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

When he took Kate and made her his, he wanted it to be utterly perfect. But for now he would take what he could. And what he had was the most exquisite torture he had ever experienced.

He had come awake almost instantly, as soon as he had felt her stir, but had not moved, allowing her to escape from their embarrassingly intimate position if she wished to. He had waited for her to move away from him, feeling the cold rush of air as she lifted her body away from his, feigning sleep to make it easier for her to leave him.

He’d been unprepared for the shock of the first feathery caress on his skin. So light, he had almost not believed it was happening, but it had been followed by another and then another, and it had taken all his will-power just to lie there instead of gathering her hard against him in a passionate embrace. Such a thing had never happened to Jack Carstairs before. To lie still, and to all intents placid and unaware, while the little creature that had wound herself around his heart planted the tiniest, most delicately moist kisses all over him.

His pulse pounded with the effort of remaining relaxed under her innocently questing sensual onslaught. He had no choice. He had to lie here in tormented bliss, treasuring each tentative, seductive caress, as if he had no more feeling than a block of wood. It was that or lose the precious moment to sordid reality. No choice at all.

God, but she was sweet. Oh, Lord, she was kissing him on the mouth again. He braced himself for the ravaging temptation as her small pink tongue reached in and delicately touched his. The jolt of sensation swamped him, and with silent anguish he felt his tongue responding, curling around hers. He felt her alarmed withdrawal but he could not help himself and his tongue followed hers. She jerked away in panic. Gently but firmly his hand cupped the back of her head and, blue eyes blazing into hers, he pulled her mouth back to his.

The kiss was long, sweet and intensely passionate.

Outside the cottage, Jack could hear Francis getting the horses ready. He released Kate and after a moment she drew back, a dazed, bemused expression on her face. Jack yearned to pull her back into his arms and kiss her arousal into passion. Instead he smiled, an odd, twisted, tender smile.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he whispered. “That’s the nicest awakening I think I’ve ever had.”

Kate blinked, then blushed rosily. Good God, she was lying full length on top of Jack Carstairs in the most immodest position, legs entwined, her breasts resting on his naked chest and his…his manhood pressing into her. And he was awake!

Hurriedly she scrambled off Jack and stood, tugging frantically at her clothes, desperately attempting to achieve some semblance of decency and composure. Heavens! How long had Jack been awake? Had he known all that she had done?

Deeply embarrassed, she busied herself with tidying her clothes and her hair, unable even to look in his direction, let alone meet his gaze. She wanted to break the fraught silence with words, but could think of nothing to say. Behind her she could hear Jack moving; presumably he was closing his shirt, buttoning his waistcoat, shrugging himself back into the coat she had found herself wrapped in…

“Morning, all. Sleep well?” Francis entered the cottage with a stamping of boots. “Brrr, it’s cold out there. I think we should try to get moving as soon as possible. Kate, how are you, m’dear?”

Kate murmured something unintelligible and slipped outside the cottage, her face flaming. Francis here as well? Who else knew of her shame? Bad enough that she had allowed herself to be kidnapped by her cousin, but to have two witnesses to it—and then to have behaved in that manner with Jack! What must he think of her, to have touched him that way…with Francis somewhere about too? It was all too mortifying.

She went in search of water in which to wash. She could find no well, nor any pump or stream. The night had been a bitter one and the small pond beside the cottage was frozen over. Kate tried to smash through the ice with a rock, but it would not break. She rubbed some icicles over her skin until they melted and dried her tingling face on her petticoat. She tore a ribbon of lace off her petticoat and tied her hair back as neatly as she could. Then she returned to the cottage, shivering in the morning chill.

By the time she returned, both Francis and Jack looked presentable, if not their usual immaculate selves. She avoided Jack’s eyes and knew her face was flaming, but hoped it would be put down, by Francis at least, to the nip of the frigid air outside.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” she said brightly, smiling impartially at a space somewhere between the two of them. “Anything to eat? I’m utterly ravenous.”

Francis chuckled. “The lady is hungry, old man. We can’t have that. Shall we adjourn to the nearest hostelry and obtain some breakfast? I fancy there is an inn in the next village which can accommodate our needs tolerably well.”

“Oh, yes, let’s,” said Kate immediately, beaming at him. She still could not look at Jack.

“In that case, ma’am, I shall fetch your carriage at once!” said Francis, bowing like a flunkey. Kate giggled as he left the cottage, bowing repeatedly like a Cit facing royalty.

She turned to find Jack leaning against the wall, glowering at her. “Must you flirt with him so early in the morning?”

Kate flushed and looked away. She felt his gaze scorching her.

“I wasn’t flirting.” Her heart plummeted. Jack grunted disbelievingly.

Kate turned her back on him and walked to the open door and looked out. There was nothing she could do. He would think whatever he wished to. She could not change his