Chapter Eighteen
Lia clung to Jack’s shoulders, her eyelids instinctively fluttering shut. One minute they’d been sniping at each other and the next he’d swept her clean off her feet and into a hard embrace. She could barely think or move with his tongue filling her mouth in a hot sweep, his kiss drawing the breath from her lungs. No doubt she would soon faint from lack of air—or from the shock of Jack actually kissing her, and enthusiastically, too.
This was no decorous kiss between friends. This was a tempest, unleashed upon her with the force of a thunderstorm rolling down from the craggy Yorkshire dales. It knocked every sensible thought out of her head.
Digging her fingers into his coat, she tried to find purchase. She needed to push him away, if she wanted to retain a particle of sense in her frazzled brain, because any second now Jack would come to himself and no doubt pull away, horrified and guilt-ridden for losing control.
It felt like passion, the luscious taste of his mouth, the nip—oh—of his teeth on her lower lip. But this surprising, impetuous, scorching kiss wasn’t passion. It was anger and the need to teach her a lesson. It wasn’t desire or love or even lust. It was Jack, the most easygoing and patient man on the planet, finally reaching the end of his rope. And once he clambered back up that rope, he would be mortified by what he’d done.
And she would be utterly devastated when he rejected her—again.
Push him away—now.
She breathed a sigh of regret, then flattened her hands on his chest and shoved. It wasn’t easy because her toes dangled above the floor and his muscled arms lashed her close with startling strength. Jack seemed reluctant to release her, even though he’d surely made his point. In fact, when she wriggled, trying to put some daylight between them, the growl from his throat sounded more like a feral dog than a man trying to impart a scold. Even more amazing was the feel of one of his hands sliding down her spine to clamp onto her bottom, tucking her tight against him.
Lia froze, completely shocked. She was a maiden but hardly naïve. She knew what happened between men and women and knew that a certain degree of enthusiasm was required to complete the deed, especially on the man’s part. To say that Jack had reached such a state of enthusiasm would grossly understate the case; his erection pressed against the softness of her belly with insistence. It also pressed against other parts that no respectable young woman generally thought about.
Of course, that was all she could think about at that moment, and it triggered a desire to squirm just a little bit closer and a little bit higher, so that her—
Stop.
She slammed the door to the images flooding her brain and pressed her lips shut against him. It wasn’t an easy task when a man was trying to push his tongue deep into one’s mouth. Jack sensed her retreat and drew back, his mouth slowly, reluctantly, sliding away. His arms, however, remained locked around her in an intractable hold.
Gasping, Lia gazed up at him, her head swimming as she absorbed the hunger in his glittering, dark eyes and the sensual set to his mouth.
“What’s wrong, Lia?” His tone was husky and deep, making her shiver.
“You truly don’t want to do this, Jack. Besides, you’ve amply made your point.”
His lips, damp from their torrid kiss, curved up in that wry, familiar smile. “The hell I don’t. And if I did have a point when I started this, I’ve completely forgotten it.”
When he started to lower his head again, she locked her wrists to hold him back. “That comment proves my point. You need to stop and think, and in the meantime, please put me down.”
As much as she enjoyed his quite arousing strength, she was also getting tired of dangling like a rag doll.
He grimaced, but then eased her down in a deliberate slide that left her gasping. She felt everything, and it all felt deliciously . . . hard.
“That wasn’t very polite of you,” she said as her toes hit the floor. She was forced to keep a tight grip on his forearms until she regained her balance.
Jack leaned down and nuzzled her cheek. “I’m not feeling very polite at the moment.”
She shivered. “Ah yes, I couldn’t help but notice. But please just stop and think for a minute before something unfortunate comes to pass.”
He barked out a short laugh. “I’m done thinking. Besides, I don’t think I could if I tried.” He tapped a finger to his skull. “At least not with this particular head.”
“Good God, Jack. Have you completely lost your senses? You’ll only—”
He leaned against the door and pulled her between his braced legs. There wasn’t a scrap of space between them and only a few scraps of cloth between body parts that had no business interacting in such a reckless fashion.
“I’ll only what?” he asked.
“Ah, I forget.” She needed to get the situation under control, but neither her brain nor her body showed the slightest inclination to cooperate.
He flashed her a wicked, seductive smile. “Good, because I’m done talking. All I want do is feel—feel you.”
She goggled up at him, unable to formulate a sensible response. The way he looked at her—as if he wanted to strip her bare and devour her—made her go positively light-headed.
When his hands stroked down from her waist, cupping her bottom, Lia didn’t even try to swallow the moan that rose from her throat. She might even have wriggled a bit, although she wasn’t sure because her brain had ceased to function with any reliability. When he nibbled her jaw and then kissed her neck, she found herself craning her head to the side, silently urging him on to the shivery part right behind her ear.
Clearly, she was an idiot.
“Aren’t you tired of talking, too?” he whispered. “Don’t you want this as much as I do?”
“I . . . I’m just trying to be sensible, Jack. One of us has to be.”
His hands came up to her shoulders and he tipped her back a few inches. His gaze ran hungrily over her form. “There’s nothing sensible about any of this, love. Especially the way you’re dressed,” he added, as if he’d just noticed her ridiculous costume.
He ran a finger along her collarbone and then dipped down between her breasts. It felt as if he’d brushed a flame over her skin. When he trailed hard fingertips across the plump swell of her breasts, a sultry heat cascaded through her body to settle low between her thighs. How could such a simple touch evoke so much sensation?
Because it was Jack.
“I want you, Lia,” he said in a low, rough voice. “All of you. No more barriers between us, no more being sensible.” He leaned down to flick his tongue across her parted lips. “No more saying no,” he whispered.
She clung to him as the axis of her feverish, spinning world, the only thing keeping her from collapsing in a quivering heap. He’d been everything she’d ever wanted for as long as she could remember. When she was a little girl, he was a comet shooting through the ordered march of days, flaring brightly through her life a few times a year. And from the moment she’d started to grow into womanhood, she’d yearned for him with an ache that could never be assuaged. That ache now flooded her body, refusing to be denied for one second longer.
“But, don’t you think . . .” she quavered, making one last push to save herself.
To save him.
He nuzzled her mouth, cutting off her objection and sealing her fate. From the moment he’d come to her rescue tonight, she’d been fighting against this moment of surrender. She’d even asked for his help in finding a protector. It had been her last stand, a gamble to either secure his help or drive him away once and for all.
What she hadn’t expected was his rejection of both those scenarios. What she hadn’t counted on was Jack laying hands on her and staking his claim.
One of those hands swept down over her chest to cup her breast. He swiped a thumb over the nipple, gently teasing it, and her feeble resistance crumbled into dust.
“Hmm, that’s nice.” An utterly satisfied smile raised the corners of his mouth as he flicked his thumb back and forth across the stiffening peak. “Do you think it’s nice, Lia?”
“I . . . yes,” she whispered. Her voice sounded as wobbly as the muscles behind her knees.
“Good,” he growled.
“And you’re sure?” she asked, still doubting. “Really sure?”
Because if he later regretted this she would simply die. Whatever else might happen between them in the future, she wanted this moment to be untouched by guilt—or anything that wasn’t passion or grace or even good, clean lust between two adults who knew exactly what they were doing and why.
He cradled her face between his palms. “Love, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
“Oh, I . . . well, that’s all right, then.”
His quiet laugh was rueful. “Please trust me, Lia. Trust me as you always have. As you know you can.”
She let his words sink into her heart, because that was where trust lived. “Always, Jack.”
“Thank God.” He swept her into his arms, lifting her high against his chest. “Because your costume is driving me insane. I’ve spent the entire evening trying not to look at your breasts and wanting to murder every man who did look at them.”
She hid her face against his shoulder. “I’m sorry I’m such a trial,” she said, trying not to laugh.
“Oddly, I don’t seem to mind,” he said, “at least not at the moment.”
That brought her head up. “Because you’re going to have your evil way with me?”
“Indeed I am,” he said, sounding remarkably cheerful. He looked cheerful, too, albeit in a lustful way. In fact, he seemed much more like his old self than the man who’d spent months struggling under the burden of too many responsibilities and a life he’d never wanted.
He carried her to the large leather club chair, wincing slightly as he settled her on his lap. When she wriggled a bit to get comfortable on his hard thighs, it drew a slow hiss from between his lips. Although she feared she’d hurt him, his expression suggested the opposite. His gaze was heavy-lidded and sensual as one hand cradled the back of her neck and the other settled comfortably under her breasts.
She cocked an eyebrow. “Are we staying here? I’m sure Lord Stanley and his friends are long gone by now.”
“Don’t remind me of that loutish crew. No, we’re staying here because it’s private and no one will interrupt us.”
She slid her arms around his neck. “That’s all right, I suppose.” She wasn’t quite sure how she was going to lose her virginity sitting up in a chair, but no doubt Jack knew what he was about.
He gave her a sardonic look as he went to work unlacing the crisscrossed ribbons on the front of her bodice. “I’m hardly going to despoil you in a grimy hackney on the way back to Upper Wimpole Street. I cannot imagine a more unromantic setting.”
She crinkled her nose. “And you’re much too big for me to sneak you up to my bedroom, although we could give it a try.”
He pulled the ribbons free and her bodice sagged open, exposing her stays and shift. “The only thing less romantic than making love in a hackney would be doing it with Sir Dominic and Lady Hunter just down the hall.”
“Yes, I imagine that would be rather off-putting.”
Not to mention exceedingly risky. If anyone got wind of what happened tonight, Jack would be compelled to offer for her hand in marriage. Lia had no intention of ever putting him in that untenable situation. Tonight was a moment out of time, a magical interlude in which they could pretend to meet on equal footing, with no obligations weighing them down and no families to disapprove.
She had to blink back tears, knowing it would likely only be this once. But at least, this first time, it would be him, the man she loved. That was a memory and a blessing she would cherish forever.
“Granny was right,” she whispered.
He glanced up, his busy fingers resting on her stays. “Sorry, what?”
She gave him a smile. “Nothing. Carry on, Lord Lendale, and do let me know if there’s anything I can do to assist.”
His laugh was husky and so delicious it made her want to squirm.
“All I want you to do is enjoy yourself,” he said. “This night is entirely for you.”
He kissed her lips, briefly parting them for a taste. She sighed into his mouth and let her fingers curl into the silky tips of his hair. Her heart thumped as her mind struggled to grasp that she could touch him as much as she wanted, wherever she wanted.
It was so much more than she’d ever thought she’d have.
He pulled back with an appreciative murmur and went to work on her conveniently front-laced stays.
“That was much too easy,” he said, tugging them down. “You’re not to wear a garment like this again, is that clear? It gives a man ideas.”
“It certainly seems to have worked with you.”
“Yes, and all my ideas about you are scandalous,” he said as he cupped her breast.
Her nipples were dark and stiff with arousal, pushing against the thin fabric of her shift. He thumbed first one, then the other. The linen rasped across the tight beads with delicious abrasion, sending shivers coursing along her skin.
“Beautiful,” he whispered.
Jack held her tight as he slowly lowered his head. His tongue flicked out, laving her nipples through her shift. Lia wriggled, silently urging him to increase the pressure. He resisted, obviously intent on teasing her. When she tried to arch up into the light pressure, he lifted away from her.
“That’s just cruel,” she gasped.
“Is it?” he murmured. His entire focus was on her chest, where he’d pulled the damp fabric tightly across the stiff peaks.
“Yes.” She needed so much more than gentle play. She needed his hands and his mouth on every part of her, drawing forth the sensations she’d craved for so many long, lonely years. “I don’t like being teased and you know it.”
He scraped a palm across the tight point. “But it’s such fun to tease,” he said, his tone full of masculine satisfaction.
Well, two could play at that game.
Giving him a taunting smile, she flexed her hips, pressing down into his lap. His erection pulsed against her bottom and he made a slight, choking sound. Lia ran her index finger down his proud, aristocratic nose, then dragged it across his lips while she wriggled her hips again.
“You were saying, my lord?” she purred.
In retrospect, her form of teasing might have been a bit of a mistake because lust burned hot across Jack’s features, searing away any hint of laughter in his eyes. The muscles of his legs went as hard as iron and his arm locked around her shoulder in an unbreakable grip.
“No more games, Lia.” His hand curled around her breast, firm and possessive.
“But it’s all a game, isn’t it?” she whispered. Even as her heart swelled with emotion, she knew that this could never be more than a brief moment of magic. It could never be forever.
“It’s much more than that,” he said, sounding almost grim. “Because you’re mine.”
He took her shift and yanked, ripping the top. She gasped as he squeezed a flushed nipple between his fingertips.
“All mine,” he rasped.
Then his mouth was on her. She cried out and jerked against him, but he held her fast, sucking and laving her breasts until she thought she would faint. Lia had dreamed of this so often, their first time together, and she’d always thought it would be slow and gentle, with tender touches and tentative whisperings. That their lovemaking would be dreamy and soft, in her cozy bed under the eaves of Bluebell Cottage.
But instead this was a hurricane, terrifying in its intensity, and she wanted it so much her heart threatened to beat its way out of her chest. She squirmed, pulling a hand free and clamping it to the back of Jack’s head, pushing her breast into the scorching depths of his mouth. Her back curved in a fierce arch, her body offering him everything he wanted.
A few seconds later he eased back—she wanted to scream from frustration—and let his tongue rest flat against one throbbing nipple. Lia moaned and yanked on the thick locks of his hair.
“Ouch,” he said, glancing up at her. The laughter was back in his eyes, although heat flickered behind the amusement, like distant summer lightning.
“Why are you stopping?” she panted. Her sex had grown soft and wet, throbbing with the need for release.
“Because I shouldn’t be all over you like a slavering beast. At least not our first time together.”
First and only time together.
Shoving aside that pang of sorrow, she stretched up to kiss him, nudging his lips open and sucking on his tongue. He groaned deep in his chest as she filled her mouth with him, reveling in the slick exchange. It was hot and delicious, as she’d known it would be. It was a promise of things to come, when he would kiss her like this while slowly thrusting into her, his erection pulsing inside her yielding body.
How shocking it was to think such scandalous thoughts—to want this from a man who could never wed her. Lia supposed that made her just as wicked as her mother and grandmother, and that was probably a good thing. After all, if she intended to embark on a career of having sexual relations with men, it would be terrible to discover she didn’t like it.
Unfortunately, she had a sinking feeling that only Jack could ever make her feel this way.
She drew back and had to stifle a smile at the slightly dazed expression on his face. “You’re not acting like a beast. Besides, do I look as if I mind?”
His gaze traveled over her face and down her semi-nude body. “No,” he said, gently tugging her nipple between his fingertips. “In fact, you look ready for more. Much more.”
“Splendid,” she whispered, feeling rather dazed herself. Her limbs had never felt like this—practically quivering with energy and yet so heavy and languid at the same time. She wanted to sprawl on his lap all night, letting him play with her for hours on end.
He slowly swept his hand down her body, lingering on her belly before drifting down to her mound. He gently cupped it briefly through her silly, frothy skirts before letting his hand glide down to her thigh.
“You have a gorgeous body, Lia,” he murmured as he gently squeezed her thigh. “I never knew how gorgeous because you always wore such plain, practical gowns.”
“Yes, because one doesn’t generally dress like a tart when weeding the kitchen garden or cleaning out the pantry.”
When his hand stilled on her thigh, his fingers digging in slightly, she glanced up to see him glowering at her.
Lia sighed. “Now what?”
“You may have dressed like one tonight, but you are not a tart,” he said emphatically.
She lifted an ironic brow and glanced down at herself. She was sprawled across him, half-naked, her breasts still damp and flushed from his mouth. “Oh really?”
He leaned in until they were practically nose to nose. “I repeat—you are not a tart.”
It was terribly sweet of him to be so insistent, but it was also quite absurd. Still, she had no intention of getting into an argument with him on the subject. He’d probably dump her off his lap and then drag her home—maidenhead intact—just to prove his point.
She rested a hand on his cheek. “I know. Thank you, Jack. Now, can we get on with things?”
He let out a reluctant laugh. “You’re very impatient, aren’t you?”
“For some reason I’m feeling quite restless and irritated. I’m hoping you can do something about that.” She began to unbutton his waistcoat.
Jack brushed her fumbling hands away. “I can and I will. You, however, are to do nothing but sit back and enjoy.”
“But—”
When he lifted an imperious eyebrow, she subsided on his lap with a grumble.
“Good girl,” he said, giving her an approving kiss on the tip of her nose.
“But I don’t understand—” Her eyes widened when he slipped a hand under her knee and propped her leg over the arm of the chair, spreading her.
“Oh,” she breathed out.
“Oh,” he echoed her with a smile.
As he nudged her thighs wider, the air seemed to catch in her lungs. And when he pushed her skirts up to her waist, completely exposing the soft tangle of dark curls at the top of her thighs, she lost her breath completely.
“Look at you,” he said in a low, husky murmur, his hand settling low on her belly. “You’re so beautiful, my sweet.” His fingers drifted down. “So soft.”
Lia trembled as she watched him delve into the curls hiding her sex. The erotic sight made her feel wanton. She lay across him, her body completely exposed, a sensual plaything for him to use as he wished. And yet he cradled her with a tenderness that made her eyes start to sting. His gaze held as much reverence as it did heat, making her feel utterly cherished.
What she felt for Jack was too big for her body to contain. It almost seemed like a fatal blow to her heart.
“Lia, are you all right?” He withdrew his hand, a quiet concern marking his brow.
She had to swallow a few times before she could answer. “I will be, once you start touching me again.”
There was passion again in his eyes. “Oh, love, I never want to stop touching you.”
He took her mouth in a kiss that scorched her. Then his hand, possessive and hard, cupped her sex, claiming her. When he parted her folds, Lia moaned and jerked against him. He held her tightly against his brawny chest, murmuring encouragement as he played with her. His fingertips moved with assurance, slickly spreading her wide. He teased her bud to aching, hard prominence. Lia arched her back, pushing into his hand to increase the delicious pressure.
Oh, and he teased her there, just as he’d teased her nipples, circling and making her strain for his touch. When he finally touched the bud, she cried out as luxurious spasms rippled out from deep inside.
Her skin felt shockingly hot and every muscle seemed to skitter and jump with restless desire. She flung her arm around his neck, digging her fingers into his cravat as she tried to spread her legs even wider.
Jack leaned forward and nuzzled her mouth, sliding his tongue across her lips. “What do you want, sweetheart? Are you ready to come?”
“Yes, dammit,” she choked out. “Do something.”
His laugh was wickedness incarnate. He flicked her sex once, twice, and a third time, but it still wasn’t enough. She let out a soft wail and arched off his lap.
“Tell me what you want.” His voice was so low and hard it seemed almost like a stranger’s.
“I want you inside me,” she gasped. “Why do you wait?”
He was holding back, damn him, so careful with her that she wanted to scream. Even now he wouldn’t take her—at least not all of her—even though she was more than ready to give him everything.
His laugh was harsh. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll give you exactly what you need.”
When he pushed two fingers inside her channel and pressed his thumb over the tight knot of her sex, moonlight and stars burst behind her eyelids. She let out a high, choking cry as waves of pleasure overtook her. His hands moving over her, inside her, threw Lia into a shimmering void, sending her soaring higher and higher, reaching for those vibrant shards of starlight. Then he caught her as she fell to earth, holding her gently and murmuring soft endearments as she drifted down into her body.
But when she opened her eyes to take in his tight, almost somber expression, Lia couldn’t escape one simple fact—while Jack had catapulted her to the heavens, he’d unfortunately decided to send her there alone.
* * *
Only the mightiest of efforts had prevented Jack from ripping open the fall of his breeches and thrusting into Lia’s glorious body. But she was a virgin, after all, and no girl deserved to be taken in so slipshod a fashion, especially not one as innocent as Lia.
That fact left him no choice in what he must do next.
His mother and sister would be furious, of course, and it would mean that no wealthy bride would be riding to Stonefell’s rescue. But with a half-naked and utterly sated Lia sprawled in his arms, those seemed like minor concerns.
Despite all efforts to the contrary, he was beginning to think his life and Lia’s had been leading inexorably to this very moment. And to see her at this damnable ball, pursued by scoundrels and rakes, he’d understood with thundering clarity just how vulnerable she was. When she’d had the unmitigated gall to ask him to help her find a protector . . .
Even if it had taken his brain some minutes to catch up, his body had known exactly what to do—to claim Lia as his, now and forevermore.
No one knew Lia better than he did or cared for her as much. If she’d found a good man to marry, he would have accepted that. But for her to lead the life of a courtesan, a plaything passed from one man to another?
Never.
He cradled her in his arms. To finally give in to the magnetic pull between them sent an almost staggering sense of relief flooding through his body and mind. A special license was very much in order. The sooner he married Lia and got her into his bed, the better.
When she tapped him on the nose—rather hard—he blinked with surprise.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked in a voice too wary for a woman emerging from the throes of passion.
Jack resettled her, wincing slightly as her bottom pressed down on his brutally uncomfortable erection. He’d allowed his mind to briefly wander, compiling a list of what needed to be accomplished over the next few days.
Lia’s cheeks were flushed with passion, her mouth red and swollen from his kisses. Her full breasts, her slim waist, her lushly curving hips, and the mink-soft curls between rounded thighs all tempted him to throw caution to the wind and take her right now, staking his claim in no uncertain terms.
“Jack, have you gone deaf?”
Dammit. He’d done it again. “Sorry, love,” he said. He tipped her upright and went to work wrestling her stays back in place. “Let me help you get dressed.”
She batted his hands away. “I don’t need you to help me get dressed. I need you to talk to me.”
“Yes, of course. But first let’s get you safely home.”
Ignoring her resistance, he lifted her to her feet. She wobbled and grabbed his shoulders, letting out a little gasp. He kept a firm grip on her hips, intensely aware of how she trembled under his fingertips. Clearly, she’d never experienced this sort of passion before and, primitive brute that he was, he couldn’t help feeling inordinately pleased by that knowledge.
“We’re not going anywhere until you tell me what happens next,” she said, sounding breathless.
“Next, I’m taking you home.” He leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose. For some reason, that made her scowl.
“We don’t need to discuss anything tonight, pet,” he added. “I’ll call on you tomorrow morning and then we can begin making plans.”
When she yanked her stays up over her breasts, Jack had to swallow a sigh of regret.
“Unless those plans involve you becoming my protector,” she said, impatiently trying to rearrange her mangled shift, “there’s no reason to have a discussion about this . . . this incident.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Incident?”
“What else would you call it?” Her entire demeanor had become downright chilly.
Jack got to his feet, his temper rising with him, although he did his best to wrestle it under control. It had been a difficult evening for her and she was likely suffering from some sort of female reaction. But her response was decidedly not what he’d been expecting. Lia loved him and he’d made damn sure before he removed a stitch of her clothing that she’d wanted this as much as he did.
“I understand that tonight has been rather fraught,” he said carefully, “and perhaps your thinking is currently rather muddled. But you have entirely misunderstood if you think my actions were in any way offering a carte-blanche. Precisely the opposite.”
She flicked her skirts back in place. “Marriage, you mean? It’s entirely unnecessary, Jack. You did not despoil me, so you are under no obligation.” Her manner was almost cutting.
“Lia, you are hardly an obligation, as I’ve pointed out to you possibly a thousand times in the last several weeks. And I most certainly did despoil you. I distinctly recall the feel of my hands on your body. Inside your body,” he said with emphasis.
Her fiery blush was evident even in the dimly lit room. Still, from her expression, he saw she was not going to give up without a fight.
And he knew why. She’d gotten it into her head that the only way he could save Stonefell was by finding a rich wife. While he wouldn’t insult her intelligence by pretending that things might not be tricky, and that he wouldn’t be forced to make decisions he’d rather avoid, he had no intention of allowing Lia to sacrifice herself on the altar of his family’s estate.
Nor, come to think of it, was he willing to sacrifice himself in a marriage of convenience—not when he could have the woman he wanted instead.
She regarded him with a determined air. “I’m the daughter and granddaughter of courtesans. I know exactly what’s involved in losing my virginity, and my maidenhead remains firmly intact. No thanks to you,” she added in a snippy tone.
“Wait; you’re angry with me because I didn’t have my way with you?”
Her eyebrows went up in a sardonic arch. “Have your way with me? What a quaint expression, especially given the fact that we’re at a Cyprians’ ball.”
“This conversation is incredibly inappropriate,” he said rather inanely.
She let out an exasperated sigh. “Jack, I grew up on a country estate, where I spent quite a lot of time dealing with the tenant farmers and your estate manager. I know exactly how the breeding process works.”
“Bully for you, but I fail to see what difference that makes.”
For a moment, she looked as if she wanted to smack him, but then she snapped her fingers. “I completely forgot to tell you. Mr. Lindsey wrote to me a few days ago about a new breed of hogs he’s been reading about in the Yorkshire Agricultural Report. Did he mention that in his most recent letter?”
“And we are not talking about hogs either,” he said as he retrieved her mask from the floor.
“We can’t talk about sex, we can’t talk about Stonefell, and now we can’t even talk about hogs.” She waved her arms in an extravagant circle. “What the devil are we to talk about?”
He handed her the mask. “Right now, the only thing we’re talking about is getting you safely home. Then, as I said, I will call on you tomorrow and we will discuss plans for our marriage.”
“Jack, please get it through your thick skull that we are not getting married.”
“Nonsense, and we are not discussing this any further tonight,” he said firmly. “You are clearly in much too volatile a state of mind.”
His state of mind wasn’t the best either. If this fight continued, God only knew what would happen. He’d probably end up hauling her back to that chair, flipping her skirts up to her waist, and burying his cock deep in her beautiful body. That would bring an abrupt and definitive conclusion to their ridiculous discussion.
She glared at him for a few seconds longer, then slapped on her mask and began tying the ribbons, all while muttering some salty oaths. Jack made a mental note to speak to Lindsey and also his head groom once they returned to Stonefell; she clearly was spending too much time around the stables and barns.
Of course, she could have picked up such language backstage at the theater or even from her own mother, which was an appalling thought. It was time for him to put his foot down and get the poor girl under some semblance of control.
Once Lia finished tying on her mask, she gave one more upward yank on her bodice and marched to the door.
“Wait,” he hissed, leaping after her and slapping his palm onto the door. “Let me check first to make sure no one’s out there.”
She scoffed. “Don’t be such an old miss, Jack. Lord Stanley and his friends got bored and wandered off long ago.”
“Can you for once try not to be entirely reckless?” he asked, exasperated.
She let out a heavy sigh but stepped back with a look of long-suffering patience, as if she found him singularly lacking.
He cracked open the door and cautiously stuck his head out. Except for one rotund, middle-aged gentleman snoring loudly on a bench, the corridor was empty. He took Lia’s hand and drew her out into the hall.
“Told you,” she said smugly after a quick glance around.
“Could you please not talk? I would truly love to escape from this godforsaken affair without you being recognized.”
“Whatever you say, your lordship,” she said in that horrific accent she feigned.
He led her swiftly toward the front entrance hall. Astonishingly, they met very few revelers on the way. It was now well past midnight, so the celebrations in the ballroom had likely reached their debauched peak. They passed two or three late arrivals who cast curious glances, but after retrieving his hat from the footman, Jack shepherded Lia safely down the front steps of the mansion.
Their luck held when he was able to hail a fortuitously passing hackney. Hauling Lia over to the curb, he bundled her inside, gave the direction, and squeezed in after her.
She glared at him. “Was it really necessary for you to shove me in by my backside, you brute?”
“I was just trying to get you the hell away from here, you peagoose.”
She whipped a finger up to his nose. “Now, you listen to me, Jack—”
He grabbed her finger. “Do. Not.”
She yanked her hand back and subsided with a grumble, then refused to look at or speak to him on the ride back to Upper Wimpole Street. That suited him perfectly because he was convinced neither of them would have anything productive to add to the already gruesome conversation.
When they pulled up in front of the Sir Dominic’s town house, Lia waited for him on the walk, fuming, while he paid off the driver.
“Thank you for escorting me home, Lord Lendale,” she said in a frigid tone. “I do not, however, need your assistance in climbing over the back wall of the garden, so I will bid you good night.” She spun on her heel, clearly intending to head to the back alley.
Jack grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the steps of the house. “I know how much you love to engage in theatrics, but be assured that Sir Dominic and Lady Hunter know you are not asleep in your bed. That being the case, we will use the front door like civilized people.”
“I’m not smashing in there like a brazen hussy,” she snapped. “You know very well what sort of assumptions they’ll make.”
“You should have thought of that before tonight’s little escapade.” He took her by the arm and marched her up the steps, then banged the knocker.
A moment later, Smithwell, looking unusually harried, yanked open the door. “Miss Kincaid, thank goodness,” said the butler in relieved tones.
She managed a smile. “No need to worry, Smithwell. I had my faithful sheepdog with me, scaring away all the wolves.” Her smile turned ferocious as she turned to Jack. “Good night, Lord Lendale,” she said, starting to close the door in his face.
He wedged his foot against the doorframe. “I swear to God, I will take you over my knee and spank you if you try to slam that door on me.”
Her eyes went wide with outrage. Even Smithwell made a slight choking noise. Lia spun around and stormed to the staircase in the hall. Jack followed her inside.
She was halfway up the stairs when Chloe rushed out of the drawing room, her husband on her heels.
“Thank God,” Chloe exclaimed, staring down at her. “I was so worried.”
Lia faltered a bit, then trudged up the last few steps into her aunt’s embrace. All the starch seemed to go out of her as she rested her head on the older woman’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I caused you concern, Aunt Chloe. But there was never anything to worry about. I’m completely fine.”
“That may be the most demented statement I have ever heard,” Jack said.
Lia’s head reared back, her gaze furious. “Bugger you, Jack Easton.”
She pulled out of her aunt’s arms and ran up the stairs to the second floor. A few moments later the sound of a slamming door echoed through the stairwell.
“Oh dear,” Chloe said with a sigh. “I’d best go try to calm her down.” She hurried after her niece, leaving Jack and Sir Dominic to glare at each other.
“I trust you intend to bring this unfortunate situation under control, Lord Lendale,” the magistrate said in a soft tone that nonetheless carried a clear threat. “Before I’m forced to do something on my niece’s behalf that I might regret.”
“What the hell do you think I’m trying to do?” Jack growled. “If you can’t see that, bugger you, too.”
He turned on his boot heel and stalked down the stairs and out the front door. For once he’d finally gotten the last word.