Secluded with the Rogue

7. Jack Fell Down

Jack Fell Down

J ack hadn’t smiled this much in ages.

“It’s just that I would hate to think you were only doing—” she waved a hand down to where he’d propped himself “— this, for my sake.”

“Not only for your sake.” Jack chuckled, amused but also baffled that her incessant babbling didn’t annoy him. But then she wiggled her hips most encouragingly. She was so deliciously wet, so hot and ready, and yet he savored drawing this out. Jack dipped his finger between her folds and then slowly inside.

“That,” she said. “Is…”

He chuckled again, touching her more creatively even as he wondered how long she’d be able to keep up this discussion regarding his technique.

And yet, somehow, despite the most unusual circumstances surrounding this encounter, he couldn’t recall enjoying a woman as much as he was this one.

Indeed, knowing it was to be a singular experience for her had something to do with that. Jack loved a good challenge.

He admired her courage, the fact that she would take such a risk rather than forgo experiencing one of life’s greatest pleasures. She was smart and compassionate and delightfully na?ve.

She was not at all what he’d expected. She was… incomparable.

“Jack.” She bucked, and he grasped her hips so she wouldn’t squirm away from him.

“Any more questions, sweetheart?” He couldn’t help but tease.

“No. No more.”

“You want me to stop?”

“No. Don’t. You—!” Jack worked his fingers in her channel and then gently pinched her clitoris between his lips. “Don’t stop!” She ordered.

Jack clamped his mouth around the swollen nub and sucked.

“That.” She arched her back. “That.”

“W as that memorable enough?” Jack dragged himself to lie beside her and then enjoyed that her cheeks were flushed a lovely pink. He held his mouth against hers, in what was a surprisingly chaste kiss.

She opened her eyes when he pulled away. “It was, thank you. Very memorable.”

This, Jack realized, was how one went about getting this woman to relax. Still lying on his side, he touched the side of her face and then slid his hand into her hair where, when she shifted, he felt a bump.

“You hurt yourself,” he said. “When you fell.”

“It’s nothing.”

Jack gentled his fingers, exploring the bruise at the same time he was looking over her, searching for any other injuries. He ought to have ensured she wasn’t hurt the moment he found her lying in the snow.

Finding scrapes on her hand sent a chill through him.

“Your gloves didn’t do much to protect you.”

“I wouldn’t be here if not for them—although you are right.” Her odd little statement broke into his thoughts.

Jack pressed her hand to his lips, waiting for her to explain.

“I would have had enough money to take a room in Half-Moon Village, but earlier that day, I’d found the prettiest lambskin gloves. It was silly of me, I know, but I never imagined I wouldn’t be arriving in Old St. Vincentshire today. So I spent a ridiculous amount of money on them.” She sighed. “And now they’re ruined.”

The confession jolted him. She had very nearly died because of a pair of gloves.

But then an expressive smile stretched her lips. “So, I am grateful for them. Otherwise, I never would have met you.”

“I’m not so sure that’s anything to be grateful for.” He’d took her to be a prostitute. He’d disregarded her well-being along with her innocence because he’d been caught up in his own agenda—along with his annoyance at being inconvenienced—by the holidays, by this journey, but also by any disruption to his schedule. He’d been annoyed at having to stop—at having to save her life.

He wasn’t enjoying this version of himself.

She sighed. “My sister gets annoyed when I do that.”

“Do what?” Jack noticed a sprinkling of freckles running over the bridge of her nose and dispersing on her cheeks. There were also twin red marks that her spectacles must have made.

“Perpetually point out the silver lining.”

“And you have decided that I am a silver lining?”

“Oh, yes.”

Jack wanted to scoff at that but instead asked. “What other silver linings have you found?”

She didn’t have to think hard. “I was lucky enough to have had two seasons, even if I didn’t have a proper come-out.”

“Why didn’t you have a proper come-out?” A debutante’s problems weren’t something Jack was usually interested in, and yet—he was.

“My older sister, Rachel, hadn’t landed a husband yet. So my mother only agreed to me being out so long as I didn’t expect a fuss. I was already nine and ten, so I was ecstatic.”

“How old are you now?”

“One and twenty.” Delia grimaced. “How old are you?”

“Nearly twice that.” He wasn’t really, but upon realizing how young she truly was, he felt it. Jack ran a hand through his hair. No one had asked his age in a very long time. “You seem older.”

She didn’t look older but simply spoke as though she were.

“My grandmother used to say I had an old soul.” She surprised him by touching the corner of his eye. “And you are not twice my age.”

“Six and thirty.” Jack stilled, his breath catching for some reason. He cleared his throat. “Will you miss society?” She’d spent money she shouldn’t have on a pretty pair of gloves.

“I will miss my friends. A few of the ladies, I think, will miss me. I didn’t dance very often, so I spent hours sitting with other wallflowers and chaperones and dowagers. Being a companion ought not to be much of a stretch. I think I will enjoy it.” She blinked, eyes unfocused. “But for now, I feel rather…”

“Yes?” Jack prompted.

“I feel as though I’m caught between two worlds.”

“I suppose you are.” Because she, a gently bred young woman, was in bed with a man who wasn’t her husband—a man she barely knew.

She trusted him merely because he’d picked her up off the side of the road—because he’d done the bare minimum to prevent a woman from dying in the cold.

“May I ask you a question?” she said.

“I may not answer it, but yes.” He stiffened. Was she going to ask who his family was? And then would she hint that she expected him to make an offer for her?

Was this some sort of elaborate trap?

“There is more, is there not?” She rolled her lips together.

“More?” And then he understood. Of course it wasn’t a trap. She’d been stranded in a blizzard, not waiting for him in some Mayfair garden.

Which was an occurrence he’d learned to avoid, but also one of the reasons he’d not attended a ton event in over five years.

“There is more.” But, unfortunately, as much as he wanted to bury his cock between her thighs, he was no longer sure he should.

Of course, he shouldn’t, but he’d managed to convince himself otherwise before he’d realized his mistake about her.

“You don’t want to?” She was nodding. “It’s quite alright. I understand, truly I do.” Her smile was wobbly.

“If we don’t,” Jack asked. “Will you, by chance, look for one of those silver linings you mentioned?”

She swallowed hard. “I’m rather good at that. I can usually find more than one.”

Jack rested his head on one hand, curious to hear what silver lining she’d find now.

“It is a blizzard outside,” she began. “But I am warm and safe in a soft bed, with a very kind man—a very handsome man—holding me. If you have changed your mind, well, then I am lucky to have experienced something uniquely pleasurable already.”

“Uniquely pleasurable?” Jack shot his brows up. “Only a few minutes ago, you said it was very memorable .”

“Oh, but it was. Very, very memorable.”

“But you want more—while you are caught between your two worlds.” Jack’s gaze lingered on the corner of her mouth, where right beside it, she had a hint of a dimple.

“Do you want more?” her voice emerged little more than a whisper.

He’d promised he wouldn’t spend in her, but he wasn’t fool enough to believe that was a fail-safe method.

And those sorts of consequences would change everything for her. Although, not necessarily for him—unless he allowed it.

She’d ask if he wanted more as well, and the answer to that was an easy one—depending on which part of his anatomy was allowed to decide.

“And what if you meet someone, some eligible bachelor while acting as a companion to this sweet old lady? What if he proposes marriage? He’ll expect you to be untouched.” Even as he presented the possibility, Jack found such a scenario objectionable. A chill swept through him. Was that because he recognized the unfairness of society’s norms, or because he disliked imagining the idea of some other man holding her the way he was now—of some other man tasting what he’d tasted?

“I suppose.” But she didn’t look at all happy to admit that. “Although, it’s not at all fair, is it?”

“No.” Jack kissed her softly again. The two of them would keep each other warm through the night, but that was all.

After this kiss.

And after she finished running her fingers over his chest.

“Y our skin is smooth,” Delia traced her hand over his shoulders. Although Jack had apparently changed his mind about, well, putting himself inside her , he seemed to like being touched like this.

But he had changed his mind.

He was a rogue, she did not doubt that, but he was not without scruples.

He kissed her again, and this time, the affectionate gesture was deliberately restrained. But it was also…

Unexpectedly tender. Almost as though he cared for her.

Delia inhaled, breathing him in but then chastised herself for beginning to imagine this night was anything more than what it was—a chance encounter—a pause from both of their everyday lives.

Jack stroked her cheek with his fingertips. “It’s for the best,” he said.

Delia blinked and dipped her chin, more disappointed than she ought to be.

“I’ll put out the candles,” he pushed himself up and left the bed, taking his warmth with him.

After having had him beside her, the cold air, along with a gust of reality, sent a shock through her own sensibilities.

She slid beneath the sheets and curled up. If anyone ever discovered what she’d already done, she’d be ruined in an instant.

Ruined. Not that it would affect Delia’s marriage prospects, which were non-existent, but it would mean she’d be unemployable. She’d be dismissed from her job before she could even begin.

But there was no way anyone could know.

Jack had promised to tell no one, but even so, she knew he wasn’t the sort to boast about his conquests.

She’d been easy enough to conquer.

And despite this being the most interesting thing she’d ever done, Delia certainly wasn’t about to share the details of what happened in this room—not even with her friend Bethany, to whom she’d promised to write diligently.

Furthermore, the only eligible bachelors who would ever come along to propose marriage to Delia were the ones in her imagination. Those heroes wouldn’t be shocked or insulted that she’d lain with another man before meeting them.

It was her fantasy, after all.

She wouldn’t beg. Earlier, Jack had stopped when she’d asked him. It would be hypocritical and unfair of her not to show the same courtesy.

Such relations between a man and a woman went two ways.

Delia watched as he stirred the fire in the hearth. With only the orange glow for illumination, shadows accentuated the contours of Jack’s sinewy shoulders and chest. And yet even without her spectacles, she could appreciate the consistent pattern of muscles on his abdomen that disappeared into his breeches.

She wasn’t intimidated by him, which was odd. He was sturdy, imposing, and distinguished—precisely the sort of man who typically made her tongue-tied and awkward.

Having extinguished the candles, Jack climbed into the bed and under the coverlet, this time keeping to the opposite side.

“There must be some silver lining,” she said.

He turned his head, his expression questioning.

“In spending the holidays with all of your family.”

He chuckled but then stared up at the ceiling and raised one arm to rest on his forehead. “I’m not the sort of person to look for silver linings, Delia. That sort of thing is fine for a lady, but I have responsibilities and silver linings don’t pay the bills.”

Delia turned on her back, contemplating his words. “I think you are wrong. Silver linings are the scraps a person clings to so that they can move forward. It gives them something when all hope is seemingly lost.” The thought bolstered her and made her feel like crying at the same time. “If I didn’t have my silver linings… I don’t think I’d have anything.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“But you have nothing to be sorry for.” She rolled onto her side again to find that he was facing her as well.

“I’m sorry that you live in silver linings.”

She laughed a little at that. “It isn’t all that bad. Really. I’m just feeling a little homesick.”

Jack shifted closer. “It’ll pass.”

“I know.”

“You’re shivering.” He shifted and pulled her into him. “Come here.”

Delia wasn’t cold. Was she homesick? Or just now realizing how lonely she’d been these past years? She hadn’t been alone, but she’d spent most of her time with people who seemed to look right through her.

“I’m eager to meet my new employers, take on my new role. Once I’ve settled in, I’ll be fine.” Perhaps she’d feel needed, even if only to fetch an older woman’s shawl or book or spectacles. But she would be providing companionship, possibly even friendship. Doing that would matter.

She would matter.

“You’ll be fine.” His voice sounded from above her head.

Delia snuggled closer.

“And you?”

“I’ll survive.” He sighed. “I like my nieces and nephews,” he surprised her by saying but then added, “For the most part.”

“Does your sister really have ten children?” Such a number was unfathomable.

“The oldest, David, is already six and twenty. Lavinia produced a new son about every two years after that. Kyle, then Thomas. Edward, Kelton, Marshal, Adam, Grady, and the twins—who are eight—Gloria and Mary.”

“Your sister is older than you.”

“By eight years.”

What would the holidays be like surrounded by such a large family?

“My grandmother will have invited all her closest friends as well.”

“So, the Christmas celebration will be a lively one,” Delia commented. She envied him.

“My grandmother has a giant heart—too big on some occasions.” He was smiling now.

“So, there are some silver linings there.” Delia pointed out.

“I suppose,” he shifted. “Are you comfortable?”

Delia lay content, his scent in her nostrils, soothed by the rise and fall of his chest. She doubted she’d ever been so comfortable in all her life.

Or that she ever would be again.

“Yes,” she barely managed.

“Good.” He relaxed beside her. “Now, go to sleep.”

But Delia didn’t want to go to sleep. Instead, she wanted to savor this moment. She wanted to experience it for as long as possible.

“Jack?” she said.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“Go to sleep.” But she could hear a smile in his voice.