Earl of Sussex (Wicked Lords of London 0.50)

“H-h-how are y-y-y-you still s-s-s-tanding?” she managed to ask between shivers. His clothes were soaked through and dripping.

“I am used to being wet and cold. But you, my lady, need to get inside.” He barked several orders to his crew and her staff and then he began climbing the steps off the beach and up to her home two at a time.

Either she was too cold to care, or he was exceptionally gentle, because she’d barely noticed any jostling as they climbed. Quite suddenly, they were at the top and he was striding toward the castle. Dimly she was aware of Creeves next to them, panting with the effort it took him to keep pace. “Captain,” he gasped. “Should I run ahead and tell ‘em yer comin’?”

“No need,” he said. She felt a tiny rumble of laughter in his chest and despite the cold, her lips turned up a little. Creeves had gone mad if he thought he’d outpace the captain to the door.

“I-I c-can walk,” she pushed past her lips, her tremor lessening as they moved away from the beach and the strong wind that bit at the shore.

“I’ll hold you,” he murmured, his lips vibrating against the top of her head. “I’ll have you inside in a moment and tucked into a nice warm bed.”

Bed. The word hummed through her head as images of the captain in her room, laying her on her bed, flitted through her mind. Places she’d never even been aware of heated at his words. More thoughts of their bodies pressed together, their clothes falling away, their mouths…

“Emilia,” her father’s voice boomed over the courtyard, interrupting her train of thought entirely.

Captain Andrews quickened his pace yet again, leaving Creeves behind. “She is very cold, my lord. She needs to get inside.”

“This way.” Her father turned as they came beside him and began walking toward the front door. “I trust you’ll give me a full accounting of what has happened.”

Emilia tried to lift her head to reply but before she could even think the words, the captain was answering. “Of course, my lord. I’ve twenty wet and frightened men on the beach. Do you have anywhere I might dry and warm them?”

Her father’s deep brogue bellowed for all to hear. “Bring ‘em intae the main hall.”

“Thank you, my lord,” the captain replied as he strode through the double doors, the warmth of the castle touching her skin. With a sigh, she closed her eyes again.

“No sleeping,” Jack looked down at the lovely woman curled in his arms. He’d strip her down himself and hold her close to warm her freezing skin, consequences be damned, if that was what it took to save her. He owed her nothing less after what she had done for him and his men.

Her lashes fluttered open again, revealing the deep pools of her green eyes. Her gaze was confused as she looked up at him, her sweet mouth puckering in the most delightful way. “Sleep?” she murmured.

“That’s right. Stay awake for me now, my lady. Emilia, is it?” He gave her a smile that felt forced, even to him. In all honestly, he was frightened. More so than he’d been out on the ocean or even when the dinghy had tipped. He’d long ago deemed his own life expendable. Worth little or nothing. But she was another matter entirely. Any woman strong enough to toss herself out onto the open ocean to save a group of strangers deserved all the best life had to offer.

“Mmhhh,” she replied slowly. “You’re warm.”

This time the tugging up of his lips was genuine rather than forced. “And you are quite beautiful.”

Her eyes opened wider then. “That’s kind.” Her head lolled to the side as though she were drunk.

He jostled her in his arms as her father led him up the stairs. It wasn’t meant to be kind, it was the truth. “You doubt my words?” he asked a good deal louder than necessary.

Her head came back up. “My sisters are beautiful. Fiona has flaming red hair as wild as her spirit…” Her voice drifted off again.

“Sisters? How many?” he asked, mostly to keep her talking.

“Two,” she murmured.

“And who is the other?”

“Ainsley. Everyone loves Ainsley. Everywhere she goes people tell her...” Her voice began to fade and her father looked back at them. He was a large man with hair that looked as though it had been quite red, but was now streaked with grey. Everything about him commanded respect, except his eyes. They were filled with worry. Jack was sure his own gaze mirrored the emotion.

“What do people tell Ainsley?” Even to his own tongue, it felt strange to use their given names but he’d do anything to keep her talking.

“How charming she is. So accomplished.” Her head lifted. “And my cousin, Clarissa, you’d like her. She’s English.”

His eyebrow quirked. She had clearly identified his accent as English though he had no idea why that meant he might like her cousin. He disliked a good many English men and women. Besides, he was at least half Scot. The other half was another matter entirely.

“Does she go around saving ships full of sailors too?” He gave her another little jostle just to keep her awake.

Jack heard her father grunt. “She didna’.”