Kissed; Christian (29 page)

“It was my intent to stay in Charlestown during the construction,” he explained, reaching out and plucking a leaf. He stared at her. “Circumstances, of course, have dictated otherwise.”

She nodded knowingly. “If you’ve been inconvenienced,” she informed him at once, “’tis your own fault.”

Christian’s jaw tautened, but he said nothing in response to her accusation.

The silence between them grew awkward, but he found himself unwilling to abandon their unlikely refuge so soon. Nor could he end this bittersweet diversion as yet.

There were traces of tears in her eyes and upon her cheeks, but he attributed them to her laughter, and ignored the flash of guilt that stabbed at him.

Nor could he deny the fear that had gripped him when he’d found her gone. “Jessie,” he began, his words carefully weighed so as not to frighten her. “Do me the dubious favor of not leaving the house again—not without apprising someone of your whereabouts, whether it be Jean Paul... or even Ben,” he suggested reluctantly, raking his thumbnail over the spine of a leaf. He gazed at her with narrowed eyes as though to see into her thoughts, then sighed heavily. “So I’ll know... where to find you, if... if I need you.”

She averted her gaze. “What if I’ve no wish to be found?”

“Just give me your word,” he demanded, overlooking her flippant response. He tossed the leaf before him. “We’ve had reason to be concerned over gators here,” he lied, looking away. “ ‘Tis for your own well-being I ask this of you.” He turned again to face her. “’Tis true,” he insisted, seeing her wide-eyed expression. “We’ve a few animals missing with no sign of a carcass to be found. I should loathe that fate to be yours.”

A shiver passed down Jessie’s spine, but whether it was over his grisly disclosure, or the way he was gazing at her so solicitously, she could not discern. “And what makes you think ’tis a gator?”

His eyes held hers, unblinking. “For one... ’tis their way to haul their prey back to their nest and dispose of it there, thus no carcass would be found.”

Jessie made a disgusted face. “Gruesome!” she declared, tearing her gaze away. “They are the vilest of creatures.”

He smiled ruefully. “I rather thought you believed I was the vilest of creatures?”

“Yes, well... it seems you have a rival, after all, my lord.” She cocked a brow at him, unable to reassure him, though she was tempted. “Tell me,” she said on a sigh, glancing away, then back, somehow more composed, “are they always so vicious?”

He shook his head, his eyes alight with some unnamed emotion.

Christian’s heart began to pound, for it had not escaped him that she’d managed to call him “my lord.”

“Of usual,” he said, clearing his throat, “they keep very much to themselves.”

“Really? Why not now?”

“Perhaps because their hunting ground has been overrun—or because there are too many, possibly. I dunno. Of usual, they are rather docile creatures.” He smiled, thoroughly amused over the way her brow rose at his disclosure.

“’Tis true,” he asserted, his smile deepening when she cocked her head as though considering. “In fact, I once stood so close to a gator as to be nearly standing upon its snout.” He chuckled softly at the memory, shaking his head in wonder. “It did nothing... nothing at all. In fact, the lazy beast did not so much as stir from the spot where it lay sunning. However,” he continued on a dire note, “those to be found here upon the Ashley seem more vicious than those found inland. They seem to prefer fresh water, and ’tis my guess that if they are found in these salt rivers, such as the Ashley or the Cooper, it is because they are hungry and foraging.”

Shivering, she told him, “I believe I’ve heard quite enough, my lord. I shall suffer nightmares as it is.” She turned her gaze away, seeming suddenly bored by his presence.

“Perhaps ’tis not the most pleasant subject, but it is for that very reason you should not wander about unescorted.”

He couldn’t bear it if anything were to happen to her.

Jessie turned to frown at him. “If it is such an awful place, then why did you choose to come here, my lord? I thought you were so enamored of Rose Park.”

Gazing into her eyes, he again marveled that they never lost their power to captivate him, to reach into his soul. He could never admit to her how he’d felt that day after leaving her at Westmoor—that he’d felt nothing but revulsion for anything that reminded him of her. And Rose Park reminded him of her more than he would have thought possible. He’d envisioned fathering their children there... in the bedchamber he would have eagerly shared with her. He could almost picture her there now, as he’d so often imagined her... lying thoroughly loved within his bed—their bed—her dark curls tousled and softly framing her face... a child’s voice calling to them from the hall... little feet scurrying to greet them... and Jessie... scrambling to repair herself in order to face their... son? daughter?

His tone carefully devoid of emotion, Christian told her, “I’d as soon not discuss Rose Park. Enough to say I sold the estate months ago. Shadow Moss is my home now.”

Could she love him?

Aye, she had given herself to him last night, but lust was one thing and love another entirely.

When Christian looked at her once more, his expression was solemn, his eyes questioning, and Jessie longed to ask him what he was thinking. But she had gone that route once before, and that had been her first mistake. He’d made her care so very much, and then he’d ripped her heart out from her breast. She didn’t want to know anything more about him. Didn’t want to care.

They were probably all lies anyhow.

She found herself staring at his lips, remembering how they’d felt upon her body, and her heart lurched.

“Jessamine,” he whispered. “If you don’t stop gazing at my mouth just so... as though you would devour my lips... I might have to kiss you senseless, love.”

Startled by his words, Jessie dragged her gaze from his mouth to his laughing eyes, and her face flushed crimson. “I—I wasn’t staring at your lips!”

Was it so obvious she yearned for his kisses?

Could he read in her eyes that she wanted him to touch her again? to make her feel alive once more?

Her head reeled at the possibility, and she felt a tiny thrill at the memory of his lovemaking, bitter as it might have been.

His answering grin infuriated her. “I see... and you weren’t wishing that I might lean forward... like this,” he asked. His hand slid behind her neck, though instead of drawing her toward him, he only supported her as he came the distance to her. She didn’t resist him, couldn’t, so dazed was she by his boldness and his nearness. “And you weren’t wishing that I would touch them ever so softly to yours...” His lips brushed hotly against her own. Jessie closed her eyes, helpless to answer. “Like this?”

Jessie was dizzy with wanting him, but she opened her mouth to deny it still. Her negation came out a wistful sigh that made him groan in response. Her body became suddenly liquid, her limbs lethargic and heavy. She felt as though she would die from the sheer pleasure he was offering her. Her belly fluttered nervously as his breath mingled with hers and she caught the scent of sweet brandy.

Their lips separated briefly, and then his mouth descended upon hers once more, tentatively at first, then moving urgently as he suckled her lower lip before raining more kisses upon her delicate chin, moving down ever so slowly to the heated flesh of her throat.

Lord, Jessie thought, his kiss was searing her clear unto her soul!

Had she no pride?

Had she no will?

“Jessie...” He groaned. “You taste so very sweet, my love.” His words felt like delightful caresses to her ears, sending shivers of anticipation down her spine. Desire swept through her, making every inch of her body sensitive to his nearness. Heaven help her, but if the truth be known, she hoped he would never stop. Even against her will, she had dreamed of this, ached for this, wished for it—even at the high cost of her dignity.

God save her, he’d given her the sweetest taste of heaven, and it was not such an easy thing to forget.

Cupping her face within his hands, he turned her cheek, kissing it hungrily as he nibbled her face and whispered softly against her throat, “Come back to the house with me, Jess... Let me love you as I yearn to.” A shiver coursed through her.

It was a long moment before her mind registered his words. But when finally it did, she felt much as though she’d been slapped and then called a whore. He did not love her, she knew that well enough. Did he think she would lie with any man who asked it of her any time it was asked of her? Surely he did, if he thought for one moment that she would allow him to touch her again after all that had passed between them!

Anger filled her breast, and she reared back and shoved him, hard. Somehow, he managed to remain rooted to the tree limb, and it made her all the angrier. It would have served him well to break his neck, or leg—better yet, his pride. Curse the man! “You mean to ask me if I would lie with you, do you not? Unless you mean love, then do not speak of it, my lord! Say what you mean instead!”

As though he were privy to her thoughts and was now taunting her, Christian suddenly grinned, a slow, lazy grin.

Eyeing him wrathfully, Jessie scooted around him and down the stout limb, and in her haste nearly tumbled to the ground. When she was far enough away that he was no longer a threat, she turned and screamed, “I do not like you Hawk!” But his expression remained smug and it reignited her temper. “In fact, I loathe you!” she shouted and wished fervently that she were near enough to scratch his accursed eyes out. Then she turned and marched away.

Smiling still, Christian never moved from his perch within the ancient tree, only watched, chuckling softly. “I’ll bet you do,” he replied glibly, rubbing his jaw as he watched the saucy sway of her hips.

His curiosity was more than appeased.

I
f it was the last thing Jessie did, she was going to find her way back to Charlestown!

She was not—absolutely not—about to remain in this crude hollow even one more instant! In the short time she’d been out of the room, someone had managed to unpack her trunks.

Angrily she now searched the bureaus for her personal items, and when she found them tucked neatly away into Christian’s wardrobe, she snatched them out at once, stomping across the room and shoving them wrathfully back into the trunk in which they belonged. She would not remain near that man for even one more accursed moment! Not if she could help it!

She didn’t bother to turn as the door opened, knowing very well that Christian was the only one who would dare enter while she was within without knocking. She was ready for him now, she swore. If he came near her, if he dared to touch her, if he so much as dared utter a word, she knew just what to say to the man, besides, of course, I loathe you. Good Lord! What was wrong with her that she would lose even her ability to speak coherently when in his presence?

She was startled speechless when it was Quincy who spoke behind her instead.

“Anythin’ else I can do fer ye, mum?”

She turned abruptly, her eyes wide with surprise, though she recovered enough to fix the old man with a wrathful glare. If her eyes had been pistols, Quincy would have tumbled lifeless to the oak floor. “Did—you—do—this?” she ground out fiercely, each word sharper and more hostile than the last. She waved a handful of her clothing at him, and the old man nodded warily, backing away a pace.

“Well! I never gave you permission to unpack my belongings, now did I? And it is because I do not—I repeat, do not!—intend to stay!”

Cramming the green silk dress Christian had chosen for her earlier and a pair of matching slippers into the largest trunk, she slammed it shut and fastened the tarnished brass clasp.

“Now, Jessamine,” Christian appealed as he sauntered into the room at last. “There is absolutely no cause for you to be taking your frustrations out upon poor Quince. He did only what I requested he do.” She spun about to face him, ready to do battle.

Nodding discreetly to Quincy, Christian commanded the old man to leave.

“Now,” he directed, “unpack your trunks. You’re not going anywhere.”

“You can’t keep me here!” she shouted madly. “And I won’t stay!”

“And you loathe me. So I’ve heard.” He laughed then, the mirthful sound infuriating. “Unpack your things, Jessamine,” he said again, still chuckling.

“I will not!” She turned and slammed the lid down definitively. Her breathing labored and her heart hammering, she stood an instant, weighing her options as she stared blindly at her trunks. Truly, there were no options available to her, for how would she go back? She gritted her teeth in outrage. God curse him, but she certainly didn’t have to share the cad’s bed, now did she? Nay! She didn’t! Seizing the side handle of the smallest trunk, she jerked it into movement. With some effort, she pulled it toward the door.

Christian leaned against the doorframe, watching her with unconcealed interest, eyeing her as though she were some novel curiosity. Not until she’d moved the trunk into the hall did he speak.