Mad Jack (Sherbrooke Brides 4)

“That’s a good thing. No, don’t breathe fire on me. I’m chastened. I’m not going to leap on you. I want to talk to you about something else. I’ve been thinking about your little sister. I’m wondering how we can get her away from your stepfather.”

He felt the bed give as she turned to face him. “You really want to have Georgie with us? Truly, Gray?”

“Yes,” he said, turning on his side. “I want her with us.”

“You’re not just saying this because you still feel so guilty about hurting me even though I finally granted you absolution?”

“No. The fact is, I know you’ll worry until we have her safe with us. You’ll fret. You might worry so much that you’ll never let me near you again. I’m not cut out to be celibate, Jack.”

“I was celibate until this afternoon. All in all, it was preferable to all this.”

“You were supposed to be celibate. You will look back on what you just said—not more than eight hours from now—and laugh at your foolishness. Now, back to your sister. What do you think?”

He could practically see her brain squirreling from one idea to another. Jack was smart—unless she lost all sense and crawled under the bed. He nearly laughed aloud again.

“My stepfather wouldn’t ever let her go if he believed for a minute that we actually wanted her. He’ll want revenge now, he’s just that way. He’ll use anything at all if he believes it will hurt us.”

“Yes,” he said, wrapping a handful of her hair slowly around his hand. “I think you’re right. He mustn’t know that we want her.” He dropped her hair, turned onto his back again, and crossed his arms behind his head. “A puzzle to tease me, when you’re tired of teasing me yourself.”

“Will you teach me how to tease you?”

He stilled. His body reacted predictably. He breathed out slow and deep. “Naturally. You have but to tell me when to commence your lessons.” He turned again to face her. He reached out his hand and stroked her hair. He could feel her warm breath, she was so close. He wanted her very much but had enough sense not to hurl himself on her.

“When will I stop hurting?”

He knew her flesh was chafed. “By morning,” he said, cupping her face in his hand. “No later than by tomorrow morning. No more than eight hours from now. Go to sleep. We’ll figure out what to do about Georgie.”

When Jack awoke, pale dawn light was coming in the tall, narrow windows. She was warm, utterly relaxed. She was also lying on top of Gray, her face tucked against his neck.

Oh, dear, she thought. Would he think she was teasing him? Was this teasing him? Very carefully, she began pulling up her nightgown. He remained asleep, snoring lightly. She kept pulling up her nightgown. Her legs were bare against his. She couldn’t believe the heat of him. When she finally had it up past her chest, every marvelous bit of him pressed against her, she whispered against his neck, between kisses, “Well, it’s morning. At least eight hours, and a very bright morning it is.”

“Good,” he said with no hesitation at all, making her wonder if he’d really been asleep, and rolled over on top of her. “Now let me show you what this lovemaking business is all about, the right way.”

Mrs. Hardley just smiled when she passed the earl of Northcliffe’s favorite bedchamber and heard sweet, very excited female laughter coming from within. And a man’s low voice, very deep and urgent. That bed was magic, her granny had told her some thirty years before. “Magic, that tester,” Granny had said. It produced more babes than the entire village of Sudburn.

She was still smiling when she saw her son racing down the corridor toward her, yelling, “Ma, a messenger brought this for Lord Cliffe. He

said it was real important.”

Jack was kissing his neck when there was a loud knock on the bedchamber door. Mrs. Hardley called out, “Forgive me, my lord, but there’s an urgent message just arrived for you.”

Gray slowly raised himself onto his elbows. He was within three seconds of kissing her breasts. He felt every inch of her beneath him. He shook his head to clear it. He was not many seconds from doing other things even more far-reaching. He shuddered, pressing himself down against her, wanting to cry, when Mrs. Hardley shouted again, “My lord, please, the message.”

“I’m sorry, Jack,” he said as he lifted himself off her. “Believe me, I’m really sorry.”

“Oh, dear, what message? What’s going on?”

“She could be dead, Gray. Oh, God. The messenger went first to your town house in London, then came here. At least a day was lost.”

Jack was hanging on by a thread. He knew it, but he didn’t know what to do about it. He raised her hand and lightly rubbed her palm against his cheek. “It’s possible, but it won’t help to dwell on it. You’re the most optimistic person I’ve ever met, Jack. Don’t turn into a doomsayer now.”

“She’s so little, Gray, so very little. There’s no one at Carlisle Manor for her, no one at all. She has Dolly, who’s been her nanny since Georgie was born, and the other servants who care for her, but no one who really loves her. Thank God my stepfather even bothered to tell me. I wonder why he did.”

“He did it to torment you.” He gathered her against him, kissing her hair. “We’ll be at Carlisle Manor by this afternoon. Then we’ll see.”

“He ignores her, Gray. I swear he doesn’t even know she’s there in his house.”

The carriage was moving slowly along Church Street, past the grand clock tower, straight down West Street to Kings Road and the pier. It was a beautiful sunny day in Brighton. The smell of the sea was sharp and exhilarating, the breeze off the water billowing up a lady’s skirts as she walked with her children along the pier.