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.

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-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

Emerald

As she slid between the sheets, Emerald’s heart thumped hard within her chest. ‘I love you. I have done so for weeks. I shall give you space and time. I will not speak yet. But I will do so when the time is right… Will you listen to me then?’

He’d said he loved her. He’d kissed her. Richard Farrow. Richard Farrow! Her friends in India would be suffering hysteria if they knew. No one succeeded in becoming close to him. No one really knew him. And he had declared his love for her .

A thousand butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she rolled over and turned her back on her mother’s empty bunk. He’d promised to speak! He was going to offer marriage! She could go home to Calcutta!

Her friends would be green with envy.

‘We can travel. I can show you places, give you the enlightenment and knowledge you long for.’

Her heart beat echoed in her ears. She could have everything she wished for. She need not marry her distant cousin, the stranger, in England. She would be married to a man who loved her. She would be envied in Calcutta. Richard had treated her with respect, and he admired her intellect. In her mind she imaged her marriage. She would learn his business and make herself his equal. She need not submit to him as she would have been forced to submit to her unknown cousin in her English marriage.

A smile parted her lips as sleep claimed her.

***

Once Emerald had dressed in the morning, Mr Bishop knocked on the cabin door and invited her to join the men to break her fast. “…The consensus of opinion, Miss, is that you should not be left alone.”

She accepted and wrapped one of her mother’s shawls about her shoulders. She’d found it out this morning, seeking the comfort of her mother’s smell.

Her hand lay on Mr Bishop’s arm to walk across the deck, while Rita walked behind them.

When Mr Bishop opened the door of the day cabin, she was greeted by the sight of Mr Swallow and Richard leaning over the charts that were spread out on the table.

She walked across the room, to look at the charts, as Richard straightened and turned. He smiled at her and the look in his eyes was endearing. I love you, he’d said last night.

She glanced at the door where they’d sat together. It was still unlocked, she had hidden the key again but left it open.

Her gaze turned back to him, and she smiled too, then looked at Mr Swallow who’d also straightened. She and Richard had a secret to hide from him – from everyone.

“Good morning, Mr Swallow,” she said as Richard came forward. Then she turned and offered her hand to Richard.

“Miss Martin.” He held her hand and bowed over it.

Tremors skimmed up her arm. Last night he had kissed her mouth and her tongue had danced with his.

When he let go of her hand, she could sense her blush. Her gaze focused on Mr Swallow. “Where are we currently?”

Mr Swallow pointed at their position on the map as Richard walked away. She was intensely aware of Richard, her body hummed in recognition of his proximity as the maps were rolled up and put aside. Then all through breakfast she kept glancing at him, but he showed not one single sign of any deeper attachment. She could have dreamt last night. But she had not.

The men rallied about her for the rest of the day, watching over her, speaking to her constantly, taking it in turns to entertain her on the deck, or in the day cabin, playing cards or chess, conversing or perambulating about the rails with her. Though, she refused to speak to Dr Steel, she had not forgiven him for his lies. But Richard, in everyone else’s presence, he kept his distance, showing no sign of attachment and treating her as the others did. She longed for the night to come. To discover what would happen next.

When she slipped through door into the day cabin after dark, Richard was there, looking at the charts, his evening coat and waistcoat removed, his hands leaning on the table as an oil lamp swung from a hook above him.

“You were waiting for me…”

“No. I am looking at the charts.” But despite his denial he opened his arms to receive her as she ran across the room to him.

He kissed her for a long time, and then his head bowed and his breath was hot and heavy against her neck as his hands gripped her waist with the strength of iron bars, holding her away.

When his head lifted, his eyes shone with a strange brightness. “You should go to bed, Emma. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

She went to him again the next night.

The following day after they’d eaten breakfast, Mr Swallow walked ahead of them with Rita, out on to the deck. Emerald stopped and grasped Richard’s coat sleeve, to stop him, then pulled him behind the door and rose on to her toes and pressed her lips against his. She was tired of his stone like denial in the daytime, it had become annoying. Insulting.

His fingers had clasped her nape and he kissed her hard for an instant, brushing his tongue into her mouth before pulling away with a smile. Then he straightened his coat and turned away holding out his hand, bidding her exit first.

Pride swelled in her chest, denying all her grief as she walked past him, letting her skirt brush his legs. But then she caught Rita’s gaze, there was judgement in Rita’s eyes. But Emerald need not explain herself to her maid.

She went Richard in the day cabin again that night, and during the next day he found two opportunities to pull her about corners out of sight and kiss her briefly.

But on the sixth day of their trysting, she admitted a truth to herself – she was in love. With Richard Farrow! The silent, dark, secretive man she’d often watched from a distance in Calcutta and called cold, and hated. He was not cold but kind, and caring. Respectful. Dependable. He was two men. The business man who walked among his crew in the day and the one who kissed her and whispered words of love to her.

But she was his secret now, and he was hers. She knew the second man, the fire and warmth within him that he never showed to others.