Moonlight Rebel

by Ferrarella, Marie

  Her voice, soft, melodic, without a waver to it, broke the stillness. "What is your name?"

  "What?" Lost in his own thoughts, he hadn't heard her. Jason bent his head closer to her.

  His breath was on her cheek, and she shivered. Why? she asked herself. She certainly was not cold, not with his body pressed so closely about her. In addition, his arms encircled her in case, she surmised, she had any ideas of leaping off the horse and running away. He needn't have worried. She was not about to do that again. They were riding straight into the woods. She had a fear of getting lost in the forest at night.

  "Your name," she repeated. "I do not know your name."

  So, she has curiosity. They were making slow progress. "Jason," he told her. "Jason McKinley."

  "McKinley," she repeated softly. Her voice was answered by the hoot of an owl. She strove not to shiver.

  It sounds like a song, he thought, when she says it. He longed to hear her repeat his given name. "Yes, it's Welsh, although there's a lot of Irish in our family and my father's part Scottish as well."

  But Krystyna wasn't listening. She was rolling his surname over in her mind. McKinley. McKinley. Wasn't that the name of the man her uncle had been working for?

  "Did you recently have an overseer who died?" she asked suddenly.

  Her question caught him totally off guard. Was she a witch? He felt her body rocking against him. No, this was a flesh-and-blood woman, he'd stake his immortal soul on that. Then how did she know? She had admitted to being a stranger.

  "We had one who disappeared. Damn strange, really. Jan wasn't the kind of man who'd do something like that. He was expecting his brother to come and join him, soon. Talked about nothing else." Jason stopped abruptly. "Was that his brother?" he asked. "Your father, was he his brother?" he repeated when she gave no answer.

  Krystyna did a quick reevaluation of the situation. She decided to risk telling him the truth. She needed to find out just how much he did know about them. "Yes. My father said that Uncle Jan had secured a position for him on the plantation."

  Jason wondered why the old man hadn't said anything about her to his father. Jan had only talked about his brother coming. "He made no mention of a niece."

  "Women are not important where I come from," she lied. Her uncle had made no mention of her on her father's request. If no one knew she was coming, they could not search for her here.

  It was a pretty universal attitude. Still... "I can't see anyone thinking you unimportant," Jason muttered under his breath.

  The remark pleased her, even though it was only words coming from a barbarian. "Did Uncle Jan tell you why my father was coming?" she prodded.

  "For his health, I think my father said." The irony of the remark struck him. The man would have been better off staying where he was. "Why?"

  "No reason. I just wondered." Krystyna tried to keep her voice casual as she asked, "When did he . . . disappear?" She turned in the saddle, trying to see his expression.

  Jason caught her profile. His eyes strayed to her lips. They looked warm, inviting. Perhaps he should have taken Eileen up on her invitation at the tavern. Then his mind would have been clearer. He had a feeling he needed his wits about him with this woman.

  "About two weeks ago. One morning, he was just gone. His things were there, but he had disappeared from the plantation. Jeremiah thought he saw him going off with a couple of men the night before, heading toward his cabin. That was the last anyone ever saw of him."

  "Jeremiah?" Krystyna repeated slowly. God, these Americans had strange sounding names.

  "One of our slaves," Jason clarified.

  "Then you do own people." Her throat tightened as she thought of the "document" Jason held, giving him rights over her.

  "I don't. My father does, and I'm not about to get into a discussion with you on that subject. We hear enough of both sides at the prayer meetings."

  She didn't answer him. She was too busy trying to sort out the things he had just said to her. Krystyna was more worried than ever about her situation. Uncle Jan was probably dead, just as that awful man had said. That left her entirely alone with no one to help her, except possibly Thaddeus. But who knew when he would come, and even if he did, how would he find her? This America was so big, it was a wonder anyone ever found anything or anyone in it.

  They rode in silence, each thinking, each preoccupied with a puzzle, the pieces of which had been supplied by the other person, until they arrived at a small clearing. Within the circle of his arms, Krystyna had begun to bob a little from side to side, and Jason guessed that she was falling asleep. He took pity on her and decided that this was as good a place as any to stop for the night.

  He pulled on the reins, and she awoke with a start as the horse came to a halt. "Are we here?" Sleep encroaching on her brain, making everything hazy, she looked around, dazed. They were still in the forest. Disappointment filled her.

  Something dark scurried into the trees not more than five feet away. Krystyna caught her breath. Her eyes remained glued to the spot as she allowed Jason to help her off the horse.

  "No, I thought you might like to lie down for a few hours." Jason untied the bedroll from the back of his saddle. "You look totally worn out."

  "I am tired," she admitted, guessing at his meaning. Not everything had been covered in those lessons of hers. Her teacher had been a man who learned English from an American so she had gotten her idioms third hand. The gap in her education was evident to her as she listened to Jason.

  She watched as he spread out the blanket on the ground and then gestured toward it. "Thank you."

  Satisfied that she had been taken care of, Jason leaned against a tree, his musket spread across his knees, ready for whatever might come.

  "Are you going to sleep like that?" Exhausted, Krystyna lay down on the ground. She was too tired to notice that it was hard.

  "Just catnap," he answered. "Never know what could be around. You get all the sleep you can. I'll wake you when it's time to go."

  No one heard his words but the night animals. Krystyna was already asleep. Jason smiled to himself as he watched her.

  Chapter Six

  Her scream woke Jason with a start. His hand reflexively tightened around his musket. He looked around quickly, his eyes focusing on shapes in the darkness, his brain sharply alert. There was no one around save for the two of them.

  He heard her quick intake of breath, the soft, muffled sobs. Krystyna lay huddled, shivering on the ground, no longer wrapped in his blanket. That had been fitfully cast off. She was crying in her sleep.

  Jason gently turned her around. "Krystyna?" Her face was streaked with tears. Too proud to give in to her emotions while awake, she had dropped her guard in sleep.

  Jason rocked back on his heels. So, she was human after all. Looking at her, he could only surmise that she was reliving the past few hours. His heart went out to her. Newly arrived in a strange country only to have everything stripped away from her. What a horrid experience for anyone.

  Murmuring soothing words, Jason raised her into his arms tenderly. God, but she was beautiful. Even crying, with her hair plastered against her wet cheek, she made his heart ache just from looking at her.

  "Shh." He held her close against his chest, giving her his warmth, hoping to soothe her. Trying not to notice how good she felt in his arms. "You're all right now. It's over, Princess. It's all over. You're safe, here with me."

  Krystyna awoke with a start, grasping at his arm, and then, just as suddenly, pushing him away. She gulped snatches of air, trying to steady herself. There was kindness in his eyes, and concern. Hungry for comfort and still half-asleep, she allowed the soothing sound of his voice to break down her barriers. With a deep, troubled sigh, she sank into the warm sanctuary of his arms.

  Holding her, Jason rocked slightly, the way a man would with a small child he was trying to quiet.

  Her hands tightened around Jason's forearms. There was a terrible need in her to be comforted.
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  "Let it all come out," he coaxed. "And then you can put it behind you."

  The sobs stopped abruptly as Krystyna struggled for control. She felt so lost and alone that she could barely stand it.

  The feel of her body against his was overcoming his best instincts. The desire to comfort was at odds with his growing longing for her. Her torn blouse had all but fallen off. As he held her against him, the jacket he had given her parted, allowing him to feel her breasts against him. It seemed the very fabric of his clothing had been burned away. Jason felt desire spill through him, surging and pulsating at the mere thought of touching her, of slowly sliding his hand along the soft, silky planes of her breasts. The way they had looked, gleaming white in the moonlight when he had first laid eyes on her, vividly came back to him.

  Gently, he stroked her hair, fighting an internal battle he was doomed to lose. He had saved her from near rape that very night, he reminded himself. How could she ever trust another man again if he were to try to take her now? But in all of his life, he had never encountered such a captivating, fiery-looking woman. Desire shimmered through him, warm and demanding. If he were to take her, it would not be the way that other man had tried. He would use kindness and tenderness, keeping his own desire in check until he had her willing to surrender to him. There will be no force, he swore to himself, the ache growing until he could hardly bear it.

  Krystyna wiped her face with the back of her hand, taking a deep breath of air to still the trembling she felt within. Jason slowly brushed the hair from her face, his fingertips lightly

  gliding along her cheeks. Her heart began to hammer within her breast as another sensation, one she did not quite understand began to grow inside her. It was a yearning that filled her. She felt incredibly warm, and the warmth was spreading as she allowed herself to be held by this bearded man.

  She tried to pull away, but found that she had no strength in her arms. She couldn't free herself of the need she felt to be held by Jason despite her mounting horror of the compromising situation she was in. She was clinging to him even as she told herself to push him away.

  Placing his fingers beneath her chin, Jason turned her face up toward his, and liquid blue eyes suddenly held him captive, mesmerizing him as surely as if she had cast a spell over him. Yet, in them he saw a frightened child, a beautiful, sensuous, but frightened child.

  "You're far too beautiful to cry." Jason took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. And then, because he couldn't help himself, his lips moved to hers very slowly. He saw her eyes opened wide in mute astonishment.

  The kiss was gentle, but the passion beneath it unfurled in waves, taking Jason by surprise. Taking his very breath away. He had not known that such a hunger existed just under the surface.

  What stunned him even more was the passion he had uncovered within her.

  Krystyna did not fully understand what was happening to her. She could not comprehend why her senses were reeling in this fashion. When that beast in the alley had tried to force himself on her, all she had felt was revulsion and disgust. A sense of horror and outrage brought home every movement to her in crystal-clear detail. Yet, now she was engulfed in a swirling fire, a fire that she willingly endured.

  As Jason's kisses deepened, becoming more arduous, her response heightened, matching his passion. His body pressed against hers, and she was aware of the sharp, thrilling outline of a man who wanted a woman. She had only a vague idea of what happened between men and women during those dark, secret times no one would speak of. That was the only topic she had never been able to find anyone willing to talk to her about. Maruska only muttered that it was something she would have to endure for the good of the lineage. There had never been any mention of pleasure, of lights that winked in and out through her head like wild fireflies during a summer night. There had never been any talk of overwhelming heat, or of taking leave of one's senses.

  What little Krystyna did know about physical mergings came from pieces of overheard conversations and from seeing farm animals mate. But the mating of animals was accompanied by groans and shrieks. It had been repellent.

  Now this, this was different. This felt frighteningly wonderful.

  She tasted of honey, of all things sweet and good, and he would never have enough of her. She was like a madness for him; he wanted to lose himself in her, never to surface again. The power she had over him, though she hardly knew it, frightened Jason. Yet he could not stop himself. Not if his very life demanded it. He kissed her neck, her throat, breathing words of endearment against her flesh and sending warm shivers cascading throughout his own body. With a near reverence that outstripped the fire burning within him, he touched her softly, stroking her breasts.

  Krystyna caught her breath, her pulse pounding with excitement. And fear. No one had ever touched her there —not with her permission. She had felt nothing but outrage when Andrej had tried. There was no outrage now, only a desire for more. The more he caressed her, the more passion surged within her.

  Everything was out of control again. She had never been so frightened before.

  "No!" With trembling hands that felt as if they belonged to someone else, Krystyna pushed Jason from her and then turned her face away.

  He felt frustrated, bewildered. She had brought him up to a crest and then had suddenly dashed him to the rocks below. Trying to steady his own racing heart, he stared at Krystyna. Belatedly, he realized that she was trying to muffle her sobs.

  Guilt licked at him as he reached for her. With an oath, she shrank away from his touch. "Hush now," he murmured. Lightly, he ran a hand over her hair. "I'd never hurt you, Krys."

  Her eyes were bright and icy blue as she turned to look at him. "You already have." For he had wounded her heart, had caused her to behave like some simple farm girl. He had made her forget who and what she was. She could not be ruled by passion, by heated blood, no matter how tempting his lips were.

  The accusation in her eyes left him utterly at a loss, and he nearly cursed the moment he had come to her rescue. Nearly.

  "I was just trying to comfort you." He reached for her in an effort to calm her down.

  "Comfort?" Krystyna swatted away his hand. Her fingertips stung his flesh. Jason stared at her in surprise, his anger mounting. "Is that the name for it here? It looked to me as if you rescued me from the others just to have me for yourself. Is that the American way?"

  "Don't flatter yourself, Princess. I saved you because you needed saving, not because I wanted you." Then. But oh, how he did now.

  "Then what were you just doing?" Inwardly she swore at the tear that trickled down her cheek.

  Tears. He had hurt her. His own damn needs had gotten in the way and colored his actions. Jason's tone softened. He hadn't meant to harm her. Or to frighten her. "You were having a nightmare and crying. I tried to get you to wake up."

  Did he think she was a fool? "By covering my mouth with your own?"

  He grinned easily. She had a short fuse, and for some reason, that tickled him. "One does what one has to, Princess."

  His words were met with more of her own. But this time he didn't understand them. She was peppering him with a barrage of accusations spoken in her native language, and Jason found himself grateful that his education was limited in that respect. He had a feeling that he would not have found her outbursts flattering.

  As her tirade continued, Jason moved away and eased himself back against the trunk of the tree. His body still hummed from needs that were left unmet. But there will be another time, he promised himself.

  He glanced in Krystyna's direction. For a ha'penny, he'd take her back into his arms and show her things he had a feeling she really wanted to be shown. But the frightened look in her eyes came back to him, and he held himself in check. She needed time. And, in a way, so did he.

  "You're going to wear yourself out," he warned, "Going on like that."

  She found it difficult to hold her temper in check, but her training won out. "I have brough
t dishonor to my family. I would deem it a great favor if you would not speak of this to anyone. On your word of honor. If you have any."

  Perhaps she was royalty at that. She certainly spoke like someone accustomed to giving orders. "Just what do you take me for? I'm not the type to talk about what happens between a lady and myself."

  Krystyna looked down at her hands. They were clenched in her lap. She believed him. She had no idea why, but she believed him.

  "I wouldn't want to offend, or," the smile in his voice had her raising her eyes and looking in his direction, "spoil the chance of another interlude with you."

  She wasn't certain what the word meant, but she could guess. The glint in his eyes told her all she needed to know. "Nothing will ever happen between us again."

  He merely smiled in response. It was a soft smile, but it left no room for doubt or argument. "Don't place any money on that, Princess."

  Fisted hands rested on her hips as her eyes shot sparks at him. "You are insufferable!"

  "Maybe," he agreed, "but if you don't want any further problems with an 'insufferable' man, I suggest you button that jacket I gave you. You're presenting a picture that's far too tempting to resist for long."

  Krystyna thrust her hands over the jacket, pulling it closed, her cheeks flaming as a soft chuckle met her ears. She looked uncertainly down at the blanket and then back at Jason.

  He read her meaning. "Don't worry, I won't touch you tonight. You can go back to sleep."

  Uneasily, she lay down. After what seemed a long time, she calmed down sufficiently to close her eyes. Soon, she fell into a dreamless sleep.

  The sounds of men fighting and shouting roused her. Jumping to her feet, she saw that Jason was struggling with the two who had tried to ravage her. He must have fallen asleep, she thought, and those animals managed to sneak up on him.

  Jason kicked Fargo in the face, and the man yelped, releasing his hold on Jason's legs. As Jason tried to scramble to his feet, Peter pulled out a knife, his target Jason's belly. Uttering a cry, he brought his knife down, missing. He was hit from behind. Smoke plumed from the musket as the sound of a shot echoed through the forest. Peter pitched forward, dead, as Jason rolled out of the way.