Seven Wicked Nights (Turner #1.5)

She warmed under his praise. “You just saw me this afternoon.”


“Not all of you.” His gaze landed on the full tops of her breasts where they pressed up against the tight bodice of her gown.

Men were too easy. But oh so enjoyable.

“Cat.” The sound of her name rumbled out from deep in his chest.

“Jamie.”

“I am going to take you to my bed tonight.”

A jolt of pleasure shot down to her feet and made her toes curl. “So certain of yourself, are you?”

He flicked his gaze up to hers and stepped forward. Touched her with the heat of his body, with the spicy scent of his shaving powder. “I will make you mine again, Cat. And I won’t let you go.”

Her breath caught in her throat, trapped by the heated look in his eyes. She did not doubt his intentions. But what did she want?

She wanted to be taken, to be ravished, to be made his.

She wanted sovereignty, independence, unequivocal control.

Cat tossed her head, placed her hand on the sharp angle of his jaw. “I am hungry, Jamie.”

His eyes flared at her words, then dropped into a sleepy, sultry look.

Yes. She would not forget her power over him. “Take me to dinner.”

He cleared his throat. Arched a dark brow. “Is that all you are hungry for?”

With a coy lift of her bare shoulder, she dropped her hand and turned away from him. “We shall see.”

Jamie caught her arm in his and led her into the dining room. Everything was aglow with candles, though the sun had not yet completely set. Her husband seated her by his side at the head of the table. This would be an intimate meal, then, without the length of the table between them as was customary.

She did not mind.

As he sat, Jamie’s coat strained across the shoulders. She did not mind this either. It gave him a rather virile air, as if he could not be contained by civility. She recalled the sight of his chest, unclothed and golden, the curve and heft of his muscle.

He must have noticed her looking, for he chuckled. “I suppose my attire is hopelessly out-of-date.”

She glanced up at him, into his smiling eyes.

“Might you consult with me if I send for a new wardrobe?” he asked.

“Of course.” She took a sip of wine and felt warm everywhere. “What of your valet? Surely he would have an opinion.”

“I haven’t had a valet for years. Frank, the head footman, has been dressing me since my return. I thought I might hire him on.”

No valet? Cat studied him more closely this time.

Jamie laughed again. “You appear shocked, dear wife.”

“Who dressed you if you had no valet?”

“I dressed myself.”

“And there were no mishaps?” Quietly, the footmen served the first course of white soup.

Jamie tilted his head playfully. “I would not say that, exactly. Though the worst of it was no fault of any valet. It was simply a great misunderstanding.”

Cat smiled. It was so easy between them tonight, as it used to be. “Do tell.”

“I was in the French West Indies, on an island called Martinique. It had been a long, windless sail from Morocco and I was impatient to stretch my sea legs. I went for a walk into the hills and stumbled upon a waterfall for bathing.”

“Bathing out of doors?”

He nodded. “Fresh water was a boon I never passed by. And this waterfall was beautiful, higher than the mast on our ship. The water fell into a pool rimmed with rocks and ferns. As I was completely alone, I quickly divested myself of my clothing and jumped into the pool.” He shook his head as he remembered. “It was heaven.”

Cat could picture Jamie, naked and tan and wet, surrounded by a tropical lagoon. Goodness, she would like to have seen that.

“I wish you had been there.” He winked. “I thought of you. What I would like to do to you.”

“Strangle me, you mean?”

He reached across the table and touched her cheek. “I never stopped desiring you, Cat.”

Her pulse leapt and tumbled. “Alas, I was here in Nottinghamshire.” Where you left me.

“I would take you anywhere you wished to go. If you want to see the world, I am your escort.”

“I like my comforts too much for exotic travel.”

“Then I will take you somewhere you will be treated like a queen.”

Two footmen entered and served their pheasant. Cat assumed Jamie had requested this dish, it being her favorite. The sauce had an unusual color to it. Jamie watched her taste it.

Her brows lifted with the spice on her tongue.

“I supplied Cook with a special curry powder.” He watched her take another bite. “Is it to your liking?”

“I have never tasted a flavor like it.” She swallowed another bite. “I find it quite invigorating.”

“Yes, it is that.” Jamie smiled at her.