by Wendy Stone
When his second wife died, he had cared for Alyssa. And he’d done his best. Now, he could only hope he done the job right. He escorted his beautiful daughter out into the soft air of the spring evening, handing her into the coach himself. The outriders he’d ordered for her followed behind the coach as it started down the long drive and he watched as her face appeared in the uncovered window, her hand raised to wave goodbye to him as they headed out the gate.
* * * *
Jason stared languidly out the coach window, half listening to Teddy’s chatter as the coach made its way up the drive towards the circular stairs that heralded the entrance of the home of Lady Magdalene Harvey, the hostess of today’s gala. She was one of the dowager ladies of the court, a veritable fountain of information if one was wondering who is doing what in society, and also known to be of foul temper. One didn’t get on Lady M’s bad side if one knew what was good for him.
Jason sighed. He wouldn’t be attending this thing if it weren’t for his mother and her desire to see him happily wed. She paraded the most eligible of debutantes from every season in front of him. It was enough to make a sane man scream.
The coach in front of them, an ornate affair with elaborate scrolling and huge rosettes along with two armed outriders, slowed to a stop in front of them. Jason glanced in passing at the passenger as she stepped down, wondering whose coach it was. And then his glance sharpened. It was her, the owner of the teeth whose image marked his thigh. Tonight might be an interesting evening after all.
“Good God,” he heard Teddy exclaim and glanced askance at the man. “There she is, the stuff of my damned nightmares.”
Jason pulled his eyes from the vision in silver, following Teddy’s gaze up the wide steps to where Catherine Trent was stepping out the doors, her arms open in welcome for her friend. She was gorgeous in a beautiful form-fitting gown of emerald green to match her lovely eyes. Instead of sleeves, she wore gloves, leaving her shoulders and most of her rather impressive chest bare.
“I thought you’d decided to ask for her hand, Teddy. What, did she turn you down?”
“Never got through the door. The girl had so many suitors calling I couldn’t even get my card in,” Teddy said, grumpily. “Ain’t bad enough that she is so damned beautiful, but her brother is a duke and has been sending suitors packing left and right. I might as well give it up.”
“Is that any way to talk? Hell man, get some guts and talk to her.”
“I will if you will,” Teddy said, hunching his shoulders and burying his head in his jacket.
“I don’t want Cat for a wife, are you nuts? Trying to keep up with her would be a full-time job. Not interested.”
“Not Cat,” Teddy said hurriedly as their coach pulled up to the stairs. “Alyssa Cortland. You know you’re interested. I haven’t heard you talk so much about one girl or moon over one since we were in short pants.”
Jason turned from where he was getting ready to jump from the coach, throwing Teddy a dirty look from over his shoulder. “I am not mooning. The girl’s irritating. No girl should be able to do the stuff she did. It’s almost mannish of her.”
“There’s nothing mannish about the way she looks in that gown,” Teddy said, hopping out after Jason. “Or how I bet how she would look out of it.”
“Stop talking about her like that,” Jason said before he could stop himself.
“Oh and should I stop thinking about her like that also?” Teddy asked, laughing.
“I think next time we’re on the mats I’m not going to pull my punch like I did today,” Jason said, looking down his nose at his friend as they entered the house, joining the reception line to say hello to their hostess.
The gala was crowded, the guests spilling out into the gardens that were just starting to bloom with spring vibrancy. It was elaborately done, with tiny lanterns lighting the paths and a huge fountain in the center, dominated by a centaur with his forelegs raised in battle.
Jason lost Teddy in the crowd as he circled the room, stopping to talk to friends and acquaintances, searching for his mother. He finally found her sitting amid a group of her friends, their heads bent together as they shared the latest gossip. Jason let his hand rest against her shoulder, bending to press a kiss upon her cheek.
He spoke with her a while, charming the older ladies with his wit and cheeky disposition before once more circling the room. He was about to go into the gaming room when he spotted Alyssa heading out into the garden, her cheeks flushed and her hair curling riotously around her forehead.
Her movements were stealthy and she glanced about her, surveying the guests as if trying not to be spotted. Jason was intrigued. Waiting a few moments, he left using the same door, following around the corner of the house and into a small, mostly deserted area of the garden. He strolled the pathways wondering if he could have somehow missed her.
Then she was there, standing before him in a shaft of moonlight, a low fluttering breeze lifting her curls and making them dance against her face and shoulders. She wasn’t looking at him but out at the garden with its mysterious shadows and myriad of pathways.
He took a moment just to stare, for his heart was beating hard in his chest and his breath seemed locked away. The moonlight made her hair appear darker, taming the fire that burned in its depths. It created sensuous hollows and highlighted her lush lips and huge eyes which came into view as he moved cautiously around her. The silver of her gown made her seem ethereal, a Goddess about to disappear into the moonlight that had carried her to this existence. Tall and willowy, she graced the garden with more beauty than any lifeless statue.
He knew the instant she noticed him, the gasp of her breath traveling to his ears as she saw the figure standing in the shadows. A look crossed her face, not one of fear but of admiration for what she could see of him in the moonlight. Her hand rose to her throat with a shy grace and her eyes traced his body in a manner that quickly aroused his interest.
“I apologize, I didn’t mean to intrude,” he said softly, knowing she would have to strain to hear his words at this distance. “I couldn’t help but be caught in your beauty. You seem like some Greek Goddess, here to seduce us mere mortals with your loveliness and grace.”
Alyssa was intrigued even as she was flattered. The man stood in the shadows and all she could see of his face was a hint of the shape. He was tall, a plus for someone of her height, and his shoulders were wide, though she’d learned that sometimes a tailor may perform amazing deeds with his needle and make the least athletic appear more so.
“Have we met, sir?” she asked, thankful that her tone did not give away her thoughts.
“I think not,” he said, watching her move towards him, graceful and exquisite. “I know I should remember such winsome loveliness as you possess.”
“You flatter me, sir,” she said, moving even closer, almost desperate to see his face. The moon took that moment to thwart her desires, hiding itself behind a huge cloud, deepening the shadows where he stood. “Would you care to give me your name?”
“I should rather try to guess your own, m’lady. If I might?” he asked waiting for her nod.
Alyssa smiled, intrigued by his play. “Of course, sir. But I should warn you, my mother was of a fanciful bent when she named me.”
“Fanciful? Should I guess something outlandish such as Amaryllis, or Persephone? No? Then Eloisa or Aphrodite?” She smiled and shook her head. “Perhaps Cassiopeia? I have it,” he said, smiling down at her, for she’d moved closer during the exchange. “Alyssa.”
“We have met,” she said, laughing up at him. “For it is the only way you could have known so quickly.”
Jason lifted his hand, tracing his finger across her smiling lips. “Perhaps I am just that good,” he said, his voice growing husky as he touched her soft skin.
Alyssa felt his touch as a stroke of fire to her skin, creating ripples of pleasure that flooded through her. She knew that she should leave, flee from here and him before this moment could be d
rawn further. But her feet refused to heed the warnings of her head, even as his hands rose and slid warmly over her shoulders.
His palms were slightly rough, his hands wide and hard as they skimmed over her skin, sliding down her arms and making her shiver with feelings she didn’t understand. When they rose, retracing their path, she barely stifled the moan that seemed drawn from deep within her. Those hands hesitated upon her shoulders before moving down her back, drawing her closer to him even as he stepped those last few inches to take her in his arms.
Her eyes were huge, turbulent seas of gray as she stared into the shadows of his face, knowing he was about to kiss her, and also knowing how wrong it would be. Her hands rose as if to push him away. They lay against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her fluttering fingers. His head tilted as she watched, moving ever closer until she felt the warm brush of his breath against her mouth and then the tiniest of tingles as his lips touched hers.
It was an innocent kiss, mouths pressed together gently, clinging to the moisture of each other. A kiss meant to be a beginning. It lasted, more so because of the wonder of the moment than any design by either participant, as the mood drew them together. Jason raised his head, eyes caressing the softness of her face, the loveliness astounding him even as his head lowered once more.
Desire stormed through him, passion that gave no quarter as her lips clung to his mouth. He heard the small moan she gave, felt it in the long curved body that pressed against him. He withdrew only slightly, his mouth a breath away from hers. “Open your mouth, Alyssa. Let me kiss you like you should be kissed,” he groaned even as he recaptured her mouth, his tongue pushing inside to tangle with hers.
Alyssa was lost. Adrift upon an unfamiliar sea of strange desires and needs that her body was demanding be fulfilled, her only haven was him. This man, whose name she didn’t know, kissing her with abandon, his mouth hot and wildly arousing upon her own, his tongue a flicker of flame in her mouth. His hands roamed her slender form, one slipping around and finding the curve of her breast, cupping it in his palm.
What could have happened if they weren’t interrupted was fodder for her dreams. But interrupted they were, her name in Cat’s voice forcing them from their desire-suffused paradise. Jason lifted his head, his lips feeling lost without the heat of her‘s beneath them. He stared down, groaning silently at the expression of innocent lust upon her face, making her lips pout, her eyes hazy and half closed.
“You are being called,” he whispered, brushing her lips with his own once more, a small taste that did nothing to quench the thirst he felt.
“My friend, Catherine. I’m here with her and her brother,” she said, still trying to see him in the shadows. “Will you not tell me who you are?”
“On our next meeting, lovely lady. Then you shall know me. But for now,” he kissed her once more, a ravishment that left her panting and arching into his hard body. “Go,” he urged as he stepped back. “Go, before I can’t let you leave.”
Alyssa fled, turning only once, just before she left the small garden, to look for him. He had gone as he had come, a shadow that had torn her heart from her chest and taken it with him.
Chapter Three
Jason stared out after her, watching as she turned to peer at the spot he’d just left, seeing the disappointment on her face at finding him gone. She walked back into the open doors of the ballroom. Cat’s face was animated as she talked to her friend but Alyssa’s was more sedate, perhaps even morose, as she constantly glanced over her shoulder at the moonlit garden.
When she disappeared from sight, he sighed, combing an unsteady hand through his hair. He hadn’t expected so much fire in that kiss, so much passion from the young girl. He licked his lips, tasting her upon them and groaning in frustration.
Instead of returning to the gala, he wandered amidst the greenery, lost in a haze of disconnected thoughts that circled around the beautiful vixen in silver. She was passionate, that showed in her actions as well as tonight’s kiss. Innocent she might be, but her lips had been warm and yearning as her achingly tempting body pressed against him with naïve abandon.
“Aargh!” he shouted, looking around to see if anyone had heard. He was alone, he noted with relief. Why was he even thinking about her? This was a mistake. With that thought firmly in mind, he walked through the garden to the front of the house and climbed into his coach, ordering the driver to take him home. He would send the coach back for Teddy with a note. Teddy would understand.
The drive home was interminable; the coach seemed too small to handle his thoughts. When it finally pulled up in front of the small townhouse he rented while in London, he jumped out eagerly and jogged up the steps, anxious to be out of his party togs and into something more comfortable.
The butler was at his post, opening the door with his usual reserved, “Good evening, Your Grace.” Jason nodded and hurried up the stairs, surprising his valet. Dobbs was reclining in the sitting room of his chamber, reading a book.
“Anything good, Dobbs?” he asked, ripping apart the knot the poor man had taken half an hour and four starched cravats to tie.
“Murder and mayhem, Your Grace, the usual fare,” he said, dropping the book onto the sofa and running over to help his master with the rest of his attire. “How was the gala?”
“How are these affairs normally?” Jason sighed, sinking down on the side of his bed while he figured out what to do with the rest of the evening. “They are either depressingly boring or interminably long. Neither of which is conducive to a pleasant evening.”
Dobbs made sounds of agreement, though his mind was back in his book. “What does Your Grace intend to do with the rest of his evening?” he asked, thinking about how long it would take to tie another cravat.
Jason shrugged out of his shirt, handing the barely worn garment to his valet and stretching his broad shoulders. For a gentleman of means, he was very well-formed. The time he spent at his club and working the horses that he loved helped to keep him in better than average shape. His shoulders were wide, muscles curving down his arms and back, his chest broad and well delineated, his body tan from the farm where he kept his horses.
“Go back to your murder and mayhem, Dobbs. I shall dress and go for a ride. It is late enough that I don’t believe I shall meet anyone who will die of embarrassment if I’m not wearing a cravat under my coat.” He leaned forward and pulled out the plainest of his shirts, buttoning it quickly and tucking it into the breeches he still wore. Yanking out an old jacket that his valet always tried to throw away, he changed from the soft leather shoes he’d worn to the gala into knee-high boots and left the room.
The jacket was a faded black and scuffed from wear. It covered the white shirt he’d left a few buttons open on, exposing his throat and collarbone. Without his hat, his dark hair was quickly wind blown as he walked toward the stables situated at the back of the property.
No one was present when he entered the building. Instead of causing a ruckus amongst his staff, he went and got his stallion, saddling the big beast himself. The horse, black with a white sock on his front foot, came to him eagerly, nosing at his pockets for the treat Jason normally brought.
“Later, you big baby,” he told him, pushing the horse’s head up as he went to get his saddle from the tack room. “If you don’t watch it, none of the ladies are going to want to look at you. Your belly will get too big.”
The horse nickered, turning his head and grabbing a mouth full of jacket, almost knocking Jason off his feet.
Jason laughed, feeling better than he had since he’d nearly been run down by a vixen in the park. He saddled his horse, stepped up and rode off, letting the horse have his head and enjoying the evening air.
It was a pleasure to feel good horseflesh between his legs and to smell the scent of spring in the air. He forgot his worries. So much so that he lost track both of the time and where he was going, finding himself in the middle of a thicket. He knew his horse could find the way ho
me easily, and the huge moon made the evening fairly bright. He was ready to turn around when a shot rang out, startling him.
He ducked before he realized the shot hadn’t been aimed at him but was over another small rise. As he was about to turn away, not wanting to disturb a hunter or come upon trouble without his own pistol handy, he heard more shots and a very feminine scream.
Jason kicked his horse in the direction of the sound, tacking around so as not to come unprepared upon whatever drama was unfolding. He snuck up a wide roadway, seeing a coach stopped in the center of the road. Two men lay in their own blood just beyond, presumably dead. Another man was in the ditch closer to him, but just as still. Taking another look at the coach, Jason let loose a whispered round of invectives. He recognized the ornate scrolling and rosettes.
“She’s a fine wench. Shall we take her with us?” A man’s voice, from the direction of the coach.
“My father shall have your heads if you hurt me,” This voice was feminine, very angry and very familiar. The defiance was likely to get her into more trouble than she could handle herself.
Jason raised his eyes to the heavens, muttered a quick prayer that she wouldn’t say anything to get them both killed and worked his way over to where the dead highwayman was lying in the ditch. He stole the man’s mask and hat, buttoning his jacket so that it covered most of his white shirt. He tied his horse up just out of sight, trusting the animal not to give him away with an ill-timed whinny. Reaching down, he picked up the dead bandit’s pistol, silently cursing when he saw that it had already been fired.
He’d have to bluff his way out of this one. The mask covered the top of his face, leaving the bottom half exposed. He moved silently until he could walk around the coach, staring at the scene before him.
