She snuggled back in. “How did you find him? He worked for Lowdy’s cousin, didn’t he?”
Muttering ensued.
“Pardon?”
“I happened to come across him, ’tis all.”
She raised a disbelieving brow and prodded his ribs.
“I…seek out my half-siblings.” He pulled the coverlet around her neck. “Most of their mothers had been seduced and then abandoned by Father. Some are beyond help, some wanted a new start, and I helped the two girls buy a dressmaker’s shop in Whitchurch.”
Tears smarted for the sheer breadth of his generosity. Maybe she should bind him up with one of the fisherman’s nets, never to let him leave.
Instead, she kissed him.
“I like you, my rogue,” she said.
In truth, she loved him so very deeply, but she would not weigh him down with emotion, cause him to feel guilt when he left.
His lips curled. “That wasn’t the rogue who made delectable love to you earlier.”
“Who was it then?” she asked, laughing.
“It was me,” Jack declared seriously, “the me who cares for you so very much.” And he pulled Tamsyn tight, brushed a hand up her back, causing her to gasp and arch.
No rules had guided him tonight, wholly instinct and indulgence. Her shudder steered his fingers to her rump, to palm the soft handful.
Vaguely, the fact she’d been an innocent some few hours ago wafted through his mind. Tamsyn ought to sleep now, rest her aching body, and he should tenderly hold her with wholesome consideration.
But she wrapped a leg across his own, nipped his neck, long hair draping over his chest.
“Tam, you’ll be…”
She shifted, trailing a hand over his hip and lower, where good intentions ebbed and purely sinful gratification flowed.
“The storm,” she whispered in his ear, “still rages.”
A man could only take so much provocation, and he spun, trapping her beneath him. “My sweet Tamsyn, I believe it’s scarcely begun.”
Now he savoured, relishing every gasp, kissing every freckle, stroking every fragment and adoring every moment. And even when his control reached its limit, when she gasped for him, he continued in his torment.
Rolling, he yanked her astride him, smiled lazily at her shocked gasp, brushed his fingers over her kiss-swollen mouth, fitted her to his brutal arousal before she could think on the bold arrangement. She hesitated but let him guide her rhythm until her own innate chase for pleasure took over, causing him to twist and groan beneath.
He grabbed her hip, ground his body up, and reached to stroke her skin until she cried his name yet again, shuddering, fingers digging into his chest.
Only then did he allow his own desires free rein, welcomed their carnal savagery, the fall of her trembling body against his, as he followed Tamsyn fervently into the broiling storm.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Summer surrenders with nary a gasp.
“’Tis dawn. I must leave.”
Tamsyn longed to ask if there was greater meaning to that simple statement as Jack kissed her forehead and rose from the bed.
A sombre grey did indeed sift through a gap in the curtains but all was peace, the storm having ridden out its rage and power. A dampened freshness blew through the open window with the fragrance of autumn.
Summer had ended.
