Moonlight Lover

by Ferrarella, Marie

  He hadn't harmed her only because she was armed. Rachel had no doubts of that. She lowered the musket slightly in order to see him better.

  "And the situation will stay that way, Redcoat." She raised the musket again, the barrel level with his chest. "Now, will you be leaving? Or is it possible that you'd like to be entertaining a brand new opening upon your chest?”

  By God, she'd do it, given the chance, he thought. "You do have a persuasive way of arguing." He took a step to leave, then turned. "Oh, one word of advice before I go."

  Who the hell did he think he was, telling her what he thought she should do? "I'll not be taking advice from the likes of you."

  His eyes slid over her and Rachel shivered. She could literally feel the languid stroke along her skin. Her fingers tightened on the musket involuntarily.

  Sin-Jin smiled. "I'll give it anyway. Don't go parading around in your nightshirt before an open fire." He nodded toward it. "The men around here aren't all as strong-willed as I am."

  She opened her eyes wide and looked down at her nightshirt, her chin pressing against her throat. Embarrassment flamed her cheeks as she suddenly realized just how much of her this heathen stranger's questing blue eyes had managed to take in. Her head shot up, murder glittering in her own.

  "Why you bastard—"

  He decided that he liked the look of anger on her. It colored her cheeks so that roses seemed to be blooming there. Sin-Jin lowered his right hand and tipped the brim of his hat politely.

  "No m'am, I'm only a second son, but that's nearly as bad." Humor danced in his eyes. God, but she was a rare-looking woman to stir the blood. "But if you don't want to beget yourself, I'd douse the fire or wrap myself up in something if I were you. Otherwise—"

  He heard the trigger cock and acted instinctively. His hand shot up, hitting the barrel so that the muzzle was pointed toward the roof if the musket went off. When it didn't, he seized it from her and tossed it aside.

  Defenseless, Rachel became enraged. "Why you grave-robbing bastard! You cur! You—"

  She lapsed into Gaelic, peppering Sin-Jin's soul with a hail of curses to make his ancestors spin in their graves. Rachel raised her knee, aiming her blow. Sin-Jin shifted and she lost her target, meeting only empty air. Another curse landed on him, damning his lineage eternally to the fires of hell.

  Grabbing her shoulders, Sin-Jin was tempted to shake her until she was silent. Instead, he pushed her against the wall, trapping her body with his own. As he pressed against her, holding her immobile, desire spurted through him, racing like a hound to the hunter's horn. The wild look in her eyes drove him on, heating his blood.

  "If I'm going to be damned by you," Sin-Jin's words were barely a whisper, skimming along her mouth, "I might as well do something to earn it."

  She could taste his words upon her lips. Air lodged in her throat and she struggled against him, succeeding, she realized, only in arousing him. And stirring something to life within herself.

  Her eyes held his as terror and something far more powerful blended to form a net around her. "You wouldn't dare."

  Before the words sprang from her lips, she saw her mistake. She had challenged him.

  And there was nowhere to go.

  Sin-Jin's mouth touched hers. He meant only to take the smallest of samples. He wasn't in the habit of forcing himself on a woman, even if he was slightly intoxicated. Besides, meeting the point of her musket had sobered him enough so that he had nothing to blame for his actions but himself.

  And her.

  He only wanted to pay her back for her posturing and, perhaps, to frighten her a trifle for her refusal to see his good deed for what it was.

  Under no circumstances had he any intentions of enjoying the kiss more than a little.

  Oh, but it was more than a little. Far more than he had bargained for.

  Ripe, her mouth was ripe, like fresh strawberries picked in the warmth of midsummer. Ripe and sweet, yet with a heady intoxication that could only be ascribed to the finest of aged wines. His head, already sufficiently muddled from Sam's ale, now spun so that the earth tilted beneath his feet at the very taste of her.

  Sin-Jin's hold tightened on her shoulders, as he attempted to steady himself, yet keeping her with him lest she somehow slip away.

  Knowing he shouldn't, he plunged further into the feast, his mouth savoring every crumb there was, craving more, knowing that if there was more, there was no possible way he could remain standing.

  Fear joined hands with an incredible wave of exhilaration. Though she knew she should fight, scream, push him away, she ran forward into the wave that threatened to drown her and wash her away without leaving behind a single trace. Breathing was difficult and she labored to get even a shred of air into her lungs. Every last bit seemed to have been sucked away as she became engulfed in this, whatever it was. It surely couldn't be termed something so simple as a kiss. A kiss was the meeting of two lips, skin touching skin, nothing more. And this, this was everything more.

  It felt too wonderful to be honorable.

  Rachel found herself completely dazed and disoriented. Something hot and strange and altogether frighteningly delicious had shivered through every fiber of her body. It buzzed like a fat bee, sated on honey yet searching for more.

  She was aware of everything, the beat of her heart, the startling humming in her ears, the demanding pressure of his mouth, taking things from her she had no reason to believe ever existed.

  She was aware of nothing but him.

  Over and over, his lips met hers, each kiss deeper than the one before. It had to stop. He knew that if he let it continue, there was but one end to it and it was a destination she would not forgive him for, once her senses returned.

  With effort, he drew his mouth from hers.

  "Otherwise," he said, completing the sentence he had began an eternity ago, "someone might do that to you." His hands slid from her shoulders to her waist before he could force himself to release her.

  Her heart pounded so that it threatened to burst through the thin nightshirt. Rachel knew she was entirely too unsteady to walk. He had pinned her arms to her sides before with the weight of his body. Now she curved her fingers behind her as if to gain support from the rough-hewed wall at her back.

  As her nails dug in, she summoned her anger, anger that had been temporarily overpowered by the fire he had created in her blood.

  It took a moment for her to add volume to her words. "I'll have you shot!"

  Something told Sin-Jin that she already had, using ammunition that was far more deadly than any musket ball and powder civilized man had the ability to invent.

  His lips curved in a smile. He glanced at the weapon at her feet, the weapon that hadn't discharged when her finger jerked the trigger.

  "Not with this musket you won't."

  She closed her eyes for a moment, blotting out the effect of his smile. Stronger, she reached for the musket, only to have Sin-Jin grasp it first, holding it out of her reach.

  To her left, she heard her brother snoring in his bed. Damn his eyes, where was he when she needed him? Rachel squared her shoulders indignantly.

  "Give me that!"

  Sin-Jin was nine-tenths certain that it was empty, but he allowed her to save face and played along. "And find myself full of holes? I think not."

  Standing on her toes, she tried to grasp it from him. He merely lifted it higher. Frustrated, Rachel came down on her heels, utterly incensed. She crossed her arms before her, ready to spit nails. "Thief!"

  He made no attempt to hide his amusement, which only enraged her further.

  "Oh, and that would be a worse title than murderer? Or murderess as it would be in your case?" he corrected, his eyes on her face. He saw no remorse, only indignant anger.

  He was a thief. And worse. Once again she reached for the old musket, a weapon she had only used in hunting small animals with Riley. She had never pointed at a man before this evening.

  Sin-Jin continued to hol
d it aloft, infuriating her. "Not murderess. I would only be protecting my home, my honor—"

  Sin-Jin curbed the urge to kiss her again. He knew it would serve only to aggravate her further. And rather than alleviate the ache he felt building, it would only add to it.

  "You've weapon enough for that in that tongue of yours, Mistress." He had the good sense not to laugh when her eyes flashed daggers at him.

  Backing away, taking care to keep a safe distance between them, Sin-Jin worked his way toward the door.

  That he was leaving was a source of relief to Rachel. For a moment, she had been afraid that he would force himself on her. And worse, that she might—heaven forbid—want him to. But he had what was hers and she meant to have it returned.

  "My musket," she demanded, her hand out expectantly.

  She was either very brave, or very foolish. In any case, he was taking no chances. The weapon remained where it was.

  "It'll be waiting for you in your garden." Reaching behind him, he felt the latch on the door. His fingers curled around it and he smiled. "I'll leave it there after I've mounted. My horse," he couldn't resist adding.

  Rachel's eyes narrowed until they were only glowing green slits beneath sooty lashes. Men, they were all the same. Their minds in the gutter, along with the rest of them.

  She fisted her hands at her waist. "You'll pay for this insult. Mark my words, you'll pay for this."

  He took a breath to steady himself. His heart was still beating faster than it had a right to be. All because of an innocent kiss. Well, perhaps not so innocent. With his back to the door, Sin-Jin pulled it opened.

  "I've no doubt of that. No doubt at all." He inclined his head slightly. He was already looking forward to the next encounter. "Good evening."

  Meaning to seize her musket, Rachel took a determined step toward him, but he shook his head, warning her off. If she came at him again, if she touched him, he wasn't entirely certain that he would be able to successfully resist temptation twice.

  His eyes pinned her in place. "I'd stay right there if I were you, unless you want far more than you've bargained on."

  He was bluffing like a gambler with a handful of worthless cards. She was certain of it. Or almost certain. Her feet remained frozen where she stood. She eyed the musket and frustration shimmered through her like spring water dancing along a salmon's scales in the morning. As her indignation fed on itself, Rachel wanted nothing more than to make him pay for taking advantage of her.

  But though outrage and the need for vengeance beat wildly through her young body, like an eagle's wings flapping against the northwest wind, the strong strain of sensibility which had guided her life held her fastened in place. It was as if the hem of her nightshirt was nailed to the wooden floor that Riley had constructed for her sole pleasure.

  She permitted herself one volley, couldn't have lived with herself if she hadn't uttered it. "You are no gentleman."

  She hadn't the slightest inkling of what had just happened here, had she, he thought. Or of what hadn't almost happened here for that matter.

  His eyes held hers, saying words he couldn't. "On the contrary, Mistress, you'll find that I'm more of a gentleman that you had a right to expect."

  The unspeakable cur. Now he was giving himself airs and thinking himself to be better than the colonists. She lifted her chin defiantly. "Because you're part of Her Majesty's Finest, I suppose?"

  He bore the insult well. She was entitled to the barb. But only one. "Because, despite that rapier tongue of yours, you're beautiful and sweet enough, as long as your lips are silent, to fulfill any mans' dreams."

  Leaving her momentarily speechless, he took the opportunity to withdraw and firmly shut the door behind himself.

  Sin-Jin let out a breath, then hurried to his horse, untying the reins. He knew she'd waste no time in getting to the door. Though the thought of another tussel with her, one that would be more physical in nature than the last, warmed him, he knew it wouldn't be wise.

  He had been honest with her. A man only had so much restraint within him before something higher, or lower, took control and blotted out nobler instincts. It had been a very long time since he had actually felt genuine desire stir him the way it had when he had felt her young, soft body pressed against his.

  Swinging himself into the saddle, Sin-Jin bent and gingerly lowered the musket just inside the white picket fence, leaning the old weapon against a slat. As he turned his horse toward the outskirts of the town, he heard the front door being opened. With very little effort, he could imagine he heard the sound of her small, bare feet as they rhymthically met the hard earth. She was running toward the musket.

  He knew better than to stay where he was. He'd never been much of a gambler and he didn't mean to gamble now upon the state of her heart or the accuracy of her aim. He thought the musket unloaded, but he was not about to wager his life on that supposition either.

  Sin-Jin applied his well-shod heels against the horse's flanks and urged the black stallion into the shadows as quickly as it could move. In the distance, he heard the crack of the musket.

  He held his breath, but didn't feel the painful thud of a ball finding its mark.

  He turned and saw her in the moonlight with what looked to be a powder horn swinging from her shoulder. Apparently she had quickly loaded the weapon.

  Damn, but she was one piece of goods, he thought.

  The night air carried his laughter back to her, and Rachel swore roundly. Then, with as much dignity as she could summon, she turned and walked back into the house, bemoaning the fact that the night had hidden her target from her.

  Chapter Four

  The wee hours of the night were beginning to take their toll as patrons either staggered or were carried, in the company of friends, or singularly, into the darkness beyond Sam's Tavern. A handful of hangers-on with nowhere to go-- or someplace they had rather not go to-- were still sitting at the scattered, uneven tables.

  With a heavy sigh, Sam wished they'd go home. He needed sleep. But money was money and in these hard times, a man did not turn his back on a ha'penny, much less two.

  When the scarred door was pushed opened in admittance rather than in exit, Sam raised a black, heavy eyebrow. He watched Sin-Jin cross the floor in silence until the latter was at the bar once again, leaning both elbows on the counter.

  Sam slung his dirty towel on his shoulder and inclined his head toward Sin-Jin. "Change your mind about spending the night alone, my friend?"

  The girls were all upstairs, occupied for the night. But the right amount could free them quickly enough to see to Sin-Jin's pleasure. Sam knew of one or two who would have gladly attended to it for nothing.

  Sam's question conjured up an image of Rachel, and blood shot through Sin-Jin like the volley fired by a line of the finest trained British soldiers, their aim true. His expression kept his thoughts a secret.

  Instead, he smiled easily. "Your whiskey's finally done the trick. If I ride home tonight, they'll find me in a briar patch somewhere, sleeping off the effects. I'd rather sleep it off in a room."

  He looked up toward the open stairway. A row of rooms were on the second floor, crammed next to one another like uneven buttonholes punched by a novice tailor journeyman. "Do you have any free?"

  Sam smiled knowingly. Sin-Jin's wife had been gone lo, these two years, if not more. A man had needs. Needs that could be simply attended to. "Will that be with or without company?"

  Even if he were not tired to the bone, Sin-Jin wanted nothing to mar the effects of what had just transpired less than a mile away. Rachel's mouth still burned hot on his. He loosened his waistcoat. "Without."

  These young men were a strange lot, Sam mused. He shrugged his wide shoulders, straining the seams of his shirt. "Cost you more."

  Sin-Jin leaned forward, beckoning Sam to him. When Sam complied, he asked, "And why is that?"

  Sam made a profit on everything that went on under his roof, whether it was the sale of ale, gambling, f
ood for the body or food for the soul, as it were, which was what he liked to think of what his girls offered his customers.

  "You're a businessman. You understand." He saw that Sin-Jin was still waiting for an explanation. "It's because you won't be paying for services rendered and someone else using the room might avail himself of one of the girls, thereby mounting my profit." He chuckled at the word and his unconscious wit. "I've bills to pay and mouths to feed, you know."

  Sam's only daughter had run off with a young rebel soldier a year ago. He had no family left to speak of. Sin-Jin laughed and shook his head. "And your own belly to fill."

  Taking no offense, Sam patted the object under discussion fondly. He'd been this size, boy and man, now for fifty-five years. There was no sense in changing things. "Someone has to do it."

  Sin-Jin dug into his purse and slapped a coin on the counter. If he didn't get to a bed soon, he'd fall asleep here on the floor. "I'll take your smallest room."

  Sam snatched up the coin. Though he trusted Sin-Jin, he automatically tested the weight of it in his hand. Satisfied, he said, "You'll take my only room. The girls are busy tonight." He saw Sin-Jin's brow quirk. "At least for the moment," he added hastily. "Must be the full moon. It brings out the baser qualities in a man."

  Sin-Jin thought of the way Rachel had looked, standing barefoot with a musket in her hand, the moon turning her skin golden. "And in a woman."

  Sam laughed and picked up the towel once more. He began wiping a tankard free of the last of its liquid contents. "I take it you've met Riley's sister. Rachel, I think her name is."

  The old devil. Sam knew about her. It would have been nice to have been forewarned about her before he had set foot in her house. "How did you guess?"

  Sam elaborately sniffed the air around Sin-Jin.

  "There's the smell of powder burns about you." He laughed heartily, enjoying his own joke. Then he sobered a little, as he continued. "She's a banshee, that one is. Women are still scarce in this country, but there'll be no sniffing around her skirts, I'll wager."