The Vagabond Duchess. Claire Thornton

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      She heard the truth in his voice and stopped trying to pull herself out of his embrace.

      ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do,’ she whispered.

      ‘You’ll manage.’ He rested his forehead against hers for a moment. ‘But not tonight. You don’t have to manage anything tonight. Come on,’ he urged her to move back up the bed. ‘Lie down again. Rest. We’ll face our next set of problems in the morning.’

      It was an awkward realignment. Jack knelt on Temperance’s skirt in the darkness and she scrabbled ineffectually against the mattress before she realised what was wrong, but at last they were lying next to each other again.

      Temperance turned on to her back and gazed upwards. She gave a gasping groan and rolled on to her side.

      ‘It’s on the ceiling!’ She couldn’t believe the shadows of the fire even danced there. The monster was everywhere. In her home, in her nightmare, and even in the temporary safety of this rathole Jack had found for them.

      ‘I know,’ said Jack.

      ‘I can’t sleep now.’ She bit her lip because she was determined not to cry any more. ‘Every time I close my eyes I can see it!’

      ‘Think of something else.’ He stroked her arm.

      ‘I don’t know anything else.’

      ‘What?’

      ‘I’ve never been anywhere but London. In all my memories London is there. Now it isn’t… You tell me something else.’ She laid her hand on his shoulder. He’d removed his coat and she could feel the firm muscles beneath his linen shirt. ‘You’ve been so many places. Tell me about one of them.’

      ‘My home’s in Sussex,’ he said, after a moment. ‘Shall I tell you about that?’

      ‘Yes.’ She wondered if his home was in his mind because of her loss. ‘Please tell me.’

      ‘It’s green,’ he said. ‘I last saw it in April and everything was green. New buds and leaves. The daffodils made a brave show beneath the trees. Bright sunshine yellow.’

      ‘Good colours,’ Temperance murmured, clinging to the image of sunshine-yellow daffodils instead of the hideous red and black of fiery destruction.

      ‘Very good.’ He brushed his lips against her forehead. ‘The village green was in full bloom.’

      ‘What village?’ Temperance moved a little closer to him.

      ‘Arunhurst,’ he replied. ‘The church is very pretty. Norman…’ He kissed her cheek.

      ‘What church?’ Her hand slid around his waist of its own volition.

      ‘St Mary’s.’ His breath caressed her skin.

      She turned her head and his lips found hers. The kiss began gentle and comforting, but almost immediately desperate passion exploded between them. Her hand locked in his shirt and she pulled him closer, responding without thought of consequences. Her whole world had collapsed around her ears, but Jack was strong and reassuringly vital. Alive.

      He rolled her on to her back and deepened the kiss. His tongue was so bold. She’d never imagined anything like it. Excitement leapt within her. She lifted her hand to touch him and felt the crisp brush of his short hair against her fingers. She tugged desperately at his shirt so she could feel his bare skin. She needed to wrap her arms around him. To get as close as she could to his virile, living energy. When he kissed her like this she couldn’t think of anything else. She didn’t want to think of anything else. When he kissed her, all her problems vanished into oblivion. Her hands pressed against his naked back, feeling the flex of his taut muscles. Her heart thudded in her ears. Jack filled her senses and her mind until there was only room for the compelling needs he aroused in her.

      He kissed her cheek, then bent his head to caress her neck with his lips. She stared up at the ceiling, but she didn’t see the flickering shadow patterns of the fire. All her attention was focussed on Jack. His breathing was as fast and ragged as her own. She could feel the hot urgency pulsing through his body.

      He pulled up her skirts with an uncharacteristically clumsy gesture and then she felt his hand on her bare thigh. She gasped as almost unbearable tension filled her. He stroked the outer side of her leg, touching her more intimately than she’d ever been touched before.

      She held her breath, her grip on his back tightening until her nails pressed into his muscles.

      His fingers brushed along her legs as he found his way by touch alone. She moved restlessly beneath him, her breath emerging in quick, almost whimpering gasps.

      His hand came briefly to rest on her inner thigh—then stroked boldly upwards. Potent sensation flooded her body. She trembled with an unfamiliar mixture of excitement and almost painfully urgent anticipation. She was swollen and aching, and when he touched her intimately air exploded from her lungs in a wordless gasp of pleasure.

      Her legs fell bonelessly apart as he continued to stroke her hot, moist flesh. His own breathing was harsh with excitement. Her body responded to his teasing, tormenting fingers with small spasms of pleasure and intensifying need. When he took his hand away she gave a whimper of protest, but a few seconds later he lifted himself over her.

      Her breath caught in her throat. The unfamiliar sensation of his erection pressing against her provoked a brief moment of clarity. She’d never thought this would happen to her. She was too tall, her personality too forthright. Men had looked with covetous eyes at her shop, but not at her. Now Jack was poised above her, his lean, muscular body taut with unfulfilled passion.

      She closed her eyes and gave herself up to the intensity of the moment. It was so strange to feel Jack inside her, stretching her. She held tight to him, her anchor in the storm of new sensations.

      He paused. She could feel the straining of his muscles as he held still. The expansion and contraction of his ribs as he braced himself over and in her.

      ‘Tempest?’ His voice emerged as a ragged moan.

      She was so overwhelmed by the physical and emotional strangeness of what was happening she didn’t speak. Her fingers dug convulsively into his back. Pure instinct prompted her to raise her knees and he sank a little deeper inside her.

      His shuddering groan reverberated through her. He began to move, his strokes steady and careful. At first it wasn’t quite comfortable, but gradually the discomfort was transformed into deliciously escalating tension. She arched her back, lifting her hips towards him. She was on the verge of something—

      Jack’s thrusts became faster and less controlled. Suddenly he groaned and shuddered in her arms. She felt his hot release deep within her. His movements slowed until he was still except for his quickened breathing.

      Temperance lay beneath him, her body tingling and somehow unsatisfied. She opened her eyes. She couldn’t see Jack’s expression. His head was a dark shadow between her and the lurid ceiling. She was breathing heavily. So was he. He was still inside her, yet she felt strangely disconnected from what had just happened. She’d dreamed of Jack the first night she’d met him. Now she was half-convinced she was still dreaming. Nothing that had happened in the past twenty-four hours had any place in her everyday life.

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