And he would pay for her weakness with his precious life.
* * * * *
It was nearly two o'clock in the morning when Jack Shaw strode down the gangplank of his ship in London. Thick fog swirled around his boots as he left the dock and vaulted into his waiting carriage. He looked at his man of affairs who sat across from him. "She's in residence? You're certain?"
"Yes, Mr. Shaw. Lady Caroline is here. I saw her myself, just to be sure."
Jack breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed into the squabs. He'd deliberately timed his docking, aware that if he arrived during the day word would spread of his arrival and Caroline would hear of it. For the sake of his ego, he'd denied for years that she was running from him, but after this last occasion in Virginia he could no longer delude himself.
Lady Caroline Seton didn't want anything to do with him.
At the age of five and twenty Caroline was considered a spinster by choice. Highly sought after for her beauty and unaccountable wealth, she rejected all suitors. She was an enigma in every respect, a beautiful and vivacious young woman who had taken the Beau Monde by storm. Her origins were unknown, her courtesy title derived from a tenuous tie to a title now held in abeyance. Jack appreciated her mysterious appeal for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was the pleasant notoriety that allowed him to find her wherever she was.
Unfortunately, he'd caught only fleeting and rare glimpses of her over the last two years. Yet every time he saw her Caroline attracted him on some deep, primitive level he'd never experienced before. She traveled with no abigail or companion to lighten her journeys and he respected her strength of will and intrepidness. No other female of his acquaintance would travel the world alone, flaunting convention and unafraid of censure. He appreciated her individuality and admired her for it.
"You've gone to a great deal of trouble to locate Lady Caroline," his man of affairs murmured.
Jack's chest expanded on a deep breath. Caroline was the only woman he had ever pursued. He hungered for her, desired her on a level that went far beyond the physical. She felt their unusual connection as well, or she wouldn't be avoiding him. But running was futile. There was truly no choice for either of them. After that night in the Moreland garden their fate had been sealed. Soon she would see that.
"I missed her in Virginia by only an hour," he brooded, remembering the nearly unbearable frustration he'd felt when he learned she'd fled to London on one of his own ships. But he had come for her. She would not be getting away again. This time he would soothe her concerns.
This time he would be catching Caroline.
The carriage rolled to a halt and Jack alighted. He paused on the street and gazed up at the home where his love slept. Three storied and Georgian in design, it was situated in a part of town that was not quite fashionable. The street was quiet and dark. It was a location that suited Caroline--mysterious and on the fringes of society.
"Here is the key, Mr. Shaw."
Jack turned and held out his ungloved hand, his fingers curling around the metal that would grant him his deepest desire.
His carriage moved away, the clopping hooves of his team of four and the rolling of the wheels echoing eerily around him. Climbing the front steps of Caroline's townhouse, Jack gained entry with the key he'd ordered made from a wax impression.
Once inside he moved unerringly through the darkened house, following her scent and traversing the galleries without light until he found her.
Testing the door to her bedchamber, he was relieved to find the portal unlocked and he entered, sliding the bolt home behind him.
The room was shadowed in almost complete darkness. The fire in the grate was banked and barely gave off light, but he had no difficulty seeing. It was a small room, but perhaps that was merely the impression he received from the massive bed that dominated the space. Before the fire waited two wingback chairs. A book and blanket rested upon the arm of one; a cozy picture that warmed him as surely as the coals.
As if she sensed his presence, Caroline stirred restlessly. "Jack," she breathed in a sleep-throaty murmur that made his skin mist with sweat and his c**k swell.
Stepping away from the door, he moved toward her, the tight knot of longing he'd felt these last years loosening with her proximity. He lit the taper on the nightstand and paused at the fierce reaction of his body to the sight of her in the bed. In the golden glow of the candle Caroline was ravishing.
Her soft, creamy skin was flawless. Against the white linen pillow, the gleaming curls of her hair were spread with wanton abandon. His fists clenched against the powerful urge to run his fingers through them, to cup her head in his hands and hold her still for his ravishment. Her full lips were parted with the deep, rhythmic breaths of slumber, which lifted her chest and outlined her ripe br**sts against her night rail.
He smiled. Within moments those br**sts would be bare and pressed to his chest, that sweetly parted mouth would be panting and crying out his name as he made love to her like he'd wanted to do for years.
It was time for her to see him as well, to remember and feel the powerful attraction between them, an attraction so overwhelming that time, distance, and unfamiliarity had not affected it.
Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, Jack brushed the back of his hand across her cheek. She nuzzled into the caress, but slept on. His smile widened. Using the sheer power of his will, he called to her, Caroline, come back to me.
* * * * *
Caroline sat up, and discovered Jack Shaw once again invading her dreams. Dressed simply in sweater, breeches and boots, his casual attire bred a familiarity far removed from the glittering ballrooms and Society events from which she knew him and dreamed of him. His hair was slightly longer than she normally pictured it, the dark ebony strands falling across his proud forehead and curling at his nape.
But some things were constant. The sharp silver of his irises glowed with sexual intent and his full, firm lips were curved in the wicked smile that made her heart race.
She took a deep breath, resigned to her torment. He was so achingly gorgeous she had no defenses against him, and the tenderness of his gaze shattered what was left of her heart. Pushing her curls away from her face, she asked mournfully, "Why must you torture me?"
He blinked as if she'd startled him. "What are you talking about, sweetheart?"
"You know very well what I'm asking you. Why can't you allow me even one night of restful slumber? I think of you ceaselessly during my waking hours, why must my sleep suffer as well?"