"Oh, wonderful, now I'm your charity case. Well, this just keeps getting better and better." She bravely met his glare, despite the tremors that ran through her body. "I'd prefer being penniless than being married to such an arrogant man. And as for your promise to my uncle, I assure you that once he had your money, it wouldn't have mattered to him if I'd ended up as fish bait during the voyage."
His eyes hardened, and for a moment, he looked as though he would like to throttle her.
"God's truth, you are a hard-headed woman." Levi wound a thick lock of her hair around his hand and tugged her head back. He slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her with such hunger, he took her breath away. Her fingers clutched at the leather fringes of his hunting jacket. He crushed her against his male hardness as his tongue made sensuous love to her mouth.
Yet again, she found herself powerless to resist him. He was the one that finally broke away. And to her dismay, she found he was smiling. In truth, he was grinning with satisfaction.
After he hoisted her onto the horse, she caught a glimpse of Rosy's dimly lit face peering out at her from the upstairs' window. She seemed to be smiling.
Levi vaulted himself up into the saddle behind her and gripped her tightly with one hand, snapping the reins with the other.
"I've made arrangements with the only preacher in this backwater region. It's almost a half day's ride from here," he said patiently, ignoring her elbow jabs.
"Ah, the wedding every little girl dreams of. Will I at least be allowed to run a comb through my hair?"
"If you wanted a fancy wedding, you should have stuck around."
"It's your fault. You took a bloody long time getting back. I could no longer endure Regina's insults. She insisted you were marrying me only out of a sense of duty. I have to give the devil her due, it seems she was right." She could kick herself for being so naive to think that he had actually cared a little for her. She struggled forward to avoid the press of his body. His arm circled her waist and moved her so that she was nestled tightly between his muscular thighs again.
"Regina . . . I should have known," he muttered.
She twisted in the saddle, the beginning of a smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. "It just occurred to me, Mr. North, that the preacher won't marry us without my consent."
He threw back his head and laughed loudly. "That drunk? Why, I need only pass a few pieces of silver across his palm, and he'd wed me to my horse."
Deflated, she turned back around. "You really know how to turn a girl's head."
"Ah, if it's romance you're after, I'm afraid you've got the wrong man."
"No romance. Then this is to be a marriage of convenience?" Jensen asked and held her breath as she waited for the answer.
"Most assuredly. Damned convenient for me to finally get you home and into my bed where you belong." She heard the laughter in his voice.
His soft, warm breath ruffled her hair. His thighs pressed possessively against hers, and he rested his chin on her head. Unbidden, the thought that she could very well live without romance, if he shared her bed, flitted through her mind.
***
At the door of the manor, Jensen tried to make herself invisible behind Levi's broad back, but Maggie's sharp eyes spied her immediately. "Master Levi, you are a sight for sore eyes. Is that Miss Jensen you've brought back with you, then?"
Levi put his hand back and drew Jensen to his side. "Jensen is now Mrs. North."
Jensen was amazed at how simply he uttered the words. Words that actually rendered Maggie speechless for a moment.
"Would you see to her bags," he said, as he put them down on the glossy wood entry.
Visibly gathering her wits, Maggie stuttered, "Sh-Shall I set up a guest room for her upstairs."
Levi's steely-gray eyes met Jensen's as he replied, "She's my wife, not my guest, Maggie. Have one of the men install a wardrobe and dresser in my chamber. In the meantime, Duff, why don't you go rest." He patted her waist familiarly and flashed her a roguish grin.
After bathing, Jensen dressed behind the bed curtains. Discouraged by Maggie's reaction, she had decided to hide herself in the room for the rest of the day. She searched Levi's bookshelf for something to read. Except for one slim volume of poetry, the books all concerned farming techniques and tobacco harvesting. Settling on a book entitled The Planter's Companion with some lovely etchings of plants and seedlings, she sat in the high back chair and began to read.
"So, you're already taking an interest in your husband's work, eh?" The deep voice penetrated her dreams. Her thumb still held the place, the book resting in her lap. Jensen rubbed her groggy eyes.
"What time is it?" She couldn't suppress the yawn that escaped her lips.
"Time for dinner. Why don't you go downstairs. I'll join you once I'm cleaned up."
"I won't be eating," she said with a pout. "You saw Maggie's face, she nearly had apoplexy. They'll never accept me."
His eyes were hard. "Make no mistake, Jensen, you will be having dinner with me tonight and every night I wish it, am I understood."
"Yes, Master North," she said petulantly.
Ignoring her anger, he removed his shirt and began lathering his face with soap, shaving in the looking glass above the basin on the washstand. Through lowered lashes, she admired his smooth tan skin and taut muscles.
Still half-naked, he walked to the dresser and carefully removed an item from the top drawer. "I have something for you," he said. He turned around, and Jensen gasped as she saw the familiar silver box balancing atop his palm. "Knowing how important this is to you, I was more than a little surprised to find that you'd left it at your aunt's home."
His surprise could have been no match for her own. For a long moment she just stared at the container. Then, with horror, she recalled the incriminating papers contained in its secret compartment, and her blood seemed to rush to her feet. Without another thought, she lunged at the box like a panic-stricken mockingbird protecting her egg from a thieving raven. Taken off guard by the way she pounced on him, Levi dropped the box, sending it crashing to the floor.
He crouched down. "What's this?" he asked. The latch that had held the hidden drawer had sprung on impact.
She made another futile move to snatch the box from him, but he brushed her hand aside. With a sharp jerk of his wrist, the drawer slid free, revealing the small, scrolled documents she'd forgotten to dispose of. His big fingers were not clumsy in the least as he quickly unfurled the parchment.
"'Tis private," she protested, her voice trembling with fear.
The way he looked at her, his gray eyes growing as turbulent as a storm tossed sea, said it all. It had taken him mere moments to realize what he held.
He straightened, glowering down at her now from his great height. "Here I thought you just a harmless, little liar, in need of having your wilder impulses tamed by a firm hand--but this, hell . . . ." He dragged his fingers through his hair and studied her through narrowed eyes, as though she were some unusual specimen he'd never seen before. "A treacherous, French spy. This is why you came to the colonies in the first place, isn't it?"
She backed away from him. "'Tisn't what you think."
"Hell, yes, it's exactly what I think."
She caught the flash of the flint and watched as the paper he held between his thumb and forefinger flamed. The ashes floated to the ground.
"I can explain."
"Who else knows about this?" he asked as though she hadn't spoken at all. He crossed the room and kicked aside the fireplace screen, tossing the remnants of the burning parchment into the hearth. "I asked you a question, wife. How many people know you to be a traitor?"
"I am not a tr--"
His powerful hands grabbed her arms, pulling her toward him with such force that he left her gasping for breath. His grip tightened painfully as he lowered his face to hers. "How many others know about this?"
Aware of the iciness that lay beneath his deceptively mild tone, she felt her throat constr
ict.
"Levi, please," she pleaded in a thready whisper, "you are hurting me."
He looked down at the viselike grip he had on her arms and released her immediately. She watched as he turned and walked over to the window. He placed a hand on either side of the glass, and for the first time, she saw his broad shoulders slump as if in defeat.
"Pietro Duchamp," she blurted out. "He was my contact. He's a woodsman, a trapper, and sometime liaison for the French colonial army. And your friend Malaton . . . ." He swiveled his head, and the look of incredulity on his face caused her to stammer. "I--I cannot say he is involved--I will not accuse him--but he was there, he was with Pietro."
"What about Mansfield?"
"I never confided anything in that man."
"Or confided anything in me for that matter dammit."
A sickening silence filled the room. Jensen could not decide whether she should drop to her knees and beg his forgiveness or turn and run from him. Then she realized she could do neither. She stood without moving, feeling as though all of her emotions were melting from her body and flowing across the hardwood floor. And then he moved. Jensen closed her eyes for a moment, hoping that he would come to her, take her in his arms, and tell her he forgave her, but his embrace did not come. The bedroom door slammed loudly, and Jensen opened her tear filled eyes to an empty room.
Chapter 26
Jensen was looking forward to her first dinner as the new mistress of Moss Rose with about as much eagerness as she would an execution--even her own.
Alone, without her new husband to escort her, and still feeling nauseous from the whole sordid scene in the bedroom, Jensen entered the dining room.
Levi, making a half-hearted attempt at manners, rose slightly from his seat. Regina, of course, provided the icing on the whole nightmarish event. Her eyes, narrowed with distaste, followed Jensen's every move. Flanked on both sides by a scowling Hartwell, Matthias appeared to be the only person who seemed genuinely pleased to see her.
Because Levi hadn't even seen fit to pull out her chair, Regina hid a snicker behind her napkin. Jensen wondered if she should be grateful that at least her place at the table was above the salt.
"Levi, did I hear you tell Matthias you were leaving?" Regina asked, her eyes glittering with malice.
"Tonight, as a matter-of-fact. The Ebony Rose is leaving from port in a few days time, and I will be supplying the arms. I won't have those thieves laying a finger on my stock again."
"But on this night of all nights," Regina said in hushed tones on the pretense of being discreet. Even so, the statement and its implication seemed to reverberate through the room.
Jensen lowered her eyes as she felt her cheeks flood with color. So this is the way it was to be, she thought unhappily. She peered from beneath her lashes to find Matthias's eyes on her face. Lord, she thought with a stab of humiliation, there was pity for her in that weak smile of his.
"Jensen is well aware of what a trial it was to try to recover the last shipment. I'm sure she understands why I must see to this."
She nodded in sullen reply, refusing to meet his eyes.
Her appetite lost, Jensen proceeded to drink her dinner. After the second glass of claret, she felt as though she might even make it through the night without strangling Regina. She excused herself early from the table.
Once in the hallway, Jensen heard the dining room door open and close behind her. "I'd better help you upstairs so you don't break your neck." Levi's deep voice spoke over her shoulder, and she turned to confront him.
Her fingers grasped at his lapel as she tottered forward. "Oh leave me be," she said and pushed away from him. "Go and make certain the pirates don't touch any of your precious tobacco. Obviously, you would prefer to be anywhere but under the same roof as your traitorous wife." She lifted her skirts and walked unsteadily away.
***
Levi had stayed away for more than a week. Unsure of her place during his absence, she'd moved her things to an adjoining bedroom. Their one and only conversation since his return was about her living arrangements. "What, just next door?" he'd said, hovering dangerously in her doorway. "I'm surprised you didn't feel the need to move to the other blasted wing."
It was through Celia that she learned of an assembly they were to attend. The night of the party, Celia brushed her hair until it was lustrous and then piled it loosely atop her head, securing it with the pearl topped pins Jensen had brought with her from England. After pulling a few curling tendrils loose to frame Jensen's face, Celia admired her handiwork.
"You certainly have a clever touch. But it seems like a waste of your talent. No doubt, it will be a dreadful evening."
Celia leaned over, pressing her cheek against Jensen's. "The man won't take his eyes off you all evening."
Jensen heard footfalls in the hallway. Levi stopped in the doorway and leaned against the doorjamb.
"I'm nearly finished," Jensen said, regarding his reflection in her vanity mirror.
Celia squeezed past Levi.
"Thank you for the dress." Jensen looked down at the pale blue satin gown. She thought it the most beautiful dress she'd ever seen. Just above her elbows the sleeves were caught with garters of silver velvet studded with pearls that matched her pearl choker, the rather daringly cut bodice was edged with delicate lace. "Will I do?" she asked worriedly.
He stared at her silently for so long she was certain she'd displeased him again.
"Beautiful," he finally said. For an eternity his eyes seemed to linger on her face. At last, he offered his arm, escorting her out the door.
As they entered the Adairs's courtyard, Jensen found herself reluctant to leave the carriage. "It's not as bad as all that, Jensen," he said as he coaxed her down the carriage steps.
She clung to him as they entered the mansion. They followed Matthias and Regina down the long hallway, toward the sound of laughter and music.
The candlelight twinkled off every polished surface of the enormous ballroom. Music wafted on the heavily perfumed air. An elegant ensemble of musicians played lively melodies from a raised platform with an ornately carved balustrade.
Jensen had hoped to make an unobtrusive entrance, but all eyes swiveled to them as Levi led her into the room. Regina quickly flitted over to Andrea Trent, who was holding court with a bevy of society matrons in a corner of the cavernous room. Each one of them took their turn casting Jensen looks that could freeze a person's blood. Thankfully, many of the other guests made a great effort to be welcoming. Although Jensen knew that it was in deference to her husband, she was glad for it.
A man in militia garb strode toward them. "Mind if I borrow your husband for a moment," he said to Jensen, and then without waiting for her response, turned to Levi. "Rogers has been asking to meet you."
Levi lifted her chin with his finger. "Will you be alright?"
Surprised by the first tender gesture from him in days, she could only smile and nod her head. He pried her small fingers from his arm.
Feeling awkward standing alone, she readily accepted Stephen Trent's invitation to dance. From the ballroom floor, she spotted Levi in deep discussion with a group of men, three of them were clad in officer's uniforms, the other two wore a hodgepodge of military apparel. Defying etiquette, tam o'shanters sat rakishly atop their heads. Yet there was nothing else of the dandy about their appearance. They looked hard and weatherworn. The dark-haired man, a huge six-footer, wore hip-length gaiters beneath a green and russet kilt. There was something about the way the soldiers enthusiastically circled her husband that sent a chill of foreboding through her bones.
Desperate for fresh air, she moved out onto the balcony. She was dismayed when Stephen Trent followed her.
He handed her a wineglass. "I fear North is being pressured into joining another fool's campaign to rid the Ohio River of Frenchmen."
Jensen nearly dropped the crystal goblet. "So that's why those militia men haven't let him out of their sights all evening."
"Did you get a look at that Rogers chap? When he's not tormenting the French, he's combing the colonies for recruits. The Frogs have a hefty bounty on his head. Some of the Brits don't like him much either. Heard he took a hundred lashes for defying orders. Afraid it looks like he's got his sights on your husband."
The door opened, and Levi locked eyes with Stephen.
"North," Trent acknowledged him with a nod, but receiving no answering reply, stalked back inside.
The pale moonlight glinted off Levi's steely eyes.
"Don't look at me like that. 'Twas you who insisted I come tonight. Did you expect me to stand obediently by your side as you discussed your war plans with those soldiers." She fiddled with her silk gloves in an effort to conceal her trembling from his unflinching gaze.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, that is what I expected."
"Pardon me for trying to enjoy myself. I'll try not to let it happen again."
"Oh, I see, and to spend time with me would be unenjoyable."
"You are deliberately twisting my words," she said, her husky voice cracking with anger. "I knew this marriage was a mistake from the beginning. It seems I left one possessive, overbearing man for another. I'm surprised that you and Brant didn't get along better, seeing that you have so much in common."
Without warning, he took hold of the sides of her face and pressed his lips ruthlessly against hers. She gasped at the savagery of his kiss, and he drove his tongue deep into her captive mouth. Surrendering to the inextinguishable desire she had for him, she melted against him and rubbed her small tongue against his. He lifted his face, his eyes glazed with desire. "How easily you bend to me."
She kicked him with all her might, but her foot shod in a soft, kidskin slipper was no match for his rock-hard shin. "Bastard," she cried, rubbing her aching toes.
He took hold of her arm. "Let's not give them more to gossip about. Pretend to be my dutiful wife for the rest of the evening." He propelled her back to the raucous gaiety of the party.
She glanced around the room and hissed under her breath, "I have no wish to pretend such a lie. Just take me home."
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