Hot Silk (25 page)

“There must be another way out,” Sally was saying.

“Yes,” Grace declared. “The front door.”

“With the guard there?”

“You have your cosh and we can easily distract him. Besides, he’s probably drank that entire bottle of brandy by now.”

“I don’t know if we can distract him enough to blithely walk out the door with a prisoner,” Annie declared.

“Do not underestimate yourselves,” Grace advised. Such wild excitement flashed in her green eyes, they seemed to glow in the faint light.

Devlin laughed. “True enough,” he agreed as he slipped his arm around Grace’s waist. He cradled her, drawing her warmth into his tired and sore body, feeling as though a flame had ignited in his soul. It was still an insane risk. There were other guards. But that fire fanned through him, burning in the mad way it once had when he’d been a pirate.

Grace did that to him—she gave him the same fiery excitement he had once had to risk his life to achieve.

Grace tipped her face up to his. “I know the passageways that will keep us away from the cells as we approach.”

He grinned. “Right, then. To the front door.”

It had been too easy, but Devlin was determined not to spoil Grace’s fun.

As she sank back against the blue velvet seat opposite him, safe inside the plain black carriage, she sighed happily. “We’re safe. And free!”

She threw her hands up behind her so they rested against the soft, smooth velvet with wrists crossed. It was a position that suggested so many naughty thoughts he was instantly hard. She looked so utterly pleased with herself that he had to smile. He’d never known this feeling—that of a heart full to bursting—with anyone but Grace. Hell, how he adored this woman.

“And where are you taking me, Captain Hamilton?”

Grace laughed, green eyes sparkling like a fairy’s. Her legs were splayed, her generous thighs showcased by the breeches. Wickedness in her smile revealed she knew exactly how tempting she looked. “To the docks. To my ship.”

“Your ship!”

“Yes. I bought one with my dowry so that we can leave England and sail to safety. My family has ensured that we will not be pursued. Your men are aboard the ship and we shall sail tonight.”

Devlin shook his head in amazement. Where was the proper young lady who had wanted to be a part of the rigid and correct world of the ton? Where was the woman who had wanted marriage to a gentleman? “You have enjoyed engineering my escape, haven’t you?”

Snuggled against the seat, her golden hair aflame against the deep blue, she smiled. “Yes. And I think I’ve done an excellent job. I arranged the purchase of the
Green-Eyed Siren
, and your men Nick and Horatio assured me she would be a good ship. They thought you would be rather fond of the name—”

“True.” He couldn’t resist—he crossed over to her seat and pressed his thigh against hers. He cradled her knee, the gesture intended to be a caress of love and friendship, not an erotic proposal.

She slid away so she was lying back, resting in the crook of the seat and the carriage wall. “I brought the carriages and arranged your harem. I had expected they would not want to listen to me, but they did. Your ladies were all brilliant, each and every one.”

“Sweetheart, I do like the look of you in a shirt and breeches.”

“Ones that are skintight, you mean.” Grace toyed with the ties that should be fastened to make her shirt…decent. The open neck of the shirt gave a tempting view of peach-soft skin, a spray of amber freckles, and the delectable swells of her breasts.

“The shirt and breeches suit you—they reveal more than just your magnificent figure, love. They reveal your wild streak, the wanton, adventurous woman I adore.” He leaned over her, his position dominant, his heart in her possession. “Do you know why I turned myself in?”

Clear and green as a lush tropical island, her eyes met his with trust and joy. “Tell me why,” she whispered.

“It was my intention to tame myself for you. Now I’m not certain that I can be wild enough to suit you, Grace.”

Her laugh—the unladylike, loud one—filled the carriage. “You’re a highwayman. You are the wildest man I’ve—”

“Ah,” he interrupted. “But I’m an old man.”

“You aren’t!” She frowned, though. “I’ve realized that I’ve risked everything for you and I don’t even know your age. That’s very foolish I suppose, but I no longer care. Now, how old are you?”

“Eight and twenty.”

“That’s hardly old!” Giggles followed her exclamation; then she soberly reached up and clutched his linen shirt. “They could have hanged you, you know.”

He’d only been apart from her for a fortnight but her lips were driving him to madness. Still, he could smell the foul stink of the jail on his clothing and he backed away. He couldn’t touch her. Not when he was filthy, when he looked and smelled like a criminal. He sat up, gazing down at her. “I don’t believe they would have, Grace. I’d not been sentenced to hang as the king himself knows of the many secret and subversive acts I’ve done in the name of England.”

He felt the carriage slow, so he leaned over Grace and took a look out of the window, catching his first glimpse of the
Green-Eyed Siren
.

“She’s beautiful,” he murmured. “And so is her namesake.”

Grace lifted, pressing her mouth to his bare neck. He caught her wrists. “No, sweetheart, I’m dirty.”

She laughed. “I don’t care. I will take you any way I can have you.”

“Grace—”

But her lips slanted over his with such sensuous, teasing perfection that he couldn’t think. Her hot mouth, her tongue playing with his—this was heaven.

This was what he’d sailed the world hoping to find.

Perfection. Belonging.

Love.

Devlin broke the kiss as the carriage door was thrown open by Horatio, a man who had been second in his trust only to Rogan St. Clair. It looked like he’d made the right judgment with Horatio, who drew him aside while his other men and the women helped Grace aboard the ship. A small black box sat in Horatio’s gloved palm.

“Thought you might need this tonight, Captain.”

Frowning, Devlin flicked it open. As he looked inside, he felt a wide grin spread over his face. “Congratulations, Horatio, you’re first mate now.”

“Thought you’d like it sir,” Horatio answered.

Grace remembered Devlin’s advice.
Look directly ahead, at the horizon.

She stood at his side, her hands on the railing that surrounded the platform where Devlin, the captain, stood. His hands rested lightly on the ship’s wheel. He’d barked orders at the men, and she’d been waiting, watching. They hadn’t had time to even speak together since leaving the carriage.

All had happened so quickly—his men had already loaded the trunks, the ropes had been loosened off the moorings, and men scurried up in the rigging, preparing to sail. She knew a fortune in jewels and coins had come aboard in the dozen ironbound trunks. And barrels of gunpowder had been brought on, in case they were pursued—though the thought of firing on the British Navy frightened her.

Was she certain she could be a fugitive from the country she had been born to, the world she’d been raised in?

Her fingers dug into the railing as she turned to scan the dock they had left, a stretch of planking and piers covered with crates, ropes, and sacks, and surrounded by ships from all over the world. She twisted around to look ahead once more at moonlight-tinted water rippling around them. What if they were stopped? She would be arrested for helping a prisoner escape. Devlin could be sentenced to hang!

“No fears, Grace. We’ll be safe soon.” Devlin had one hand on the wheel and he wrapped his strong, hard arm around her waist. She let him cuddle her, holding tight to him.

They were heading out of the harbor, out into the open water where the sails would catch the wind. Even now the breeze whisked around her, blowing back her hair, ruffling her shirt, tossing the ends of the cloak she’d thrown on for warmth. The water was calm but she held tight, dutifully watching in the direction they were going, waiting fearfully for any twinge of seasickness.

“Shouldn’t I go below?” she croaked. Why couldn’t she be as she had been in her dream, brave and fearless?

Instantly, Devlin directed his attention to her while his crew moved swiftly all around them—on the deck, at the ropes, on the rigging. “It’s not good to be in an enclosed space, Grace, you need to see.” With his one hand at her waist, he turned her, and she let him lead her, surprised when he lifted his hand to guide hers to the wheel.

Smooth beneath her touch, the wood was warmed from his palms. “Are you certain I can try?” she asked.

“Sweetheart, you just rescued me from London’s notorious prison. You can do anything you want to do.”

He had always believed that—long before she had done. Tonight, she had proven she could. Proven it to the one person who continued to doubt—herself.

She gripped the wheel, felt it fight her, wanting to turn, and she almost let it go. Devlin’s hands covered hers, giving strength to her grip, and he kept the wheel in her hands, kept them under control. This was what she wanted. Devlin teaching her, helping her, letting her learn and find her way.

And there would be things she could teach him, too.

But what future would they have?

Devlin took his hands away and she gasped. “This was delivered to me by a servant of your brother-in-law, the Earl of Trent.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a folded letter affixed with a seal. He tore it open. “Guide the ship while I read it, sweeting.”

He certainly had faith in her, even though he kept one hand on the wheel. Grace watched out ahead as the port, the other ships, and London slowly disappeared behind them. Before them stretched the Thames, the dark sky, and the twinkling stars that would guide them. A deep, throaty chuckle swept over her. Both Devlin’s hands returned, and he held the wheel.

“What was it?”

“A pardon, sweeting. Your brothers-in-law have arranged a pardon for me expressly from the king.” He brushed a kiss to the top of her head. “I believe they did it for you, Grace. Thank you.”

She almost jerked the wheel. “Wait! The wretches! You were to be released from prison anyway. No wonder it was so easy to make the escape. They didn’t merely get me building plans—they had probably already paid for your release! I wasn’t rescuing you at all. They let me have an adventure but they made it a safe one.”

“Then let us take a little risk.” Devlin lifted her cloak with his left hand while helping her steer with his right. “I’ve been going wild with desire for you. Every night—hell, every minute of the day—was torture.”

“We can’t make love here! I did it in a dream, but—” Did she dare? His men all had their jobs to do and they weren’t yet in open water. She wriggled back, gasping as her derriere caressed the thick ridge of his erection through all their layers of clothing. He was unbelievably hard, like an iron rod. All that waiting must have made his need all the more intense.

As was hers. She hadn’t even touched herself, had resisted finding her relief by playing with her cunny and dreaming of Devlin.

“I’m wearing trousers—”

“That are ready to burst at the seams.” He had her cloak up, and his body trapped the folds against her. The thick black velvet lengths of it fell at the sides. It would look, to his busy men, as though he was just standing close to her to steer for her.

The brush of his fingers over the snug seam at her crotch made her wet, made her quim ache and become creamy. The stitches were pulled to the limit, for she’d wanted to display her body enticingly. He had to work, his touches making her gasp and moan, but he ripped a hole in her pants.

Heavens.

His fingers widened the hole, forcing the seam to pull against the sensitive tip of her clit. She rubbed there, trying not to be obvious. It was torture to try to look innocent while he slid his thick, long fingers inside her.

“Oh yes,” he groaned. “Remembering this was torture in that cell.”

She knew moans were slipping from her lips. Were they lost to the air above the river or amplified in it? “Did you regret letting yourself be caught?”

“Not for a moment. I had to do it to settle the issue of my criminal ways, because unless I did, I could not do this.”

This? “Make love to me here, do you mean?” Heat pressed between her thighs; the head of his thick cock nudged its way inside the torn hole, leading the way for the thick, beautiful, rigid shaft behind it. No sheath this time.

She slowly rocked her hips back, hoping the motions couldn’t be seen, but she took him inside, clutching at him with her muscles, trying to hold his cock tight.

Devlin buried his head into her neck to muffle his groans. But then his hand appeared in front of her eyes, a small velvet-covered box held in his fingers. “For you,” he rasped.

He thrust forward, his cock filled her, and she almost dropped the box to the deck of the ship. The deck was roiling on the water now, carried and tilted by the waves, but she fiddled with the box. Delvin’s cock inside her held her steady against the tipping deck. Her nipples grew hard, pressing against the thin shirt, and the devil slid his hand up beneath the front of her cloak and tweaked her erect left nipple.

She flipped open the lid of the box.

A star within winked at her in the soft glow of the moonlight.

Not a star. She caught the sparkle with her thumb and forefinger. It was the most enormous diamond ring she had ever seen—a heart-shaped diamond, exquisitely cut. And in the fragile light it seemed to glow with a hint of pink.

Devlin nuzzled her neck, just below her ear, and hot fire streaked through her.

“I love you, Grace,” he murmured. “I’ve loved you, I think, since the first moment I saw you in my father’s ballroom. You captured me then, and I’ve done nothing but think of you since.”

“You love me.”

“Do I have the right to say that to you, Grace?”

“Heavens, Devlin. You always have.” How could he have not felt he had the right, when he had rescued her from the very beginning? He was making love to her so very slowly now that she was whimpering. She wanted him to pound deep and she wanted to rock wildly on him, and the restraint was an excruciating thrill.