Read Online Captain Jack's Woman by Stephanie Laurens - Free Book Online
Authors: Stephanie Laurens
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and stared at the shadow patterns on his ceiling.
Neither George nor Matthew had found anything especially odd about Young Kit. Questioned on the way home, Matthew’s estimation had mirrored George’s. Kit was the son of a neighboring landowner, sire unknown. There was, of course, the possibility that Kit was an illegitimate sprig of some local lordly tree. The horse might have been a gift, in light of the boy’s equestrian abilities, or alternatively, might be “borrowed” from his sire’s stables. Whatever, the horse provided the best clue to Young Kit’s identity.
Jack sighed deeply and closed his eyes. Kit’s identity was only one of his problems and certainly the easier to solve. His odd reaction to the boy was a worry. Why had it happened? It had been decades since any sight had affected him so dramatically. But, for whatever incomprehensible reason, the slim, black-garbed figure of Young Kit had acted as a powerful aphrodisiac, sending his body into a state of immediate readiness. He’d been as horny as Champion on the trail of the black mare!
With a snort, Jack turned and burrowed his stubbled cheek into the pillow. He tried to blot the entire business from his mind. When that didn’t work, he searched for some explanation, however insubstantial, for the episode. If he could find a reason, hopefully that would be the end of it. There was a strong possibility that it might prove necessary to include Young Kit in the Gang. The idea of having the young whelp continuously about, wreaking havoc with his manly reactions, was simply too hideous to contemplate.
Could it have been some similarity to one of his long-discarded mistresses, popping up to waylay him when he least expected it? Perhaps it was simply the effect of unusual abstinence?
Maybe it was just wishful thinking on his part? Jack grinned. He couldn’t deny that a nice, wild woman, the sort who might lead a smuggling gang, would make a welcome addition to his current lifestyle. Elsewise, the only sport to be had in the vicinity consisted of virtuous maids, whom he avoided on principle, and dowagers old enough to be his mother. Ever fertile, his brain developed his fantasy. The tension in his shoulders slowly eased.
Insidiously, sleep crawled from his feet to his calves to his knees to his hips, ever upward to claim him. Just before he succumbed, Jack hit on his cure. He’d unmask Young Kit—that was it. The sensation would disappear once Kit was revealed as the male he had to be. George was sure of it, Matthew was sure of it. Most importantly, the smugglers who followed Kit were sure of it, and surely they must know?
The problem was, he was far from sure of it.
Kit spent the following day in a distracted daze. Even the simplest task was beyond her; her attention constantly drifted, lured in fascinated horror to contemplation of her dreadful dilemma.
After incorrectly mixing a potion for the parlor maid’s sore throat, twice, she gave up in disgust and headed for the gazebo at the end of the rose garden. The morning had cleared to a fine afternoon; she hoped the brisk breeze would blow away her mental cobwebs.
The little gazebo, with its view of the rose beds, was a favorite retreat. With a weary sigh, Kit sank onto the wooden bench. She was caught, trapped, squarely between the devil and the deep blue sea. On the one hand, prudence urged that she accept Captain Jack’s proposal for her crew and decline it for herself, slipping cautiously into the mists, letting Young Kit disappear. Unfortunately, neither her men nor Captain Jack would be satisfied with that. She knew them—knew them far better than they knew her. She didn’t, in truth, know Captain Jack, and if she was intent on following prudence’s dictates, she never would.
Coward! sneered her other self.
“Did you see him?” Kit asked, annoyed when her heartbeat accelerated at the memory.
Oh, yes! came the thoroughly smitten answer.
Kit snorted. “Even in moonlight he
Neither George nor Matthew had found anything especially odd about Young Kit. Questioned on the way home, Matthew’s estimation had mirrored George’s. Kit was the son of a neighboring landowner, sire unknown. There was, of course, the possibility that Kit was an illegitimate sprig of some local lordly tree. The horse might have been a gift, in light of the boy’s equestrian abilities, or alternatively, might be “borrowed” from his sire’s stables. Whatever, the horse provided the best clue to Young Kit’s identity.
Jack sighed deeply and closed his eyes. Kit’s identity was only one of his problems and certainly the easier to solve. His odd reaction to the boy was a worry. Why had it happened? It had been decades since any sight had affected him so dramatically. But, for whatever incomprehensible reason, the slim, black-garbed figure of Young Kit had acted as a powerful aphrodisiac, sending his body into a state of immediate readiness. He’d been as horny as Champion on the trail of the black mare!
With a snort, Jack turned and burrowed his stubbled cheek into the pillow. He tried to blot the entire business from his mind. When that didn’t work, he searched for some explanation, however insubstantial, for the episode. If he could find a reason, hopefully that would be the end of it. There was a strong possibility that it might prove necessary to include Young Kit in the Gang. The idea of having the young whelp continuously about, wreaking havoc with his manly reactions, was simply too hideous to contemplate.
Could it have been some similarity to one of his long-discarded mistresses, popping up to waylay him when he least expected it? Perhaps it was simply the effect of unusual abstinence?
Maybe it was just wishful thinking on his part? Jack grinned. He couldn’t deny that a nice, wild woman, the sort who might lead a smuggling gang, would make a welcome addition to his current lifestyle. Elsewise, the only sport to be had in the vicinity consisted of virtuous maids, whom he avoided on principle, and dowagers old enough to be his mother. Ever fertile, his brain developed his fantasy. The tension in his shoulders slowly eased.
Insidiously, sleep crawled from his feet to his calves to his knees to his hips, ever upward to claim him. Just before he succumbed, Jack hit on his cure. He’d unmask Young Kit—that was it. The sensation would disappear once Kit was revealed as the male he had to be. George was sure of it, Matthew was sure of it. Most importantly, the smugglers who followed Kit were sure of it, and surely they must know?
The problem was, he was far from sure of it.
Kit spent the following day in a distracted daze. Even the simplest task was beyond her; her attention constantly drifted, lured in fascinated horror to contemplation of her dreadful dilemma.
After incorrectly mixing a potion for the parlor maid’s sore throat, twice, she gave up in disgust and headed for the gazebo at the end of the rose garden. The morning had cleared to a fine afternoon; she hoped the brisk breeze would blow away her mental cobwebs.
The little gazebo, with its view of the rose beds, was a favorite retreat. With a weary sigh, Kit sank onto the wooden bench. She was caught, trapped, squarely between the devil and the deep blue sea. On the one hand, prudence urged that she accept Captain Jack’s proposal for her crew and decline it for herself, slipping cautiously into the mists, letting Young Kit disappear. Unfortunately, neither her men nor Captain Jack would be satisfied with that. She knew them—knew them far better than they knew her. She didn’t, in truth, know Captain Jack, and if she was intent on following prudence’s dictates, she never would.
Coward! sneered her other self.
“Did you see him?” Kit asked, annoyed when her heartbeat accelerated at the memory.
Oh, yes! came the thoroughly smitten answer.
Kit snorted. “Even in moonlight he
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