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

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

Chapter Twelve

Emerald

For the next seven days Emerald went to Richard’s cabin every night, running through the day cabin in her nightgown, feeling like a ghost as she flitted through the room full of shadows. Then she came alive again in his cabin as he taught her new things, new ways to touch him, or to be touched by him and new ways to rise to the heavens together. There was an intensity in everything he did and she felt worshipped. Cherished. Loved.

His cabin became another world.

On the eighth night she fell asleep in his bunk, her back and hips pressed to his chest and groin. She awoke because his hand gripped her hip pulling her back to make love to her for a second time. He pulled her over him, so his body undulated beneath her with the rock of the sea as he bit and kissed her neck, while she lay on top exposed to the air and the moonlight. It felt wicked.

A sound came from the day cabin, a door opening. The door from the deck into that cabin.

“Joseph,” Richard whispered to her ear. “Hush.”

It was still dark; Mr Swallow must be looking for something and if he came looking for Richard he would discover her. Her heart thumped with a heavy beat of fear but Richard merely covered her mouth and continued while Mr Swallow walked about in the room next door. She heard him opening drawers and speaking to himself. He was barely feet away from where she was joined with Richard. Richard’s strokes were swift as he forcefully pushed them both on towards the end. She bit the skin on his palm as Richard’s form of paradise claimed her mind and body and then a low deep sound rang heavily on his breath near her ear as he came to his end.

Afterwards she stayed still and quiet until Mr Swallow had left the day cabin, then she put on her nightdress, said goodbye to Richard and ran across the day cabin, returning to her own. Rita’s eyes were open and she looked at Emerald but said nothing as Emerald slipped into her bunk.

When Emerald rose in the morning there was a smile on her lips that would not be banished. It had been there for days.

Mr Bishop withdrew her chair at the breakfast table and she looked down wanting to laugh over the secret she and Richard were hiding from the others. When she looked up she caught his gaze, his lips did no more than lift slightly and yet his eyes displayed a broad twinkling smile. “Good morning, Miss Martin.”

“Good morning, Mr Farrow.”

He generally spoke to her less in the day, to camouflage any inkling of the intimacy of their relationship. But she could sense him thinking of her and she watched him when she sat on the deck while she was sewing. Her concentration continually wandered to him and then her eyes followed. She stared as he spoke to his crew on the quarterdeck and when he stood on the poop-deck. She adored him as much as he said he adored her and there was a virile strength in his body that she liked to admire when he was working.

He did not look at her, though, yet she knew he wanted to, he was simply hiding the urge.

After they had lain together in his bunk that night she teased him for it as she dressed. “You do not dare to look at me on the ship in the day and yet in here you stare when I dress… You are coward, Richard, and I have never thought you to be that…”

His eyes narrowed. “It is not that. You will have to stop staring at me on the deck, some of the men are noticing it.”

She did not answer as she slid her arms into the sleeves of her nightdress then pulled it over her head. She enjoyed looking at him.

“You glow like a lantern the way you smile while you look at me. You will give us away.” He was complaining but he sounded amused as though he was not angry but happy over it and she could not extinguish her smiles if she tried. “Your mother has just died, Emerald,” he added as the nightdress fell and sheathed her body. “People expect you to be sad.” She looked at him as the words cut across her middle. That was cruel. She had not forgotten her mother. There was a hollowness within her, an empty place of pain that could swallow her up if she let it but she had been ignoring that darkness and seeking light with Richard.

“If I want to smile I will smile.” She would have walked out of his cabin but he rose and took hold of her hand to stop her.

“I did not mean to upset you.”

“Well you did.”

“I do not want you to be unhappy. I merely do not want you to be ruined by this.”

“I am already ruined, Richard. It is too late to change that.”

His eyes looked hard at her, undecided over something. “But I may still protect you from the needless judgement of others. Please try to be careful.”

She did try the next day. She bit her lip so many times to stop a smile she made it sore because she could not stop herself from feeling proud to have won him. They always spoke at night even as they made love and she asked him questions about his business and the things he traded, the people he employed and the places he’d been to, and she asked how he had begun. He had always held himself back from others but he was not holding back from her. His openness in his conversation had refreshed the sense of self-importance she’d discovered in Malta. She felt as though she saw the world through his eyes as she imagined the things that he spoke of. It had made her feel free. Despite the lack of her mother she had discovered a happiness she had never considered possible and as she sat on the deck reading a book Mr Bishop had loaned to her her thoughts drifted to the future, to returning to India as Richard’s wife and she shut sorrow out. She would rather smile.

***

Over the next few days the air became too cold to walk about on the deck without a thick shawl and she noticed that the hours of daylight were shorter and the sky frequently darkened to a steel grey colour that she had never seen in India.

“You will need a cloak to walk about the deck soon,” Mr Bishop said one day. “It is springtime in England and it can still be chilly.”

Spring, her mother had said, was the end of winter. Emerald had never known the seasons beyond those in India. She had no understanding of what her mother had described as cold winters of ice and snow.

The next day it was colder still and she held her mother’s shawl tightly about her shoulders as she stood on the poop-deck with Mr Pritchard. He was leaning on the rail beside her as Mr Swallow held the giant wheel that steered the ship’s rudder. There was a storm ahead of them and everyone’s eyes were on the haze in the distance that was falling rain, and the line of dark cloud.

Richard was on the quarterdeck below, shouting orders at the crewmen to bring down some of the sails.

“Nature is a dramatic thing isn’t it?” she said to Mr Pritchard as they continued watching the rain approach. When they came closer to it she could see the ripples on the top of the waves but there was no thunder nor lightning and the waves did not look aggressive. It was just a heavy persistent rainstorm. The sound of it striking the water filled the air.

“Miss Martin! Go below!” Richard shouted up from the quarterdeck in his harsh commanding tone. It was not a request. It was an order.

She looked down and met his gaze, smiled, then turned her back to the rail, disobeying as she looked upward turning her face to await the refreshing feel of a shower. “I am not afraid of a little rain, Mr Pritchard, are you?”

It was exhilarating as it swept over them, like sailing through a waterfall. It drenched her, soaking her straw bonnet and her clothes through to her skin. But it had a cleansing feeling.

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.