Scandalous Miss Brightwells [Book 1-4] - Page 173

Quickly, he closed the door behind them and drew her towards the bed. They didn’t have long, and he wanted all the closeness they could get. It wasn’t only about making love—the wicked by-product of their need for each other—but about everything. Every last whisper, caress, wistful yearnings, and whisperings. He wanted to soak it all in so he would have it forever, to treasure.

“Not as much as I’m going to miss you,” he murmured, scooping her up and placing her on the counterpane before joining her.

Curled up in her fine linen nightgown, she looked like a dark-haired angel.

“Blow out the candle and kiss me,” she begged, pulling at the ribbon beneath her chin.

“I’d rather see you.” He touched her cheek, then slowly traced his finger along her jawline and down her neck.

She contemplated this a moment then said, “Face the wall so I can wriggle under the covers. That way I can decide what you see.” She giggled, and when he turned back, she was sitting primly up in bed with the covers drawn up to her chin. “If you kiss me, I shall let you see just a little more.”

Jack needed no prompting. He reached forward to take her in his arms and kissed her soundly, then drew back.

“Oh Jack, why stop?” Despite the disappointment in her tone, the hint of a smile hovered around her mouth. She dropped the covers, revealing two beautifully formed white breasts, tipped with the tiniest pink rosebuds. Jack thought he’d never seen anything so exquisite.

“You can touch, if you want to,” she encouraged, smiling to see his hesitation. “Oh yes, please do that.” For Jack had done more than just touch. That had only ignited the need to move forward and kiss first one, then the other. And then, when he sensed how much it seemed to inflame her enthusiasm, he concentrated on just the nipple, rolling it around on his tongue and suckling, just a little, loving the way it made her squirm as she gave little squeaks of pleasure. Naturally, this was having a huge effect on him, but he was more interested in what it was doing to Katherine. He’d been led to believe that women took a more restrained attitude to bedroom activities. Clearly, Katherine didn’t, and he understood that their previous, first time, had not been as wonderful for her, from a physical point of view, as it had been for him. Tonight, he was determined, would be different.

When at last Katherine could take no more—and neither could he—she begged him to join her beneath the covers where they stroked and fondled each other between and during kisses.

So this would be what he’d be missing for the rest of his life. It was torture to discover something truly wonderful only to lose it.

“I could wait for you, Jack,” she suggested when they were sated, clasped in each other’s arms, staring at the ceiling in the darkness.

“For four years? I don’t think that’s practical, Katherine.”

“So, you don’t want me to wait for you?” She sounded hurt.

“I want you to live your life to the full and not go into a spinsterish decline on my account.” The words made him feel too old for his years, but they were true. He reached for the candle and raised it so he could see her better. Her eyes were luminous and her lips moist and swollen from kissing him. Pain washed over him as he whispered, putting down the candle and cuddling beside her again, “I don’t want to subject you to the fate of the wives of explorers who disappear to the other side of the world, perhaps never to return.”

She gasped and put her head on his chest. “You will come back, won’t you, Jack?”

“It’s my intention. But I don’t know when.” He felt sad. “You know I can’t take a wife, but if I could, I’d take you.”

She nodded, staring at her fingernails. “I’d not burden you, Jack.”

“Lord,

it would be no burden. But for some of the time I’ll be in single quarters. I’d not be allowed a wife and nor would I have the means to keep one. And I’ll be travelling constantly, at least for the first year or two. Yes, I know of fellows who pledge marriage for their return, but you can do so much better than me. We’ve only had a week to rekindle our friendship”

“More than just friendship!”

“Yes, of course, more than that.” Jack bit back the words that sprang to his lips. He’d not be complicit in encouraging declarations of love that would in turn burden Katherine. She was so full of vitality, and if she could love him with such enthusiasm, and so quickly, he felt that spirit should be channelled to worthier causes. Not that he didn’t consider himself deserving. It’s just that their time was not right. Katherine was seventeen years old, and about to be launched into the adult world to find a husband and establish her own household. They’d been childhood friends, and they’d found love—inconveniently, he acknowledged this reluctantly—but it was not a love that had a future.

She was tearful as he walked with her towards the bedroom door. He held the candle aloft and bent to kiss the wetness from her cheeks.

“If you change your mind and want me to come with you, I’d do it, Jack,” she declared.

She was lovely. So impulsive and sincere. It would, he feared, get her into a great deal of trouble in her lifetime. Katherine had always been impulsive. But with her spirit, she’d find happiness with someone else. He hoped his greatest regret wouldn’t be losing her.

But at least he’d leave with the sweetness of her loving on his skin and the knowledge she had the world at her feet.

For what greater gift could he give her than her freedom?

Chapter 12

Katherine tried not to cry as she accompanied her mother and aunt to the lobby of Quamby’s London townhouse. Pausing on the landing, she saw Jack below, bent over his trunk, checking the leather straps that secured it were fastened firmly. With the back of his neck exposed, he seemed frighteningly vulnerable. Would he be safe when he was gone? What dangers would he encounter?

Of course, her fears would not be shared by him. Katherine knew how much this adventure meant to Jack. Before their friendship had developed into unexpected love, he’d talked endlessly of his excitement at leaving the cold and familiar climes of their homeland to make his own way in the world. And to make his own fortune.

Tags: Beverley Oakley Historical
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