, his hair flopping about his ears. “But spies be everywhere. Couldn’t take the risk of failing Lord Charles or His Grace.”

Cordy stared for a moment before smiling. “You did your duty most successfully, I assure you. I for one understand how important it is to be diligent in the protection of what one values.”

Harris’s cheeks blossomed red.

Jack eyed his wife, a shocked sort of awe warming the general vicinity of his heart. Many would have offered a snide comment, or at best ignored the old soldier. Cordelia spoke with utter sincerity. It was beautiful and heart breaking at once because he could not recall one single person speaking thusly to himself.

Jack looked away quickly, horrified that he could be jealous of Harris and the kindness his wife bestowed upon the fellow. Jack sucked in a fortifying breath. He didn’t need kindness, nor sincere words. That was not what was at his core. And to think otherwise was foolish. Yes. Very foolish.

“What do you here, Your Grace?”

Jack snapped out of his reverie and focused on the servant. “We’ve come to stay the week.”

Harris rubbed his whiskered chin. “Oh aye. Secret business, no doubt?”

“Exactly,” Jack assured. “Can you fetch food from the village?”

“Certainly, Your Grace. Should you like me to lay a fire for the lady?”

“That would be most kind,” Cordelia said. “I should also like to wash.”

“Food first Harris. I’ll take care of the lady.”

A twinkle sparkled in the older man’s eye as if he was perhaps not as cracked as he seemed. “I’m sure ye will, Your Grace.”

Jack cleared his throat and started for the stair, gesturing for Cordelia to proceed him.

With a surprisingly bounding step, Cordelia headed up the stairs.

Jack’s gaze followed the swing of her hips as she ascended, that mysterious feeling still very much alive within his chest. And as she reached the landing and glanced back over her shoulder, a cheeky smile dimpling her cheeks, Jack wonder what the hell he had gotten himself into. For he had the very bad feeling if he was not careful, the student would quickly become the master.