His eyes were soft and brimming with grief. The steely determination and despair with which he had begged for death had vanished and she realised that a trace of moisture was glinting above the thick lashes of his lower lids. Such visible pain made her want to weep for him. She covered his hand with hers and laced her fingers between his.
‘You shouldn’t be comforting me when you have lost so much,’ she murmured.
‘Why can’t we comfort each other?’ Jack asked.
Their eyes met and something bloomed in the air between them. A sense that this was right. That this was inevitable. An attraction so vibrant that it almost took on a life of its own, demanding to be acknowledged and obeyed.
‘Hold me,’ she whispered.
They moved at the same time, meeting with arms ready to embrace. Blanche wound her arms around Jack’s waist and felt him do the same back, drawing her tightly into an embrace. She rested her cheek against his chest. He smelled as sweet and earthy as she had imagined, his body warm and enticing, pressing against hers. She knew every contour of his chest from nursing him, but to feel it pushing against her, his chest rising and falling against hers as he breathed, sent warmth rushing through her, coiling hot into her belly and loins. She could feel her breasts swelling and hardening beneath her clothes. She burned to press herself closer, crush herself against him.
Shame brought heat rushing to her neck. Jack was comforting her and she should be doing the same to him, not daydreaming about tearing the clothes from his back. If only he knew what she was considering, he would be disgusted.
‘Why are you not insane with the uncertainty?’ she asked.
‘I believe I might have lost my mind if it hadn’t been for your care,’ he murmured. ‘I owe you more than I can ever repay.’
‘I haven’t been a good hostess,’ she said. ‘I was short-tempered and irritable. I saw you as an inconvenience. Will you pardon my rudeness?’
Jack stroked her hair. ‘Blanche, you have nursed me, given me shelter and food. That I am not dressed in rags or naked is thanks to your generosity. There is nothing to pardon.’
Blanche bit her lip hard, partly in guilt for the warmth with which he addressed her and partly because the thought of being naked with Jack, with nothing between his body and hers to prevent her savouring every inch of him, was overpowering.
When she raised her head, Jack’s eyes were fierce and brimming with raw, undisguised hunger. This craving was mutual. Blanche moved her leg to balance her weight and brushed against his thigh, which had somehow insinuated its way between her legs. If she shifted her hip slightly upwards, she would brush against that area men apparently had no control over and could discover for herself whether he was nearing her own state of arousal. Jack’s hands tightened in the small of her back, fingers skimming down to rest on the rounded swell of her buttocks.
Blanche parted her lips, tilting her head to the side as Jack leaned closer. She realised she was holding her breath, anticipating what was about to happen. Jack put his lips to hers with a gentle pressure, then jerked his head away, leaving only the memory of warmth. He pulled his hands away abruptly, stepping back.
‘Madame, I’m sorry! I don’t know what I was thinking to do such a thing!’
‘Don’t you?’
Blanche gave him a wry smile and took a step back before she threw herself at him and kissed him as thoroughly as she wanted to. ‘I think you know very well. I think we both do. You felt what I felt, didn’t you?’
‘I felt something I shouldn’t have,’ Jack muttered. He looked genuinely contrite and Blanche felt another twinge of guilt that she had thrown the decorum required of a hostess to the floor and ground it beneath her heel.
‘Shall we both accept that we were indiscreet?’ she suggested, a little shakily. ‘It has been a long time since anyone has held me in such a way and I forgot myself.’
‘Since your husband died,’ he said. ‘I didn’t think. It must seem strange to you.’
Blanche said nothing. He didn’t know of the men she had been with since then, but he was partly correct. It had been so long since a man had held her without negotiating terms, whether in coins or assistance promised. Jack had expected nothing in return. That had been a part of the attraction that had caught her unawares. He wanted nothing from her and she wanted nothing from him beyond what their bodies urged them to do. A man like that was dangerous to be around.
‘I think...it felt strange to me, too,’ Jack said.
‘Does that mean you have no wife waiting for you?’ Blanche asked.
He closed his eyes, shaking his head. ‘I do not know. I may be guilty of breaking my marriage vows or I may have no ties.’
Blanche laughed softly. ‘In some ways I almost envy your loss of memory. You have a rare opportunity to start your life afresh. Like a newborn babe, you have a life ahead of you with no attachments and nothing on your conscience.’
He gave a wry grin. ‘What you envy is what plagues me most. The attachments I do not remember.’
His sadness was still there, beneath the surface, but he was concealing it well. He was stronger than Blanche had given him credit for. She held her hand out to Jack, sideways as a man would shake it rather than palm down to be lifted and kissed. He took it and they shook firmly, but Blanche couldn’t prevent the frisson that shot up her arm and plunged, white hot, between her breasts.
‘I have to leave the castle for a short while,’ Blanche said. ‘I have business with a neighbour, but I will return by sunset.’
She gestured to the abandoned wood and axe.
‘Jack, you are my guest. You do not have to chop wood.’
‘I wish to work for my keep. And truthfully, I found it enjoyable to be moving and using my body after so long feeling weak and inactive.’
Jack gestured around the courtyard, then rolled his shoulders back and flexed his arms, causing the muscles in his forearms to shift and tense.
‘Then I will not stop you if you wish it,’ Blanche said with a smile. ‘There is always work to be done. You could take Bleiz Mor’s offer of employment,’ she suggested.
Jack set his jaw. ‘Honest work, madame. I believe I am an honest man. And if I wasn’t before, I intend to be now. Is there anything else I can do for you besides chopping wood?’
Blanche remembered how she had paid for her own bread on occasions since Yann died when she had needed to. There were so many things Jack could do for her and none of them involved working in the castle grounds. A reckless part of her wondered what he would say if she made the suggestion that had been made to her so many times. She felt a stab of lust low in her belly again and an aching swell of heat between her legs at the thought of Jack inside her, bringing her to the point of complete surrender. How many nights in her bed, making love to her, would he consider adequate payment for his bed and board? Her legs almost buckled at the thought.
She would like to stay and watch him and admire how his muscles moved as he hefted his axe, but left him before her cheeks flamed visibly scarlet and betrayed her scandalous thoughts.
* * *
Jack finished the logs and stacked them neatly. He put the chopper down and stood back admiring his work. The day was almost over, but the weather was far too pleasant to return to his room. He drew a long breath, filling his lungs with balmy salt air. He tried to keep himself busy. Andrey was mending fishing nets, his deft fingers moving back and forth with a bone needle Jack’s eyes could barely keep up with. He begged the older man for a lesson and, to his surprise and pleasure, Andrey agreed. They moved from the shade to catch the end of the sun and settled side by side on the bench. Jack soon discovered he had no natural ability, but persisted, determined to get the net finished before giving up.
‘Whatever you did before, it wasn’t that,’ Andrey said pleasantly. ‘The fingers don’t forget.’
Jack agreed. His animosity t
owards Andrey was beginning to diminish since their first meeting. He learned that Andrey was a cousin by marriage to Blanche and when she had been left widowed he had taken it upon himself to guard her. Despite being ten or more years older than Blanche, he was still a well-looking man whose body was hardened and whose face was tanned from a life at sea. If he hadn’t been devoted to the frightened mouse of a serving girl, Marie, Jack might have suspected he would be a possible husband for Blanche.
Servants and workers from Blanche’s village started to appear in preparation for the evening meal. They stopped to spend a few moments with Andrey, and Jack found himself gradually included in gossip and anecdotes.
Being included in a household, even slightly, made him feel warm inside. Happy, even. He started to realise his mind was healing a little, as his body already had.
The net was finished, though Jack suspected Andrey would be redoing half of Jack’s portion later.
‘I want to work to earn my keep here,’ he told Andrey. ‘I don’t know what I can do. Not net mending, I know. What does Blanche need that I could provide?’
‘That’s something you’d have to ask her,’ Andrey said, a strange look crossing his face. ‘You were offered employment and you turned it down. You didn’t want to work for Bleiz Mor.’
Jack curled his lip.
‘Blanche said that, too. I told her I want lawful work. Where is the Sea Wolf now?’ Jack asked. ‘I haven’t seen him since that day.’
Another odd look crossed Andrey’s face.
‘He’s gone for now,’ was all Andrey said. He gathered the nets and cocked his head at the sea path. ‘You might want to bathe before you dine tonight.’
Jack sniffed. It had been days since he had properly washed and the hard work had made him sweat. What must Blanche have thought of him when she ended up so unexpectedly in his embrace? He’d offered to comfort her, but that had been the last thing on his mind when he had opened his arms to her, hoping only to receive a moment’s consolation. He shivered and grew hot, reliving the sensation of her clinging to him and the lightning bolt that had speared him when their lips touched. A cold swim would be welcome.
He followed Andrey and a handful of the men to the shore and joined them in stripping bare. A momentary sense of dread filled him at the thought of stepping into the sea that had almost claimed him, but the emotion was welcome. He knew now that he wanted to live.
Andrey was watching him.
‘Do you think you could get on a boat again?’ he asked as they waded in.
Jack looked further out to sea. The thought of it made his stomach heave a little. ‘I don’t know. It depends on the size. If I want to return to England I’ll have to.’
‘The village depends on fishing,’ Andrey explained. ‘If you want to make yourself useful, you could go out on the boats.’
Jack realised with a sinking feeling that the men who took boats out to fish were most likely the same ones who caused ships to be wrecked or crewed for the Sea Wolf. He swallowed the bile that filled his throat and waded back to shore.
On his way back up the path he paused and looked towards Blanche’s window. She must know, or at least suspect, what went on around her and he didn’t like the thought that she was unable to prevent such violent behaviour. He was glad now that he had no current means to leave because the feeling of protectiveness that had begun to grow inside him was increasing each time he thought of Blanche. While he remained in her home, he would devote himself to keeping her safe.
Best to concentrate on the protectiveness, because the other emotions that stirred inside him were nowhere near as honourable or pure.
Chapter Ten
Ronec’s home was past St Petroc’s Church and the village of Plomarc’h, along the headland and set back from the sea. The distance was easily covered on horseback and Blanche arrived all too soon at his gates. His home was newer and grander than Blanche’s. It reeked of wealth and ambition and was as unwelcoming as its owner. Each time she felt qualms over her piracy, she reminded herself of the difference in their lives. She was better than Ronec was, who thought only of increasing his status among the wealthy and powerful families in the neighbourhood. What she did, only attacking ships of war, was not the same as wrecking.
It sounded increasingly hollow to her ears. She hoped the conflict would be ended soon and the French vanquished so she could leave it behind her.
Ronec was practising archery with some of his companions when Blanche was admitted to the courtyard. Ronec had never come close to assaulting her, but the night before he had been unexpectedly forceful in his suggestion that she spend the night with him. She wished she were dressed as Bleiz Mor with a sword at her waist. He was cowardly beneath the bravado and would never dream of such an assault then.
Once again she was glad Jack had intervened and strengthened her resolve to get him what he needed.
‘This is a welcome surprise, Blanche,’ Ronec said. ‘Have you come to try your hand with a bow? Would you like to hold mine?’
A couple of the other men laughed, but she silenced them with a glare. Ronec loosed his arrow, which landed slightly off the centre of the target to Blanche’s private gratification. Blanche curtsied to the men, recognising the Prévôt of Benestin, the local town. She smiled nervously. Erwan de Larrion knew of her other identity and only turned a blind eye because he was fiercely anti-Blois in sympathies. A handful of the other men had crewed White Hawk under Ronec and at least one of the men from Benestin received a share of any spoils from wrecking in order to buy his silence. Even so, Jack’s presence was not public knowledge and she intended to keep it that way.
‘I think this conversation is best conducted discreetly,’ she said to Ronec. ‘May we speak in private?’
‘Where would you like to go?’ He drew her to one side. ‘My bedchamber, perhaps,’ he whispered. ‘You’ve seen it before, after all.’
She curled her lip and ignored the taunt.
‘Perhaps here will do as well for what I wish to say,’ she said, meeting Ronec’s eye with a challenge, then flicking her attention to the Prévôt’s face. Erwan de Larrion might ignore the Sea Wolf, but he would take a dim view of wrecking. As she suspected, Ronec did not want that. He bowed to his guests.
‘Messieurs, I must bid you farewell for the time being. I hope I shall not be too long with Madame Tanet.’
He gave her a lecherous grin and held his hand out. Blanche felt distaste and her skin crawled as she took his proffered arm. She would endure his company for Jack’s sake.
‘What do you want?’ Ronec asked. ‘You’ve only come here of your own accord once before. Dare I hope it is for the same reason?’
‘You know my feelings about that,’ Blanche growled.
‘Perhaps they had better change,’ Ronec muttered darkly. ‘You have been widowed for long enough and can’t remain unmarried for ever.’
‘I will not speak to you about this now,’ she said firmly. ‘I’ve come about a different matter. There was a box brought back with the survivor on the night of the wreck. Do you have it?’
She described it. Ronec raised his eyes to the sky and pretended to think. ‘A memory stirs. Come with me and I’ll see what I can recall as we take some wine.’
He escorted her inside to a small room furnished with chairs and a small table. He bade her sit down and bellowed for a servant. She waited with growing impatience as he ordered wine and settled into the chair opposite her. He was clearly enjoying the delay, fussing with wine cups, pouring slowly and taking his time to answer.
‘A box, you say. Why do you want it? Was your share not enough for you?’
‘I took no share,’ Blanche reminded him.
‘Of course. Your principles wouldn’t allow you to benefit from such a cowardly venture, I remember.’ His voice dripped with contempt. ‘Why do you want part of my share?’
�
�You do have it?’ Blanche said, sitting forward.
He gave a supercilious smile. ‘If I did, what would be the benefit of giving it to you? Tell me why you need it.’
There was no point in prevaricating or trying to concoct a lie. The quicker she had her answer, the sooner she could leave Ronec and return home.
‘It was found beside Jack. I think it belongs to him. Whatever it contains might help restore his memory.’
Ronec’s expression grew dark.
‘You desire that man,’ Ronec muttered. ‘Would you take him as a lover? Are you hoping to gain favour with him?’
‘That is none of your business.’
It was the wrong answer, but outright denial hadn’t even occurred to her. Ronec seized her arm, pulled her roughly forward in her chair to face him.
‘It becomes my business when you are in debt to me and have been delaying payment. I have a notion to call in the debt now.’
‘You wouldn’t dare!’ she exclaimed. ‘When your guests are within earshot of my cry.’
‘Would they stop me?’ Ronec laughed. ‘Half of them look to me for leadership anyway.’
Blanche pulled her arm, but he held tighter, digging his fingers in. She ground her teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her discomfort, though fear surged through her blood at the idea he would openly assault her. She flexed her hand, preparing to rake her sharp nails down his neck and leave him with something to regret.
‘You know I want no lovers,’ Blanche said.
‘So you keep telling me,’ Ronec said. ‘I don’t know if I believe you.’
He leaned in close and put his lips to Blanche’s ear, speaking in a low voice that only she could hear.
‘You’re growing weak, Blanche. Forbidding the beacon lighting hasn’t done you any favours. There are some in the village who would gladly turn you over to the authorities. Erwan de Larrion ignores what you do, but if he sees the chance to gain favour with his superiors he would not hesitate to hand you over.’
Uncovering the Merchant's Secret Page 11