by Brenda Joyce
She touched his face, exhilarated—he had finally declared himself! “I would never think such a thing.”
He did not answer, claiming her mouth, his kiss so hard and deep, it was almost hurtful. Evelyn barely knew what happened next. She threw her arms around him, realizing that he was terribly wounded by his adventures in France, as never before, while he kicked off his breeches and lifted her skirts. “I love you,” he said again, his tone thick and desperate.
Evelyn held him hard, as he kissed her and touched her, fanning not just her desire, but also her love. A moment later, they were joined.
And she looked up at him as they made love and realized he was crying. “Don’t,” she gasped.
He smiled through his tears. “Don’t what? Don’t do…this?”
She gasped, and suddenly she was shattering, and she could not stand it—the love, the desire and the ecstasy were simply too powerful—and she wept, as well. He cried out, holding her tightly, his cheeks damp with tears.
And as Evelyn floated back to reality, she began to caress him. She kissed his temple. “What happened in France, Jack?”
He studied her. “You do not want to know.”
She hugged him. “I am sorry.” She could not imagine the horrors he had been through, but she would help him heal from the wounds of war now. “Maybe, one day, you will tell me what happened. But if you do not, I will respect that choice. No matter what, I will always be here for you.”
He sat up, looked around and found his breeches at the bottom of the bed. As he put them on, Evelyn rearranged her skirts and underclothes. She finished and found Jack standing by the bed, staring intently at her. “Always?” he said.
Her heart hammered. “Yes, always.” What was he thinking?
“Let’s go back downstairs. I have something for you.”
Evelyn was puzzled, but she gave him her hand and got up. While she fixed her hair, he finished dressing. He then took her hand again, smiling, and did not let her go as they went back downstairs. Jack went to his valise and opened it, removing a small, gleaming wood box.
It was the kind of box a lady used to store jewelry. She looked at Jack, and he handed her the small box. “This is for you, Evelyn.”
Her heart thundered. She could not imagine what was inside, as it was not a velvet gift box. She opened it and gasped as her ruby-and-diamond necklace winked up at her. “What is this?”
“I hope you are pleased,” he murmured.
Evelyn bit back another gasp. Jack had never sold the ruby necklace she had given him for her passage from France!
“I could not part with the jewels.”
She began shaking her head wildly. “Oh, how you pretended to be so indifferent to me! Oh, how you claimed to be a cold mercenary!”
He took her hand again. “I am somewhat mercenary. But I was never indifferent to you.”
Her heart turned over, hard. “Jack, are you saying that you were taken with me from the moment we first met?”
“Yes, that is what I am saying.”
She inhaled. “You hid it so well!”
“I fought my every feeling for you. I was a fool, Evelyn.” He tugged her into his arms. “I buried it at Greystone Manor, otherwise, I would have returned it to you sooner.”
She felt like blurting out that she loved him—insanely. “Jack, we are even. I was smitten, too, from that very first night.”
He slowly smiled, pleased. “Were you?”
“I think I fell in love with you then.”
His smile grew. “You are giving me hope!”
What did that mean? she wondered. “I have begged God a thousand times to keep you safe and out of all harm, Jack. That is all I care about. I am so glad you are home. And you are free!”
He cupped her shoulders, his expression so solemn and serious. “I have had a great deal of time to think. I have few regrets in my life, but I do regret resisting my feelings for you—and I regret making you my mistress.”
Evelyn started. “Surely you do not regret the time we have spent together?’
“Selfishly, I do not. But then, you do know I am a selfish man?” His gaze pierced hers.
“You are the most selfless man I know!”
“I am a smuggler, Evelyn, a rogue. I am a man who is accustomed to getting what he wants.”
“You are a hero! And you are being knighted—which proves it!” she cried. “Sir Jack Greystone,” she added.
“Evelyn, I want you.”
She froze. Excitement began. “I do not comprehend you, Jack. You have me already.”
“You deserve so much more than life as a smuggler’s mistress.”
Was he going to propose? No, it was impossible; Jack was an adventurer, not a marrying man!
He gave her an odd look, and then paced around her slowly. She had to turn to watch him. “You are young and beautiful, and you can have more children—and I imagine you want more children. You deserve to be someone’s wife.” He paused, facing her. “You could have a queue of suitors lined up, Evelyn, beginning with Trevelyan and D’Archand.”
She was confused, but not alarmed. And what should she say? She wanted to be his wife! And they would soon have a child together! “Of course I would like more children. But I do not want a queue of suitors. I do not want Trev or the count!”
He hesitated. Suddenly he appeared uncertain. “Evelyn. I am trying to ask you if you will condescend to be my wife.” But his gaze was stunning in its intensity.
She cried out as her heart slammed. “Did I hear you correctly? Did you just propose?”
He reached into the pocket of his bronze jacket and pulled out a large yellow diamond stone. “I obtained this in France. It isn’t set yet, obviously. But it suits you perfectly. It is yours, whether you accept my proposal or not.”
She barely looked at the stone, reeling. Jack was not a marrying man! He did not even know about her pregnancy! Yet he was proposing! “You love danger,” she managed. “You are an adventurer!”
“I enjoy danger, but it is you that I love.” He smiled briefly. “Before you answer, I must tell you I have given up these war games, Evelyn. I am done spying.” His gaze searched hers. “But I cannot give up my life at sea. The sea will always be my mistress—she will always be my second love. I intend to return to Greystone Manor and restore it to its former glory. I will continue to engage in the free trade, as my grandfather and great-grandfather have done. If you refuse me, I will not be hurt. Obviously you belong with a gentleman—not a smuggler.”
Evelyn realized she was crying. She could not speak.
“And if you refuse me,” he said hoarsely, “I want you to know, you are not alone. I will always be there for you. I will always be your champion and protector, even if you choose to marry someone else.”
She reached for his hands and took them. She looked at him, crying. “I have told you a great many times how much I love you! So, yes, I will become your wife!”
He stared, eyes wide. “Are you certain?”
“I have never been as certain of anything,” she began. She knew she must tell him about the child now.
He swept her into his arms and off the floor, and whirled her, laughing. It was a free, light, joyous sound.
“Jack!” she cried. “I have news. I pray you are going to be pleased. Jack, I am close to five months along—I am carrying our child.”
His eyes widened again, bigger than before.
She felt his confusion then. “We were reckless,” she said. “Is it really such a surprise?”
He began to smile. “You are having my child?” And he laughed, loud. “Now you have no choice, Evelyn, but to marry me—as soon as is possible. We must elope!” He laughed again.
Evelyn realized he was absurdly pleased. “Are you happy because you think I am obligated to marry you? Or because we are about to bring a beautiful child into this world?”
“Both,” he said adamantly. “Both.” He swept her close. “Have I told you just how much I love
you?”
“Maybe,” she whispered, in his arms, smiling. “But I do not mind if you tell me again.”
“Then I am going to do just that,” he said. “But first, I think we should assemble the family—and call the closest parson. Evelyn, if you do not mind, I will make an honest woman of you tonight.”
“How could I mind? I cannot wait to be your wife,” she whispered, her heart ballooning with love. “I almost feel as if we are in a magical dream.”
He smiled tenderly then. “As do I. But we are not dreaming. We have survived the war, and we are together. You are having my child—and I am never leaving you again.”
Evelyn went into his embrace and he held her tight. And it was so right. But then, hadn’t she known that Jack Greystone was her destiny from the moment they had first met, when he had stood so proudly upon the deck of his black ship, when he had taken her rubies to transport her from France? And she didn’t care that the sea was his mistress. Because she knew she was his first love—his love for all time.
* * * * *
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ISBN: 9781459249004
Copyright © 2012 by Brenda Joyce Dreams Unlimited, Inc.
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