She waited for his answer, but he was silent as a stone, his expression equally hard.
“Being loved is what matters.” She searched his eyes. “I pity you if you are determined to live the rest of your life without it.”
He maintained his silence. Bella’s frustration grew to a crashing crescendo.
“Have you nothing to say?” she demanded.
“You know it must always be thus,” he told her at last. “My little romantic, I’m afraid I don’t even believe in love.”
His pronouncement took her by surprise. Such a dearth of passion had not even occurred to her. “It’s not possible,” she denied. “You cannot profess to be an admirer of poetry and great literature and not believe in love.”
Jesse’s sculpted mouth quirked into a self-deprecating smile. “I haven’t seen much to convince me the kinder nature of man or woman exists.”
She noted he had said man or woman. Perhaps she had finally hit upon the crux of the matter. “Has a woman hurt you?”
His gaze grew even more shuttered. “Let us say I was very unwise in my youth and have never forgotten the lessons taught me.”
He’d suffered a broken heart at the hands of another woman. She was stunned, both that she’d never before thought of such a possibility and that he admitted it. Still, she supposed she shouldn’t be so taken aback.
Of course he would have loved before. He was over ten years her senior. He had lived an entire life before meeting her. There would necessarily be ladies in his past. But even if her rational brain told her it was only natural, jealousy stirred within her. She hated to think another woman had experienced his heated embrace, his kisses. Perhaps another woman had even lain naked with him and experienced the pleasures to which she had been newly introduced.
The thought almost made her ill.
“Were you in love?” she asked, needing to satisfy her curiosity though it might well prove upsetting.
“I was a blind fool,” he said lowly. “You’d be amazed how ruthless people can be to one another. Maybe it’s war that brings out the monsters in us all. But I’ve seen the cruel side of human nature and I can’t say I ever wish to see it again.”
There was far more, she sensed, to what he was telling her. He must have loved the mysterious woman from his past. He must have loved her very much. There was still the pain of betrayal in his voice when he spoke, still a strong tide of bitterness.
Bella touched his coat sleeve. “Whoever she was, she certainly wasn’t worthy of you.”
“It was a long, long time ago.”
But not so long ago that it didn’t haunt him still. An unaccountable wave of sadness washed over her. “I wish I could rewrite your history.”
He withdrew from her touch. The void between them was almost tangible. “Our histories make us who we are, the bad as much as the good.”
Perhaps he had no regrets. She knew she had no right to feel possessive of him, but her stubborn heart refused to consider him a lost cause. “I suppose you’re correct. But surely there’s no harm in wanting to replace the bad with good.”
“I’m afraid that’s a Sisyphean feat.”
“Do you think if we had met before,” she began, only to allow the sentiment to trail away. Like so many things, it was likely best left unspoken.
“We cannot change who we are or what we’ve done. The book is yours to keep,” he said in a tone devoid of emotion. “Do with it what you will, Lady Bella. It’s all I can give you.”
He offered her a formal bow and turned away.
She watched him leave, feeling quite helpless. She wanted so much more from him than a mere spine and set of inked pages. But if he remained unwilling to overcome his misguided loyalty to her brother and the demons of his past, what choice did she truly have? He could have taken her that night in his chamber and he had not. Perhaps the time had come for her to put an end to the mad tendre of her youth at long last.
After his beloved figure had disappeared from view, she stood for a long time in the garden path with the great hedges towering over her. She glanced back down at the pretty volume in her hands, opening it to make a disquieting discovery.
Mr. Browning had dedicated the collection of poems to his wife.
As the second and final week of her house party neared its end, Lady Cosgrove crowned her success as a hostess with a Shakespeare-themed mask ball. It was generally considered to be the most important event of the entire fortnight. Ordinarily, Bella would have been aflutter with excitement. She’d chosen her costume with great care. But she couldn’t summon up much enthusiasm given the doldrums that plagued her.
She danced with the Duke of Devonshire as if she were an automaton, listening to him with half a mind while she searched the throng of revelers for Jesse. He was the man in whose arms she longed to be. Meanwhile, the dowager preened like a happy little owl from a corner of the ballroom, secure in her hopes that Bella would finally snag herself a coronet as a matrimonial prize.
After she politely disengaged herself from Devonshire, time crept by for Bella with the speed of a century. Still no sign of Jesse, drat the man. She had to admit to herself he was the only person she longed to see even as she was approached by a series of gentlemen. She danced to pass the time. She flirted to cure her boredom. She kept a false smile on her lips and tried not to think too much about how dreadful and empty her life would be without Jesse in the coming months.
After the house party was over, he would be returning to London while Bella would be off to her brother’s country seat, Marleigh Manor. She knew not when or if she would see him again. The mere thought left her feeling as if a gaping hole had been torn into her heart. It seemed impossible to think that only a fortnight had passed and yet her life had been so irrevocably altered.
As she completed yet another tiresome round of dancing, her eyes at last found him. She barely managed to mumble a few required pleasantries to her partner. She caught Jesse’s gaze from across the ballroom and her knees nearly gave out. They hadn’t spoken since the day he’d left her in the gardens. In the interim, she’d read the entire volume of Browning poems twice. Jesse never strayed from her thoughts.
A great rush of yearning swept over her. Bella wanted to close the distance between them. She wanted him to take her up in his arms, kiss her as if he might never have another chance to do so in his life. Heat pooled low in her belly. She wanted him to make love to her. Blessed angels, she’d never wanted anything more in her life. Their sinful encounter had only left her hungry for more.
But he was not meant to be hers, and she had better reconcile herself to that sad fact. She forced herself to turn away from him and give him the cut. There was no use in longing after a man who would not have her.
Tears threatened her vision. Hoping no one would see her, she escaped through a side door into the moonlit gardens. The night was unseasonably cool, but she almost didn’t even feel the nip of the chill air on her skin. With a sigh, she made her way down a path, trying to admire the last of the lovely blooms Lord and Lady Cosgrove had cultivated. Trying to ignore the emptiness in her heart.
“‘When I do come, she will speak not, she will stand, either hand on my shoulder, give her eyes the first embrace of my face.’”
It was a velvety drawl she’d never forget. She spun, heart in her throat. There he was, golden and beautiful on the gravel walk behind her, silver moonbeams catching in his glorious hair. He was unbearably gorgeous. Bella recognized the words he spoke. She’d read Love Among the Ruins at least a dozen times since he’d bestowed the Browning volume upon her.
“‘Ere we rush, ere we extinguish sight and speech’,” Bella quoted the next line of the stanza back to him.
“‘Each on each’,” he finished, his expression as somber as his tone. “You committed it to memory.”
She studied him with equal solemnity even though she longed to rush into his arms. “A wise man told me the poem was a favorite of his.”
“Not so wise, I’
m afraid.” He ran a hand through his already tousled blond locks. “More like a fool.”
She couldn’t help but to recall how smooth that golden hair of his had felt in her hands. She wanted to feel it again. She wanted the enchantment of his touch once more. The desire between them was almost palpable, simmering beneath their mutually polite exteriors.
“Why a fool?” she asked, seeking to delay the moment when they would need to return to the ball to stave off whispers. They would have to go back to being acquaintances, would have to dance with others, pretend they’d never shared anything more intimate than a Robert Browning poem. She tried to stop a swift stab of despair from cutting through her.
His stare was hot upon her. “Because of all the beautiful ladies in attendance tonight, I have eyes for only one.”
Her stomach upended as if she were riding on a runaway stagecoach. “Whom?”
“You know I speak of you, Bella.” He paused and exhaled as if trying to maintain his composure. “Damn it, you are the loveliest Juliet I’ve ever seen.”
She swallowed, suddenly nervous. “Thank you.” She examined his costume in an effort to distract herself. He wore a black velvet coat and Elizabethan shirt beneath, but the effect was more pirate than sixteenth century. “And who do you pretend to be this evening, Mr. Whitney?”
He grinned in truth then, his deadly dimple reappearing. He was a wickedly handsome man. “Can you not tell? I am the bard himself.” He dropped into a formal bow as Bella devoured him with her eyes. “Mr. William Shakespeare, at your service.”
Bella laughed. “But you don’t look in the least bit like him. He had dark hair, for one thing, and for another, you are far more fine-looking than he was.”
The moment the unabashed observation left her lips, she regretted it. Oh dear. She ought not to have spoken so freely. She busied herself with readjusting the pleats on her voluminous skirts.
“Thank you,” he said, his tone low and intimate.
Her senses were clouded by his nearness, by the faint but delicious scent of him on the wind. She had never wanted to rush headlong into sin more in her life. He made her into a true wanton. Images of what he had done to her flashed through her traitorous mind. It was time to steer her sailboat into safer harbors.
“What are you doing out here?” she asked suddenly, determined to distract herself.
She hadn’t meant to be so abrupt, but neither could she help herself. It seemed as much as she tried to keep away from him, he was equally determined to cross her path. And yet he would not bend.
Jesse raised a brow. “I might ask you the same.”
“I was in need of air,” she lied, holding her breath as he closed the separation between them.
He stood so close her skirts brushed his legs. “I must admit I was surprised you had chosen Juliet this evening, knowing your proclivity for happy endings.”
Why did he have to recall every conversation they’d ever shared with that pristine memory of his? It made her love him all the more. “Though she is a sad figure, I do admire the romance of her story,” Bella admitted.
“Ever the romantic.” He smiled, tipping up her chin. His hand lingered in a caress. “Sweet Bella, does your heart know no bounds?”
“I do not wish it to,” she said, captivated by the intensity of his gaze. “I would ever be free to roam and love as I wish rather than be a captive in a gilded cage.”
“Who would seek to cage you?” He drew even nearer, quite discomfiting her.
“I know not,” she whispered, frozen as his fingers trailed a path of wickedness down her neck to her décolletage. “Only that I would never wish to be so confined.”
“Speaking of cages, did you enjoy your dance with the Duke of Dullness?”
Bella was surprised to realize he had been in the crowd all along, watching her. “You noticed?”
“For the first time in my life, I envied another man.” The admission was seemingly wrenched from him.
She absorbed that thrilling bit of knowledge. “To be candid, I wished he were you for the entire duration of the waltz.”
He traced the line of her neck in a whisper of a caress, stopping to tilt up her chin. “You’ll be the death of me, but the more I touch you the more I don’t give a damn.”
Bella pressed her eyes closed for a moment, fighting to keep the tentative grip she maintained on her fleeing composure. “It’s the same for me.”
Jesse lowered his lips to hers in a swift, possessive kiss. “I cannot have enough of you, Bella. No matter how hard I try to stay away, I’m always back at your side.”
She cupped his beloved face, searching his gaze. “Why must you stay away? I fear very much that we will soon be apart forever.”
His hands swept down to grasp her waist, pulling her more firmly against his hard body. “Why? Surely you aren’t planning on wedding the Duke of Dullness?”
Twin fires of jealousy burned in his eyes. Bella was pleased. It seemed he wasn’t as immune to her as she had supposed. Unless she was mistaken, he didn’t particularly relish the prospect of her nuptials with another man. Good. Let him suffer as I have. Perhaps he would bend after all.
“What if I were to marry the duke?” She wanted an admission from Jesse. A white flag of surrender. Anything was better than the aloof stranger who set her body aflame with one stolen embrace and then ignored her the next day.
His grip tightened on her. “You must do as you wish, Lady Bella.”
She wanted to shake the truth out of him. Drat him for being so stubborn, so unwilling to show her the man beneath his marble exterior. “Shall I be another man’s wife, then?”
Perhaps she was relentless, but she had discovered it was a necessary trait in any row with Jesse Whitney. He remained silent, looking down at her as if he weren’t certain if he should push her away from him or hold her closer.
“Shall I, Jesse?”
“Damn you,” he growled. “You know very well that I don’t want any man to have you but me.”
She exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. A warm sensation of victory stirred within her. “You want me?”
He caught her hand in his and pressed it between them, allowing her to feel the ridge of his cock. She gasped, stunned that he would be so bold with a ballroom of guests not far away but nonetheless eager. It was what she had wanted all along, to break the polite barriers between them. Something about this time was different. There was a heaviness in the air, passion and possibility sparking hot and heady between them.
“I want you as I have never wanted another woman in my life, Bella.” His voice was pure velvet-laden desire.
She rose on her tiptoes to kiss him. “I want you too, Jesse. Very much.”
He stilled. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I have always known.” She pressed a kiss to his mouth again, winding her arms around his neck. “Always, from the first time I met you in the library at Marleigh Manor so long ago.”
“Christ,” he said on a groan. “You have no idea how many times I’ve thought of taking you since the night you came to my chamber. If the war wasn’t enough to make me mad, surely you are.”
They were interrupted by a lady’s giggle and a low rumbling male voice. Jesse pulled her into the shadows, holding her against him. She buried her face in his coat and savored his scent. His heart thumped beneath her ear in a steady, reassuring rhythm. A hushed silence fell over them again as the couple wandered off into the gardens, clearly intent upon the same furtive coupling.
They remained in the shadows, embracing. Bella pulled his head down to hers for another lingering kiss. His tongue sank into her mouth, claiming. Desire uncoiled within her, leaving her entire body sensitive. Her breasts ached and tingled. Wetness pooled between her legs, along with a slow and steady yearning. His hands moved to cup her breasts through the layers of her dress, tightening her nipples into hard little pebbles. She moaned, wanting more.
He pulled away a bit t
o look down at her. “Bella, I have to stop or you’ll be on the ground in the next breath.”
“Stop?” There was disappointment in her tone. She didn’t want to stop. Not in the least. “Why must we?”
“Because all I can think of is that you’ve never been more lovely aside from when you were naked in my arms.” He dipped a finger inside her bodice, between the swells of her breasts. “And I very much want to be inside you right now.”
She feared she would swoon. Her entire body was wound as tightly as a spring. “You mustn’t say such things to me. It’s vastly unfair.”
“I can’t seem to help myself.”
“Nor can I.”
“I don’t want you to marry the Duke of Dullness,” he said suddenly. “I don’t even want you to dance with the son-of-a-bitch again.”
“I shan’t,” she reassured him.
He cursed, pressing his forehead to hers. “I will come to you tonight, Bella. You have the next few hours to decide whether or not you will open the door to me.”
She started to tell him that of course she would open the door, but he hushed her.
“No. We will not be hasty.” He kissed her, hard and quick. “Think very carefully, darling.”
Then he released her and stalked off into the night, leaving Bella to stare after him, her heart beating the staccato pace of a galloping horse. Blessed angels’ sakes. Jesse Whitney was coming to her tonight. Nervousness blended with anticipation inside her. She didn’t have to decide whether or not she would welcome him. She already knew.
Belatedly, it occurred to her that he had called her darling.
nce alone, Jesse regained a small measure of his sanity. He hadn’t been thinking straight, possessed as he’d been by potent lust, when he’d told Bella he’d come to her. But now, his passion had cooled enough for guilt to begin seeping back into his consciousness.
He was faced with the most difficult decision he’d made in his life. Should he go to Bella’s chamber or stay the hell away? He stalked around the gardens in the cool darkness, at war with himself. His rational mind, of course, knew the answer. But the rest of him was another matter. The rest of him wanted nothing more than to make her his in the most primitive sense. It didn’t matter that he would ruin her innocence or betray his friendship.
Rebel Love (Heart's Temptation Book 2) Page 9