The Faithful Heart (39 page)

He drew in another breath, gripping the sides
of the tub and closing his eyes, shaking his head. “You don’t wanna
wait and do this slow and proper, do you?”

“No, Jack.” She circled her arms around his
neck, sneaking a kiss. “I just want you.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, all of you.”

“An’ you’re not gonna get all upset about it
later? Accuse me of not bein’ romantic ’n all?”

She wasn’t entirely sure what he was talking
about, but she answered, “No, never,” anyhow, and kissed him
again.

“Alright,” he winked at her. “Mind your
knees.”

She didn’t have time to puzzle over his
statement. He leaned forward, sliding his hands along her thighs to
part her legs further. His eyes met hers as his fingertips stroked
the heated opening between her legs. Then they were gone and
something much bigger was in their place. A thrill of anticipation
swirled through her, and with a rumbling groan he thrust into
her.

For one disorienting moment a crack of
discomfort eclipsed the blissful pleasure. It shook her out of the
heady stupor she’d fallen into. He moved inside of her, tipping her
backwards in the sloshing water, thrusting again. A raw moan
escaped from her in time to his movement. She didn’t know where it
came from, she didn’t know how she wasn’t drowning in the soapy
water, in Jack. The brief pain wasn’t important. He felt so good,
it felt so whole to be a part of him, that she gave up trying to
figure things out and simply held onto him, letting him use her for
his own pleasure. It was the most vital thing she’d ever felt and
she gave herself up to it.

“Oy.” He stopped abruptly, laughing and
rocking back to sit on the floor of the tub. “I’m either outta
shape or far more tired than I though. You mind moving this to the
bed?”

“Yes, please!” She relaxed the muscles she
didn’t know she was tensing.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He stood,
carrying her with him, dripping water all over the floor, and
rushed to the bed. He didn’t bother with towels or robes. She
thought she might still have soap all through her hair. It didn’t
matter. He laid her across the bed, laughter still rich in his
throat and his eyes, and carried on where he’d left off. She
dropped her legs to the side and lifted her hips to take him inside
of her once more. He filled her with a sigh, hips surging in a
rhythm of deep need as water dripped off of his hot body.

“I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” he
muttered against her ear as she wrapped her arms and legs around
him. “I love you, Madeline.”

“I love you Jack.” She closed her eyes and
let go to the joy of his quickening thrusts. Her body hummed higher
and higher, the pleasure of his passion driving her on to
sensations she’d never felt. And when the pulsing core of her burst
into waves of bliss that she would never have dared to imagine she
sang his name with a contented sigh that spread through her fiery
body. “Jack!”

His wordless response blended with the energy
of his thrusts. He cried out and surged into her with a few more
powerful strokes before calming, his body going limp. He let out a
breath and relaxed, withdrawing and settling half on top of her.
She didn’t want to let him go, didn’t care if he was too heavy, she
still wanted him to cover her. They lay there without speaking,
catching their breath and holding each other. Nothing and no one
would part them now. All of the worldly forces of Lydia, her
father, money, and power could try, but they would never come
between the two of them again.

After many long moments of just lying there,
stroking the side of her face and her hair and staring at her in
peaceful awe, Jack’s brow wrinkled. “Are you gettin’ as cold as I
am?”

She laughed, snuggling closer to him and
rubbing his arms to warm him. “I don’t think I’ll ever be cold
again.”

He laughed, joy making his eyes shine, and
kissed her with settled passion. “You know what else?” he teased
her, nipping at her lips between words.

“What?”

“I’m hungry.” He swung his leg around,
sitting and bringing her with him. “Good thing we got a feast
waitin’ for us.”

“Good thing.” She grinned, sliding her arms
around his neck and kissing him. He was the only feast she
wanted.

He hummed in heated surprise and kissed her
back. “Give me a couple minutes an’ we can come back for desert,
mate.”

She let him go with an exaggerated sigh. He
hopped off the bed and rushed to examine the dishes that had been
brought up while she returned to the tub and dunked her head in the
water to rinse the rest of the soap out. When she was done she
found a towel and scrubbed until her hair stood out in spikes all
over her head.

“It’ll be nice when it grows out,” she said,
joining Jack at the table, ignoring the fact that they were both
stark naked.

“Oy!” He stared at her with a stricken look.
“What are you goin’ on about! I like your hair just the way it
is.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, an’ if the two of us are gonna be
beggars in the street after tonight then you’d best keep lookin’
the part.”

The thrill of her plan with Simon and Crispin
swirled around her again. She sent a coy glance to the plate he’d
set in front of her and picked up a slice of buttered bread. “Are
you really happy not being a noble anymore?”

“Yes,” he replied without hesitation, taking
up a goblet of wine and drinking.

A thread of worry wound around her gut. “Are
you sure? You really hated the job?”

He set the goblet down and wiped his mouth.
“Bein’ a nob is for the birds,” he nodded. He stuffed a piece of
chicken in his mouth with a thoughtful expression. “Though I did
like helpin’ people.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah. Most of the rest of the nobs are right
pricks when it comes to the way they treat their villagers, at
least the ones I’ve seen. It was nice to be able to stand up for
’em a time or two.” He shrugged and continued eating. “Maybe I’ll
still get to do that as bailiff.” He chewed for a moment then
stopped. He swallowed and his expression turned glum. “I’m gonna
miss Kedleridge though.”

The grin returned to her face. “It’s a lovely
village, isn’t it.”

“The best in all Derbyshire,” he sighed. “In
all of England, if you ask me.”

“And your orchard is lovely.”

“Yeah.” He sent a wistful look to the dried
apples on the edge of his plate. “It’s Simon’s now. Guess it always
shoulda been.” His face darkened. “And Lydia’s.”

Hearing her name shot a jolt of wicked
triumph through Madeline’s heart. She wondered if Simon had broken
the news to her yet. “I wouldn’t worry too much about Lydia if I
were you.” She reached casually for her wine and took a sip.

“If I hear that she’s treatin’ the folks at
Kedleridge with a heavy hand….” He finished by stabbing a potato
with his knife.

“I think she’s going to have other things to
worry about besides tormenting the good people of Kedleridge.”

“Like fancy clothes and parties and spending
all of Simon’s money? Oy, I owe him one for falling on his sword to
save the rest of us.”

Her lips trembled with the effort of keeping
the smirk off her face. “I don’t know how many clothes she’ll be
able to buy or how many parties she’ll be able to attend on a
steward’s income.”

“Yeah, but Simon’s not a steward anymore, is
he.” Jack was slow to catch on. She arched an eyebrow at him. He
stopped mid bite. “Is he?”

Madeline selected an almond from her plate
and popped it into her mouth, chewing slowly but not saying
anything.

Jack put his fork down and stared at her.
“Madeline,” the light of expectation filled his eyes as he coaxed
her, “what were you an’ Simon shootin’ each other those looks
for?”

Her grin widened. She leaned her elbows on
the table. “I told you to have faith in me to rescue you from the
situation.”

His eyes grew. “What did you do?”

She shrugged and sat back in her chair.
“Anyone with pen and ink can scribble words on a parchment. It’s
Lydia’s fault if she didn’t stop to question it.”

His jaw dropped. “You’re joking!” She shook
her head. “You didn’t!” She smiled and blushed with satisfaction to
the tips of her toes. He continued to gape at her. “Are you sayin’
that declaration was a fake?” She smiled. “So … it wasn’t from
Prince John? I’m not dispossessed?”

“No, my lord, you are as much Lord John of
Kedleridge today as you were yesterday.”

His face went slack. He stared at her in
disbelief, eyes shining. “Does Crispin know about this?”

The sheer joy of his reaction wrung tears
from her eyes. It was a wonder it had taken her so long to break
down. “I rode all the way to Matlock to bring him back,” she wept.
“My father tried to murder me in the process but I knew I had to
bring Crispin back to make Lydia believe it was true.”

“An’ Simon? Does he know?” Jack stood and
pulled her into his arms.

She nodded. “It was both of our idea.”

His arms trembled around her. “So I’m still a
nob an’ we got Lydia to hand over the money an’ I got to marry you
too?” She nodded, beyond speech. “Dear God, Madeline, I love
you!”

He swooped in to kiss her, gathering the
rosary from her chest in one hand and holding it and the side of
her face. Madeline had never imagined happiness like this was
possible. She had everything she’d ever wanted right there in her
arms and no one could take it away from her.

“Right, I’m ready for desert now.” Jack
lifted her from her backside, her legs straddling him, and walked
with her to the bed. She laughed as he tossed her across the damp
covers and crawled over top of her. She wanted him so desperately
that her body prickled in anticipation. “An’ this time,” he hummed
between kisses, “I’m gonna make sure we take as long as we can and
then some.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Lydia stretched in the morning sunlight that
poured through the window into the grand bedroom of Kedleridge
Hall. Her limbs were loose and warm. The bliss of getting
everything she ever wanted made her feel like she could climb a
mountain or ride Simon like a warhorse all day. She stretched out a
hand to the other side of the bed, intent on waking him and
repeating the sport of the night before. It’d taken some
convincing, but once she’d lured him into bed he was as hot and
demanding as she’d remembered.

He wasn’t there. She opened her eyes and
looked for him. He was out of bed shrugging into his drab black
tunic as though someone had died.

“Come back to bed,” she cooed, throwing back
the covers to reveal what he was missing.

“I have work to do.”

She rubbed herself to entice him. “But I want
you, Simon.”

He glanced away, grabbing his belt from the
dresser and fastening it around his waist. “Last night was a
mistake.”

“How could it be a mistake when we’re husband
and wife?”

A bare flush stained his otherwise pale face.
“I love Charlotte.”

Lydia’s stomach clenched. “Charlotte is
dead.” She swung her legs around and sat. “Forget about her. Think
of all the marvelous things you and I will do. I’m not too old to
give you children. Good children, not sick ones like she did.” She
spread her legs and stroked herself again. “All you need to do is
come over here and give it to me.”

“Don’t be vulgar,” he hissed. He crossed to
the small table beside the fireplace where the letter from Prince
John declaring him lord of Kedleridge sat. He snatched it up and
carried it over, throwing it at her. “You’re a blind fool,
Lydia.”

Cold worry cut through the lazy gratification
she was trying to enjoy. “What are you talking about?”

“Take a look at it,” he demanded. “What do
you see?”

She picked up the parchment from the bed and
glanced at it. “I see our future, Simon. I see everything I’ve ever
wanted and more.” She tossed the parchment aside and slipped off
the bed, swaying towards him.

He pushed her arms away when she tried to
touch him, marching past her to hand the parchment to her again.
“Read it.”

She sent him an irritated frown. “I don’t
know why you’re being like this,” she huffed.

The letter was clear. The prince wrote that
information had come to light and he had reversed his decision.
Jack was dispossessed and Simon was declared the new lord.

“What do you see?” Simon demanded.

She let out an exasperated breath. “It’s a
declaration, that’s all.”

“You’re so blinded by your own greed that you
can’t see a simple ruse?” He grabbed the letter and held it in
front of her. “There’s no royal seal, Lydia,” he drawled. “There’s
no insignia or embellishment at all. You were in such a hurry to
screw me, to screw Jack and Madeline and all of Derbyshire, that
you didn’t stop to ask one simple question.”

The bottom dropped out of Lydia’s stomach.
Her face and hands went numb as she grabbed the parchment and
stared at it. Simon was right. There was no seal. The signature was
elaborate but she had no way of knowing if it was authentic.

“What are you saying?” She balled the side of
the letter in her fist and glared at him.

“I’m saying that you’re an ambitious fool who
married the bastard child of a housemaid.”

Hot rage pumped through her. “What is this
then?” she shook the letter at him. “Where did this come from if
not Prince John himself?”

For once Simon didn’t try to hide his
emotion. He smiled at her with grim satisfaction. “It was written
by a former nun with a good hand and a will so powerful that she
would stop at nothing to save the man she loves.”

“That bitch!” Lydia screamed. She tore the
useless parchment, fury buzzing through her. With a second scream
she launched herself at Simon to slap him as hard as she could. He
caught her arms and held her in a vise-like grip. “You knew about
this! You knew!”