Her cheeks burned as she acknowledged the truth, impossible as it was to deny. She’d broken the rules of propriety by coming alone to this secluded place without a chaperon. Why else would she have done so, but in hopes that he would... if only once more? She cast him another surreptitious glance, and her heart fluttered wildly.
God have mercy, she yearned for it, even, as one would hunger for food or thirst for drink, or even want for sleep. She was consumed by the desire for it. His kiss had somehow awakened some unfamiliar yearning within her, and even when she’d fallen asleep last eve, tossing and turning, it had not fled her. Lord help her, she’d dreamed of him even then.
Seeing the adoring look in her eyes, Christian felt his stomach knot. She seemed to see in him only what she wished to and nothing more.
What might she think if she knew him for what he truly was? If she knew what base thoughts burned through his mind, what sordid desires slithered through his veins?
Christ, the things he wanted to do to her even now as she gazed up at him so worshipfully. He could think of little more than taking her within his arms and initiating her beautiful body into glorious womanhood.
Only, for the first time in his life... there was something more than mere lust that compelled him. And still....
His jaw turned taut, for it was merely a matter of time before she discovered his true nature.
She might as well know it of him now.
This moment.
Before he might be tempted to lay his heart at her mercy. And God save him if that ever came to be, for if he allowed it... she had it within her power to crush him beneath those precious feet of hers.
Suddenly he felt the need to shock her. “What might you think, Jess, if I told you I was bastard born? Would you still look at me with such reverence?” The words had come bluntly, his tone hinting at all that was loathsome about his life.
A vision came upon him of himself as a superstitious peasant warding away evil with a makeshift cross. If it weren’t such a pathetic image, he might have been amused.
Was he so desperate to save himself from the devotion so evident in her beautiful eyes?
Christ... but those eyes had the power to reach so deep into his soul... the power to touch his very heart. Somehow she made him want to be all that she believed of him.
All that he was not.
And more.
He couldn’t hurt her, he realized.
He wouldn’t hurt her.
She looked stricken by the unexpected revelation. “Is it true?” she asked, sounding horrified.
He laughed derisively, casting her a dispassionate glance. “Aye.”
“How—” She shook her head, refusing to believe it. “However did you discover such a thing?”
“It doesn’t matter?”
“Of course it matters!” Her brows drew together. “Your brother might have been lying, don’t you see!”
Christian shook his head soberly, wondering belatedly over the wisdom in telling her such a thing. To reveal this, his darkest secret, was to open a vein for her to draw on. That someone other than himself and his mother—he refused to acknowledge the rest of his family—should possess the knowledge of his bastardy would make him vulnerable as he’d never been before.
“Nay, Jess.”
She seemed dumbstruck, and then sputtered, “Y-Your father?”
He wasn’t certain what it was she was asking. “Maxwell Haukinge?”
“Nay,” she said softly, and looked disconcerted. “Did he know?”
He nodded, understanding. “Ah, well, yes... I believe he did.” Something in her expression compelled him to go on. “And my real father… I believe he would as soon hang himself from the tallest masthead rather than defame my mother’s good name. My captain, you see, is the man who sired me, and loved my mother.”
For a long moment, there was silence between them. When she spoke again there was only concern in her tone, and he was warmed by it. “When did you discover the truth?”
He inhaled sharply. “As a lad. Though I didn’t learn who until about a year ago.” Gazing at her sweet face, he wondered why he felt compelled to drive her away when he craved more than anything the sweet fulfillment he suspected she could give him.
Try as he might, he couldn’t find the answer.
“Please,” she entreated softly. “Tell me of it.”
He cocked his brows uncertainly.
Inconceivably, there was no condemnation in her voice, no loathing in her eyes. God, it felt so good to reveal himself to her. A strange calm threatened to steal over him, and for the first time in his life he felt he could trust, truly trust, another human being.
Plucking a grape from the platter before them, he pitched it at her. It fell halfway between them, and he retrieved it, pitching it again. “There’s isn’t much to the tale... nothing sensational to speak of.” He went still, remembering. “I simply looked into his eyes and knew the truth.”
He shook his head and reached out to pluck another grape, placing it within his mouth. Plucking another, he fed it to Jessie. She accepted his offering with a sad smile, urging him, with her silence and her persuasive green gaze, to continue. Her eyes... God... how they seemed to reach into his soul and draw out the words, never mind that they’d never been spoken before now.
Uncomfortable with her scrutiny, he lay back upon the blanket, locking his hands behind his head, and peered into the treetops as he continued, “It was the strangest thing,” he said, “but for the space of an instant, the years were stripped away... and it was as though I were left gazing into a looking glass at my own reflection, blue eyes and all. I just knew.”
Staring past the lush greenery into the clear azure sky, Christian waited for her to speak—to say something, anything—words that would give him some small hint of how she felt about his shocking disclosure. When she said nothing for a long moment, he rolled to face her. Propping his head upon his hand, he stared into her eyes, hoping to see into her heart. What he saw there in the shimmering depth of her eyes gave root to his burgeoning sense of peace. Once again he felt compelled to go on; the need to purge himself of the blackness was strong, and it seemed that she, and she alone, had the ability to absolve him with her soul-cleansing gaze.
“My brother has gray eyes,” he told her softly, “as did our father. My mother has beautiful brown eyes, so deep and dark, they seem almost fathomless. And I, well, I was the only one in the brood with eyes of blue—and God... at that moment, Jessie... looking into Jean Paul’s face... his eyes... so many things became comprehensible at last.”
“What sort of things?” Taking a grape for herself, she offered another to Christian, as he had done for her. He repaid her gesture with a lopsided grin.
“For one...” He took it, but placed it against her own lips, and smiled when she accepted it so easily. This ease between them felt good—better than anything had in all his years. “Jean Paul appointed himself guardian over my mother and me when first we took up residence with my grandparents in France—a fact that always bedeviled me, that this man, so in love with the sea, would bind himself to a woman and child not his own. It made no sense at all.”
“Do you think, perhaps, he did so out of guilt for his part in your mother’s... predicament? She left England, I know. Only it was never known precisely why.”
“She was banished by my father, actually—we both were.” He glanced away, uncomfortable with the emotions that surfaced in that instant. “She was glad enough to go, I think. I always believed she was in love with Jean Paul, though for my sake she masked it well.”
His gaze returned to her, gauging her expression. Nothing. He could discern nothing.
“For her parents, as well, of course; she would have spared them any injury.”
He plucked another grape, squeezing it gently, anticipating her reaction; veiled disgust, revulsion perhaps.
He was unprepared for sympathy. “How very sad. I’m so sorry for you,” she whispered.
The grape burst, spurting juice everywhere. She cried softly, wincing as it sprayed her face. Wiping a droplet from her lip with a fingertip, she held his gaze, smiling wanly. Christian tossed the grape over his shoulder. Sympathy was not precisely the emotion he’d sought from her.
“Don’t be. I was rendered quite speechless by the discovery at the time, but I’ve no contention in my soul over it a’tall. I welcomed the knowledge of Jean Paul as my father wholeheartedly, embraced it even, for it made so many things bearable.”
“Truly?”
Their gazes met and held; stark blue and healing green.
Jessie’s look was so compassionate, her eyes so luminous with concern, that Christian experienced the sudden inexorable urge to kiss her distress away, to assure her that he’d come away from it all unscathed. Years of mistrust compelled him to say instead, “You must swear to me, Jessamine, that you will never repeat a word of what I have revealed to you. I only wanted you to understand that I’m not the exemplary man you think me.” He lifted her delicate chin with a finger. “Every time you look at me, ma belle vie, I see... I see reverence. Trust me when I tell you I’m the last soul upon this earth to deserve it.”
“Nay! Never say so! You are—”
He lifted a finger to her lips. “Hush, my love,” he commanded her.
He brushed a wayward curl from her face. His fingers caressed her sun-flushed cheek, moving to the silky thickness of her hair, gliding through it reverently, catching finally at the blue satin binding that kept her wild curls so neat and tidy. He drew the ribbon free, releasing her glorious hair.
Without warning, he drew her down beside him and rolled atop her, pinning her beneath him in one easy movement. She didn’t protest. Her breath caught and she cried out.
There was no fear in her lovely eyes, none at all, and relief surged through him. God help him, he doubted he could restrain himself much longer. And this moment, he wanted more than merely to soothe his troubled spirit. He needed to appease his body’s beastly hunger. He went about each day in a semi aroused state, and in her presence it became unbearable. What manner of hold did she have upon him that he would subject himself to such monstrous torture? That he would feel driven to protect her from himself? He wanted her so desperately that he actually ached with his need of her, and still he restrained himself.
Jessie knew she should object—indeed, knew she must! But Lord, how she wanted him to kiss her again!
Her soul ached for it.
Her mouth craved the feel of him.
Would he taste again as he had yesterday? A heady mixture of brandy and musky maleness that she’d savored again last eve while she’d dreamt of him. Even her body seemed to cry out for it now.
A knot formed in her breast, constricting painfully.
Nay, she’d not stop him... she very much desired this—needed it. Swallowing her dutiful words of protest, she let him move atop her, and sighed...
What a wanton she was that she would allow him such wicked liberties.
Unbidden, Eliza’s words invaded her thoughts. Do what you will... say what you must. Charm him to your heart’s content. But I warn you... keep your virtue intact.
As his lips touched her own, she began to quake. A single tear escaped, unnoticed, for he was kissing her at long last and did not see. It didn’t matter, she didn’t want him to stop—she thought she’d die if he did. She clung to him as though her life depended upon it. And she thought it might.
Feeling her shudders, he whispered softly against her throat, “Have no fear, mon amour.”
He stopped, peering down at her, and swore, “I shall take nothing you do not freely give.”
But that, dear God, was precisely what she feared. This moment, everything she had was his to take—everything! She wanted to give him all that she had.
“Open your eyes for me, dearling.”
She obeyed him, opening shimmering eyes.
The hunger evident in his gaze made her heart fly into her throat.
“My God, but they are the rarest of jewels,” he whispered softly, passionately. “You are... so lovely... so very lovely, Jessie.”
His hand slid firmly to her waist, then to her hip, exploring...
Remembering the way she’d looked standing in the brook that first day, barefoot and wide-eyed, Christian hardened fully.
A vision of slim calves and shapely thighs besieged him and a shudder coursed through him as he bent to kiss her lips once more, all the while gathering the hem of her gown into his fist, drawing it up to expose her beautiful legs to the warm, sultry sun... to his hungry touch. Once again she’d forsworn her petticoats, and he whispered a prayer of thanks—ignoble as it might be—that she seemed to shun that one vestige of propriety.
She wanted this, too, he told himself—and Christ! he thought he’d die without it.
Her hand flew out to stop his ascent—instinct, he thought, for she didn’t end the kiss. Though he rarely prayed, he did so now, fervently. If she denied him... if she said nay... that damnable part of himself would feel honor-bound to stop—and God’s teeth, he’d not be able to bear it.
Her lips were soft, too soft, pliable, warm creamy silk... He kissed her feverishly, groaning in relief when she forgot about her elevated skirts and her hands moved to explore his back. He smiled with fierce satisfaction as her fingers bore themselves passionately into his flesh. God help him, he battled the urge to strip her quickly and ravish her where she lay. Damnation, but he couldn’t bear this maddening torture much longer.
He was no gentleman, for God’s sake, no saint, merely a man—and not a bloody honorable one at that!
Sliding her skirts higher, he shifted upward, groaning as he pressed his aching anatomy into the sweet, warm hollow between her thighs. She lifted against him, though timidly, as though unsure of herself or her intuitive reaction to his blatant invitation, and he felt himself swell against her.
It was all the encouragement he needed.
She might not have understood the provocative inquiry, but her body certainly did. She wanted this as much as he did... and who was he kidding? He’d love to oblige. His tongue swept into her mouth, moving as he craved to do in other regions. She tasted of grapes... smelled of lilacs, and woman... so fresh a scent, so pure. Her body quivered beneath him, and heat surged through his loins, tightening them. Shoving aside the voice of reason, he set free the fiend within.
She was sweet... so sweet... too sweet...
Somewhere at the back of her thoughts, Jessie heard the voice that cautioned her to stop, but she knew she’d not heed it.
She was lost, her body no longer her own to command. Her breath came in strangled gasps as Christian rocked seductively against her.
Thunder stole into her heart.
Instinctively she gave back motion for motion, feeling the hardness between them grow, and not truly understanding anything more than it gave her body pleasure to seek it.
Heat flowed, like warm honey, into the most secret core of her being. Her senses flowered, making her bold. Each time she pressed back, the return pressure deepened, until she could think of nothing but appeasing her body’s sensational new hunger. Fully clothed, their bodies writhed together upon the blanket, off the blanket, rolled onto the fragrant green grass, undulating in time to some age-old rhythm.
It happened so quickly. Somehow, she came to be on top of him, and he stroked the back of her thighs beneath her gown. Her heart thudded to a halt when his fingers slid to her bare bottom, pressing her more firmly against him. Then, just as quickly as they had lit there, they slid between her slightly parted legs. A jolt of pure, delicious sensation burst through her, snatching her breath away.
As she buried her face into the crook of Christian’s neck, Jessie’s lips moved of their own accord. He groaned, as though in pain, and it startled her so she froze.
“Nay,” he said, breathing heavily now. “Don’t stop now...” He pressed her face against the quickening pulse at his throat,
urging her back into carnal oblivion.
Moaning softly, Jessie parted her lips against his heated skin, tasting him against her tongue.
“God... yes...”
She nibbled him as he had done to her, and it drove Christian insane with lust.
His body quivering with restraint, he seized her hand, folded it tightly within his own. His senses dimmed by the inferno at his groin, he slid her fingers between their bodies where he most craved her magnificent touch, pressing her delicate little palm against his aching flesh.
He needed her now—God, but he had to have her!
He was beyond reason.
Too long he’d denied himself.
She was too sweet... too tempting...
Whimpering, Jessie swallowed the lump that rose in her throat, though she couldn’t have removed her hand had she tried. She knew an overwhelming desire for completion—but a completion of what?
She trusted Christian without fail.
He wanted her in the way that a man wanted a woman, and the knowledge made her lie eagerly before him. He would do nothing to harm her; she knew it deep down in her heart. And he was giving her pleasure as she’d never imagined possible.
His lips seared her flesh, kissing her boldly. When he moved down, nibbling her breast through her bodice, she felt a shock of pure rapture.
Whatever he would do to her, she would gladly allow it...
Anything.
“Let me love you, Jessie…”
The plea echoed through Jessie’s heart. Yes, she adored him. He was her savior, her protector. Anything he wanted of her, she would willingly give—gladly, madly...
She was mindless with need… for all that his touch promised.
His hand found that place between her thighs, and he stroked it lovingly. Jessie’s emotions worked with her body, spiraling her into oblivion. She could think of nothing but the sensations he was rousing within her as his finger slipped daringly within her, then stopped abruptly.
Chapter 9
It was the only thing that could have stopped him.
Christian froze, cursing roundly.
Three Redeemable Rogues Page 32