The Truth by Jane Lark ~ a free book exclusive to my blog ~ part thirty-nine

The Truth

© Jane Lark Publishing rights belong to Jane Lark,

this should not be recreated in any form without prior consent from Jane Lark

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12,13,14,15,16,17,18 ,19,20,21,22,23,24,25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35,36, 37, 38

Emerald

Emerald laughed as the rainstorm carried on its way leaving her behind, dripping wet. The water fell from the brim of Mr Pritchard’s tricorn hat as it dripped from Emerald’s soggy bonnet. She tried to undo the ribbons to take her bonnet off but the dampness had firmed the bow into a knot.

“Miss Martin.” She turned to discover that Richard had come up on to the deck and was standing behind her. He held up a blanket. Emerald caught Rita’s gaze across his shoulder as she was climbing up the steps to the poop-deck. Richard must have sent Rita into their cabin to fetch something to cover Emerald with. She wanted to reject the offer, she did not mind being wet, and yet Richard moved with a determination that implied he was adamant she take it.

She moved so that he could lay the blanket across her shoulders. As he did so he leaned a little closer. “Hold it across your bosom.” The words were a quiet but sharp order.

When she fulfilled his request she could see why he had said it: her damp clothing clung tightly against her skin.

His fingers were then at the stubborn bow beneath her chin, attempting to free her from her soggy bonnet. “You should have gone inside when I proposed it.” Those words were said in angry condemnation, but at least he did not say them loudly.

Emerald glanced over his shoulder again and saw Mr Pritchard staring at them with an odd expression as Richard held the ruined bonnet out for Rita to take.

“There. Now you must go back to your cabin and change,” he ordered quietly.

She obeyed only because she would have done so anyway. But she did not speak as she walked past him and then carefully descended the awkward, steep stairs back to the quarter deck, one hand holding the blanket and her shawl in place as the other gripped the rail in case she slipped. Rita followed her down and once in their cabin helped Emerald remove her soaked dress and undergarments. She said nothing as Emerald spoke of how exhilarating it had been to watch and feel the rain.

***

Later, after she had eaten her dinner with the men, Emerald returned to her cabin and lay in her bunk listening for Rita to fall asleep and for the men in the room next door to retire. It seemed to take a long time for them to finally wish each other goodnight. She waited for a little longer, in case any of them returned. Then she quietly pushed back the sheets then slid her legs out from under the covers and got up to go through the adjoining door. Richard was there, waiting. He had removed his evening coat, waistcoat and neckcloth and was leaning on the table, his head hanging forward while his hands gripped its rim. She could see all the perfect outlines of his body when he was in his trousers and his shirt was tucked in at the waist but loose at the neck.

As she walked farther into the room he stood upright and turned towards her.

His eyes looked at her with an expression that seemed hard and shallow, just as he had always looked at her in Calcutta.

“Why did you not obey me this afternoon? I asked you to go inside to avoid the rain?”

Her forehead pulled out of shape into a frown. The tone and the sentiment of his words injured her. She had never liked his orders. “Because you did not ask. You cannot command me. I am not one of your crew.”

His eyebrows lifted in a warning. She had displeased him and his look said he did not want to be displeased again. She could picture him casting that look at his agents spread all over the world if they had done something he did not like.

She walked closer, her bare feet making the boards creak a little as she walked more heavily rather than running lightly through the room as she usually did. “Richard,” her voice placated but she did no intend to concede. “You cannot bully me. I was enjoying watching the rain. Had you not told me to go below I probably would have done so. I have my own mind. I can make my own decisions.”

His eyebrows descended as his glare intensified. It was the condemning expression she had known when she had boarded his ship. She gripped his shirt at either side of his waist and tried to shake him a little. “I will not jump to your orders and you cannot mould me with your will. Even when I will be your wife I will not become your servant. You said you loved me.” It was a battle for ground she had to claim. He may own land all over the world but when they married she would not let him think that he owned her. “What did it matter if I stood in the rain?”

His arms hung at his sides and his jaw was tense. “You refused me in front of the crew. If a woman disobeys me, and one who is barely out of the school room, what message do you think it sends them?”

She let go of his shirt. “A woman who is barely out of the school room… Is that how you see me?”

“Emerald.” His voice flooded with frustration. “I see you as you. But you have to understand how they see you – and me. I am the owner of this ship. Their employer. They expect me to be obeyed. When I am not obeyed it puts that option into their minds. Do you wish to begin a mutiny?”

A sharp, loud, note of amusement escaped her throat.

He glanced upward, showing that he was thinking of whoever was at the wheel above them and the possibility that the sound had been too loud.

“No one shall attempt mutiny just because I chose to stay outside in the rain,” she soothed, her hand touching his arm.

He moved his arm away, his eyes challenging her dismissive response and shook his head. “Would they not? Have you ever endured a pirate raid?”

She shook her head, uncertain now.

“No, of course you have not. Well when it happens the men need to be more afraid of me than pirates or they will hand over my bloody ship. This is not a game, Emerald. My men need to fear and respect me. They will do neither if they see a woman defy me.”

She was not bending. She glared back at him. If he wished this to be an argument then it would be so. “Then do not order me about like I am one of them and I shall not defy you.” Her fingers curled into fists. She loved the man who cared for her, the man hidden beneath this arrogant, bristling, business like skin – and yet when he was like this she still did not like him. She would have turned away, but he gripped her arm and stopped her turning.

There were no more words. His mouth covered hers and he kissed her deeply, his tongue thrusting into her mouth as one of his hands pressed against the back of her head holding her to him while the other slipped to hold her at the arch of her back.

The longing her body had learnt for his swept through her, soaking her just as the rain had done. She could not be angry with this Richard. She could not deny this man. Her hand lifted to his hair, as his fingers began working up her nightgown.

To be continued…

The Marlow Intrigues: Perfect for lovers of period drama, like Victoria and Poldark.

The Lost Love of Soldier ~ The Prequel #1 ~ A Christmas Elopement began it all

The Illicit Love of a Courtesan #2

Capturing The Love of an Earl ~ A Free Novella #2.5

The Passionate Love of a Rake #3

The Desperate Love of a Lord ~ A second Free Novella #3.5

The Scandalous Love of a Duke #4

The Dangerous Love of a Rogue #5

The Jealous Love of a Scoundrel #5.5

The Persuasive Love of a Libertine #5.75 now included in Jealous Love, (or free if you can persuade Amazon to price match with Kobo ebooks) 😉

The Secret Love of a Gentleman #6

The Reckless Love of an Heir #7

Jane’s books can be ordered from most booksellers in paperback and, yes, there are more to come

Go to the index

For

the story of the real courtesan who inspired The Illicit Love of a Courtesan,
another free short story, about characters from book #2, A Lord’s Scandalous Love,
the prequel excerpts for book #3 The Scandalous Love of a Duke

Jane Lark is a writer of authentic, passionate and emotional Historical and New Adult Romance stories, and the author of a No.1 bestselling Historical Romance novel in America, ‘The Illicit Love of a Courtesan’.Click here to find out more about Jane’s books, and see Jane’s website www.janelark.co.uk to learn more about Jane. Or click ‘like’ on Jane’s Facebook page to see photo’s and learn historical facts from the Georgian, Regency and Victorian eras, which Jane publishes there. You can also follow Jane on twitter at @janelark

The Truth by Jane Lark ~ a free book exclusive to my blog ~ part thirty-seven

The Truth

© Jane Lark Publishing rights belong to Jane Lark,

this should not be recreated in any form without prior consent from Jane Lark

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14,15,16,17,18 ,19,20,21,22,23,24,25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36

*** Before you begin reading this week’s episode here is a warning***

If you read my books you will know that they are very passionate in places, sometimes early on in a story and sometimes later, depending on the nature of the characters, and in this story we have reached that stage so if you dislike an open bedroom door then from this point forward I’d suggest you only read the posts without a warning

Emerald

She could not imagine herself doing this with any other man, she could picture none of the young men she had spoken to at home being capable of creating the fire that was melting her on the inside – and the room was crowded with Richard’s particular aura of power and command. She may have been wary of him before this voyage but now she was in awe of him, like everyone else.

His mouth covered hers, taking control of the kiss she’d begun and stealing her breath from her mouth. Her fingers ran over his velvety skin feeling the lines of muscle and sinew beneath and the coarse hair on his chest brushed against one of her breasts. Her skin tingled as his thigh pressed between hers.

The little death. When he’d done that to her, it had begun as a delirious pain then a wild fire had caught her alight. It had skimmed across her skin and raced through her nerves, in a miraculous phenomenon. He broke the kiss, pulling away by inches, leaning up on one elbow. His face was in shadow as his breath brushed over cheek. “Emma, you are sure?” The pressure of his thigh and his knee seemed to push for her legs to be parted wider. She wanted the part them. Her whole body ached for him to be in a position between her legs with an instinctive desire she could not have dreamed of.

“Yes. I am sure.” she was – she was sure. “Please.” Her body arched against his thigh.

A long breathy sound came from his mouth as he moved over her, while she opened her legs as wide as she could to make space for him there.

His dark eyes glittered as they caught a touch of moonlight while he positioned himself. She could feel the first touch of his body against her, between her legs. It was a soft touch. “Emma, I love you,” There was a husky lilt of emotion in his voice. Then he thrust into her – piercing her, lancing into her with a sharp hard pain. It ripped her, tearing through her. She cried out, unable to hold it back as she clasped his arms, her fingernails digging into his skin. Then she bit her lip hard and shut her eyes fighting against the pain. It hurt. She felt stretched and torn.

He lowered his body to cover hers, though some of his weight was on his hands, and his nose brushed her cheek, stroking, then he kissed her cheek before whispering, “I will make this right, Emma, I swear it to you. When we reach England I will make you my wife. I would do so on the ship, but I wish to save your reputation, we cannot give your family a fait accompli, you are not of age, it should look right. I will seek permission and marry you properly in England. But for now, Emma…” He kissed her cheek again then lifted up a little. She opened her eyes “Emma Martin, I give you my life, I pledge it to you. We are married in my eyes from today. I love you.”

Oh God, she loved him too. Richard Farrow was hers! He had pledged himself to her! The man that every one of her friends in Calcutta had wanted and she had never liked. Her heart skipped and danced. He was inside her now, bedding her as a husband would a wife.

She reached up and brushed his hair off his brow. “My name is Emerald.”

“What?” His eyes looked his confusion.

“My name is Emerald. Emma is an abbreviation my mother and father have always used, but my name is Emerald.” She couldn’t say why it was important to her that he knew but it was. If he was committing himself to her she wanted him to know who she really was. Her parents had named her as a jewel of India. They’d thought her precious and they’d been so in love with each other and the country they’d made their home, full of exotic colours and spices and people, they had given her an exotic name, but they had always kept that side of them private. She’d only ever been Emma before anyone else. She wanted to be Emerald to Mark.

“Emerald Martin,” he whispered down at her in a solemn husky tone. “I promise to love you forever, to cherish and keep you. I give you my life no matter what fate may throw at us.”

“Richard Farrow,” she whispered back. Richard Farrow! She was swept away and the waves and stunned by this, it was so hard to think it was real. “I will love you forever. I shall be your wife and I give you my life, and my body and myself.”

“I love you,” he said again as he began to withdraw from her slowly and carefully. Her fingers held on to his arms, as he lifted his weight from her and she fought the new surge of pain. He slid out to his very tip.

She gritted her teeth, preparing for his next invasion. It came swiftly, mercilessly, as he thrust inward. “Hold on,” he whispered, “relax and the pain will ease.”

She tried to relax, slackening the muscle in her thighs as he withdrew again, with agonising slowness. Then he thrust in. The air left her lungs on a whoosh of breath and he was withdrawing again before she knew it. She clung on to his arms, with her eyes shit, and her teeth pressing into her lower lip as he plunged in once more. “Ahh.” She could not help it the cry escaped as the sensation became both pain and a strange pleasure.

“Remember to be quiet, my love.”

She nodded as he withdrew.

“Richard,” she whispered up at him as he took possession of her once more and the pain eased a little more.

“Richard?” The amazement of what she was discovering resonated in her voice.

Oh Lord. Oh Heavens. His invasion now was blissful and the sensation of being stretched seemed to whisper into every muscle she had.

Her hips pressed upward to receive him, pushing back against him as her heels sank into the mattress. A low growl left his throat.

“Ah.” The sound of pleasure slipped from her lips as his pace increased, firm and hard, rubbing her internally as his fingers had done before. He was taking her towards the little death again – racing her towards it.

“Ah.” The sound became louder as he pushed in to his fullest depth and his pelvic bone struck hers.

“Hush,” he whispered to her ear. “Joseph is above.” She nodded as he withdrew, biting on her lower lip again, but as he thrust into her again, she cried out. She could not help it.

A sound that was more like humour escaped his throat, then his hand covered her mouth, gently smothering her sounds as his pace increased and he began to thrust into her more firmly and quickly as though he was forcing her toward the little death.

Her cries rang out muffled beneath his hand.

“Let it come,” he whispered to her ear. “Fall.”

Five – six – more thrusts, and then she did fall, tumbling from a cliff. Grasping even tight at his arms and biting the skin of his palm that covered her mouth. Blissful sensations swept through her limbs, like a boar tide washing into the dock and her body shook and delicious pain slipped through her blood.

In the darkness behind her closed eyelids she could not imagine any of the men she had spoken to in Calcutta knowing how to bring to teach a woman the little death. Richard Farrow was a master at everything. And now he was master of her.

“Emma, Emerald,” he said quietly. He’d stopped moving inside her.

Richard

“Emma. Emerald.” She was his jewel. His treasure. He’d claimed her. No one else could have her now. And she was wonderful, everything he’d imagined her to be – brave, adventurous and passionate. He’d felt her burn and die for him. “Put your legs about my hips.”

Her silk soft thighs lifted and embraced him as he’d asked, just as she had done in his fantasy for weeks. Her thighs gripped his waist and her shins crossed over the flesh of his buttocks. He moved slowly then, slowly in and slowly out, teasing her sensitive nerves, lifted his hand from her mouth and kissed her to hold her silent.

She was delicious – his siren – a drug passing by osmosis into his blood – a charm weaving about him. Mentally he was on his knees before her. “Emerald.” he whispered, into her mouth, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“It cannot be as much as I love you, no one has loved as I love you.”

She laughed, quietly, her breasts wobbling against his chest as the ship rocked from side to side.

Her fingers embraced the back of his head as he withdrew and pressed into her again. “Richard Farrow is mine.” It was a statement that rang with victory.

Yet he was, absolutely and completely, he would not deny it. The pressure of her fingers pulled him down and brought his mouth to hers again and he kissed her as he worked more quickly, to reach his conclusion, hoping that she might find another too.

She went over the edge in moments, her fluid warmth flooding about his intrusion while her inner muscle clasped and the feel of her release brought on his own, tumbling him into oblivion with her.

When the ecstasy faded he slid free of her body, rolled to his side and then drew her close, his limbs heavy. He laid side-on beside her in the narrow bunk with her breath brushing against his chest as sleep began to creep over him. But he could not fall asleep she had to go back. He kissed the crown of her head. “Emma, you have to go. We can’t risk you being caught here if we fall asleep.”

“I am languid and happy here, let me stay, I am tired.”

“Come on, Emerald, my love” he kissed her shoulder. “You need to get back to your own bed before Rita sees you are gone or we fall asleep and Joseph walks in here to wake me in the morning and discovers you.”

He lifted her leg and turned her, to move her off the bed. She gave into his pressing and got up then picked up her nightgown from the floor. It was rolled up then places over her head then it sheathed her in one fluid movement as he stood up. He walked over to the door without attempting to cover himself.

She began buttoning up her nightdress her eyes on him as he opened the door into the day cabin and stood in front of it to hold it wide. He looked out into the room just in case there was anything in there. “Do the rest of your buttons up in your room, run along.”

“Yes, Cap’ain,” she answered, mocking the commanding tone that he’d used and bobbing a mocking, insulting curtsey as her fingers let go of her buttons, her nightgown revealing the first curves of her breasts. When she straightened she came towards him, to do as he’d asked and leave. But he reached out and stopped her before she could walk past him and drew her mouth to his with a palm at the back of her head drawing her mouth to his. “Minx,” he said against her lips before he kissed her again. When he broke the kiss he said, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” She slipped free from his hold and ran across the moonlight day cabin to the door leading into her cabin.

He breathed out. His life had entirely changed this night.