Chapter Nine
Rain fell in a steady drizzle as Phoebe ran on foot to the cottage at the edge of her family’s property. Cold seeped through the wispy fabric of her gown, and the flimsy wrapper she’d draped over her head and shoulders did little to ward of the wet chill. Her heart hammered and her stomach churned with excitement.
What did James wish to tell her? She hardly dared to hope his affections mirrored her own. Would he kiss her again as he had beneath the tree? Would he press for other liberties? More importantly… would she resist him? Did she have the strength?
A trickle of nerves traced her spine, but whatever trepidations she might experience, she felt no inclination to turn back or abandon this reckless endeavor.
The cottage came into view through the mist and drizzle. The door hung slightly ajar and her heart leapt. He’s already here. She drew a ragged breath, and rushed through the portal, throwing the wooden door back with such force it banged against the wall. The cottage interior was surprisingly tidy and well kept, leaving her to wonder who else used this as a haven for clandestine trysts. She glanced quickly about the tiny hut and spotted James immediately. Their eyes collided with physical force and thrills of awareness shivered over Phoebe’s cold skin. Soaked through, he appeared dangerous and rugged, and oh so very virile.
He stepped forward, gaze intent upon her, intensity and wonder glinting in his eyes. “You came,” he said in a deep husky tone that reached into her core.
“Of course,” she whispered, too breathless with the sheer force of her emotion for him to speak louder.
He strode the remaining few feet between them and scooped her up in an impulsive embrace. His powerful arms consumed her. “You shouldn’t have,” he whispered. His breath blew hot and heavy in her ear.
“Perhaps not, but I wanted to.” She shivered, curling her arms around his neck. “What is it you wished to tell me?”
He settled her feet back to the floor, dragging his palms possessively down her curves and pressed his forehead to hers. “A dispatch rider carried my orders in yesterday—”
A gust of wind tore through the cabin, startling them both.
“By damn that’s cold!” James released her from his arms and quickly crossed the room to shut the door. He hesitated for a moment before lifting his eyes to her. His expression grew somber. “Tomorrow I rejoin my regiment.”
Devastated, Phoebe swayed on her feet. “So soon?” Visions of him charging into battle with hundreds of muskets and sabers aimed at his heart seared her mind. “Oh, James!” She ran forward and threw her arms around his shoulders. “I don’t want you to go.”
He gathered her up, linking his arms intimately around her middle. “And I have no wish to leave you.” After a moment he lifted his head. Their eyes locked and sheer magic lit the moment. “Phoebe…” her name fell from his lips like a favored delicacy and hunger flamed in his amber eyes.
Phoebe sighed. Lost. She could drown in those eyes. Drink from them.
The low burning desire in her belly built to an all-consuming fervor. Restless with unfulfilled passions, Phoebe twined her fingers through the hair at his nape. “Kiss me, Jamie.”
Without further urging he crushed his mouth to hers in a voraciously possessive kiss that matched her own greedy need. She leaned fully against his chest and tightened her hold around his shoulders for fear she’d crumble to the floor in a heap of sensation and longing. She needn’t have worried, however, James dipped an arm beneath her knees and in the next moment she was floating.
James crossed to the bed at the back of the crofters hut in three long strides.
Heart hammering Phoebe surrendered to the supreme perfection she found in his embrace. From the moment they’d met, she and James had been in perfect sync. Whatever history existed between their families… whatever reputation preceded him… Phoebe didn’t care. They were meant for each other, and she loved him. The realization was simple. Absolute. Clearer than the most flawless diamond. As he laid her back on the blue quilt covering the mattress, the emotion settled, and took root in her bones. She wanted to tell him, and may have, but his mouth never left hers. James devoured her lips, eclipsing any and all coherent thought.
The wet wool of his coat chafed against her bare arms. “You’re clothes are all wet,” she mumbled between heated kisses.
Wordlessly James drew back, standing over her with one knee propped on the mattress. He loosened the buttons of his uniform jacket and shrugged it onto the floor with a heavy thud. He then yanked the white lawn shirt—which did not appear the least bit damp—over his head, exposing the lean muscular expanse of his work hardened chest. Phoebe’s throat dried and her eyes grew wide as she took in every masculine inch of him. Apollo had nothing on James Witherspoon. Nothing. Reclined on the bed she lifted her arms to him in silent plea and invitation.
A roguish gleam sparkled in his eyes. “Your turn.”
Phoebe’s heart skipped a beat as he placed his hands on either side of her and braced himself on the mattress above her. Eager, she slid her palms along the honed camber of his chest, relishing his heat and the way his powerful muscles quivered beneath her touch. “You’ll have to help me,” she invited, grabbing hold of the brazen streak pulsing through her veins. The man was going to war; she may never have another chance to be with him and know him intimately… to love him fully.
James grinned. “Gladly, Siren.” He eased himself onto his right side, gently kissing the sensitive flesh just below her ear. He slipped his left hand behind her back, releasing the buttons lining her back with disconcerting skill. Phoebe chose not to dwell on it as he pressed a delicious trail of kisses down her neck. The damp silk slid easily off her shoulders at his bidding, and every inch of her flesh came alive beneath his expert touch.
“Are you left handed?”
“Yes,” he replied, continuing his work, easing the lavender gown down her torso and revealing the white chemise beneath. The thin fabric was completely transparent after being soaked through by the rainwater, leaving little to the imagination. Molten desire flared in his eyes as he took in the sight of her. He lowered his head, swirling his tongue around the dusky nipple beckoning through the fabric.
Phoebe gasped and shuddered from the sheer force of sensation his wet mouth invoked. Lightning hot desire scorched her insides, sending her spiraling into pleasure. She curled her fingers in his damp hair, holding him to her breast as he laved attention upon first one and then the other. She didn’t want him to stop. She’d never imagined love making could be so mindlessly wonderful.
After a few wicked moments he shifted further down her body, dragging the gown over her hips and finally discarding it on the floor. Next he turned his attention to her stockings. His palms circled her thighs, lingering for a moment before he deftly rolled it down her leg. The roughened width of his hands breezing over her flesh sent tingles sailing to every forbidden haven in her body. She wanted more. “James,” she murmured, unsure how to ask for what she desired.
“Yes, Siren?”
“I…I…”
James rose back over her body, pushing the chemise up as he went. He pressed a kiss to every newly exposed inch of flesh, stoking her passions to new heights.
Phoebe gave up any attempts to articulate, James seemed to know exactly what she wanted without being told.
* * *
James striped the last of her clothing away and pulled back, visually drinking her in. By God she was beautiful. How had a woman of such supreme quality come to be lying with a man of his ilk? Silvery blond tresses tumbled across the blue quilt like sunshine in the noon sky. Her lavender blue eyes sparkled up at him with breathtaking emotion welling in their depths, but more than emotion and desire, she regarded him with trust.
Trust.
The realization humbled him. Who was he to deserve such? She was a duke’s daughter. She could reach for any man, any station, and have it. The world rested at her fingertips and she’d chosen him. He wasn’t worthy. Didn’t deserve her.
James braced above her, squeezing his eyes shut. If he had any hope of getting what he needed to say out next he couldn’t look at her or he’d never manage to regain control. “Are you certain, Phoebe?” his voice came out a gravelly rasp. “D-do you know what comes next?”
Gentle palms fell to his arms. “Look at me, James?” Her voice, like sweet music, washed over him more arousing than any courtesan’s touch.
He opened his eyes and found himself staring into her luminescent face.
“I would not have come if I wasn’t sure.” She trailed her hands up the swell of his biceps to the toned curve of his shoulders, making it damnably hard to behave as any sort of a gentleman.
A little smile curved the corners of Phoebe’s voluptuous mouth. The little vixen was trying to seduce him! And it was working…
She lifted her head and took his mouth in a slow, impassioned kiss. Her lips locked so sweetly with his that he trembled. Any thoughts of stopping fled. Her kiss reached through the defenses he’d crafted over the years, down to his soul as though she alone could resurrect the goodness lying dormant within him. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and she sank back into the bedclothes, pulling him down… deeper… into her. In her arms nothing else in life mattered. Somehow she’d become everything to him. His reason for breathing.
And he was wrecked.
* * *
The entire tone of James’s body language changed. His ambiance morphed from playful to one of solemn passion. His touch became gentle, exploring, as though he wished to memorize every inch of her flesh. His every stroke and caress built with singular intent to possess her. Thrills shot through Phoebe as one hand slid down her belly into the forbidden fold of her most intimate place.
“Oh my god!” Phoebe threw herself back against the mattress. Pure bliss washed over and through her, awakening the whole of her being to the true pleasures of lovemaking. Fire ignited in her veins and she dissolved against his naked torso, desperate for the moment he would share this rapture and be as one with her. Her entire body—heart and soul—screamed for the sinful caresses he laved upon her. The tension coiled in his muscles spoke of restraint as though he fought to move at a reserved pace for her sake. The fact made her heart swell, but Phoebe wanted nothing to do with slow or reserved. She wanted James. She wanted what came after the kissing and touching. She wasn’t totally without knowledge of men.
“Why are you still wearing trousers, James.”
He groaned, the sound feral and base. Pure animalistic desire flared in his golden eyes. “You’re ready then?” She scarcely recognized the deep rasp of his voice.
She nodded, unable to form words. She breathed rapidly. Nerves and excitement whirling within her, adding to the building tension in her belly. Her heart thrummed madly, pumping heady doses of desire through her veins with every beat.
James rolled to the side of the bed and the chill air instantly prickled her skin. He sat and quickly set to work removing his boots and breeches. Embarrassed in the stark light of day, she averted her eyes, and pulled back the coverlet, slipping beneath.
James turned his head, a half smile quirking his lips. “Are you hiding from me, Siren?”
She shook her head, cheeks hot with a fevered blush. “Just cold.”
“Not to worry.” He rolled back into the bed beside her. “I’ll warm you.” He lifted the edge of the quilt and slid beneath, taking her back in his arms. He smoothed a hand over her hair, making firm eye contact with her as he pulled her beneath him.
The length of his erection pressed against her inner thigh, hot and a bit daunting. A flicker of apprehension dampened the hot passion coursing through her. That was certainly bigger than she’d expected. She gulped.
James must have noticed. He held her tenderly, remaining very still. She’d seen him do the same with frightened horses. “Is this what you want, Phoebe? But say the word and I will walk away.” This was a side of James she’d scarcely seen before. A glimpse of the serious, caring man he could be. For a long moment she searched his eyes—so soft and beautiful, like cat’s eye gems. His words made her more certain than ever that this—with him—was exactly what she wanted.
She parted her lips to answer, but instead reached between them sliding tentative fingers along the rigid length of his erection—smooth skin and heated iron.
James gasped. “Phoebe,” he bit out, “if you wish to stop—”
Fascinated she closed her hand around him, successfully cutting off his words, and grinned wickedly into his eyes. “Do you like this?”
Sparked to action, James seized her, the roguish lover returned. “Not as much as I like this.” He slid a palm around her lower back, tilting her hips up ever so slightly. Following his silent commands, Phoebe parted her legs, instinctively cradling him with her thighs. A moment later she felt him at her entrance and he entered her in one long fast thrust.
Sharp pain from the intrusion sent her bolt upright in the bed.
James caught and held her, murmuring sweet nothings into her ear as he eased her back onto the sheets. “Easy, love, it gets better, I promise. Trust me, Phoebe. Trust me.” She buried her face in his shoulder, blinking back the flash of tears. He stroked her hair and eased back out. Phoebe tensed, afraid the movement would cause more pain, but when he slid slowly inside her a second time there was no other discomfort. She began to relax and eased her grip on her shoulders. James sensed the change and increased the pace, pumping a third and then a fourth time. The dull ache ebbed fully and in its place a cluster of carnal pleasure built. Small at first, but soon she was consumed by mindless passion. All she knew was James, the musky scent of his skin, the delicious friction of their skin as they moved as one.
“Siren,” he groaned, increasing the rhythm to a near frenzied rate. Phoebe sensed him losing control and matched him stroke for stroke. Ecstasy built within her, stretching and reaching toward a point of pure magic. She drove on with James, knowing only he could push her over the edge. Together—as one—they rose higher, striving for heaven.
Phoebe tipped over the edge in an explosion of sensation and bliss. She cried out, clinging to him as he went rigid and then collapsed on top of her. Languid, she stroked his back, utterly spent, a contented smile on her lips. She didn’t want to move or think. Nothing in life could have prepared her for the extreme rapture that awaited in a lover’s embrace.
After an immeasurable space of time James rolled off of her, lying flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Phoebe turned on her side toward him and he curled an arm around her. She cuddled into his side. For a long while Phoebe listened to the steady rush of his breathing and ran her fingers through the light smattering of hair lining his chest.
She wished he’d say something. Quiet was fine and well, but after the life altering experience they’d just shared she wanted an overture of some sort, but James had fallen uncharacteristically quiet. Even one of his jokes would be preferable to the silence.
“We should get you home,” he said finally, disentangling himself from arms and legs and rolling out of the bed completely.
Not the overture she’d anticipated. She’d expected a proposal or declaration of sorts. Phoebe quashed her welling irritation, and bit back a retort. One would think the man could come up with a better statement after deflowering a virgin. She sat, securing the quilt around her torso. She tried to catch his eye, but he scooped his trousers off the floor, paying her little mind.
“I wish we could linger here a bit longer.” She kept her tone light, hoping to spark him out of the cold state he’d slipped into, but worry nibbled at her happiness.
He stood, pulling dark breeches over trim hips. “I have much to prepare before rejoining my regiment tomorrow. I suspect we’ll set sail in three days’ time.”
Disappointment banished a bit of the magic lingering in the cottage. “I still don’t want you to go.”
Finally he looked at her and his expression softened—or perhaps not so much softened as faltered. James released a heavy breath. “I know.” He flopped back on the bed, turning to face her, raised up on one elbow. A rakish gleam lit his eye as he drew an assessing gaze over her, bringing back the man she knew so well. “Leaving you is my greatest regret.” Heat flared in his eyes again. He grinned, snaring her about the waist and bearing her to the mattress beneath him.
She laughed aloud with joy.
“I’d much rather stay right here with you.” He brushed her hair away and nuzzled her neck. “Make love until the sun goes down… and then comes back up again.”
And he did love her again, just once more, before dragging himself away from her—his words—to return her home before suspicions arose.
“I understand your brother is away on business?” he asked as they dressed.
“Yes,” Phoebe replied, battling the dishabille of her hair and clothes. Between the rain and the impromptu love making her appearance was beyond repair. She could only hope to sneak in behind the kitchen and pray no one saw.
“Good.” James stood, appearance completely reassembled, and gave one of her wild curls an affectionate tug. “I’ll come to see you before I ride out tomorrow.” He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. “So don’t sleep until noon.” He smiled, crinkles forming at the corners of his lovely brown eyes, making her heart flop.
Relief suffused Phoebe, and she quickly dismissed his strange emotional distance after they’d made love the first time. If he planned to call on her at home he must have serious intentions toward her. Word would eventually get back to Edward, but by then she and James would have plans to elope—they may have to wait until he returned from the war though. Surely tomorrow morning he’d propose and proclaim his love for her. Phoebe nibbled her bottom lip. She’d hoped he’d declare himself now, but perhaps it was like her mother had always said, Men have no sense of timing or urgency.
Thusly assured, she slipped an arm through his and together they exited the cabin, walking in companionable silence through the damp forest. Blessedly the rain had stopped. Phoebe glanced about the trees, relishing this last bit of time alone with James. A flash of color caught her eye. She slowed, squinting through the underbrush and finally stopped altogether. “James, what is that?”
He glanced down at her and then at the roughage she stared into. “I don’t see anything.”
She pointed through the trees, a shiver tracing her spine. “Over there. It looks like someone is lying in the woods. A woman in a blue skirt.”
“Dear God.” James broke away from Phoebe, his expression grave as he strode into the woods. “Wait here.”
Ignoring the command, she followed him into the forest. Trepidation licked her middle and she shivered, peering around James. The woods were eerily quiet even with the recent rain storm. As they drew nearer bare ankles and feet became visible against the dark foliage. Phoebe hugged her arms around herself, but the chill leeched into her bones as the lifeless figure of woman took shape amongst the bushes. Dark hair spilled over her face, concealing her identity, but by all appearances she was young.
Wordlessly James knelt beside the body.
“What happened to her?” Phoebe stopped a few feet behind him. Thoroughly shaken.
“It appears she was murdered,” he said quietly, washing a palm across his jaw. “Strangled. There is bruising around her neck.”
“Who would do such a thing?” Phoebe backed up a step, a stick snapping beneath her heel, causing her to jump. “We must go to the magistrate at once.”
James stood, facing her, expression grim. “I’ll take care of it once you’re safely home. It won’t do for anyone to know you were alone with me this afternoon.” He closed the distance between them and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into the sheltering nook of his chest and shoulder. Gently he turned her away from the corpse.
Completely unnerved, Phoebe leaned into hiss warmth, but images of the slain woman refused to leave her mind.
Who was she? What had happened to her?
Dark clouds covered the sky, sending long shadows over the footpath, and an ominous pit of dread seeded in Phoebe’s stomach. She wanted nothing more than to snuggle up beside a warm, glowing fire to the comfort of her own home. The magic of her afternoon with James dampened in the face of the atrocity she’d stumbled across, and Sarah’s wedding seemed a distant memory as the Corsair estate loomed into view.
James drew them to a halt and stepped in front of Phoebe, expression somber and concerned. He folded her into his arms holding her tightly for a long moment.
She buried her face in his shoulder, battling the sudden urge to cry. Keeping her arms locked around him she tilted her head back, meeting his gaze. “Until tomorrow?”
The rigid lines around his mouth softened and the corners of his mouth tugged in a gesture that wasn’t quite a smile, but akin to one. “Until tomorrow,” he assured softly, stroking a palm against her back.
She forced a smile and stood on tiptoe to press a light kiss to his mouth. “Very well then.” She closed her eyes, quashing the words, I love you, as they swept unbidden to her lips. Tomorrow. Tomorrow would be as good a time as any for declarations. Tomorrow would be perfect.
* * *
Darkness closed in around James as he, the local magistrate—Thaddeus Burk, and two other gentlemen from the village circled the murdered young woman in the woods.
“If I’m not mistaken this is Jenny McGivern,” Burk said thoughtfully stroking a thumb and forefinger across his jaw. “Seems she had a falling out with her mother earlier this week. Don’t know what about, but Widow McGivern is going to take this awful hard.”
James shook his head, what a sad situation.
“You wouldn’t know anything about that, Colonel?”
Confused, James quirked a brow at the magistrate. “About Miss McGivern having a falling out with her mother?” He shrugged. “I’ve never seen this girl before in my life.”
Burk nodded and stood, keeping a wary eye on James. “What exactly were you doing out here in this foul weather?”
James tensed. He didn’t like Burk’s accusatory tone. “Just clearing my head after Captain Collins wedding.” He sure as Hell wasn’t going to disclose that he’d spent the afternoon alone with Phoebe Landon. “I wasn’t walking in the storm. The rain stopped some time ago. As you can see I am perfectly dry.”
The magistrate said nothing more, merely shifted his attention to the other men. “Load her up in the wagon. I’ll speak with the girl’s mother once we’re back to the village.”
“Yes, sir.” The men quickly complied, rolling Miss McGivern into a blanket.
Saddened by the display, James sighed. He’d seen so much death in his life he was growing weary of it. His imminent return to duty and the war whisked through his head, followed quickly by memories of his afternoon with Phoebe.
Panic consumed him. He’d been a fool today. A mindless, lustful fool. Only after he’d taken her, shredded her innocence, had his sanity returned. He had no idea what to do about the situation. The manner in which he’d lost all control in her arms scared the living hell out of him.
Raking a palm through his hair, he strode back to the narrow road. After a day like this, he wanted nothing more than to drown himself in a bottle of whiskey.