Tempting Torment

by Jo Goodman

  "What in hell do you think you're doing?" he asked. He was sitting up in bed, a pillow propped between the small of his back and the wall.

  Jessa turned on him, clutching a pillow in front of her. Her voice was calm, patient, but her eyes avoided his and fixed on a point beyond his naked shoulder. "I think even someone with your intelligence can see that I intend to sleep here."

  "Are you deliberately trying to provoke a confrontation?"

  "No."

  "No? I think you are. Look at me!"

  She did. Her mirrored eyes flashed in the candlelight. "No, I'm not trying to provoke anything."

  "Then you'll sleep here, just as you have these past weeks."

  "No."

  If anything, the set of Noah's mouth became grimmer. "I probably didn't hear you correctly."

  "You know you did. I said no. I'm not going to sleep in that bed, not as long as you're there, too. You made yourself quite clear as to what I could expect tonight. I'm telling you now, I'm not willing."

  "Sharpened your claws these past days, have you?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

  Her fingers bit deeper into the pillow. "Yes."

  "Then I suppose I've been forewarned. I'll take my chances. You've scratched me before, little cat, and I don't remember complaining."

  Jessa's mouth went dry. The memory of her nails digging into the solid muscle of Noah's back was so vivid that she felt a rush of heat burn her from the inside out. She dropped the pillow on the window seat. Turning away from Noah, Jessa went to the wardrobe and took out her nightshift. She slipped off her shoes and stockings, struggled with the lacings at the back of her gown, then eased out of it stiffly, conscious of any small movement she might make that Noah could interpret as provocation. Still giving Noah her back, she slid her chemise over her shoulders, but before she tugged it further than her waist, Jessa pulled the nightshift over her and finished undressing beneath it. She washed her face and brushed her hair until it crackled, keeping her face averted all the while. When she finished, she turned back the last lamp and moved toward the window seat.

  Noah's voice was quiet and, like the darkness, faintly threatening. "Don't do it Jessa."

  Jessa stopped. She looked at him over her shoulder. "Please, Noah, let me be."

  "You're my wife."

  "I'm a convenience."

  "Hardly that. There's nothing remotely convenient about the sleeping arrangement you're proposing."

  Ignoring him, Jessa began walking toward the window seat. Behind her, she heard Noah throwing back the covers on the bed. She closed her eyes, bracing herself for his assault. When it didn't come as soon as she expected, she turned. It was a mistake.

  Noah was standing directly in front of her. Jessa's eyes were at the level of his bare chest. She hazarded a glance downward and was only slightly relieved to see his cotton drawers slung low on narrow hips. Biting the soft underside of her lip, Jessa raised her face. There was no defiance in the slender line of her jaw, no rebellion in the hollow depths of her eyes. Nothing about her stance indicated she was daring him, yet she knew it had ceased to matter. The challenge had been issued days ago and unless one of them surrendered now, real conflict was inevitable.

  "You can't despise me more than you already do," Noah said heavily, in the manner of a man who had reached the powerful, dangerous conclusion that he had nothing to lose. Without giving Jessa the opportunity to deny his claim, one hand swiftly encircled her neck, the other her waist, and held her immobile for his punishing kiss.

  Jessa offered nothing in return, pressing her lips closed until Noah forced them apart with his tongue. Even then she didn't struggle, though she barred a deeper kiss by clenching her teeth together. His mouth ground against hers and pain was something both of them shared. Jessa knew better than to suppose Noah was enjoying the kiss.

  It wasn't until he lifted her and began carrying her toward the bed that Jessa resorted to the tactics she had promised. Twisting, she freed her arms and landed a hard blow to Noah's jaw with her fist. He lost purchase just as he reached the bed and Jessa was dumped unceremoniously on the feather tick. She started to scramble to the other side, but he grabbed her nightshift, then her ankle, and pulled her back. It enraged her that he managed the thing with one hand while the other nursed his sore jaw.

  Jessa kicked at him violently, narrowly missing placing the heel of her foot squarely in his groin. Noah sidestepped the blow, taking it in the thigh instead. Grunting softly, he dropped to his knees on the bed and trapped Jessa's flailing arms in his hands. Slowly he increased the pressure on her wrists and lowered them so they were flattened to the bed above her head. He then avoided her kicking legs by straddling her hips. He rested very little of his weight on her, supporting himself on his calves.

  Noah studied Jessa's face for long, deeply charged moments. Her features were composed again, her expression grave. Her eyes were dark, intense. Her mouth was slightly swollen from the pressure of his kiss. Breath shuddered in and out of her, drawing his gaze to the neckline of her gown and the rise and fall of her chest. When he spoke his voice was rough and husky, his breathing still not quite steady. "This marriage was not my doing, Jessa, but in my own way I've accepted it. That's much more than I can say for you. You have never asked me, nor concerned yourself with what I might want in return for giving you protection. I'm going to tell you now. There are only two things I want from our marriage: the privilege of seeing that Gideon is provided for regardless of our situation and... and the use of your body. Tonight. Tomorrow. Anytime." He paused briefly, then finished, "In any manner."

  She could not register any happiness that Noah had made a commitment to Gideon. For once the child's welfare was not uppermost in her thoughts. "You want a whore," she said tonelessly.

  "Yes," he said slowly, "I suspect you're right. I merely want a whore."

  Jessa's throat felt thick with the pressure of unshed tears. "Then have done with it. I'm not my father's daughter in at least one respect. I honor my debts."

  Noah slid off Jessa and rolled onto his back, cradling his head in the palms of his hands. "Well?" he said finally.

  Confused, Jessa sat up, massaging her wrists where Noah's fingers had twisted her skin. "What is it you want?"

  "My pleasure, Jessa. A whore sees to the man's pleasure and doesn't worry about her own."

  She stared at him speechlessly.

  One of Noah's brows arched in a lazy curve of mild interest. "Reneging on your debt so soon?"

  "No!" She drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. "What should I do?"

  "You could begin by lighting the lamp on the table then removing your shift."

  Trembling, Jessa slid off the bed and lit the lamp, adjusting the wick so the room was cast in muted yellow light and soft-edged shadows. She went back to the bed and stood uncertainly on the side closest to Noah.

  "The shift," he repeated. "I want to see you. All of you."

  Jessa eased the straps of her shift over her shoulders, held the material against her for an indecisive moment, then let it fall away. It drifted downward with all the insubstantial softness of a cloud, touching her breasts, her stomach, the length of her thighs.

  "My God, you're beautiful," Noah whispered.

  Jessa didn't hear the reverence in Noah's tone. She felt his eyes on her naked shoulders, her breasts, then felt his stare sweep along the curve of her body and come to rest at the juncture of her thighs. As she struggled with the urge to cover herself, Jessa felt anything but beautiful. She sat down on the edge of the bed, swiveled toward Noah, and drew her legs up and to the side. Her silky hair fell across her shoulder and down her arm as she leaned to the opposite side and rested her weight on one hand. When she bent her head slightly the soft corn silk strands slipped forward, covering one breast. "I'm not certain what I'm supposed to do," she said on a thread of sound. "I've never played the whore before."

  Noah's narrowed eyes lifted to her. "And I've never instructed one. Use your imagination."r />
  Jessa did. She leaned forward and imagined plucking the hair from Noah's head, strand by strand. Her fingers threaded through it instead. She lowered her mouth and considered biting his ear until he howled in pain. But Noah only felt her lips nibbling at his lobe. When Jessa wanted to strangle him for every cruel thing he had ever said or done, her hands curved around his throat, tightened briefly, and then slid across his shoulders. Her mouth followed the path of her hands, brushing his cheek, his jaw. Her tongue made a damp trail down the strong column of his throat. Would that it were razor sharp, she thought.

  Jessa's nails scraped lightly across the smooth expanse of Noah's chest. He had called her little cat. At the memory Jessa curled her fingers like talons and pressed harder.

  Noah caught her wrists. "Easy, Jessa. I'd prefer you didn't draw blood."

  You drew my blood, she wanted to say. Virgin's blood. My heart's blood. She held back her cry of pain, her soul as raw as an open wound, and relaxed her fingers. Gently she kissed the tiny half-moon indentations, pressing a feral smile to his heated skin when he groaned softly in response. She felt a measure of triumph having drawn the response. Her nails flicked across his nipples and she felt him suck in his breath.

  "You like that, don't you?" she whispered, echoing a phrase he had said to her before. "No? Then I won't do it again. I'll do this." This was moving her head lower and darting her tongue across the hard nub of his nipple. "Hmm? Is that better?" She repeated the action on the other nipple. One hand slipped down the taut plane of his abdomen and then beneath the band of his drawers. She teased him, dipping, retreating, dipping again. When he stirred restlessly, arching so her hand would caress him, Jessa pulled away and languidly stretched along Noah's length until her body partially covered his. She considered the agony she could cause him by plunging her knee between his thighs. Instead, her bent knee nudged him just enough to feel the hot, hard evidence of his arousal.

  As Jessa's mouth brushed Noah's lips, he was moved to wonder what erotic thoughts guided her every action. Her touch was deft, skillful. There was rarely any hesitation on her part. She seemed to know exactly what he wanted, precisely where to touch him. Now her lips moved sweetly over his and he responded, opening his mouth and answering the ache she had stirred within him.

  Meeting no resistance, his tongue plunged into her mouth. His hands cradled her head, keeping her close. His kiss was hard and demanding, still faintly punishing. Jessa accepted the kiss and returned it with passion born of anger.

  Noah's hands slipped from her head and stole along the length of Jessa's back, silky with the fall of her hair. His fingers lightly stroked the side of her breasts. Gradually he insinuated his hands between their flushed bodies and cupped her breasts in his palms.

  Jessa despised her body for responding to his touch and she began to retreat to a secret place inside herself where Noah could not reach her. It was as if he were caressing another woman's body, for Jessa felt no connection with the flesh he stroked and aroused.

  Noah didn't sense Jessa's withdrawal. He was too awed, too overwhelmed by the fullness of her passion. He had called her a little cat. He was wrong. She was a lioness, breathtakingly feline as her body moved over his with sensuous, sinuous grace. Her kiss, as wholly satisfying as it had been, made him want more. Noah wanted to be inside her, sheathed by the hot, moist center of her, feeling the rhythmic pulsing of her body surrounding him.

  Rubbing her leg against him, Jessa slid down Noah's body, trailing kisses along his throat, his chest, tracing a path to his navel with the tip of her tongue. Her fingers worked swiftly, unfastening the buttons on his drawers. Noah arched as she began to ease the material over his hips, swallowing a moan when her hand brushed his hard arousal. She paused, then caressed him deliberately, stroking the length of him, imitating the motion of him inside her. Just when he was on the point of grabbing her wrist to still the rush of desire that threatened his control, Jessa released him and continued to tug at his clothes. Her hair was a pale silky curtain on either side of her face. It mingled with the dark, rougher hairs on his thighs and calves as she bent her head, intent on her task. Tossing his drawers over the side of the bed, Jessa ran her palms over the length of his legs, moving upward until her body lay flush to his. Her hand sought him again, fondling, teasing, making him ache until he thought he would die of wanting her.

  Noah grasped her buttocks, twisted so that she was under him, and ground his hips against her. Jessa pushed at his shoulders, fighting the embrace because she wanted control. It was a futile gesture, and gradually her hands slipped over his back. She closed her eyes and remembered that she was his whore and that what control she had was granted to her by Noah. Anytime, he had said. In any manner.

  She felt the brush of his lips on her eyelids, then her cheeks. His tongue traced the whorl of her ear, followed the curve of her cheek, then sought entry into her mouth. Her thighs were nudged apart by the insistent pressure Noah applied with one leg.

  In a deep, whiskey voice that was at once smooth and raw, he demanded her attention. "Look at me."

  Dutifully Jessa obliged, holding his dark gaze without seeing him at all.

  Satisfied with her response, perceiving the wide, black centers of her eyes to be an indication of desire, Noah slid between her parted legs. Jessa raised her knees, slipped her hand between their bodies and guided him into her. His powerful thrust made her wince, but she bit off the soft inside of her lower lip rather than let him hear her cry out.

  Noah was already moving rhythmically inside her when he realized her dark stare was vacant rather than desiring. Swearing softly, he began to pull away, but Jessa guessed his intention and grasped his hips and curved her legs around him.

  "Just finish it," she said emotionlessly. "I don't want anything from you."

  "Damn you, Jessa." There were pauses between his gritty words as Noah's control slipped away and he thrust into her again and again. Even now Jessa lifted her hips, matched the driving rhythms of his body, and caressed his shoulders and back. And Noah hated it. His pleasure was there; sparks of heat skittered across his skin, ribbons of white-hot flame uncurled inside him. But it was hollow pleasure. The satisfaction was for his flesh, there was none for his soul. He had not realized until now that it was important to him.

  Noah's body shuddered with the force of his climax and he buried his face in the curve of Jessa's neck. She made no attempt to remove his weight from her, nor did she touch him now. Her fingers twisted in the sheeting beneath her and she closed her eyes, waiting for Noah to withdraw. When he did, Jessa climbed out of bed and padded over to the basin. Making no attempt to hide what she was doing, Jessa scrubbed herself just as she had after Ross Booker's assault. Though Jessa did not realize it, insult was inherent in her lack of modesty, her proud posture, in every deliberate stroke of the rough cloth across her skin. She only knew that she wanted to be clean again.

  Noah had asked for a whore and Jessa thought she could play the role for him as long as he wished. She even acknowledged there was a curious sense of power in urging responses from his body when she felt nothing herself. But it was not what she wanted.

  Jessa stared at her reflection in the mirror, looking for some evidence of what she had become. She was faintly surprised to find her features unaltered by the experience. Perhaps by the time they reached the landing there would be some subtle change, she mused indifferently. And then? Then it would be over, Jessa promised herself. She thought it odd that tears suddenly glistened in her pale gray eyes, and she hastily blinked them back before they softened her resolve.

  Anything Noah did to her now wouldn't matter once she reached the landing. As soon as the opportunity presented itself she was going to leave him and take Gideon with her. It was the only thing she could think to do to make Noah happy again. He didn't seem to understand how much he had changed and how much he hated her, how much he hated wanting her. She didn't owe him the use of her body; she owed him peace of mind. Leaving him was the surest
means of giving him that gift.

  Chapter 9

  "Just around this bend in the river," said Noah. The Clarion's bow cut cleanly through the blue-green water of the James. Lush, emerald-leaved trees thickly lined the opposing banks. The breeze was fresh, no longer redolent with the salty fragrance peculiar to the ocean. The scents that captured Noah's attention were pine and sweet tobacco, the earthy smells of dark, rich soil turned for planting and the fine, light fragrance of the woman who stood in front of him. "You won't be able to see the house from the river, but we've already reached the McClellan boundary."

  In other circumstances Jessa might have smiled at the boyish excitement in Noah's voice. But not now. Now she was scared. McClellan's Landing was minutes away and Jessa was so frightened that she actually leaned into Noah for support. His large strong hands rested just below her shoulders, massaging lightly. Jessa wondered if Noah sensed her fear or if his touch was part of what he called his Strategy to Convince Others of Wedded Bliss. Believing it to be the latter, Jessa shivered in spite of the warm afternoon sun.

  Noah bent his head slightly so that his words were a caress across Jessa's ear. "There's nothing to fear, Jessa. As long as you follow my lead my family will never know what we are to each other."

  To the casual observer, of which there were many on deck, Jessa knew that Noah appeared everything solicitous. The way he held her, the manner in which his mouth brushed her ear, the way his eyes always sought her out, were carefully calculated to give the impression he was the doting husband. His words, edged with bitter dissatisfaction, told a far different story.

  Jessa glanced sideways at Cam, who stood only a few feet away. He carried Gideon on his back in a sling Noah had fashioned for him. Cam was more concerned with Gideon's persistent tugging on his hair than he was by any conversation. "I'll do whatever you want," Jessa said wearily.