Moss Rose

by Scottie Barrett

  She pushed herself off his body and stood quickly. Eustacia nudged Jensen's back with her muzzle, and she turned around to ruffle the animal's mane affectionately. "Haven't you even the sense to feel embarrassed, you daft horse?"

  She felt the heat of Levi as he moved to stand behind her. His long brown fingers following hers, combing a slow trail through the horse's pale mane. She had to remind herself to breathe.

  "It's a wonder you can have such feeling for horses. Especially after one was responsible for the death of your betrothed."

  "My betrothed?" she said taken off guard. She turned her face to look at him. His menacing glower jarred her memory. "Oh yes . . . . Well . . . I convinced myself t'wasn't the horse's fault."

  "It must have been terrible to watch him die in agony."

  There was a harshness in his tone she found disturbing. Danger seemed to radiate from him like searing heat. She ducked quickly under his arm to put distance between them.

  She cleared her throat. "Aye. 'Twas heart-wrenching to see that big, strong man withering away to nothing."

  His mouth snaked into a wicked smile.

  Suddenly, feeling very uneasy, she took a discreet step backwards. He followed her like a magnet. For every step he took toward her, she took two steps back.

  "I can see in your eyes how painful it must have been for you," he drawled. "By the way, what did you say his name was?"

  "Brant--Brant Mansfield," Jensen stammered under his scrutiny.

  With the speed of a steel trap, he had her back against the wall, her wrists pinned above her head with one of his big hands. Her legs felt as weak as water.

  He lowered his face so that it was a mere breath away from hers. "Strange, but I just finished talking to Brant Mansfield, and he communicates damn well for a corpse."

  A hazy image that had flitted at the edge of her consciousness suddenly clarified. Before veering Freedom toward the pasture, she had caught a glimpse of an approaching carriage flanked by red uniformed outriders.

  The blood seemed to pool in her feet. Her knees trembled uncontrollably. Unable to stand, her body sagged. Her hands tingled painfully as he jerked her sharply upright.

  "Does he know I'm here?" she asked in panic.

  "I wanted to see what you had to say for yourself, first." His thumb rubbed intimately along her trembling lower lip. "What's the matter, you don't seem pleased, Jensen? I thought you'd be flattered that he followed you here, isn't that what you wanted all along?"

  "Exactly," she agreed, thinking it easier to agree than argue, even if she made herself seem like a shrew, wanting nothing more than to bring a man to heel. She watched as his gray eyes turned glacial.

  "At this moment, Mansfield is in my parlor, no doubt helping himself to another glass of my French brandy," he snarled as he released his hold so abruptly her knuckles struck the wall.

  She rubbed life back into her tingling arms. "Mr. North--"

  His hand smothered her mouth. "Don't even speak. Every word that comes out of your mouth is a lie."

  She smacked his hand away. "I only take pleasure in deceiving you, Master North. And Lord, 'tis an easy thing to do." Her green eyes flashed malevolently.

  "Bitch." His voice was a low growl.

  Trying to appear unconcerned, Jensen slapped the hay and dust from her breeches. She felt as though her heart were breaking. The sickening thought of having to face Brant Mansfield couldn't compare to the anguish she felt knowing that the man she loved thought her a despicable liar.

  "Brant always did love a good brandy." She marveled at the airy, frivolous tone she managed.

  With a sneer, he turned his back to her and walked briskly out the stable. She followed close on his heels.

  "I will not meet him looking like this. I insist you allow me time to get cleaned up."

  He stopped short, sending her stumbling into his back.

  "Like a bloody brick wall," she muttered to herself as she pushed away from him.

  He turned to look at her, folding his arms across his chest. "Thinking to pretty yourself up for the Captain, are you?" The corners of his lips pulled down sulkily. "You actually think I'm going to hand you over to him, don't you?"

  "I know you aren't going to just hand me over. I assure you, Brant has enough money to repay my paltry debt," she said and then clamped her mouth shut, thinking herself a complete fool for parting with that particular piece of information.

  He dragged his hand through his hair. His eyes locked with hers for a long moment before he turned and headed again in the direction of the manor.

  Once more, she dogged his steps. "I imagine Brant will be quite furious with me."

  "Damn it to hell." He stopped abruptly a second time, causing her to slam again into his unforgiving body. This last collision brought stinging tears to her eyes. "Believe me, darlin', he's not the one you have to worry about." The muscle of his jaw twitched with anger.

  She bit her trembling bottom lip with her teeth and shrugged with pretended indifference.

  "You're such a maddening wench, I don't know why I'm bothering to keep you."

  His words did not register at first.

  "You're keeping me?"

  "Sorry to disappoint you," he said with irritation. "But, you're staying here---with me."

  Before she could stop herself, she jumped up, throwing her arms around his neck. She pressed a kiss to his sulky lips. His arms immediately circled her. Astonished at her own boldness, she quickly scrambled out of his hold. His fingers snagged the waistband of her breeches and hauled her back.

  "If I'd known you would be this grateful . . . ." The tip of his tongue traced a silky path over her lips before his mouth covered hers in a slow, tantalizing kiss. Cupping her bottom, he molded her against his hardened arousal.

  "So, he's the reason you're hiding in Virginia."

  "One of the reasons," she said, catching her breath. Her fingers curled into his shirt.

  His head lowered again and touched her lips with a long shivery caress of a kiss, laden with such sweetness and warmth she melted against him.

  "Duff, do you have any idea how much I want you?"

  A revoltingly familiar voice coming from the direction of the manor shattered the spell completely. "My God, it is him," she cried and shoved away from Levi. She tore off in the direction of the servant's entry.

  Chapter 20

  Responding to Matthias's summons, Jensen crept down the hall, petrified of running into Levi, afraid she might lose control and hurl herself into his arms again.

  She nearly fell over a side-table in the drawing room when she saw the top of his black head above the chair back. Absorbed in his newspaper, he didn't seem to notice her entrance. Unfortunately, Matthias did.

  "Jensen, there you are." Matthias crossed the room, eager to greet her. She was acutely aware of a newspaper being folded. "I need your help in digging up some old land grants from the office archives. Actually, from the office crates," he added with a charming smile.

  "She doesn't have time for that. I'll find the damn papers."

  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Levi had risen from his chair.

  "You're leaving for the militia muster, and Haywood is expecting the records by Friday. It's crucial we find them, unless you're willing to lose the river property to that bastard, Mead."

  "Why don't we leave it up to Jensen." He turned to Jensen and cocked his brow.

  Damn his expressive eyebrows, she thought. It was obvious that he didn't want her to go, and so, stubbornly she said, "Yes. That will be fine, sir. I'll meet you there around six?" She favored Levi with a sweetly mischievous smile, not prepared for the dangerous look he gave her in return.

  "Perfect!" Matthias said with a smirk for his brother.

  After spending two evenings rummaging through dusty, spider-ridden crates for the elusive land grants and deflecting Matthias's none too subtle passes, Jensen begged Celia to switch duties with her. Celia seemed almost eager to comply, even after J
ensen warned her that Matthias seemed in a particularly flirtatious mood.

  Jensen watched Celia swinging her ample hips, a broad grin on her face as she left to help with Matthias's search. Taking up the large kitchen basket, Jensen sauntered down the path to the root cellar to collect potatoes, turnips, and carrots for Cook's pork stew.

  The cellar was to the rear of the kitchen. It was dug eight feet deep with double doors that lay flush with the ground. Narrow stone steps led down to the dark, dank space. The icehouse incident still fresh in her mind, Jensen left one of the doors open to let the fading sunlight into the windowless room.

  Taking the tinderbox out of her deep apron pocket, she lit the lantern hanging on the stairwell wall. It emitted a frail, flickering light. The cavernous room was instantly filled with spectral shadows.

  Jensen stood in the frigid air, wishing she had worn her warm leather breeches instead of her maid's uniform. The tomblike atmosphere made her skin crawl. Hurrying from one vegetable barrel to the other, she filled her basket to the brim. She was so anxious to leave that she'd nearly forgotten the jars of pickles she was to get. Too short to reach them on her own, she shoved the rickety bench over to the wall and climbed on it.

  The cellar door closed with a creak. Jensen startled and dropped the huge jar, shattering it on the stones. The dim lantern blew out, blanketing the room in utter darkness.

  Jensen's pulse began to race. She clambered down from the bench, her hands desperately flailing at the empty air. Stumbling blindly in the direction of the door, she tripped on the barrels in her path and then slipped in the puddle of pickle juice. She heard the heavy sound of footfalls. Suddenly, the candlelight flickered anew.

  Levi strolled casually toward her, the lantern dangling from his fingers. His face was cast in shadows, and his eyes looked as shiny and black as jet.

  "Didn't mean to scare you."

  He placed the lantern on a cabinet and walked carelessly over the broken glass, crunching it beneath the soles of his heavy black cavalry boots. His strong hands wrapped around her waist, lifting her away from the briny mess. It was obvious he'd just returned from his militia meeting because his captain's uniform was still powdered with trail dust.

  "So you switched duties with Celia," he said, stating the obvious.

  "Aye. Celia owed me a favor. 'Twas not my idea of fun to shuffle through stacks of ancient papers."

  He took a wry look around the gloomy cellar. "And this is?" he said with a laugh.

  Caught in a half-truth, she fumbled with her apron. "I'm sorry to say, but I don't think your brother was merely interested in having me help him find those deeds." She had lowered her voice to a near whisper.

  "You don't say?" He seemed to ponder the question as he rubbed his jaw. "And what else had he in mind, do you think?"

  Detecting the glint of amusement in his eyes, she refused to answer his question. "Cook is expecting me," she said abruptly and walked away from him. She attempted to lift the basket of vegetables only to discover she'd overloaded it.

  As she straightened up, she found his hard body directly behind her. She could feel the heat of him through her rough woolens.

  "So you haven't succumbed to my brother's charms?" She shivered as he lifted the hair from the nape of her neck, brushing his lips lightly over her skin.

  "Your brother is charming, but he hasn't charmed me into his bed, if that's what you are implying? I feel nothing for him." His breath was warm against her chilled skin as his fingers threaded through her hair. "And I feel nothing for you, either," she added, her voice suddenly quavering.

  "Nothing? Are you certain?"

  "Quite certain," she said and gave lie to her words, leaning her head back against his shoulder as he ran his thumb deliciously along the rim of her ear.

  He grasped her roughly around the waist and swung her around to face him. "I tell you, I feel nothing for you." Her voice was devoid of all conviction now as she looked deep into his

  passion-filled eyes.

  "Little mouse, do be quiet." He bent his head, exerted gentle pressure on her chin, forcing her mouth open and proceeded to make love to her with his tongue.

  His hands followed the curves of her body and then cupped her bottom and lifted her off the ground to press her hard against his heavy arousal. She wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled his face closer to hers. She suckled the rough velvet of his tongue, and she heard the low groan in the back of his throat.

  "Damn," he muttered as he broke away from the kiss to peer into her flushed face. "If this is the way you kiss someone you don't care for, then I can only imagine . . . ." His words trailed off as he ran his tongue along her lush, lower lip. She moaned softly and pulled the leather thong from his hair, shoving her fingers into the midnight-black mass. Skillfully, he undid her laces and hooks and peeled off her bodice. It made a soft sound as it dropped to the stones. Radiating heat, his fingers loosened the drawstring of her chemise, sliding it off her shoulders. His eyes lowered to her breasts. Her nipples puckered under his admiring gaze, and he sighed heavily. "Jensen, you are just too damn luscious." His large, work-roughened hands surrounded her breasts, fingers teasing her taut nipples.

  Even in the wintry room, her skin prickled with the heat of his touch. She pulled her mouth away from his and unbuttoned his shirt, kissing his chest and relishing the salty taste of his skin on her lips. "Mr. North," she sighed as he bunched her skirts around her hips to stroke silken thighs, his fingers searing her naked flesh.

  "Call me Levi," he ordered, his voice gruff, but she could not bring herself to say it.

  With his big hands squeezing her bottom, he lifted her until her toes barely touched the ground. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Her breath shivered against his throat as she rubbed against him. "Jensen," he sighed into her hair, the gentle sound of his voice making her heart ache. Her treacherous body betrayed her, every touch of his melted her dwindling reserves more.

  She clutched at his heavily muscled shoulders as his gleaming black head lowered. He gently bit her nipple and then proceeded to suckle it. She arched her back so that he would take her further into his mouth. She felt her body surrendering to the devastating feel of his tongue laving her nipple. And then the ecstasy stopped.

  He abruptly lifted his head and dropped her to her feet.

  She expected to see his silver eyes clouded with passion, instead they were filled with rage. His fingers circled the slender column of her neck, his thumb tracing her pulse point. She did not flinch, she knew in her heart that he would never hurt her. His breathing grew ragged, and he muttered something in the harsh, guttural language she'd heard him speak with Malaton.

  He dropped his hand from her throat and shook his head. "You are a lying, little whore." She felt herself shrink away from his savage words. He was staring at her with something akin to hatred. "Played me for a damn fool, my oh-so innocent maiden."

  The tears damned up behind her lowered lids as she fumbled to retie her drawstring.

  "I was actually thinking of giving it all up for you. The lands. Andrea." He reached down and picked up her bodice and thrust it at her. As she took it from him, she backed further away, nearly toppling herself over the low bench in her path. Instinctively, his hand shot out to catch hold of her wrist.

  She wrenched it free and hurried to the other side of the cellar to finish dressing. For the life of her, she couldn't seem to remember how to refasten her bodice lacings. She was crying with frustration now.

  "I shall sell your contract tomorrow." His voice was now dangerously calm.

  "'Tis the best of news," she sniffled. She managed to tie her bodice string into a semblance of a bow. Walking over to the basket of vegetables, she struggled to lift it. When it wouldn't budge, she kicked it hard. A few turnips tumbled onto the ground, and she kicked them, too. "I quit," she shouted.

  "You what?"

  She turned on the dark, hulking figure. "I quit. I will not lift another finger for you, Maste
r North." Her husky voice was hoarse with pain.

  She sped past him, her smooth soled boots skidding on the stones. She clambered up the steps and out into the dying light. At the servant's entrance, she turned and saw with relief that he hadn't followed.

  Jensen fled to her room and burrowed beneath the quilt. Curling her knees to her chest, she cried herself to sleep.

  ***

  Jensen squinted at the gray morning light streaming into the small room. Celia was smoothing her pinafore as she watched through the parted curtains, her warm breath making clouds on the pane.

  "Jensen, you'd better hurry. Didn't you hear the bell?"

  "What bell?" Jensen swung her legs over the bed and rubbed the sleep from her tear-swollen eyes.

  "It's the one they ring when there's trouble. I've only heard it once before, when the kitchen caught fire. We're to meet on the front steps." She stopped to look in the small mirror and twisted each corkscrew curl tight around her finger before arranging them becomingly around her face. Her cheeks were pink with excitement.

  "You went to bed so early last night, you missed all the excitement. Mr. North started an awful, bloody fight with his brother," Celia said, relishing the fact that she had found someone to recount the story to. "Maggie told me she'd never seen them fight, not even when they were lads . . . ," she continued.

  Jensen, still half-asleep, stumbled into her skirt. "What on earth would they have to fight about?"

  "A woman, of course." She gave Jensen a knowing smirk. "Mr. North was pacing the drive in the pitch black. We were watching from the door, and when his brother rode up, he dragged him off the horse. Poor Matthias just lay on the ground cursing him. When Levi kicked him in the ribs with those big, black boots of his, yelling at him to 'get the hell up', the lad looked thunderstruck. But after Levi fisted him in the stomach a couple of times, Matthias was in a fury."

  "Didn't anybody try to stop it?"

  "Well, it was quite a sight. Everyone came from the house carrying what candles they could, and when Thomas and the men came near, Levi told them, 'Interfere, and you're next,'" Celia said, her eyes animated.