Stolen Kisses (22 page)

“Oh,” she gasped, as sensation unlike anything she’d ever felt stormed through her.

Jack’s lips trailed over to her other breast, and he ran the tip of his tongue around the aureole, then suckled her again. Lilith tangled her hands in his hair, holding him against her.

He straightened and kissed her. “Now you undress me,” he suggested in a soft murmur.

Lilith lifted her hands to cup the sides of his face and kiss him as he had kissed her. Her shaking, eager fingers fumbled over the buttons of his waistcoat. Jack didn’t make the task any easier, for he was caressing her breasts again with his long fingers and kissing the nape of her neck. “Jack, you must stop,” she ordered unsteadily, as she accidently pulled off one of his buttons. “I can’t think straight.”

“You’re not supposed to be thinking,” he said huskily, his eyes on her hands as they ran over the front of his shirt. “You’re supposed to be feeling.”

“I am.” She smiled breathlessly.

Taking pity on her, he helped her with the waistcoat. She clumsily pulled his shirt free of his breeches, and he helpfully lifted his arms so she could pull it off over his head. Her fingers shaking, she reached out to run her hand along his hard, smooth chest. His skin jumped beneath her touch.

“You’re not so poorly made, yourself,” she offered, hesitantly sliding her hand down his flat, well-muscled abdomen.

“Perhaps I’d best see to the rest,” Jack muttered. He swiftly pulled off his Hessian boots, then disposed of his breeches.

Lilith’s gaze wandered lingeringly down his lean, hard
body. Finally she saw his aroused manhood. “Oh, my,” she said faintly, her heart skittering with desire and nervousness.

“Is that good or bad?” he asked with a lopsided grin.

Naive as she knew herself to be, Lilith also knew that he was magnificent. “You’re more beautiful than the statue of David,” she whispered.

Jack closed the distance between them. This time, when he lifted her in his arms, she could feel the fast beating of his heart against her skin, and the slight tremor of his muscles as he laid her on the bed. He sank down beside her.

Lilith felt as though she was humming with tension, that she needed something only Jack could give her. As his lips found hers again, she shifted restlessly closer to him. While he kissed her, his hand wandered languorously down to her breasts, along her stomach, and then lower. As he slowly slid his fingers between her legs, Lilith gasped and tensed.

Jack smiled, though the motion of his hand against her never stopped. “‘If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this, my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.’”

She tilted her head back and moaned, all sensation narrowing to where Jack’s hand caressed her most private place. “You’re a romantic,” she declared shakily, her hands tracing the hard muscles of his back as he leaned closer.

He kissed her deeply again, and let his mouth once more travel down to her breasts. “You inspire me,” he murmured, shifting so that the length of his body covered hers.

With his hand he coaxed her legs further apart, then settled his own between them. Lilith gazed into the dark
eyes that seemed able to look deeper inside her than anyone she’d ever known.

He kissed her again, and at the same time entered her slowly and carefully. She gasped in mingled pain and surprise and wonder. “Jack,” she whispered, digging her fingers into his back.

“It’s the last time I will ever hurt you. I swear.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” she protested shakily, gasping again as he moved. She watched his face, saw from his expression how careful he was being, and what a strain it was for him. “Really.”

“How’s this?” he asked, shifting and slowly deepening the embrace of their bodies.

He was right; the pain was nearly gone, replaced by a flooding, tightening sensation all through her that she’d never felt before. “Better,” Lilith groaned, arching her back.

“I thought so.”

Slowly and gently at first, then faster and harder, he entered her again and again. Lilith felt tension building inside her, and wanting him still closer, wrapped her legs about his thighs. She lifted her hips to meet each stroke, her fingers pressing into his back, and he groaned, half closing his eyes. He slowed his movement and deepened his strokes, watching her expression intensely, almost ferociously. Something more was happening inside her, and Lilith cried out his name and threw her head back as the tension exploded. Jack quickened his own movements in response, then shuddered, holding himself hard against her. After a moment he lowered his head against her shoulder, kissing her ear. Slowly and carefully, breathing as hard as she was, he settled himself down on top of her.

“Sweet Jesus,” he muttered unsteadily.

Lilith didn’t want to say anything, just wanted him to
hold her, wanted to feel the beat of his heart against hers. His weight on top of her felt so intimate and comforting, and she didn’t want him to move. Ever. He seemed to sense that, for he stayed where he was, gently toying with her hair, for a long time.

Just as he was beginning to grow heavy, he shifted off her. He looked down at her, a slight smile on his handsome face, and his eyes dancing in the firelight. “Lil,” he whispered, and sinking down beside her, slid his arm about her waist and pulled her against him. “You are definitely no Ice Queen.”

Loath to separate herself from him, Lilith cuddled against him, twining her fingers with his while she curled her back against his chest. That way she could feel his slow, steady heartbeat. A clock out in the hallway somewhere chimed faintly half past three, and she knew she should gather her clothes, and her wits, and go home. There was still time, though, before she had to go back to the nightmare, back to tomorrow.
I love you, Jack
, she thought. Content in his embrace, Lilith sighed and closed her eyes.

Something was extremely peculiar. Jack had been mulling it over since Lilith had fallen asleep in his arms. With elbow crooked and head propped up on his hand, he looked down at her. Long, black hair, still wavy from being held in its clips, spread out on the pillow around her head like a dark halo. Not wanting to wake her yet, he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

There had been a time, a few years ago, when he had been even less disposed to care about the feelings of others. For a variety of reasons, including wagers and extreme intoxication, he had bedded a number of virgins. They had been awkward and nervous, hardly worth the tears and hysterics that generally followed, and what he
had felt most was contempt at the silly things for giving in to a man they knew meant them no good.

He sighed as she stirred and tightened her grip on his fingers. All Season, since he’d set eyes on her, he’d intended to bed Lilith Benton. He’d told himself it was because she had insulted him, and she needed to be taught a lesson. Well, he’d taught her, but her passionate reaction, and his own, had left him feeling like the student. She’d wanted him as badly as he’d wanted her. As he still wanted her. And it was even worse than that. He wanted to protect her, to make things right for her, to see her smile, and to hear her laugh.

The hall clock chimed the quarter hour, and he scowled. Making things right for her would not include having London know she’d spent the night at Faraday House. “Lilith?” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

She sighed and smiled, pressing her back against his chest. Then, with a start and an exclamation, she sat bolt upright. “Oh, my God!” she exclaimed, staring at him.

Jack sat up and wondered if she intended to indulge in hysterics, after all. “No, it’s just me. And we’re not often confused, I might add.” It was a poor attempt at humor, and she didn’t smile.

“What time is it?” she continued frantically, diving from the bed for the pile of clothes lying before the nearly dead fire.

Jack took a moment to admire her bare backside before he leaned back against the headboard. If she hadn’t been so obviously distressed, it almost would have been amusing to see the proper chit dashing about like some frantic maiden in a burlesque comedy. “Fifteen minutes of six,” he answered.

“Oh no, oh no,” she cried, trying to pull on her shift. “I’ve ruined everything!”

The marquis continued to watch her curiously. “Worried about offending Dolph?” he asked offhandedly, clenching his fist in the sheets to disguise the sudden burst of hatred and jealousy that ran through him. This dementia of his was becoming extremely serious and troublesome. The thought of any man but himself—and Dolph in particular—touching her was enough to put him into a blind fury.

She was having a difficult time with her ball gown, and a tear ran down her cheek as she struggled to yank her arm through the short, puffy sleeve. “Oh, I’m just like her,” she sobbed. “How could I?”

Jack abruptly realized what she was ranting about. “Your mother, you mean?” he asked quietly. Silently he rose and pulled his robe from the back of a chair. He put it on and stepped over behind her. “Don’t do that to yourself.” He reached out to hold up the other sleeve so her groping hand could find it.

“I’ve done the same stupid thing she did,” Lilith said bitterly, “and now everyone else will pay for it, just as we did with her.”

“Nonsense.” She stilled as he pulled her hair free and draped it over her shoulder. “I have several adjectives in mind to describe what we were up to, and ‘stupid’ is not one of them.” He swiftly fastened up the back of her gown. “Your father had no right to put you through this. And Dolph Remdale is a bloated ass.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said stubbornly. “I made an agreement.”

“Did you? Seems to me it really wasn’t left up to you at all.”

She turned to look at him, and her frantic expression softened into inexpressible yearning for a moment as he held her gaze. “Jack,” she whispered.

Perhaps he could set things right for her. He was dis
reputable, of course, but that could change, and he was titled, after all. Jack swallowed at the enormity of what he had just rather effortlessly talked himself into. “Lil, I—”

“Please promise you won’t tell,” she cut in, reaching out to touch the robe where it covered his heart. He took a quick breath to cover the tremor that ran through him at the caress. “It’s still early. If I can get back—”

“London’s most proper young lady, in the arms of the town’s most notorious rake?” he said softly, so she wouldn’t know how deeply she’d just wounded him. She was ashamed of him, of course. “Who would believe me, anyway?”

He tilted her chin up, meaning to brush the tears from her face, but he was unable to keep from leaning down and touching his lips to her. She didn’t resist, and in fact, pursued his mouth as he straightened, wrapping her arms about his neck and leaning against him. He put his arms around her, holding her close. At least she still seemed to desire him. It was almost as if both of them had been drawn to this, to be together, against all better sense and reason. If this was a punishment for his past misdeeds, he was willing to pay the price.

“I would believe it,” she said more firmly, and even managed a smile. “You’re not so terrible, I think, whatever everyone else says.”

“In that case, answer me two questions, will you?” he asked, handing over one of her hair clips and then heading for his dressing closet.

“It depends on what they are.”

Apparently she felt steady enough to be defiant again. She might be afraid of scandal, but Lilith Benton was not the least bit faint of heart. “Do you truly think Dolph killed Old Hatchet Face?” Jack dug into the closet for
a shirt and breeches, then leaned out the doorway to look at her when she didn’t answer.

She had paused, her gaze on the smouldering fire. “Yes, I think he might have,” she finally answered, looking over at him. “What is your second question?”

“What do you wish to do about it?”

“What do you mean?”

He pulled on his breeches, cast aside the robe, and shrugged into a shirt. “I mean, do you wish to ignore what you know and marry the murdering bastard, or do you want to do something about it?” He wasn’t quite able to disguise the jealousy in his tone, and her expression became more speculative as she looked at him. “You don’t have to decide now, of course,” he forced himself to continue in a more even tone, “but before I go to the gallows for the deed would be nice.”

He immediately regretted having spoken, for that would only remind her that he was rumored to be a killer. His jaw tightened as
she
jolted into his mind. Beautiful Genevieve, red-haired and eager to turn him over to Napoleon in exchange for a bag of gold—he
was
a killer.

The clock began chiming again, and he grabbed for his waistcoat. “Let’s get you home.”

Despite the early hour, Peese was already up and waiting for them in the foyer. “I took the liberty of hiring a hack,” he announced, handing Jack the caped cloak Lilith had arrived in.

Jack glanced at his butler. He’d barely mentioned Lilith Benton to either Martin or Peese, but they both seemed to sense that she was not one of his typical late night trinkets. “My thanks,” he said, and helped Lilith on with her cloak.

“A hack?” Lilith asked, still looking warily at the butler.

Peese held up his greatcoat, and Jack shrugged into it. “No Dansbury crest emblazoned on the doors,” he explained. “Shall we?”

Lilith was silent as they traveled down Grosvenor Street toward Savile Row. For once Jack wasn’t in the mood for idle chatter, either. Too much had happened that he needed to decipher, and she was too lovely sitting there trying not to look back at him.

He had instructed the driver to stop around the corner from Benton House, and Lilith started as they bumped to a stop. “You don’t have to come,” she said hurriedly as he rose and pushed the door open.

“I am fairly proficient at sneaking about,” he answered, knowing he was just trying to prolong their encounter. He leaned out the door, looking at the fog-dimmed lane. No one was in view, and he stepped down and held a hand up to her. They quickly walked up the street, then pushed through a thin spot in the hedge into her garden. The stables behind them were silent, and the only light in the house came from the single kitchen window at the base of the wall. “Did you come down that way?” he asked, gesturing at the rose-covered trellis climbing the wall up to the roof, close to the window he knew belonged to her bed chamber.