by Anthology
He shivered.
Not Jackson.
Not now.
Not ever.
“You appear pale,” Came Lucas’s voice from the right.” Would it be the youngest sister in question? The same one glaring at you with such spite I nearly ducked behind the pillar?”
Jackson rolled his eyes. “Hardly, though it does make one feel leery, the way she keeps standing next to the fire. Does she have no respect for the elements?”
Lucas eyed him up and down, his gaze lingering on the singed waistcoat. “I imagine not.”
Cursing, Jackson tossed back the rest of his mulled wine and straightened his posture. “She’s a danger to society.”
Lucas frowned. “She looks innocent enough to me.”
As if on cue, the bloody woman dipped into a low curtsy reserved for royalty then laughed heartily at something a male guest said. Her blonde curls bounced against her porcelain cheeks.
There was danger in beauty.
And she was simply the most beautiful creature his eyes had ever beheld. Not that it made a lick of difference.
They were at odds.
Two mismatched puzzle pieces that refused to go together.
Oil and water.
Fire and—
“Damn it Jackson, stare any harder and it will be you setting her on fire. Why can’t you just let things lie?”
Jackson gave his brother a dumbfounded look. “She set me on fire.” He explained in a desperate voice. “Twice!”
Lucas chuckled.
“She locked me out of the house two days past. I nearly froze to death!”
“It was hardly freezing outside.”
“Snow!” Jackson sputtered. “At least two flakes on my right cheek. I had proof! And what does she do? She laughs!”
“Women tend to do that, laugh.”
“And then…” Jackson completely ignored his brother’s amused tone. “…During the maze when I tried to help her with the last clue she accused me of putting mice in her room—”
“You did put mice in her room.”
“But she blamed me straight away. Me! As if the fault was entirely placed on my shoulders.”
“It was.”
“Was not!” Jackson sighed and pressed a finger to his temple. “I simply made you aware that the girls were terrified of rodents and took it upon my hands to acquire some.”
“Right,” Lucas said dryly.
“What the devil are you two discussing so loudly?” Hugh’s booming voice nearly sent Jackson directly into a candle he missed it by a good inch but started sweating nonetheless.
Hugh grabbed him by the jacket and tugged him to safety.”What is this attraction to fire you have?”
Jackson chose not to respond.
Instead he crossed his arms and pouted.
Yes, pouted.
At five and twenty he was pouting in the middle of a ballroom, where tons of available ladies laid in wait for him to crook his pinky finger in their direction.
But he didn’t want them.
He wasn’t sure what he wanted.
Other than for things to go back to the way they were.
To return to Town with both of his brothers in tow, sans two-sisters- in-law and an annoying little harpy.
Lucas and Hugh began mindless chatter about the following morning — Christmas.
And what then?
What about the after?
No one ever thought about the after.
After the kiss.
After she says yes.
The ramifications of one’s actions were never thought of in the moment, and if they were, it was almost always a fleeting thought.
And that’s where Jackson was different.
He based his life on the after.
It was how he’d survived so long.
He was good at the after.
After I kiss you, I shall bid you goodnight.
After I make love to you, we shall go our separate ways, but we will always have this moment!
After I bloody set you on fire, we shall be enemies forever.
Yes… He glared at Sara across the room. He was good with afters, because a long time ago, he’d been obsessed with befores.
Time had been measured and kept by befores.
Before Sara, life had not existed.
Before Sara, time had merely passed without any sort of feeling or emotion.
Hell, if he were being honest, he now lived his life based on because.
Because of Sara and the Bright sisters, he was losing his brothers.
Because of Sara, he had to get a new waistcoat and everyone knew that Jackson had an unhealthy obsession with waistcoats — it was like she’d known this was his favorite.
Because of Sara — life was now full of afters he could not prepare for.
Damn her.
Damn afters.
Bloody because.
“I need another drink,” he grumbled walking away from his brothers and in the general direction of sustenance, after all, it was going to be a long night and an even longer Christmas. They still had two days left.
And he meant to make the best of it.
Which meant, he’d most likely be foxed during every waking hour.
CHAPTER TWO
WRONG! EVERYTHING WAS SO completely wrong. Sara had half a mind to burn the entire house down. First Meredith and now Louisa? Whatever happened to family sticking together?
Her sisters had somehow managed to do exactly the opposite of what they’d sworn they would do.
Which was fall for the most rotten creatures on God’s green earth! The frog brothers, as she’d always so eloquently addressed them, were nothing but wolves in sheep’s clothing!
And she knew all about wolves.
For one was staring her down at that very second, most likely assuming she’d fall in her sisters footsteps, blindly marching towards the beat of matrimony as she cheerfully accepted his kiss, as all the while he made moon eyes at every available female within a bloody mile!
Her heart clenched uncomfortably in her chest, she rubbed the spot, the sore spot that seemed to only resurface when Jack gave her attention, almost as if he knew the effect he had on her. Preying on her weak, delicate sensibilities, her dreams of love, her dreams of falling for a man who saw through her happy façade and was willing to do bring her to heel.
Because if she was being truly honest…
That was the issue.
No man dared challenge her.
They thought her delightful! Refreshing! A diverting beautiful woman who not only spoke her mind, but did so with such grace and ease that she would make any a man proud.
Save one.
And he’d let her know it on several occasions.
Many men might desire her.
But Jack only wanted her because she was the only woman who had ever said no.
The soreness intensified.
Ridiculous! That three years ago she’d thought herself in love with him and he with her, only to discover him, not one week later, in the arms of another.
Dratted, horrible man!
Sara glared at him across the room, her fingers slowly imprinting themselves around the stem of her glass as she imagined strangling his pretty little neck. Goodness, her thoughts had been dark as of late, and it was his fault.
It was always Jack’s fault.
Even the fire, though he refused to admit it.
To think! She’d trusted him again, fallen for the charm, the sweet spell of his hypnotic words, and sensual smile. They’d recognized desperation in one another, and set about partnering up to make sure that their parents never again put them under the same roof.
All hell, by all means, should have broken loose.
Instead, it seemed Cupid had made a visit instead of Saint Nicholas.
“Careful,” came Meredith’s cheerful voice.”You’re one more squeeze away from shattering your glass.”
Sara loosened her grip around the crystal and took a
deep inhale, the scent of pine and cinnamon danced around her face.
She’d always loved Christmas.
Until him.
Naturally, her eyes were drawn back to his perfect form, why must he be so attractive? His waistcoat was a dark purple velvet, he should look like a complete fop. Instead the smooth lines merely accentuated his lithe body, strong thighs. A perfect curl of dark blond hair fell across his forehead, two dimples spread across his smooth cheeks as he laughed at something his eldest brother said.
“Sara?”
Drat! “Hmm?”
“If you mean to kill him with your mind, you’re doing a fantastic job, I imagine he’ll go up in flames any moment now.”
As if on cue, he almost fell into the nearby candle.
“Huh, I must be more powerful than I thought.” She grinned.
“Lord help us all,” Meredith grumbled. “When will you cease this fighting and just admit that you care for the young man?”
“Care?” Sara repeated with a laugh. “Care?”
“Said that.”
“Care!” she stated the word again. “I care for the mice he set loose in my room more than I care for him! At least he won’t—”
Meredith’s face softened.
Sara managed a weak smile as part of her armor managed to figuratively clang to the floor. If Jackson were to come upon her, his barbs would aim true, straight for the ridiculous sore spot taking residence where her heart continued to thump, reminding her that yes, even though it was painful, she was still very much alive.
“More cider,” she managed to choke out as she forced a smile across her face and moved swiftly around the edge of the dancing couples.
The minute she reached the table, a shadow cast over her hand.
A very, familiar, sensual, shadow.
“Curls…” The voice held mild amusement. “What are you about?”
“Spiking the cider,” she said in a confident voice. “Though I imagine you’ve already done so by looking at your flushed face.”
“And how would you know my face is flushed?” Jack pressed a hand to the small of her back. The delicious pressure reminded her of the danger behind having him so near, yet she didn’t have the heart to pull away, not yet at least.
With a sigh she turned and faced him. “It’s really quite simple. I was imagining all the ways I could strangle you with my bed sheets, and, unfortunately, I knew if I didn’t at least measure your neck with my hands I’d tie the knots all wrong, and then where would we be?”
“Alive.” His eyes widened in horror. “Dear God, was setting me on fire not enough for your sick amusement?”
She was barely able to hold her laughter in. “Oh, Jack.” She brushed off his right shoulder. “Still upset about getting soot on your favorite waistcoat? You do realize you could have jumped in the pond.”
His eyes narrowed. “It was frozen.”
“Was it?”
“Yes, as you damned well know since you pushed me into it shortly after you set me on fire.”
“You’ll forgive me if the memory’s fuzzy, I was quite traumatized. Gracious, I nearly swooned when you started screaming like a little girl.”
“I did not.” He raised his voice, then pinched his nose and seemed to count out loud to three. “I merely yelled.”
“Shocking, that you’re still able to speak after all that…” She paused adding with a menacing smile. “…yelling.”
“And to think.” Jack tilted his head, his icy blue eyes flashing. “I walked all this distance to offer up a truce.”
She peered around him. “My, my, you must be parched. What is it? Thirty paces from the second potted plant you were seducing with your drunken banter?”
“Yes.” Jack nodded, stealing the cider directly from her outstretched hand. “Parched.” He tossed it back and then placed the empty cup back into her fingers. “Be a dear and serve me another?”
She scowled into the cup. “I’m not a maid.”
“Pity.” He grinned wolfishly. “I imagine the best thing for you would be a little discipline…”
“Oh?” Warmth spread across her chest before she could stop it. He would not get the best of her, not this time. “And you think you’re just the man to carry out such a task?”
“Is that a challenge?” he whispered, nearly brushing his body against hers as she took a few steps backward only to note that a wall was keeping her from a safe escape. “I do so love those.”
“Yes, I’m sure all of London is aware of your little bets about raindrops and horses.”
“One time.” He rolled his eyes. “And I was foxed. You can hardly blame me for betting on such nonsensical things while in my cups.”
“You do many nonsensical things when you are in your cups. I’m shocked you’re able to function at all.”
“God, you make a man want to drink, Sara.”
She let out a little gasp. “Cease from using my name in public.”
“What about in private?” He smelled like cider and burnt wood, the good kind, the kind that made her feel warmer than necessary as he leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. “What may I call you then?”
“Your seduction is completely wasted on me, Jack.”
“Another challenge?”
“Truth.” She nodded, though her body begged her to arch into him. “I refuse to make the same mistake twice.”
He pulled back and frowned, as if confused.”I don’t understand.”
“You wouldn’t.” She needed to escape. Fast. Without a second glance, she sidestepped him and disappeared into the crowd.
CHAPTER THREE
JACK’S FROWN STAYED FROZEN on his face throughout the waltz and even into the quadrille. Well over fifty guests were attending the Christmas Eve ball. Many, available young girls with their hearts set on a holiday romance.
Typically, he’d set about giving them their hearts’ desires. Never let it be said that Jack Mayford didn’t spread himself around in order to offer up holiday cheer.
But this Christmas felt different.
He was different.
Twisted up inside, as if with his merely exchanging a few words with Sara, she’d managed to find all the most important parts of him and twist them around until he was nothing but a confused knot of fury.
What the devil did she mean? Twice?
As if she’d given him a chance once?
Hah! The mere idea was laughable! He’d kissed her three years ago, proclaimed his undying love and affection, only to have the little chit march right out of his life for good.
It had been a Christmas ball in the country, not as extravagant as the one he was currently attending, but still.
Who needed extravagance when one looked the way Sara did?
He smiled at the memory then scowled as his muddled head reminded him that she was the enemy.
Foe, not friend. Never friend.
His chest ached.
Again.
And the memory, the one he’d tried so desperately to push back into the furthest recess of his mind, sprang forth, leaving him completely defenseless.
“Sara.” He whispered her name reverently as she twirled over and over again with one of his brothers. She had just turned seventeen.
And she was a complete vision.
At one and twenty, he’d finally been given his inheritance, though he hadn’t a clue what to do with it. He had enough money to quite literally sit the rest of his days without lifting a finger.
But idle hands were of the devil.
He knew that well, considering his very idle hands had a devil of a time not reaching out and pulling her against his hard body, taking her lips between his and making promises a man his age had trouble keeping.
Forever — being one of them.
She giggled again, her nearly white-blonde curls bouncing at the nape of her neck as she let out another laugh.
The dance ended.
And as luck would have it, she was facing him.
&nbs
p; “Jack?” She tilted her head. “I know that look.” Her head shook as if she was enjoying a joke at his expense. “You have a mind to put a frog in my bed don’t you? Well, I’ll have you know that I’ve locked all windows and doors, you’ll have to die and become a Christmas ghost in order to gain entry.”
He tapped his chin with his fingertips. “The idea does have merit, tell me how would you kill me?”
“Oh, I love this game.” She giggled, slipping her arm through his. “The many ways to kill Jackson Mayford!”
“Delicious, you know that sounds like a book title?”
“Ah you’ve discovered my secret, dear Jack. I mean to write a book about all of your weaknesses and then publish it. Truly, I’d be doing women everywhere a favor.”
“And what about me?” He acted hurt as he pressed a hand to his chest. “I’ll be a complete outcast.”
“Never fear. I’ll wait until you’re dead first,” She said with a cheerful pat of her hand.
“Oh.” He nodded encouragingly, “That completely sets my mind at ease. Do go on.”
They walked down the poorly lit hall to their designated spot near the bottom of the second stairway. During Christmas, one could see the maze through the large windows. Mistletoe was as always placed above the entry to the large house.
“Spiders,” she finally announced.
Jackson stopped walking. “Pardon?”
“You don’t have many fears, but I believe the fact that you nearly collided with a wall last time you saw a spider gave you away.”
“Nonsense.” Jackson shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “I was merely getting out of its line of fire, just in case it decided to launch itself into the air towards my face. Really, Sara, it’s all I have going for me, my face, whatever would I do if I was scarred for life?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’d manage.”
“I think not. After all, I’m known for dimples more than my quick wit. Such a shame, for I think I’ve been making so much progress.”
She let out a little giggle then led him to the stairs. “Spiders in your bed?”
“Bloody hell, woman, say bed again and I won’t be able to keep myself from carrying you upstairs.”
“Nice try, you’re still not getting into my room.”
“Damn it.”
Another laugh bubbled out of her. “Tsk, tsk, such language in front of a girl.”