Tempting Torment

by Jo Goodman

  "I should die of embarrassment if it would not prove so awkward," she told herself and the man who could not hear her. Heaving herself upright, Jessa untangled her legs and pulled Noah completely onto the bed. She just managed to miss being trapped by his arm as he rolled on his side. "Oh, no," she said, pushing him onto his back. "I've got to dress that wound again. And I think you need a poultice." Jessa slid off the edge of the bed and went into the other room to get more water and a fresh bandage, and to make the milk and oil poultice. When she returned, Noah was lying very still in the center of the narrow bed. Jessa's breath caught in her throat and she held it until she saw the faint rise and fall of Noah's chest. Hurrying to his side she placed the basin on the floor and began cleaning his wound.

  "Beautiful."

  Jessa's hand jerked away from Noah's skin and she blinked hard. What a thing for him to say! Not a particularly vain person, Jessa had an urge to look over her shoulder to see whom he was addressing. Instead she followed the path of Noah's gaze and was mortified to discover he was staring at her uncovered breast. "Oh! How dare you!" She quickly righted her shift, tying a knot in the shoulder to keep it in place. Jessa huffed, prepared to make further comment, then realized it would have been a waste of her breath. Noah's eyes were closed and he appeared to be sleeping again. She stared at him hard, testing the depth of his sleep. When he didn't move or even flutter his lashes, Jessa released the breath she was holding.

  Jessa continued her ministrations with deft assurance, but only a small part of her mind remained on the task. Noah's statement had left her more shaken than she was prepared to admit, even to herself. There had been so few occasions in her life when men had told her she was beautiful that Jessa was suspicious of the lavish compliment. It seemed the men who said it had certain expectations, as if she were supposed to be so flattered by the observation that she should willingly fling caution and propriety aside and fall into their arms. That had certainly been the case with Edward Penberthy.

  She laughed at her own musings. "I doubt it was your intent, Mr. McClellan. You're as weak as a babe, more helpless than Gideon." She wagged a slender finger at his unconscious form. "Still, should you be getting any ideas I recommend you take the time to visit upon Lord Penberthy. The scars on his face might give you pause."

  Having said her piece, Jessa applied the poultice to Noah's wound and turned him on his side so she could wrap the clean bandage around his waist. Her fingers brushed against his warm skin, and as she leaned forward her soft breath whispered across his shoulder. She worked efficiently, fighting the feelings of awareness she had for her patient. Those feelings, she had discovered, were prone to make her fingers clumsy. Had he been conscious they would have tied her tongue in knots.

  It was difficult not to be aware of Noah McClellan. For Jessa, that awareness had begun at the inn in Hemmings. He was the sort of man women noticed, Jessa thought remembering how the innkeeper's wife and the two serving girls had regarded him with bold eyes and teasing smiles. Yet in fairness to Noah, he had done nothing to encourage their attention. He had simply walked into the inn. Jessa felt herself blushing. Oh, how this man had walked! His easy gait, the self-assured stance, had drawn her eyes also. He didn't swagger; he didn't have to. There was a certain confidence in his long stride that was both masculine and graceful.

  Jessa pressed her hands to her warm cheeks. She remembered lowering her eyes so he wouldn't suspect she had been staring as he walked toward her table. A moment later he was past her, speaking with the innkeeper, and she would have had to turn completely around to look at him. Even if she had not been cast in the role of a grieving widow, Jessa would not have turned around. She envied the serving girls, neither of whom had the least reservation about doing just that. Surreptitiously she watched their antics, the sly winks they exchanged, and by doing so, she saw Noah McClellan through their eyes.

  They shared a giggle as they stared unashamedly at his back, taking in his wide shoulders and the taut length of his legs. Fluttering their lashes, they preened, waiting for Noah to turn around so they could feast on something besides the expensive cut of his clothes. Jessa had hidden a smile against Gideon's forehead. She doubted either of the girls was paying the slightest attention to the conversation between Noah and the innkeeper.

  Noah's voice had caught Jessa's interest immediately. The hint of a drawl was lilting and melodious and fell pleasantly on her ears. It was a voice for lullabies, she had whispered to Gideon. Or at least it had been until Noah became angry with the innkeeper. There was no trace of the gentle cadence of his speech once he raised his voice. It was harsh, clipped, and angry, boding ill for anyone in earshot.

  Jessa shied away from that memory, not daring to think what it would be like to have that fearsome voice directed at her. She remembered instead how Noah's kindness on the coach had captured her admiration. "I think when you left the inn I was the envy of those serving girls," she told him. Jessa covered Noah with two blankets, tucking them under the feather tick. "They'd have expired where they stood if they'd seen as much of you as I have this evening." She knelt on the floor by the bed and rested her head against the tick. "You're an exceedingly handsome man, Noah McClellan." Then she prayed for his life to be spared.

  Mary pushed open the door to the bedroom with her hip and carried in a wooden tray of tea and buttered bread. Setting the tray on the nightstand, she nudged Jessa's shoulder with her hand."'Ere now, it's time ye let me take a turn at this." She clucked her tongue in gentle disapproval."'Ave you been 'ere all night?"

  Jessa raised her head and immediately put her hand to her stiff neck. Her wide gray eyes fluttered open. "What? Oh, it's you."

  "And who'd ye think it be? Come on, up with ye. Ye could 'ave slept in the rocker. Leastways it wouldn't 'ave been so uncomfortable."

  Jessa allowed Mary to help her into the ancient rocker a few feet from the bed. The runners had been mended so often that the chair wobbled sideways when it was rocked. "It didn't seem so bad last night. I don't even remember falling asleep." She barely was able to raise her hand in time to stifle a yawn. "What time is it?"

  "Gone eight."

  "Eight!" Jessa sat upright. She would have bolted from the chair if Mary hadn't blocked her path.

  "Stay where ye are, Miss Jessa. Yer in my 'ouse now and I'm sayin' 'ow we go on from 'ere." She merely flashed a fulsome smile when Jessa glared at her. "That's better. Ye lean back and give it a rest. I've made some tea for ye and the guvnor." Mary passed a mug to Jessa then bent over Noah, checking his forehead with the back of her hand."'E's not so feverish as he was last eve. But not ready to take any of my tea. I see that well enough." Drawing the blankets down Noah's chest she checked the bandage. "You've added a poultice. When did ye do that?"

  "Sometime last night. Perhaps it was early this morning. I don't know. "Jessa sipped on her tea and grimaced slightly. Mary had been heavy-handed with the milk and sugar. "He fell out of bed and rent the stitches. I thought a poultice would be better than sewing him up again."

  Mary glanced over her shoulder. "Ye put 'im in bed by yerself?" she asked in amazement.

  "Well, yes," she admitted, uneasy under Mary's hard stare. "It wasn't so difficult."

  Mary snorted. "I don't believe ye. 'E's a big one. Ye should 'ave called me."

  "Don't be cross, Mary. It's done now." Jessa closed her eyes. "I couldn't leave him on the floor. It was too cold."

  Mary was not relenting. "So ye spent the night there yerself. Now that's usin' yer sense." She opened the trunk at the foot of the bed and took out a woolen blanket. Brooking no nonsense, she tucked it around Jessa. "All we need is for ye to fall ill. That would truly 'elp the babe."

  Jessa realized she was achingly tired. She hadn't given Gideon a thought until now. "I haven't heard Gideon at all this morning." Usually his slightest cry captured her attention. "He's not sick, is he?"

  "That one's doin' fine. Just fine. Sarah came by early and took 'im with 'er."

  Jessa's e
yes flew open. "But why?"

  Mary's hand settled over her ample hips. "Because she's got three of 'er own and she can 'ide the boy among them. It was 'Ank's idea."

  "Hank never mentioned it to me."

  "It's what 'e told Sarah to do come first light. She's was just doin' what 'er 'usband wanted. It's safer for Gideon."

  Jesse hadn't thought Hank would stop at his own cottage before going into hiding, but it made sense. Sarah would have been frantic with worry if he hadn't returned last night. "Was Sarah very upset about what happened?"

  "No, she takes it in stride, same as I do. We knew the sort of men we were marryin'. Went into it with our eyes open."

  "Davey and his brothers were only smugglers when you married," Jessa said. "It wasn't precisely an accepted occupation, I'll grant you, but most everyone turns their head to it. Some people even say it's justified."

  Mary shrugged. "On water or on 'orseback, it's still thievin', and don't ye forget it."

  Jessa was surprised to hear Mary say so. "I know, but they wouldn't have taken to the road if it weren't for me."

  "If it weren't fer Gideon," Mary said, correcting her. "And they're not complaining, so why should ye? Besides, if people knew why they were needin' the money they'd say it was in a good cause."

  Jessa doubted that but she held her tongue and smiled at Mary. "Gideon and I are blessed to have friends like you."

  Mary began straightening the room hurriedly, uncomfortable with Jessa's heartfelt sentiment. "Why don't you make a fresh poultice and..." She stopped because Jessa had come up behind her and laid a hand on her arm.

  "I mean it, Mary. Gideon and I are blessed." Jessa kissed Mary on the cheek then fled the room, dragging the blanket after her.

  Mary picked up Noah's soiled and bloodstained clothes, which had been relegated to a pile in one corner, and carried them out with the damp sheets and used bandages. Her heart went out to Jessa. She couldn't think of anyone who had been less blessed this past year than Jessica Winter.

  Jessa was fiddling with the fire in the hearth when Mary returned to the outer room. "I think we should leave the door open," she said. "There's a chill in there. Perhaps this fire will help. I should have thought of it last night." She put aside the poker and picked up her clothes as well as Gideon's cradle. "I suppose I should put these things away."

  "It would be best," Mary agreed, dropping the dirty laundry in the wooden washtub. "Put the mourning gown in the trunk. We don't want the soldiers seeing anything that could connect you with the robbery. Put the cradle on the far side of the bed, under a blanket."

  Jessa frowned, wondering why she had to hide the things that were going into the other room. "But you agreed the soldiers wouldn't search the cottage."

  "It's just a precaution. Don't fret." She smiled with more confidence than she felt. "I told ye I'd take care of the men. If they come at all."

  But Jessa knew they would come and she also knew that she had placed Mary and her family in terrible danger by bringing Noah McClellan to the cottage. It would take only one small piece of evidence to damn them all. She shut the lid on the trunk and her eyes fell on Noah. Hardly a small piece of evidence, she considered wryly. The bed could hardly contain his length.

  Jessa rushed out of the room, uneasy with her thoughts. She did not like being so aware of this man.

  Mary looked up from the stew she was stirring as Jessa came back in. "What's 'appened to ye?"

  "Nothing," she said quickly, too quickly.

  Mary's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Are you going to make that poultice?"

  "What? Oh, yes. I'll make it. Now."

  "And do ye think ye might be gettin' dressed today?"

  Jessa looked down at herself. Her comical expression of dismay brought a chuckle to Mary's lips. "After I make the poultice," she said, looking defiantly at Mary.

  Mary watched Jessa silently and knowingly. "The guvnor's a fine lookin' man," she said as Jessa stood on tiptoe to reach the shelf where the linseed oil was kept.

  Startled, Jessa nearly knocked the jar over. She caught it as it tipped forward and pressed it against her chest. "You may be right," she said airily, avoiding Mary's shrewd stare. She placed the jar on the table and ladled a cup of warm cow's milk into a bowl. Adding the oil, she stirred vigorously. She didn't look up as Mary handed her the healing herbs. "He's very tall," she said casually. "My head doesn't reach his shoulder."

  "That's true enough, but since I've only seen 'im laid out, it wasn't what I noticed about 'im."

  "Oh?" She added the herbs, stirred, and poured the mixture into a small kettle which she hung on a hook in the hearth.

  Mary was not fooled by Jessa's pretense of unconcern. "Mr. McClellan 'as a beautiful mouth," she said.

  "Mary!"

  "There's no 'arm in lookin'. Leastways that's what Davey tells me every time I catch 'im sneakin' a glance at Margaret Wilson. I don't mean nothin' by it."

  "I should hope not," Jessa said, stirring more briskly now. She didn't dare look at Mary.

  Over Jessa's bent head Mary grinned. "And 'e's got such long lashes. Wouldn't I just love to 'ave such a pair." She fluttered her red-tipped lashes coyly. "I wondered about 'is eyes, though. Blue, I think."

  "They're green."

  "Green's very nice."

  "Well, they're not precisely green," Jessa said, annoyed with this conversation. "They have flecks of gray and gold and a bit of brown."

  "Hazel then."

  "Yes, hazel. Completely unremarkable."

  "Oh, yes. Completely unremarkable. I'm surprised ye took any notice," she prompted.

  Jessa sighed, pulling the thickened poultice mixture out of the hearth. "You're making too much of it, Mary. I could hardly help but notice the man's eyes. He was sitting on the opposite seat on the coach. We talked and he made himself helpful with Gideon. I know how many brothers and sisters he has, where he's from, and where he was going. I even know how many nieces and nephews he has and I could probably name half of them. It's hardly worth noting that I remember the color of his eyes."

  "Certainly," Mary pretended to agree. "Now, take my Davey for instance. You've known 'im almost as long as I 'ave. 'E was a proper groom in your papa's stables."

  "When he wasn't joining the local band of smugglers."

  Mary waved that aside. "Tell me the color of 'is eyes."

  Jessa paused in spreading out the cheesecloth on the table. Her fingers flitted over the edges as she smoothed them. "They're brown." Mary's hearty laughter washed over her and she knew she had guessed wrong. "Well, they're dark," she said, defending herself hastily.

  "They're blue," Mary said. "And as soft and light as 'eather."

  Jessa spooned out the contents of the kettle and wrapped the cloth around it. "I'll take this into him now." She fled Mary's company as hastily as she had earlier fled Noah's. Against her own advice she closed the door in order to block out Mary's satisfied laughter.

  Jessa was briskly efficient in the face of Mary's pointed observations. She was less than gentle as she tugged at the old poultice and replaced it with the fresh one. It was Noah's soft moan that stilled her hand and reminded her that he was not at fault for all her wayward, wicked thoughts. She bathed his face and supported his head, trying to get him to take some of the lukewarm tea Mary had brought in earlier. He was having none of it. "Stubborn man," she said, righting his blankets. "I don't know..."

  Jessa stopped, every sense alert to the new danger. Through the cottage walls she could hear the pounding of horses and the orders a commander delivered to his men. She dropped Noah's head back on the thin pillow and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for the soldiers to announce their presence at the door. She wished there was a window in the tiny bedchamber where she could look out. Almost as soon as she wished it, she changed her mind, thankful for the dark protection of the four walls. She turned back the lamp until its light flickered and then was extinguished. Jessa folded her hands in her lap and waited.

  Mary h
ad heard the soldiers also. She composed herself, taking a deep breath and patting down her flyaway hair, and opened the door to them. "Lor', it's a cold day to be out on yer 'orse," she said, wrapping her arms around her middle. "Lost yer way? The post road's through those woods, about five miles as the crow flies."

  The commander of the small troop of five dismounted and gave his reins to one of his men. "I'm Sergeant White," he introduced himself as he approached Mary. He was a large man, broad at the shoulders and equally so at the waist. He held himself very stiffly, seemingly unaffected by the biting wind. "We're here on the King's business, Miss—"

  "Shaw. I'm Mary Shaw." She didn't correct his assumption that she was single. It was better that he should think so, though Mary thought her charm would be lost on him. In dealing with this man she realized she had better use her wits. He seemed too duty bound to have his head turned by a fluttery smile. "Ow can I 'elp ye, sergeant?"

  "I've orders to make a thorough search of the area. There was a robbery on the post road last night."

  Mary's eyes were as wide as sovereigns as she feigned shock. "That's terrible!"

  "Bloody awful it was, Miss Shaw, if you'll pardon my blunt manner. A man was shot and a woman and a child taken hostage."

  Mary leaned back against the door and hugged herself more tightly."'Tis a terrible thing, all right. But why 'ave ye come 'ere?"

  "Orders," he said tersely. "Beggin' your pardon, I have to search the house and grounds. We've been combin' the woods since daybreak." He turned from her and ordered his men to begin with the grounds, including the woodshed and the ramshackle stable. "I'll look in the house myself."

  This time Mary's shock was not feigned. "Ye 'ave no right," she said stoutly, stiffening her shoulders. "This ain't proper! What is it ye expect to find?"

  The sergeant was impatient, eager to be out of the cold for a little while and almost as eager to be done with this fool's errand. He was somewhat familiar with the locals and the clannish nature of the population. If any one of them had anything to do with stopping the coach he'd wager a month's pay no one would speak of it. "I don't expect to find anything," he said truthfully, "but I'm ordered to have a look anyway. Now, if you'll step aside, I'll be about my business then I'll be on my way."