Emily Baker (15 page)

He cupped her buttocks and drew her against him as he kissed her again, deeply. Her hips cupped his erection. She fit perfectly against him. Her breasts pressed to his chest, full and round and tempting. He leaned back and then sat against the window seat; she came with him, her legs parting to slide against his as she sat in his lap.

He groaned at the pain and pleasure of having her fit so intimately against him with naught save his trousers to keep them apart. He cupped her breasts and bent his head to taste them, nibbling and licking her taut nipples as he fondled her.

“You are beautiful,” he told her, meaning every word. “So very beautiful and so very soft.”

“Garrett.” She whispered his name as her fingers slid into his hair to cup him to her as he tasted and suckled her. “Oh Garrett.”

She squirmed atop him, responsive to his touch as he laved her nipples and rasped his teeth against her tenderness. He kneaded her buttocks, pulling her more tightly against his hardness. He felt near to bursting despite the fabric barrier between them.

She was naked and in his arms—his to do with as he pleased.

He slid his fingers between her legs, down into the dark triangle of her hair to find the wet heat he’d enjoyed earlier that day. She sucked in a gasp at his touch as he found her slippery softness and massaged her.

“Oh yes, oh.” She squirmed against him as he rubbed her and suckled her. Her pleasure cries became wordless urgings as he parted her soft, wet folds and slid his fingers into her hot velvety sheath. She groaned and squirmed and groaned again as he began to stroke her deeply.

“I’m going to fill you,” he told her, watching her flushed face as he stroked her. “Over and over. Again and again.”

“Aye.” She groaned again. “Oh aye.”

“And then I’m going to watch you as I watch you now. I’m going to enjoy each little gasp I pull from you.”

“Garrett . . . oh, Garrett . . . please.”

He bent his head, teased her breasts with his teeth again as he increased the invasive movements of his hand. In moments she began to shudder in his arms and cry out wordlessly in surrender.

She was too beautiful for words. His throat was dry and his chest tight with desire. She squirmed in his lap, rubbing herself against his burgeoning erection, teasing him even as he wrung the cries from her.

“I lose such control of myself.” Wonderment touched the words so very softly voiced as she rested her head on his shoulder, her body trembling against him, her breathing fast and warm against his neck. Her taut breasts grazed his chest enticingly.

“Aye, it’s one of the things I like best about making love to you.” His own voice came still harsh and tight with the desires she drew from him.

She gave a breathless little laugh that ended on a half-moan. “Then enjoy it well, Garrett Lynch, for it happens only with you.” Open honesty etched her words, cutting them deep into his heart.

Heat thundered through him. With so few words she had thrown the men who had been her previous lovers between them and disposed of them as nothing of consequence, because only with him did she lose control of herself.

“Dear God, woman, you drive a man to distraction.” He caught her lips with his, tasting total surrender, total passion in her response as her tongue did a slow dance against his own. For now, for whatever totally unknown reason, she was his—his completely.

“That would be the point,” she whispered, a smile lighting those soft gray eyes.

“Come, sir, you have me at a disadvantage.” She pushed to her feet to stand bold and beautiful in nothing but soft, satiny skin. Her hair rippled long and dark and springy over her shoulders, caressing the length of her arms, her breasts, the rounded curve of her hip.

“A disadvantage?”

“Aye.” In a quick, graceful motion, she knelt before him and began unbuttoning his smalls.

“I am fully as naked as God intended. Yet, you have not so accommodated me.” Her smile mesmerized him as she worked the fastenings and spread the fabric open. He sprang from the confines, rigid and aching.

He couldn’t breathe.

“And this you have kept hidden from me. For shame.” She teased him as her fingers reached out and traced the length of his shaft. Soft, teasing fingers.

Surely she would drive him out of his skull. Pleasure shuddered through him as she traced him up and down and up again. He couldn’t move. He could only watch her and enjoy the power she had over him.

She dipped her head toward him. Blood thundered in his veins as her mouth touched him. Her soft, full lips parted to engulf the aching head of his shaft.

“Oh God.” He pleaded for sanity as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes, lost to the feel of her warm mouth covering him. He gripped the window seat

“Maura.” He could do naught but name her as she murmured her pleasure. The sound filled his ears, humming against his flesh and deep into his very core.

“Dear God, Maura.”

She traced his length with her lips, her tongue. Up, down, up, down. Maddeningly slow torture. Pleasure he could neither stop nor deny.

He slid his fingers into her long silky hair, very lightly cupping her head as she continued her slow, mesmerizing ministrations. She was sucking him, taking him so deep into her mouth, licking and tasting and enjoying him. He traced her shoulders and slid his hands downward to cup and weigh the resilient flesh of her breasts.

“Mmmmm.” She moaned again as he fondled her, and his own groan echoed hers.

Pressure built higher and hotter inside him. He’d never known such pleasure as the feel of her lips on him, the unselfish giving she offered. Her fingers slid lower to cup him. He groaned again as she fondled him and massaged him so intimately.

“Maura, you’d best not continue or . . . or . . .”

He couldn’t seem to finish the warning as she began to quicken her movements. Up, down, up, down. Her tongue flicked over him, laving and darting as she suckled him and rimmed the aching head of his shaft.

“Aye.” She whispered her breath against his tip, and then her mouth consumed him again.

She knew. She knew he would not be able to stop himself from spilling into her mouth and still she continued. Her fingers were nimble and quick, caressing him with gentle pressure as her mouth sucked and licked and sucked and licked.

“Ahhhh.” He lost himself to the pleasure she wrung from him, unable to stop as she pulled him deeply into her mouth. Hot seed spurted from him as overwhelming pleasure consumed him so he could do naught but shudder over and over again.

Stunned and drained, he felt his blood pound in his ears as she lifted her head from him. She smiled a satisfied womanly smile full of knowledge and power. She’d just made him lose the same self-control she had lost.

Incredible.

Even more incredible, he could already feel the first distant stirrings of renewed desire. He’d never wanted a woman the way he wanted her.

He lifted her to her feet as he pushed to his own. She melted against him as he bent his head and pressed his lips to her forehead. Her arms twined around his neck and he swept the length of her slender back with his hands. God, she was soft and warm and his.

He lifted her in his arms and carried her toward the bed, determined to take advantage of the big four-poster. He let her legs slide down against his own when he reached the edge. Her body slid so intimately and completely against his. She fit in all the right places.

“I’m going to love you all night,” he promised as he lifted his head to meet the sparkle in the depths of her eyes.

“All night. That sounds just about right,” she offered back to him.

He drew her onto the bed with him. Wide and soft, it cradled them together as he kissed her and touched her.

He was determined to love her slowly. He lay her back against the quilted coverlet and let his gaze roam the length of her body as he smoothed his palm over her soft skin. “You are so very beautiful, so very soft. I could never get tired of touching you. Every sweet inch.”

He bent his head to taste her lips again and then to kiss a long, slow path down over her neck, her breasts, the curve of her stomach, and into the dark warm vee at the juncture of her thighs.

She sighed and parted for him, allowing him to dip his head to taste her. He tongued her slowly, and she sighed. He nipped and nibbled and tasted her, enjoying the intimacy of having her so open and ready and willing for whatever he wanted to do.

He thrust his tongue into her and sucked her sweetness as she moaned and moved against him, so very responsive to even the tiniest flick of his tongue. She was aching and ready when he lifted his head, determined to prolong the pleasure for both of them. She writhed against the coverlet as he blew a light breath against her parted womanly folds.

“Oh Garrett.”

“Aye, love.” Then he turned her onto her stomach.

She rolled without resistance, presently the lovely sight of her pale, well-rounded bottom—her smooth back, her long dark hair fanned across her. He coaxed her legs wide apart so that he could see her slick folds glistening between her pale thighs.

“So very lovely,” he told her as he trailed his palms slowly over her calves, the backs of her knees, and up the backs of her thighs.

She shuddered as he brushed his thumbs against the damp heat between her legs, massaging, prodding, teasing, even as he ran his hands upward to fondle her lushly rounded bottom.

He cupped her, weighing each lush cheek and then sliding downward again to prod his thumbs against her—teasing, testing, dipping into her heat and then back out again to repeat the process. She squirmed as he caressed her, and he smiled, knowing her pleasure would be all the sweeter for the wait.

He bent toward her and began to kiss and nibble one fully rounded cheek as his fingers continued to dip and tease. She squirmed against him and a moan escaped her as he nipped her flesh with his teeth and then dipped his head to tease and taste her damp folds.

His own desire rose and thickened with each of her pleasure moans, each sigh she released. Her response to each touch, each taste, made hot blood rage in his veins.

Still, he held back.

When at last she was writhing at his every touch, begging him for release, he lowered himself against her. He pushed his swollen heat deep into her softness as he pulled her hips up to meet him.

She closed around him, clutching his shaft deep inside her. A long shuddering sigh of satisfaction escaped her. He nearly burst right there and then.

Twin groans split the air as he filled her and withdrew, filled her and withdrew, teasing them both further by refusing to give in just yet to the need for rhythmic movement. She pushed back against him as he thrust into her, forcing him deeper.

He groaned and ground himself against the soft cushion of her buttocks as he slid his hands to grip her hips, feeling himself so deeply sheathed inside her.

“Faster, Garrett, take me faster,” she begged, both plea and a demand in one.

It was enough to force his control over the edge.

He gave into the need driving them both as he quickened his thrusts, taking her faster, deeper, harder.

He slid one hand up to cup her breast as he pumped himself against her softness again and again and again. She cried out and shuddered beneath him, her body bucking against him as her sheath clutched and rippled around him.

Then he followed her into the welcoming abyss of dark, satisfying pleasure.

In the aftermath, they slept, still cradled together.

Morning’s earliest gray light edged beneath the curtain and flowed across the length of the bedroom’s dark wood floor. Garrett was instantly awake and alert.

Too many years spent in the open, with lives dependent on his awareness and his ability to react, prevented him from dozing too peacefully, soft downy bed or no. Immediate memories flooded him, giving value and depth to the warmth and softness snuggled at his side.

Maura. Maura Fitzgerald.

Images from the previous evening burned into him as clear and vibrant as a brand. He had loved her and been loved in return until they exhausted themselves, only to dream and then wake in the dark depths of the night locked once more in each others arms, hungrily satisfying the ardent demands of their bodies.

He smiled and glanced down at her. Shadowy sleep yet hovered over her features, making her seem somehow even softer, defenseless. Her vulnerability reached inside him and lodged in his chest with a bittersweet mixture of pleasure and pain.

Each time he touched her tightened the need inside him to touch her again. Feelings he’d never thought to have for her, for anyone, swam just below the surface. Now was not the time to involve himself with a woman, any woman, on a permanent level. And yet...

He should rouse himself. He should dress and join his men below. There were plans to be addressed. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave Maura’s side. Not just yet. With a slow sigh, he lay back against the pillows and savored the warmth of her curled against him. Even asleep as she was now, she fit perfectly against him, as though she comprised the missing parts of him.

He had never sought to feel this way about any woman, especially not now, when his commitment to being the Green Dragon was at its zenith. The Green Dragon’s ring and sword could pass from man to man as injury or other obligation required. But he knew he was not meant for managing estates or a family, so he had never sought the regular company of women beyond the physical need for satisfaction. If the time was right and the woman willing, he’d not turn down a little companionship. But Maura was different.

The redstart whistle from the small country inn’s courtyard below drew him from this thought. Duty called, putting a hasty end to further speculation.

He reluctantly slid from the bed, padded to the window, and returned the call. Liam smiled up at him, his red hair looking brighter as the pink of dawn joined the gray light. The man offered a quick salute. Garrett nodded in return before turning back toward the bedroom.

First, he would need to find his clothes, discarded so carelessly the evening before. He glanced toward the bed to find a pair of solemn gray eyes watching him.

“Garrett.” Soft color washed over her cheeks as she sat up a little in the bed, clutching the coverlet to her. Was it his imagination or did his name sound especially sweet whispered over her lips.

“Aye.” He padded back to her and dropped a gentle kiss against her brow. She was soft and warm, and he longed to slide back into the bed beside her. He resisted.

“What are you doing?”

“I have got to dress and then we will be on our way.”

“What?” She pushed upright in the bed. The quilt slid to her waist, baring her breasts beneath her hair rioting around her in glossy waves.

“Ah,
muirnín.
You make it all too difficult.”

The color in her cheeks washed to a rosier hue, but she smiled and drew the sheet up against her. “It is your fault. I have nothing to cover myself with.”

“Aye? I seem to recall you managed the disrobing for us both. I merely went along with your scheme.”

He pulled his trousers on and fastened them, trying not to remember the feel of her fingers on him last night after she had completed the unfastening.

“You cannot go without me.” She pushed to her feet, dragging the bed linens with her. Her standing in naught but a quilted coverlet and sleep-tousled hair did nothing to quell his memories of the night before or the desires already stirring to life this morning. He struggled to clear the tightness from his throat before answering.

“We will return for you once we have finished ascertaining that our destination has anything to do with our search.”

“No.” She crossed to stand in front of him, determination evident in every line of her body despite her disarray and the attractive length of leg revealed by her inadequate covering. “If you find your Jane, or any other woman, you may have need of another woman—of me. She will have been through a nightmare, Garrett. Think of Mary.”

“You have a point.” He sighed and kissed her very briefly as he finished buttoning his shirt. “And more than once, both about my teasing and the likelihood of anyone we find needing a gentle smile and unthreatening touch. But I cannot like having you placed in any danger.”

“This is my expedition,” she told him, her firm tone belying the alluring image standing before him.

“That it was. That was before.”

“Before what? Before we made love? Before you decided I could not take care of myself? I would like to remind you, Garrett Lynch, I have been taking care of myself for quite some time now.”

“Aye.” He couldn’t fault her there. As soft and vulnerable as she had looked only a short while ago, curled in sleep, she had been a woman on her own, taking care of herself and providing help to others long before he met her. She was capable and intelligent. So why did he have this overwhelming need to shelter her from harm?

“If we are right, I need to be there,” she repeated in a softer tone that was no less firm.

“Aye.”

He stroked his fingers over her cheek. She was so fiercely passionate in her need to protect this unknown young woman should they find her, just as she was with the young women already under her care.

He was accustomed to dealing with men—men at all levels of competence. Men united with a common need to help others, the same need that burned in her. He should not let his own selfish need to protect her stop her.

“You had best get dressed.”

She nodded, a smile lighting her face as she bent to retrieve her clothes from the floor where they’d fallen as she’d shed them last night.

The enticing glimpses of the thigh and breast he caught as she rushed to comply only served to remind him why he had wanted to leave her here where she was safe—leave her to keep her safe for him.

“I’ll order breakfast,” he threw over his shoulder as he strode out the door. One more look at her and he’d be tempted to lock the door behind him.

“Just tea for me, please,” he heard her ask despite the door between them.

At the bottom of the steps the tavern owner’s wife waited. He smiled at her.

“Thank you, Mrs. Doyle” He accepted the coffee she held out to him and sipped. Hot and strong.

“I hope ye find what ye’re looking fer, sir. But don’t let yer men take ye ta that place in the mountains. There’s a lovely stud farm fer sale not too far outside Glendalough. There’s a lake, the beauty of the mountains and a new stable and training paddock—jest the thing fer ye. My brother works there. Ask fer Tim, Tim Martin, and tell him Abby sent ye.”

“It sounds eminently suitable, Mrs. Doyle. But tell me, why is the property nearer the mountains not equally desirable?”

“There’s rumors about that place. Strange doin’s, if ye ask me. That’s all I know. Steer toward Glendalough.” Her eyes darted up the steps. “Yer lady is here.”

She nodded toward the stairs, and he turned to see Maura at the top, chignon tucked regally into place, bearing her now severely wrinkled skirt and jacket with a grace sure to be envied, every inch the lady the innkeeper’s wife expected her to be.

“I am ready.” She accepted a cup of tea from their hostess.

“Aye. So you are.” He fought to stifle the warnings ringing inside him over taking her along, but he was willing to trust her. She said she would keep herself safe, and he would believe her.

She finished her mug of tea quickly, and he escorted her out into the yard and around toward the stables where Sean and Liam were waiting, leaning in seemingly negligent repose against the coach they’d borrowed for their plan. Liam straightened as they approached and nudged Sean without preamble.

“Ah, top of the morning to ye both.” Sean’s buoyant greeting was accompanied by a full-bodied smirk.

“And to both of you as well,” Maura answered before Garrett could come up with anything sufficiently quelling. Her even tone managed to disarm his teasing intent before it could blossom in full.

Amazing.

“Are we ready?”

“Aye. The Doyles are allowing us use of the coach. And we’ve sent the stable lad back to Dublin to roust the others. They should be in this vicinity by nightfall.”

“That works well.” In their experience most successful rescues came off better at night. At this point, although they assumed they were going to very soon be working a rescue mission, they had yet to determine they were even targeting the right location.

“Shall we be off?” He turned to Maura and offered his arm. She placed her hand on it and allowed him to lead her to the coach. Sean opened the door; Liam waved his hand with the flourish. She smiled at their nonsense and stepped up into the coach.

“And now?”

“Now, lady, sit back and enjoy the ride. It will take us an hour or two to reach our destination.”

“Very well.” She nodded and settled back against the cushioned interior.

Sean climbed up into the coachman’s seat and Liam fetched his horse, intent on taking up the rear position. Garrett would join Sean overhead. Giving in to impulse he stepped up onto the coach steps and leaned inward.

“We will warn you when we approach.”

“Thank you.”

“Maura—”

“Aye?”

Asking her to stay behind one more time hovered on his tongue. He bit the urge back, closed the distance between them, and gave her a long, slow kiss.

Maura smiled to herself as he closed the coach door and was gone before he could say anything further. What a contradiction Garrett Lynch was proving to be. A strong leader, compassionate, but determined. A man of passion and convictions. Where was the man she’d expected when he was first invited to Freddie’s card party? The wastrel and drunkard?

He was not that man.

A quick shout set the coach to rolling, and she rested her head back against the cushions. Images swept over her in varying degrees of heat. Their lovemaking last night had been so very satisfying in ways she had never experienced before. Satisfied hardly covered what she had felt, or what he had made possible for her to feel.

She’d always taken pleasure in the act. If she’d not been able to enjoy the relations she had allowed, her life up to this point would have been a small, well-furnished corner of hell.

But she never suspected the passion and fire, the incredible feelings, inherent in making love to a man purely because he wanted her and she wanted him in return. There was no thought, no planning, no deliberation, nothing between them except the desire to please and be pleased.

She shifted against the seat cushions as swirls of lingering sensation cascaded over her. Her eyelids drifted closed as she remembered Garrett’s every touch. His kisses. His smiles. And so very much more.

The realization hit her quite suddenly. Not only was she no longer in Dublin, no longer Freddie’s, or anyone else’s, mistress, she was far from the potion she took so religiously from Mrs. Kelly’s hands each morning.

An icy chill swept over her, wiping away the warmth of her reverie over yesterday’s extraordinary encounters with Garrett Lynch. Mrs. Kelly’s potion of herbs and tea kept her from conceiving a child. Among the many rules that had made it possible to conduct her life with a minimum of guilt had been Dorothy Kelly’s assurance that the women of her family had used the very same potion for generations and had never had an untimely pregnancy.

But here, far from Dorothy’s herb closet, she’d given in to the passion she felt for Garrett without thought or planning. In the overwhelming seductive freedom of choosing him, she had forgotten the need for caution.

Each passionate encounter sifted through her mind. Five, six times? Or was it seven? They’d made love over and over again and not once had she considered the possible consequences to what they were doing with such abandon.

She groaned, feeling the press of time and the narrowing window of safety afforded to prevent something she wasn’t ready to face. Edges of panic attacked her nerve endings. How long would it take them to determine if the lodge they were heading toward was even the place they were looking for? And if it wasn’t, what then?

She blew out a slow breath and turned her gaze outward to the gradual passing of scenery, deep green hills sloped into the nothingness of the early morning fog. She had time yet, surely. Time to return to Mrs. Kelly, drink the potion, and not worry. If she knocked on the stage coach roof or called through the little hatch designed for occupants and coachman to communicate with one another, if she went back to the inn and road through the day and into the night, if she abandonded the girls she feared were being abused nearby, left Garrett—

Enough
—she was a woman, not some green girl to panic over pregnancy the very first time she lay with a man. For all she knew, after all this time, she wasn’t even capable of conceiving a child.

A child with dark hair and vibrant green eyes.

His child.

“Enough!” The protest escaped her aloud. They hit a bump and she bit her lip. She was used to dealing with any number of problems on a daily basis. This possibility would have to get in line. She would see to this problem when they all returned to Dublin, until then she needed to concentrate on the problems ahead—whatever they were.