The Truth by Jane Lark ~ a free book exclusive to my blog ~ part forty-two

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, 39, 40, 41

Emerald

Emerald hurried into the room and closed the door then turned to face Rita who was fully clothed and sitting silently on her bunk. She had put out Emerald’s clothes.

“Miss,” Rita stood up. “Is this wise? Your mother would–”

“My mother is dead,” Emerald answered in blunt denial, a cold pain breathing through her chest. “She is not here to care. Now help me dress. I am late for breakfast.”

As was Richard. The thought brought a smile back to her lips and warmed her inside.

Emerald stood still as Rita pulled tight the laces of her corset and then tied the tapes of her petticoats’. Her body ached from the delicious test of endurance Richard had challenged her with last night. He had displayed a new vitality and he’d seemed so desperate. She could not deny how good it felt to be able to make a powerful man like him desperate for her.

When she left the cabin in Mr Bishop’s company, her hand on his arm, she was smiling broadly, she could not help it. She was living in a dream. The memory of her argument with Richard only made her wish to smile more as she thought of its wicked conclusions.

Mr Bishop held open the day cabin door and she very nearly asked him what had happened about the French ship, when she walked past, only catching her tongue at the last moment when she remembered she should not know. But she had already taken the breath to speak and then stopped. He smiled in an odd way, but then a frown immediately furrowed his brow. He’d been silent as they crossed the deck. She supposed if he suspected, he would disapprove, as Rita who was walking behind them did.

Emerald had a feeling that she blushed. There was only Dr Steel in the room. “Are the others not eating?”

“Mr Pritchard is at the helm and Mr Farrow is with him. Mr Swallow is resting.” It was Dr Steel who answered as he stood.

Rita sat in a chair across the room and Mr Bishop walked ahead of Emerald to withdraw a chair at the table for her. Emerald sat opposite Dr Steel, and felt as though she faced a judge in a court room. But Dr Steel could not know. Mr Bishop would not dare defy Richard and speak even if he had guessed. This was Richard’s ship.

Dr Steel offered her the basket of fresh bread. She still did not want to speak to him. She had not forgiven him for not speaking up about her mother’s illness. Her smile was wiped away.

She accepted some bread and reached for jam. They had cured ham too, which they’d brought aboard in Gibraltar and oranges, with strong coffee or hot chocolate. As she helped herself, Dr Steel asked, “How are you?” His voice formally polite.

“As well as I might be when my mother died unexpectedly a little more than fortnight ago.”

“Am I never to be forgiven, Miss Martin,” he challenged quietly as Emerald took a slice of ham from a plate Mr Bishop held for her.

She looked directly at Dr Steel. “I should not think so. You cannot change the fact you did not tell me and I cannot change the fact my mother is dead and I had no chance to say goodbye. I must endure my pain. You may endure my lack of forgiveness.”

Dr Steel smiled, but it was only an acknowledgement that her jab had cut him as intended. “I am sorry my decision caused you such distress. Yet forgiven or not, if you need to talk to anyone, I am willing to listen.”

She frowned at him. Listen to what? She did not answer.

“Will you sit on the deck this morning?” Mr Bishop’s tone was curt, when normally he was always so pleasant.

She was sure she was blushing again when she looked at him. “Yes, please. I know it is getting colder and soon it will be too cold to do so.”

“Would you like a companion?” His tone was still terse.

The pitch in his voice brought a sense of uncertainty. She wished to ask if he knew about her and Richard and if so would he speak of it? If he would then she would beg him not to. She did not want Richard judged badly because of her. But she could not say anything because what if Mr Bishop had not guessed.

“I would be grateful, if you may spare the time?” Her gaze dropped from his and she focused on her food.

“I may. I know you prefer not to be alone.” There was a change to his voice, it held sincerity and it drew her eyes to look back at him.

He smiled.

She smiled too, remembering how in the beginning she had wanted Richard to be more like him. But she had never been attracted to Mr Bishop, he was kind and polite but he had no spark. It was Richard’s fire which ignited her.

The door into the day cabin from the deck opened. She looked across to see Richard enter accompanied by Mr Swallow.

Mr Bishop stood.

“Sit, Mr Bishop.” It was Mr Swallow who made the direction.

“Gentlemen, Miss Martin,” Richard said in greeting. He bowed his head formally towards her. Her smile became broader again, parting her lips . Less than an hour ago they had been in his bed, wrapped up in each other. She felt another blush and caught the movement of a twist in his lips that implied a smile. She looked away once more, at her food. But when he walked past she distinctly felt the tip of one of his fingers brush across her back.

“What are your plans today, Miss Martin?” he asked when he was seated as he began filling his plate.

She glanced at Richard, very aware of Mr Bishop watching them, and she could not seem to stop blushing. “I have agreed to sit with Mr Bishop on the deck this morning.”

“Then I shall entertain you this afternoon.”

He had not spent time with her for days to avoid suspicion. “Thank you.” She glanced at Mr Bishop and met a look of what seemed to be sympathy. Why? She frowned. Oh. But Richard was probably playing games and facing Mr Bishop’s suspicion head-on denying fear of any speculation. Richard Farrow at his most venomous. But then Mr Bishop would be foolish to speak out. She would not fear it either.

When they had finished breakfast they all stood. “Miss Martin,” Mr Bishop, lifted his arm. She looked back at Richard. He bowed his head then smiled slightly.

“Might I have a word with you later, Captain?” Mr Bishop asked as her hand rested on his arm.

Mr Swallow’s eyebrow’s lifted. “Of course, look me out when you have finished keeping Miss Martin company.”

“Thank you, sir.”

As Mr Bishop walked her from the room, with Rita following, Emerald glanced back again. Richard was talking to Mr Swallow but he saw her look and smiled at her over Mr Swallow’s shoulder, a lightness rising in his eyes. It was the greatest acknowledgement she would receive before his crew.

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 forty

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, 39

Emerald

Richard’s hands slipped beneath the hem of Emerald’s nightdress and grasped her bottom as his lips pressed down on to hers. There was a determination in his hunger for her body. He was still fighting with her, trying to win control. But he would not win that by taking her body because she wanted him to have it. She craved him and the delicious things he did to her as much as he craved her. It was not for him to win when she wanted this too. Yet he was like granite against her tonight. He was still the Richard Farrow he showed to the world, hard as stone and immovable.

His hands slid down to her thighs and lifted her, pulling her legs up about his waist. Then he turned and set her on the table and leant into her as his kiss became more ardent, his tongue entering her mouth. The intensity of his movement forced her to lean back at an awkward angle. Her hands pressed down on the table behind her.

His mouth left hers and she opened her eyes. A smile touched his lips as he began undoing his flap. She saw her Richard shining through in that slight smile. “Richard,” she whispered, looking up at the ceiling as he began using his fingers.

“Emerald, I love you.” His fingers were replaced as his hands clasped the back of her knees and pulled her to the very edge of the table. “I love you to utter distraction, my siren, but if I say things it is for a reason. Remember that. If I ask you to do something do it.”

She looked down and met his gaze. “If it is what I wish to do,” she thrust back, “If it is not, do not ask it of me.”

His lovemaking was like a storm rushing in and it swept at her in overwhelming waves that rose high above her head and crashed over her, forcing her to pay it all of her attention. Then when it was at an end his brow pressed against hers. “Emerald.” He growled and bent his head, then bit her neck lightly, in a playful way. And yet it was not playful, they were still arguing, he still wished her to obey him as everyone else obeyed him.

After he had withdrawn from her he did not secure his flap but picked her up once more and then carried her across the room towards his cabin. “Turn out the lamp,” he whispered.

With one arm about his shoulders, her other hand reached out and flicked the metal shutter down to tamp the flame of the oil lamp beside the door into his cabin.

He pushed the door open and then let it fall shut with a bang behind them as he carried her to the bed. He dropped her on the mattress then straightened up, slid off his braces, and stripped off his shirt, trousers, underwear and stockings.

When he knelt on the bunk to join her there, his eyes held a very dark intensity. He was still angry and the Richard Farrow other people knew, dominating and confident, the man who’d bent an entire world to his will – “thirty or forty,” countries conquered. “I lost count.”

Richard

“Take off your nightdress.” Richard commanded Emerald. Today she had angered and enthralled him in equal measures. He helped her pull her nightdress over her head and off her arms then threw it aside on to the floor.

She had stood on the deck, when he had told her she ought to go into her cabin, and let herself be drenched by the rain. The sight of her had been utterly erotic standing there with her arms out as she had made herself a goddess of the rain. The damned woman. But it had not only been him watching.

He was impatient with her and angry still. For defying him and making an exhibition of herself. He was determined she would not do so again. He wanted to enslave and enthrall her – to make her worship him as he worshiped her. It felt as though she had trapped him in a cage and he was was nothing more than her songbird to be admired and played with.

The truth was he’d been jealous of her standing with Philip. It had cut him somewhere in his chest, seeing the two of them so close, heads together. When he knew he could not get as near her as he wished to on the deck. But regardless of why he had told her go to her cabin the point was she could not defy him and make him look a fool before the men.

But he was her fool! He had been making himself so for days now, expressing his love for her when he was uncertain of how deeply that affection was returned. Damn it! No one defied him! Except it seemed the one person in his life who he had opened himself up to. “If it is what I wish to do. If it is not, do not ask it of me.”

Now she lay stripped bare before him, because she chose it, her pale skin making her appear to be made of china in the moonlight pouring through the window behind him. Such a slender, fragile, delicate woman. It was a false image, a lie. Her core was made of stone, resolute and resilient. But that core was why he loved her, because his spirit was drawn to hers. She was like him. That was the issue between them. She was too much like him. Too determined and opinionated.

He was going to seduce her mind tonight not simply her body; teach her what his love could be at its full power. That was what he was going to do, bring her to her knees and make her see that he was what she wanted – that what she wanted was whatever he asked of her.

His hand pressed over her mouth so that any sounds she made would not be heard by those on duty on the poop-deck above them and then he proceeded to show her just how strongly and how possessively he loved her.

By the time he had used her body for the fourth time that night her limbs were heavy and languid as he lay be behind her pressing into her slowly and moving her as he wished, while he kissed her soft shoulder. She groaned and sighed; he still had her drugged from every other position they had shared tonight.

He could not remember any other woman he’d lain with so carelessly letting the pleasure take a hold of them. The women he’d known before feared letting themselves be tossed about on the whim of desire. Even June had never been brave enough to trust and let go of thoughts of appearance. She had been scared of doing something that may have made her look ugly for a moment, or sound embarrassing.

Emerald was a precious jewel and her slender, gentle fingers were gripping about his heart. It felt as though she would crush it sometimes, and crush him. Then the world would fall apart. But tonight he was searing himself into her soul and burning his name on to her heart like a brand.

When she broke, he broke with her and the earth rocked – or perhaps it was merely the ship rocking on the sea. But it shook him to the bones.

The fifth time that he used her body, pressing his brand into her heart, making the most of the last hours of the night, he held her upright sitting astride him as he knelt on his haunches, while she clung to his shoulders half asleep and putting all her weight in his hands. That breaking was dreamlike and again they shared it.

Afterwards he lay behind her holding her close, replete, soothed and gratified as sleep crept of him.