Kissed; Christian Page 17

  “You plan to share my bed with me?” his husky voice inquired after a moment.

  “O-Of course not!” she cried indignantly, but she was mortified to feel the flutter, the thrill, that raced through her body like wildfire.

  “Then get out of it,” he advised her. “Now.”

  The last was said so softly that she barely heard the command.

  “I swear you are no gentleman!” Yet having said that, she gaped, fascinated by his sleek grace as he proceeded to unbutton his shirt cuffs.

  Though his features were now hidden deep in shadow, she could have sworn he smiled at that insult, his teeth flashing white. Taking a nervous sip of her wine, she swallowed it with a tortured, strangled gasp, and continued to sit, hopelessly entranced, watching shamelessly as he then started upon the buttons at his throat. She was utterly helpless to tear her gaze away from his ritual performance.

  Belatedly recalling her own gaping dress, she clasped it together, holding it fast, cutting off her breath as her flesh burned under his scrutiny. But Lord help her, she really couldn’t care that she couldn’t breathe just now, could only be thankful for the darkness of the cabin to conceal her brazenness.

  And her desire.

  He stood then, his body little more than a dark silhouette before her, and she was spurred into life finally, clinking her goblet down quickly upon the small table by the bedside.

  “I believe I’ve given you fair enough warning,” he said low, unbuttoning his breeches and shrugging out of them. Her heart leapt as they slithered to the floor and he stepped out of them, magnificently naked.

  Like Adam.

  She froze, again staring as though transfixed, her gaze leaving him only to revert to the window, to the silhouette of Adam glowing faintly there by the light of the moon, before returning to Christian, but Christian stood too deeply in shadow and she could see nothing of him.

  Chapter Twenty

  “I’ll not ask you again,” he swore, and then his shadow descended upon her.

  Jessie leapt from the bed, scurrying away. She listened intently to the rustling of the sheets as he snuggled between them, nude, she knew, and the thought made her shiver, though she could see absolutely nothing as his body slipped into the crisp coolness of the sheets. She knew they were cool, even as she knew his body was hot—as was her own. She burned as though with fever.

  Once he was settled, he tossed her a blanket. It fell at her bare feet. She stooped to retrieve it, holding it close to her as she stared into the darkness of the curtained bed.

  “Where will I sleep?” Her voice trembled slightly. Lord, she loathed herself for that weakness.

  He grunted, as though annoyed by her question, and said, “Wherever you wish... in the bed, if you please.” And then he added, “If you dare...”

  It was a challenge, a gauntlet cast at her feet, but one Jessie had no intention of accepting, or even acknowledging. She didn’t dare, for she’d be lost if she did.

  “I-I shall sleep on the floor, then.”

  “As you wish.”

  “Oh! I do so wish!” she assured him, her voice laced with bitterness. What manner of man was he to allow her, a gentle-born woman, to sleep on the floor—on the deck of a ship, no less, to roll with the ocean’s waves! God, how could she have ever thought him a gentleman? And again, she had the despairing thought that she was the worst kind of fool, for she was a fool in love.

  And he was a devil and a knave, the lowest of low!

  Resigning herself to a night of discomfort, she settled upon the floor, drawing the blanket to her chin to keep away the chill of the night. To her chagrin, she found the one blanket was not proof against the cold. And then again, perhaps the chill came from within? And then, too, it was dark... and she could hear him breathing, smoothly, evenly, peacefully.

  And then slower still—the cad! How dare he sleep!

  In that miserable moment, Jessie despised him immensely. Cursing him, she shifted, trying in vain to find comfort on the hard, cold floor.

  He snored.

  “Famous!” she muttered to herself.

  He made some curious sound, and then it seemed his entire body jerked, as though to catapult him into blissful slumber.

  Jessie couldn’t bear it—that he could sleep so peacefully when she was so very miserable.

  “Christian?” she whispered. There was no reply. Louder this time, she hissed, “Hawk?”

  Still no response.

  She waited a moment, and then shouted, “Are you sleeping?”

  He grunted, and responded finally, “Not anymore. What the devil do you want now, Jessie?”

  “I need a pillow,” she said petulantly.

  “I have only one.”

  “Might I use it, then?”

  “God’s teeth, woman! I am using it!”

  Jessie gritted her teeth.

  “But you may share it,” he conceded irritably.

  “Share it? With you? Thank you, but nay. Is there another cabin I might make use of, then?”

  “Nay.”

  “Another bed?”

  “Jess.”

  “Another cot? Another world?” she mumbled beneath her breath.

  Some choked sound escaped him, as though he would laugh but refused to allow himself the concession. When he spoke again, his whisper sounded for all its caressing softness an irate command.

  “Go to sleep, Jessamine. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

  Indeed, Christian amended silently, a long voyage, for it was going to prove wholly impossible to share the same cabin with her while keeping his sanity.

  It was impossible to sleep with her scent filling his nostrils, arousing his senses. Yet there was truly no place else he would have her go.

  Certainly not with that damnable cousin of hers—and there was no place else.

  “I do so loathe you!” she informed him with great feeling.

  “And the sentiment is mutual,” he returned dispassionately. “Now, be a wise little wench and go to sleep. Or I swear, you’ll come to regret it.”

  “You don’t understand,” she cried softly. “I cannot sleep in the same room with you! ’Tis unseemly... and... and—”

  “To bloody hell with what’s proper, Jess! ’Tis a man’s ship,” he apprised her, his voice strained. “There is no other place for you to sleep but here... in my cabin—where you will be safe,” he added almost reluctantly, for he wasn’t truly certain she was safe with him either.

  “Why couldn’t you have thought of that before you abducted me?”

  He sighed. “As I’ve already told you, there was no time to consider. Look at it from my view. I believed two men lay dying, and I knew not where to turn for help... Being that one of them was your beloved cousin... I rather hoped you might feel somewhat inclined to aid them. Perhaps I was wrong?”

  There was a long moment of silence, and then she admitted finally, her voice quivering faintly, “You were not.”

  The pitiful sound of it did not escape him, and Christian’s sigh slashed through the darkness. “If ’tis your virtue you fear for,” he relented, “then you should leave off the worrying, mon amour. I’ve absolutely no wish to touch you at all,” he lied, his lip curling with self-contempt at the blatant falsehood. Even now, he stood ready. Yet, even despite that fact, he played the noble for her, ever the righteous gentleman. He cursed her fiercely beneath his breath, for making him want to be something he was not.

  “Even so,” he interjected, “I swear that if you do not let me be, Jessie, I’ll assume you wish to divert me, and I might find that I do, indeed, desire a certain diversion, after all—if you take my meaning?”

  He heard her sharp intake of breath, and the helpless whimper that escaped her, and he felt her pain, and despised himself for his weakness to her.

  Neither of them spoke.

  After a long moment, Christian grudgingly tossed her his pillow.

  It landed with a soft whooshing sound atop her head. Jessie snatched it quickly, b
urying her face into it, soaking it with tears.

  “Thank you!” she sobbed, swearing to herself that she loathed him still, and despising herself for the lie. After a time, his husky snores filled the cabin, and hours later, still unable to sleep, Jessie lay shifting uncomfortably in the darkness.

  She stood finally, clutching Christian’s pillow to her breast, and approached the dark pit that was his bed. She stared at his moonlit features for a long moment, gathering her courage. God, he wore a scowl even in his sleep. He was a fiend—so why did she love him so? Why?

  She was cold.

  And she was desperately miserable.

  And he had the bed.

  Lord, but he was rude and ill bred not to have offered her the bed!

  Mustering her courage once and for all, she lifted the coverlet carefully and slipped within, making certain to stay as far from him as possible.

  The beast never stirred.

  He was sound asleep, she acknowledged resentfully. And he had fallen so very easily. How, when her own body lay burning so fiercely, kindled merely by his presence? It was as though the very air were filled with him, making her yearn... She shouldn’t feel such a wanton longing for his kisses… and more. Only, when she tried not to recall that day beneath the elm tree... her body seemed to have a will all its own, demolishing her resolve.

  “I never did betray you,” she whispered softly into the pillow beside him. She rocked herself consolingly, gently, so as not to wake him. How could he have believed she would?

  Oh, God, how could he sleep?

  He really didn’t want her.

  He didn’t care. A tear slipped through her lashes.

  The moon’s glow illuminated the stained glass with an uncanny light. Eve’s eyes seemed lucid, melancholy almost, and so very damning, for those eyes were the mirror to her own soul.

  She was lost to him, and he didn’t trust her, and he didn’t love her... and he didn’t even seem to want her.

  The tears she’d been fighting so long spilled from her eyes, coursed shamelessly down her cheeks.

  “I did not betray you,’ she swore again, her whisper soft and full of pain. “It was you, Christian, who betrayed me!” She gazed longingly at the exquisitely depicted figure of Adam, his face unreadable, his eyes as blue and fathomless as the sea.

  “I did not tell my brother—he knew already.” Though she knew he slept, she felt compelled to go on, “It was your brother, Philip, who told my father. Not I,” she swore softly. “Amos told me so later.” She continued to rock herself, eased by it, and she wept softly.

  “But you...”

  The single word was filled with overwhelming grief.

  “You came to seduce me—and you let him—” She choked away a broken sob. “Oh, God! You let my brother pay you to wreck my heart and my life! How could you? Yes, you came to make me love you... and to tear my soul to tiny, wretched shreds—and God curse me, for I let you!”

  She turned away from him to lie upon her side in a devastated heap, unable even to accept his presence next to her upon the bed, for she wanted nothing more than to turn in to his arms and be comforted by him.

  She was weak... oh, so weak.

  “But it is my fault... I let you hurt me,” she whispered brokenly. And then her sobs came full force and she muffled them with the feather pillow that bore his musky male scent, allowing her anger to become a balm for her pain.

  As though he’d heard her somewhere deep in his slumber and meant to comfort her, Christian’s weight shifted. His arm reached out and wrapped about her waist.

  Jessie stiffened, thinking she’d inadvertently awakened him, but he made some sleepy sound before snuggling closer to her. His breath was as smooth and even as before, and she knew then that he slept on, that he’d never awakened at all. In his dreams, he probably thought her some tavern wench warming his bed!

  Still, in the darkness, just this once... Jessie dared to be comforted by his embrace—no matter whether he mistook her for another.

  Just this once, she swore to herself.

  No one need know.

  Tomorrow she would be fine.

  She would make certain of that, for never could she reveal to him just how much he’d hurt her with his lies and his deceit.

  Nor could she bear that he know how very much she loved him...

  Still.

  The sun broke, transforming Adam and Eve’s world into a brilliant picturesque display.

  As she stretched sleepily, Jessie’s gaze followed the path of the morning sunbeam to where it performed a kaleidoscopic parade upon the wood floor.

  With a start, she remembered just where it was she’d fallen asleep—more important, with whom—and whirled about to stare at the empty space beside her.

  He was gone.

  She moved onto his side of the bed, closing her eyes against the cool sheets, savoring the lingering scent of him.

  She had dreamt of him... his warmth, his hand upon her breast... drawing down the neckline of her gown. His kiss burning her flesh, trailing down, down... leaving a fire burning in its wake...

  She burned still.

  She opened her eyes in self-disgust. Good Lord, but she should be ashamed for thinking such wanton thoughts. Hating herself for them, she arose and dressed for the day, pulling out the first thing her fingers encountered from her trunk. Her brow furrowing with resolve, she determined to do as he had bade her.

  God curse him, she fully intended to stay out of his way.

  Chapter Twenty One

  It took very little effort on her part, for it became apparent that Christian had no care to see her, at all.

  Truth to tell, it was amazing how vast the ship suddenly seemed, despite that she shared his cabin each night. He came only when he was certain she slept... and then, on the third night, he didn’t come at all. She learned from Ben the next morning that Hawk had begun to share their cabin.

  “He’s in a foul temper,” Ben told her as she came upon him. He sat, whittling the crude piece of oak Jessie had found him clutching that first morn. It was beginning, despite Ben’s amateur strokes, to take on the shape of a walking cane.

  “Who?” she asked much too innocently.

  Taking a moment’s pause from his sculpting, Ben peered down at her, his brown eyes troubled. “You know very well to whom I am referring.” He nodded in Christian’s direction, nonetheless.

  Jessie didn’t bother to turn. She knew he was there. She needn’t look to know he was watching them.

  “Tell me,” she said, changing the topic, “how is your leg? Does it pain you still?”

  “Here and there,” he confessed somewhat reluctantly. His features softened as he gazed down at her. “’Tis healing, though, and I’d not have you worrying over it, sweet coz.”

  Jessie averted her gaze, unable to bear seeing his pain.

  He wore one pant leg split up the side so that she wouldn’t be exposed to his nudity while attending him, for despite her lack of medical knowledge, there was no one else to do so. Jean Paul, too, was healing well enough. And though he suffered a lingering fever, it had been mild enough that he’d not bothered to take himself back to bed. Only the paleness of his complexion gave any evidence to his illness, for the man was as out-of-hand as the rest of the crew, stubborn too, for he refused to be coddled or cared for. Ben, on the other hand, seemed content enough to accept what little aid Jessie could give.

  “You need your bandages changed. I brought these.” Dropping the bundle of rags from her arms into Ben’s lap, she sank to her knees to better inspect his thigh. The bandages were free of body fluids for the first time—a good sign, she thought, though she truly couldn’t be certain. With a heartfelt sigh, she began to unravel the soiled wrappings.

  “You shredded one of your gowns for these?”

  Jessie peered up at him to see that he was toying with a bit of lace that still clung to a strip of it, obviously having been overlooked in her haste. He removed it carefully, mindful not to te
ar it in the process, while Jessie busied herself with his leg. “It was old,” she assured him. “It was nothing.”

  Freeing it at last, he held it between his fingers, stroking it meditatively. “I’ve never seen the likes o’ this mood of his, Jessie, and I’ve known the man an eternity.”

  Jessie tugged off a section of his bandage much too quickly and cast him an irate glare.

  “Ayeee! Gad, Jess, be easy with me!” Resisting the urge to shield his wound from further aggression, he gritted his teeth, allowing her to continue. But he said through clenched teeth, “Tell me, coz, what is it you said to him to turn his mood so foul?”

  “And what makes you think ’tis me?” Jessie peered up at him with narrowed eyes.

  Ben shrugged.

  “Nothing he didn’t deserve,” she assured. “And you! You haven’t been alive an eternity!”

  But he had! Jessie thought, glancing briefly toward the ship’s wheel, for he was the devil’s own!

  “Not an eternity, perhaps, but long enough to know...”

  With Ben’s bandages finally unraveled, Jessie glanced up into her cousin’s handsome face. He smiled down at her, though it was a cheerless smile, and it made her heart ache terribly.

  Catching her hand at his knee, he stroked the back of it with his thumb. Jessie could merely stare as he caressed her, feeling uncomfortable with it, yet not quite able to withdraw her hand.

  Her expression anguished, she lifted her face to his, and their gazes held.

  “Sweet Jess,” Ben murmured. “How I could love you... if only...” She flushed, averting her gaze, and he said, “How depraved I must sound to you, wanting you as I do—but I cannot help it! I’ve tried,” he swore, “and I just cannot stop!”

  “Ben...”