by Shea,Lisa
His breath blew out of him in a sharp huff. “I could never have left you of my own free will,” he swore. “And now that I have returned, if you will have me, I will never leave your side.”
She blinked in surprise. “If I want you? Not a day has gone by that I did not long for you, rail against you for leaving me, and desperately pray for your safe return.”
With one hand she held out the coin and chain, and with the other she swept up her hair, holding it up off her neck.
His eyes became distant, almost awed, and then he was releasing the clasp, stepping forward to place his hands along her neck as he fastened it in place. She settled the token down against her chest, then looked up at him, her eyes glowing with overwhelming joy.
He loved her.
She raised her lips to his, and he hesitated for a long moment, as if fearing this all a dream which would evaporate at first test. Then their lips met, and they were kissing, their bodies melding, his lips moving with fire from her mouth to her neck, his hands easing down her hips and moving to slide her red dress up over her head, leaving her in her white chemise. Then he was drawing her in hard again, kissing her with even more passion, and she could barely breathe with the fire that flamed within her.
She dropped her hands to his belt, pulling at the tongue, but something about the latch would not release. The desire welling within her made her hands clumsy, and she gave it a yank to try to get it free.
Berenger’s hands came down suddenly over her own, and she looked up at him in confusion. He had an odd, shadowed look in his eyes, and he stared down at her for a long moment.
“Have you never undressed a man before?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
Jessame flushed bright crimson with her ineptitude. “Well, my father always had Rudyard,” she explained in embarrassment. “I am sure I can figure out …”
Berenger’s face went pale. “But your profession, the way you have been earning money and tracking down Sabina’s killer …”
Jessame looked down, her blush deepening. “Well, I never actually went through with anything,” she softly admitted. “The most any man got was the kiss Hosea stole before you rescued me.”
A gentle hand was on her chin, and Berenger lifted her head to look at him. His eyes were shining with wonder.
“And here I was going to tumble you in the heat of passion,” he murmured hoarsely. “When you deserve …”
Jessame stepped forward, pressing herself against the length of his body. “I have been waiting for you for ten long years,” she ground out, her voice thick with passion, “and we are now officially betrothed. If you are planning on making me wait one minute longer …”
His hands were at his belt, the scabbard went clattering to the floor, and then they were entwined in the bed, utterly lost to the world.
Chapter 13
Jessame slowly drifted up from sleep, a delightful lassitude filling her limbs, a warmth which seemed to blossom from within. There was a heaviness across her chest, and she blinked her eyes open.
Berenger’s body lay sprawled next to her own, his arm wrapped possessively across her torso. His body was lean and muscular, and the sight of it sent a shiver of longing tracing down into the core of her body. He watched the emotions play across her face, his smile growing in understanding.
His voice called to her as a lush siren song. “Good morning, my love.”
Her heart glowed at the words, and she leant forward to brush a kiss across his lips. “A very good morning,” she agreed hoarsely.
He returned the kiss, tenderly at first, then more passionately. Soon they were tumbling and drifting and losing themselves in each other, in the joy and delight of all they had dreamt of. It was a long while before their breathing had slowed and they were once again thoroughly intertwined in each other’s arms.
Berenger brushed a tendril of hair back from her face, gazing down at her with a warm gaze. “I still cannot quite believe you are real,” he murmured. “For so long you have been present only in my dreams.”
Jessame smiled up at him. “And you in mine,” she agreed. “We will have to remind ourselves that this is our new daily life.”
Berenger nuzzled against her neck. “I might need reminding often,” he chuckled.
There was the noise of sturdy footsteps coming up the path. In a flash Berenger rolled over on top of her, shielding her with his body. He reached down, pulling the covers over them both.
In a moment, Roger’s curious face appeared in the window. “Berenger? Are you in there? I thought you might like me to take over for you…” His eyes came down to meet theirs and he gave a strangled cry before turning and hurrying away from the window.
Jessame burst out in laughter, and then Berenger was at the window, drawing the shutters closed. They both grabbed at their clothing, dressing quickly. Berenger waited until she nodded her head before drawing the bar and opening the door. He offered his arm to her, and she took it as they stepped outside.
Roger’s face was glowing scarlet as they came out to stand before him. “I am so sorry,” he murmured. “I had no idea that you were … occupied.”
Jessame smiled gently at him. “It was sweet of you to come by to check on me,” she offered.
Roger nodded. “I just thought, with Berenger having put in time to watch over you, that he might like me to take a turn.”
Berenger’s eyes flashed, and Roger took a step back. “Of course, I see now that that was not necessary,” he hastily corrected.
Berenger’s shoulders eased slightly, and a smile crept across his lips. “Not necessary at all,” he agreed. “She will be well looked after. I will be escorting her back home, to where she will be safe.”
Jessame tensed slightly, and he looked down in concern. “Surely you cannot stay here,” he added tightly.
A long moment passed as she clung desperately to her plan. After all she had invested in making this work, surely she could not abandon it now? Was there no way to see this through to the end?
Roger was gazing at her with curiosity, and at last she sighed, nodding in resignation. Berenger was right after all. Once word got around that he was watching over her, and even spending the night at her cottage, she could no longer serve any purpose as bait. It made the most sense for her to return home, and for them to plot a new plan of attack.
“Yes, I suppose you are right,” she agreed with a sigh, stubbing her toe into the soft dirt. “Once I am resettled, we can figure out what to do next.”
His shoulders relaxed, and he brushed his fingers tenderly against her cheek for a long minute. “Thank you,” he murmured.
She glanced around to the cottage which had become her home. She would miss this place, this quiet, peaceful sanctuary she had created. “I will need a few hours, if I will be shuttering the cottage,” she mused, looking across the row of rose bushes. “I would want to take these plants back with me, as well as my belongings.” She blushed slightly. There was barely anything within the small building. She hesitated to admit just how few possessions her own home had, and how every stick of furniture here was of value to her.
Berenger nodded without hesitation. “Whatever help you need to move, I will gladly assist to get it done quickly and smoothly.” He looked over at Roger. “Perhaps I could borrow that wagon of yours?”
Roger smiled, looking between the two with a growing smile. “Of course, it would be my pleasure. You may have it for the whole afternoon, if you need it. That should be plenty of time for you to get back and forth to Berenger’s home.”
Jessame blushed. She realized that Roger thought she was already moving in with Berenger, becoming his kept mistress. It would be a natural progression for a woman in Besame’s position.
She pressed her lips together, holding back any reply. Perhaps this was a good thing. If she had to leave the cottage, the mistress story was a reasonable enough cover for now. It would tide the village over until she and Berenger could talk through their options and decide what pa
th was best to take next.
She glanced again at the rose bushes. “It will probably take me until just after noon to have those out of the ground and ready to move,” she informed the two men.
Roger’s eyes brightened as a thought occurred to him. “Bringing the wagon by in a few hours would work out perfectly. Lady Cavendish sent word that she wanted a piece of furniture repaired. Berenger and I could swing by and pick that up, then once that was back at the shop we could continue on here and pack up Besame for her trip.” He smiled indulgently. “Once we had the wagon set and filled, I imagine you two could take it from there.”
Jessame looked up at Roger in gratitude. She imagined that he did not want to intrude on her moving in with Berenger, on the tender feelings which might come into play during that process. However, his plan meant that she and Berenger could safely get her possessions to her own home without being seen.
“That sounds perfect,” she agreed in relief.
Berenger gazed down at her, and time drew to a stop. His voice was rough as he drew closer to her. “I will miss you every moment I am away,” he murmured, drawing a hand along the side of her cheek.
“Then hurry back,” she whispered teasingly to him, leaning forward to give him a gentle kiss, brushing her lips against his.
He gave a soft groan, then nodded, heading out with Roger at his side into the streaming morning sunshine.
Jessame got right to work. She wanted to have everything ready by the time Roger and Berenger returned from their task. First she went inside the cottage, giving the room a thorough scrubbing down with rag and water. She wanted to leave it cleaner than she found it. She gathered up her few items and lay them on the straw mat.
Then, that done, she headed out to work on the roses.
Jessame knelt in the rich dirt in front of her cottage, gazing at her flower bed with immense satisfaction. The small rose bushes, with their rippled crimson petals, would look absolutely gorgeous along either side of the stone steps of her family home. She had no doubt that her father would appreciate their aroma in daily bouquets. The lush color and rich fragrance would add a fresh joy to his world.
Bright hope kindled within her as she looked across the row of blooms. Berenger would be coming to her home. With his help, maybe they could even get some of the issues around the outside of the house repaired. There were the stones falling out of the first floor foundation. The shutters which had become loose on the second floor might finally be sealed up properly. Perhaps even the fence ringing the meadow could be repaired, so his horse could enjoy a run when Berenger came to visit.
Jessame’s mouth pursed for a moment. Berenger’s help would need to be restricted to the outside areas of the home. He could not come inside, of course. The house was in too rough a shape for him to see that.
She did not even consider having Berenger meet with her father. That had to be prevented at all costs. She had already lost Berenger once. She would not do anything at all to risk that happening again. No, Berenger would stay on the outside of their front door, and that was that.
She smiled, accepting her decision. He could help with some outside repairs, and step by tiny step, she could see improvement.
She dug her trowel into the soft soil, carefully feeling around the edge of the roots. She wanted to do this transplanting just right. The bush was settled into its current home, as rough as it was, and she wanted to be gentle with it. It would take love and attention before the roses could be made comfortable in their new location. She knew that with time the flowers would blossom and thrive.
One of the roots was unexpectedly thick, and she leant over, focusing on it with attention. Surely it knew she had its best interests in mind? If it would just release its stubborn grasp, she could help it into a new world, one which would be full of joy and sunshine.
A shadow loomed over her, and she smiled in delight, warmth thrilling through her. Berenger was back. He had returned to her; everything was going to be all right.
A sturdy cudgel swung down with whistling speed toward her head, and she desperately dove to her right. The blow landed hard on her left shoulder, and she plowed fully into the soft dirt, the impact causing all else to vanish from view.
Chapter 14
Jessame could barely breathe; her face was half wedged into the moist dirt of her rose garden, and she felt the rough brambles and sticks of the plants all around her. An intense floral scent infiltrated her nose. It was rose, and something else.
A shadow loomed darkly above her, and a single mantra throbbed in her brain.
He always strikes twice.
He always strikes twice.
There was a whistling motion, and she waited a beat before she pushed herself hard to the right, the blow barely missing her ear, coming down with a powerful force against her left shoulder. The pain sent a wave of red before her eyes, and it took every ounce of her energy to bite down on the scream which welled within her. She knew with absolute clarity that she had to play dead. His pattern was that he hit his victims twice, then left. If she could just convince him that he had succeeded, then she would be all right.
There was a movement above her, and she closed her eyes to the merest slits, praying with every ounce of her being for him not to attack again. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she forced every limb to stay exactly where it was.
A hand was moving before her face, careful not to touch her in any way. She instantly held her breath. The hand stayed before her mouth and nose for several long moments, and then her attacker gave a satisfied snort.
There was a movement just above her, and then a ripping pain on either side of her neck. She remained perfectly still, imagining she was a stone, that her statue limbs were completely immobile.
A long moment which seemed an infinity. And then, to her thrilling hope, there was a footstep moving away from her, and then two, and then they came in quick succession as the attacker strode down the path toward the village. Her heart thrilled in effervescent relief. He was gone. He had left, and she was alive, alive!
She waited many long minutes until even the memory of the footsteps were long distant. She would not give him the slightest indication that she had a hint of life left in her. In doing so, she would live.
Finally there was only the soft warbling of a robin and the drifting of breeze through the willows. Exhaustion rolled down on her and a throbbing pain sounded strongly from her shoulder. She had to get up, to take stock of her injuries.
She gave herself a push against the hard dirt. Immediately, agonizing pain screamed from her shoulder, overwhelming her with its power, and golden lightning bolts flashed across her eyes. She landed in a hard thud back against the ground, her shoulder impacting in the dirt, and deep blackness slammed down on her.
*
There was shouting, and a thundering of feet, and she was gently rolled over onto one side. The pain was excruciating, and it was all she could do not to scream out, to keep her utterances to tightly held in moans. She could barely open her eyes, so caked they were with tears and dirt. Then she was being hefted up into strong arms, carried over to a wagon, and laid gently within it.
The person had barely climbed in beside her when the wagon lurched into quick motion, bumping and creaking over a path. She cried out as the wagon jarred hard over a rut, and a warm body drew her in against it, cradling her. She released herself against its safe comfort.
Another hard jostle, another scream of pain, and the blackness plunged her into oblivion.
*
Jessame blinked herself awake. Late afternoon sun was streaming in through a window, and she stared at the golden flow for a long while, caught up in the sparkling motes of dust which floated in the air. Beyond, the pale blue sky seemed flawless and serene. It was a long time before she could bring herself to turn, to look around her.
The room was completely unfamiliar to her. It was small, its rough-hewn walls and beamed floor and ceiling showing signs of age. There was a door to her right
, the window to her left, and a battered trunk on the forward wall.
Her eyes drew up above the trunk, then stopped. Nailed into the stone in several locations were ink drawings. Of her.
Several had been done when she was fairly young. There was her astride her favorite horse, staring off into the sunset. Another had her on the grey rock by the fishing pond, focused on the line before her. A third had her laying on her back in the meadow, staring up at the night sky, a smile on her lips.
Then there were several others, done in later years. She might have been fifteen in one, but the elegant dress she wore was unlike any she’d ever owned. In another she could have been eighteen, astride a fantastic Arabian steed which she could only imagine having ridden.
In each image there was a fish woven into the details. Her elegant dress had a tracery of fish design along the hem. The night constellation was of Pisces.
The door pressed open and Berenger stepped into the room. His face relaxed into relief as he met her eyes, and he was kneeling beside her in a moment, taking her hands in his.
“You are awake, thank God,” he murmured, lowering his lips to her hand.
Jessame was brought back immediately to the attack, and her heart began to race. “How long have I been out for?”
“A day,” he responded, drawing a hand tenderly across her forehead. “Your shoulder was dislocated. I was able to reset that for you while you were unconscious. It did not seem that there were any other serious injuries.”
Jessame gave a tentative shrug to her shoulder and found that it was tightly bandaged. There was a dull throbbing, but nothing more.
Berenger’s voice was tight. “What happened? Do you remember?”
Jessame searched her memory. “There was a shadow, and then a blow,” she murmured, seeking for any sign, no matter how remote, of who could have done this to her. “The person did not say one word. After the first blow, my sole thought was to stay still, and to somehow prevent the second blow from hitting my head.” She nudged at her shoulder again, relieved that it seemed to respond to her motion. “Once that was done, that seemed to be it. The attacker left without bothering me further.”