Taming Temperance

by Jillian Eaton

  The odds of Hugh Jacobson being in the tiny country village of Farmingdale were so astronomical they were not even worth considering.

  But on the slight chance he was here…

  No.

  Her mind scampered away from the appalling idea like a rabbit fleeing from the hungry jaws of a fox. Hugh was not here. He could not be here. And even if he was, she did not want to see him! Or so said her mind. Her body, on the other hand, had different ideas.

  Traitor, she thought with a disdainful glare down at her stomach as it filled with butterflies, their colorful wings anxiously stirring to life beneath the confining fabric of her chemise.

  She could not recall the last time a man had elicited such a response. And therein laid the problem. A few years ago Temperance could have allowed herself to be intrigued by the notion of a surly American, but she was no longer a flirtatious debutante without a care in the world. She had responsibilities now. Responsibilities that had come far too soon courtesy of an old scandal…and her parent’s untimely death.

  Lynette had done her best to shield her younger sisters from the harsh sting of such an unprecedented loss and the financial ruin that had quickly followed, but Temperance had always been far too perceptive for her own good.

  Not to mention nosy.

  She had seen the bank notes and the hastily scrawled letters from the debt collector’s on their father’s desk. And she had watched with both eyes wide open and her tongue tucked firmly between her teeth as their worldly possessions were sold off piece by piece.

  The past twelve months had been especially hard. Even sweet, dreamy Delilah had begun to wither beneath the strain of shouldering far too large a burden. Which was why, Temperance suspected, Lynette had agreed to marry a man who was little more than a stranger. A man she had since fallen in love with even though she did not really like him all that much.

  Nathaniel Blackbourne was not a bad person. In fact, as a brother-in-law he was rather quite generous, not to mention dashingly handsome and devilishly charming. But he and Lynette had rushed into a marriage that would have benefited from a longer courtship and they were both suffering the consequences of their impulsive actions.

  Which is why I should not be wasting a moment of my time on Hugh Jacobson, she told herself sternly. There are more important matters at hand than an American who called me a bitch!

  Although to be fair, when put into context, the insult wasn’t quite as bad as it seemed. After all, she had accused him of blindness and attempted murder when in hindsight perhaps running in front of his carriage had not been the best course of action. But it had been raining and she and Delilah had been freezing cold, not to mention completely lost. What else could she have done?

  Temperance bit her bottom lip, drawing the plump flesh between her teeth and worrying it as a dog would a bone as she felt an uncomfortable twinge of regret. Maybe she had been a bit too insolent, but then so had Hugh! Answering every question with a question, she recalled with a scowl. And the way he had stared at her in his look-behind! No man had ever looked at her like that before.

  There had been an unmistakable hunger in his dark, tortured gaze. Almost as if he were starving...and she were a bright, shiny apple he could not wait to sink his teeth into.

  “Over there.” Completely oblivious to Temperance’s conflicted emotions, Annabel pointed cheerfully at a long line of colorful tents where various vendors had put their wares on display. “The blue one in the middle. The man who sold it to me was quite nice.” Her even white teeth flashed in the dappled sunlight. “Handsome, too. And an American!”

  Temperance’s heart gave an extra lurch inside of her chest. Then Hugh was here. Unless there was another American selling look-behinds, which she sincerely doubted.

  It does not matter. He means nothing to you. Don’t you dare–

  “I will be right back.”

  Drats.

  It was bad enough she never took anyone else’s advice.

  Why in heaven’s name could she not take her own?

  Picking up her skirts to avoid dirtying the hem on the dusty ground, Temperance ducked nimbly into the crowd. Dimly she heard Lynette calling her name, but her sister’s voice was quickly lost. Fixing her gaze in the direction Annabel had pointed she began to march determinedly towards the tents. Given the sheer number of people crowded into the small village square, however, getting from one point to another was easier said than done.

  In addition to the farmers and merchants trying to earn a bit of extra coin before winter sank its icy fingers into the countryside there were also acrobats, dancers, and even a few trick riders on horseback. Young children dressed in white wove orange silk ribbons around a tall pole in the middle of the square while a group of traveling musicians set up on the far side of it, playing random notes as they struggled to tune their violins amidst the chaos and mayhem.

  Turning sideways in order to squeeze between two men balancing precariously on wooden stilts, Temperance was both short of breath and patience by the time she reached the line of tents. Slanting a hand across her brow to block the sun from her eyes - she’d lost her bonnet within the first ten minutes of arriving at the festival - she hurried down the row, passing tables filled with everything from pretty silk scarves imported from India to pear-shaped gourds.

  A faint breeze stirred the banners and flags tied to the tops of the tents, but close to the ground the air was sweltering hot from the press of so many bodies and soon sweat began to trickle between Temperance’s breasts and down the narrow space between her shoulder blades, making her squirm in discomfort as she fought her way through the crowd. Biting down hard on the inside of her cheek, she yanked off a thin white glove and used it to dab at the perspiration glistening on her temple as she continued to search for Hugh amidst the bustling village square.

  If someone were to ask her why she was so determined to find the enigmatic American, she didn’t know if she would have an answer. At least not one that made any sense. The truth was that ever since they’d met (when he’d nearly run her over in his carriage and she’d ended up flat on her back in a mud puddle) it had been nigh on impossible to get him out of her head. Even with everything else going on - the sudden move to the country, Lynette’s impromptu wedding, and their new furry family member Mr. Humphrey, a little dog with a rather large attitude - her thoughts had never strayed very far from Hugh Jacobson.

  It wasn’t because she liked him, Temperance assured herself hurriedly as she ducked to the left in order to avoid being thwacked over the head by a man juggling four skittles. Quite the opposite, in fact. And she did not even want to see him again. Not really. In fact, she could easily go an entire lifetime without ever gazing into his blue eyes or admiring the width of his shoulders or the way he had–

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Standing in front of a narrow tent with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed, Hugh stared at Temperance as though she were an irksome gnat he’d thought he had squished only to discover he hadn’t quite finished the job.

  With his legs braced apart and his thighs bulging beneath the tan fabric of his trousers he looked more like a giant than a man. His shoulder-length hair was tied back in a knot and his face was cleanly shaven, revealing a square chin and a full mouth curled in disapproval. He had a heavy brow that extended over his eyes, giving him a perpetual scowl. His features were dark and heavy set; the sort one envisioned when they imagined a villain.

  A smile might have lightened his countenance, but as Temperance gazed up at him she doubted he’d ever worn a smile a day in his life. “What am I doing here?” Skirting around a man pushing a cart filled to the brim with apples, she squared off in front of Hugh and crossed her arms, refusing to let herself be intimidated by his surly demeanor. He was like a grumpy old dog, and like most grumpy old dog’s his bark was far worse than his bite.

  Or so she hoped.

  “I happen to live right down the road, not that it is any of your business. What are you doing
here?”

  “This is a merchant’s fair and I am a merchant.” He glanced behind him at his tent. Though smaller than many of the others, it was packed to the gills with the same random assortment of things he had been carrying around in his carriage on the day they’d met. Never in all of her life had Temperance seen such an odd collection of belongings. There had been so many things she and Delilah had barely fit! And yet he’d struck her as more of a traveling gypsy than a merchant. As a general rule, merchants actually had to be nice to their clientele.

  And Hugh was anything but nice.

  “Oh is that what you are?” she said sweetly. “I rather thought you were just a collector of useless junk.”

  Temperance did not know why she felt the need to antagonize Hugh. No doubt it would have been best to leave well enough alone, but she so did love the way his eyes flashed and his jaw clenched when he was annoyed. It posed a delightful challenge. How much could she poke the bear before the bear poked back?

  “Are you going to buy something?” he growled. “If not you can damn well turn right around.”

  “Oh, I believe I shall have a quick look.” Ignoring his fierce scowl, she stepped neatly past him and into the tent.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Sun filtered in through the thin walls of the tent, giving everything a bluish tint. As Temperance looked around she saw porcelain bowls paired with feathered hats and mismatched utensils sticking out of a tea kettle. There were clothes of all sizes hanging from a string and entire bureau filled with hats. A mannequin stared sightlessly out from one corner, her slender neck adorned with a bright red scarf. Nothing was priced, and yet despite the lack of organization the tent had an undeniable sort of charm.

  Unlike its owner.

  “Touch it and you buy it,” Hugh threatened from the doorway, his eyes dark with suspicion as he tracked her every movement.

  Temperance glanced at him over her shoulder and lifted one brow. “Tell me, has your courteous attitude gained you many customers? I thought not,” she said when he remained stiff and silent. “Having things to sell does not make a man a merchant any more than putting steel shoes on a stallion makes him a racehorse. One does not automatically equal the other.” As she lightly ran her fingertips across the lip of a blue china bowl she could all but hear his teeth grinding together.

  “What are you doing here?” he gritted out.

  “Doing here?” Feigning ignorance with wide eyes and a bemused crease across the middle of her temple, Temperance said, “I thought it was rather obvious. I am shopping, Mr. Jacobson.”

  “You remember my name.” He stepped into the tent and Temperance felt her heart give a tiny stutter of alarm when he slid the flap closed behind him, effectively sealing them in to the small space. Fortunately, she was not a woman who rattled easily, and when she spoke her voice was calm and collected despite the quivering butterflies in her belly.

  “But of course,” she said smoothly. “You are not an easy man to forget, Mr. Jacobson.”

  A lock of dark hair fell across his protruding brow as his head canted to one side. “And why is that?”

  “A simple reason, really.” Emboldened by the table between them, she allowed herself to say the words that had been rattling around in her head ever since they’d parted ways and he had gotten the better of her. If there was a reason Temperance had sought him out, then this was surely it. She was not someone accustomed to having the last word stolen from her, and when Hugh had done precisely that it had left a bitter taste in her mouth she’d been unable to wash out. “I have never met anyone so incredibly rude and vulgar, not to mention blind!”

  “Blind?” The large hands he had crossed over his chest curled into fists. “You stepped in front of my carriage. If anyone is the blind one, it’s damn well you!”

  Her nostrils flared as she sucked in an outraged breath. “For the last time, I was only trying to get your attention! If you had not been driving like a madman–”

  “A madman? My horse was trotting!” His eyes narrowed. “But had I known what was waiting for me around the bend I would have encouraged a gallop,” he added darkly.

  “Oh!” Temperance gasped. “And to think my sister was actually grateful for your assistance. You, Mr. Jacobson, are the definition of a cad!” Without thinking, she stepped around the edge of the table and closed the distance between them. Cheeks flush with rising temper she jabbed a finger at his chest. “I suggest you pack up shop and march yourself straight back to America, for we surely do not want you here.”

  “Enough,” he growled, cold blue eyes flashing with warning.

  But Temperance, having warmed to her cause – and itching for a fight – was only getting started. “Unless,” she continued as the tip of her finger made contact with a round black button on his waistcoat, “no one wants you there, which is why you came here.”

  “I said enough.” Moving with a speed of a dark, dangerous panther Hugh shackled her against his broad frame with one hand while the other cupped the nape of her neck, fingers squeezing into soft, sensitive flesh. “Others may stand for your childish insults, but I am not one of them.”

  Helpless as a mouse in the claws of a cat Temperance stared silently up at her captor. His tight grip did not hurt, but it easily could have, and the knowledge that she was completely at his mercy was as unnerving as it was secretly arousing. She had grown too accustomed to men who acted more like stuttering debutantes than warriors of old. Men who stumbled over themselves trying to give her what she wanted instead of what she needed.

  What she needed was a man whose will was just as strong as her own. What she needed was a man who had the bollocks to stand up to her.

  Precisely like Hugh was doing now.

  Temperance may not have wanted the stubborn jackass glaring daggers down at her, but she did need him, if only as a distraction from everything else going on in her life.

  The death of her parents.

  Lynette’s whirlwind marriage.

  The sudden move to the country.

  How out of control those things made her feel! Out of control and desperate to take charge of her own fate for once.

  Even if that fate involved a brooding, foul-tempered American.

  Hugh was everything Temperance had been taught to stay away from. He was too undisciplined. Too unpredictable. Too savage. And yet those traits which should have repelled her only served to pique her interest…and her attraction.

  “What are you going to do?” she taunted with a sneer. “Strike me?”

  The hand on her neck tightened. “No. I do not hit women.”

  “Then what?” Temperance was not wantonly promiscuous, although she did know how to use her body to its full advantage. Hugh was not the first man she had contemplated kissing, nor would he be the last. Propriety and good manners had their time and their place, but inside a tent – and in the arms of a man who made her blood heat – was not one of them. Rising up on her toes, she purposefully leaned forward until she felt her bodice brush against his waistcoat. The intimate contact elicited a gasp from her lips…and a growl from his.

  “What are you doing?” he rasped.

  A smile curved her mouth. “Testing a theory.”

  “You are playing with fire.”

  She tilted her face back. Wet her bottom lip with a slow, sinuous slide of her tongue that Hugh tracked with his gaze before his eyes lifted, revealing pupils dilated with desire. He may not want me either, Temperance thought with a tiny thrill of dark satisfaction. But he needs me just as much as I need him.

  “Then why don’t you burn me?” she whispered as she met his fierce stare.

  It was all the invitation Hugh needed. Muttering something that sounded suspiciously like ‘the hell with wit’ he brought his mouth crashing down on top of hers.

  It was not a soft kiss, but Temperance did not want soft.

  What she wanted was unbridled passion…and that was precisely what she received.

  Hugh dragged her forceful
ly against his chest, trapping her between his muscular thighs. Heat radiated off his body in waves, searing Temperance’s flesh. The rugged hardness of his frame was a welcome delight after touching the soft, flabby paunches of men whose only form of exercise came from waltzing around a ballroom floor and she clung to him with abandon, fingers sinking into the thick curls that framed his broad shoulders.

  He deepened the kiss, angling his head so they fit together like two puzzle pieces clicking into place. Temperance moaned when he captured her bottom lip between his teeth and delivered a sharp, teasing nip. Moaned again when he soothed the bite with a slow lick of his tongue.

  The combination of pain and pleasure made her knees wobble and were Hugh not holding her so tightly against him she would have crumpled into a heap then and there, burned from the inside out.

  Never in all her of her life had she tasted such passion.

  Never in all of her life had she known such passion even existed.

  It was like feeling fire for the first time and the temptation to step into the smoldering blaze was too great to resist.

  Her nails dug furrows into the nape of his neck as she arched against him, pressing her tingling breasts against his ribs. Dragging her mouth free she skimmed her lips across the rigid line of his jaw, following it up to his earlobe. When she drew the sensitive flesh between her teeth and suckled he growled like a wild animal, hips bucking in a raw display of carnal need.

  “Witch.” He hissed the insult even as he reclaimed her mouth, driving his tongue between her lips. His hands skimmed down her spine and cupped her bottom, dragging her forcefully against his loins. She gave in to the pressure without protest as the fire building inside of her exploded in a burst of white hot flame.

  More.

  She needed more.

  But before she could take what she wanted Hugh ended the kiss with an abruptness that left her stunned and breathless. Dragging the back of his hand across his mouth as though trying to erase the taste of her from his lips he stepped back.