Steamed (34 page)

I listened to their chatter for a few minutes. Before I could comment, a footman approached and informed the duchess that she was wanted. She and her ladies-in-waiting followed him back to the palace.

“That was close. But it does bring up a point,” Jack said as we emerged from the hedge, brushing twigs and leaves and small insects from our persons. “Just how are we going to get in to see the emperor if there are all sorts of people running around inside?”

I took the hand he offered, plucked a beetle from his hair, and pulled him a few yards down the hedge before stopping and scrabbling in the dirt at the corner of the hedge.

Jack whistled as I peeled back a bit of lawn and revealed a brass ring set into a flat stone.

“You don’t think a palace as old as this isn’t riddled with secret passages,” I said, moving back to allow him to pull up the trapdoor.

“I’m so glad I’ve never been one to scoff at a cliché,” he grinned, grunting as he strained at the stone.

I pulled a small narrow cylinder from my bag, shaking it several times. A dull glow emanated from it, not as bright as an oil lantern, but providing enough light to see by.

“I don’t believe it. You have glow sticks?” Jack asked as I crawled backward down the unevenly cut stones that led into the earth.

“I have no idea what that is. This is called a ghost lantern. It’s made by exciting particles of aether. As they rub against each other, they release a bit of energy which manifests itself in light. They don’t last very long, but I remember my way into the emperor’s suite well enough.”

Jack lowered the trapdoor over our heads as he followed. The passageway was exactly as I remembered it—close, smelling of earth and damp and things long dead, the air musty and thick. It made me nervous to feel so buried beneath the earth, but I held the ghost lantern aloft and took comfort from both its gentle glow and the feel of Jack’s hand on my waist.

“I’ve never been in a secret passageway before. I think the only thing this adventure is missing is a trip to the dungeon.”

“I fervently hope we shall not be forced to endure that,” I said, my voice sounding as muffled and flat as his. “Now, let me see. . . . There should be some stairs to our left soon, and then . . . ah yes, there they are.”

After sloping slightly downhill, the passage changed from earth walls and floors to ones of stone and wood.

“I take it we’re in the palace now,” Jack whispered as I held the light up on the narrow stone staircase that melted into the darkness on our left.

“Yes, although you don’t really need to whisper until we’re outside of the emperor’s chamber. The walls are stone on the lower levels, and quite thick.”

The glow from the ghost lantern was enough to warn the things that lived in the passage of our coming, so luckily, we did not see any of the occupants, although we noted signs of their demises. I do not have an undue aversion to rodents, but neither do I seek their company, and for that reason, I made a bit more noise than I normally would have as we made our way up two flights of narrow, ill-cut stone stairways, and down a passage so narrow that we had to walk in single file.

“The opening to the emperor’s bedchamber should be somewhere along here,” I whispered, pressing the dark wood panels. “There is a panel that is hidden beneath a tapestry that slides . . . Ah, here it is.”

I pressed the wood inward and up. It gave way a few inches, sliding along an invisible track in the paneling with only a whisper of sound.

The tapestry smelled as musty as the passageway when I pushed it aside and peeked out into the room. Sounds that had been muffled by it were only too clearly audible as I stared in horror at the sight of a man standing at the end of a bed, a pair of legs clad in stockings wrapped around his hips.

Jack was close behind me, obviously about to follow me into the room. As I hurriedly dropped the tapestry and stepped back into the passage, he grunted in pain. I put my hand over his mouth to warn him before sliding the panel back into place.

“I’m sorry I stepped on you,” I whispered once it was closed again.

“Those boots have damned deadly heels,” he said, hopping on one foot as he pulled the other out of his shoe and rubbed the toes. “What’s wrong? Isn’t he there?”

“Erm . . .” I shook the ghost lantern again and set it on the ground so I could examine Jack’s foot. “Yes, he’s there.”

“Ow. Stop moving my toes. I think they’re broken.”

“They’re not broken, just bruised. And I do apologize about stepping on them. I had no idea you were that close behind me. Here, let me wrap them together. That may ease the pain somewhat.”

Jack sat on the ground, his foot propped up on his knee, as I pulled a handkerchief from my bag, using it to bind his abused toes together.

“OK, if he’s there, then why didn’t we go in to talk to him?”

“He was busy.” I pulled his sock on, and assisted him to slide the foot into his shoe.

“Busy with what? Octavia, we have”—he pulled out his pocket watch and tipped it so the face caught the glow of the lantern—“slightly less than two hours before my sister is hanged. I don’t care if he’s busy. We have to save her
now
.”

“I can guarantee you that if we were to talk to William now, we would not receive any favor from him. In fact, quite the opposite.”

“Why? What’s he doing?”

I coughed and brushed off my skirt. “He’s just . . . busy.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Jack muttered, pressing against the panel.

“Jack, no—” I clamped my lips closed as he slid it open again, my hand on his arm as he shoved aside the tapestry and looked into the room. I averted my gaze.

Jack pulled back, slid the panel home, and gave me a sour look. “What sort of a man bonks his bride hours before the wedding?”

“Evidently one who couldn’t wait. Unfortunately, that is exactly what we will have to do.”

“I agree that interrupting him while he’s getting a jump on his honeymoon isn’t a good idea, but we don’t have time to sit around and wait for him to finish. And I’ll be damned if I let my sister hang because the emperor is too busy getting it off to save her.”

I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms. “I don’t see that we have any other choice. We’re just going to have to wait for him to finish.”

“Well, how long will that take?”

“How on earth do you expect me to know that?” I asked.

“You’ve slept with him. You must know how long he takes.”

“As long as is needed,” I answered somewhat waspishly, I admit.

“Great.” Jack slumped against the wall. “So we just sit here and wait for him to finish.”

I took his hand. “We can check on the . . . er . . . progress periodically. Until then, we can talk.”

“About what?”

“Whatever you wish to talk about. What interests you?”

“You.” He sounded cross and irritable.

I smiled in the almost darkness. “What else?”

“Making love to you.”

“I agree that’s a subject I am most interested in, as well, but hardly suitable for our location.”

Jack turned to look at me, the petulant expression fading into something that made my belly suddenly feel warm. “You think not? Then let’s can the talk and just do the deed itself.”

I blinked at him in surprise. “You want to make love here?”

“Sure.”

He started unbuttoning his trousers.

I gestured toward the walls. “But this is a filthy passage. There are rats here.”

“Not around us. Tell you what, I’ll volunteer to be on the bottom. You can climb on top.”

I was about to refuse, as any sane woman would, when he pulled me down onto his legs, and nuzzled my cleavage. “Jack, no, we shouldn’t. Really, we shouldn’t. This is a secret passage, not a bed.”

“Sweetheart, there’s nothing I want more than to get into your secret passage,” he mumbled into my breasts, pulling aside my blouse, corset cover, and chemise to reveal a breast. I shivered at the combination of the cool air of the passageway and the heat of his mouth as it descended upon my flesh.

“Your double entendres . . . oh, yes, please, right there . . . leave much to be desired. . . . Could you . . . ? Thank you. My breasts get jealous if you pay attention to only one of them.” I clutched Jack’s shoulders and gave in to my inner wanton, arching my back as he moved over to the other breast, laving it with the same sweet heat that threatened to set all of me alight. “No, no, Jack, we must stop. This isn’t right.”

Jack looked up, grinning, the ribbon from my corset cover clenched between his teeth. “I know. It’s very dirty of us, isn’t it?”

“Dirty isn’t so much the word as unwise,” I said with dignity, or as much dignity as one could have when one’s bosom was bared and slick with moisture.

“Come on, Octavia. Let go of that reserve. I guarantee you’ll enjoy yourself if you do.”

“We are in a filthy secret passageway, just a few feet away from the emperor. I don’t know why this makes you quite so determined to make love, but I assure you, it’s not a setting that arouses me in the least,” I said, aware that I sounded prim and prudish, but clearly, someone had to keep her head in this situation.

“Oh really?” Jack’s mismatched gaze positively glittered with wickedness as he flicked his thumb over my bare nipple. “So that doesn’t do anything for you at all?”

“No, of course not.” I cleared my throat as I pulled up my chemise, inwardly cringing at the patent lie.

He raised both eyebrows at my nipple. It was beaded and tight and rosy, and looked very much like a nipple that had been pleasured within an inch of its life.

I cleared my throat again. “I’m a little chilly, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh. So, despite the fact that we’re alone here together, just you and me and no one else, just the two of us, you sitting on my thighs and a mere couple of inches away from my dick, despite all that, you’re wholly unmoved and don’t want me to make love to you until your eyes cross, your legs shake, and your body does that delicious convulsive thing that damn near wrings my balls dry?”

Something resembling the sound of a whimper emerged from my lips as I pulled up my corset cover. “Um . . . I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. What was the question?”

“Octavia?” Jack’s voice was even, but there was an undertone that told me he was about at the end of his tether.

“Yes?”

“You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met in my life. I hope to God you’re ready.”

Before I could open my mouth to dispute such base abuse, he lifted my hips, and impaled me. I was, naturally, more than ready for him, but still, the invasion of him so hard and hot inside me took my breath away. For as long as he held still, that is, but the second he started moving, urging my hips into a motion that consumed me, all thoughts of things as mundane as breathing left my mind.

“Lovemaking should never be done under such unhygienic circumstances,” I panted as I rose on him, flexing my muscles as I did so, trying to make him groan nonstop. “We could catch who knows what here.”

Jack’s fingers dug deep into my hips. Luckily my corset kept him from hurting me, but I knew by both the strength of his thrusts upward, and the extremely ragged nature of his breathing—not to mention the fact that it was his eyes that were, at that moment, crossed—that he was enjoying himself as much as I was. “You’re doing that deliberately, aren’t you?”

I sank down on him slowly, savoring the feeling at once so alien and yet so familiar, as my body welcomed him into its depths. “What? Lecturing you?”

His entire body jerked as I tightened my newfound muscles around him. “No, that. That squeezing thing.”

“I did that before, Jack. You seemed to enjoy it, so—” I rose until only the very tip of him was inside me. I clenched my inner muscles as tight as I could, and swiveled my hips as I sank downward again. “—so I thought I would do it again.”

“You may have done something before, but it wasn’t like this. You’ve been working out!”

I froze for a moment, staring down into his outraged eyes. “I beg your pardon?”

“Admit it! You weren’t this strong the other day when you did that swivel move. You almost ripped my dick off then with it—now you’re about to emasculate me entirely. The only way you could get that strong is if you’ve been working out.”

“Working out?”

“Your muscles.” He pulled one hand from my hip to gesture at the juncture of our bodies. “Down there. Don’t deny it.”

I stared at him for a moment, trying to sort out what he was saying with the emotion that was so stark in his face.

“Jack.”

“Look! You’re doing it again. Holy Jesus and all his saints! You’re going to kill me! Don’t stop!”

I released the muscles that were gripping him so tightly and leaned forward to kiss him. “You really are the strangest man I’ve ever met. I have no idea why I love you so much, I really don’t. Now be quiet so I can continue emasculating you, not that I will because your parts seem to be just fine after we’re done. More than fine, quite hale and hearty and usually ready to go again in a surprisingly short amount of time—”

Jack stopped me from continuing by the simple act of wrapping his hand into my hair and pulling me down to kiss all thoughts from my brain. Our movements became frantic, the lovely rhythm changing to that of a primal nature, a glorious end in sight that we strained against each other to achieve.

Jack pushed me over the edge by sliding his hands under my skirt and petticoat, cupping my behind in his hands as he leaned backward, altering the angle of his attack. My moans of pleasure mingled with his as rapture broke over me, the waves of climax rippling outward in a seemingly never-ending moment that seemed to stop time itself.

I opened my eyes to the sound of an echoed roar, words that were as sweet to me as the purest honey.

“I love you, too,” I said, leaning down to kiss him as he lay collapsed against the wall, his body limp, his head lolling.