Jo Goodman

by My Reckless Heart

  * * *

  Jonna had no intention of staying long when she went to check on her house guest. She had been up early that morning, at the harbor office before eight, and after a near sleepless night it had been a difficult day. There were the usual annoyances: untimely delays, spoiled cargoes, complaints about the costs. A bit more rare, but not without precedent, was the problem with Huntress's manifest and her bills of lading. Too much time was spent, first by her secretary, then by her, on a matter she thought shouldn't have been a problem at all. What was so difficult about matching the cargo list with the cargo? She had seen the crates in question being hauled away from the harbor herself, so she knew they existed. She had a bill of lading to state that they had been paid for by the shipper, yet she had no record of them on the manifest the cargo master kept. If Jeremy Dodd had been doing his job in Charleston, the crates could hardly have come aboard without his noticing.

  Jonna pushed the problem to the back of her mind. It wasn't important enough to have consumed so much of her time, and that in itself made it more frustrating.

  The door to Decker's room was not completely closed. Jonna entered soundlessly then came up short as she registered the sight of Decker in the hip bath. Expecting to be ordered out, and quite willing to comply this time, she let her hand rest on the doorknob. It was only when he said nothing that she concluded he was taunting her, and Jonna's nature was to accept a challenge rather than shy away from one. Good sense told her to back out of the room. Defiance moved her to close the door.

  He was facing her, watching her... or so she thought. Jonna didn't realize he was sleeping until she was standing beside the tub. Defiance disappeared and left a wave of foolishness in its wake. What did it say about her, she wondered, that she could allow herself to be goaded by Decker Thorne even when he was sleeping?

  Shaking her head, her slight smile more wry than regretful, Jonna bent and picked up the bandages that had been around his ribs. She laid them over the back of the rocker with his nightshirt and dressing gown. She should go, she told herself, but her feet only moved in the direction of the large wing chair by the fireplace. She sat down, curled her feet beneath her, and waited.

  * * *

  The water cooled to the point that the chill of it woke Decker. He groped for a towel and raised himself up, drying off his shoulders and damp hair as he stood. He was on the point of stepping out of the bath when he saw Jonna.

  "Bloody hell," he swore.

  She didn't stir.

  Decker peered in her direction more closely. Firelight bathed her face in warm hues of gold and crimson, and Jonna's long black lashes left a shadow just beneath her closed eyes. Sleeping. He swore again, more softly this time, and went back to the business of drying himself. It was her small gasp that alerted him to changing circumstances.

  Decker considered his options. He had the towel, but it was around his shoulders. The water was too cold to use it for cover. And his ribs ached too fiercely for him to dive for the refuge of the bed. "Since my modesty is already compromised," he said, "I suppose you can look as much as you want."

  Jonna blinked rapidly several times.

  Annoyance faded as Decker began to appreciate the farce unfolding in his bedchamber. "I hadn't thought of that," he said dryly. "Do you only get half an eyeful that way?"

  Groaning, Jonna placed both hands over her eyes. "Please put something on," she said.

  Decker did not see any reason for hurrying now. He stepped out of the tub carefully. "You could always leave, Miss Remington."

  "I can't see," she said. "Not with my hands over my eyes. I'll fall on my way to the door."

  "Your logic leaves something to be desired, but I won't dispute it." Decker picked up his drawers and put them on, then slipped into the dressing gown. He left it unbelted. His ribs had to be wrapped anyway, he thought. He was not in favor of expending any unnecessary energy. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he finished toweling his hair dry. When he was done he combed it with his fingers.

  "You can come out from behind your hands now," he told her. He watched her do so slowly, splaying her fingers first, risking only a peek from between them. "Your lack of trust is hardly flattering, Miss Remington. Your maids were more circumspect in carrying out their duties than you've been."

  "My duties?" she asked, letting her hands fall away and into her lap. "What duties?"

  "To make me comfortable," he said. "Isn't that the first obligation of a hostess?"

  "Are you saying you haven't been treated well?"

  "I'm saying that you could acknowledge my right to privacy by not appearing in this room every time I open my eyes."

  Jonna wondered if Decker could see the rush of heat to her cheeks. It was an effort not to raise her hands and touch them. She came to her feet instead. Her striped silk gown was a deep shade of plum, and the movement lifted the hem around her ankles, giving it an almost iridescent quality before it fell back. Jonna's hands were folded quietly in front of her. "You're right, of course. It won't happen again."

  Decker's dark brows creased. He held one hand over his swollen eye to get a better look at her with his good one. "You may as well stay now," he said. "I need help with my bandages."

  "I'll ring for Mattie."

  "Not Mattie," Decker said. "She's all thumbs."

  "Janie, then."

  "She pulls them too tight."

  "Dorcas."

  "Too loose."

  Exasperated, Jonna placed her hands on her hips. "Who is it you want, Captain Thorne?"

  The answer came without hesitation or reservation. "I believe I already said that, Miss Remington. I want you."

  Jonna's heart hammered in her chest. It didn't make sense to her that she was reacting so strongly to his words. He had not said them suggestively, but rather matter-of-factly. It did not seem that he required her services in any personal way, yet she felt herself responding as if he had. Annoyance flattened the lush curve of her mouth.

  Decker watched her cross the room. There was the whispered rustle of silk as Jonna approached the bed. He liked that sound, liked the contrast of its softness to Jonna's staccato step. Her limp was barely noticeable now and she was no longer using the cane. She had a serious stride, one that could never be taken as lacking in purpose, yet there was a certain reckless elegance in her walk that invariably turned heads. Decker had never seen her give any indication that she noticed.

  Jonna picked up the linen wraps. "I've not done this before," she said. "I might be no better at it than any of my maids."

  Decker opened the front of his dressing gown wider. "You can't be any worse," he said.

  "Perhaps you'd better stand." She followed his pained progress as he complied. "What did the doctor say when he was here?"

  He gave her the report. "I shouldn't wear out my welcome this time," he said. "I can leave tomorrow or the day after."

  One of Jonna's brows arched. Her glance was skeptical. "You can't even see out of your right eye."

  "The swelling's actually gone down from what it was this morning. Anyway, it won't heal faster here than aboard Huntress." Decker expected her to argue. He knew a moment's disappointment when she didn't. It wasn't until much later that he realized the lack of a response on her part wasn't the same as agreement. "Can you raise that bandage higher?" he asked.

  Jonna slipped her index finger between the linen wrapping and Decker's chest, loosened the bandage, and slid it upward. She kept her eyes focused on what she was doing, but when she heard his sharp intake of air, she risked a glance upward. "Have I hurt you?"

  The catch in his breath had nothing to do with physical pain. "No, keep going."

  "Very well," she said. She was standing very close to him now. Her arms were around him, under the dressing gown, as she unrolled more of the wrapping across his back. If he lowered his arms he could have enclosed her in the dressing gown, cocooned her in silk.

  Decker could feel her breath on his skin. It was very light. Warm. He remembered th
at she had tasted sweet. He needed to think about something else. "What happened to Tess?" he asked.

  There was a brief pause then Jonna continued wrapping. "She left."

  "I gathered that. I wondered why. She seemed happy enough here. Or at least she did until that day you were hurt at the wharf. Then she and that other girl... what was her name?"

  "Emily."

  "Yes, Emily. Well, that night they both looked scared witless, but I suppose it was their concern for you. I didn't expect they'd be gone by the time I returned from Charleston."

  Jonna pulled the wrapping more tightly than she meant to, eliciting a small groan from Decker. She eased back before she tied off the ends. "Tess was dismissed for stealing. Emily left as some sort of protest."

  "Tess? Stealing? That doesn't sound right."

  Jonna stepped away, surveyed her work, and indicated Decker could close his dressing gown. He let it fall but still didn't belt it. Without pausing to consider what she was about, she did it for him. "I didn't concern myself with the particulars. Grant asked me about her, too. Apparently she made quite an impression on you both."

  "She was kind and eager to help."

  "She was pretty."

  Decker had no illusions that Jonna was jealous of his attentions to Tess. The edge of jealousy he heard in her voice was there because of Grant Sheridan's interest in the servant. "Yes," he said. "She was pretty. She also wasn't any thief. What was she accused of taking?"

  Jonna shrugged. "Silver, I think." She turned her back on Decker and went to the fireplace. Adding a log, she poked at the flames. When Decker was quiet for so long she glanced over her shoulder. He was staring at her in a way he had never done before. His features were set hard, his eyes cold. "I have Remington Shipping to run," she said, straightening. "I told you before that Mrs. Davis is in charge of my home."

  "Perhaps you should take the same interest in your employees here as you do at the harbor."

  "What is that supposed to mean?"

  "Tess wouldn't have taken your silver. She had opportunity to take my earring. That piece is worth much more than a few spoons and forks or a tea service." Decker thrust his hands into the pockets of the dressing gown. It was a better place for them than around Jonna's neck. "Did your housekeeper find the silver on Tess?"

  "In her room, I believe."

  "Did you put it there?"

  At the accusation Jonna's slender frame snapped to attention. She fairly vibrated with anger. "I think you had better explain that remark."

  "Did you put it there to set her up... to get rid of her? I don't think I can be more clear than that."

  "I'm clear on the question," she said. Jonna put the poker down, very much afraid he might give her cause to use it. "What I don't understand is what motive you think I have for doing it."

  "Sheridan."

  Jonna simply stared at him.

  "You said yourself that Sheridan had shown an interest in Tess."

  Now Jonna's mouth parted and her violet eyes widened considerably. "Jealousy?" she asked. "You think I was motivated by Grant's attention to Tess?"

  "Why not?"

  "Why not?" Jonna repeated. "Because the notion's absurd."

  "Because Tess is black?"

  "Because I don't love Grant Sheridan!"

  Except for the crackle and hiss of the fire there was no other sound in the room. It was as if the larger silence held substance and grounded them separately, holding them still. Their eyes locked, but the exchange was without meaning, their expressions quickly and skillfully guarded. She did not take back the words she had spoken. He did not ask if they were true.

  Jonna could never say how long she stood there. She only knew that she was the first to move. Her silk gown swayed as she spun on her heel and headed for the door.

  Decker called to her. When she didn't stop he moved quickly to block her path. He held out his hands to keep her from bumping into him, but the effort was only marginally successful. Thrown off balance by his sudden appearance in front of her, she ended up toppling into his chest sideways.

  The edges of his vision darkened as Decker rocked back on his heels. Excruciating pain forced a guttural cry from his throat. He staggered, thought he would fall, and then felt something catch his weight. He leaned heavily, and the support for his shoulder began to sag.

  Jonna's breath came raggedly as she struggled with Decker's weight. She pushed against him, forcing him up right and steadying him at the same time. "I can't do this alone," she said under her breath. "And neither can you."

  The first wave of pain had receded. Decker now felt just ripples. He let himself be helped back to the bed because Jonna was right—he couldn't do it alone. She turned down the covers with one hand while she kept her shoulder under his arm, then she lowered him onto the bed. When she would have moved away she found he was holding a fistful of her dress. She looked at him pointedly.

  "Let me go."

  Decker shook his head. "I didn't go through all that just to have you leave anyway. In case you didn't realize it, I was trying to stop you when you plowed into me."

  "It was a very clever ruse," she said dryly. "And it worked temporarily."

  Decker looked down at the fist of material he still held and then back at Jonna. "It's still working. Sit down." He saw her hesitate. "You could fight me, and given my present condition, you might even win. Or, and I like this idea better, you could take off that dress and leave me holding it while you walk away."

  Jonna sat down.

  "That's better."

  "I don't want to talk about Grant," she said.

  "Neither do I."

  "Then why—"

  Decker gave a little tug on her gown, cutting her off. "I want to know if Jack spoke to you today."

  "He was at the warehouse and in and out of my office several times. Was there something in particular he was supposed to say?"

  Decker's good eye narrowed fractionally. "Do you imagine I have endless patience, Jonna?" He had never addressed her familiarly before, and she wasn't able to hide her surprise. "You've seen me naked," he said. "I think we can have less formality. You can call me Decker."

  Jonna's smile was sweetly beautiful and completely insincere. "Hateful arrogant bastard comes to mind, but it's a mouthful." Her smile changed to complacent and confident as Decker's bark of laughter ended in a very real groan of pain.

  He caught his breath, wincing as he sipped the air. "You did that on purpose," he said when he could speak again.

  Her features were without a trace of guile. "Did what?"

  "Made me laugh. You knew it would hurt."

  "That would be cruel."

  Decker's mouth twisted to one side in a wry smile. His accusation hadn't cracked her composure. She was still regarding him coolly, patiently. "All right," he said, conceding the round to her. "Now tell me what you thought of Jack's concerns."

  Jonna no longer pretended she didn't know what Decker was talking about. "They're really your concerns, aren't they?" she said. "You simply filled Jack's head full of them and sent him on to talk to me."

  "Did it work?"

  "If you're asking if I listened to him, I did. I simply don't draw the same conclusions as either of you. I don't have any enemies. Quite frankly, I don't inspire that sort of passion."

  And because she said it so naturally, as if she had long ago come to terms with it as fact, Decker was moved to show her something different. He released her dress so he could push himself upright. "Close your eyes, Jonna," he said softly, insistently.

  "What—"

  His face was near enough to hers that he could feel her breath. She was searching it, not afraid, merely uncertain. "Close your eyes."

  She did.

  That was when he kissed her.

  Chapter 5

  Jonna felt the heat of his mouth a moment before he kissed her. She could have pulled away or turned her head or pushed at Decker's shoulders. It even registered in some remote area of her brain that any of thos
e responses would be acceptable. She did none of those things.

  Her lips parted instead. His mouth was warm, his touch gently exploring. He changed position, tilting his head, and pressed the kiss from another direction. His tongue swept her upper lip, then the lower one. He teased her by running it along the ridge of her teeth, but never pushing its entry.

  It was Jonna who leaned into the kiss. A small sound at the back of her throat signaled her frustration, and she could sense the shape of his smile against her lips. When his tongue slid along the sensitive underside of her lip, she engaged him with a like response. She had the satisfaction of knowing the smile vanished.

  She caught a hint of tea and lemon on her tongue and realized it was the taste of him. The kiss somehow seemed more intimate, her awareness of his touch more complete. Her senses were opened now to the warmth and fragrance of his skin, the sound of his breathing. Only her sense of sight went unsatisfied, and she knew it would have to remain that way. If she opened her eyes this would end.

  God help her, she thought. She didn't want this to end.

  Decker felt the swell of passion in her. Her responses echoed his own as she returned his kiss full measure. The press of his mouth became hungrier and more demanding, and Jonna didn't shy away. His hands had settled on her waist when she leaned into him. Now they grazed her sides slowly, his fingers sliding up her back. Decker felt her stiffen, but he didn't release her and she didn't ask him to. He swallowed her small gasp as his thumbs passed once over her breasts.

  Layers of clothing were of little consequence. Decker felt her nipples rise and harden before he cupped the undersides of her breasts; then his hands slid higher, this time across her upper arms and shoulders. He held her face for a moment, deepening the kiss just once before he raised his head.