‘I don’t want to marry any man,’ she cautioned. ‘I’ve been married twice and when Yann died I decided that no man would own me. I have my independence and I intend to keep it.’
‘Is that all that you need?’ Jack asked.
‘No. There are other things that I’ve missed.’ She stepped close and put her hand to Jack’s chest. ‘Things I would like to remember.’
Her heart was beating fast. She’d propositioned men of more importance for greater stakes, but she trembled at the thought that Jack might refuse or scorn her.
‘Do I understand what you’re suggesting?’ Jack said. He spoke in a low, urgent voice.
‘Yes.’ Blanche took a deep breath and fixed her eyes on his, concentrating on the blue depths. ‘We’ll say goodbye soon and I want to make love to you before we do. Do you want that, too?’
‘Don’t you know the answer?’ he asked.
‘I want you to say it.’
His eyes burned with hunger. ‘I want you, Blanche. You have no idea how much. I want you more than any woman I can remember.’
‘The thought of being with you has consumed me since I first saw you. But the consequences could be serious.’
‘My reputation is my own concern and who is there to witness it here? I’ve only borne two children over years of lovemaking. Perhaps I don’t have that ability any longer.’
‘I promise I won’t let it get to that stage,’ Jack said. ‘I know when to draw back.’
Blanche smiled. ‘One time, then, in each other’s arms with no secrets or recriminations.’
Chapter Thirteen
Slowly, aware that his eyes were on her, Blanche undid the clasp of her surcoat that sat beneath her breasts and gave a shrug. The surcoat slipped over both shoulders and to the ground, the heavy folds pooling at her feet. It was a trick she had perfected that rarely failed to leave lovers breathless with desire and she saw it had the intended effect on Jack. She wiggled out of her skirt and stood clothed only in a light kirtle. The silk caught in the wind and swirled around her, alternately billowing or clinging to the outline of her body. Jack’s eyes were fixed on her. The muscles in his neck were tight and she could see the telltale swelling in his breeches that told her he wanted her and was ready to act on his desires. He loosened the laces of his tunic, his eyes never leaving hers, but other than that he did not move.
‘Why are you standing there doing nothing?’ she asked. The worry that she had misjudged him reared up. She could not have been so wrong in her appraisal of him, surely?
Jack spread his hands wide and curled his lips into a teasing smile. ‘You once told me never to touch you without permission.’
Relief flooded over Blanche, followed immediately by a swell of desire. She gave a gentle laugh, then held her hands out.
‘Jack, you most certainly have my permission.’
He was moving towards her even before she had finished speaking and, when the final, crucial word had left her mouth, his was there, falling on hers. His kiss was hot and urgent, lips crushingly firm. She clamped her mouth to his, urging his tongue to seek her own. One of them moaned, but she could not tell whom the primal sound had come from. His lips left hers, travelled along her jaw, down her neck, tasting and lapping at her skin as they settled on her collarbone. Blanche threw her head back as Jack’s kisses teased the nerves awake until her skin was on fire. She craned her neck and found his ear, giving it a nip with her front teeth, and heard his choked gasp of pleasure as he ran his tongue around the soft hollow.
His hands moved downwards, pushing the shift from Blanche’s shoulders. The soft linen glided over her nipples, sending pleasure shooting through her as he eased it further down until the top of her breasts were exposed. She reached beneath his tunic, stroking the firm flesh as she had longed to do for so long. Jack skimmed his fingers over her neck, then further down, spreading them out wide over the sides of her breasts, tormenting her with maddening slowness as he took his time to bring his palms down until he cupped their fullness. She moaned and he increased the pressure slightly, bringing his thumbs to her nipples and circling around them gently.
‘Is that good?’ he asked. His mouth settled against her neck so his breath was hot against her ear, then he drew back and looked deep into her eyes. His gaze was so full of desire that Blanche almost swooned. He wanted to know, to understand whether what he was doing was making her happy. It had been so long since a man had cared whether or not she took pleasure from his touch that she wanted to fall against him and beg him to simply hold her in this unaccustomed feeling of being cared about. But then he brushed his fingers over the tips of her nipples, already sensitive, and now unbearably so. A throb of heat between her legs told her she could not—would not—stop at any cost.
‘So good,’ she gasped, bringing her hands between them to scrape her fingernails up from Jack’s abdomen and over the contours of his chest to find his own hard nipples. She pinched gently and felt him shudder.
‘Is that good?’ she breathed, pinching harder with one hand while sliding the other up behind his head to draw him into a kiss.
Jack’s answer was a deep-throated growl of pleasure, then he was lifting her, arms around her waist, and backing her against the largest of the upright stones, pinning her against it with the full length of his body. His length was hard against her. She tore at the tapes at the waistband of his hose to free him. Instead of entering her, he slid his hand down, bunching her shift up and delving between her legs, fingers searching and finding their target, circling around, sliding in and out. Blanche’s knees buckled as waves of delight ebbed and flowed, dictated by Jack’s strokes that were alternately feather-light or firm. When she sensed herself rising to the top of the highest crest she tore her hands from round his back, reaching down to grasp him and guide him inside her.
‘I want you...now...’ she said, panting.
He entered her hard, grinding himself against her. Blanche cried out as each thrust brought them closer to the peak of abandonment, her voice mingling with Jack’s. She reached the end before he did and would have gone limp with exhaustion but for the weight of him holding her upright, captive against the stone. He was not far behind and as his strokes became faster and deeper, Blanche felt him draw out. She reached her hand downwards, grasping him, hand moving firmly until he, too, shuddered to his climax.
Afterwards they slumped together against the stone, limbs askew, wrapped in what discarded clothing they could be bothered to draw over themselves. Jack yawned. Blanche blinked herself awake. She was growing sleepy. The warmth of Jack’s arms was somewhere she could imagine staying for ever.
‘Do you think I shall turn to stone for what we’ve done?’ Blanche murmured. She wiggled her hands down into his lap and grinned. ‘At one point I suspected you were starting to.’
Jack laughed and pulled her closer. ‘Nothing as wonderful as what we did here deserves punishment. I’ll treasure these memories as long as I have them.’
Blanche’s throat seized. It never ceased to amaze her how each man she had lain with had been so different. Mael had been enthusiastic, full of fun and excitement but, Blanche had to admit, more concerned with his satisfaction than hers and she had never fully been able to articulate what was missing from their lovemaking. Yann had been older, understanding that there was more to a woman’s pleasure than the bare bones of the act itself, but preferring the same sequence of events that reached a conclusion swiftly had eventually grown a little dull. Jack was neither and she could already tell that this one time would be remembered more clearly than her two husbands.
‘We should go on to Benestin,’ she said.
* * *
Benestin was not much larger than the village but had a grander square and most of the houses had two storeys. They left the horses in stable down a quiet alley and followed the discordant sound of pipes back towards the bustling square.
They walked arm in arm, not talking of what they had done, but bodies brushing with newly discovered intimacy. The longing to be as close to Blanche as possible even in the public place consumed Jack. He could scarcely believe that less than an hour ago he had been holding her upright as she writhed in ecstasy, pulling him deep inside her until his mind and body emptied of all but the most animalistic sensations. Once only, they had agreed. He should leave as soon as possible before he broke that agreement. But how could he part from her after what they had done?
The scent of oysters roasting in their juices over hot coals competed with steaming pots of vegetables and meat simmering in broth to entice hungry passers-by. Jack’s mouth began to water and he inhaled deeply. He was very hungry and the energetic time he’d spent on the clifftop with Blanche had given him an appetite for more than lovemaking.
‘Shall we buy some?’ Blanche asked. She didn’t wait for an answer, but walked to the third oyster seller and returned with a basket of them, cracked open and lying on their shells. They devoured the salty, buttery flesh with their fingers, licking the juices away enthusiastically.
The sight of Blanche’s tongue curling round her fingertips sent a frisson up and down Jack’s spine. She caught him watching and giggled, sounding like a young maiden.
‘You’ve missed a spot,’ she said. She brushed her thumb across the side of Jack’s mouth, then held it for inspection, glistening with a smear of butter. Jack turned his head and caught the proffered thumb between his teeth, nipping gently. Blanche gave a small squeak. Jack ran his tongue slowly and suggestively along the inside, down to the soft fold of flesh where it joined her forefinger. Blanche closed her eyes, her face taking on a look of longing that sent Jack’s head spinning with lust.
‘Monsieur Langdon! You are alive! It is a miracle.’
Jack was tugged from his reverie at the sound of his name. He turned and found himself clutched by the arms and pulled into a hug.
‘How good to see you again.’
The man released Jack and looked at him. Clearly, they knew each other, but like all faces, this one belonged to a stranger.
‘You know me?’
The man wrinkled his brow. ‘You are jesting with me? It is Nevez. Your friend Petrus! You don’t remember me?’
He looked confused.
‘I’m afraid my friend Jack has lost some of his memories.’ Blanche stepped to Jack’s side. Her expression was calm and all traces of ecstasy had vanished. He smiled at her. The description of them as friends, and the heat with which she looked at him, made his heart swell.
‘Monsieur Langdon, that is a tragedy.’ The man who called himself Nevez wrung his hands together.
‘But you know him?’ Blanche prompted.
‘I do. He was a passenger on board my ship when we were grounded on rocks and were wrecked. It was a dreadful accident.’
Blanche and Jack exchanged a furtive look. It had been no accident, but was there any purpose to be served admitting this to Nevez? He recalled the barrels with swords and wasn’t sure he could trust the man who had been smuggling them.
‘Tell me what you know of me, please,’ Jack said. ‘I have learned some things.’
‘Willingly. But perhaps there is somewhere better suited than the middle of a square? Somewhere to quench my thirst?’
The hint could not have been broader. Blanche led the way to an inn that had opened the front and put tables and stools out into the square where a tumbler entertained the drinkers. They found a secluded corner and squeezed in. The serving girl brought them an earthenware jug of cider and three cups. Jack winced as Blanche paid. Of course Nevez would expect to be entertained while he told his information, but it pained Jack that he had no money of his own.
‘I know my name is Jack,’ Jack began. ‘I have some documents that tell me I am an intermediary for a company.’ He didn’t mention the coded tablets.
‘Yes. You buy wine. You were intending to return to England and were travelling with me to Roscoff. I had hoped to persuade you to commission some of the wine I transport.’
Again, Blanche and Jack exchanged a look. Nevez clearly didn’t suspect they knew about the other cargo of swords he had been transporting. Nevez poured another cup of cider and held out the empty jug. Clearly, he expected a replacement. Blanche raised her hand to summon the innkeeper, but Jack shook his head. She ignored him and ordered.
‘It is worth the price to discover the truth,’ she said.
‘My vessel was wrecked,’ Nevez sighed. ‘But I was fortunate that my boat washed up along the coast and I have my life. I have procured a new ship and will be sailing to Roscoff as soon as I am able.’
‘Were you the only survivor?’ Blanche asked gently.
‘No. All who were in the boat made it safely to shore. Some of us have parted ways. One has gone to join the fight to return Brittany to her rightful heir. One joined the army of Charles de Blois.’ He broke off and spat angrily on the ground. ‘Pardon, madame, but that traitor’s name makes my mouth taste foul.’
Blanche smiled. ‘No pardon is necessary. We are also not friends of de Blois in these parts.’
‘And what of my allegiances?’ Jack said, sitting forward. The salvation of the crew was welcome news, but meant nothing to him emotionally. ‘Would I support Charles de Blois?’
‘Not from what I know of you,’ Nevez said.
The tension in Jack’s shoulders eased at this confirmation that he and Blanche were on the same side. It was only a small detail, but it was enough to confirm he was not her enemy. The idea of discovering she had reason to hate him was agonising.
‘If only your friend had been here when we found you it would have saved a lot of trouble,’ Blanche said. ‘You and I are allies after all.’
Her eyes shone and Jack realised the news was as much of a relief to her as to him. Her fingers reached beneath the table and found his hand. She held it tight. They held each other’s gaze and warmth spread through Jack. He was growing closer to knowing his past. If he could then begin to look towards a future, was it too much to dare hope it could include Blanche in some way?
‘Did I tell you much about myself?’ he asked Nevez.
‘Not much.’ Nevez studied him. ‘If you will excuse me, you seem calmer, Monsieur Langdon. When we first encountered each other, you were about to challenge half of Concarneau to a brawl. You were raging and didn’t seem to care who you affronted. Whether or not you lived or died did not seem to bother you.’
Jack swallowed. So the craving for destruction was not new. He had suspected as much, but there was still no explanation why he’d been so reckless with his life. Nevez peered at him.
‘You are not wearing your cross.’
Jack’s hand went instinctively to his neck and a memory flickered to life. He’d sensed on more than one occasion that something felt wrong, hadn’t he? There was an absence of something that unsettled him. Was faith an intrinsic part of his life he had lost?
‘I don’t remember owning one.’
‘The cross you wore around your neck constantly. I am so sorry you have lost it.’
Blanche put her cup on the table and sat back.
‘Will you excuse me, messieurs?’
She slipped from the stool and began walking towards the alley where they had left the horses. A horrible suspicion began to creep over Jack. She had withheld the existence of the box from him. Did she know something about the cross Nevez spoke of? He called her name and she spun around.
‘Jack, can you make your own way back home?’
Her expression was tense and her shoulders were rigid. Jack felt his stomach plummet as he recalled what she had done to regain the box from Ronec. He leapt from the stool and ran to her.
‘What do you know?’
She walked away, shaking her head. She quickened her pace, but Jack was not going
to let that be the end of the matter. She was halfway back to the stable when he caught her by the sleeve. He pulled her to stop with more roughness than he intended and she spun round angrily.
‘Don’t touch me like that!’
Jack released her immediately, shocked that he had even dared to grab hold of her so brutally in the first place.
‘You know what Nevez is talking about, don’t you?’
Her mouth twisted and her complexion grew pale. Jack felt sick as he remembered what she had done in order to retrieve the box. He could not bear the thought of her returning to Ronec and having to bargain herself once more. He reached for her, taking her cheeks in his palms, fingers buried deep in her hair.
‘I won’t let you go to him,’ he said, pressing his forehead to hers.
‘To whom?’ Blanche wrinkled her brows, then as she worked out who he meant, she pulled free and covered her face with her hands.
‘I’ll go myself and force Ronec to surrender it,’ Jack said. He reached a hand to her shoulder and tried to bring her round into an embrace but she stiffened and pulled away.
‘There’s no need.’ She raised her head and the expression on her face was so full of distress Jack forgot to breathe.
‘Jagu doesn’t have your cross. I do. I’ve had it all along.’
Jack dropped his hand. A rushing noise filled his ears. Blanche seized the opportunity and bolted to the stables. When she appeared on her horse and rode away towards the road home, Jack did not even call out to her. He returned to Nevez.
‘Your woman is not with you?’ Nevez asked.
‘She’s not my woman,’ Jack said, more forcefully than he intended.
Nevez raised an eyebrow.
‘She’s not mine,’ Jack repeated in a softer voice. The rapid throb of his heart reminded him how much he wished she could be.
‘You like her, though.’
Jack didn’t answer. He filled his cup and sipped the cider slowly to give himself time to consider the question. His feelings for Blanche were too complicated to be easily defined. Yes, he liked her. A lot. He desired her. He wanted her and wanted to be with her. When he had thought even for a moment she was about to return to Ronec, he had felt such a rush of protectiveness it had startled him. The longer he spent in her presence, knowing her bravery and what she had done to retrieve his box and what she had put herself through after Yann’s death filled him with admiration. True, she was hard and imperious, but beneath that there was warmth that he thought he had only just seen the top layer of. When they had made love, he’d witnessed a passionate side that she had concealed so well he still doubted it had really happened.
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