Page 49 of Stolen By the Rogue
“Will you let me make love to you?” he asked.
Stubborn and tenacious he might be, but George had never once taken without first asking her permission. He cared about her—showed it in all manner of ways that truly mattered.
Tears pricked at her eyes, but this time they were ones born of joy.
“I’ve missed you,” she said. She received a long, loving kiss as a reward.
“So, have I. I’ve missed holding you, loving you. This bed has been so bloody empty over the past few nights. Promise you won’t ever disappear on me like that again. I couldn’t stand it,” he said.
Her fingers reached between them, and she flicked open the top button on the placket of his trousers. A simpleyeswouldn’t suffice. Tonight, she wanted to show George that he wasn’t the only one invested in this relationship.
Taking his hard cock in hand, she began to stroke the long length. On a needful groan, George closed his eyes.
“I promise you won’t ever have to sleep here alone again.” She shimmied down the bed, coming to a halt when she reached the point where she was facing his erect manhood. George speared his fingers into Jane’s hair as she took him into her mouth and began to suck. The soft echoes of his groans were soon the only sounds in the room.
The missing treasure of a long-dead king might have eluded her, but Jane Scott was finally determined that this magnificent prize would be hers.
Chapter Thirty-One
The one true heir did tarry here.
Jane lay on her back staring up at the dark ceiling, the words of the short rhyme rolling continually around in her head. The letter had to mean something. No one in their right mind would have bothered to write a note, then seal it up behind the bricks of the fireplace unless they’d intended for it to serve some purpose.
Disappointment over the journey to Boscobel House sat heavy in her heart. She had set out from London with such great hope, only to see it all come to naught.
Her other reason for being awake at such an ungodly hour was sound asleep beside her on the mattress, snoring gently.
At least one of us is getting some rest.
Their lovemaking earlier had been all that she craved. George hadn’t let her bring him to completion with her mouth. Instead, he had rolled Jane onto her back and thrust deep into her heated core. He had ridden her to an earth-shattering climax.
Absolute bliss.
If he had any idea as to how masterful he was in giving sexual pleasure to a woman, George hid it well. He was a generous lover, always taking his cue from her sobs and groans. When she’d clutched at his hips, desperate for release, he’d shifted position and ground against her clit. Her world had been filled with shooting stars as it exploded.
Now, lying next to him in the dark, she let her mind consider the question of what lay ahead for the two of them.
What was she to do about George? He had hinted at marriage more than once.
But what would a marriage between us look like?
She had trusted one man with her future and been betrayed, and despite what her heart was pleading for her to do, she wasn’t going to rush into making that mistake a second time. There were long conversations to be had before any final decision was made.
Doing her best not to disturb George and his restful slumber, Jane rose from the mattress and headed through the kitchen and out to the rear garden. There was a full moon tonight, and it bathed the world in an eerie, silver light.
After using the privy, she wandered back toward the house, stopping for a moment while she further pondered her options.
What if I don’t stay with him? What if George is not willing to give up his life of crime? If that’s the case, then I cannot see us having a future. I will not bind myself to a man who may end his days at the end of a hangman’s noose.
There were other avenues she could pursue. She could, of course, seek a new role as a governess or perhaps a lady’s companion. Neither option appealed but being alone would mean she had to make her own way in the world. She’d need money and a place to live.
When it came to George, there was still the issue of trust. Once bit, twice shy. It sounded like a well-worn cliché, but it held a world of truth.
“If I could just get some sleep, I might be able to make better sense of all this,” she muttered.
She reached out and placed her hand on the gnarled old oak tree that grew in the rear garden, patting it while she pondered her life’s predicament. Tearing a leaf from one of the lower hanging branches, Jane flattened it out in the palm of her hand. She sighed as she traced her fingertip along the center midrib of the leaf before screwing it up and tossing it onto the ground.
One.
