“Aye, and ’tis best we forget such matters. I will if you will.”
“I will not. For how can I ever forget the kisses burned into my memory?” Jeffrey said in a husky voice. “They leave me craving more.”
Placing his hands on either side of her, effectively trapping her within those solid arms, he claimed her mouth. She made a weak sound of protest. Her eyes fluttered shut as he cupped her cheek. His kiss was so soft, gentle and unhurried, she capitulated. Jeffrey would not hurt her. Surely one minute more with this lovely sensation would not harm. She pressed her palms against his broad shoulders.
When Jeffrey pulled back, she opened her eyes. Still cupping her cheeks, he looked down at her. “Mandy, you are so beautiful, ’tis like kissing a dream when my lips meet yours.”
Pulling her into his arms, he swung her around and kissed her again. She hated herself for the reaction he inspired. Why could he not be William, all onion breath and greedy panting? Why did Jeffrey master her body as if it were a violin and he a musician who could pluck the strings, persuading it to play?
Her body sang in harmony to his sonorous melody. With a gentle tug, he pulled off her lace cap. Jeffrey fingered a lock escaping her tightly pinned hair. Dazed by rising passion, Amanda pushed away all doubts. Safe daylight. No harm in a kiss. No shame in an innocent embrace. Warmth flooded her, bathed her overly sensitive skin. Amanda slid her hands along Jeffrey’s toned forearms. A man’s arms, accustomed to forging iron. Yet despite his strength, he was so gentle with her.
As they kissed, he moved her backwards until her knees hit the back of the bed. Absorbed in his mouth moving over hers, she barely noticed. His kiss deepened. The sweet melody became an urgent rhapsody as he drank in her mouth. Warmth surged in her blood, pooling in her loins. Moaning, she clung to him as his tongue tangled with hers. And then he leaned forward and she fell backwards upon the bed, Jeffrey falling atop her.
Levering his muscled body off her, he sat back on his haunches. Jeffrey ran a calloused thumb across her kiss-swollen lips. With a muttered oath, he fumbled at her bodice ribbons, trying to untie them. Horrified, Amanda caught his wrist. It felt like gripping iron. A wicked gleam lit his eyes.
“Do you not want this, Mandy?” Without waiting for her answer, he kissed her again and nipped her bottom lip.
“More,” she said in a breathless whisper when they broke apart.
Jeffrey smiled. He yanked at the ribbons and underlying stays. Amanda sighed as her breasts came unbound. Her hands curled around his neck.
“Kiss me again, Jeffrey.”
“My pleasure, my lady.”
His mouth met hers, tongues tangling together in a sweet duet. Then he nuzzled her neck and kissed the sensitive spot below her ear. Delicious heat curled up her spine. Amanda writhed beneath him. She didn’t know what this was, what she wanted, only that she yearned for more.
Amanda arched upward as he trailed a light line of kisses down her neck, then lightly pressed his lips to the halves of her breasts swelling above her bodice. Her breath came in quick, rapid pants.
“Shall I stop?” he whispered into her ear.
“Nay, do not stop,” she cried out.
A hesitant cough interrupted her bliss. Amanda turned, half dazed from the heat of Jeffrey’s intimate caresses. In the doorway of the room, Mr. James Southall, owner and proprietor of the Raleigh, stood staring. A flush colored his rotund cheeks as if the gentleman had imbibed his establishment’s liquor.
“I beg your pardon, Jeffrey, didn’t know you had company.” The man squinted. “Why, is it Miss Amanda Reeves?”
Horrified, Amanda turned away. Jeffrey stood if he had nary a care in the world, leaving her exposed on the bed, her bodice gaping open like a wound.
“Good day to you, Miss Reeves,” Mr. Southall said in a grave tone. He marched off, shoes thumping against the pine floor.
Jeffrey stood above her, arms folded across his chest. Bloody fool she was! Caught in the very throes of torrid passion! Amanda groped for her unlaced bodice. Mortified, she realized the picture presented to Mr. Southall. She’d been caught in the very same position back in London. Fumbling with her bodice’s loose ribbons, Amanda scrambled off the bed and looked at Jeffrey’s satisfied expression.
He knew, the brigand. He knew exactly how damaging Mr. Southall’s observance had been. And he’d enjoyed every moment.
Jeffrey leaned against the wall, relishing the winning card held tightly in his hand. James had executed his timing perfectly. He had met the tavern owner downstairs, explained his predicament and his suspicions of Amanda. James, a fervent patriot, graciously agreed to participate in the little drama. Fifteen minutes to confront Amanda, sweep her into his arms and set her up for the inevitable.
Right on time, James had marched through his open doorway. The tavern owner became a witness to a bit of morning naughtiness.
Her swollen, reddened mouth gaped open. He felt a ridiculous inclination to reach up and shut it with one finger.
His own body ached. Amanda had sucked the very breath from him. Jeffrey steeled himself against a rising desire to tumble her on his bed and finish what they’d started.
Time enough later for that conquest. He smiled gently down at her mortified expression.
“Caught in the act,” he said, tapping her pert nose to each syllable.
“Bloody hell!” she swore. “’Tis your fault, you brigand!”
What a feisty mouth! Jeffrey felt a hard urge to kiss it again. He chuckled. “Amanda, I hardly performed the act by myself. I recall you were a most willing participant.”
Her eyes crackled with violet fire.
“You put me in this predicament, Jeffrey!” She laced up her bodice.
Amanda crossed the room to the mirror and stared stonily at her reflection as she removed pins and unfurled the tangled bun. Shimmering curls spilled down in a fiery cloud past her waist. Jeffrey watched with dawning hunger. His hands itched to rake through the luxuriant masses and feel the silk slide through his fingers. Amanda finger combed her hair, then yanked the strands with a vicious twist and bound it into a secure knot. She snatched her cap off the floor and covered her hair. Disappointment surged through him.
What would those rose gold tresses look like spread upon his pillow? He closed his eyes and imagined caressing her soft cheek, then touching that glorious hair, feeling its silky texture. Her amber beauty, unveiled for him and him alone.
“You are a heartless cad to take advantage of me!”
His eyes flew open. Struggling to control his desire, Jeffrey gave her a cool look. “Should you expect less of a man when you prance about his room uninvited? You did not ask me to stop. Indeed, you seemed most willing.”
Cheeks sprouted two rose pink blossoms. So lovely. And angry.
“Surely James could see that as well.”
Color drained from her face. “He will not.”
“James is no tale bearer. But should he tell one or two in this place.” Jeffrey glanced at the open doorway. James had promised to keep their secret quiet. He’d no more tell a living soul, not even his wife, than he’d walk down Duke of Gloucester Street without his breeches.
Naturally, Jeffrey had no intention of sharing this with Amanda. On the contrary...
“By the morrow, all of Williamsburg should know what transpired here.”
Her composure crumbled. He felt a rush of pity.
“The Raleigh is the best place to get news and exchange gossip,” he reminded her.
“Nay, ’tis not so. Cannot be,” she whispered, crossing her hands over her bodice.
“I can hear the tongues wagging now. In the taverns. On market square. In church. Miss Amanda Reeves, caught in a state of half-dress with Mr. Jeffrey Clayton. A young maid in such an indecent act. Shameful. She was a lovely girl, but now her marriage chances are ruined. More’s the pity.”
Trembling, Amanda craned her neck toward the window as if hearing church bells ring out the news. Miss Amanda Reeves is
ruined! Panic creased her brow.
He walked behind her and traced a finger down her spine, stroking her gown’s soft fabric, wishing he stroked her bare skin. She arched, like a cat under a tender caress, then with a startled cry, jerked away.
“Brigand,” she whispered.
“Such a passionate nature, that Miss Amanda Reeves. Shocking. Disgraceful. What will the good gentry of Williamsburg think? Mrs. Wythe, how disappointed she will be? What will Mrs. Peyton Randolph say now of the gentle, proper Amanda?”
Jeffrey circled around her, facing Amanda, hating the stark terror darkening her face. Yet he must do this. He could not trust her. Let her walk away and he risked not only himself, but Patrick as well. Perhaps even his “friend.” He didn’t know what other papers she had seen in his private chest. Dunmore hated Patrick. All he needed was good solid information and Patrick might be bound in chains, on a ship heading for England and on trial for treason.
“Jeffrey, you cannot...” Amanda backed toward the open door.
He rubbed the back of his tightening neck. “Nay, not me. Mr. Southall. Lovely Amanda, her reputation ruined. Disgraced. Seen in a gentleman’s room in his embrace.”
“Please, there must be some way of preventing Mr. Southall from spreading this news,” she pled, wringing her hands. Her pitiful plea kicked him in the stomach.
“I think not, Amanda. You and I both know that,” he said softly.
One hand touched her lips. “Please, Jeffrey.”
“But there is one other remedy. A solution to our mutual problem, if you will. One thing you can do to save your reputation.”
Wild hope lit her eyes. “Aye? Aye, name it and I shall try to remedy the situation.”
“Marry me.”
Chapter Thirteen
IF HE HAD slapped her, Jeffrey could not have shocked her more. “Marry you?”
Marry a radical, a brigand, her country’s enemy? Open-mouthed, she stared at him. Thoughts of a ruined reputation and her parents’ severe disappointment faded, replaced by stunned disbelief. Marry him! A host of disturbing feelings drummed upon her raw nerves. Shock. Anger. And worst, pleasure.
“Aye, marry me.” His expression softened.
“’Tis blackmail, sir! You would force me to marry you or let my reputation go tarnished! When you were the one blackening it!”
Jeffrey flashed his charming, lopsided grin. “Call it what you will, my dear Mandy. Think of it as a business arrangement. You thought to snoop into my business. And tied my hands as a result. Do you truly think I would let you out of my sight to run back to your cousin?”
“But I would not...”
His gaze darkened again. “Do not lie to me. We both know, even with your noblest intentions, Dunmore would hound you for what information you gained.”
“I cannot marry you!”
He thrust his hands on his hips. “Why not? Have you a husband you hide?”
“Nay, of course not,” she shot back impatiently.
“Then you are two and twenty, of eligible age, a maiden and free to take a husband.”
“Jeffrey, you do not wish to marry me! Why would it appeal to you?”
Now her breath quickened into ragged pants as he stroked her cheek with his fingers. “You do yourself a disservice. You are quite lovely and very desirable. Marriage appeals to me. I’m growing older. I’ve a great yearning for children of my own. I’ve seen your gentle manner with Miles and Sara. And,” his gaze rested pointedly on her abdomen, “you look to be a healthy women who could give me many fine sons.”
Anger snaked through her. “’Tis a bold assumption you make, to think I would consent to marrying you and producing children with you.”
“You have no choice. Unless you wish to have the town gossips chatter about you for months.”
“And what makes you think marriage will be your remedy? That I will not turn on you? That our good Lord Dunmore will not use me, his loyal subject, to have you arrested for treason?”
Jeffrey gave her a pitying smile. “Nay, he cannot if we marry. You are useless to him then. For you will be my wife, and subject to a new lord and master. Me. The law recognizes it as such.”
With dawning horror, Amanda realized he told the truth. When married, society and the law considered her and her husband as one person under common law. She could not give testimony against her husband. Any evidence she had against him would be rendered useless.
The laws were made to favor men, she thought bitterly. Colonists bellowing they had the right to govern themselves did not extend the same privilege to women.
Watching his smug grin, she realized he’d devised a brilliant solution. Jeffrey could imprison her reputation or imprison her as his wife. Bound forever as his mate, and legally bound to live with him, bear his children, and submit to his demands in bed. Amanda controlled her anger, and summoned a beseeching look. Perhaps she could still reason with him.
“Jeffrey, please, there must be another way.”
Encircling her hand with his own, he lifted it to his lips. His kiss burned with torrid heat. “Nay, I cannot trust you now, Mandy. ’Tis only when you are legally wed to me that I may accord some measure of that.”
Shoulders sagging, she shook her head, thinking of the almshouse. “I cannot marry you. ’Tis not a choice I am free to make.”
“Is that what you told Lord Dunmore when you agreed to spy on me? What does Dunmore hold over you? Your father’s debt?”
At her outraged expression he added, “’Tis a matter of common knowledge, for he owes the Raleigh alone some fifty pounds. And all know how Dunmore financed his ship and store.”
“My parents set me to it. He agreed to dismiss all debts against my father if I spied upon you,” she muttered.
“Then I shall remedy that. Marry me and I’ll pay all your father’s debts.”
“You? With what?”
“I have some small savings.”
“My father owes Lord Dunmore 150 pounds sterling. With the debt at the Raleigh, the total is 200 pounds. Your annual wages as a blacksmith could cover nary one-quarter of that.”
“True,” he agreed. “I’ll use my own money from my Boston business. It will hardly create a dent in that account.”
“Your Boston business? What business?” she demanded. He gave an indifferent shrug.
“Three blacksmith shops my uncle and I own. Quite profitable. Or some land in Virginia I can sell. A few acres will cover my losses.”
Realization dawned on her. “Exactly how much land do you own?”
“In Virginia?” He cocked his head, considering. “A tidewater plantation of some 2,000 acres, now leased out to a farmer and his family. They grow tobacco, corn and wheat. Turned a nice profit last year with crops. Oh, and some to the southwest, near the North Carolina border. About 6,000 acres there. The Massachusetts farm has only 1,000 acres.”
Nine thousand acres of land, a working plantation and ownership of three Boston businesses. Amanda gaped at him. Enough money to pay her father’s debt without blinking an eye. Gentleman farmer, bloody hell. He was a land baron!
“So you see Mandy, you have no reason not to marry me. I’ve more than enough means to support you. You have every reason to be my bride.”
Filled with hopeless resignation, Amanda shrugged. “Then do what you will. Aye, I will marry you, only to save my parents from further shame.”
She drew in a deep breath. “But know this. It will be a mockery of a marriage. A false victory for you, Jeffrey. I am still His Majesty’s loyal subject and will never consort with your seditious views. Claim what rights you will. You will never claim my heart.”
Pained regret flickered in his gaze, then his expression shuttered. Jeffrey pulled her into his arms.
“’Tis not your heart claiming my interest.” He lowered his mouth. Amanda struggled in his embrace, whimpering as he kissed her with a gentle possessiveness as if he’d already won the rights to her body. Heat curled deep in her lower belly and loins. Jef
frey released her.
“I shall wait, dear Mandy, for the rest of what is due to me ’til we are man and wife,” he murmured, lifting her hand and grazing her knuckles with those treacherous lips.
His gaze flicked to the window. “Best we be on our way now. ’Tis a long drive to Hanover. Will have to stop on the way to overnight.”
“On our way? Jeffrey, I cannot wed you right now.”
Jeffrey’s eyes blazed. “I have no intention of letting you go and having your cousin stop us. We’ll marry in Hanover in private, far from meddling relatives. Pat’s uncle is a preacher. No need for banns. I’ll post the marriage bond and we shall be man and wife.”
“My clothing...”
“I’ll send Jake to your house for a trunk. With the excuse you’re to spend some days with us at Evergreen. Since your parents still think you spy on me, they will agree.”
Mortified, she realized his exceedingly well-orchestrated schedule meant he had planned this all along. His confident air indicated he knew she’d capitulate. She’d marched into his arms and he’d ruthlessly used her affections to take her prisoner.
In a few days, she’d be his wife. And there would be no turning back.
Chapter Fourteen
NO GRAND WEDDING with distinguished guests, hours of feasting and dancing, or crystal tiers of sweetmeats and tables laden with rich roasted meats and sparkling red wine.
For a dowry, Jeffrey received her silence. Her wedding gown was the freshly laundered yellow silk embroidered with blue iris. Jeffrey had requested she wear it, for it had special meaning for him. For her, it felt like wearing a shroud. The church was a small parish and the minister an elderly, but kind preacher related to one of her country’s worst enemies. Witnessing the blessed event was the enemy himself, the esteemed Patrick Henry. He had sallow cheeks, deep-set fierce blue eyes and a stooped manner. But his smile sparkled upon seeing Jeffrey and he treated her with utmost kindness.
“Jeffrey, ’tis a fine day when I can host an elopement for you. You are far more romantic than I gave you credit for, my friend!” he had fervently enthused.
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