Pleasures of a Tempted Lady (24 page)

He sat still for a moment, staring at the far wall. Then he said, “Not enough,” in a clipped voice. He rose from the bed and started to pull on his clothes, distancing himself from her in his silence.

She rose, too. She slipped on her chemise and stays, and without words, he came over to work the ties on her stays. When she pulled on her dress, he buttoned it without her needing to ask him.

She glanced at the looking glass on the far wall. Her hair was a mess of tangled curls. That was one thing she certainly didn’t expect him to put back together, but that was all right. Even though Molly had been helping her
dress and do her hair every day, she’d spent years performing both tasks on her own.

By the time they were both fully clothed, Meg heard happy-sounding noises downstairs and realized the boys were home. Without looking directly at Will, she murmured, “I’ll just fix my hair.”

“Of course,” he said coolly. “I’ll join the boys in the parlor.”

With that, he left the room, shutting the door behind him with a snap. Meg straightened the covers on the bed, moving slowly, feeling the residual soreness from Will’s lovemaking between her legs.

She paused, her hand flat on the pillow where he had lain. The silky fabric of the pillowcase was still warm and still smelled of him, and she closed her eyes, lifting the pillow to her face to breathe him in.

She hated that she’d hurt him. She hated that no matter what she did or said, he would never truly understand why Caversham and his brother were such a terrible threat. Not until it was too late.

She’d seen Caversham kill a man in cold blood. An image of Will lying in a red pool flashed through her mind, and her eyes flew open.

She’d been such a fool. From the beginning, she’d been aware of the danger. She’d lived with Caversham for years, and she knew him well. She knew how his mind worked. He wouldn’t hesitate to kill Will or anyone who got in his way.

She loved Will, and the temptation of happiness with him had been so strong, she’d been weak when he’d insisted he could keep her and Jake safe. She’d basked in every stolen moment she’d been able to spend with him,
because she never imagined she’d have that luxury ever again.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She loved him. And her own selfish stupidity might end up getting him killed.

Woodenly, she walked to her dressing table, retrieved her comb, and began to fix her hair.

Someday, maybe, she’d no longer be afraid of Caversham. But, for now, she knew better. And now, in the relative peace of her brother-in-law’s house, she was going to find a way to keep Will safe.

Chapter Fourteen

W
hen Jessica and her driver—she’d learned his name was Mr. Twining—reached St. Katharine’s Docks, twilight had settled over the Thames. As soon as she saw the long buildings at the edge of the docks, Jessica knew her way.

“Here!” she cried as they neared the narrow opening between two of the buildings. Mr. Twining stopped the horse, and Jessica leaped out from the cab. Lifting her skirts, not caring who saw her, she hurried toward the wharf where the
Freedom
was moored.

She released a breath when she saw the ship rocking gently in the light breeze, one rear porthole glowing gold from lantern light within. She hurried up and mounted the stairs two at a time, only slightly tangling her skirts in the ropes as she fumbled onto the deck.

All was quiet on deck.

“Hullo?” she shouted. When there was no immediate answer, she hurried toward the aft cabin, where the
captain’s and mate’s quarters were located. She went to Briggs’s door and burst inside without knocking, praying that he’d be inside.

He was. And he was naked.

Well, she amended… partially naked. His wide, well-muscled torso was bare, but the tops of his drawers covered everything below his flat, tight stomach.

“Christ!” he exclaimed when he saw her. He jerked up the trousers he’d been pulling on and quickly did up the falls. Turning away, he grabbed a linen shirt and yanked it over his head, pushing his arms through in what must be record time.

And then he turned back to her, glowering. “What the
hell
are you doing on my ship?”

In the half second before she came to her senses, Jessica thought that it was a shame he’d reacted so quickly. She would have appreciated a far more extended view of his body. Truly, he was a spectacular specimen of a man.

She’d think about that later. Now… her sister.

“Serena’s been captured,” she said, all business. “I think Jacob Caversham has her. And,” she added, “I believe this is Captain Langley’s ship, not yours.”

He ignored her last comment, because his thunderous look was changing into one of disbelief as he digested the first bit of news.

“Are you sure?”

She stomped her foot. “Good Lord, Mr. Briggs. Why would I be here if I wasn’t certain? We were shopping in Regent Street when she was kidnapped before my very eyes. They forced her into a carriage, and I followed them to a wharf on the river where three men dragged my very
unwilling sister onto a quite sinister-looking ship, one much larger than this.”

She gestured to Mr. Twining, who’d finally caught up to her, as if his presence verified everything.

Instead, Briggs narrowed his eyes at him. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice brittle.

“How impolite,” Jessica said sharply. “This is the driver of the cab I used to follow them. I would never have known where they went if Mr. Twining had not been so helpful.”

Briggs’s focus turned completely to Mr. Twining. “And you brought the lady here after you saw the other lady kidnapped and carried onto that ship?”

“Aye, sir.”

“Would you be able to return there?”

“Oh, aye. Easily.”

“Can you describe the location?”

“Of course, sir. Just downriver from these docks, tied to Wheatsheaf Wharf, she was.”

Briggs pressed his lips together and nodded. He glanced at Jessica, then gestured to the single chair in the room, pulled up behind a small desk bolted to the center of the floor. “Sit there and wait for me.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You must be joking. I will not sit! I must go rescue my sister!”

“No, you mustn’t. You will sit tight until I say so.”

“I will not.”

“Do it voluntarily, Miss Jessica, or I will tie you down. You’ll be safe here on the
Freedom
. I won’t have it any other way.”

Grumbling to herself, she crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him.

He glared back with ice-blue eyes, not giving an inch.

With a long-suffering sigh, she sat.

Without sparing her another glance, he gestured Mr. Twining into the small cabin, then he leaned out the tall, narrow door leading to his quarters.

“MacInerny! I need you in here, now!” he bellowed so loudly that Jessica winced. The man had a voice like a bullhorn.

Within moments, Mr. MacInerny, whom Jessica had met on her previous trip to the
Freedom
, entered the cabin. Briggs quickly explained the situation to him, then assigned him the task of delivering a message, post haste, to Jonathan.

Jessica wasn’t sure about that plan. Jonathan was quite protective of Serena, especially now that she was expecting again. She hoped his rage wouldn’t inspire him to do anything stupid.

Still, Jonathan would want to know. It wouldn’t do to keep such information from him.

Hands folded in a most ladylike fashion on her lap, Jessica raised an imperious brow at Briggs as soon as Mr. MacInerny had left the small room. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

He frowned at her. “What’s wise?”

“The Earl of Stratford is quite fond of my sister. He’s liable to blast away half of London in his effort to retrieve her. I hope you’ll know how to contain him.”

Briggs gave her an odd look that lasted a few seconds, then he turned back to Mr. Twining. “Describe this Wheatsheaf Wharf to me, will you?”

As Mr. Twining did just that, describing the route both by land and by river, Jessica twisted her hands in her lap
and worried about Serena. The men who’d been bullying her onto the ship had looked like the sort of men who would hurt her without a qualm.

Jessica jumped up. “Enough of this blethering!”

Both male heads swung toward her. Briggs had one sandy brow raised high, scrunching up his scar.

“I shall not wait here, impotent, while my sister might be getting hurt.” Getting killed, she thought, but she couldn’t say that out loud. Still, tears sprang to her eyes. “I’m going after her, and I don’t care whether you help me!”

She pushed Mr. Twining aside, and he stumbled against the table. But at the door, she ran into a veritable tower of rock. Briggs’s powerful torso—the torso that she’d admired just minutes ago—loomed before her, blocking her way out the door.

“Not so fast, Miss Jessica.”

“Let me out!”

“Don’t be a ninny.”

She gasped. Phoebe had called her a ninny once, and she’d slapped her sister so hard and had made such a fuss, Phoebe hadn’t dared to do it since. And now this pompous, headstrong man dared to call her such a thing? What a… a…

“You…
bastard
,” she hissed. “Move out of my way. Immediately.”

His eyes widened. Obviously he had finally realized that she was serious.

“I am not going to let those men hurt my sister, do you understand me?”

Reaching out, he grabbed her shoulders, shaking her lightly. “And I’m not going to let those men hurt
you
, do
you
understand
me
?”

Stalemate. She gazed up at him, tears burning her eyes.

“I’m calling for the earl. Mr. Twining has described her location, and when darkness falls, I will assemble a group of men to go after her. We’ll use a barge and go by river—we’ll take them by surprise that way. We’ll find your sister and bring her back to you.”

“What if—?”

He pressed a firm finger over her lips. “You are a woman. This is a man’s job. You have been uncommonly brave, Jessica, but you’ve risked yourself too much already.”

Jessica seethed inside, but a part of her—a bigger part than she’d like to admit to—saw the wisdom in his plan. She’d be a fool to bumble about on a strange ship’s deck in her layers of skirts. It’d be wiser to go at night, when their movements would be more difficult to trace. But…

“But what if they hurt Serena?” she whispered. “Really hurt her?”

That affected Briggs. His blue eyes darkened, and he leaned toward her, gently pushing aside a strand of hair that had fallen over her eye. “I’m going to do everything I can to prevent that from happening,” he murmured. “I promise, Jessica.”

Though she was furious at being left behind, Jessica understood the necessity. So she sat—well,
paced
would be a more appropriate term—and waited while Jonathan, Briggs, and their men carried out their rescue. They’d employed Mr. Twining as well, for the older man was fascinated by the intrigue and had volunteered to do whatever he could to help.

She waited—
paced—
for hours, often glancing at the
door of Briggs’s quarters to see that yes, indeed, the enormous young man they’d placed there to “watch over her” had not moved an inch.

It was late. Nearing midnight.

God, what if those awful men had hurt Serena? What if she had been raped? What if she’d been killed?

Jessica lurched to the door, and the man, a round-faced youth with an apparently cheerful disposition, rose instantly. “Did ye need aught, miss?”

“I should like to go home, Mr. Jasper,” she lied. “It is late and I am tired.”

His smiling lips flattened, and he frowned at her. “Sorry, miss. Mr. Briggs said ye must wait here.”

She studied him, gauging her odds of simply slipping by and running. She assessed them as quite slim. Yet slim was better than nothing, wasn’t it?

“They ought ter be back soon, miss.”

“I know that,” she said sourly. They should have been back an hour ago, and yet they weren’t.

Turning, she crossed her arms over her chest, paced to the tiny window, and then turned back to Mr. Jasper. Six steps total. She’d go mad if she had to stay in this horrible room for one second longer.

Putting her head down, she dashed through the narrow opening between Mr. Jasper and the door. On the dark deck, she lifted her skirts and ran toward the ladder leading to the dock. But her foot caught on a rope, and down she went in a flurry of skirts, hearing the screeching sound of ripping fabric.

She lay there for a second, stunned, and when her senses returned, she scrambled to her knees, only to find herself staring into the formidable bulk of Mr. Jasper’s thighs.

“Drat,” she mumbled.

“Are ye hurt, miss?”

“No,” she grumbled. “But I fear my dress is.”

His hand emerged from the shadows to help her up. Grudgingly, she took it and allowed him to hoist her to her feet. When she was eye-level with him, she stomped her foot. “I want my sister.”

“There now,” he murmured, patting her head as if he were an elderly grandfather comforting a beleaguered child, when in fact, he was probably around her age. “Of course ye do. But the men’ll be bringing her back shortly.”

“I don’t want her shortly. I want her now.” Jessica knew she was behaving like a brat. But sitting still, completely powerless, was not in her nature. Unlike most of the women she’d met in London, she was a doer, a person of action, and not one to sit and patiently wait for things to happen. And the knowledge that her sister was in danger sent impulses of energy to all her nerves, making it impossible for her to be still.

Just then, she heard a scuffing noise, and then voices.

“Is that them?”

“May just be,” Mr. Jasper said in a low voice. He gestured with his chin. “You go on to Mr. Briggs’s quarters now, and I’ll be seeing if it’s safe, aye?”

She bit her tongue, and the rational part of her ordered her body to obey Mr. Jasper’s command. She turned and retreated into Briggs’s quarters. Mr. Jasper closed the door behind her, and she leaned against its inside panel as she heard his retreating footsteps.