Because . . . Lady Kinmarloch in a nightdress, her brown hair in a plait. Lady Kinmarloch, smelling of grass and cider and soap. Lady Kinmarloch, the one woman he might bed in the duchy of Dunmore without worry he was taking advantage, since, after all, as she had reminded him many times, she was a countess. In her own right.
He had not had a woman in over a week, and a week was a very long time for Jack Pike. He had thought he was going to have to wait until he got home to London. But with each passing second, it seemed more and more likely he would bed a woman much sooner than that.
Tonight, in fact. Here, in Dunmore Castle.
At the very least, her scent would feed his thoughts when he took himself in hand after she left his bedchamber. Even if she had come to castigate him about something like the sins of his predecessor. Even if he were mistaken about the reason she was sitting on his bed.
But he didn’t think he was mistaken. She wanted something from him, and usually, there was only one thing women wanted from him, only one thing they knew they could get.
However, she was not a usual woman. Not by a long chalk.
She looked away. “Jack, I must speak to ye.”
With her gaze averted, he felt free to skim his eyes over her barely protruding breasts. He might, he just might, be able to convince himself he saw erect nipples under the well-worn and much-laundered muslin of her nightdress. The same small nipples he had forced himself not to look at when her shirt had been wet from the stream, days ago.
What would those nipples taste like? Which of her scents? Grass? Or cider? Or soap? Cider, he decided.
“First, I must ask that naething which passes between us tonight be spoken about, ever, to anyone,” she said, still looking away. “Including yer master.”
She meant the Duke of Dunmore. Well, there was no difficulty there. No one would ever know what happened in this bedchamber tonight between the two of them. He could assure her of that.
“My lady.” His voice was a purr. “As I said this evening, I have no deep loyalty to the duke. He’s not my master, really. We just know each other. As long as you don’t want to lay a plot to assassinate the scoundrel, I promise you my complete discretion.”
“I mean it, Jack Pike.” She whipped her head around and glared at him.
He assumed his most serious countenance. “I won’t tell anyone. You have my word, Helen.”
He took an arm from behind his head and reached out and touched her lower back. She was all bone and muscle here, but there was warmth under the nightdress, and just a little lower down, her back began to curve out toward her bottom.
Her spine straightened under his hand, but she did not pull away. And was that a quiver? Promising.
She bit her lip before she spoke. “I have been thinking about what ye told me. About how there are many beautiful young ladies at these balls during the London Season. And how the Duke of Dunmore could be easily persuaded to marry one of them.” She swallowed. “I must marry well. Wealth or power. One or the other. Or both. I know I dinnae have much to offer, but my land splits the duchy. If the duke and I were to wed, our son would eventually be both duke and earl and the divided lands would be one again.”
Damn. He was wrong about why she was in his bedchamber.
But still. He did not remove his hand from her back. It felt so good right where it was. And Captain Jack Pike could easily steer the course of this encounter in an entirely different direction. He could, and he would.
“Jack, do ye think that is enough?’
He blinked. “Enough for what?”
“For the duke to marry me.”
“The duchy is not a rich one.”
“Aye. But my grandfather would have wanted the lands united. And as the duchess, I might stop the clearances. Permanently.”
He let his hand stroke downwards and now he was cupping the top of the near cheek of her small bottom.
“So you’ll settle for power,” he said absently. “But you have to realize the duke might need money from a marriage. The last duke did not marry wisely in terms of a dowry.”
“Aye.”
“It’s nothing against you, Helen.”
But I’d like to be against you. Very much.
She ducked her head. “Perhaps . . . I might have something else to offer the duke?”
