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Jakob smiled briefly. ‘I can tell.’
Desire glared at him, her indignation fading as it occurred to her how good-tempered her abductor seemed to be. She’d undoubtedly caused him considerable inconvenience—and repeatedly provoked his exasperation—but he’d never responded with anger. She wasn’t fool enough to believe she could have stopped him if he’d tried to hurt or violate her.
He was a puzzle to her.
‘Whose house are we going to?’ she asked.
‘Kilverdale’s,’ he replied.
‘Kilverdale?’ Desire repeated blankly. ‘The Duke?’
Jakob nodded.
Enlightenment crept over Desire in slow, sickening waves of understanding. She stared at Jakob in shock as every piece of the puzzle finally became clear to her.
On the roof, three days’ ago, she’d believed the brute with the pistol had intended her for his own bride. Now she knew better. He’d been stealing her for another man—the Duke of Kilverdale. And when the original plan had failed, Jakob had returned at the first opportunity to complete the task.
What a fool she’d been. Insensibly she’d begun to trust Jakob’s motives—now she knew better. He’d admitted he’d been a soldier. A mercenary, no doubt. He was still selling his loyalty to the highest bidder. She tasted the acid of bitter disappointment as she absorbed her new understanding. No wonder Jakob had saved her from burning and hadn’t hurt her in any other way. He was being paid to deliver undamaged goods to the Duke.
‘How much?’ she croaked.
‘What?’ He looked at her blankly.
‘How much is he paying you for me?’ she demanded.
‘Who?’
‘Kilverdale! How much is he paying you?’ her voice rose angrily.
‘Kilverdale?’ Jakob sounded dumbfounded by her question, but Desire was too upset to notice.
‘I’ll double it,’ she promised him. ‘If you take me to Arscott, I’ll give you twice as much as the Duke is paying you. I swear I can.’
She lurched forward, sinking on to her knees in front of Jakob. The boat rocked as she seized one of his knees, gripping it urgently in her anxiety to make him attend her.
‘I’ll pay you,’ she repeated, staring desperately into his eyes to see if her words were having any effect on him. ‘From my chest. Arscott rescued it from the fire. Take me to him. You’ll be rich. Don’t give me to Kilverdale. Please! Don’t give me to him!’
Her voice cracked on her last words. Panic threatened to overwhelm her.
‘Don’t give me to him,’ she whispered, starting to tremble as the full horror of her situation finally came home to her.
Jakob released the oars, letting the boat drift as he gave all his attention to Desire. He was shaken by the sight of her begging on her knees before him, stunned by her obvious terror. Until now he’d only been aware of her courage, not her fear. Why did Kilverdale’s name reduce her to panic? The Duke had a reputation for being something of a rake, but he wasn’t cruel to his female conquests.
‘I’m not giving you to anyone, älskling,’ Jakob said gently.
She was so close to him, on her knees between his spread legs. He put his hands on her waist, feeling how she trembled. He stroked his bandaged hands reassuringly up and down her sides. Her bodice wasn’t boned and he could feel the supple warmth of her body through the fabric. Her fingers clutched convulsively at his leg. Despite her obvious distress he couldn’t help finding the situation arousing. He knew that wasn’t her intention. He doubted if she was even aware that she was touching him.
Her face was white beneath the grime of the fire, her eyes wide with fear. She stared at him desperately for a few seconds longer, then abruptly closed her eyes and lowered her head. A deep shudder coursed through her body.
He pushed a strand of wet hair behind her ear with sore fingertips. The bandages she’d wrapped around his hands were already soiled and ragged.
‘I’m not giving you to anyone, älskling,’ he repeated softly. ‘No one is going to hurt you. You saved my life on your roof. Now I’m doing my best to protect you from harm. And when you are safely restored to your home, I will be insulted if you open your treasure chest for me.’
Another shiver rippled through Desire. She kept her head resolutely bowed. He wasn’t sure if she’d comprehended—or even heard—what he’d just said.
He gave in to temptation and slipped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer until she was cradled against his chest. Over her head he could see the thick, horrifying pall of smoke which shrouded the now distant London. He’d been watching it through all the twists and turns of the river since they’d left the Strand. He wondered if any of the city was left. How had the fire started? Were any of the rumours he’d heard while he was trapped in Newgate true?
Desire still trembled against him, neither resisting nor yielding to him. He held her close, needing the comfort of her warm supple body in his arms as much as he suspected she needed his reassurance. Well, perhaps he wasn’t her ideal comforter, he acknowledged, with a wry twist of his lips, but he was the best available.
‘You’re safe, milady,’ he murmured against her tangled hair. ‘No one will hurt you now.’
Desire kept her eyes tightly closed. She heard Jakob’s reassurances, but she didn’t know how to respond to them. She didn’t know how she’d ended up in his arms. Her cheek was pressed against the firm plane of his upper chest. Her head nestled under his chin. She felt him stroke her back and a gentle touch against her hair.
One of her palms lay flat against his shoulder. As her panic subsided she became acutely aware of his hard, half-naked male body against hers, surrounding her with his virile strength. The sensation was unfamiliar. Disturbing, but not entirely unpleasant. Her pulse rate began to increase once more, not from blind terror this time, but from a peculiar mixture of excitement, shyness and illicit pleasure.
It was shocking to let Jakob hold her like this. She was shocked at herself that she could enjoy it even a little bit. But she did. She tried to tell herself it was just because it was so long since anyone had held her in a comforting embrace—but she knew it was more than that. Her fingers flexed against his skin. She wanted to slide her hand over his torso, explore all the firm planes and ridges of his muscles with her fingertips—not just her eyes.
‘No one will hurt you,’ he said softly, and she remembered Kilverdale.
She jerked against him in a silent protest at being reminded of the humiliation that lay ahead of her.
‘Älskling, you have my word,’ Jakob promised her. She felt his words vibrating deep in his chest. ‘I did not take you for Kilverdale. I will not let him—or anyone else—harm you.’
‘Not Kilverdale?’ she whispered, not quite able to believe the reassurance.
‘Not Kilverdale,’ Jakob confirmed. ‘He does not even know I’ve met you. He certainly isn’t expecting you to arrive at his house. There’s nothing to fear. But why are you so afraid of the Duke?’
‘I’m not afraid of him.’ Desire lifted her head indignantly. ‘He is a hateful slug and I loathe him. But I am not afraid of him.’
‘Hateful slug?’ Jakob murmured disbelievingly. ‘In silk brocade and lace?’
His face was very close to hers. His cheeks were grimed with soot, but she could see the small, pale smile creases around his eyes. After a moment she saw his gaze drop to focus on her mouth. She caught her lower lip between her teeth. Excitement fluttered behind her ribs. She found herself looking at his mouth. It was quite beautiful. His lips were well shaped, firm and sensual.
Unfamiliar tension wound through her belly. Of its own accord, her hand began to slide over his body. She heard his quick intake of breath, felt the crinkled hair on his chest tickle her fingers. Her breathing grew quick and shallow. She felt the rapid rise and fall of Jakob’s broad chest beneath her hand. His blue eyes darkened until they were almost black.
In a breathtaking instant he took her captive. His powerful thighs closed, holding her hips still. He curved one possessive arm around her waist, while his other hand gripped the back of her head.
Then he kissed her.
His action stunned Desire. No one had ever kissed her on the mouth before. She was unprepared for the strength of her physical and emotional response. One moment she wanted to wrench herself out of Jakob’s dominating embrace. The next second she wanted to press closer to him. Her thoughts were too chaotic to allow her to take rational action.
His lips were warm against her mouth, sometimes commanding, at other times gently coaxing. His tongue stroked her lower lip, half-scandalising her, even as she experienced a new throbbing deep in her belly. She gasped, stirring restlessly between his legs. His tongue immediately probed between her parted lips. She was overwhelmed with the virile taste and smell of him.
The deep, compelling needs that consumed her suddenly became too powerful. Too unfamiliar. Alarming in their wild intensity.
She jerked her head away from Jakob’s. Turned her face aside as she panted for breath.
After a moment she felt his legs relax their grip on her hips. He still held her in his arms, but she was trembling so much she might have collapsed if he’d released her. She didn’t look at him, but she could almost see the disturbing tension that pulsed between their bodies.
Her hand was still pressed against his naked shoulder. She snatched it away, curling it into a fist she hugged protectively to her body. As her heartbeat slowed a little, no longer thundering in her ears, she realised Jakob’s breathing was also ragged.
For several long moments they remained frozen in the same position, neither making any attempt to speak. At last Jakob cleared his throat.
‘You were well named, my Lady Desire,’ he said hoarsely, a hint of wry amusement in his voice.
‘No!’ Desire threw him a startled glance, then scrambled out of his reach to the relative safety of the wooden seat opposite him.
‘My father desired a child. A child who would live,’ she said vehemently. ‘“Hope deferred maketh the heart sick,”’ she quoted furiously from the Bible. ‘“But when the desire cometh, it is a tree of life.” None of his other children survived. It was in gratitude to God’s mercy Father named me. Not…not…I am not wanton!’
‘I never said so!’ Jakob exclaimed. ‘It is the desire you arouse in others—in me—that I meant.’
‘Desire?’ Desire stared at him, startled and disbelieving. ‘You desire…?’
Her eyes dropped. She had lived a sheltered life for many years, but she still retained a vivid recollection of her mother’s account of a wife’s duties in the marital bed. Her knowledge of what that might entail had been greatly enhanced when she had arrived unheralded in the stables one day and discovered one of the grooms in an intimate embrace with a maid.
It was the last occasion for a long time she’d ever visited any of the servants’ quarters without making sure everyone knew about her plans in advance. But the incident had left her with a certain residual curiosity.
Was that…? Was there a greater bulge in Jakob’s breeches than there had been before?
Disconcerted, uncertain how to react, she pressed her hand against her lips.
She heard Jakob’s rough, disbelieving laugh and her eyes flew to his face.
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘What?’ Desire’s blush was so intense she was sure it covered her entire body.
‘My lady…’ He dragged in a lungful of air, and exhaled in a long, disbelieving breath. ‘You have discountenanced me,’ he declared. ‘What can I say?’
‘Nothing.’ Desire was burning up with mortification. ‘You are to say nothing,’ she ordered him in a strangled voice. ‘Take me to Arscott!’ She pointed an imperious finger in an entirely random direction.
‘Why? Do you imagine he will satisfy your needs better than I can?’ Jakob demanded, his voice suddenly harsh.
‘He’s my steward!’ she denied energetically. But she flushed with embarrassment at the objectionable image Jakob’s words called to mind. The growing threat of the fire had enabled her to delay giving Arscott a response to his proposal, but soon she would have to tell him she didn’t want to marry him. She hoped it wouldn’t create an awkwardness in their future relationship.
‘You do!’ Jakob’s voice emerged as little more than a growl. ‘Are you lovers?’
‘No!’
‘What then? Why did you flush when I—?’
‘I’m…I’m going to marry him!’ Desire interrupted, before Jakob could finish his dreadful accusation.
‘Marry him? When did you decide that?’
‘I…it seems a sensible solution.’ Desire lifted her head. It was far better for Jakob to believe she’d blushed because she was Arscott’s betrothed than that the steward was her lover. Besides, there might be some measure of protection in allowing Jakob to believe she was already promised to another man.
‘I’m sure Arscott will be an excellent husband,’ she said, putting as much conviction into her voice as she could.
‘Have you tried him?’
‘No!’
‘Then how do you know? What if he fails to rise to your expectations after the knot has been tied?’
Desire gasped. ‘You are crude and unmannerly. You should learn to control your tongue.’
‘You should learn to control your eyes.’
Desire gripped her hands together and locked her gaze firmly on her lap. Not because she was following Jakob’s advice. She’d temporarily run out of verbal ammunition.
‘When is the wedding?’ asked Jakob, with heavy politeness.
‘It has not…no date has yet been fixed,’ Desire replied stiffly.
‘Why not? You’re available. He’s available—and living under the same roof. Why delay even a day? Or are you waiting for his ailing wife to die first?’
‘He’s not married!’ Desire said indignantly. ‘I would never consider marrying someone who already had a wife!’
‘Hmm.’ Jakob gazed at her thoughtfully. ‘When did you first take a notion to marry Arscott?’
‘That is none of your business!’
‘Did he, by any chance, first mention it on Saturday evening, after I was dragged off to Newgate?’
Desire stared at him, startled by the accuracy of his guess. ‘How…? I mean, that is none of your business!’ she repeated, angry at finding herself discussing such a subject with her abductor.
‘It wasn’t my business until I was propositioned in a Dover inn,’ Jakob muttered. ‘If I’d known I was going to get thrown into gaol, nearly burned alive and abused by a hornet-tongued harridan for my pains, I’d have done more to suppress my chivalrous instincts.’
‘Chivalrous!’ Desire glared at him. ‘Hornet-tongued! You’re as gallant as…as a toad!’
‘That may be so. But why would you choose to marry your steward? A man far below you in rank and wealth, when you could have anyone—’
‘No, I couldn’t,’ Desire interrupted him, her voice raw with remembered pain. ‘I’m a harridan. You just said so! I can have any man who wants to marry a fortune—as long as he’s not already encumbered with a wife,’ she added as a bitter afterthought. ‘That’s what you meant, isn’t it? That I should buy a young, virile husband? Then pretend I don’t notice when he scorns me for a beautiful whore? Or pay him for every night he condescends to lie in my bed?’
Jakob didn’t immediately answer. The rowing boat had long since come to rest against the riverbank, and now they were attracting a crowd of curious observers. The sun had nearly set. Soon it would be dark and he knew they were vulnerable. He’d left the iron bar from the prison on Desire’s roof. He had nothing to defend them with but the oars and Desire had all but announced she was a prize worth taking.
He manoeuvred the boat back into the middle of the Thames, determined to get them to the safety of Kilverdale House without delay.
He understood Desire better now. She was sitting bolt upright on the wooden seat opposite him, her shoulders braced with pride—but her head was averted. He was sure she regretted her heated, unwary words. He wasn’t proud that he’d provoked her into humiliating herself. Despite her determination to stand up to him, it was obvious how little experience she had of the world. He remembered only too clearly how she’d turned her back on him when he’d first appeared on her roof. She’d never learnt how to guard her emotions behind a mask of sophistication. Everything she felt was written in her expressive eyes. Anger, fear, indignation, curiosity…
He had to suppress a disbelieving laugh as he recalled how her eyes had boldly sought for the tell-tale signs of his arousal. In another woman he might have interpreted such a blatant assessment of his condition as a saucy invitation to continue his seduction. Desire, he had no doubt, was simply too naïve to disguise her curiosity.
As she’d already discovered, she aroused more than his curiosity. He found her passionate nature fiercely attractive. She’d fought him with uninhibited vigour outside the boathouse. He’d been acutely aware of her terror. He’d done everything he could not to hurt her. But even then he’d been partially aroused by her unrestrained resistance.
He wanted her. He wanted to transform her resistance into desire. He wanted to feel her supple, passionate body beneath his as he roused her to a state of physical ecstasy. He wanted to grapple with her, feel her arms and legs convulsively gripping him, as he pushed her over the edge.
He tried to suppress the erotic images that crowded his mind. He needed to keep a clear head. He needed to remember that the woman sitting in frigid silence opposite him was more than a passionate, hot-blooded wench. She was also a very wealthy woman. And her fortune made her a target for the unscrupulous.
