Читать книгу Animal Lust - Lacy Danes - Страница 13

“Miss Milton! Miss Milton!”

Jane stretched the muscles of her thighs and sex, aching. The sensations and images of what she and Martin had done the night before returned and heated her skin. A smile tugged her lips.

“Lord Tremarctos wishes you to join him in his study.”

Oh! She was tired! Her eyes fluttered open to light pouring in around the curtain. The sun. She bolted up straight. She could go home. A smile touched her face, and she scrambled to her feet. The flesh between her legs protested the sudden movements.

Martin…. He would not be happy if she left. She gasped. Her heart ached at the thought of leaving him behind. How had her connection to this man fused so fast? She pinched the bridge of her nose. The decision to leave surely could wait until she saw Martin again. She could, however, send a letter to her parents with haste and inform them as to her whereabouts.

She glided to the washbasin and splashed icy water on her face. Gooseflesh covered her skin, but it didn’t cool the heat raging in her. Wringing out a wet cloth, she dragged the damp cotton down her neck. Her gaze caught her reflection in the looking glass, and she gasped. Her lips were swollen—her tongue darted out and traced the plump surface—her hair a tangled mess, and a startling cranberry flush stained her chest.

Pulling out the edge of her shift, she gazed at her breasts. They, too, possessed the red hue as well as the skin around and beneath her curls. Her fingers skimmed lightly across the smooth-as-silk flesh. Martin. The skin felt just like him. How odd! A reminder of him? He had said he marked her. Was this what he meant?

She pulled her hair back and coiled the thick fair locks at the base of her neck the best she could; then she donned the light green dress Martin had given her. The fabric slipped down her body, and shivers pricked her skin. Martin. She ran her hands down her restrained curves, imagining his hands instead of hers. She turned back to the looking glass. Oh! How the color brought a snap to her eyes. The neckline, a modest square, covered the silk burgundy flesh. Besides her lips, no one would think anything different about her.

Opening her door, Jerome waited to take her to Lord Tremarctos. She followed him down the hall and the grand stairs to the main floor.

She stopped at the doorway to the study. The large wooden door stood open into the room. Lord Tremarctos sat behind a massive desk; on the wall behind him hung a full bearskin. Books and interesting artifacts filled the shelves that surrounded the room. She wished she could linger, to pull the books from the shelves and learn of the hidden secrets of this house.

“Miss Milton,” Jerome announced her and bowed.

“Miss Milton, please come in and sit down.” Lord Tremarctos didn’t look up as he scribbled in an open ledger on his desk.

She stepped across the threshold and into the room on shaky legs. Lord Tremarctos was about to send her home. Her heart jumped into her throat.

Fisting her hands in front of her, she sat in the large wooden chair opposite his desk. He was truly elegant. His long gray hair was tied behind his back. His jacket shone the same dark silver as the threads of his hair.

An icy blue gaze slid down her, assessing, and he sighed. “The weather has lifted. I have a carriage prepared. It will be ready to take you home within the hour.”

She bit her lip and pinched the folds of the soft green skirt. She didn’t want to go. Did Martin know she was about to leave? She glanced up to see Lord Tremarctos staring out the window.

“Miss Milton, I won’t play games. I wish you to leave this house. I can sense your indecision.” He wouldn’t look at her, and his hands fisted on the desk’s surface. “I can see and smell Martin’s mark.” He closed his eyes, and his lips pursed; a crease pierced his brow. “I cannot, will not allow you to remain here.”

“Pardon?” This was because of what Devon had said. His father feared what Mac and Martin would do. She had not seen Mac since morning repast the previous day. “What do you fear by me staying here?”

His gaze shot to hers, and anger flashed behind his eyes. “There is a history here, Miss Milton, something that you could not possibly fathom. I will not let my sons follow the same path. You will leave this house. I do not approve of you being here.”

Her lower lip trembled, and tears pricked her eyes. He did not agree with Martin’s choice? Tears welled further, and her throat tightened. Once again, she was undesired. She should have known that Devon’s comment about station not mattering was a stretch of the truth. If she left, what would Martin do? Did he truly want her as his lifemate? Or had he said that so she would allow him to bed her?

She choked back a sob, her heart slowing to a painful thud in her chest. It didn’t matter. Lord Tremarctos wouldn’t allow her to stay. Without Martin here to defend her, she had no choice but to follow his request and leave. A tear slid down her cheek, cooling the humid flesh as chills of sadness raised the hair on her neck.

Maybe returning home would be for the best. She inhaled a shaky breath. She needed to reassure her family that she remained well and…

She swallowed the large lump stuck in her throat. Martin was different, and even though he felt so perfect, so many things were not right in this situation.

She was not of their station, and she truly still had no idea what the Ursus family was or of what greats and horrors they were capable.

But Martin.

Needles pricked the reddened skin beneath her clothing, and her hand raised and traced the neckline of her bodice. Her body and mind craved Martin. How long would the feel of his skin remain on her body? She may forget him in a day as she had Jonathan. Her finger traced the silk skin of his mark. She would hold on to this memory for as long as she could. Overwhelming emotion for Martin filled her heart to the brim. Tears stung her eyes, and she swallowed her heart.

She wouldn’t leave without saying where she’d gone. If Martin decided he did indeed want her after his father’s rejection, he would know where to find her. She would write a letter to him. She couldn’t just leave.

“Very well, sir. Do you have pen and parchment? I would like to leave a letter for Martin.” She had horrid handwriting, but she could leave a short note.

He nodded and then pulled out a few sheets, a quill, and an inkwell. “This is for the best. Thank you.”

She pinched the quill in her shaking hand and scribbled across the parchment.

Martin

I have returned home to Sudhamly to ease my family’s worries.

Jane

Jane stepped down from the Ursus carriage to the muddy street of Sudhamly. The streets bustled with noontime activity. People turned and stared at the black lacquered coach with the emblem barely recognizable on the side. If she had not lived in the Ursus house, she would have thought the symbol a mistake blurred by the mud.

To her, the red and green emblem of a bear print, claws extended, shone clear as day. Bear…. Chills raced her skin, and the marks on her skin burned. With each step she made farther away from Tremarctos and Martin, the marks stung. She walked away from the carriage with reluctance, her heart pounding with unease.

Did the townsfolk know of her fall from grace? She glanced at a few of the locals and smiled, but they stared at her in question of her conveyance.

Nerves shook her hands. Why did being here feel so wrong? She’d wanted the comfort of this place, of her family, but at the moment she wanted to scramble back into the Ursus carriage. She shook her head.

You ninny, you belong here, not there. You feel that way only because of your folly. Go put your parents at ease.

She straightened her shoulders and pushed open the door to her father’s shop. The familiar smell of starch and crisp linen wafted to her nose, and she smiled.

“Be right with you!” her pa yelled from the back of the store. How odd. She had been gone only two nights, but she didn’t know what to do. Should she go into the back? Should she wait here?

The front room of the shop, the largest in their home, felt incredibly small. The steam-thick air, from washing and dying, smothered her. She didn’t belong here…. Yes, she did. She shook her head. She couldn’t wait to see her parents and wipe the worry from their minds. She strode forward, her hands fisted, spine straight, determination pulsing through her. She paused. If they knew of her folly, would they tell her?

Her heart pounded in her throat; she walked behind the counter and pushed open the curtains that led to the back. Her mother stood behind a worktable, cutting cloth, and screeched as Jane caught her gaze.

“Jane! Jane!” She hustled over to her and wrapped her in a huge embrace. “Oh, dear girl, where have you been?”

“Mother.” She squeezed her mother’s fleshy shoulders tight, tears blurring her eyes. “I got caught out in the rain. And…” What should she tell them? She very well could not say she’d rutted with Jonathan and run off because he’d treated her ill. Or that she took shelter in a house filled with nothing but men.

Her mother pulled back and studied her face, a crease between her brows. “Are you well?”

“Quite.” Her lips turned up into a smile.

“Thomas, Thomas, Jane is home. Jane is home!” her mother squealed.

Her father came from the kitchen, his hands blue with dye. “Ah! Jane, you scared us so.” His gaze ran down her length. “But you look well enough. You surely found a place to stay out of the weather. Did you press on to old Mrs. Smithies’?”

“Ah, no…I got lost, but I did find shelter. I’m quite well.”

“I just put on a pot of tea, and you can help your mother with some mending.” He waved them back toward the kitchen.

Her shoulders relaxed, and she and her mother strolled through the door to the family side of the building. It was good to be home. Not once had they pressed her for any explanation. How odd! She’d never hid anything from them in the past. Maybe she should tell them.

No! They would be so ashamed of her, and at the moment she wanted to feel only comfort. Her heart constricted. They trusted her, and she’d done the unforgivable. What would they do if she carried a child? She could not keep from them what had happened. If the gossip leaked out to the township, her father’s business would suffer. But how would she explain?

She sat down to enjoy the comforts she craved, family and home. Tonight she would tell her mother what happened. And tomorrow, everything would change.

The hair on Jane’s neck lifted as Jonathan prowled into her parents’ parlor. What was he doing here?

“Miss Milton, so glad you’re well. Gave us all a scare, lovely.”

Sweet mother! How was she going to get through this? She couldn’t look at him. Heat flushed her face.

He is only here to see your father, you foolish girl. Your father is his friend.

She nodded her head and went back to her mending, not seeing a stitch.

He strode to the chair beside her and sat down with an ungraceful thunk. The needle pricked her finger. Ouch! She grimaced; she refused to let him see her nerves and forced herself to smile.

His dark blond hair was slicked back from his face, and he wore the same white shirt he always wore. She tensed, waiting for the flutter in her heart or the pain she’d felt running through the woods. Neither came. Only her cheeks burned of shame.

He was pale. Had he been ill of late? His blue eyes caught hers, and her stomach clenched. Oh! How odd! She had never experienced that reaction to him before. Her hand shot to her stomach and pressed against the unease.

“Mary, bring us some of those fine rolls you made and a pint,” her father said to her mother. “I think we need to celebrate my baby coming home.”

Her mother scurried to her feet and disappeared into the kitchen. Jane slid the needle back through the tablecloth she mended and held in a burp.

Jonathan leaned toward her. “Gave me a fright, you did, lovely. I’ll be havin’ no more of that.” His eyes were hard as his gaze traveled to her breasts.

Thank goodness he wouldn’t touch them again! She hoped he wouldn’t try to lead her to indiscretion again, but she had given him her virginity, and wasn’t that a good signal she would always be willing?

Now that she had Martin, she couldn’t imagine allowing Jonathan to touch her again.

Did she have Martin? She had left his home. He could consider her gone, never to return. But she didn’t think so.

She, oddly, could feel him. She sensed that he grew near and that he was determined to have her. The possessiveness probably came from his mark. A smile curved her lips as a warm contentedness filled her.

She would one day go back to the Ursuses, if only to stare at the house from afar and wonder. The raspberry marks on her skin pricked, and her heart constricted. She wanted to return to Tremarctos not one day but now.

Oh! What a bloody mess this was! She couldn’t do that, and why did she want to so badly? They were not of her kind, and more than a little part of her feared Tremarctos. Her stomach gurgled, and she hiccupped.

Her mother reappeared with a tray in hand, her savory herb rolls and two pints of beer perched on top. The smell of rosemary and thyme eased her stomach’s grumble.

Mary placed the tray on the sideboard and brought one pint to Jonathan and the other to her father.

“’Tis a good thing Jane made it home safe.” Jonathan raised his mug to her father and smiled.

Had his cheek twitched? Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized him closely.

“Indeed it is. For if something had happened to her, I wouldn’t have this joyous moment.”

The way her father had phrased that was a bit odd. She quelled the shiver that ran down her spine. What was he about?

“I’m so happy to be home, Father, to relieve your worries. I did not intend to make you and Mother fret.” Her gaze darted back and forth between the two men. Something was amiss.

“Indeed, child, as we are delighted of your return. And this day is all the more special….” Her father’s eyes filled with joy, and a radiant smile stretched across his face as he gazed from her to Jonathan.

Oh…Oh, no! Her lungs locked, and she gasped for air. He was about to say what she thought he was about to say. Her entire body tensed as bile burned a hasty trail up her throat. Her stomach twisted and heaved. Her hand shot to her mouth, and she swallowed hard, trying to fight back her crumpets, for she didn’t want to embarrass her family by casting up her accounts.

“Yes, child, Jonathan has asked for your hand….”

She choked as she attempted to swallow back the contents of her dinner. Jonathan reached out to grasp her hand, a conflicted smile on his face. The smell of him, hops and watered-down Scotch, collided with her nose. Her stomach would have none of it; vomit spewed from her mouth, splattering across the crotch of Jonathan’s pants and his prized machine.

“Holy futter!” Jonathan screeched as he shot to his feet.

“I—I’m so sorry,” Jane said, feeling a trifle better. “But—but I thought you had no interest in me for more than a tickle.”

Her mother gasped. “Jane! H—have you…have you and Jonathan…”

Her father held up a hand, effectively cutting off her mother. “Jonathan came by after your disappearance. He was overwrought with guilt and said that when you came home he would marry you. We knew you had a fondness for him, so we accepted.”

She should be overjoyed with glee. Oh, God. This was not happening! Two days ago, wedding Jonathan was all she had wanted. What she expected from her life. But now…she had experienced true affection, true desire, and this was not what she wanted.

Her mother brought two cloths from the kitchen and handed them to Jonathan. Jane’s fingers pinched the bridge of her nose. Ugh. The stench of him! She shot to her feet and scurried to stand on the opposite side of the room. Her stomach clenched again as he stepped toward her. She’d always found the smell of hops so masculine, so Jonathan, but not now.

“Nuttin’ to worry yourself over, lovely. I have been cast up on before.”

Oh, God, Oh, God, Oh, God. What a mess she had gotten herself in. She spun around. “I—I can’t marry—”

Rap, rap, rap.

She jumped, and everyone turned toward the door.

Her father strode to the back entrance and yanked the handle.

Martin barged past her father into the little parlor, dwarfing everything inside.

His wild eyes assessed her in a glance.

“Sir.” He nodded at her father.

A wave of relief swept through her so strong she wanted to weep and throw herself into his arms. The smell of cinnamon wafted to her nose from across the room, and her stomach instantly stopped its revolt. His eyes twinkled. All will be well, Jane, filtered through her mind.

“Excuse me, sir. Who are you to barge into my home?” Her father’s gaze slid down his massive form, studying the tailoring of his clothes.

He looked so finely dressed in expertly fitted blue coat and breeches. Something only a man of means could afford, and her father would never turn down business.

“I am your daughter’s husband.”

A loud thud sounded from the kitchen door. None of them turned to investigate.

“Pardon, sir?” Her father turned his gaze on her. “Jane?”

Oh, this…this…What a preposterous idea! They were married…how was that supposed to work?

“Haven’t you told them, Jane?” Martin’s firm, deep voice made her insides quiver. Play along, Jane. I will not leave this house without you.

Her fists clenched. She wanted to go with him. She had a real proposal of marriage and one that was fictitious. Her soul wanted the lie. What was wrong with her! No sane woman in her situation would turn down a real proposal.

Jane.

She stared at Martin, and her throat tightened. She couldn’t refuse him.

“No. I—I couldn’t think of a proper way to break the good news.”

Relief shone in Martin’s eyes.

“How about ‘I ran off and got married’? My goodness, child.” Her father studied Martin’s shiny mud-splattered boots. “And, sir—it is ‘sir’? Correct?” Her father tilted his head.

“Martin Ursus of the Duke of Tremarctos,” he drawled.

Was that true? His father was a duke?

A thud and then a groan came from her mother as she fell to the floor again. Jane couldn’t take her eyes off Martin, and no one else moved to help her mother either. They might miss something.

“Jane, child, why did you not tell us you were acquainted with a nobleman?”

Martin left her no room to answer.

“I met Jane on the road while in my carriage two days hence, and I was so captivated by her beauty my heart wouldn’t allow me to live without her.” He smiled and winked at Jane.

Lies…and more lies. Would she ever tell a truth again? She tried to smile.

“She refused to get into my carriage. My heart fancied it love, and I refused to leave her. After much persuasion, I finally convinced her to accept my plight and agree to wed me with haste. We left for Scotland straightaway.”

Would he have done such if she had met him on the road? She closed her eyes…. By God! She wished that situation had been true. What a mooncalf!

She sat back and stared at him standing rigid in their parlor; his head was only mere inches from the ceiling. What did her father think? Jonathan had obviously told him of their folly.

She glanced at Jonathan; angry hurt shone in his eyes. Noticing her gaze, he strode toward her, his motions cutting off Martin midsentence as Martin watched Jonathan approach her. In one swift motion, Martin stepped between Jonathan and her. His eyes narrowed, and he stared down at Jonathan, daring him to step around him.

“But…but I…she…” Jonathan pointed back and forth between himself and her. “We.”

“No!” Martin said in a firm voice that all but growled. “There is no ‘we’ where she and you are concerned.”

Jonathan’s eyes went wide, and he turned to search Jane’s face. “Jane.” He bowed his head. “I’m glad you are well.”

Martin stepped aside to let him pass, and Jonathan hastily pulled open the door and went out into the night.

Jane swallowed hard. She’d just passed up her one chance at respectability. But Martin had come for her. Martin! Her entire body lit like a fire at his nearness.

“My dear girl.” Her father grasped her hand and winked. “My lord. You will stay with us this night so we can get to know our new family member.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I have estate business to be handled in the morning. We will head back to Tremarctos this night.”

“Very well, very well.”

“If you so choose, I will send a coach for you in one month’s time, and you and Mrs. Milton can journey to Tremarctos for an extended visit.”

Oh! That would be horrid! What would her family think of the strangeness that occurred in that house?

“So be it! That will do nicely, don’t you think, Mary?” Her father turned toward the kitchen. “Oh, Mary!”

All three of them rushed to her mother, who groaned in her faint as her legs twitched on the floor.

Jane’s father knelt down to help her mother to her feet, and Martin’s warm fingers wrapped about Jane’s arm, pulling her back firmly against his length. His hand traveled down her arm, eliciting small tremors in his touch’s wake; then he laced his fingers in hers. His erection pressed into her bum.

Jane, Jane. I need you, Jane. I need you more than any of that romantic clad trap I spouted to your family. He spoke to her mind.

She closed her eyes as aroused awareness skittered about her skin. Did he mean it?

I should have warned you about the smell of other threatening men…. His chest rumbled in a suppressed chuckle against her back.

What? She turned and peered at him, and his lip quirked. “You mean to tell me I cast up my crumpets because Jonathan got too close to me?” she whispered.

“Something like that.” He pressed his lips to her ear, and his frame shook.

Had he just barely suppressed changing when he saw Jonathan?

“Are you well?”

As soon as I am inside you, I will be.