The Dream

by Jaycee Clark

  That smirk played at the edge of his lips. “Yes, I suppose you do have a point.” He settled back against the cushions, his arms draped along the back. “Hmm… Marriage. That brings up another topic. Do you like children, Emily?”

  Pain. Fast as an adder, struck, sinking deep in her soul. For a moment, Emily didn’t know what to do. The scenery outside was calming, or so she convinced herself.

  She tried to smile. “Yes, Jason, I love children. I love them very much. You’ve a beautiful daughter. Joy is precious.”

  “Yes, she is.”

  And so was Mary. With an iron hand, she shoved the thought away. “Might I ask if I’ve met your future bride?”

  There was that crooked, wicked grin that narrowed the corner of his eyes. Jason nodded.

  “I have?” She racked her brain over who it might be. She’d met several ladies at luncheons, balls, and soirees. Drawing a blank, she asked, “What’s her name?”

  He tilted his head to her, but then said, “That is a question that I feel I cannot answer.”

  Well, drat. She wanted to know. Although for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why. What business of hers was it anyway? Focusing back on their “game”, she proceeded to the next round. “I take it this is when I’m to ask a favor of you?”

  “It would appear that way, madam, yes.”

  Emily thought for a moment of something she would like from him.

  “Remember,” he said with a wiggle of brow, “nothing untoward.”

  “What do ladies generally like?”

  Jason shrugged. “The usual. Pretties, fripperies, flowers. How should I know? You’re a woman.”

  At the slight befuddlement, she smiled. “Take me fishing.”

  At his shocked expression, she hastily added, “That is if you are not married when you decide to pay your forfeit. And if you know how.”

  “Fishing? You want me to take you fishing?” Black ebony brows rose high above his eyes, before he frowned and muttered under his breath about fans.

  “Yes.” Fans? Uncertainty laced through her.

  With a small shake of his head he agreed, whispering, “Fishing?”

  From the look on his face she could tell his next question was going to cost her.

  “What was your family like?”

  She knew it. “My family? You mean my parents?”

  At his nod she thought about her answer.

  “My mother is wonderful. She is very beautiful, and loves us very much. My sister and I were very close. Her name is Anne. I really miss her sometimes, actually all the time.” Lord, did she ever.

  “You said is. I thought your family was dead, and what of your father?”

  That stupid story. Her grandparents had told everyone that she’d married and moved away and after her husband passed on, she went back home, but could not find her family. America, full of barbarians, was a dangerous place. “We don’t know anything for certain. I see no reason to give up hope for my mother and sister. As for Neil, he liked to think he was a man of God, but he wasn’t and I will only say that I hope he rots in Purgatory for all eternity.”

  Perhaps she’d been too venomous with that last remark.

  “For all eternity?” he asked grinning.

  She couldn’t return the amusement. Emily silently looked out the window. Stupid. She should have kept that last bit to herself. What was it about being here that made her forget things? To keep it all inside? How could she have forgotten the first rule? Never allow others to see the truth? And what was it about this man that lowered her guard?

  “Emily?”

  “Hmm? Oh, I’m sorry. My turn is it? What is your family like?” She repeated his question back to him.

  “My parents were wonderful. They loved each other very much. Threw caution to the wind, my father did, just as my grandfather before him. My grandmother was a governess when she met my grandfather. She was the second daughter of a destitute Scottish laird. My mother was the daughter of a vicar, of course, she was also the granddaughter of a duke, so I suppose both were thought to be acceptable. That is something I admire about the males of my family. They loved their wives very much and didn’t care who saw it, or what those people thought.”

  She watched his fingers drum on his thigh, strong, yet elegant fingers. Long and well shaped. Theodore hands had been tanned, thin, their appearance hiding their strengths until he struck. No, think of Jason. His hands made her think of how gentle he was when he’d felt her face the other night after the Athridge affair. The way they’d grazed so carefully over her wrist.

  She took a deep breath.

  His voice drew her attention back to his face. “I too have a sister. Caroline, obviously. We were the only children and she is just a few years older than you I believe.”

  Emily listened as he told more of his family. “Mother is still alive and is living in Cornwall. Though she’s been in Kent for three weeks. Father died two years ago in a hunting accident when he fell from his horse.”

  “What happened?”

  He looked at her, his eyes turbulent. “We’d argued and I took off on Pegasus to cool my head before I said something I might regret. Mother sent him after me and we actually managed to talk.” He frowned as if still trying to figure that bit out. “We had one of the few man-to-man conversations I can ever remember having with him. It was as if were equals instead of father and son.” He sighed. “We headed back to the house when the storm opened up. Lightning shot down and shattered a tree.” He shrugged and swallowed. “A rather large limb fell atop him. I too was struck down. Never knew if it was a rock or limb that gave me this, not that it matters.” He ran his finger over the scar. “A groom found us. Thought we were both dead.”

  Silence settled in the carriage.

  “You miss him,” she said.

  “Yes, I do,” Jason admitted.

  The game they were playing went on quite smoothly as they both moved to safer, mundane topics. Interests. Passions. Books. Places to see. They were passing through a village and Jason knew they would be at Blackstone Manor within an half an hour. His mood had deepened since speaking of his father. He hoped that by opening up about his past, she might confide in him.

  “Emily, what was your husband—I don’t even know his name—like?”

  Silence. Jason started to wonder if she had even heard his question, but just as he was about to repeat it, Emily answered.

  She twisted her hands in her lap. “Theodore was considered an upstanding member of the community and a revered member at the church. He became the minister for the last couple of years he was alive, after Neil passed on.”

  Answered, but not in the way he wanted. Theodore. He remembered that name from her fevered rantings. He remembered her begging Theodore to stop. He ground his teeth until they groaned.

  “Why do you ask?” Her soft question pulled him back.

  “Truthfully, I have no idea.” Jason bit down on his temper, but the compulsion to know ate at him. “I suppose because, even though it shouldn’t, it bothers me that another man has held you like I have, kissed you like I have. It bothers me, even though it shouldn’t. It’s none of my business I know. Call it morbid curiosity.” He studied her. “Was Theodore a passionate man?”

  “What?” Her incredulous voice reflected her shocked expression.

  “Never mind.” Jason felt like a complete idiot. What had made him ask such an inappropriate question?

  Silence radiated throughout the carriage as it rolled down the road, bouncing and jostling slightly as it hit a pothole.

  “About some things. Theodore had a passion for his religion, for his beliefs, for…” Emily trailed off.

  “For you?”

  Jason watched her closely, noticed how she slightly paled, and fisted her hands. He thought she wouldn’t answer his question that he’d unintentionally blurted out.

  “I suppose some would say he was, in his own way.”

  That wasn’t what Jason wanted to hear. But when he
got over his first reaction of jealousy he realized there was more underlying her words. More than she was telling. He wondered at it, and was all too afraid he understood it.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, carefully, leaning slightly forward, his elbows on his knees.

  Shaking her head she sat up straighter and said, “No, I won’t answer that.”

  Jason knew she was fortifying the walls she had built around herself. However, he had found a weakness there. For just a few minutes he was able to see partly beyond those walls. He found he wanted to knock down each and every one, stone by stone. He just didn’t know how, but he would. He rubbed his finger down his scar again.

  For a moment, neither said a word.

  Then Emily spoke. “It wasn’t your fault, you know.”

  Jason looked at her. “What wasn’t?”

  “The accident with your father.”

  He frowned, wondering how the topic had been turned back to him and how the woman had landed on that very issue he’d never told another soul. He stared at her for a moment, then cleared his throat. “If I hadn’t…” He trailed off as she reached out and grabbed his hand. Her eyes. She knew.

  “No it wasn’t. You can berate yourself for it, for the rest of your life, but it won’t help.”

  “How would you know?” he asked as he pulled his hand away.

  “Because of my mother.” She blinked, but didn’t look away. “I blame myself for wherever she is today.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She shook her head, reached over and patted his thigh before sitting back in her own seat.

  His confused emotions, edging all too quickly toward anger had vanished when she patted his damn thigh into something entirely more basic. He was looking at her when she turned back to him.

  “How did you come by yours?”

  “My what?”

  “Your scar,” he said leaning forward. Ever so slowly he reached up and traced the small irregular shape on her upper lip.

  Shaking her head, he knew she wouldn’t answer that question.

  He couldn’t help but take her hands in his and place a gentle kiss on her wrists. Emily shivered, but it wasn’t, he knew, because she was chilled.

  Jason realized they were now within a quarter of an hour away from their destination.

  “So, you’ve found your bride. Whoever the woman is, she is very fortunate to have you.”

  “Do you think so? You think she’ll be happy to marry me? I hope so. I plan to be generous to a fault. If the woman was able to catch my heart, then I want to be able to give her anything she desires. I will cherish her, and love her, and hope that she will do the same. I will try not to be too jealous, but I must admit that what I consider mine is mine. Infidelity I will never tolerate. I hope to be a good father to our children.” He saw the confusion in her eyes, shifting over—disappointment? Jason hoped so. Since he still held her hands, he gently pulled her closer to him. Once again he turned her wrist up to his mouth and placed a gentle kiss on the sensitive skin. Emily shivered. “Do you think I’ll make a decent sort of husband and father, Emily?”

  “Y-Yes. I-I do,” she whispered.

  He couldn’t help it. He had to taste again. Honey and vanilla. That was her taste. As their lips touched, a soft sigh escaped her. He tried to be gentle, but he had to have more. Jason slanted his mouth demandingly over hers, wanting more, needing more. He tongue plunged into her mouth as her sigh softly released. She met him in every demand and every act. Emily was a passionate woman, yet confusingly, she seemed new to it, as though she were a virgin, but of course she wasn’t. Not that Jason cared at that particular moment if the woman with him were a virgin or a widow. She was an enigma, full of contrasts. That described the honey-colored siren in his arms.

  His mouth moved from hers to her chin, raining little kisses along her jawline, ending at her ear, where he lingered, pulling the lobe between his teeth. Another shudder shook Emily.

  “It’s like a fire,” she whispered.

  He grinned. “I know.” He licked the area beneath her ear, near her jaw, felt her pulse against his lips. Her vanilla scent teased him. “You smell like a sweetmeat. I could just…” He returned to ravage her mouth.

  Emily was lost in the onslaught of emotions. She arched against him without even realizing her body was answering its own desires. Jason seemed to know just what to do. She really shouldn’t be kissing him. He was thinking of marrying another woman.

  But he made her feel…

  Alive.

  Special.

  His mouth teased hers, and their breaths mixed.

  Cherished.

  His hand trailed from the back of her neck along her shoulder and back up her collarbone, finally dipping low to cradle her breast.

  Emily gasped with the shock of it. And from the pleasure. Moaning into his mouth, she hardened her efforts to match his kisses.

  “Emily. Honey. We’ve got to stop.” He pulled gently away, holding her arms. She put a hand to her lips, heavy and swollen from his kisses.

  “You’re beautiful.” He licked his lips. “And taste like vanilla.” He kissed the tip of her nose and sat her back into her seat. Jason took a deep breath and leaned back against the cushions behind him. “I apologize. I seem to always forget myself when I am with you. I am usually the perfect gentleman. I do assure you.”

  “I know.” And if she made him forget to be a gentleman? What did that say about her? She rubbed her forehead.

  “I’ve another question for you.”

  Emily decided to enjoy what time they had left in the carriage. “Another one? This isn’t about my past is it? Because I will tell you, I won’t answer it. And in all fairness, considering what just transpired, I really don’t care to talk about your upcoming nuptials.”

  He frowned. “You don’t?”

  She shook her head. “We really shouldn’t have kissed again,” she muttered. What was wrong with her around this man? “And no, I do not.”

  “Then I’ll just cut right through the chase.”

  She studied his serious expression. What did that mean?

  He smiled. “Emily, will you marry me?”

  Chapter Eleven

  A moment of thundering silence rained within the carriage.

  With a raise of her brow, she asked, “I beg your pardon?”

  “I asked if you would do me the honor of being my wife. I want you to be my marchioness, Emily.”

  She was already shaking her head. “You don’t know what you’re asking. No, you’re just saying that because of what happened.”

  Well, this was not how he had anticipated his proposal to be received. She could at least seem pleased.

  “I assure you, madam,” he stated, aware his voice had chilled, “I have never done anything so utterly foolish as to propose marriage because of a kiss. Nor do I do anything I don’t want to do, and I always know exactly what it is I am about.”

  Emily was silent for a moment. “You’re serious.”

  Jason saw no need to respond.

  Her eyes widened. “I-I… That is… I don’t know what to say, or how to react, let alone what to do.”

  “Then let me help you. You say, ‘Why yes, Jason, I’d be delighted to marry you. After all, you did save my life.’ Some excitement wouldn’t be remiss, nor would a kiss.”

  She shook her head. “Can you never be serious?”

  “Oh, I am serious. I’ve never been more serious about anything in my entire bloody life.”

  “But you can’t want to marry me.” She shifted, confusion clear in her voice. “You really don’t know anything about me.”

  “Be that as it may—”

  “Jason,” she interrupted, “we hardly know each other.”

  “We know each other quite well, madam. Are you saying you have no liking for me?” he asked.

  “No, that is not what I’m saying. I admit, I do care for you, but I… I can’t… I don’t… The thing is…” She took a deep breath and
rushed out, “I don’t exactly trust you.”

  He didn’t like that little statement one bit. The muscle jumped in his cheek.

  “Please, I meant no offense,” she murmured. “I cannot seem to trust anyone. It is nothing you did or didn’t do. It is me. It is all my fault. I appreciate your offer and part of me is very flattered by it. Perhaps if I were different… I wish I could accept it,” she whispered, her fingers fidgeting on her skirt. “But, well…no. I don’t think so.”

  Jason took a deep breath, tried to get past the anger. Very calmly, he said. “I see.” He realized his voice was as sharp and clipped as the harsh wind on the North Sea. Shaking his head, he said, “Actually, no, I don’t. And though I realize it’s not exactly the gentlemanly thing to do, might I ask why?”

  She sat in silence, staring out the window.

  “Are you going to answer me? I think I deserve to know why the first woman I ever ask to marry me, refuses. Why won’t you marry me, Emily? Why won’t you be my marchioness?”

  Before she could utter a word a new thought occurred to him.

  “Is there someone else?”

  He saw her eyes brighten and knew she was about to lie.

  “Why, yes. That is exactly it, Jason. I’m so very sorry.”

  “And who might the bastard be?” he bit out.

  Her mouth opened and closed, her brows furrowing.

  He slashed his hand through the air. “Emily, leave go, you can’t lie. There is no one else. So I do need a reason. A viable one.”

  “Must you have a reason? Won’t my simple ‘no’ work?”

  He grinned. “No.”

  She smiled. “But why not? I need a viable reason why my refusal will not be accepted.”

  Bloody everlasting hell. The minx would drive him to Bedlam. He would have said more, but the carriage pulled to a stop in front of an immense dark grey stone manor.

  Her eyes crinkled on her smile before she looked out the window. “The rocks are so dark as to appear almost black.”

  Jason huffed a breath out, raked his hand through his hair, and waved toward the mansion. “Thus the name. Blackstone Manor.”