Gallant Waif by Anne Gracie (the alpha prince and his bride full story free .txt) 📗

solicitously over Kate, his arms lifting her off the dirty pallet until she lay cradled against his chest.

“Are you all right, sweetheart?” A gentle hand smoothed back her tangled curls with infinite tenderness.

“Oh, Jack, I feel so strange,” she murmured, trying to sit up.

“No, no, don’t try to move, sweetheart. It’s all right. You’re safe now.” He pulled her more closely against him. His arms were hard around her, holding her protectively, whilst he crooned soothing nonsense in her ear, interposing it with small kisses on her hair, her ears, whatever he could reach.

Kate, bewildered, ill and dizzy from the effects of the drug, burrowed into his chest and lay there, clutching him, understanding nothing except that Jack was there, holding her, and that everything was therefore perfect.

Francis watched them, a soft look in his eyes, then a movement to his left caught his attention, and his gaze hardened as he took in the sorry sight of Cousin Jeremiah. Blood was oozing from cuts over his eye, and gushing from his nose and lips. His jaw was beginning to swell and both eyes were puffing up.

Francis’s lip curled contemptuously as he took in the snuffling, sobbing creature. Silently he opened the door, and curtly jerked his head. Casting fearful glances towards Jack, who was still wholly absorbed with Kate, Cole lurched to his feet and tottered out. Francis followed.

“Not the carriage, I think,” he said softly as Cole headed towards it. “We will need that to convey Miss Farleigh home.”

“But how will I get home myself?” Cole whimpered. It was a freezing night.

“I have not the least notion,” said Francis coldly, “but once my friend realises you are out here I have no doubt that you will return home snug and cosy enough—in a coffin.”

Cole gasped in terror and set off down the rough track towards the main road, stumbling and crashing, casting frequent fearful glances behind him. Francis watched until he was out of sight, and out of earshot, then quietly re-entered the ruined house.

Kate was curled up almost in a ball, cradled in Jack’s lap, nestled against his chest like a child. She seemed to be asleep. The eyes of the two men met. Francis’s eyebrow rose in a silent question and Jack nodded imperceptibly. Francis heaved a sigh of relief. She was all right, then. Cole had drugged her, but no violence had been done.

He glanced at the pair on the pallet and sighed. Neither of them were in any condition to move tonight. Kate was exhausted by her ordeal and still partly drugged; as for Jack, he might have had enough strength to give Cole a thrashing while his body had been functioning on rage, but now that his anger had died away Francis would hazard a guess that Jack would barely be able to walk.

“I’ll see to the horses,” he said quietly, and left the room. Jack did not appear to hear him. All his attention was on Kate. She murmured something in her sleep and his hold on her tightened.

Over her head Jack stared blankly at the wall. What a fool he’d been. He’d thought he could give her up, convinced himself that she would be better off without him, that the best thing he could do for her was to send her to his grandmother…

He didn’t want to send her anywhere. He wanted to hold her like this for the rest of his life. He shifted slightly and winced as his bad leg reminded him of his uncomfortable position. Well, not exactly like this. Not on a grubby pallet on a hard cold floor in a squalid little tumbledown cottage.

Kate shifted and wheeled against him, and despite his discomfort he felt his body respond to her. No, he didn’t want to hold her like this for the rest of his life. Hold her, yes. In his bed. Caressing her and loving her and introducing her to the delights of passion. Oh, yes, she had passion in her, his little Kate. He felt his body tighten just thinking about it as it had so many times recently. Too many times. He had barely been able to control himself. The slightest look or movement of hers had been enough to force him to battle with his body’s response.

She shivered and moved against him again. Damn his stupidity, she was cold, he realised. Blasted fool that he was, thinking of himself when all the time the girl was cold. It was his body warmth she wanted, not his body. Selfish, bloody, stupid, insensitive fool! Gently, trying not to disturb her, Jack shrugged himself out of his greatcoat and wrapped it snugly around her.

“Mmm, nice,” she muttered, and he grinned wryly, realising that she had indeed been cold. Carefully he moved, gritting his teeth at the jarring pain, tenderly manipulating her until he was lying half on his side, half on his back, with her small body tucked into the warm curve of his. He opened his jacket and shirt to pull them more closely around her and give her more of his body warmth. Instantly she snuggled her arms around his bare torso and moved closer on top of him, nuzzling her mouth against his throat.

Steadfastly ignoring his body’s tumultuous response, he closed his shirt and jacket over her and tucked the greatcoat carefully around her. She would be warmer now, with his body and his coat sheltering her from all possible draughts. He could feel his pulse thundering. His body throbbed for release. He was torn between savouring her closeness, the feel and scent and touch of her, and battling the demands of his body to further that closeness. An electric jolt passed through him as she wriggled again. He swore silently and gritted his teeth, willing his body into obedience.

Damn it all! He was little better than Cole, he thought. She was drugged. She didn’t know what she was doing. He should be protecting her, not lusting after her like a mindless beast! She