Page 76 of The Cornish Widow

Chapter Thirty-Three

Harriet stared down at the man on his knees in front of her, as her poor heart hammered against her ribs so hard she thought it might come jumping out. Was this not what she wanted? This handsome, dashing man who’d kissed her so lightly and gently, his lips like gossamer on hers. And yet… would he not assure her of all of this if he wanted to get her in his power? Men were liars. Ben had proved that to her with his promises of kindness and love. Might not Jack be the same?

She pressed her lips together as she gazed into his golden eyes, groping for an answer that wouldn’t send him running. “I need proof of your good intentions,” was what came out, surprising even herself.

His eyes widened. “Tell me how I can prove it to you, and I’ll do it, willingly.”

She swallowed, and rose to her feet. “I need you to show me how you will love me.” She pulled him up. “Show me you’re not like… him.”

He was towering over her again, and for a moment she doubted the wisdom of her decision. He was so big and strong. He could take what he wanted in the blink of an eye and she’d be powerless to prevent him. Just as she’d always been powerless with Ben. “Bertha has gone to the farm and will be there talking to Mrs. Voas and drinking tea until this afternoon. My children have gone to Roskilly for the day. I am quite alone, here in the house.”

His pulse beat fast in his throat, like a captured bird fluttering. Had she made herself clear enough? Did she even mean what she was saying? Her own daring left her trembling with something more than nerves—excitement, anticipation, and could that possibly be desire?

He must know what she meant. Glancing down, she couldn’t avoid seeing the bulge in his breeches. He’d tried to hide it when they’d been seated, but she’d noticed. What woman wouldn’t? The sight of it sent a fresh frisson of electricity purring through her. A large part of her wanted this, yet another part feared it.

Jack’s tongue darted out to lick his lips, and he tightened his hold on her hands. “Might I, then, finish the kiss that was interrupted on board my ship?”

Her breath caught in her throat. He was asking permission again. Surely that showed he was telling her the truth? “You may.” She could barely get the words out, so dry was her throat.

He lifted a hand to cup her cheek, his touch featherlight. “Harriet, you must know I would never hurt you.” And he bent his head towards hers until their lips touched.

This time her memories of Ben didn’t appear to frighten her off. She let herself press her lips to his, instinct parting them. His other hand clasped her waist, gently pulling her towards him. She allowed herself to be so drawn, until her body rested up against his hips, the bulge of his arousal more than evident.

She might have drawn back at the feel of it, but she stopped herself. She wanted this kiss, and maybe she even wanted what lay hidden in his breeches. What every man had, but in her experience did not use kindly. A shocking thought. Ben had told her only wanton women desired a man’s body, and that it was natural for her to take no pleasure in something he seemingly so enjoyed himself, with his groaning and grunting over her.

The tip of Jack’s tongue slipped between her lips and before she realized what she was doing, her mouth had opened wider under his and she was responding. The hand on her cheek snaked round to the back of her head, his fingers in her hair. Perhaps she should do that herself. She put a hand up to his head, his hair soft under her touch and a tiny groan issued from his lips.

Before she’d had her fill, he pulled away from her, panting slightly, but keeping a light hand on her waist. “Might I be so bold as to ask if you enjoyed that?”

She nodded, as breathless as he was. “I did.” Although he’d held her intimately close, there’d been nothing of the predator about him, apart from that solid arousal pressed against her stomach. Nothing invasive, not even that questing tongue. Not for one moment had she felt violated.

She pulled away. “You need to come upstairs with me.”

He held back. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

She met his gaze. “There’s only one way for me to discover if I can marry you, and that is this way. I won’t marry you if I can’t do it. You wouldn’t want a wife who couldn’t.”

His eyes lit up. “But you will if I prove myself? If you can bring yourself to let me…”

She nodded. “Come.”

He let her lead him into the kitchen, through to the quiet, empty parlor and up the stairs, that creaked at every footstep they took. At the top, she opened the first door and led him into her bedroom. Sunlight slanted in across the wooden floor to strike the bed nearest the window, and dust motes danced in the air like fairy spirits. How different it looked to the room she’d left this morning, now she was entering it with Jack.

She turned towards him, determination in her heart. If she failed to do this with him today, the man she loved, she’d know she’d never be able to remarry. Ever. “Come, sit with me on the bed.”

He sat down beside her, his bulk seeming to fill the room, his masculinity cancelling out the feminine touches she and Lydia had imposed. This had always been a man’s room. They were only interlopers. “Show me, Jack, how you mean to be if I agree to marry you.”

*

What should hedo? That this was a kind of test he might fail bore down on Jack. He could see she wanted him. He wanted her himself, but the fear that he might do something wrong assailed him. How to make her feel at ease? Probably the boorish Ben, whose death he secretly rejoiced over, had never taken the trouble to ready her for anything. He’d been a soldier and had most likely gone in all guns blazing, ready only to satisfy his own lusts. A woman was a fine instrument that required constant tuning, and if only he could tune Harriet, she’d be his.

He drew her towards him. “Will you kiss me?” Make it sound as though everything was her decision, then she’d not feel the almost unavoidable dominance of a man over a woman. He must let her decide the pace.

Surprise showed in her eyes, but she nodded. Without a word, she leaned in for the kiss, one hand going to the back of his head as their mouths met. And this time her mouth was already open. He waited for her tentative tongue to come searching before letting his own meet it, and felt the sudden jerk as he did so. But she didn’t pull away. Instead, she settled more closely into his arms and her mouth opened wider, her tongue fencing with his.

This time the kiss lasted a lot longer, and when they finally broke apart, both of them were panting. “How is it,” she whispered, “that kissing you affects my entire body?”

Jack chuckled. “Because I’m good at kissing. That’s how you should feel when a man… when I kiss you. I feel it too. A thrill that tingles every nerve.”