Emily Baker (14 page)

“Mmmmm.” His moan vibrated against her skin as his fingers trailed over her side and down beneath her bunched skirt and petticoat. With unerring accuracy his fingers slid above her stockings to find her very center. She went breathless with anticipation.

She was wet and open to him as his fingers slid against her skin, slid inside her.

“Oh Garrett.” She couldn’t move, couldn’t get enough of him as he caressed her. All the while he suckled her breast—pulling and teasing, laving her nipple with his tongue.

Back and forth, back and forth, he used her own moisture to massage the swollen aching part of her nether regions. Long, slow, expert strokes coaxed and teased, encouraged and demanded. He continued his ministrations unchecked, undaunted, so slow and deliberate that her breath caught over and over again.

Then in a sudden rush, pleasure spilled through her, ripe and hot and overwhelming. She shuddered in his arms, again and again, hearing her own cries echo into the treetops. He released her breast and she collapsed against his shoulder.

She had never experienced anything to compare with what he had just done to her. No man had ever cared enough to have her find pleasure before he sought his own. She was stunned and speechless. She raised her head to meet his gaze.

“Lovely.” He growled the word up to her. “Absolutely lovely.”

“Garrett, I—”

”Shhh, darlin’. I’m not done with you just yet.” He turned her onto her back, tugging his jacket under her for a rudimentary blanket.

She lay still and replete, with her skirts bunched around her thighs, her breasts rosy and throbbing from his attentions; she was limp and satisfied yet already anticipating renewed desire.

He pulled off his shirt and cast it aside, offering her a glimpse of his muscled shoulders, his strong forearms, and flat stomach. She couldn’t get enough of the sight of him, of the look on his face when he looked at her. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, already aching for his kiss.

He brushed his palms over her thighs sending whorls of expectation spinning through her in their wake. Coaxing them apart, he lifted her skirts higher still until he had exposed the dark hair between her legs and the damp, sensitive skin he had just pleasured with his fingers.

“I want to see you. All of you.” Heat poured over her cheeks as he spread her legs farther still, enticing her knees to bend and open, splaying her before him.

Cool air drifted over her damp core. She shivered.

“Lovely,” he repeated, and then he dipped his head toward her. His tongue touched her flesh, and she almost screamed with the unexpected wonder.

Softly, gently he lapped her, tasting her with slow, deliberate strokes as his hand slid beneath her thighs to cup her bare buttocks. He squeezed and fondled them in the rough heat of his hands as he continued to taste her so intimately. Her hands scrambled for purchase in the soft grass as she gave herself up to the sensations and the man. Her very center whirled, and she could think of nothing but him and the magic he invoked within her.

No man had ever done such a thing. She considered herself experienced in the pleasures of the flesh, of the intimacies that passed between a man and a woman. And yet no man had ever dipped his head between her thighs to taste and tongue her at his leisure.

His tongue darted inside her, and she groaned over and over, urging him on, unable to stop herself as he made such intimate love to her.

In, out, and around, his tongue laved her. She slid her fingers into his hair, groaning as he licked her. In out, in out. She arched her back and groaned as he squeezed her buttocks and suckled her, drinking from her depths.

He tipped her still closer to him, her legs spread. He could do whatever he wished and she would do naught to stop him. He tongued her deliberately, first fast then tortuously slow, pushing deep into her, rasping his teeth against her sensitive flesh, suckling the wet response she gave him.

Then he focused on the swollen flesh he’d pleasured so recently with his fingers. He sucked the full bud into his mouth and began to gently nip, suckle, and lick until she was writhing against him, crying wordlessly until again the white hot rush raced through her, over and over, rippling through her soul to leave her drained.

She was panting, breathless, and nearly senseless when he lifted his head from her. “So you liked that then, Maura?” There was a wicked gleam in his eyes as he teased her.

“Oh, aye.” She breathed back to him, finding it hard to focus on him. Her body had never felt so alive. Every muscle, every inch of her skin, seemed alive and humming his name. “Aye, Garrett. Very much.”

“And we are not done yet,” he promised her. “I want to feel myself deep within you. To feel you clench around me and fill this place with those sweet sounds again.”

“Aye.”

He rubbed his hands gently over the length of her legs and pushed up onto his knees. When had he removed her stockings? When had he shed his boots and pants? Could she have been so lost in her own pleasures? She was awed and dumbfounded; she never lost such control, never lost herself so completely. She wanted more.

He poised his full and throbbing length between her legs, ready to give her more, ready to surge into her and seek his own pleasure at last. And she wanted to give him that pleasure, to gain from him the very cries he sought from her.

He lifted her legs and slid her ankles over his shoulders, keeping her open and wide for him as he lowered himself between her arched legs. Her knees rested over his shoulders as he bent and kissed her deeply, fully. She could taste her own sweetness on his lips, revel in the power of his tongue as it met hers, welcome the caress of his hands on her breasts. And all the while she quivered, awaiting his ultimate possession.

“Now, Maura. Right now, you are mine.” The words came low and vibrant against the pulse point on her neck as he suckled her there.

“Aye.”

As he had claimed her with his words, his engorged, manly length filled her at last, sliding deep within her sensitive aching flesh.

“Oh yes,” she groaned. With each new release she’d been certain the pleasure he gave her couldn’t get any better, but now, sensitized by the repeated orgasms he had wrought, her body sang at his invasion.

Rich, sweet friction ached and throbbed inside her. She’d never felt anything like it. Each thrust filled her completely, touching her very womb with his manhood as he withdrew and thrust, withdrew and thrust. Twin gasps and groans twined in the early evening air as his body claimed her and her body clenched around him.

He kissed her deeply. His tongue tangling with hers as their bodies strained together in an ageless struggle he had somehow made new all over again.

With her legs straddling his shoulders and his flesh deep within her, she was open and filled as never before. She clung to his arms and kissed him back, taking all he had to give her and demanding more.

“Mine,” he repeated, his gaze pinning hers.

“Aye.” Nothing mattered but this man, this moment.

“Maura.”

“Aye.” This man.

“Mine.” He affirmed his complete possession.

His movements grew in strength and quickness, thrusting quicker, faster, hotter, harder. She was lost to the rhythm he demanded, lost to the pleasure he gave and took as he loved her.

And then the pressure building and building inside could hold no longer. She cried out and groaned, bucking against him as the waves rippling over her took control. He joined her in the aftermath, shuddering against her as the hot flood of his satisfaction spilled inside her.

She’d never known such lovemaking. Tears pricked at the backs of her eyes as their panted breathing mingled with the whispering leaves overhead.

The word brought home to her the truth that she was out of her depth. She’d made love with a man with no commitments. Nothing lay between them except the pleasure they’d given each other and the words he’d spoken to claim her in the midst of their passions. It was both frightening and liberating.

What incredible freedom came from making love to a man purely because she wanted to—not because she was beholden, not because he could help her financially, but because she wanted him. Somehow that freedom made her more vulnerable than she had been before.

Even resting beneath him, in the green grass of the glade, was different from lying with any other man. She didn’t mind the feel of him atop her, still within her. In fact, she enjoyed the feel of their bodies still joined together in the aftermath.

After a moment she heard him chuckle, weakly.

He was laughing. She couldn’t help but smile. That indeed was a new reaction.

“What are you laughing about?”

“You,” he told her, then lifted his head to beam those incredible green eyes down at her. “Me.”

“Why?”

“Because I had no intention of seducing you when I offered you a chance to rest. And I cannot believe you feel the tiniest bit rested. Do you?”

She smiled too, and then laughed. Her body clenched around him with the movement, and she had the pleasure of watching him groan and sigh in reaction.

“Actually,” she told him truthfully, “I feel much better, thank you.”

“Ah. So now you wish maybe to thank me for the suggestion?”

“Indeed.” She smiled up at him and traced her fingers over his brow. “Do you offer this to all weary women of your acquaintance?”

“Nay, love. Not all.” The words were spoken softly and with surprising intensity. “Just you.”

He dipped his head to kiss her and something inside her heart broke open as though the barriers he’d breeched with his first touch had disintegrated completely, leaving her vulnerable in ways she hadn’t been in many years. It was frightening and overwhelming and something she wasn’t ready to deal with. Not just yet.

He lifted his head.

“Garrett, I—”

“Shhh.” He placed a finger over her lips. In the distance they could hear the sound of multiple hoofbeats, horses drawing nearer by the second. “We are about to get company.”

He pushed to his feet, leaving her almost painfully empty. He held his hand out to her. For a moment she was tempted to stay right where she was and just admire the sight of him—tall, lean, muscular, and naked—but sanity prevailed. She accepted his hand. He pulled her to her feet.

“Lovely as you look, Maura, you had best get dressed.”

“And you.” She arched a brow as her skirts settled to her ankles.

She bent to retrieve her blouse and jacket, and he reached around her to pluck them from the ground. He pulled her back against his chest. Heat from his skin suffused her. His breath was hot against the back of her head. His hands cupped her bare breasts for just a moment.

Then he turned her in his arms and dipped his head to kiss her one more time. “Time is just too short.”

“Aye.” She shrugged into her clothing and struggled to adjust it as he made short work of his own. In moments they were dressed and smoothing the last telltale wrinkles from their clothing as the horses thundered to a stop beside the glade. A whistle rang out into the air.

Garrett winked at her and returned the sound.

The redstart’s call cut the early evening air just as the approaching hoofbeats thundered to a stop next to the glade.

Garrett turned to smile at Maura before offering the greeting in return. He’d never felt such profound regret at the arrival of his men. His time with Maura had been far too short.

Under other circumstances he would have been grateful for his men’s adherence to rendezvous timing.

Maura Fitzgerald was a woman to make a man forget all of his responsibilities, big or small. Making love to her had obliterated everything but the responsive feel of her body and the passionate sounds of pleasure she made beneath him. Echoes of those sounds hummed on inside him as the trees overhead whispered with the secrets they’d just witnessed.

He bit back a sigh.

This was not how he should have been with her. Here in the open with no time and no finesse to make love to her as thoroughly as she deserved. Quick heat in the woods, interrupted just at the finish, should have been reserved for a woman less . . . less . . . important. There was a thought startling enough to give him pause. Somehow, when he hadn’t been watching, Maura Fitzgerald had become important to him.

He managed not to glance back at her as this realization took hold and Sean and Liam approached.

“Garrett. Maura.”

Sean nodded to them both as Liam brought up the rear. Garrett had trained these men himself; they habitually observed their surroundings and the company they joined. Sean was a master. Garrett could see the speculation gathering behind both of their eyes. He shook his head, telling them the question was not open for discussion.

Sean cocked an eyebrow, but other than a quick exchange of glances between them, neither allowed their thoughts to show on their faces.

“What did you discover in your travels?”

“Well . . .” Liam held out a bag he had slung over his shoulder. “For one thing there’s a fine batch of apples to be had at McGillan’s farm. And the cheese to be had from Mrs. McFinn is something to speak of as well.”

He opened the bag to produce said apples and cheese.

“Oh.” Maura’s appreciative reaction coincided with the immediate grumble of Garrett’s stomach. Neither of them had eaten and this looked too good to pass by.

“Obviously an important report.” Sean noted as he appropriated the bag from Liam and offered the apples and cheese to Maura.

“Thank you.” She took them and offered an apple to Garrett.

Garrett crunched into his apple with relish. It was sweet and tart and would go perfectly with cheese. He nodded and gestured for them to continue. “What else?”

“That is about it for food stuffs other than the wine.”

“Oh yes, the wine.” Liam pulled a small jug from another sack.

“Wine fit to be shared, I’m assured.” He popped the small thick cork and took a swig before offering it around.

Maura’s gaze danced over the bottle rim as she drank deeply. It was quite obvious this was not a dining venue she was used to, but she seemed to enjoy it nonetheless.

The sight of her swigging wine straight from the jug, munching into her apple with a piece of cheese in her palm, without the slightest bit of pretense at nicer manners, warmed him straight through and made him wish once more for just a wee bit more time without interruption.

She was disheveled from their lovemaking. There was no denying that. Dark curls were still loose from her hastily rewrapped chignon. They dangled about her neck and along the pale curve of her cheek. And despite her careful sweeping movements to smooth her skirts and bodice, there were wrinkles and bunches in evidence. He could only imagine the coinciding dishevelment evident in his own appearance. What a pair they must make at the moment. Bless Sean’s and Liam’s discretion.

Her deep gray gaze shimmered up to his, and he wondered what she was thinking.

“—in town, but that did not seem to get us anywhere either. I think it bears looking into from a closer perspective.”

“Aye, we need to examine this property from all angles,” Sean said. “Something stinks in that general direction. And as my old nurse was so very fond of saying, ‘If somethin’ stinks ye canna leave it be’ or it will just get worse.”

“Oh, I can well imagine her saying that in regard to ye.” Liam may not have had the advantages Sean enjoyed, but he was bright and self-educated.

Garrett realized with a start he’d lost all track of the report he’d asked for. He had no idea what they were talking about. With a mental shake he turned his gaze from Maura and focused once more on Liam.

“I’m sorry, what stinks?”

“Well, obviously Sean stinks or his old nurse wouldn’t have had anything to reference in the first place. Where did ye lose us?” Raised eyebrows and an ultra-polite tone accompanied the question.

For a moment Garrett was tempted to thrash the two of them where they stood—raised eyebrows, controlled smirks, and all.

“Somewhere just before Sean began to stink.” He offered in a tart tone as Maura handed him a wedge of cheese.

“Right. Well after riding the countryside in search of various types of wine and cheese—”

“—and apples.”

“Aye,” Sean started again. “We questioned a variety of people in Rathdrum. The priest, the dry goods store owner and his wife, the tapman who happened to be at the farrier’s, and various tenants and dairymen along the way. Except for the usual stories of highwaymen, raiders, and another missing girl . . .”

“One of the dairymen’s daughters,” Liam supplied. “She’s but fourteen, missing about a week after taking biscuits to her gran’s.”

“The best information we got was in the tavern we found halfway between Glendalough and Rathdrum. It’s not far from here—The Wild Boar. Several patrons mentioned strange doings, comings and goings at odd hours and people they didn’t know. It all comes back to an isolated hunting lodge up in the midst of the Wicklow Mountains. And hear this, Liam forgot to mention this earlier. The property is located just beyond the turn toward a mountain in the range known locally as the Devil’s Peak.

That perked up Garrett’s ears. That was one of the locations they sought. Maura must have been thinking the same thing. Her hand touched his forearm.

“I was getting there,” Liam spoke up. “The tavern’s regulars mentioned the place at least a couple of times. You’d swear they wanted to cross themselves at the mention, though. No one seems to know who owns the property or what they use it for, save the occasional party. Even the servants there keep to themselves.”

“Isolated. Few if any neighbors. Far enough from Dublin, but not too far. Add to that the proximity to the Devil’s Peak.” Garrett spoke his thoughts aloud. “It is a start. Good work. We will have to at least go and look at the place. Ideas?”

“Well, it sounded like they only hire certain people,” Liam started. “No locals.”

“Just those known to be able to keep things to themselves,” Sean chimed in.

“So there’s not much likelihood that we’ll be able to get anyone hired in as help in order to search the place. Which leaves—”

“—broken-down travelers,” Sean finished.

“Not the most reliable way of searching a property.” Garrett frowned as he mulled their report.

“If this place has any connection to Jane’s disappearance, time must be running out. It has been so long.” Sean’s worry broke through. “What other options do we have?”

“This is a long way from where she disappeared.”

“Broken-down travelers?” Maura passed him the bottle of wine.

He took a quick drink before answering. “Aye. Broken-down travelers is a plan in which we proceed to this hunting lodge, pretend to have had some kind of trouble with our coach.”

“Axle trouble,” offered Sean.

“Or harness trouble,” Liam supplied.

“Either works well. So does breaking a wheel. It would be bad manners to turn us away completely. No one turns away travelers who come to his door for aid. Not unless they have something to hide.”

“And what happens when they realize we don’t really have any trouble with our coach?” Maura’s brow had furrowed with concern. Garrett had to remind himself that she wasn’t a regular member of the Green Dragon’s men and therefore had no experience with their exploits.

“No one really questions the trouble. What matters is that for whatever amount of time our unsuspecting host allows us to be on his land we will be able to take a good close look at this hunting lodge and determine if it is the place we are searching for.”

“Oh.” She nodded and nibbled her lip for just a moment. “We do not seem to have a coach.”

“No problem there, Maura. We’ll go back into The Wild Boar and hire theirs.”

“It will be dark by the time we get there tonight.” Sean looked at the sky. “So we’ll stay the night at the inn and set off for the mountains in daylight. The inn was small but looked clean and comfortable enough.”

Maura’s gaze flew to his as Liam and Sean continued to flesh out the plan for the coach and the best approach to take in order to reach the lodge. Garrett was lost in her gaze, so smoky and beautiful. He knew those eyes now, knew the hazy glow of pleasure, knew the deep softness in the aftermath. There were promises in those eyes, promises that could be acted upon in the comfort of the inn so easily proposed in the planning just moments ago.

“Done,” he said, bringing an end to the conversation. “We will go back to the inn. If it is small, perhaps Maura and I should pose as husband and wife?”

He watched her face as he made his proposal, waiting for some sign that what had happened between them had been merely a thing of the moment and not something she wanted to repeat. She nodded almost imperceptibly save for the soft springy movement of the curls gracing her cheek.

“And we will be your servants.” Sean bent to pick up the jug and the bag of apples. “We already mentioned we’d been sent scouting property in the area for our master and his new bride. We can join the company in the tap once more and see what other details we can find.”

“Right,” Liam affirmed. “We’ll get the horses, Garrett?”

“Aye.” His gaze was still locked with Maura’s as the men turned to go about their duties.

“An inn sounds . . . restful,” she offered quietly, but there was soft glow in her eyes that promised anything but rest.

“Aye.” He closed the distance between them and took her hands in his. “I am sorry to—”

“Please do not apologize. Not for anything.” She leaned up and pressed her mouth to his.

“It is merely the imposition and the supposition that I apologize for, Maura.” He pulled her into his arms and planted a more thorough kiss on those soft and willing lips. “All else is far too grand to need apology.”

“Imposition and supposition?”

“Aye.” He kissed her again, taking whatever advantage he could of the few moments it would take Sean and Liam to gather the horses. “I am imposing on your goodwill by taking you to the inn without asking. I am supposing that you will agree to masquerade as my spouse to accomplish what needs to be accomplished. For this I apologize.” He kissed her again. “But aside from those things, I fully intend to take you to the nearest bed and make long, slow, thorough love to you. And for that I will make no apology.”

“Ahh, then your apology is accepted. But only because of what you hold out as my reward.”

 

 

Two hours later, as a full moon rose into the soft, ebony depths of the sky, they were safely ensconced as overnight guests at The Wild Boar at the foot of the Wicklow Mountains, midway between Glendalough and Rathdrum.

Sean and Liam were below at the bar amidst the other visitors and the employees at the inn enjoying a pint of home brew with their ears alerted for any useful information. Normally he would have spent the night much as they were. But tonight was different.

He turned from the open window.

Maura stood before him awash in moonlight. A tentative smile curved one corner of her lips. The supper they had shared below, stew and bread, had been brief and filled with long silences. Then they had retired. He’d hung up his jacket and pulled off his boots and awaited her return from the necessary.

Now, in the quiet of their borrowed room, he couldn’t help wondering if she regretted what had passed between them in the glade. Had their lovemaking been as satisfying for her as it had been for him? Was what they shared more than hot coupling? No other woman had ever touched him this way. Never before had lovemaking mattered beyond the satisfactions of the moment.

“Maura—”

“Garrett.” She stripped off her jacket and took a step toward him. “Supper was . . . satisfying and this room appears . . . acceptable. But I find the evening somewhat . . . lacking up to this point.”

“Lacking?”

“Aye.” She came closer and slid her fingers into her hair, loosening the pins that held it until it flowed over her shoulders in long, dark waves. “You made certain . . . promises earlier this day. Promises I find myself anticipating. Eagerly.”

After another step closer, she looked beyond him to the window, then over to the bed. “Although the room is comforting to have instead of the open wood, I am still suffering anticipation, instead of—”

“Satisfaction?” His mouth went dry. She was so lovely. And willing to meet him more than halfway. Why did he still hesitate?

“Aye.” Her fingers worked the buttons of his shirt as a peat fire crackled in the hearth. She spread his shirt open by sliding her fingers over his chest. “Mmmmm, that’s a start.”

She leaned up and pressed her mouth to his. “Make love to me, Garrett. Love me as I have never been loved before.”

“Aye.”

Questions crowded his mind, but now was not the time to ask them. He pulled her closer and took her mouth with his.

She was so damned soft, tasting of wine and spices, tasting of Maura. And she would be his, all night, without interruption. That was enough to burn away any questions and concerns that might linger. He worked the buttons and tapes of her blouse and skirt as he kissed her. She kissed him back and helped, until her garments draped the floor about her feet, leaving her in nothing but soft, creamy skin and moonlight.