She threw her arms around his neck to reassure him; she caressed the ravaged flesh on his back and powerful shoulders as he sank again and again into her body, his breathing coming harder, faster. She rose to meet him, lifting herself to him, craving more of him, all of him, her throat constricting and tears streaming down her face as she held with all her might onto the man she loved.
Just as Jared held onto her, the terrible darkness gone, blazing light overwhelming him as he shuddered and spilled himself into the wet, engulfing heat of her body, clutching Lindsay to his heart as she moaned wildly and found her climax beneath him.
Long moments later, he still held her, caressing the damp hair away from her tear-stained face, a wave of such fierce possession gripping him that he doubted he could ever let her go.
And when she finally opened her eyes and snuggled against him, his body growing hard and urgent for her once more, he told himself that at least for this one precious night, he would pretend that they would never be apart.
Chapter 28
"Lindsay, are you awake?"
Jared's low query thrilling her, Lindsay didn't move, didn't flutter an eyelash, wanting simply to lie there for another glorious moment and listen to his steady heartbeat against her ear and the sounds of the wharf coming to life outside their window.
She had never known such contentment. She felt utterly, completely, his from head to toe, every inch of her body caressed by him, kissed by him, in ways she could never have imagined between man and woman. And the last time, when he had taken her from behind, his hands moving wildly over her body as if he couldn't touch enough of her at once, she had never known such a sense of consummate possession. Even now it made her cheeks flare hot to think . . .
"Woman, I know you're awake. Unless you're blushing in your sleep, which isn't likely."
She couldn't help smiling, nuzzling closer to him even as he rolled her gently onto her back and brought himself above her, staring into her eyes. She stared back as he smiled, too; she was so filled with love for this man, so filled with hope for their future. Surely now things would work out between them, they had to—
"Don't you think it's time we dressed? I'm sure my men are wondering . . ."
Jared didn't finish the thought, but he hadn't needed to. Lindsay blushed even hotter, although she shook her head, winding her arms around his neck.
"No, I don't want to get dressed. Not yet, Jared."
"Not yet?"
She shivered at the way he looked at her, shivered even more when he shifted his full weight upon her, his smile gone now, intense heat burning in his eyes. She drew in her breath sharply when she felt the hardness of his flesh nudge her softness, her thighs opening to him unbidden as Jared lifted himself slightly and then sank easily into her, her body already wet and eager for him.
As he thrust deeper, yet so slowly she thought she might scream for wanting him fully inside her, he dragged her arms from around his neck and enmeshed his fingers with hers, pushing her hands into the pillow. And still he stared at her as he possessed her, his eyes never leaving hers, not even when his breathing grew unsteady and his lean hips thrust ever faster against hers.
She felt her sudden climax coming upon her like a cresting wave pulling her under deep water, felt Jared grow rigid just as she did, her breath gone, her gaze held captive by his, until they were both lost to the sweet agony of their bodies throbbing together, finding release together.
And still he watched her as if he wanted to see, wanted to know fully, the effect of his possession upon her, his eyes as intent as she'd ever seen them. As if he wanted to burn upon his brain the sight of her surrendering to the ecstasy they brought each other. Lindsay finally closed her eyes, the aching, heart-stopping sensations simply too much.
When she finally opened her eyes, Jared had become quiet except for his flesh still throbbing inside her, and she wondered as wanton heat raced to her toes if he might be growing ready for her again. She knew she would never know enough of him, never feel sated, and a slow smile came over his face as if he'd read her mind. Yet it held a strange hint of sadness, too, and she felt a niggling of unease.
"Jared? What is it?"
"Nothing. Just that the morning has come. It's time you and I were dressed."
He withdrew from her and then was gone from the bed, Lindsay never having felt so bereft as she watched him retrieve his breeches from a chair near the tub. He was so magnificent to look upon, so beautiful, that her throat became tight, her breasts, her body still yearning for him. She blushed hotly at her brazenness, but she left the bed and ran to him just as he turned to fasten his breeches.
"No, no, it's not morning, it can't be," she said, throwing her arms around him. "And if it is, then let's pretend it's not, Jared—"
"Woman, I'd like nothing more," he said so huskily she thought for a moment she had swayed him, his arms going around her to hold her tight. He hugged her so fiercely that for a moment she couldn't breathe, but why did she need air if she could forever be a captive in his arms? Yet all too suddenly he began to release her, although she clung to him, not wanting him to let her go. "Lindsay, how can I hope to find a vicar in this city if you won't allow me to dress?"
She froze, her mouth dropping open, so stunned she simply stared up at him.
"Yes, a vicar," he repeated, giving her a sound slap on her bare bottom, then gently pulling her arms from around his neck. "And he'll be shocked indeed if he arrives to perform our wedding and finds you looking like anything but a blushing bride. Now, shall we dress?"
Lindsay glanced down at herself, overcome as much by shock at what he'd announced as by the joy suddenly flooding her, tears of elation jumping to her eyes. She felt so flustered—light-headed, too—not knowing what to do first, that Jared took pity on her and swept up the towel he'd tossed to the floor last night and wrapped it around her, knotting the thick cloth at her breasts.
"This will do for clothing until you have a chance to bathe. I'll have the proprietor send up some hot water for you."
Lindsay was still so astonished, she didn't notice that Jared had grown tense; she ran to the bed to shake out, one by one, her muslin gown and her underclothes. The garments were a bit crumpled, but she had no others— Oh, Lord, could it really be true?
She turned to look at Jared, but he was already dressed, fastening the last button on his ivory shirt and then thrusting his pistol into his belt. He didn't glance at her but strode to the door, his impatience to be on his way overwhelming her. He couldn't seem to wait for her to become his bride. His bride!
"Jared, wait!" She flew to him, the sudden warmth in his eyes overwhelming her, too; she'd never known such happiness, and she threw her arms around his neck. "Oh, Jared, I knew it would only take some time before you realized you loved me, too. I can't believe we're to be married! It's all I've ever wanted!"
He didn't answer and she didn't see the flicker of pain across his face as he bent his head to kiss her. Kiss her for so brief a moment, she already missed him desperately before he'd even walked out the door, and after he had, she could only stand there, listening to his footfalls retreating down the steps.
Only when they had faded did she allow herself such a whoop of pure joy, she was certain the entire city of Gijón had heard her.
***
Lindsay had bathed, dressed and been pacing excitedly for what seemed like hours, even staring out the window at the bustling waterfront unable to divert her, when she finally heard footsteps returning. She flung open the door, her disappointment so keen when she found the portly proprietor in the hall and not Jared that the poor man was clearly embarrassed.
"Señorita, come. El Capitàn is downstairs— Señorita?"
She had flown past him so suddenly, but she couldn't help herself, so near to bursting was she to see Jared again. And he was waiting for her in the main room of the tavern, a balding, bleary-eyed Englishman standing beside him who appeared even less a vicar than she was a blushing bride. Her face
aflame as she remembered Jared's words, she knew she didn't care that the wedding was coming after . . .
The memory of Jared's recent possession of her as vivid as that his intense gaze now held hers, she swallowed at her sudden nervousness, taking his outstretched hand.
"Lindsay, the Reverend Charles Standish."
"Dee-lighted, my dear." The man hiccuped before Lindsay could utter a word, clearly well into his cups even at this early time of the day. "What a fine day for a wedding, haven't performed one since I left England ages ago, but better to be living among the Spaniards than deported, I always say— Oops, excuse me."
The drunken fellow had practically reeled into her, reeking so foully of rum that Lindsay wrinkled her nose and glanced doubtfully at Jared. She noticed then that he was anything but smiling, probably as dismayed by the man who would perform the sacred ceremony as was she, so to reassure him, she summoned her brightest smile.
"If he can say the words, what else matters?" she whispered in a cheerful aside, glad to see, as she looped her arm through Jared's, that the vicar pulled a prayer book from his pocket, at least having come prepared.
"Do we—have witnesses?" the reverend demanded loudly, another hiccup bursting from his throat.
As if prearranged, the portly proprietor stepped forward, already mopping his eyes with his handkerchief, while two early-bird patrons in no better condition than the vicar lurched out of their chairs. But Lindsay could have been standing in the loftiest church for all she noticed, her gaze upon Jared, her heart overflowing.
He said his vows so soberly, his eyes never leaving hers, while she could barely speak at all, and before it seemed she could blink, the vicar shut the prayer book with a thud and dropped it back into his pocket, the ceremony done. She must have looked startled; in the next instant Jared drew her against him to seal their marriage with a kiss so stirring, she was aware of nothing any longer but the impassioned warmth of his lips upon hers.
Yet just as quickly he released her and took her by the hand, leading her from the tavern while their motley witnesses sank back into their chairs and the vicar demanded a drink from the proprietor, who snuffled into his handkerchief and went back to his work. Lindsay blinked at the blinding sunlight outside, a bit ashamed of herself for thinking she and Jared might retire at once to their room.
Of course, he must have something special planned; perhaps he'd somehow gotten the word to Cooky aboard the Vengeance to prepare a wedding breakfast. He seemed preoccupied as they walked along the busy wharf, and they were moving away from his ship, which made her wonder, but nothing could daunt her joy. She and Jared were husband and wife! At last her dreams had come true—
"Lindsay."
Jared had stopped, his voice oddly somber as he pulled her out of the way of bustling passengers boarding a brig lying at anchor alongside the dock, Lindsay glancing from the commotion to his face. And she sensed then, from the dark turbulence in his eyes, that there was no wedding breakfast in store, her heart plummeting like a stone into her shoes.
"We must part now, Lindsay. Everything's arranged. This ship is bound for London, a Swedish neutral, so you'll be safe. I've paid for your passage, and you should be home within a week—"
"No." She had barely whispered, so stunned, so stricken that she could say no more, staring in shock at Jared. She glanced at the ship, which was preparing to sail, and clutched all the more tightly to Jared's arm. "No—"
"And I say, woman, that you will go. You will return to England and take your place as the Countess of Dovercourt. You'll not want for anything—a house, money, servants—and there you will be safe. Do you hear me? I've a man there, Simon Tuft, a good man whom I trust, and he knows of Sylvia and Ryland Potter. If they would ever dare to show their faces at Dovercourt Manor, Simon has orders what to do—"
"But what of you?" she blurted out, somehow finding her voice, although her throat was so tight she could scarcely breathe. "I don't want a house or money or servants, Jared, only you! Your love is all I want, all I need—"
"And I told you before, Lindsay, I've no love to give you."
"But we—you married me!"
"Only to spare your reputation when you return to England. No matter what story you concoct about your disappearance, people will always wonder—especially if you find yourself with child. At least now you have a husband" —he reached into his belt and pulled out a piece of folded vellum— "and what I trust will pass for a proper license to prove you're Lady Giles, the Countess of Dovercourt."
"No." Lindsay numbly shook her head, refusing to believe him, refusing to take the license, but he forced it into her hand.
"Damnation, listen to me, Lindsay! If it ever becomes known who I am, you must fashion the biggest story of your life and swear you never knew anything about my being the Phoenix, do you understand? You were just as fooled as everyone else."
He shoved her then toward the gangplank, Lindsay so sick at heart that her legs would scarcely move, while Jared felt as if he were dying inside. But, dammit, he had to make her go! He had to!
If he somehow got back to England, he would make amends to her, but at least this way she would be safe. There were too many ships looking for him, even this short stay in Gijón of imminent risk, and he planned for the Vengeance to sail at dark no matter if all the repairs hadn't been made. But for now, if he must hurt her to get her to go . . .
"Jared, please, no! Let me stay with you!"
She had cried out so desperately that sailors and passengers alike were beginning to stare, forcing Jared to be cruel.
"Woman, I've given you everything I can. For once, look at life as it is and to hell with your fantasies!"
He could have stabbed her through the heart, she grew so deathly white, stumbling up the gangplank. It was all he could do not to grab her back, to seize her in his arms and tell her how much he cared. Yet he would no more allow himself to do that than to abandon the vengeful path he had chosen for himself, a path too perilous to share with the woman he loved and would do anything to protect.
Unable to bear the stricken weight of her gaze upon him as she clutched at the railing above, a command going out to drop the gangplank and unfurl the sails, he turned his back on the ship and strode away.
"Good-bye, Lindsay."
His hoarse whisper lost to the noise and bustle of the wharf, he didn't need his eyes burning to know that leaving her was truly the hardest thing he had ever done.
Chapter 29
Lindsay stared at Jared's retreating back until she couldn't see him anymore. The wharf was so crowded, and even then she searched wildly for his dark blond head. But he was gone, though his words still rang in her ears—brutal words that had cut her to the quick and filled her with unimaginable despair.
It was true. He would never love her. He had room in his heart only for revenge. Maybe, just as he'd said, he had given her everything he could . . .
"No," Lindsay whispered fiercely, swiping at the useless tears fogging her eyes as she looked down at the crumpled vellum in her hand.
She had given him everything, too, her love, her very soul; there was nothing left save for her life. And if she had a choice to be safe aboard this neutral vessel or to risk death to be with Jared—it wasn't even a choice! She knew what she wanted to do; memories of his kiss, his caresses, the memory of how he'd stared into her eyes that morning as if emblazoning her rapture upon his mind—all spurred her on.
Such things couldn't be lies, she told herself desperately as she tucked the license in her bodice and climbed onto the railing, then grabbed a fistful of rigging while nearby passengers gasped in surprise. Words might hide the truth, but she'd seen no fantasy in Jared's eyes no matter what he'd said—
"My lady, come down from there! Come down!"
As a dignified gentleman wearing the braided trappings of a captain rushed toward the railing along with several of his crew, Lindsay shook her head and climbed shakily down the rigging.
"No, no, don't wor
ry about me! It was all a mistake, I'm staying in Gijón—oh!"
She lost her footing and almost fell, even now the Swedish vessel edging slowly away from the wharf while she clutched at the rigging and fought to regain a toehold. As more startled faces appeared at the railing, she waved to reassure them and then, squeezing her eyes shut, she jumped, not knowing if she might just make the end of the wharf or find herself in the water.
She laughed giddily when she landed upon something solid, the dock soundly beneath her feet, and she spun again to wave at the ship. The embarking ship that she was no longer aboard, while the Vengeance . . . oh, Lord, the Vengeance.
Realizing as if waking from a frantic daze that she still had to find some way back aboard Jared's ship, and without him seeing her, too, or she was certain he'd lash her to the mainmast of the next vessel to ensure she stayed put, Lindsay ducked into an alleyway that led behind the row of buildings facing the wharf. An alleyway she would not have dared venture into except for the comforting light of midday, although she hurried all the same for fear of meeting any unsavory characters.
Fortunately, she startled only stray cats that meowed and skittered out of her way, and a few serving women who watched her progress curiously before she reached the tavern where she and Jared had stayed the night before. After entering through a back door, Lindsay heard glasses chinking and mugs being thunked down upon tables. She took a brief moment to catch her breath before she swept into the main room and brushed past the stout proprietor, who glanced up from wiping a table, his eyes growing round.
"Señorita—excuse, excuse, señora?"
"My husband told me to wait for him here." Without even looking back, Lindsay proceeded right to the stairs. "El Capitán. He will return soon."
She heard no response; hoping she'd been believed, she raced up the steps and didn't stop until she had entered their former room, relieved to see that it wasn't occupied, though the rumpled bed had been made. Her face hot as flame, she drew the bolt quietly and then raced to the window, her heart battering against her breast as she spied Jared's ship among a dozen still anchored in the sparkling bay.
My Runaway Heart Page 23