Tempting Torment

by Jo Goodman

  Desolate, Jessa stood in the middle of the road until Noah, Gideon, and the stallion disappeared in the gray mist ahead. When they were no longer visible she sat down on the slanting bed of the wagon, wrapped her cloak closely about her shoulders, and waited.

  She regretted letting Noah leave with the valise. What if he should look inside it? It didn't matter about the pistol. He already knew she had it. But what about the papers? She hadn't taken any pains to hide them, not as she had when she ran from Penberthy Manor. They were there, in plain view, among a few items of clothing and the valuables from the robbery.

  What would Noah make of Kenyon Penberthy's will if he saw it? What would he think of the pages torn raggedly from the family Bible, detailing the births and deaths of generations of Penberthys? And then there was the letter from Claudia Penberthy, addressed to Jessa when she was still a companion to Lady Howard in London, asking Jessa to leave her post and accept a position at the manor as Adam's nanny. That letter held the key to her relationship with Claudia, Kenyon, and Adam, but would Noah understand what it meant?

  The documents could damn her in Noah's eyes, yet, she reflected, what choice did she have but to carry them with her? When Gideon became of age she was obligated to give him proof of his birthright. He would need the evidence if he wanted to claim the manor as his home. Even with the will, the Penberthy lineage, and her letter, he would have a difficult time making himself believed, but it was all Jessa could offer him. The will and the pages from the Bible had been stolen from Edward's study at no little risk to herself. She hoped some day Gideon would appreciate that.

  There were moments of doubt when she feared Gideon would not believe she had taken him from the manor because his life was threatened, still worse, that by not believing he would come to hate her. She could imagine him thinking she had stolen his birthright rather than tried to protect it for him.

  "Oh, God," she whispered forlornly, leaning her head against the rough side of the wagon. "After today anyone would suspect I don't care a whit for Gideon's interests." Gradually complete exhaustion eliminated Jessa's tortured thoughts. She fell asleep, huddled in one corner of the wagon, and gradually drifted into dreams of what might be rather than of what had been.

  * * *

  Noah carefully climbed into the wagon and hunkered down in the corner opposite Jessa. He had removed his leather jacket and his white linen shirt billowed lightly in the breeze. Jessa was still wrapped in her cloak, but the tiny beads of perspiration on her upper lip and forehead were proof that the day was no longer cool. The fog was gone now. Even the clouds had scattered. The sun was still low in the clear morning sky, but it shone brightly and warmly, and a scorching afternoon seemed inevitable.

  Watching Jessa sleep was one of the most peaceful things Noah had ever done. She appeared incredibly young to him, her expression untroubled and trusting. Her flawless complexion was faintly flushed with sleep and her dark lashes fanned pale shadows against her cheeks. Tendrils of silky hair that had escaped the braided knot at the nape of her neck fluttered about her ears and temples. Had Jessa but known it, her slightly parted lips, soft and pink, invited kissing. Noah wished with all his being it was the sort of thing he could do without frightening her or perhaps causing her to raise the flat of her hand again. He knew he had given her sufficient reason to react either way.

  Smiling wryly, he touched his cheek on the spot where she had slapped him. Her hands were so small and delicate compared to his, her movements graceful, her long fingers beautifully shaped. Yet he had felt his teeth rattle when she delivered the blow. He'd remember that. Not that he intended to retaliate in kind the next time she lifted her hand. What he intended to do was duck.

  "I know you're awake, Jessa," he said softly, amusement deepening his smile. His hand fell away from his cheek and rested on his knee. "I saw you peek."

  "Have you been here long?" Jessa straightened her head, massaging the back of her cramped neck.

  "Not long, no."

  She blinked several times and rubbed her eyes with the back of her fingers. "Gideon?"

  "He's fine. He's being cosseted and coddled within an inch of his young life. When I left, Tildy, Ruth, and Mother were all fighting over him. You realize, don't you, that no one's particularly happy with you?"

  Jessa nodded, biting her lower lip.

  "Jericho's the most put out. He's blaming himself for not going after you." At Jessa's questioning look, Noah explained. "When Billy freed himself, he went to Jericho and told him you were gone. Billy's a trifle thick-witted and never mentioned you had Gideon. Jericho never thought to ask. He looked for me in our bedchamber and when I wasn't there he went to my father. They decided the best course was not to interfere and let it rest until I found you missing this morning. Then they pointed me in the right direction. However, last night neither of them thought for a moment that you had taken Gideon. Even when I left the landing to come after you, they still didn't realize you had Gideon. I thought it was an obvious fact. They, on the other hand, couldn't credit you with such—"

  "Stupidity."

  "I was going to say lack of judgment."

  "It amounts to the same thing," she said tonelessly.

  Noah could see she was punishing herself more thoroughly than he ever could or wanted to. He decided it was time to take some of the responsibility on his own shoulders. "If it makes you feel any better you should know that I'm not exactly in the family's good graces at the moment either. It was pointed out rather forthrightly that a man's wife does not run away without thinking she has good cause. My parents are wondering how they whelped such a complete fool. Salem wants to thrash me. Rae and Ashley think I'm an ogre, and when Jericho's done kicking himself, I'm his next target."

  "It doesn't... m-make m-me feel any b-better," she stammered, fighting the tears that were clogging her throat. "I d-don't want them t-to hurt you. It's m-my fault."

  "Oh, Jessa," Noah said sadly. "Let's not speak of fault." He stood, rocking the wagon slightly as he jumped out. Going to the corner where Jessa crouched miserably, Noah's hands slid beneath her cloak and curved on either side of her waist. With hardly any effort he lifted her from the wagon bed and brought her to stand directly in front of him. His hands steadied her then slipped around her back as she leaned into him. Her ragged sobs tore at him. He could feel the wet press of his shirt against his skin where her tears dampened the material. "Jessa, you're going to make yourself ill crying like this." His gentle words had quite the opposite effect he intended. Jessa merely sobbed harder.

  Noah patiently waited her out, stroking her back, laying his cheek on the silky crown of her head in much the way he would have offered comfort to a child. Only against his body, Jessa did not feel like a child and Noah did not feel paternal. Her body curved sweetly into his and her palms warmed his skin through his shirt, yet she aroused feelings that were less sexual and more protective in nature.

  Drawing a shaky breath, Jessa pulled away and fumbled for the handkerchief she had tucked under one sleeve of her slate gray dress. Her head bowed, she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. "I suppose we should be going back now," she said, tucking the handkerchief away. "Your family is probably... they'll begin to wonder where we are."

  "No, they won't," he said. "I told them that you and I were going to sort some things out between us. They don't expect that to be accomplished in minutes. Neither do I." He lifted her chin and pointed her face in the direction of the wood where he had tethered a pair of horses. "I left General at the landing in favor of a fresh mount. Willow is for you. That's the bay. The roan is mine. That nag Billy gave you, by the way, is already back at the stable. Now, I'm thinking we can have that ride we spoke of last night, but first there's the matter of breakfast."

  "Breakfast? But—"

  Noah redirected Jessa's gaze so that it fell on the cloth-covered basket laying on the ground beside the roan. "Are you hungry?"

  Jessa nodded.

  "Good. Tildy packed a feast." His hand
dropped away from her face. "The river is only a short walk through the woods. I have a blanket, and we can sit on the bank and no passersby will disturb us. Why don't you throw your cloak over Willow's saddle? It's warm enough that you don't need it now. And no, that wasn't an order. Only a suggestion."

  It was a good suggestion. She slipped the cape over her shoulders and draped it on her arm.

  "Here, your pins have come loose." Noah plucked one of the hairpins from where it had fallen on her shoulder and handed it to her. "Don't bother with it now," he said when she began trying to straighten her hair. "In fact," his fingers pulled the rest of the pins out before she could protest, "I rather like your braid like that." He drew it over her shoulder. "Isn't it more comfortable now instead of having all that weight at the back of your neck?"

  It was, but why he should care bewildered Jessa. More to the point, she found his entire manner odd. When Noah started for the wood she held back uncertainly.

  Noah picked up the basket and took the rolled blanket from behind General's saddle. He turned, frowning when he realized Jessa wasn't with him. "Aren't you coming?"

  Jessa's hands gestured to the horses, the basket, and blanket. "Why are you doing this, Noah?"

  "This?"

  "This. You. Everything. Why are you being so... so considerate?"

  Noah's brows raised a fraction. "Yes," he drawled, "I can see that it would seem out of character to you, but the truth of it is, this is much more my nature than scrapping and fighting. Would you rather I were angry? "

  "Yes... no... I don't know," she said weakly. "It's just that you'll be kind now and as soon as I'm lulled into thinking you mean to remain pleasant, you'll become furiously angered. I can't go through it any more. I suppose I'd rather that you didn't pretend with me."

  "I'm not pretending, Jessa. I didn't choose a picnic by the river because I planned to pitch you in. Neither did I choose it because I planned a seduction. I imagine both those thoughts crossed your mind."

  She looked away guiltily, revealing that she had indeed considered equally possible.

  "I thought it might be something like that. Actually, I'm hungry. Therefore, the basket. I also hoped we could talk. The river is quiet and calming and we'll have privacy we would never be afforded at the landing. I've had a lot of time to think this morning, Jessa, and my mother is right about one thing. You wouldn't have left me without believing you had good cause. Not when I already promised we would discuss our situation after a brief separation. I'd like to find out why the urgency."

  Jessa took a few steps into the wood and regarded Noah curiously. "I thought it was obvious."

  "Come on," he said. "You can tell me while we eat." He turned and began walking, hoping Jessa would follow.

  Jessa threw her cape over Willow's saddle and caught up to Noah, relieving him of the blanket he carried. He shortened his stride so she could keep up with him, and that small token of thoughtfulness lifted Jessa's heart more than he could have possibly realized.

  When they broke through the woods, Noah pointed out a place where the grassy bank leveled off. It was shaded in part by the trees behind them but it was also dappled by prisms of sunlight and looked warm and dry. Jessa laid out the blanket, smoothing the edges neatly to give herself something to do. Noah watched the fluttering of her nervous hands and smothered his grin. She would probably be amused to know that he was just as nervous, but he had a picnic basket to clutch and therefore it wasn't quite as obvious.

  "I think that's fine, Jessa," he said, sitting down cross-legged on one comer. He placed the basket in front of him and Jessa sat on the other side of it, maintaining a safe distance as he had known she would. Noah lifted the basket's cloth cover and tossed it aside. "We have hard-boiled eggs, fresh bread, a crock of sweet butter, two kinds of jam... elderberry and grape, I think, cold drumsticks, ham slices, apples, cheese, wine, and... no glasses." He glanced over at Jessa. "It's a wine skin," he said, holding up the leather pouch. "If you don't mind sharing, we can drink out of it."

  "That's all right. I don't think I care for any, thank you. In case you hadn't noticed, I don't have much of a head for drink. It only makes me sleepy."

  "I had noticed. You slept through quite a family disagreement last night."

  Jessa reached for an egg, cracked it on the edge of the basket, and began peeling it. "No, I didn't."

  "You didn't?"

  "I was awake while you were discussing politics. Remember? That was before Tildy brought out the rum."

  Noah relaxed and rummaged through the basket for a drumstick. "Arguing politics is a favorite pastime. No, you fell asleep before we started sparring in earnest." He took a bite of chicken. "I'm glad you didn't hear us. There were things said I'd rather tell you myself."

  "Oh?" Her eyes were wide, uncertain.

  "But not just yet." he said quickly. "I'd like to hear why you felt compelled to leave in the middle of the night You may think your reasons are obvious, but they're not. Not to me, at least."

  Jessa swallowed her first bite of egg and cleared her throat. "Tell me why you think I went," she said. "You must have some idea."

  "All right. I think it's because I've treated you abominably, subjected you to my black humor on more occasions than I care to remember. I've criticized, badgered, and hurt you. Those would all seem sufficient reason to go."

  "They are," she said as unwelcome tears gathered in her eyes. "But they are not precisely my reasons. Do you think I don't know that you treat me differently than other people? With Gideon you're patience itself. You're firm with him, but never harsh. You show every kindness to Cam. Captain Riddle respects you. You were attentive to Drew Goodfellow, polite to Mary. On the coach, when I was still a stranger to you, you were solicitous and friendly. I haven't forgotten that." Jessa tossed her half-eaten egg into the river, plucked out a blade of grass, and rolled it back and forth between her hands. "It may have been better for you if you hadn't been so kind then. God knows, nothing's been right for you since."

  "What about you?"

  She shrugged, avoiding Noah's thoughtful eyes by choosing a point beyond his shoulder. "My feelings are of no consequence. Whatever's happened I've only myself to blame."

  "You take too much on yourself," he said. "And you haven't the shoulders to support such weight."

  "Please, Noah, let me finish," she said, looking at him long enough to plead. "This marriage was none of your doing, certainly not to your liking. I was prepared to accept your protection, but on my terms, not yours. That was not a reasonable position to take, and I shouldn't have been surprised when you made your objections known. Day after day I watched you grow increasingly bitter and unhappy. You acted in ways that were foreign to you, and I could see it in your face that you were alarmed by what was happening, even shamed. Then... the night on the Clarion when you said you wanted a whore... I knew then that I would have to leave you. I hated what I was becoming; I hated what I had made of you."

  Jessa flicked away the twisted blade of grass and picked another. "Last night seemed the perfect time to go. You said you needed me, yet you didn't want me. I made you sick, you said." Jessa heard Noah groan softly as if in pain. "You said the same thing of yourself. I didn't—I still don't—understand what happened, but then you were telling me you were going on alone to Philadelphia and I knew you were going to Hilary. Which is the way it should be since you love her," she said a shade breathlessly. "We've always agreed that our marriage should be temporary, though we've never quite agreed on how and when it should be ended. I couldn't remain at the landing knowing how things are between us. I suppose I could have waited until you had gone, but it seemed wrong somehow to do that to your family. I thought it would be better if you were still there to explain why I left."

  Noah was silent for a long time. His green-gold eyes followed the meandering progress of a box turtle dragging itself along the river's edge. Noah found himself wishing that he might have such an uncomplicated existence. Almost instantly he called b
ack the wish, knowing that he would be bored in a sennight. "Do you want our marriage ended, Jessa?" he asked finally. He tossed his half-eaten chicken leg to the turtle and wiped his fingers on the cloth that had covered the basket. "Please, look at me. I need your honesty now." Don't lie to me, Jessa, Noah prayed silently. Please don't lie to me.

  "I want you to be happy again," she said, holding his steady gaze. "The way you were when I first met you."

  "And you believe dissolving the marriage will accomplish that?"

  "Yes." She frowned slightly, her pale gray eyes pensive. "Won't it?"

  "No."

  "No?"

  "No," he repeated firmly. Since breakfast this morning some things had become astonishingly clear. "I want to be happy with you, Jessa, not without you."

  Jessa said nothing. She stared at her hands. Finally, with a touch of wariness, "I don't see how that's possible."

  "Do you hate me?" he asked baldly.

  "N-no," she stammered, startled into honesty by his bluntness. "That is, sometimes I think I do. Not always."

  "That at least, is something. Though why you shouldn't despise me all the time is beyond my comprehension. Tell me, do you think I hate you?"

  She shook her head. "Not hate, precisely. I think you feel contempt for me. I think you resent me for the trick I've played you. There will always be Hilary between us."

  "She doesn't have to be. Don't you think there were times when I felt the same way about Robert?" Noah's eyes pleaded with Jessa to take the opening he offered and tell him the truth about the husband who never existed. Seconds ticked by before Noah accepted that she had no reason to trust him with the truth. Her eyes, the set of her shoulders, the way her fingers plucked at her skirt spoke to her wariness. Given her experience with him, she had every right to doubt his sincerity. "I was jealous. There! I've finally said it. God, that I should be so stubborn! It's not to be borne." He leaned forward a little, resting his elbows on his knees. "Jessa, you cannot conceive how jealous I am of Robert Grantham. Do you know what it's like to battle a ghost? A veritable saint?"