Kissed; Christian

by Tanya Anne Crosby

  In his absence, she was being coated with pitch and tar; she’d be scoured and repainted next.

  Hell, he’d even commissioned stained glass for his cabin windows—extravagant, aye, but he spent far more time aboard his vessels than anywhere else, and he’d have one place for himself that didn’t scream of meagerness. He inhaled deeply, anticipating his return to the sea, and the scent of sodden earth jolted him rudely from his pleasures.

  At some point during the course of their first visit together, he’d concluded that vengeance against Jessie’s brother was pointless.

  She would doubtless be the one to suffer its consequences, and the last thing he wished was to hurt her. After his last evening with her, he was more determined than ever not to wound her sweet little heart.

  She deserved more.

  So much more than he could offer her.

  Christ, but he’d managed even to convince himself that he’d never intended to follow through with her brother’s asinine proposal to begin with, that curiosity, and curiosity alone, had prompted him to accept when he should have spat in the bastard’s face instead. And having convinced himself of that much, he’d determined never to see her again. His curiosity had been appeased, after all, and there was simply no point to it.

  He couldn’t have her.

  Didn’t want her.

  Of that, too, he endeavored to convince himself. But it hadn’t quite worked that way. Like a besotted youth, he’d gone to see her again and again—even after that wise decision had been arrived at—bloody fool that he was! Who would have figured he would find the chit so damned engaging?

  Damn it all to hell and back.

  Grimacing at the turn of his thoughts, he tried to focus upon his commerce once more.

  Nay... England would never do as a safe harbor. There was no way he’d bring his ships anywhere near her with illicit cargo aboard. Even if he could pull it off, he wanted no trace of scandal to mark his future here—concern not for himself, but for his heirs, of course.

  Perhaps the West Indies—or even Charlestown would do... though Charlestown had never really been a smuggler’s haven.

  The image of a black-haired child rose up to taunt him... hair as silky soft and shiny as a raven’s wings, a daughter with eyes so luminous a green, they made his heart melt with a single glance and his heart squeezed with a longing so keen, it was physical.

  Snarling in self-contempt, he sawed the reins.

  The truth was that the cab he had ordered had long since arrived. Nothing more required him to keep residence in this godforsaken place—certainly it wasn’t fond memories that kept him here. He’d written off the estate long ago. Along with his relationship with Philip, he’d banished every last trace of his former life from his heart. So then, he was left with only one explanation for lingering.

  Jessie; he was reluctant to leave her.

  Now that he’d made her acquaintance, he found he could not so easily put her from his thoughts, or his life.

  He felt some measure of responsibility for her father’s death, he told himself. He’d never expected the man to be such a weak-kneed, feckless fool. Nor had he ever expected to feel any remorse. Yet as much as he’d like to deny it now, he felt duty-bound to look after Jessamine’s welfare. He’d purposely set out to devastate both her father’s name and his resources.

  And God damn him to hell, he’d succeeded.

  What he hadn’t counted on was the man losing a son, as well, and then taking his life over his losses. It had merely been his intention to give The Duke of Westmoor a small taste of what he himself had been dealt. The man had proven a weak-minded fool.

  God’s teeth, why the devil should he feel guilty for any of it?

  He shook his head in self-disgust, his jaw working, for the fact was that he did. Pivoting his mount about, he headed towards Westmoor, ignoring the warnings that sounded like foghorns in his head. But he had the distinct feeling he was going to sorely regret this.

  Jessie marveled that no matter how oft the colt was brought outdoors, it reacted as surprised and delighted with the warm sun upon its back as it had upon its first outing. The instant she detached the leading rein, it darted away, bucking and twisting in a dance of euphoria. Then suddenly it stopped, ears perked, only to dance again without warning. She giggled softly at its antics. There was no question that the animal was altogether enchanted with life. She only wished she were, too.

  Her knight in shining armor was somewhat tarnished.

  Nearby, the dam stood nibbling at the grass. Every so oft she’d glance up to eye the colt, and nicker softly as though to reproach him—a useless gesture, for the colt merely dismissed her gentle rebuke, and her whinny managed only to attract Mrs. Brown’s attention.

  Mrs. Brown, the old goat, had been a faithful companion to many a brood mare, and seemed to have grown particularly fond of the stable’s newest addition. The faithful animal seemed content as long as she had something to nibble, grass, leaves, the mare’s mane or tail. Jessie smiled. Once, even, the goat had managed to swallow a goodly portion of her skirt before she’d even realized it stood behind her.

  Just now, Mrs. Brown’s ancient face appeared between the fence slats, head cocked inquisitively. As Jessie watched, the goat shimmied beneath the fence to join her companions. Hoisting herself up, Jessie sat upon the fence to watch the goat and mare sniff proper greetings to one another. Afterward, as though they’d shared some great parental confidence, the mare nodded and Mrs. Brown turned to scrutinize the spirited colt with a commiserative bleat. Despite her glum mood, Jessie found herself smiling at the amusing exchange, for they were not unlike a pair of gossiping old maids.

  Christian spotted her at once, sitting upon the stable fence, her back to him.

  He didn’t bother dismounting. She was so enthralled with the young foal gamboling before her that she didn’t seem to realize his presence even once he was directly behind her. She laughed suddenly, the sound low and musical, and warmth spread through his veins.

  “Good morning, m’mselle.”

  She swung about, nearly toppling from her perch upon the fence. “My lord!” Regaining her composure, she cast him a reproachful glance. “You startled me. How do you manage to appear so suddenly?”

  Christian swung down from his mount, forcing levity, offering a wink and a smile. If she asked him to leave, he didn’t know what he’d do. “My apologies if I’ve disturbed you, cherie.”

  “Not at all,” she said, somewhat sullenly, looking almost like a child with her slumped shoulders. There was no chance, however, she could be mistaken for a child, for her femininity was nothing if not conspicuous.

  She turned away to watch the colt, avoiding his gaze. “I wasn’t expecting you,” she said. “In truth, I thought perhaps you’d taken your leave of Hakewell, for ’tis been an age since I saw you last.”

  Christian felt certain she wasn’t aware how much she had disclosed with her carefully worded grievance.

  “I had business to attend,” he lied, and hobbled his mount to the fence, then hoisted himself up to sit beside her, facing her, his back to the enclosure to better see her.

  She looked at him, brows drawn. Devil hang him if she didn’t have the most beautiful eyes. They were his undoing.

  “Didn’t you miss me at all?” he whispered at her ear.

  For a long instant she merely stared, and he could see the confusion in her eyes. He’d done this to her, he realized. Without even trying, he’d begun to do her damage already. What more injury might be done if he stayed?

  He should leave, he knew. It was the right thing to do, but he couldn’t... .

  “I did, my lord,” she confessed, and her eyes turned suspiciously liquid. He cursed himself roundly. She ducked her head, her cheeks flushing prettily, and Christian reached out to lift her chin with a finger.

  Their gazes held.

  He stroked her chin with his thumb.

  God only knew, he didn’t deserve her assurance, but he need
ed to hear it, even so…

  “I’m glad to know I’m not so easily dismissed,” he said, his voice as gentle as a caress.

  Jessie shivered, her breath catching softly at the intensity of his gaze. She stared stupidly. His eyes... they seemed to be looking into the very depths of her soul... One brow rose slightly, and he smiled, a roguish smile, as he lifted her hand, placing it to his chest.

  “Do this wretched heart o’ mine a kindness,” he whispered. “Tell me again, cherie... that you missed me.”

  Jessie’s heart skipped its normal beat.

  She prayed her blush wouldn’t deepen and give her away. Of course, she had—so much so that some part of her had nearly died with grief in his absence.

  But he might have sent word—might have told her that he intended to return, rather than let her speculate and worry. Rather than leave her to fend off Eliza’s smug “I told you so” looks. Her heart tripped painfully when his sensual lips broke into a wicked little grin, and she felt the telltale warmth creep down to the tips of her very toes. And yet she couldn’t tell him what he wished to hear.

  She couldn’t let him see how much his inattention had hurt her.

  How much his return meant to her.

  She felt much too vulnerable.

  She forced a lighthearted smile. “I-I was watching the colt.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at the animal in question, then turned again to scrutinize her. Staring meaningfully into her eyes, he whispered slowly, “Exquisite creature.”

  “Yes... he is,” she agreed.

  His mouth quirked with amusement, and she wondered what she’d said.

  “The dam was a gift from my father,” she explained.

  His grin turned crooked. “That was quite generous of your father, Jessamine, but I wasn’t speaking of the colt, you see…”

  Her hair was caught today at her nape in a brilliant yellow bow; a few of her dark, shiny curls had found their way free and now fell in abandon, framing her lovely face. Her soft, pale cheeks were flushed from too much sun. In her bright saffron muslin gown she seemed a ray of sunshine herself.

  As though she only now grasped his meaning, her gaze fell demurely, and it was all he could do not to lean forward and kiss those soft lips as he craved to do.

  He had to remind himself she was not some dockside miss to be mishandled. For most every second of the last two weeks he’d fantasized about seeing her again, kissing her—a new experience to him, this idle daydreaming. He decided it had been much too long since he’d lain with a woman, for even now he found himself helpless to follow his baser instincts. Her sweet innocence fed his lust; like kindling to burning coals, it set him afire, brought him to a full and painful arousal. He wanted to make her smile, he realized. He didn’t relish seeing her this way.

  “Jessie,” he said, “I’m sorry if I’ve neglected you these past weeks... I wanted to come. I swear I did. I simply couldn’t.” And it was the truth, nothing but the truth. “Forgive me?”

  Jessie wanted to believe him, she truly did.

  He’d still not released her hand, she realized. She nodded at last, unable to deny him the words he wished to hear when he looked at her so affectionately. “Yes,” she confessed softly, and her heart quickened painfully as he lowered his face to hers suddenly. “Yes, I do…”

  He smiled. “Thank you,” he said. “’Tis the truth that I thought of you every moment.” He stared deeply into her eyes. “May I kiss you again, Jessie?”

  Her heart lurched, and she stammered, “Y-You wish to...”

  “Kiss you,” he finished, nodding. “Very much so, Jessie.”

  The sound of her name on his lips gave her heart a jolt. He drew away a fraction, watching her with smoldering eyes and his covetous expression was her undoing. If she’d harbored even a thought of resisting, it was gone now. His gaze flicked provocatively to her lips, and he came forward once more, his hand touching her cheek as their lips met softly.

  “I’ve craved this every moment we’ve been apart,” he murmured.

  God help her, but so had she...

  For a few seconds, Jessie ceased to breathe at all. The shock of his lips as they touched upon her own prompted her to clamp her lips tightly shut. He made a sound, part chuckle, part groan, as though her absurd reaction had somehow pleased him, and then he cradled her face within his hands, pecking one corner of her mouth first, then the other, ending with a kiss on the bridge of her nose.

  Breathe! Jessie commanded herself. Breathe!

  But she couldn’t, and then as his mouth lifted and descended once again, grazing hers, moving seductively over her trembling lips, molding insistently with her own, her uncertainty vanished. With subtle but coercive pressure, he coaxed her lips apart, and liquid fire spilled into her mouth. Never in her life had she been kissed so exquisitely, so thoroughly. Indeed, never in her life had she been kissed at all… except by him.

  “God... you are lovely,” he whispered into her mouth.

  Jessie shivered as his tongue slipped boldly between her lips once more, the feel of it as erotically soft as warm, wet velvet upon her bare flesh.

  She knew she should protest.

  It was the right thing to do.

  She opened her mouth to speak and he whispered into her mouth. “Hush, Jessie… don’t deny me this... a kiss and no more…”

  Chapter Seven

  Heaven help her.

  Jessie wanted this too.

  A kiss and no more.

  Jessie was helpless to do anything but nod weakly as his tongue dove within the depths of her mouth. It was the most tender moment of her life. She was completely powerless to do anything but wrap her arm about his waist and hold on lest she melt from his embrace into a pool upon the ground. She could feel his warmth even through his coat.

  Abashedly she realized that her hand was exploring the breadth of his back... and worse, she was trembling.

  Mortified, she tried to still her quaking by pressing her hand more firmly against him. She was startled to find that his heart hammered fiercely, too. It was more than evident to her that Lord Christian had kissed many a woman in his life, and Jessie had been afraid he would find her wanting. And yet... if she wasn’t mistaken... if she wasn’t imagining, he was trembling, as well...

  Or rather... it was his coat that trembled...

  Her brows drew together, for the movement seemed to commence... She groped downward. At his coattail? Her curious fingers moved downward and encountered a warm, fuzzy face.

  Mrs. Brown!

  Understanding dawned, though even as she acknowledged the sloppy sound of Mrs. Brown chewing Lord Christian’s frock coat, there was a sudden tug. It happened so quickly. Unwilling to take Jessie down with him, he released her at once and went flying backward.

  With wide, incredulous eyes, Jessie watched as he tumbled into the enclosure at her feet. Startled, the goat bleated and leapt away, a small morsel of Lord Christian’s coattail still caught within her twitching mouth.

  Lord Christian remained sprawled before her as dust settled upon his dark coat and breeches.

  Prompted by his stillness, Mrs. Brown ventured back to glare down into his dazed face. He recoiled as she lowered her nose to sniff indignantly at him.

  Jessie couldn’t help it; his dumbfounded expression brought a peal of laughter to her lips. All the tension of the past weeks dissolved at the sight before her.

  “What is that?”

  “That!” she told him, her voice strangled with giggles. “That—” Lord help her, but she could not quite manage her hilarity, his expression was so comical. “That,” she tried again, “is Mrs. Brown!”

  “Mrs. Brown?” He eyed the goat balefully, and Mrs. Brown scurried away, decidedly uneasy with the look he gave her.

  Jessie was teary-eyed with laughter when next he spoke.

  “A bloody goat!”

  “Yes, my lord!”

  Jessie managed an appropriately sober nod, and reached up to dab her misty
eyes with a finger, only to burst out laughing once more.

  To his credit, he managed a chuckle as he admonished her, “If you’d not wished to kiss me, m’mselle, you might simply have said no.” He arched a plaintive brow.

  “But, oh,” Jessie cried, her merriment rekindled. “It was so much more effective this way! Do you not think so, my lord?” She burst out laughing and Christian’s hand darted out to catch her ankle. With very little effort, he snatched her down into his embrace.

  Laughing, she tumbled down atop him. “My lord!” she shrieked, scandalized.

  “What?” he asked much too innocently.

  Her laughter ended abruptly as his hand slid about her waist, securing her where she sat.

  She had no idea what a tempting morsel she made, Christian decided.

  Supporting their combined weight with one arm, he slowly drew her toward him.

  Her intake of breath was audible, and her breast rose enticingly with the effort, tempting him beyond reason, bewildering him so that he momentarily forgot his resolve merely to kiss her.

  His breath caught as he found his mouth at the level of her breast, a blatant invitation to his parted lips. He was so close now...

  So many times he’d fantasized about loving her this way...

  He closed his eyes, commanding what was left of his self-control. All he needed to do was move a fraction forward. Only a fraction... and then suckle...

  But it would frighten her, he knew.

  As much as he wished to believe she was wise to his needs, that she shared them—that she knew where this petting and fondling would lead—he recognized innocence when faced with it. She was too bloody naive to even know how to restrain her newly awakened passions.

  Damn, but he wanted this.

  Closing his eyes in an attempt to regain his composure, he caught the heady scent of lilacs—perhaps from a sachet secreted beneath her undergarments—and he was at once thankful for his tight breeches to conceal the evidence upon which she was so innocently perched.