by Jillian Hart
"As it has been all winter. I will be fine. Stay with your father, who needs you." She grabbed her old cloak from the peg by the back door, the bloodstain prominent and the patches new. "Excuse me."
The cold wind felt good on her face. She hadn't wanted to come here this night. For once she wanted to stay and work in her grandfather's home because she wanted to avoid seeing Jonah. She never wanted to lay eyes on him again. No matter how hot his kisses or how he made her dream.
She broke into a run when she reached the road and kept on going.
"I think she overheard." Thomas set aside his cup.
"I know she did. She would have to be deaf not to hear." He rubbed his hands across his face. Lord, what had he done? How much had she heard?
"We can hire a couple of nurses." Thomas turned his attention to a plate of cornbread. "Father will have care, you can pick a better woman, and you will be free of this harebrained idea of yours. No one will offer to help with Father, Jonah."
"Tessa did."
"You said yourself she has a lover. And you plan to be next. That doesn't have to change."
"That's not what I meant." Jonah snatched his cup and carried it to the board counter and stacked it beside the other dirty dishes. "I have decided on Tessa. Accept my decision, Thomas."
" 'Tis your choice. You will have to live with her a long while. Just consider that."
"I have." He had done nothing but think of it all day. He'd watched her move around the house, slim and graceful and as proper as could be, but he knew different. He'd caught a glimpse of her passionate nature, had tasted her seasoned kisses, and knew the rest of her would be as sweet.
He pulled back the curtain to watch Tessa, but she was nowhere in sight. If she had been heading home, she would have cut across their backyard, taking the way through the woods. He headed toward the parlor, where only a single bayberry candle tossed a weak light across polished floors and furniture.
He tugged back the draperies and gazed out into the darkness. Fog misted the ground and obscured much of the road. Damn, where did she go? Then he saw a faint movement, nothing more than a shadow.
Wherever she was headed, it wasn't toward home. Jonah remembered how he'd come across her his first night in town, alone in the woods. No decent woman crept around in the dark like that. And never alone.
He grabbed his coat and headed out into the night. Cold crept through his clothes, but he kept walking. She moved quickly, and once again he lost sight of her. Soon, his eyes adjusted to the thick bleak darkness and he caught sight of her again, nearly running full out down the rutted lane.
The fool woman was going to twist an ankle in one of those ruts or slide on the ice. And worse, who was her lover that she ran so fast for the comfort of his arms? Jonah had no doubt the day had been difficult for her. She still believed she was bound by law and ethics to wed Horace Walling.
Jonah wasn't big on ethics and he didn't give a damn for the law. Whatever it cost him, that drunken wife-beater would not walk down the same road as Tessa Bradford, let alone call her wife. He had seen how she was treated at home by a grandfather more moved by greed than family bonds. This woman, who cared for Father with such tenderness and honor-bound devotion.
Only one question remained in his mind, and it had been troubling him since the morning. Who was her lover?
He followed her to a grove of maples where a path cut off the road. Her shoes left clear tracks in the snow. He kept back, so she would not know he followed her. She glanced over her shoulder several times but hadn't seen him. He made sure of it.
She stopped at the edge of the pond, frozen and dark. 'Twas as if she expected to meet someone. She dropped to her knees at the water's edge, now nothing but a dark sheen of thick ice, and put her face to her hands. The faintest sound of tears, of racking heart-deep sobs carried on the wind.
His heart cracked in two. Lord, she was crying. Hard and unrestrained, thinking she was alone. He could guess what troubled her. She'd barely spoken to him today, and then she would not meet his gaze.
She thought he cared for her, and she'd said it herself. She wanted to marry him. But she was already bound by oath and a paid dowry to another man. He hadn't considered how his proposal might hurt her feelings. Surely she could see the solution as easily as he did.
Her tears did not cease, her sobs did not fade. Every bit of his soul wanted to step out into the clearing and go to her. He wanted to hold her tight against his chest until her crying stopped. He wanted to tell her he would pay Horace Walling whatever he wanted, but the agreement between him and her grandfather would be broken.
Father had little time and besides, Jonah wanted no other. Tessa was the right choice. She would not make his life hell, not as their stepmother had done. He knew in his heart that Thomas was wrong. The notorious spinster of Baybrooke was little more than a tender mouse inside, and a woman capable of great passion.
Time passed, and he stood shivering, waiting. Finally her tears stopped. The moon peered out from between thick clouds to glow on the shadowed snow. She wiped her face and stood, then stepped out on the ice. She ran and slid and twirled with her hands out, gaining speed and momentum.
Jonah stepped out of the shelter of the grove, amazed at the sight. Her hair had come down and trailed behind her, sailing and shimmering as dark as the night, and she looked so free, so different from the dutiful woman who had hurried to her grandfather's stables or the angel of mercy who cared all night for his father.
She had been playing on the ice that night he'd come across her. Not meeting a lover. There was no sign of anyone in these peaceful woods, solemn and silent except for Tessa's joy as she slid and frolicked.
His heart cracked, and he hated interrupting her. He suspected her life was severe and held no joy, except for this one freedom, this way she sailed across the frozen pond.
"Tessa."
"Jonah." She lost her balance and hit the ice hard. She spun to a stop on her rump. "What are you doing here?"
"I followed you."
"Why? Oh, I know. You thought I might let you lift my skirts next after I entertained my first lover?" The words tasted so bitter.
"Nay." How sad he sounded. "I only wanted to see who you met with."
"Why, so you can ruin my life further?" She climbed up off the ice. "I heard what you said to your brother."
"Go ahead and get angry at me. Then give me a chance to apologize."
He actually looked contrite. Tessa would have laughed if it didn't hurt so much. She fisted her hands and sorely wished she believed in violence. She would give that man a good smack to the head for what he'd put her through today. Proposing to her! And now this. He almost had her believing-
"You're crying again." He sounded surprised.
"What do you think I would do, enjoy being made sport of? Just like in school when you teased me and pulled on my braids?"
"I did it because I thought you were pretty."
"Except, I'm not pretty. Don't start with the lies. I can take anything tonight but more lies." She stalked off the ice, skirting him intentionally. She didn't trust her self-control right now. Her fist might somehow accidentally connect with his jaw.
"You are bad tempered, but pretty. I have always thought so."
How sincere he sounded. "What do you think? That you can sweet talk me into pulling up my skirts for you? Is that why you're here? Is that why you proposed to me?"
"Tessa, you seem overset. Why don't you calm down-"
Overset! Before she could stop her hand, it was scooping up a fistful of snow. Anger blasted red before her eyes and she aimed and threw. "If you think I'm overset, you just wait."
He sidestepped, but the snowball hit him square in the forehead. "Damn it, why in blazes did you hit me?"
"Why? You have to ask why?" She sent another snowball sailing at his head. He managed to dodge this one, but her anger flared higher, hotter. "Maybe you don't understand, because a big brute of a man like you, who has everybody wors
hipping every step you take, probably doesn't have a single feeling in that big old swelled head of yours. But when something hurts me, I feel it."
"You're right." He held out his hand. "Please, no more snowballs."
"Maybe I should try using a stick on that head of yours."
He laughed, a deep gravelly sound. "Fine. I'm big and stupid. End of argument."
"Well, I'm far from done. The only reason I even stepped foot inside your house tonight is because of your father. He's a nice man, unlike his ungrateful son.
"True." He stalked after her, swift and as cunning as a wolf. He seemed more shadow than substance. "I am not arguing. You're right and I'm wrong."
"What's this? The great Jonah Hunter is being agreeable? I can't imagine why. Wait, I think I know. And let me tell you right now that I'm not going to let you lift my skirts-"
"If you are my wife, you will." A smile flirted along his mouth. "I made an offer to you today, and as far as I'm concerned it still stands."
Tightness filled her chest. "You offered to marry me. But you know full well why I can't."
"Why not? You said you wanted me."
Panic tore through her chest. "I said no such thing. I would never want a man like you."
"A man like me. You say that often." Something snapped in his eyes, intriguing and spellbinding enough to steal her breath away. "You seem to know much about men like me."
"Not as much as you think."
"Maybe you aren't as innocent as you seem." He halted before her, so big he was all she could see. "Mayhap I should find out for certain."
Tessa caught her breath as he laid a hand against her jaw. Heat pulsed across her skin and beat through her blood. This man wanted her? Loved her? She could not see it in his eyes, but it was there in his touch. So hot and possessive and tender all at once, it had to be love.
"Aw, Tessa." Desire for her flickered in his eyes. "You are a dangerous woman."
"Mayhap that is why all the bachelors in the village avoid me."
Laughter flirted along his mouth. "I will have to be very careful around you."
"Because I'm so dangerous?"
He puzzled her, filled her up, and left her dizzy. How could a man do that, affect her in such a way? Her entire body felt alive as it pulsed and tingled, and all for him. She didn't think she loved him, but she did want him, did feel something for him. And it tingled in her blood and buzzed on her lips.
"You're dangerous because you make me forget to think." His mouth captured hers.
The chunk of snow she still held slipped from her hand and clattered to the icy ground. The night seemed to silence as his kiss deepened and his hold on her tightened. He tasted like a cold winter night and something deeper, hotter, more thrilling. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, his hands cradled her neck. She tipped her head back, opening her mouth, accepting the intimate caress of his tongue.
How strangely wondrous. He was all velvet heat, warm and heady, and she surrendered to him completely. His hands smoothed down her back, sending tingling waves of pleasure through her spine. Then up the side of her ribs, dangerously close to her breasts.
Jonah backed her against a tree trunk and trapped her there with the breadth of his magnificent chest and the strength in his body. She didn't mind at all, not when he could make her feel like this. She feathered her fingers across the span of his shoulders. How could a man feel like heaven? He was hard muscle and strength and her fingers ached to touch more.
On a moan, Jonah wrapped his arms around her and hauled her hard against him. She felt every plane of him, every hardness. Her blood pulsed down low in her stomach, and lower still.
He tore away from the kiss, his breathing ragged. Want glazed his eyes, and even in the thick darkness broken only by a dusting of moonlight, she could see how he wanted her, how he desired only her.
She leaned back against the knobby tree trunk, struggling to catch her breath. It was impossible. Jonah just kept gazing down at her, then he reached out and his fingers caught the collar of her cloak. He tugged and buttons came free.
Before she could think to stop him, he smoothly loosened the wooden buttons on the front of her dress. Just four, and he slid his hand beneath the placket. The heat from his fingers seared through her wool underwear. He plundered those buttons too, never lifting his gaze from hers.
"Jonah, you mustn't do this." She breathed the words.
"I already am." His fingers brushed the soft inside curve of her left breast.
A sharp gasp drew her up. "But what about my betrothal?"
"By this time tomorrow, it will no longer exist. Trust me." His clever fingers molded the curve of her breast and began kneading.
On a sigh, she tipped back her head, exposing the long elegant column of her throat Cascades of black curls shimmered with Stardust, and he'd never seen anything so beautiful. She tossed her head to one side and then the other. With a moan, she arched her back and pressed the soft heat of her breasts into the palms of his hands. Soft light brushed her face, accenting the bow of her mouth, so relaxed with pleasure. He'd never seen such an enchantress.
She was a danger, this one. She could reach right in and grab hold of his heart. Blood liquefied in his veins, so hot and molten it thrummed in his groin, and his shaft pulsed hard and taut.
He tugged at more buttons, revealing her perfect flesh to the silvered moonlight. Sweet heaven, but she was a sight. Creamy white, her breasts, softly rounded, and pink tipped. She fit perfectly into his hands.
"Oh, Jonah," she breathed, her fingers curling around his upper arms, digging into his muscles.
Need punched through his body. His groin felt heavy and aching. She looked so ready, with her head tipped back and her eyes closed, making tiny moans as he slipped one hand down her abdomen to inch up her skirts.
Forgotten were the reasons he'd come. He adored the firmness of her breasts, so ripe he wanted to taste them. He bent down, intending to draw one generous nipple into his mouth.
But her hands caught his wrists, stopping him. "I hear something."
The words were whispers, spoken so raggedly he could hardly understand her. "Probably just my heart."
It was pounding like a war drum. All he could think of was finding his way beneath her skirts and burying his aching shaft deep within her willing body.
"Jonah-" The warning sharpened. She clutched her dress over her breasts, covering them.
Ely Bradford stood in the clearing, his gun in one hand. "I ought to shoot you where you stand, Hunter. My granddaughter has an agreement with my neighbor and good friend. She is not your property."
"Not yet." Jonah stood in front of Tessa while she fumbled with the buttons. Something wet struck his hand.
Her tears. With chin down, he couldn't read her face, but a warning went off in his head. Tessa Bradford was as tough as stone and twice as cold, or so many people said.
"You and I have much to discuss, Ely." Jonah turned his back on the man. He stared at Tessa's tears.
Her clothes straight, she lifted her chin. Heat stained her face. Shadows made her eyes black.
She was embarrassed. No, ashamed. Maybe Tessa wasn't as experienced as he thought.
Chapter Nine
Rain dripped from the eaves and beat at the outside walls of the attic, but Tessa refused to let the dreary weather dim her spirits. It was her wedding day.
"He sent his brother to come get your things," Violet huffed as she stormed into the tiny bedchamber. "Notice that he must not have wanted to come himself."
Tessa took one look at the triumphant malice on the girl's face. It had been no secret that everyone in the household had thought Violet held a good chance of being the major's choice for a bride. She kept her voice low. "His father is gravely ill. Jonah rarely leaves his side."
"He did to be alone with you in the woods." Violet's lip curled. "To compromise you. Everyone is talking about it. And wondering how many men there have been over the years."
Tessa clam
ped her jaw shut and tamped down her anger. She would not let the vicious girl rile her on this special day. She was getting married, something she had wished for on endless first stars of the night
And to a man who would not be abusive or cruel, to one who made her blood heat and her heart pitter-patter. She was marrying the most eligible bachelor in the whole of Baybrooke village. She, Tessa Bradford.
"Tell Thomas I'll be right down." Tessa turned her back and knelt to secure the old trunk's clasp.
"I'm hardly your servant." Violet's words came sharp, dripping with unveiled hatred. "There is only one reason why Major Hunter has agreed to marry you, and everyone knows it. And it isn't because you were caught with your bodice down. 'Tis because he wants you to take care of his father."
"He could hire ten women far more skilled than I am to tend his father. Everyone knows that, too." She held her chin firm and refused to let Violet's mean words bother her, even if the same thought had occurred to her last night when sleep would not come and she was remembering Jonah's touch, Jonah's passion.
"But some services he cannot hire here in the good township of Baybrooke, as last night proved. Why else would he risk getting caught trying to rut with you? Why else would he want an ugly, sharp-faced old hen when he could have-"
Heavy footsteps knelled in the tiny landing outside the attic room. A man cleared his voice.
Tessa stood to face Thomas Hunter, who was too tall to straighten to his full height outside her tiny bedchamber. "Thomas, I thought to bring the trunk down myself. The ladder is hard to manage."
"I've climbed ladders before carrying heavier items than your small trunk." He looked uncomfortable and his mouth crooked down in the corners. "Are you ready?"
"Aye. I just need to grab my cloak downstairs."
"Then go on down. I will follow with the trunk." He somehow molded his big body against the wall so she could pass.
"You did not need to come. I could have managed-"
"You are family now. The Hunters help their own." His words were cold, but his dark gaze was kind when he looked at her. Then he flicked his head upward to stare harshly at Violet.