But, obediently, he moved to her other breast, sucking and nibbling until she was crying out again. And then just when she would have urged him to hurry, he lowered his free hand and cupped her between her legs.
That silenced her.
In fact, she opened her eyes, which had been tightly closed, and stared at him. Her pupils were dark and large, those blue eyes dominating her face.
Without looking away, he let his hand fist around the material of her dress and tug it upward. Inch by inch the fabric revealed more of her body. He ached to look, but he kept his gaze locked on hers, watching as her eyes warmed to liquid sapphire.
Finally, he held the hem in his hands. Slowly, he released the material, leaving his hand free to cup her in truth. She’d told him she was burning up, and she hadn’t lied. She was so hot, he almost jerked away at first.
Like the rest of her, the skin here was smooth and soft, the curls at the juncture of her thighs damp with her need. He stroked her outer lips, feeling her body shake and tremble as he did so.
And then, ignoring her previous orders, he moved as slowly as he could, parting those lips and slipping one finger inside.
Molten heat.
That was all he could think. She was so slick and ready for him. He pushed his finger deeper inside her, and she cried out, her eyes going so dark they were almost as black as his own.
And then he had to see her. Dragging his gaze from hers, he took a leisurely perusal of her, starting with those glorious breasts, spilling out of her bodice. The nipples were still hard and now wet from his ministrations.
His gaze traveled down her white gown with its little lavender bows. The bows were bunched up along her waist, and he could see her stocking-clad legs tangled with his.
And then his gaze fastened on her bare hips and thighs, the soft chestnut curls between her legs, and the tender pink skin where his finger moved in and out. Her hips rose to meet his movements, her body moving instinctively in that timeless rhythm.
Jack slid into her again and imagined all the ways he could give her pleasure. He felt her tighten around him and knew it would not be long now until she exploded.
“Oh, no!” Her voice was anguished, regretful. “We have to stop.”
Her hands pushed against the hand holding her prisoner, and he freed her, slipping his finger out of her as she sat and began to right her clothing.
“What the hell—”
“I’m sorry,” she said rapidly, not looking at him. “It’s dawn. The sun is rising. We should—we should start moving.”
“But—” His brain was still far behind hers, and his cock throbbed insistently. “So, just like that, we’re done?”
He sat beside her, and she stood, jerking her dress down and covering those shapely legs. Her hands were shaking and she looked a bit unsteady on her feet. “Sir, we can’t afford to lie about all day. We have to find Ashley and Mr. Dover.”
“Sir? Sir?” Jack knew he sounded surly, but he felt surly. “What the hell’s going on? One moment I have my hand—”
“Lord Blackthorne!”
“Fine. But why the rapid about-face? When you said to hurry, I thought you meant—”
“I think it best if we don’t discuss the matter any further,” she said, lifting her trembling hands to her hair. “Do you have any suggestions for locating the others without alerting Lord Bleven or my father or anyone else following us where we are?”
Jack frowned. She was fully dressed and had even pinned her hair up in some sort of order. She really was done with him. What the hell had he done wrong? One moment she’d been moaning and pressing against him. The next she was on her feet, pulling her shoes back on.
“Lord Blackthorne, I asked if you had any suggestions.”
Jack raised his eyes to hers. They were clear blue, no trace of the haze of desire from a moment before. “I have a suggestion. Take that dress off and get back down here.”
She shook her head. “Please be serious. In fact, be truthful. What did you do to the Duke of Bleven to anger him so?”
Reluctantly, Jack rose to his feet and began brushing off his trousers. The woman was obviously through with him. She’d dismissed him faster than a courtesan with money in her hand. “I didn’t do anything to Bleven,” he said. He’d left his boots on, in case they needed to run in the night, and now he leaned against the tree, pried one off and shook out the dust and pebbles.
“But if you didn’t do anything to Bleven, then, why—” Her big blue eyes widened farther. “Lord Nicholas.”
“Bang on the mark. My darling brother”—Jack slid his boot back on and stomped his foot back into it—“publicly insulted the duke. The duke was not pleased.”
