by Jo Goodman
Caution stayed Jessa's tongue. Noah's confession surprised and confused her. "He wasn't a saint."
"You made him sound like one. Sometimes I wanted you to wonder about Hilary and I wanted the wondering to hurt."
"It did."
"Then can I hope that there were times, though I suspect too few of them, that you liked me enough to be jealous?"
He had her so off balance that Jessa didn't know which way to turn. Her lashes lowered momentarily and she nodded quickly.
"Well," Noah said with something akin to triumph. "We've established that you don't always hate me and that you occasionally feel jealousy. I've already admitted to being jealous. I don't believe that's necessarily a bad thing. I think we're making progress."
"This is an odd way of going about deciding the fate of our marriage."
Noah considered that while he looked through the basket again. Suddenly he was ravenously hungry. Probably, he decided, because Jessa, in spite of her words, was looking at him hopefully. He found an apple and bit into it. "Perhaps it is," he said offhandedly, "but then we have collected a lifetime of misunderstandings between us. I think we have everything to gain by muddling through them, don't you?"
The knot in Jessa's stomach was uncoiling also. "All right. Then tell me what you wanted last night when you woke me." She tipped the basket and took out a slice of bread, buttered it, slathered it with grape jam, and began eating while Noah stretched out on the blanket and considered how to answer her.
"I wanted nothing more than what we're doing right now," he said. Sunlight flickered over his hair and his mouth was relaxed, his eyes contemplative. "Just this. To talk. I needed you to listen to me. I don't blame you for misinterpreting my intent—that's the next wrinkle we'll iron out—but last night I only wanted you to hear me. After you fell asleep on the veranda my sister decided it was time for a few home truths about Hilary. It seems Salem and Jericho at different times had to fend off her advances. Hilary deliberately tried to destroy their marriages by carrying tales back to Ashley and Rae. I didn't believe them at first, I suppose because I thought Hilary's actions were a reflection on me. I wondered if I hadn't been attentive enough, not attractive enough, not... man enough for her. Salem and Jericho, well, you've seen them. They can turn a woman's head." Noah took another bite of apple and chewed thoughtfully. "Anyway, perhaps to salve my pride, or perhaps because it was true, they convinced me that Hilary's designs on them were nothing but a means of revenge."
"Revenge? I'm not certain I follow."
"Hilary despises the British. It doesn't really matter why, suffice it to say she thinks she has reason. Ashley and Jericho both have holdings in England. Therefore, Hilary took it in her head to hurt them. At least that's what they told me."
"But you're not completely convinced," Jessa said shrewdly.
"I don't suppose I am. Last night I felt betrayed and hurt by what she had done. And that was odd because I suddenly realized I hadn't felt truly loving toward her for a long time. My mother once asked me if I was being perhaps too coldhearted in my decision to wed Hilary. I didn't think so then. I know differently now. What I learned last night didn't change my feelings toward Hilary. It merely confirmed that my feelings had already changed. I pitied her." His short laugh was self-mocking. "That's rather revealing, isn't it? I felt sorry for her because she was going to lose me."
"Is that why you chased me down today? Did you decide that since Hilary no longer suited perhaps I would fill in for her?"
"No," he said gravely. "It wasn't—isn't—like that." The glance he darted Jessa was wry. "I'm beginning to think Hilary should be rejoicing at her narrow brush with marriage and that you should be running like hell. Clearly I have a number of undesirable qualities."
"Pride isn't always undesirable," Jessa said. "And I've known about yours from the very beginning. But it might not be such a bad thing to have it bruised on occasion. It keeps one human."
"Then I'm feeling very human," he said, biting his apple again. He stopped mid-bite, reflected on the humanness of another man in a certain other garden being offered an apple, and smiled with a touch of self-derision. "Very human."
Jessa didn't comment. She wiped bread crumbs from her hands and searched the basket for cheese. "Why didn't anyone tell you what Hilary had done when it happened?"
"That's less difficult for me to understand. We McClellans are born campaigners. Every challenge requires a strategy."
"Like the Strategy to Convince Others of Wedded Bliss?" she asked arching one brow.
"Precisely," he said, chagrined. He finished off his apple and tossed the core into the river. A fish jumped at it and the water rippled. "No one thought the truth would serve; in part because they hoped to spare me, in part because they were afraid I would think them liars. They believed I only required time and distance to view Hilary in the same light they did. Hence, the voyage to England." He ran his fingers through his hair in an absent gesture. "I let them know what I thought of their meddling. That's why my father and Jericho were reluctant to interfere when you left the landing. Hours earlier I told them to allow me the privilege of handling my own affairs." He sighed. "I was furious with them. Disappointed by their maneuvering, disgusted they didn't trust me to deal with the truth."
"And you wanted to tell me that last night."
"Mm-hmm." He crossed his legs at the ankle, leaned back on his elbows and looked at Jessa consideringly. "That brings us to the wrinkle I mentioned earlier. Jessa, please don't look away. That's better. I know why you misunderstood. Your response was in keeping with what we have made of our peculiar marriage. But I don't think it's what either of us want. The question remains, what are we going to do about it?"
Jessa's words tumbled out in a rush. "I can't go on being your whore, Noah. I thought I could, but I can't. At first it only hurt, and then the hurt vanished. It makes me feel hollow inside, dead,... and dirty." She drew in a shallow breath, her eyes wide and earnest. "It's all very well that I don't hate you all the time or that your resentment of me has perhaps lessened, but what do we have? I know I'm supposed to perform certain, umm, wifely duties, but perhaps we might go on if you sought your, er, pleasures elsewhere. If you want a child, well, we could talk about that. I'm not opposed to, you know, laying with you for the purpose of having a child. But more than that... Oh, God, this is so difficult." She fidgeted with the folds of her skirt. "Help me, Noah. You know what I'm trying to say."
He sat up and moved the basket so it was no longer between them. Reaching across the space that separated them, Noah took one of Jessa's hands in his and squeezed it reassuringly. "Indeed I do, and I think you've expressed yourself very well."
"Then you agree?"
"No."
Jessa frowned. "Oh."
Withdrawing his hand, Noah turned on his side and propped himself on one elbow. "I don't want to find my, er, pleasures outside of my marriage. But I'm no more satisfied with our current arrangement than you are. I'm not proud of what has passed for loving between us. There are so many things I've said and done that I regret, but none so much as demanding intimacy against your will. There was no satisfaction in it."
Jessa's eyes widened slightly. "But—"
"I'm not speaking only of physical satisfaction," he interrupted, shaking his head. "You gave me that, yet any pleasure you felt was against your will. I didn't think it would bother me. I thought I could use you because I believed you owed me. I was wrong, Jessa. Terribly wrong." Would she believe him? "It was only yesterday morning that you turned from me and cried because you despised the pleasure you felt. Do you think I found any satisfaction in that? Or on any other occasion when you gave and took nothing in return?"
"I don't know." Jessa couldn't look at him. She fiddled with the end of her braid. "Once you said my... my pleasure was unimportant. Now you say that's not true. I doubt you know your own mind."
"I've given you every reason to believe that," he said. "But it's not true. I know precisely what it i
s I want. I've always known it, though I haven't always admitted it. Not to myself, certainly never to you."
Jessa dropped her braid and regarded him steadily, a question in her eyes.
"Affection," Noah said. "Sharing. Commitment." He paused a beat. "Trust."
Jessa merely blinked.
"Are those things so impossible between us?"
When Noah smiled at her as he was doing now, encouraging and somehow hopeful, Jessa thought anything was possible. Still, she was reluctant to give in. Noah had trampled her feelings too many times for her to surrender everything now. "I suppose those things would come in time," she said carefully. "They would be important if our marriage were to be more than the sham it is now."
"I think so," he said solemnly. "I care about your happiness too, Jessa. Could you be happy married to me?" Please say yes, he whispered to himself.
"Sometimes I think I could."
Noah's heart skipped a beat. It was a start. "We'd still argue, you know."
"I know."
"And on occasion we'd probably still hurt one another."
"But not intentionally," she said quickly.
"No, not intentionally."
Jessa thought about that. "Then it wouldn't be quite so bad."
Noah lay back on the blanket, cupping his head in his palms. He stared at the cloudless blue sky. "For all that we've done it backward, we've made some sort of beginning, haven't we?"
She nodded slowly, uncertainly. "It seems as if we have."
"And I don't have to worry about you running away in the middle of the night any longer?"
"No. That is, I don't think so."
It wasn't what he wanted to hear, but upon reflection he realized it was honest. "I suspect there will be times when I provoke you," he said, playing the devil's advocate.
"I suppose I could stand my ground."
"Oh, God, Jessa," he said feelingly. "I hope you will. I want this marriage... I want to be your husband."
Jessa was much struck by the obvious sincerity of his tone, yet her doubts were not so easily laid to rest. "How can that be, Noah, when I've complicated your life beyond reason?"
"I find I like the complications," he said. "Some of them anyway."
"You mean Gideon."
"In part, you must know I've come to love him. I should continue to love him even when we have children of our own." He opened his eyes just enough to catch Jessa's reaction. The dreamy smile on her face boded well, he thought. She was definitely not repelled by the idea of having his children. Perhaps she would not be repelled by what they had to do to conceive them. "You'd like children, wouldn't you?" he asked, closing his eyes again.
"Oh, yes! Dozens!"
Noah was definitely encouraged. "I was thinking of one at first," he said. "But your enthusiasm has been duly noted."
Jessa's cheeks turned pink. "You're teasing me."
"Yes, I think I am. Do you mind?"
"No."
"Good." He stifled a yawn and smiled sheepishly, rolling on his side once again. "I wouldn't be opposed to napping a bit before we returned to the landing. I didn't sleep very well last night. I imagine that brief nap you had in the back of the wagon wasn't restful either."
"It wasn't," she admitted, eyeing the space beside him warily.
Noah felt rather than saw her hesitation. "Just sleep, Jessa. Nothing else. You've nothing to fear."
How could he possibly know what she feared? She wasn't certain herself. Jessa covered the picnic basket again and moved it off the blanket entirely. Without a word she lay on her side, her back to Noah, and rested her head on her forearm. He made no move to narrow the space that separated them and Jessa acknowledged a keen sense of disappointment. She wanted to be held.
She waited until she heard the even cadence of his breathing before she moved closer to him. Reaching behind her, she found his arm and drew it about her waist, threading her fingers in his. She never saw the contented smile that lifted Noah's lips nor realized she fell asleep before he did.
Chapter 12
Something brushed Jessa's cheek. Sleepily she turned her head away and burrowed deeper into her pillow. As pillows went, this one was rather uncomfortable. Worse, the tickling continued. She wrinkled her nose and frowned slightly. Noah's low chuckle woke her.
"You look like a rabbit when you do that," he said, his voice not much above a whisper. "Twitching your nose, I mean. It's even a little pink."
Jessa came awake by slow degrees. She realized somewhat hazily that her pillow was Noah's shoulder and that one of her arms was lying completely across his chest. The annoying tickling wasn't a bothersome insect at all. It was the tip of her braid, which Noah was feathering over her skin. "Pink?" she asked, making no effort to move.
"Mm. Pink. A touch too much sun. I'm afraid some of the shade deserted us while we slept."
Jessa stretched leisurely and opened her eyes. She was aware that her gown had ridden up above her knees and that she had kicked off her shoes while she slept One stockinged calf lay flush to Noah's. The other covered Noah's legs with proprietal intimacy. "Oh!" She sat up quickly, pulling her braid from Noah's grasp. Her attention was caught by Noah's soft groan as he also sat up and shook out his right arm.
"It fell asleep along with the rest of me," he told her.
Jessa realized it was the arm that had been supporting her head. "You should have pushed me away."
Noah's eyebrows shot upward and he slanted her a disbelieving look. "It was never a consideration. I like having you in my arms. Did you doubt it?"
Rather than answer, Jessa busied herself by unwinding her braid. She combed her hair with her fingers, smoothed it, and began plaiting it again. Noah caught her wrist, stopping her.
"I like it loose best of all," he said. "Leave it that way." He glanced away, feeling much like a schoolboy under her startled, yet direct stare. "Please."
It would have been much cooler to keep the braid but Jessa relented because she found herself willing to please him, not so much for Noah's sake as for her own. It had been so long since she truly wanted to do something he asked of her that it was almost a pleasure to acquiesce. Her hands dropped away from her hair and fell quietly in her lap. She searched for something to say. "It's hot," she said finally, wondering why conversation was so difficult. Perhaps it had something to do with the way she had abandoned herself in his arms while they slept.
"Very hot," Noah agreed. He turned to her suddenly, his eyes bright with eagerness. "Would you like to go swimming?"
"Sw-swimming? In the river?"
"Of course in the river."
"Won't it be cold?"
He laughed. "That's the idea."
"But I don't know how to swim."
"You don't?" That hadn't occurred to him. He'd been swimming almost as long as he had been riding.
Both activities were as natural as walking. "Then you should learn," he said confidently. "It's not difficult." He stood up and pulled her with him. "Come on. You can wear your shift."
She shook her head. "Perhaps another time. You go on. I'll watch."
Noah looked over his shoulder at the river. It was very inviting. "You wouldn't mind?"
"Not at all." She smiled. "Truly. Go ahead."
Noah didn't require any more encouragement, though he was disappointed Jessa wouldn't join him. "Very well. But you're missing a treat." He hopped about on one foot while he took off one boot and then the other. Dropping them on the blanket, he quickly stripped down to his drawers and tossed Jessa his shirt as soon as he pulled it over his head.
Jessa tried very hard not to notice certain things about Noah as he walked to the river's edge. She failed miserably. It was not possible for her to be unaware of the breadth of his shoulders or the tapering of his waist. He might not have been wearing drawers at all for the way the material clung to his hips and thighs. And when he came out of the water—oh, God—it would be worse! She busied herself folding his clothes into a neat pile and missed the moment
he waded into the water and dove in.
"Jessa!" he called, swimming on his back away from her. "You should at least get your feet wet! It's splendid!"
"And you're a splendid liar, Noah McClellan! I can see your blue lips and hear your teeth chattering from here." He merely laughed and ducked under the water, resurfacing a few moments later downstream. Jessa had already moved down the bank, anxiously awaiting his reappearance. "Don't do that! I haven't the least idea how to save you if you don't come up again!"
"All the more reason you should learn to swim," he said, using powerful strokes to move upstream against the current.
"I've no desire to become fish fodder."
"Coward," he goaded.
"Hah! You won't get me in that way! I warned you long ago that I was a coward!"
Noah wondered if she could see the gleam in his eye. Apparently she could because she was backing away slowly from where the water lapped at her stockinged feet. Jessa held out her hands to ward him off as Noah swam closer to the bank. She laughed shakily, darting a glance around her, looking for escape when Noah began wading toward her.
"Noah! Don't come any closer!"
He ignored her.
Jessa ran for the blanket, picked up the picnic basket, and whipped off the cover. Watching Noah's purposeful advance, she dug her hand blindly into the basket and pulled out a hard-boiled egg. "Stop right there, Noah! I'll throw this at you!"
Noah paused, grinning. "You wouldn't."
"I would!" Lord, she thought, what his smile did to her insides. Her eyes grazed over his figure. Droplets of water glistened on his shoulders and chest. And his waterlogged drawers were precariously close to falling past his narrow hips.
Seeing the direction of her gaze, Noah squeezed some of the water out of the fabric and retied the drawstring tightly. "Better?" he asked.
"I wouldn't know," she said tartly. "I wasn't looking."
Noah's taut belly rippled with laughter. "And you called me a liar? Methinks you deserve a dunking for that."
"You wouldn't!" She retreated a few more steps, holding the egg aloft, prepared to throw it. "You promised you wouldn't pitch me in the river!"