The Bastard by Brenda Novak Read Free Book Online

Her safety depended upon this man not seeing her face or learning she was a stranger, but her accent could also give her away.
    “You’re freezing,” he said on a sigh. “Did I hurt you?”
    Grateful for the spirits she could smell on his breath, Jeannette shook her head. She could only hope his wits were dulled enough to conceal the more obvious differences between herself and the barmaid.
    “Come on, then, if you’re so eager,” he said gruffly, rolling off her. “Perhaps I could use a diversion after all.”
    Rising, he reached down to help her up.
    Jeannette’s eyes cut to the door. She wanted to flee, but feared she wouldn’t make the hall before the lieutenant caught her. Judging by his lithe movements, he could intercept her in a second, if he tried. Yet she dared not protest or speak again because of her accent.
    She allowed him to help her up and reluctantly followed when he pulled her to the bed.
    “What? You have nothing to say?” He chuckled as Jeannette tried to jerk away, then turned and dropped back onto the bed, pulling her down on top of him.
    The sensation caused by the renewed contact of their bodies made Jeannette gasp. His warm, sinewy flesh felt even better than she had imagined, watching him downstairs. She tried to ignore the strange yet evocative sensation of skin on skin—not at all easy the moment a much more private body part stirred to life against her leg.
    “Don’t be frightened,” he said when she nearly bolted again. “You have nothing to do with my foul mood, and I think you’re right. A few moments with your warm, generous body, and I will be good as new.” His mouth slanted across hers, roughly insistent. Then, reining in whatever had prompted the harshness of his kiss, he rolled her onto her back and added, “Be calm. I won’t hurt you.”
    Jeannette swallowed hard as he ran a finger along the line of her jaw. He stopped at her chin, and she could taste the slight tang of his skin as he rubbed her bottom lip with his thumb. Struggling to control her fear, and the flow of a strange emotion she couldn’t name, she wondered if he could feel how hard her heart was slamming against her chest.
    “You taste like honey,” he said. “And your hair smells like rain.” He buried his face in her neck, breathing deep while Jeannette lay frozen beneath him. The sensations assailing her body seemed to paralyze her mind.
    “I may have underestimated your charms. You’re cleaner than any barmaid I’ve ever met.” He kissed the tip of her nose as his hands began to knead her back, slowly lowering to the curve of her hips. When he reached her bottom, Jeannette nearly screeched and jumped out of the bed. Only the hope that she’d have the opportunity to escape without incident, if she exercised patience, kept her where she was.
    Treynor’s hands wandered back up to cup her breasts as his mouth moved on hers once again. This time his kiss was deep, but not harsh. His lips moved over hers, gently compelling her to respond, and she found this coaxing technique highly effective. She began to feel as if she was on fire—as if something in her body had taken over that no longer accepted orders from her brain.
    Who would have guessed a man could make a woman feel so...eager, Jeannette thought in surprise. Her father would surely abhor the thought of her being pawed by a sailor, even an officer, but she was almost glad to find she wasn’t incapable of desire.
    As Lieutenant Treynor pressed her lips apart and flicked her tongue with his own, letting her taste him as he tasted her, Jeannette’s thoughts became fractured, disjointed. Her parents...she had to remember her parents. But the sweet, velvety softness of his mouth invaded her senses. Unresisting, she quivered at his touch.
    “Are you still cold?” He’d misunderstood her reaction. After reaching back with one hand to throw a blanket over them both, he wrapped himself more tightly around her.
    Oddly, Jeannette had no desire