Claiming His Ward: Sweet & Sexy Page 6

  “The window, Margie. I’m. I’m.” Her modesty returned. “I’m not dressed.”

  Margie stopped in the doorway and turned full round. She considered Elsie with an undecipherable smirk. “I see that. Something you’ll have to get used to. Up, now. I’ll be back to help you dress.”

  Margie’s shoes clambered down the hall. Elsie flopped down to her pillows. Help her dress? That meant a corset. Oh, bother. Let it be. For now, she was alone in her bed. She knew it had not been a dream. The covers where he had slept were tossed back, and the pillow was creased. His manly scent lingered. Her scent lingered. Her world passed into the surreal. Her body felt no different, but everything inside of her did. Besides the tousled sheets he had left behind, not a thing in her chambers was out of place. Nothing had changed. The same oil lamp which had lit her way last night stood on her night stand. The same petticoat she had removed lay over her desk chair. But no, something had changed. The chasm that had opened between she and Jack had slammed shut forever. He wanted her. He desired her, and last night he took her. She gave herself freely, and he took her to a place of ecstasy she could not have imagined. As she had grown into a woman she had, in the darkness of her room, explored her own body and found the pleasure between her legs. What Jack had done to her last night — it was a euphoria that passed beyond reality.

  She ran a longing hand over the space Jack had vacated, smoothing the wrinkled sheets he had left behind. He had been there – right there. After they made love, he had held her in his arms, their sweat slicked bodies pressed against one another. She had buried her cheek into his chest and breathed him in. She had tickled his sides, and he had squirmed and sniggered like a boy. His hands had explored every inch of her skin and lulled her into a deep sleep. Her stomach fluttered at the memory of his lips on hers — of her legs wrapped around his waist. It did not have to be a memory. It was something that was now hers to have. Hers to enjoy the rest of her life. He loved her.

  A slight unease ebbed at the borders of her contentment. Had he left her to make his way to the office, or because he was ashamed of what he had done? He had tried to restrain himself, but she had tempted him. She knew she had tempted him. She had meant to. Had she misjudged? The novels, the old widows, they warned a woman of a man’s baser nature. He would not be the first to regret his commitment to a woman, or the first to take his pleasure and leave.

  “Opening your eyes doesn’t get you out of bed, Miss.” Margie tugged at the covers, more insistent than usual on rousing Elsie for the day. “We need to get you up and dressed. Have to have you looking pretty today.”

  Margie tossed yesterday’s knickers onto the mattress. The affair of a formal dressing had always been an unwanted burden on Elsie’s mornings. And this morning in particular, Margie had picked the finest dress from Elsie’s wardrobe and was taking special care with every bow and tie. Petticoat, corset, and dress layered one on top of the other. Margie, herself, appeared to be wearing her finest. Elsie sat at her writing desk and let her thoughts roam back to the night before as Margie combed and curled her hair into majestic sweeps and loops.

  “A little lost in our thoughts this morning, aren’t we, Miss?” Margie had a smug contentment about her this morning.

  Elsie knew how to spar with her. “Making quite a fuss of things this morning, aren’t we, Margie? Are we having company I’ve forgotten. The crown prince, perhaps?”

  Margie eyed her suspiciously from the reflection in the looking glass. She shook her head, and that smirk reappeared. “You’ll have plenty of time to thank me later, Miss.”

  Down in the parlor, Margie brought in a tray of tea, and Elsie settled herself in the window seat for a morning of sewing. She and Lauren had sewed together frequently in the weeks leading up to her sister’s wedding. Elsie had compiled a small chest of sheets and garments to bring into her eventual matrimonial home. She considered beginning needlework on the initials EN. Not yet. Instead, she selected a pair of Jack’s trousers he had accidentally torn the hem out of. She ran the fabric through her fingers. This could be her matrimonial home. Jack had taken her as his own. Surely, she would be his wife.

  Elsie’s gaze was attracted to a darting figure outside her window. Her heart sank. Panic entered the deepest recesses of her soul. A gayly appareled Henry Doleman, top hatted and kid gloved practically skipped across the street. For the first time in her life, Elsie’s stomach turned at the sight of him. She sank low on the window seat, praying to the Lord that he hadn’t seen her as he crossed. She hid behind the curtains, opening a slit for the smallest of glimpses. Young Henry was beaming. He was dressed as smartly as the day before. Oh well for visiting on less formal occasions. A loud rapping sounded on the front door. Elsie’s heart stuttered. The day before. Her best dress. Her hair up in curls. The croissants. Margie wasn’t expecting the crown prince. She was expecting Henry Doleman. She was expecting a proposal.

  Margie's hurried steps clipped down the hall. Elsie slid off the window seat and crawled across the floor. “Margie,” she hissed. “Margie.”

  The hustling woman halted in mid-stride. Her eyes popped open and her brow creased. “Are you alright, Miss?”

  “I’m not home.”

  “What on earth…?”

  “I’m not home.” She made a desperate attempt to wink. Still a failure.

  The rapping sounded again, more solid this time. Margie’s head swiveled from the door to Elsie. The door to Elsie. She put on her professional face, straightened her back, squared her shoulders, and proceeded down the hall. On hands and knees, Elsie crept back to the window seat. She shielded herself with the curtains and careened her neck to see the front door. She could see only Master Doleman but hear only Margie.

  “I’m sorry, Master Doleman. Miss Elsie has a terrible headache. She is confined to her chambers. Must have been yesterday’s excitement. You know young ladies. Such fragile constitutions.”

  Henry’s countenance fell for a moment, but he recovered—gallant as always. He spun his top hat in his gloved hands. His head tilted to the side, and he made an inquiry.

  “Apologies, Master Doleman. He’s out on important business at the moment. Perhaps you can try again tomorrow?”

  Master Doleman continued to press his suit, but Elsie's attention was drawn to a hansom pulling up at the curb. Her eyes widened in terrified excitement as a large man stepped from the carriage. A man whose body she now knew intimately. The broad sweep of his shoulders, his powerful legs, his tender hands. Jack fixed his sight on young Henry, and his bright countenance darkened. He swooped down from the carriage and took powerful strides toward his home. Made aware of his presence, Henry alighted the steps. Also, used to a dark greeting, the younger man was unperturbed by Jack’s foreboding demeanor. He descended the front steps and held a gloved hand out to Jack.

  Elsie stooped low onto the window seat and pulled the curtain over her face. Jack rounded to place himself in front of the front stoop and stood firmly in the way of Master Doleman’s entrance. Her lover stood tall. He spoke a few words, silent from where she observed. Master Doleman’s cheerfully expectant features dropped, and a confused consternation overtook him.

  The younger man replied, questioning, bewildered. Elsie could read the single word he spoke. Why? Jack's shoulders were powerfully squared, his chin held high. He spoke only a few words, but those words turned Master Doleman’s face a bright red. The young man’s confusion was dispelled and replaced by anger. His upper lip curled. He stepped back, sending a sour appraisal down the length of the older man's body. His sneer deepened. Henry spat a quick succession of sentences. Jack's countenance lost its composure. His mouth twisted into a snarl.

  Jack barked back words—audible even from Elsie's sheltered position. "She can be happy with me. She will."

  Pedestrians turned to catch the commotion while others lowered their eyes and sped in the opposite direction. Elsie couldn't take it any longer. Trembling fingers flew to the window latch, and she cracked open the
pane as Doleman spat back. "She's your ward." A nasty sneer spread over his face. "How long have you been stringing us along, eh? How long have you been—"

  Jack took one quick, powerful step, closing the space Henry had created, fury in his eye. Lightning quick, his shoulder cocked back; his torso twisted. His shoulder rounded and he snapped forward. In a split second, his fist smashed into the bridge of Doleman’s nose. Margie shrieked from the doorway. Feminine gasps and male murmurings overtook the street. The young man's head jerked back. His hands flew to his face. His top hat tumbled from its perch. Henry stumbled drunkenly on his heels and then toppled onto the bricks. He fell with a crash.

  Jack towered over top of him, his fist clenched. "I hear her name on your lips once more, and I will have your head on a pike in Central Park. Do you understand me, boy?"

  Blood flowed in a rivulet down Henry's lips and off his chin. His bright, yellow waistcoat dyed crimson. Fear infused young man’s features. His eyes went wide. The spectators gave the two a wide bearing. Henry’s shoulders rose up around his ears in a hunch. He clambered to his feet. He bent at the waist, letting drops of blood fall to the bricks.

  Jack leaned closer, menace in his voice. “Please. Say her name. Give me a reason to lay you back on the pavers.”

  Henry removed his hands from his face. His voice was thick. “You led me to believe she was available. I was coming to ask her hand.”

  A crooked grin spread over Jacks face. “Well, my boy, as you so eagerly pointed out – I am an old man. And if it one thing old men do not have the luxury of – it is time. Seize the day, Henry. Yesterday was your day. It’s gone. I have asked you to leave. Now go before I am motivated to retrieve my riding crop.”

  Women’s mouths gaped open with raptured disgust and their husbands hid delighted guffaws behind hands. Henry cast a feral appraisal of the crowd. A young man denied access to the company of a young lady was not a point he would win. He turned his back on Jack and hurriedly stumbled down the walk, leaving his top hat behind and splitting a crowd of astonished spectators.

  Jack turned his back on the enthralled spectators and made his way to the front door. Margie gave way before him, and his heavy boots sounded down the hall. He thundered past the parlor door, shaking his bloodied knuckles, the vision of a man on a mission. His footfalls came to a sudden halt a few yards down the corridor. A slow toe to heel click brought him back. Jack careened his head around the door frame. The scarlet flush of anger from his confrontation with Henry faded from his face. The furious red gave way to his natural complexion. His dark, hard eyes softened as he set his gaze on Elsie. The tension left his shoulders. His tenderness returned. He was a new man to her. Her godfather, her guardian — yes. And now, also her beloved. He was no longer the conscientious man who avoided her suitors. He was now the jealous lover who drove them away.

  Jack swallowed hard as he stood in the doorway. Elsie’s heart and stomach fluttered. She resisted the girlish urge to run to him and fling herself into his arms. He pulled a kerchief from his pocket and busied his hands with removing the stain from his knuckles. Jack set his jaw, and resolution flooded over his features. He dropped the slip of fabric and strode confidently into the room. He removed a small parcel from his waistcoat pocket. He unfastened the twill binding and unwrapped a black, velvet box. The fluttering taking place on her insides turned into a tremor. Excitement shot up her spine. Her breath hitched in her lungs, and she struggled to take in air.

  He stepped close — close enough for her to reach out and lay her lips on his — close enough for her to feel the heat of his breath. Jack lifted the little box to his chest and opened it before her. The afternoon sun caught the twinkle of a brilliant, ruby ring. Elsie laid her hand over her breast; her erratic heartbeat underneath beat a broken staccato.

  “Elsie, my love, I don’t desire this life without you. Please, tell me you will never leave. Tell me you will be mine.” Jack lowered himself to one knee. He looked up at her, his desire burning hot. “I am not a young man. I cannot offer you riches. But I can offer you a simple home, a good life, and the true love of a man who adores you. Will you be my wife?”

  Elsie’s eyes flooded with tears. Her throat constricted, and her words scratched to get out. She was overcome. She couldn’t speak. She looked down on her love, and he gazed back at her with hopeful expectation. She needed to meet him there, where he was, to be close to him once again. Elsie sank to her knees. Her lips worked, but nothing came out. The air was trapped in her lungs. She brushed her teeth over her dry lips.

  Finally, a smile broke over her, and the words came. “Yes. Of course I’ll have you. This home and the life you’ve given me—it’s all I’ve ever wanted. I’ve only ever wanted you. I will be happy with you.”

  His stern expression of anticipation gave way, and was replaced by a calm bliss. Jack reached out for her. He placed a tender kiss on her lips, and his intimate touch rekindled her fire from the night before. The girlish desire of a moment before returned, and this time she gave in. She shoved off her heels and leapt into his arms. She tumbled backwards with him as he hit the floor. His manly laugh and her delighted giggle mingled together. He lay on his back on the hardwood floor, smiling up at her. Elsie laid over him, a bundle of joy and unbridled nerves. Jack touched her cheek and guided her lips to his. His kiss was tender and loving.

  Youthfulness spread over his features. He flashed an infuriatingly suave wink. A challenge. Elsie squinted. The right side of her mouth turned up. Her eyebrows twitched in quick succession. She blinked, closed both eyes, and popped her left eye open.

  “You look like a pirate.”

  Elsie pouted and swatted his chest. “Not very gallant, Mister Nelson.”

  “Mister? Come. We have an appointment with the parson. Let’s not keep him waiting, Missus.”

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  A sad beginning brought them together.

  Elsie entered Jack’s household as a bereaved goddaughter many years ago, but she has blossomed into a beautiful woman. Jack has hidden his growing desire for his ward, fearing the consequences of a betrayed trust. For years, she has been his to nurture and protect, but now a new set of desires are seizing him.

  Jack has always provided for her. But, of late, their tender friendship fractured. As it should. She must leave her guardian – as all young ladies must. She harbors no desire to go. How to tell the man who has given her everything that she yearns for even more?

  They had always had a reason to restrain themselves, but after Jack’s daughter’s wedding day, he and Elsie are left alone once and for all. His vow of guardianship threatens to be overtaken by his passion. Her untouched beauty. Her pure trust in him. They draw him to the woman he has sworn to protect and shelter. Her innocence balances on the brink of desire. His unwavering strength. His never-ending kindness. They draw her to the man who guided her and possessed her.

  Eve was a handful.

  She had a temper that could spook a cavalry horse, and she had never been tamed.

  Until her father's marriage brought a new stepmother and her son into the house. Theo wouldn’t be around for long. Officers in Her Majesties Navy rarely were. They came and went with the trade winds. One month. That’s all they have.

  A man of discipline and order, Theo knows how to battle insubordination on board a sailing vessel. But Eve? Her defiance brings her to the brink of mutiny, and he finds himself on the ledge between brute and gentleman. Her ferocity calls to inner b
east, but to hell with her unholy fits.

  Eve also balance on a ledge – somewhere between childhood tantrums and womanhood. A father who treats her like a sheltered child, and a new man in her life who pushes her to be a special brand of lady. The kid gloves and sewing clubs of genteel society have never appealed to her rebellious streak, but what Theo desires in a lady? That she is irresistibly drawn to.

  Is it the heavy hand or the gentle touch which draws in An Officer’s Lady?

  Who will tame whom in this Victorian Era battle of the wills?

  July, 1861 is dawning, and America tears its loyalties.

  She didn’t belong.

  War wages within Mae Harper as well. Which duty to obey? Follow her unruly spirit, or remain home in petticoat and parlor? Both Mae’s brothers enlist in the Union army, but she burns to do more than sit and sew. With one rash decision, her brother’s breeches, and her long locks shorn, an impetuous girl makes a perilous journey south. She doesn’t belong, but she conceals her identity and fights to prove her worth.

  He became a man in the wilds of the West.

  His country calls on him now, and Sergeant Wesley Metzger marches East once again. His old regiment disbanded, the veteran soldier is put in command of training inexperienced city boys. So many are ill-prepared, but Wesley vows to protect his men and the country they serve. He studies the men entrusted to him to discover weaknesses which will betray them in battle.

  Her secret will ruin her. His desire will overwhelm him.

  Mae can deceive many, but not the man who has become her protector. He looks at her too keenly, and her body’s response to his nearness threatens to betray her. She strives to confirm herself in a world of men, and yet Sergeant Metzger arouses every feminine desire within her. Can she trust him with her secret?