Animal Lust. Lacy Danes
Jane’s cheeks grew warm. “We will do the act twice more, and then you go off into the woods and leave me here to bear more Ursus?” Or a human child of Jonathan’s. How could he truly want her, knowing that?
He did not answer but pushed from her bed and kissed her. His firm lips nipped and sucked her breath from her. Her head swam in the presence of him.
“I cannot stay. I have grown stiff again. If I do, I will hurt you further.”
She wanted him to stay, to do what he did with her again. She shifted and wrapped her hands about his shoulders, and the flesh between her thighs burned and ached. Ouch!
She nodded; he was correct. Joining again would not be as pleasant as the act could be. The weight of his body compressed the mattress. As he left, her eyes drifted shut.
6
“Miss Milton! Miss Milton!”
Jane stretched the muscles of her thighs and sex, aching. The sensations and images of what she and Martin had done the night before returned and heated her skin. A smile tugged her lips.
“Lord Tremarctos wishes you to join him in his study.”
Oh! She was tired! Her eyes fluttered open to light pouring in around the curtain. The sun. She bolted up straight. She could go home. A smile touched her face, and she scrambled to her feet. The flesh between her legs protested the sudden movements.
Martin…. He would not be happy if she left. She gasped. Her heart ached at the thought of leaving him behind. How had her connection to this man fused so fast? She pinched the bridge of her nose. The decision to leave surely could wait until she saw Martin again. She could, however, send a letter to her parents with haste and inform them as to her whereabouts.
She glided to the washbasin and splashed icy water on her face. Gooseflesh covered her skin, but it didn’t cool the heat raging in her. Wringing out a wet cloth, she dragged the damp cotton down her neck. Her gaze caught her reflection in the looking glass, and she gasped. Her lips were swollen—her tongue darted out and traced the plump surface—her hair a tangled mess, and a startling cranberry flush stained her chest.
Pulling out the edge of her shift, she gazed at her breasts. They, too, possessed the red hue as well as the skin around and beneath her curls. Her fingers skimmed lightly across the smooth-as-silk flesh. Martin. The skin felt just like him. How odd! A reminder of him? He had said he marked her. Was this what he meant?
She pulled her hair back and coiled the thick fair locks at the base of her neck the best she could; then she donned the light green dress Martin had given her. The fabric slipped down her body, and shivers pricked her skin. Martin. She ran her hands down her restrained curves, imagining his hands instead of hers. She turned back to the looking glass. Oh! How the color brought a snap to her eyes. The neckline, a modest square, covered the silk burgundy flesh. Besides her lips, no one would think anything different about her.
Opening her door, Jerome waited to take her to Lord Tremarctos. She followed him down the hall and the grand stairs to the main floor.
She stopped at the doorway to the study. The large wooden door stood open into the room. Lord Tremarctos sat behind a massive desk; on the wall behind him hung a full bearskin. Books and interesting artifacts filled the shelves that surrounded the room. She wished she could linger, to pull the books from the shelves and learn of the hidden secrets of this house.
“Miss Milton,” Jerome announced her and bowed.
“Miss Milton, please come in and sit down.” Lord Tremarctos didn’t look up as he scribbled in an open ledger on his desk.
She stepped across the threshold and into the room on shaky legs. Lord Tremarctos was about to send her home. Her heart jumped into her throat.
Fisting her hands in front of her, she sat in the large wooden chair opposite his desk. He was truly elegant. His long gray hair was tied behind his back. His jacket shone the same dark silver as the threads of his hair.
An icy blue gaze slid down her, assessing, and he sighed. “The weather has lifted. I have a carriage prepared. It will be ready to take you home within the hour.”
She bit her lip and pinched the folds of the soft green skirt. She didn’t want to go. Did Martin know she was about to leave? She glanced up to see Lord Tremarctos staring out the window.
“Miss Milton, I won’t play games. I wish you to leave this house. I can sense your indecision.” He wouldn’t look at her, and his hands fisted on the desk’s surface. “I can see and smell Martin’s mark.” He closed his eyes, and his lips pursed; a crease pierced his brow. “I cannot, will not allow you to remain here.”
“Pardon?” This was because of what Devon had said. His father feared what Mac and Martin would do. She had not seen Mac since morning repast the previous day. “What do you fear by me staying here?”
His gaze shot to hers, and anger flashed behind his eyes. “There is a history here, Miss Milton, something that you could not possibly fathom. I will not let my sons follow the same path. You will leave this house. I do not approve of you being here.”
Her lower lip trembled, and tears pricked her eyes. He did not agree with Martin’s choice? Tears welled further, and her throat tightened. Once again, she was undesired. She should have known that Devon’s comment about station not mattering was a stretch of the truth. If she left, what would Martin do? Did he truly want her as his lifemate? Or had he said that so she would allow him to bed her?
She choked back a sob, her heart slowing to a painful thud in her chest. It didn’t matter. Lord Tremarctos wouldn’t allow her to stay. Without Martin here to defend her, she had no choice but to follow his request and leave. A tear slid down her cheek, cooling the humid flesh as chills of sadness raised the hair on her neck.
Maybe returning home would be for the best. She inhaled a shaky breath. She needed to reassure her family that she remained well and…
She swallowed the large lump stuck in her throat. Martin was different, and even though he felt so perfect, so many things were not right in this situation.
She was not of their station, and she truly still had no idea what the Ursus family was or of what greats and horrors they were capable.
But Martin.
Needles pricked the reddened skin beneath her clothing, and her hand raised and traced the neckline of her bodice. Her body and mind craved Martin. How long would the feel of his skin remain on her body? She may forget him in a day as she had Jonathan. Her finger traced the silk skin of his mark. She would hold on to this memory for as long as she could. Overwhelming emotion for Martin filled her heart to the brim. Tears stung her eyes, and she swallowed her heart.
She wouldn’t leave without saying where she’d gone. If Martin decided he did indeed want her after his father’s rejection, he would know where to find her. She would write a letter to him. She couldn’t just leave.
“Very well, sir. Do you have pen and parchment? I would like to leave a letter for Martin.” She had horrid handwriting, but she could leave a short note.
He nodded and then pulled out a few sheets, a quill, and an inkwell. “This is for the best. Thank you.”
She pinched the quill in her shaking hand and scribbled across the parchment.
Martin
I have returned home to Sudhamly to ease my family’s worries.
Jane
Jane stepped down from the Ursus carriage to the muddy street of Sudhamly. The streets bustled with noontime activity. People turned and stared at the black lacquered coach with the emblem barely recognizable on the side. If she had not lived in the Ursus house, she would have thought the symbol a mistake blurred by the mud.
To her, the red and green emblem of a bear print, claws extended, shone clear as day. Bear…. Chills raced her skin, and the marks on her skin burned.