by Emma Wildes
“I heard he was going off to fight the French. So, I was foolish and told him how I felt.”
“And?” The question was cautious, almost afraid.
Jessica let a rueful smile touch her mouth. “He was extremely surprised. Almost as if an inanimate object had come to life and begun to talk. I suppose at that moment I realized how he saw me. As a child.”
Visibly relaxing a little, Ariel looked sympathetic. “And it hurt. But surely you see now that if Alex had reacted in any other way, he would be the rascal you think him. As it is, you were still a child and he would hardly consider you in a romantic—”
“That particular scene is not what makes me think ill of Alex,” Jessica interrupted, her cheeks heating.
A cool night, moonlit gardens, an interrupted lover’s tryst…
“No?”
“No. That afternoon he was kind enough to me.”
Rather like the night before. After four years of despising him, it was galling to think she’d clung to him and wept in his arms.
To Jessica’s infinite relief, the door opened then. “Your Grace, Miss Roweland’s room is ready and her things unpacked.” A young maid bobbed a curtsey.
“Thank you.” Ariel looked vaguely irritated at the interruption.
“I need to change for dinner.” Taking advantage of the moment, Jessica ducked her head and practically ran out of the room.
Chapter 5
The dinner was intimate, en famille, and in a word, excruciating.
Alex determinedly downed another glass of wine and scooped up a tender, perfectly cooked forkful of fish. He should be enjoying himself. There was fine wine instead of tepid water, delicious food instead of dried rations, and he was clean, well dressed and would sleep safely in a warm, soft bed that night. Besides all of that, he was with his family, whom he loved.
And he would appreciate all of those wonderful things if it wasn’t for Jessica Roweland treating him openly like a particularly repulsive leper.
She had been at Grayston a week now. She was sweet and charming to his mother. She smiled at Marcus and laughed lightly at Ariel’s gossip. His sister-in-law had confided to him Jessica was marvelous with the children and they adored her. In fact, it was plain to see his whole family was enchanted to have her as their guest, and he knew they were trying to get her to stay on until her upcoming wedding.
However, he heartily wished she had not been seated directly across from him for the evening meal.
Dressed in a deep rose gown that flattered her ivory skin and gleaming dark hair, she was the very picture of pure young feminine beauty. Despite his every effort, he found his gaze straying time and again to the graceful length of her slender neck, and involuntarily downward to where the full mounds of her breasts were shaped by the fabric of her gown. The neckline was modest enough, but he knew full well what was beneath. The imprint of her soft body lying under his was apparently burned permanently into his memory as much as he’d tried to just forget it.
He, of course, was an idiot to dwell on it. She obviously loathed him and made no secret of it. Her cool demeanor spoke volumes.
Never, not once, had she looked at him or spoken to him during the entire course of the evening. It had been the same story all week long. During his brief visits to Grayston in the past days, she avoided him like he was a plague-ridden rodent.
It was also becoming obvious to his family. Marcus had made a few remarks about it, wondering about the source of the tension. Several times Alex had caught Ariel looking at him with curious reproof. His mother had flat-out asked him what he’d done to offend Jessica.
He sure as hell had avoided that question, mumbling some nonsense about Robert and their close friendship. The last thing he wanted to do is tell his own mother that a young girl had caught him making love to a half-naked woman in her garden years ago.
Not that Jessica had any right to be there that long-ago evening, damn it.
Grimly, he took another bite of fish and washed it down with a gulp of wine. Well, I’ve had enough, he thought sardonically as he watched her laugh lightly at something Marcus said. If she wanted a battle, he was certainly willing to oblige. He’d reached his limits of largesse.
With the advantage of a slight lull in the conversation, he leaned back in his chair and drawled coolly, “Dearest Jessica, tell me, where is your eager young husband-to-be? I thought surely by now he would have arrived, frantic to see to your welfare. I am anxious to meet this man who has won your heart.”
The shot, spoken in a flowery, out-of-character tone, went home. She flushed instantly, her mouth compressing into a thin line. Her eyes, so lovely and luminous, flashed fire and she looked him in the face for the first time all night.
Alex stared back in challenge. The table at large fell quite silent.
Ariel interjected suddenly, “It is a sound guess to suppose Jessica’s message has not yet reached him. He travels frequently on family business.”
“Ah, I see.” Alex lifted one brow in cynical amusement as Jessica’s flush deepened. His sister-in-law began to babble then, something about a party she’d recently attended, and his mother joined in. Jessica looked away, ostensibly out of polite attention to the sudden burst in conversation.
It was small, petty satisfaction to know that even though she hadn’t spoken to him, he’d made her acknowledge he existed. It made him feel worse, not better.
Blood and thunder.
The family dining room was lit by flickering tapers, the elegant furnishings a comfort after four years of war. It seemed incredible that this world—this genteel and sophisticated existence—could reside on the same planet as the wild and dangerous place he’d left behind in Spain. All the blood, the horrible violence and incomprehensible sights—all of that faded away amidst luxury and plenty. There were even fresh flowers on the table—overblown crimson roses that sent a seductive scent across the whole room.
Lifting a hand, he gestured for more wine.
Across the table, Marcus frowned. Alex was well aware he might be overindulging, but by damn if he was going to be scolded like a child by his older brother. He deliberately lifted his glass in a mocking toast.
Roast pheasant followed the fish. He barely noticed. As he ate mechanically, Alex managed to down a good deal more wine. It was a relief when the plates were cleared and he and Marcus could retire to the study for tobacco and port. They weren’t even in the door before Marcus said curtly, “What was that all about, Alex? I think Jessica Roweland has had enough adversity lately without you bringing up the fact that her fiancé has not responded to her letter.”
“If you remember,” Alex replied, stung, “I was the one who suggested she stay here because I felt pity for her plight. Hell, I brought her here. And there’s something about being treated like a block of wood that doesn’t sit well with me. If you want to lecture someone on their manners, brother, perhaps you should start with her.”
Marcus crossed the room and sank into a chair, staring at him all the while. A low whistle escaped his lips. “So, that’s it.”
“What is ‘it’?” Stifling his irritation with effort, Alex strolled over to the carved table in the corner and reached for the port.
“Our very lovely Miss Roweland is immune to your infamous charm. In fact, she doesn’t seem to like you at all. The little worshipful girl who used to follow you around like a puppy has been replaced with a beautiful woman who won’t even glance your way. And it irks you.”
“Never having exerted my charm, infamous or otherwise, on her, let me assure you that assumption cannot be true.” Port splashed generously into a crystal glass and Alex lifted it to his mouth.
“I don’t believe you. There was a great deal of tension between the two of you at dinner. Hell, at all times, for that matter. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a female between the ages of twelve and a hundred ignore you before.” Marcus chuckled. “Yet she manages it very well.”
The port tasted cloying, oversweet and thick on his tongue. Alex s
et the glass aside, turned and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m always gratified to be a source of amusement for you, but in this case you’re wrong. This is part of an old…well, a very old misunderstanding between Jess and I.”
Marcus sobered, rubbing his jaw. His blue eyes were very direct. “Old misunderstanding? You’ve been gone for a long time. Surely she was just a child when you left.”
“A rather precocious child, if you recall.”
“True, she was that. But I guess I still don’t understand.
What happened?”
Suddenly restless, Alex evaded the question. “It was nothing. Or so I thought. I disappointed her.” He glanced out the window, seeing that a scattering of stars graced the inky blackness of a beautiful night sky. The sweet, warm air coming through the open pane seemed to soothe the ache that had begun to spread from both temples. A night bird called somewhere from the darkness, a mournful sound.
Yes, he had shocked and disappointed her.
And she was apparently determined to not let him forget it.
Abruptly changing the subject, he said, “The repairs on the house are going well. Thank you for recommending the carpenter.”
Distracted, the ever-practical Marcus launched into an interrogation of how the project was going.
Alex was more than willing to discuss banisters, beams and wall supports in lieu of the very stubborn Miss Roweland.
* * * *
Jessica slipped out through the terrace doors off the dining room as she had every night she’d spent at Grayston. Some things, she thought wryly as she felt the cool air caress her cheeks, never did change. As a child she would sneak out of her room at night and savor the freedom and closeness of the darkness.
The Grayston gardens were as beautiful as ever, and in June, bursting with a thousand warm scents. She strolled wistfully along the path, lifting her face to the fragrant night breeze. Both Ariel and her mother-in-law, the dowager duchess, were avid about the estate’s gardens. The result was an array that was any botanist’s dream. She idly paused and plucked a white exotic blossom from a glossy-leaved bush and tucked it into the heavy fall of hair behind her ear. The night sky held a lovely spattering of stars and a perfect crescent moon.
Damn Alex and his unsettling questions. The man had a knack for setting her teeth on edge with his sarcastic insinuations. Especially this one.
One that hit so close to home.
Why hadn’t Nathaniel responded to her letter?
It was possible, of course, that he was off on some business trip just as she’d suggested to Ariel. The Greenes were concerned in many ventures, he’d told her so himself, and he was kept very busy managing them.
Nathaniel had regretfully informed her that as his wife, she’d be alone a great deal.
Which was absolutely fine with her.
Not, she hastily reminded herself as she strolled along, that she wasn’t eager to become Nathaniel’s bride, she was simply used to solitude, especially since the death of her parents. She really did not mind being alone.
The tall silhouette loomed before her, coming out of nowhere and making her gasp aloud. She stopped abruptly before she careened directly into it. Hard hands shot out to grasp her arms in a steadying grip, and Jessica had to tilt her head up to see the face of the invader into her dreamy, moonlit walk.
She already knew who it was before she recognized the silver shimmer of his pale hair, the austere and elegant line of mouth and jaw, the blaze of eyes that she knew were bluer than the summer sky.
Alex.
“Well, fancy meeting you here, Miss Roweland. I thought that perhaps you had learned your lesson about wandering the gardens at night many years ago.”
His deliberate direct reference to something so hurtful and shattering was like salt pouring onto tender, abraded skin. She jerked away from his touch and stepped back, theatrically rubbing the spot where his long, strong fingers had held her. “I thought perhaps all the beasts were in for the evening. It seems I was wrong. Again.”
“It seems you were.” His smile was slow in the darkness and his teeth gleamed white. “There are still a few of us out and prowling about.”
“God help us all.”
“Or at least you.” His eyes glittered.
Jessica took another step backward. “What is that supposed to mean?” Her voice was as icy as she could make it under the circumstances. His very posture was somewhat threatening and she’d seen earlier her deliberate snubs were beginning to get under his skin.
He was so very large and broad and tall, outlined by the shimmering moonlight like some ancient god, dark and powerful.
Alex’s voice was soft, lethally so. “This little demonstration you’re putting on has ceased to be amusing. I understand you have no regard for me, fine. But my family is becoming uncomfortable with the tension and I won’t have it. You are a guest in their home and I am only here for the extent of my leave. We should at least be able to be civil to each other, for their sakes, if not our own.”
Jessica squared her shoulders but her heart was pounding. He sounded very angry. She said evenly as possible, “I am civil. Very much so.”
“By not looking at me or speaking to me?” he pointed out. “Forgive me if I’m not one of your simpering admirers, Lord Alex. And as for speaking, I simply have nothing to say to you. We have very little in common, for which I am grateful.”
“Well, find something then.”
“I am afraid I am not well-versed in the most favorable spots for sordid liaisons, nor can I speak eloquently on the easiest methods of removing a lady’s clothing before she even realizes what you are about.” Her smile was a brittle parody of the real thing.
Alex Ramsey took a long step toward her. She held her ground, glaring up at him with as much defiance as she could summon. He said gratingly, “Do not continue to push me.”
She could smell the heady scent of wine on his breath and remembered how often he’d had his glass refilled at dinner. Everyone at the table had begun lifting their brows, even the duke.
“You’re drunk,” she spoke contemptuously, and spun away.
Catching her shoulder, he spun her back. “Yes, I am. And no, we haven’t finished our discussion. Agree to a truce, Jess.”
She was all too acutely aware of the strength of the hands that held her, but not actually afraid. Whatever she thought of the man, he wouldn’t hurt her. She snapped out, “No.”
He caught her wrists and jerked her forward so that she stumbled on the path and fell against him, chest to chest. “Yes. Agree.” His breath stirred her hair.
She seethed. She raged against his effrontery, against the way that he was holding her, touching her. Looking up to meet his angry shimmering gaze, she said hotly, “I despise you. You are nothing but a womanizer with the morals of a toad. Any man who would seduce a married woman at his mother’s party is a scoundrel.”
His grip on her wrists tightened fractionally. She was flush against his tall body, and could feel muscular hardness of his thighs, hear the beating of his heart. It was difficult to maintain an aura of dignity when she felt so very small next to his height and lean strength.
His eyes narrowed. “Always, always, we’re back to that, are we? God in heaven, that was a long time ago. Can’t we forget it?”
“Is that how it works, you seduce and forget?” Her tone was falsely sweet.
“Did it occur to you, Jess, that she might have seduced me?”
The question took her off-guard. “What?”
In the starlight, his face was a handsome mask of shadows. His lashes were long and very dark over his eyes. He drawled softly, “Oh yes, that is how it works sometimes, my little innocent. The brush of a breast against your arm, the flutter of a fan that taps your wrist suggestively, the placement of her hand, just so, under the table on your upper thigh during dinner. I’m not always the hunter. The game is played from both sides. That night, I was not the one who suggested the gazebo.”
She choked out, “Don’t try to excuse your amoral behavior.”
“I’m not excusing anything, as I don’t answer to you. I am simply enlightening you to the truth. Passion is a sport played equally by men and women.”
“I don’t care about your…sport.” Jessica jerked against his hold. “Let me go, Alex.”
“That’s because,” he said thickly, “you don’t know anything about it, Jess. How can you condemn what you know nothing of?”
“What I know and don’t know is none of your business.”
“Oh, come on, Jess. Don’t try and tell me your laggard lover ever taught you a thing about what goes on between a man and a woman. You wear your innocence like a flying flag on a ship’s mast. Maybe I should change that.”
“What?” She gaped, going very still.
* * * *
Alex usually could hold his liquor well, but tonight frustration had intensified the effects to a startling degree. A part of him understood her feminine affront over the incident years ago because it had toppled him from some absurd pedestal. A part of him was angry that he was being punished for a wrong he’d never intended.
A part of him was simply very attracted to her and he was not used to such open disdain.
He wanted to taste her. Very much.
She was pressed against him because of the pressure he exerted on her arms. The softness of her breasts and the curve of her hips touching him was enough to rattle any good judgment he had left. Her upturned face was pale in the dim light, her eyes very wide and light. And her mouth—it was so very tempting.
The notion of kissing her was insane, that dim realization came a second too late, just before he gave in to the madness.
He bent his head and felt her stiffen just before his lips captured hers.
Sweet warmth. She gasped and he swallowed that sound, his eyes drifting shut as he savored her taste and scent. To his surprise, she didn’t struggle but instead stood very still against him. He could feel the arousing quiver of her body as he held her.