Captain Jack's Woman (Bastion Club 0.50)

; “Regardless of what you tell them.”

The finality in his deep tones was not encouraging. But his scheme was the epitome of madness. “You said yourself it was a foolish thing to do. What if they, and the rest of your gang, discover the truth?”

“They won’t. Not while I’m there to make sure of it.”

His convinction sounded unshakable. How illogical, Kit thought, to be arguing for an outcome she didn’t really desire. Yet the more she considered his scheme, the more dangerous it seemed. Luckily, she had herself well in hand. He was offering just the sort of excitement that appealed to her wilder self. She narrowed her eyes and chose her words carefully. “How do I know you won’t give me away?”

Jack’s eyes glittered. She was getting very close to the bone. What did she think he was—an overreactive schoolboy? Coolly, deliberately, he let his gaze wander, lingering on her breasts—not visible anymore, but he knew they were there—before drifting downward for a leisurely perusal of her long legs.

Kit blushed. And pounced the instant before he did. “Like that!” It hadn’t been what she’d meant, but it would prove her point.

Jack blinked, then flushed with annoyance. He scowled ferociously. “I won’t! What would I have to gain from giving you away?” His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “I can assure you I’ll behave exactly as if you were the lad they all think you are.” He didn’t consider it wise to tell her what it was more likely the men would think if they realized he was overly interested in Young Kit. “I can’t, of course, answer for your reactions.”

Kit’s temper ignited. Of all the insufferable, conceited louts she’d ever faced, Jack took the cake. Presumably he knew he was gorgeous. Doubtless scores of women had told him so. Hell would freeze before he heard those words from her! Kit tilted her nose in the air. “What reactions?”

Jack hooted with laughter. Abruptly, he stood and flung the chair aside. All thought of his mission, of sense and safety, fled at her challenge. No reactions to him? He advanced on the bed.

Kit’s eyes felt as if they’d pop from her head. Horrified, she tried to shuffle back in the bed but her elbows tangled in the covers and she sprawled full-length instead. Then he was towering over her, his shadow engulfing her. Hands on hips, he looked down at her from the foot, of the bed. He held out one hand. “Come here.”

He was mad. She had no intention of going anywhere near him. He was smiling now, devilishly. She decided she preferred his scowl—it was infinitely less threatening. She tried a scowl of her own.

Jack’s smile gained intensity; his eyes grew brighter. He had every intention of putting the vixen in her place once and for all. She was giving him more trouble than a troop of drunken cavalry. First she played the tease, curling on the bed so much like a cat he was quite sure that if he’d stroked her she’d have purred. Now, because he’d forced her into a blush, she was playing the threatened virgin.

But he wasn’t so far gone in lunacy as to get on the bed with her. When she continued to scowl, her amethyst eyes spitting purple chips, he made a grab for her hand.

Unfortunately, Kit chose the same moment to sit up, the better to deliver a verbal broadside. She saw his movement; he saw hers. Both tried to compensate. Jack’s fingers curled about her hand as he tried to straighten to avoid a collision of heads. Kit half rose, then fell back, wrenching her hand in an effort to free it. The result was the reverse of both their intentions. Jack’s leg hit the bed end and he stumbled, then was pulled off-balance by the unexpected violence of Kit’s tug. He landed on the bed beside her.

Kit smothered a shriek and tried to roll off the bed. A large hand grabbed her hip and rolled her back. A curse she didn’t comprehend fell on her ears. Memories of tussles with her cousins awoke in her brain. Instead of fighting the pull, she turned with it.

It was purely reflex action that saved Jack’s manly parts from Kit’s rising knee. Giving up any attempt at gentlemanly behavior, he grabbed both her hands and swung over her, straddling her hips, pinning her beneath him.

To his amazement, she continued to struggle, her hips writhing between his thighs.

“Be still, you witless wanton, or I won’t answer for the consequences!”

That stopped her. Wide eyes stared up at him. The front of her shirt rose and fell rapidly. Jack couldn’t see through it, but the memory of what lay beneath it acted powerfully on his brain. The temptation to let go of her hands and cup the sweet mounds grew stronger by the second. His palms tingled in anticipation.

Jack forced his gaze upward. He met her eyes and saw the panic there. Panic? Jack closed his eyes against the plea in the violet depths and drew a deep breath. What the hell was going on? Now, she even looked like a threatened virgin. As sanity slowly seeped back into his brain, the rigidity of the slim form between his thighs registered.

Could she be a virgin? Jack’s worldly brain rejected that idea out of hand. A woman of her background, of her age, with her attributes—one who declared herself “more than passing familiar” with men—could not be a virgin. Besides, she’d made moves enough that smacked of experience. No. The truth was, she didn’t, for whatever reason, want him. Because he wanted her? Some women were like that. Jack prided himself on his knowledge of the female sex. He’d spent fifteen and more years in an extensive study of the fascinating creatures. In between fighting a few wars. If she really had taken an aversion to him, he could use it to his advantage in the short term. And when the need for Young Kit had passed, he could look forward to spending countless interesting hours changing her mind.

Jack opened his eyes and studied Kit’s face. She was scowling again. He smiled crookedly. He was aching with need, but she wasn’t about to welcome him aboard. Not yet.

He changed his hold on her hands, so that his thumbs rested in her palms. Slowly, deliberately, he moved his thumbs in a circular motion, caressing her sensitive skin. He watched as her eyes grew larger, rounder.

Kit was speechless. Worse, she was close to mindless. Neither her own experiences nor Amy’s had prepared her for the effect Jack was having on her. Despite the fact that he hadn’t even kissed her, she couldn’t think straight. His touch on her palms was driving little shivers down every nerve, focusing her mind on her hands, as if to distract her from the heat seeping insidiously through every vein, radiating from the junction of her thighs. There was a complementary heat above, where he straddled her. Dimly, she sensed a growing urge to lift her hips and press heat to heat. She resisted it, struggling to break free of his spell. “Let me go, Jack.” Her words were soft, feminine, not the decisive demand she intended at all.

Jack grinned, inordinately pleased to hear his name on her lips. “I’ll let you go if you promise to do as I ask.”

Kit frowned. Was he threatening her? It was an effort to put her thoughts into words. Particularly when he looked as if he’d like to eat her. Slowly. “What do you mean?” She asked.

“Be Young Kit for two months. After that, we’ll arrange your retirement.”And you can start your next assignment—as my mistress. Jack smiled into her beautiful eyes. He was sure they’d turn deepest violet when she climaxed. He was looking forward to conducting that experiment.

Kit couldn’t steady her breathing. She shook her head. “It’ll never work.”

“It’ll work. We’ll make it work.”

The idea was tempting, very tempting. Kit struggled to get a grip on the situation. “What if I won’t?”