Moss Rose

by Scottie Barrett

  "Explain yourself," he growled.

  "My aunt was so desperate to ransom her husband from the French she was willing to risk anything."

  "Including her own niece."

  "For love? Of course," she answered, just before his mouth smothered hers with white-hot possession.

  ***

  Naked, Jensen curled cozily beneath the covers and watched her husband remove the flint box from his jacket pocket. It was silly to think of it as a ritual, but as he moved to light the cluster of candles on the nightstand, she couldn't help counting the nights they'd shared a bed and the times he'd lit the candles. Exactly ten . . . for each.

  Her eyes narrowed against the brightness of the small blaze. Levi shed his clothes and carelessly tossed them on a chair before sliding beneath the sheets. He'd insisted she wear nothing to bed and the truth was with a man radiating as much heat as he did lying next to her, a nightrail was definitely unnecessary.

  He propped himself on his elbow and looked down at her. This seemed a part of the ritual, too. The way he wordlessly stared into her eyes as though he were searching for an answer. Problem was, she found herself staring right back in a similar questioning manner. She knew though, what she was looking for in those intense gray eyes . . . a suggestion of love, even the tiniest glimmer would do, she thought miserably.

  Jensen, deciding to put an end to this futile exercise, threaded her fingers together behind his neck and pulled his face down to hers. She kissed the familiar sulk from his lips.

  There were differences tonight that weakened her ritual theory. His lovemaking, though always intense, took on a fierce, insatiable edge. He brought her to the point of delirious exhaustion.

  Unsure of when she'd dozed off and praying she hadn't in the middle of some intimate moment, Jensen rolled limply to her side. She felt like a rag doll. She smiled to herself, a completely satisfied rag doll. She scooted to his side of the bed only to find it empty. It took some effort to lift her heavy, lazy eyelids. The room was dark except for a thin halo of light fringing the curtains. Levi was yanking on his buckskins and a sudden, unreasonable fear jolted through her. Ridiculous, she chided herself, he wore those breeches when he tended his crops. Through drowsy eyes, she watched him take his pistol from the bureau and tuck it into the back of his waistband. Nothing unusual, she thought, but the fear was growing. When he strapped his knife across his chest, her stomach did a somersault. He was outfitting himself for war. Job well done, Mr. North, she congratulated him silently. Wear your wife out so she's too weak to protest when you go off to do your soldiering.

  A lump was forming in the back of her throat. "I see Captain Rogers has gotten his way." She swallowed hard. "Thanks mostly to my big mouth."

  Clamping her eyes shut to ward off the tears, she felt him tug at the coverlet. It skimmed over her tender nipples exposing her to the waist. She blinked up at him, grateful for the dusky light, which hid the tears slipping out of the corners of her eyes. With the back of her hands, she discreetly wiped away the moisture at her temples. He leaned over, the ends of his hair tickling her sensitive skin. His lips trailed butterfly soft kisses the length of her body. They were goodbye kisses. Scooping her into his arms, he turned and seated himself on the edge of the bed. Feeling the pressure of his arousal beneath her naked bottom, she squirmed a bit on his lap.

  "Jensen, don't move like that." His voice sounded rough.

  "Sorry, can't seem to get comfortable." His ardor had left her more sore than she'd realized.

  "It's my fault--I can't keep my hands off you."

  "I'm not complaining," she hurried to clarify.

  She traced the deep dimple punctuating his pleased smile. He dipped his head and bit her shoulder playfully then nibbled his way up her throat, over her chin to her lips. When he finally pulled away, her face felt raw from his rough beard and her lips tingled from his kisses. She rested her head against his shoulder. Combing her fingers through his black hair, she couldn't help thinking it felt softer to her fingertips than his suede jacket.

  With a shaky exhalation of breath he said, "I should take you with me. To keep an eye on you. Make certain you don't disappear again."

  A gossamer ribbon of hope twined its way around her heart. She nuzzled his jaw with her nose. "You should take me with you," she eagerly agreed. "I'm hardly to be trusted."

  She felt his body go rigid. He took hold of her shoulders and held her at a distance, staring hard into her eyes.

  "I was only jesting."

  His formidable glare did not abate.

  "Truly, it was a tease." Finally, she could feel his shoulders relax beneath her hands, but the flashing anger was replaced with wariness.

  "I would much prefer going with you than to be stranded here with Regina." Gently, she drew her finger along his jaw, listening for the comforting rasp of the stubble against her fingernail. Clearly, he had been jesting, too, there was no way he could take her with him. She tried a different tack. "Really, do you think it wise to leave the crops. Likely, Captain Rogers has assembled a competent crowd of soldiers by now."

  He laughed. "I may be unnecessary to his operation, but I gave my word. And as you said, my brother is completely capable. Besides, I'll only be gone a few months."

  To her aching heart, it sounded like a lifetime. "That's not so awfully long," she managed.

  "That's my Duff. Missing me already," he drawled in his most sardonic manner.

  He straightened and tossed her onto the bed. Her eyes had adjusted to the gray light and to her mind, he seemed a bit unsteady as he raked the hair back from his face.

  "Do not even consider leaving," he said with an odd catch in his voice.

  "'Twas a jest," she repeated softly.

  "Hell, it had better have been."

  Sitting up, she tucked her knees beneath her chin, and watched forlornly as he gathered up his things. To stop herself from begging him to stay, she bit her lip until it bled and watched as his tall form ducked out the door.

  Chapter 28

  It started as a rustling in the field, although not even a breeze ruffled the broad tobacco leaves. It was a stirring of hushed, excited voices. The murmurs were soon accompanied by the whoosh of satin and petticoats. Jensen set the heavy rock by her foot and turned toward the sun. She shaded her eyes from the blazing white light. And then she saw him. His bigness startled her, as it often did after a long absence. His shoulders seemed to fill the horizon. She swallowed hard. It felt like a fistful of gritty mud had lodged itself in her throat. Her husband strode toward where they were shoring up the riverbed, looking exactly as he had on the day he'd left with Rogers. Regina, as pretty and fresh as a newly plucked daisy in her yellow linen dress and matching parasol, held tight to his arm and hurried her steps to keep up with his long stride. Jensen cringed at the thought of her own attire, canvas breeches caked thickly with mud, a linen shirt that clung to her sweat-soaked skin, and to top it off, a kerchief tied under her chin holding a floppy brimmed hat to her head.

  "Thomas, hide me," she implored, but she knew it was already too late. Levi had spotted her and was picking his way over the rocks that littered his path.

  His escort quickly tired of navigating the treacherous course and reluctantly peeled her gloved hands from his arm. She urged him to come back to the house for refreshments. He did not even bother to respond, his gunmetal gaze remained riveted on Jensen.

  She stood as still as a statue as she watched him come. As he neared, she noticed the patches on his knee-high moccasin boots where the suede had been scuffed bald, the salt-stains on his once crisp, black neckcloth, and the rough slash through the sleeve of his wamus that had been repaired by an unskilled hand. And she noticed, too, the thin, white scar that tugged at the corner of his eye, a mark that somehow made him appear even more handsome.

  As his eyes slid over her, she thought that maybe it was truly possible to die of shame.

  "I sent word ahead that I was arriving today." His tone was accusing.
<
br />   She bowed her head, knowing what a pitiful sight she made. With frustration, she toed a rock with her boot. "I wasn't expecting you till later," she offered in her defense.

  She looked up into eyes narrowed ruthlessly. "Christ, you'd think once in a damn while you could go out of your way to please me." In that moment, all the happiness she'd felt at the sight of him evaporated. "Go back to the house and get cleaned up," he ordered.

  "Of course, Master--Levi." She'd even startled herself slipping back as she had into the role of indentured servant, but the look on his face was murderous. Before he could vent his fury, she scurried over the rocks, stumbling onto her hands and knees twice in her hurry to escape him. She fought back tears, wondering if the man she had once been so intimate with had returned a stranger.

  To her dismay, she found a dangerous looking group of men lounging on the benches and against the railing of the veranda. By their uniforms, a motley mix of Highlander, fur trapper and buckskin, she surmised that they were Rangers. She pulled down the brim of her hat and ducked her head, hoping to enter the manor without their notice.

  One big brute hitched his thumbs into his breeches and moved to block Jensen's path to the door. His stained undershirt reeked of sweat and rum. Jensen discreetly held her breath.

  "Lad, I believe the servant's entrance is around back," he said.

  Thinking it wiser not to argue, she nodded and turned in that direction, only to find herself slamming into her husband's unforgiving chest.

  "This, gentlemen, is my wife," he said, turning her back to face the rugged group of soldiers. The snickers died on their lips when they beheld his forbidding expression. Shaking his heavy hands off her shoulders, she gave the men a curt welcome before entering the house.

  Jensen attempted to slam the door twice before realizing Levi's large foot was blocking the threshold. "Ouch. I get through the war with all my limbs, and here at home I almost lose a foot." He kicked the door wide.

  She looked down at his boot. "'Tis those bloody, big feet of yours," she huffed and turned to walk away.

  "Where are you going? I want to talk with you."

  She had already begun her ascent of the stairs, and she stopped to glare down at him from the third step. "I was ordered to make myself more presentable."

  "Oh, you're angry with me?"

  "Heavens no, why would I be angry with you? Here I am working my bum off, tending your blasted plantation . . . ."

  "Our blasted plantation . . . ."

  "We haven't seen each other for months, and instead of a how are you darling--or thank you for keeping the place running so smoothly--or perhaps you didn't even notice that--you heave insults and orders at me. Now, how can I possibly be angry at that?"

  His hand slid up the banister and stopped just short of hers. "Ah, Duff, you know you're all I thought about while I was away. I burned leather getting here before nightfall. I foolishly thought you'd be anxious for my homecoming. It was a little disappointing to be greeted only by Regina, who did though at least take the trouble to dress for my arrival."

  She removed her hand from beside his and folded her arms across her chest. "The overseer's wife had a difficult birth, so I insisted he stay with her. Matthias has been in Williamsburg all week. So, silly-headed fool that I am, I decided that I could be of some use helping the men shore up the riverbed before the crops flooded."

  "I just wish . . . ."

  "What do you wish? That you'd never taken me from the Bordeaux Merchant, or perhaps that you'd left me with Brant in England. Or is it, Levi, that you wish you'd stuck with your original plans and married Andrea, after all. Perhaps that could still be arranged."

  "Are you mad, woman? What could be arranged?" His knuckles grew white as his grip tightened on the banister. "All I wanted, is for you to show me that you missed me, dammit."

  Tears beaded like tiny diamonds on her lashes. She stared at him for a long moment. "Funny, that's all I wanted from you, as well," she said, her husky voice cracking. He reached for her hand, but she ran from him.

  She took a very long time bathing and dressing, not eager to engage in another humiliating scene with her husband. It took her an eternity to choose what he might consider an appropriate outfit.

  Several hours later, she was standing against the wall of the parlor, hoping to fade into the wallpaper, but without luck. Almost instantly, she was surrounded by three rather aggressive males. The overpowering smell of leather, dust, and sweat made her feel slightly dizzy.

  "Who might you be sweet thing?" asked the Ranger that had mistaken her for a servant, earlier. With one hand resting on the wall above her head, he was so close she could see the leaves of tobacco that clung to his teeth.

  "My wife, Landers," Levi said from across the room. Clad in his stark black eveningwear, he lounged broodingly on the settee. His mouth twisted into a saturnine smile. "I do believe I've already made the introductions."

  His tone was so sullen and hostile, Jensen refused to peer in his direction. She nearly had to laugh, though, when she saw how the men reacted to her husband's words. They stepped back from her as if they had been balancing on the edge of an abyss.

  Politely excusing herself, she was glad to find that the ill-mannered Rangers were not their only guests. Captain Sanderson of the Ebony Rose was leaning against the hearth quietly sipping a brandy. Smiling, she made her way toward the Captain, past her husband, barely sparing him a glance as she lifted her skirts so they would not brush against his long legs.

  Levi watched as his wife's head nodded in animated agreement as she spoke to Sanderson. His grip tightened on his tumbler of whiskey. His enticing, little wife was purposely torturing him by keeping her distance. He inwardly groaned with need, as with each tilt of her head her heavy golden hair fought loose from the restraining pins. With tantalizing slowness, it cascaded down her back to sway gently at her hips. He wanted to kick the teeth in of the two rangers that dove to pick up the jewel-topped pins that lay scattered at her feet. Draining the glass, he consoled himself with the knowledge that he was the only man with the privilege of running his fingers through her luxuriant tresses. With a well-placed nudge of his boot, Levi sent the man nearest him sprawling on his backside.

  "Levi!" Jensen rebuked him.

  He grabbed a handful of satin and propelled her into his lap. "So you do remember my name."

  She placed a finger on the scar next to his eye. "This was a bit close. Is this the only new one?"

  "As far as I know. Maybe you'd better check just to be sure." A wolfish grin played on his lips.

  "Curious, I was thinking the exact same thing."

  His hand discreetly stroked the small of her back as he ushered her out of the room. "If you'll excuse us," was all he said to his guests in parting.

  With every step they climbed, he undid another button on the back of her bodice until her hand was the only thing preventing it from falling off.

  His arms encircling her waist, he lifted her a foot off the ground, pressing her thinly clad back against his chest as he ran hot kisses from her collarbone to her throat, his glossy black hair spilling over her shoulder to brush her breasts. She tilted her head back to give him better access. He groaned and hurried her through the bedchamber door.

  "Duff, you are delicious." The compliment was delivered in such a fierce tone, she found herself backing away from him. She knocked over the silk fireplace screen, collapsing it into the hearth with a tinny clang. His arms easily spanned the distance between them.

  With rising anticipation, she watched as his long fingers peeled off her bodice. Her eyes still lowered, she watched as he loosened the lacing of her corset.

  He sighed and shook his head, his eyes focusing with hot intensity on her breasts as he parted the panels of her corset, his sun-browned hands a tantalizing contrast against her pale golden skin.

  She began peeling off his shirt, smoothing it over his broad shoulders. "I was to check for scars, remember?"

  "If you fin
d any new ones, I will hold you half to blame."

  Her fingers skimmed over his hard-muscled chest. "And how is that?"

  "You are not exactly the right choice of wife for a soldier."

  "More insults," she gasped.

  His callused fingers gently pinched her dusky nipples, tugging her forward. "I could not put you out of my mind." His hot mouth ran a delectable trail up her throat. "I've been four months without you, wife. Say something-nice, darlin'."

  "If you wanted romance, you married the wrong woman," she teased him, but it was obvious by the way his sensual lips pulled down at the corners that he was not the least bit amused to hear his own words echoed back at him.

  "That wasn't kind, Duff," he stated matter-of-factly. He shook his head again. "Not kind at all." His hand cupped a soft golden breast, his thumb circling the nipple until it puckered, and then he lowered his head to pull it gently between his teeth. When he began to suckle her, she moaned softly, arching her breasts so he would take more of her into his carnivorous mouth. Feeling as though she might melt into a puddle at his feet, she steadied herself by holding on to him, her small hands barely encompassing a quarter of his powerful arms.

  "I missed you," her voice was little more than a breathy whisper. "You won't be leaving again, will you?"

  "I think we're both home for good."

  Tentatively, she fingered the ring strung on the leather thong around his neck. His long black lashes lifted, he searched her face.

  Foolishly, she held her breath, waiting, but it was clear when his mouth captured hers he had no intention of trusting her with the ring again. The kiss was sinfully delicious, and it very nearly made her forget the words of love she'd been yearning to hear.

  His fingers deftly stripped her of all her remaining garments except her silk stockings and satin slippers. He propped her atop one snugly clad leg.