Sweet Savage Eden

by Heather Graham

  She stiffened as if he had slapped her. “If you are disappointed in me, then it is your own fault, milord. I did not wish to wed you, and I made it amply clear that I had no desire to come here.”

  “Then why did you come?”

  Suddenly he was closer. His hands were on her shoulders, and his fingers bit into her arms ruthlessly. She cried out softly and tried to free herself, and he shook her so that her head fell back and her eyes met his.

  “Why?”

  “Because you commanded that I must!”

  “You are a talented woman, in many ways. You could have eluded my men, if not me, and I was traveling an ocean.”

  “You said that you would come for me and that I—”

  “Ah, but it would have taken me months to realize that you did not come, and months to retrieve you. And perhaps by that time I would have decided that you were not worth the bother. So why did you come?”

  His eyes were fire and his touch was steel, and she was desperate to escape him. She twisted to bite his hand, and he hissed out in surprise. then suddenly he lifted her and sent her flying onto the mattress of the beautiful new bed. He joined her there, catching her shoulders again.

  “Let me go! I shall scream!”

  “Enjoy yourself.”

  “We’ve guests in the house.”

  “Then let them wonder if you are screaming from pleasure or pain; this is my room in my house, and you are my wife.” For a moment she thought that he meant to lean over her, to kiss her with the same savage passion that glittered in his eyes. She felt the heat of his body, cast beside hers, and breathed in the subtle, seductive male scent of him. She was dizzy again, filled with a aching rush that left her trembling. It was wrong, and it had to be shameful, for they were such bitter enemies, but she wanted him desperately. She wanted even the anger, so long as it came with the explosion of passion. She wanted his hands against her bare flesh, his lips burning into her, and the flame of his body warming hers.

  His fingers bit tightly into her shoulders again. “Why are you here?” he demanded.

  “Let me go!” she shrieked, for she had to fight him, and fight this place, this wilderness. He held her so tightly, his breath came in raw and ragged anger, and everything about his hard body seemed vital and alive, streaked with lightning. The very room seemed alive with it, with combustible sparks, with tension that ripped the air between them. He would touch her, he would take her, and she could fight no more, for she could not …

  “Answer me!” He shook her again.

  “No! No! I have answered you! I mean that I want you to let me go!” Her eyes, wide and sapphire blue and sparkling with the hint of tears behind them, met the savage indigo of his. “Let me go home.”

  “Your true home is in the gutter, milady.”

  “An English gutter, milord, and I believe that I should prefer it!”

  “Bitch!” he swore suddenly. And then, to her astonishment, he was gone.

  He left her, and she was cold and alone in the beautiful new bed that might have been made for a king, encompassed in her royal-blue cloak. Bereft, she moved her fingers over the bed and cried softly. She hadn’t even told him about the baby. She hadn’t told anyone, because she did not want the baby to exist. She did not want her baby to be born in the primitive wilds.

  She did not want to be so alone. So terribly alone. She had her sisters … she had Molly and Kathryn and Tamsyn. But she did not have Jamie, and she was alone, hurt, and frightened. If even the passion had left them, then there was nothing remaining at all, except for a bleak life of bitter hatred.

  She curled her fingers into a fist, for she still longed to touch him. She wanted to run her fingers over the strong lines of his face and down to the slope of his shoulder. She wanted to see him prowling naked and supremely confident and graceful again, and she wanted his arms around her, safe and secure. She wondered if he would come back. He did not. She closed her eyes in misery, and she still felt as if she experienced the rocking of the ship. She closed her eyes and slept.

  In the end he did return. She felt him shaking her shoulders and calling to her, as if from some great distance. She was so exhausted, and so very weary. She tried to awaken and she tried to smile, to show him that she was glad to see him.

  But he tossed her over curtly and spoke with blunt, commanding words. “Get up. Dinner is being served, and you have many guests. Wear something very grand—we would show our friends and family and the people that we can have elegance here in the wilderness.” He pulled open her various trunks and began pulling clothing out and tossing it upon the bed “Get up!”

  She didn’t move; she was exhausted. He grasped both her hands and dragged her to her feet and tugged upon the tie to her blue cloak. It fell to the floor, and she instinctively touched her stomach. No one could tell, as yet. She could feel the hard swelling in her stomach and the fullness of her breasts, but no one else had fathomed her secret, except for Molly, perhaps, and Molly wasn’t telling. But Jassy didn’t want Jamie touching her this way. If he had come to her gently, or even with passion, she could have coped. But she would not have him discover it so.

  “Leave me alone!” She turned away.

  “I said—”

  “Oh, yes, milord! And I will obey! Yes, milord, no, milord, whatever your whim, milord. You did take me from a gutter to a primitive forest, and I must be forever grateful and at your command!”

  She didn’t like the set of his jaw when he took a firm step toward her, and she moved away again. “I will dress in whatever you have chosen!”

  “I will send Molly—”

  “No. You said that they have no duties today. I will manage if you will just please let me!”

  She watched the pulse tick at his throat, and she wanted to burst into tears. Apparently he had changed while she slept, and she had never seen him appear more masculine and exciting. His shirt was white against the bronze of his throat, his breeches were royal-blue satin, and his doublet was black. His hose hugged the muscles of his calves, and he wore buckled black shoes. His hair was long, curling far over his collar, and though he was clean-shaven, he had some of the rugged look of the place about him, and it was very appealing.

  “Five minutes, milady.”

  He turned and left her.

  She didn’t manage to make it downstairs in five minutes, but in ten. Elizabeth had come before her and was sitting with Jamie before the hearth, listening with enchantment to some tale he was telling her. Elizabeth looked up when she arrived. Jamie stood and greeted her with a proper murmur.

  “Jamie has been telling me about a delightful stream, not far from here.” She flushed, bringing her hand to her mouth. “The Indian maidens swim naked, and so do many of the white women now, because the water is so wonderfully clear and cool.”

  “The Indian maidens seek to catch husbands,” Jamie said.

  Elizabeth laughed. “Do they? So things are not so different among peoples, after all.”

  “No, they are not,” Jamie said, watching Elizabeth with tender admiration.

  Robert and Lenore arrived then, breathlessly. Jamie said that he would call Mrs. Lawton to prepare their drinks, and then they might sit to dinner. Amy brought French wine that had arrived with them upon the Sweet Eden, and when they were all served a glass, they gathered around the table. Lenore giggled and apologized for being late, and she looked at Robert and said sweetly, “Oh, but it was nice to …” She paused, realizing what she had said, and blushed prettily. “It was nice to be upon solid ground again.”

  Everyone burst into laughter except for Jassy. Lenore stared at her with innocent eyes. “Wasn’t it nice, Jassy?”

  She gazed down at her plate, because the innuendo was there, and of course everyone was assuming that she and Jamie couldn’t wait to make love once they were alone. She could not bear to say that her husband had not wanted her, nor could she look across the table to where he sat. She felt his eyes upon her.

  “The ship was tiresome
,” she said.

  “Milady?”

  Jonathan—dressed now in Cameron livery—stood beside her, offering her a huge silver trencher. He lifted the cover, and the sweet aroma of the food made her mouth water. “Venison, milady.” She nodded. “Jonathan, it looks wonderful. Thank you so much. If you will serve Lady Maxwell first, please.”

  Jonathan served the meat, Amy Lawton served buttered squash and beans, and the girls came after them with breads and puddings and slabs of wild turkey. The meal was delicious, and there was plenty, and it was difficult to believe that there had been a starving time here. Sir William Tybalt arrived when they were halfway finished; and apologized for being late, explaining to Jamie that one of the little children had wandered into the woods.

  Jamie frowned. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “It is your first day back—with your wife.”

  “I know the woods well,” Jamie said. “In the future you must summon me immediately.”

  “She is back, alive and well,” William said.

  Robert looked at Jamie. “Your responsibility here seems heavy, Jamie. You are the lord of the manor, do you not rest?”

  Jamie shook his head. “No, Robert. Here we all toil with the earth, you will see. No man rests easily. There is always forest to clear, homes to be made, land to be plowed. Our ships come sporadically, and we must become as independent as possible if we are to survive. I can buy many things, but if the ship they are due upon is caught by a storm and swept astray, then my money is as worthless as the goods I have imported. We are not so savage as you might imagine, and still we pull together. Candles must be made, and soap, and the animals must be attended. I hunt food with the men when I am here, and I saw logs, and I think, Robert, that you might come to enjoy it.”

  “Well, we shall see,” Robert agreed pleasantly. He smiled at Jassy. “You should fare well enough, milady. You were a regular angel aboard the ship.”

  “Down below, administering to the common folk,”

  Lenore said. “ ’Tis a wonder she caught no diseases or creatures from them!”

  “Lenore, really—”

  “Jassy, you must be more careful. You could infect us all.”

  “The woman who died bled to death from childbirth, Lenore,” Jassy said softly. She looked up. Jamie’s eyes were on her again. He was silent, and yet she felt that he did not stare at her so condemningly as he had before.

  Jonathan cleared his throat at the head of the table, and Jamie turned to him. The man whispered discreetly to Jamie, and Jamie rose. “Bring her in.”

  “Excuse me,” he said to his company. “I will return as quickly as possible.”

  Elizabeth asked Sir William about his customary day; and Sir William politely answered her, promising that he would teach them all the proper use of the matchlock musket. Jassy listened vaguely, but her curiosity got the better of her, and she excused herself, too, hurrying down the length of the hallway to the front where Jamie spoke with a soldier in half-armor and a woman.

  The woman was unlike anyone Jassy had ever seen before. Her hair was incredibly long and sleek and black, her skin the color of honey, and her eyes bright green. She wore a simple homespun dress with no petticoats or corset, and the pendulous size of her breasts seemed indecently evident.

  “You must see that the chief is thanked, and is assured that my bride will value the gift greatly—” Jamie was saying. He broke off, realizing that Jassy stood behind him. He brought her forward. “Jasmine, Lyle Talbot of our patrol, and Hope. Lyle, Hope, this is my wife, the Lady Jasmine.”

  Lyle knelt before her and handsomely offered her his service.

  Hope did not stir at all. She studied Jassy with her eyes, then bobbed a bit. “Lady,” she said. She looked over Jassy’s head to Jamie with a glitter in her eyes. “I will convey your message.”

  “Thank you.”

  Hope smiled. “I shave you well, yes?”

  “What?” Instinctively Jamie lifted his hand to his cheek. He had forgotten Hope’s administrations with her honed oyster shell. “Yes, you did well. Thank you.”

  Before him, Jassy stiffened. Lyle Talbot hurried Hope out the door, and Jamie closed it tightly. Jassy stared at him until he turned about, and it was her opportunity to stare at him with condemning eyes.

  “Jassy—”

  “The meal grows cold,” she said, and swung about with great dignity.

  She prayed that he didn’t see that she was trembling and seething as she walked. It had not occurred to her that he might do to other women what—what he had done to her. She was dismayed at the rage that swept through her, and the pain. He could not! He could not desire that curious heathen over her! He would never, never touch her again; she would not allow it.

  Her teeth were grating when she returned to the table. Then she did not know what struck her, but it was wanton and wicked, and she set out with sudden cheer to charm both the other men at the table. She grew animated and bright, and she asked endless questions of Sir William, and when the voyage across the sea was mentioned again, she took Robert’s hand. “Robert has ever been the most gentle man and the best of friends. Why, I should not have borne the voyage at all, were not for his every assistance. The loneliness would have been unbearable—except that he was there.”

  Lenore, who had known that her husband had been at her own side during the voyage, thought nothing of her sister’s sweet words of praise.

  On the other hand, Jamie, who knew full well that his friend had once deeply desired his wife, knew nothing of the kind. Jassy saw the wrath that tightened the muscles in his throat, sending a blue fire to his eyes. She delighted in it. How dare he touch the heathen girl and bring her into their house!

  They moved downward to the hearth when the meal was finished for whiskey and pipes and mulled wine, but Elizabeth wearily declined any substance at all, and Lenore quickly yawned and excused herself too. Sir William was explaining the musket to Jassy, and she listened avidly to his every word, widened her eyes, and said that he must teach her. He stumbled over his promise to do so.

  “Jassy, hadn’t you best go up too?” Jamie said, irritated.

  “Oh, no! I am not tired at all. I am desperately eager to meet the challenge of this new world!” she claimed innocently.

  His gaze then frightened her, and she dared only flirt with Sir William a moment longer. Then she fled up the stairs.

  She would undress like mercury, she determined, don her nightgown, and plummet into the bed. And if he thought to waylay her this evening, she would send him to his Indian harlot. He would not dare touch her, she swore it.

  The plan went awry from the beginning, for he entered the room, closing and bolting the door, while she was struggling to bring her dress over her forehead. She felt his presence as he remained by the door, watching her, then he stepped forward and pulled the gown from over her head.

  Pins loosened from her hair and fell to the floor, and she met his eyes. He tossed her dress to the side and stared at her as she stood there, her shoulders bare, the soft, white mounds of her breasts rising high over her corset, her eyes liquid blue pools, and her petticoats streaming from her waist. Soft tendrils of golden hair curled over her shoulders and around the fullness of her laced breasts, and blue veins pulsed against the slender column of her throat. He had never seen her more desirable. Longing seared through him with the vigor of a shot. He shuddered with the stark heat of it. “Come here,” he told her, his voice caught in a rasp.

  “You have lost your mind!” she said gratingly. “You will never touch me again, you savage.”

  “The hell I will not—milady!” he told her, and he wrenched her into his arms.

  Her fists pelted against his chest, but he held her tight and lowered his mouth upon hers, forcing it open, taking her lips with a bruising passion. His fingers threaded into her hair, and he dragged back her head as his lips traveled downward to the pulse at her throat, and onward to her shoulders.

  “Don’t you dare
!” she gasped, shoving hard against him.

  He ceased his motion and held her still, his eyes blazing into hers with fury. “What, milady? You played the whore tonight for Sir William, and now, in this room, you would be the nun?”

  “I was polite and nothing more to Sir Tybalt.”

  “The grande dame! Your performances are so fine, milady. Tell me, what of Robert Maxwell?”

  “For him, milord, I play the dedicated friend! What he has given me, I seek to give to him.”

  “In this room, milady,” Jamie insisted, sweeping her from the floor, “you will play my wife!”

  She fought him with a fury she had not known she possessed that evening, for imbedded in that fury was anguish. She could not bear that he had turned to another. Especially when he had forced her here and she was terrified that she would die with the birth of his child.

  She was flung upon the bed, and he was quickly atop her. She lashed out for his face, but he secured her wrists. She kicked at him savagely, and he cast his weight over her.

  “I will scream.”

  “Scream loudly, then. I’ll not have you taking half measures.”

  “Go to your Indian whore!”

  “What?”

  “Take your stupid, panting lust to your Indian whore!”

  “Are you jealous, love?” He paused, arching a dark brow, comfortably situated as he held both her wrists in his one hand and held her down with one leg cast over her thighs.

  “Never, milord. I am humiliated.”

  He moved his free hand over her cheek. She wrenched away from his touch. His fingers wandered down her throat and fell upon the laces to her stays. He deftly untied them. His gaze and his fingers roamed freely, lightly, over her shoulders and her breasts, teasing her. His thumb and forefinger paused over an achingly sensitive nipple, rubbing it to a long, darkened peak. Jassy tossed her head, twisted, and looked away, and she wondered if he had held the Indian girl so, and if he took more pleasure from the honey-colored flesh than from her own.