Her gaze returned to Ben, for it seemed to her he did, indeed, walk with a slight limp, though his leg was much improved. She watched her cousin hobble before them, trying to clear away the clutter from their path, and her heart felt burdened for him.
Christian left her to aid Ben, and no one spoke another word as they attempted to wade through the chaos of his home. Again to her surprise, Jessie was led up the spiral staircase to a fully furnished chamber decorated in much the same manner as the cabin she’d occupied upon the Mistral. Here, however, there were no stained-glass windows. Instead, there were six full-length panes, one set of them being a double door that led to what she assumed was a balcony.
She went to it, unlocking it and opening the doors. Leaving the lantern behind, upon a table, she stepped out into the black night, taking a deep, calming breath, for it had not escaped her just where Christian had brought her.
For a long moment she merely stood, staring into the darkness, unsure of what to say or feel. He came up behind her, his footfalls soft and almost inaudible; she sensed more than heard him.
“I take it this is the master’s chamber?” she said after a moment.
“It is.”
“And where am I to sleep?” she dared to ask, her tone dauntless, though she wasn’t quite brave enough to look at him as yet.
“Here, of course,” he said firmly. “As was the case upon the ship, there is no other place but here. As Ben said, the house is still under construction—only the kitchens are complete as yet, the dining room, my office, and the entrance hall. Upstairs, there is this room, and one other, and Jean Paul and Ben will utilize the other. You shall sleep here.”
“And where will you sleep?” She braced herself for his answer. “Here?” she persisted, turning to face him. She shook her head. “If so, Christian, I’ll not stay with you! In case you’ve forgotten, you’ve already ruined my life once—I’ll not let you do so again!”
Christian sighed regretfully. “It’s too late for that, don’t you think?”
Her vision blurred at his insinuation. “You are heartless!” she choked out, refusing to cry.
“The truth is, Jessie, that you have no choice.” He sighed deeply, shaking his head. “You cannot leave Shadow Moss, as you well know. Everyone believes you’ve sailed to England with Ben. If you go back now, you’ll raise suspicions—not to mention the fact that your reputation would surely be in tatters then. After all, there were no other women aboard the Mistral.”
“Yes!” she hissed, her lips trembling in her fury. “Though what difference does it make if I go now, or wait until Ben heals? Either way my reputation will be ruined—and ’tis all your fault!” Her face twisted with grief. “Why couldn’t you have simply let me be? Why? You didn’t need me.”
Christian averted his gaze, his jaw working. “It seemed the thing to do at the time. I thought Ben and Jean Paul were injured more seriously than they were.” He met her eyes once more, his own sparkling with some emotion Jessie couldn’t quite decipher. He shuttered it quickly, masking it with sarcasm. “Aren’t you pleased I was wrong?”
Jessie shook her head, unable to speak, and he cast his head backward staring into the sky, closing his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said without opening his eyes. The rigid planes of his face were so taut, he seemed carved of stone. “I wish...” He shuddered and said slowly, “I wish I’d left you alone, but I did not. What we’ve done cannot be undone, much as I wish it.” His eyes flew open, piercing her with their blue intensity. “And now... much as I loathe to... I must insist you stay.”
“And will you build a gaol for me?”
His tone was unyielding. “Nay, Jessamine, but you will, indeed, remain here. The only way back to Charlestown is by boat—my boat,” he pointed out coldly, “and everyone already knows you are to stay as my guest, willing or nay. You might make the best of it. After last eve,” he added cruelly, “what have you left to lose?”
Jessie gasped in shock and outrage. Her palm cracked furiously against his shadowed jaw. “How dare you say such a thing to me?”
He caught her wrist as she retreated. His jaw taut, he clenched his teeth, rubbing his face with his free hand. His eyes flashed with anger. “Because,” he said, his eyes narrowing, “’tis the bloody damned truth!”
Jessie tried again to slap him with her free hand, but he caught that wrist too, encircling it with fingers of steel. “Once,” he allowed, “but never again, mon amour.” His whisper was frightening in its violent intensity. Had he shouted, Jessie doubted his words would have been more ominous. “Never think to strike me again.”
Their gazes clashed, warring—Jessie refused to cow before him this time—and then he suddenly released her, pivoted about on his boot heels, and left her upon the balcony.
Chapter Twenty Three
Only when she heard the door slam behind him did Jessie re-enter the room.
He’d left the lantern beside the bed. By the light of it, she removed her cloak and slippers. She was so weary by the time she put out the lamp and climbed into the bed that her lids seemed heavy as lead.
She’d gotten so little sleep during the night, for it seemed the moment she’d managed to close her eyes, they’d been awakened again by McCarney’s knock. She didn’t like the man—could scarcely bear his presence. There was something about him... something she couldn’t quite place—aside from the fact that he was violent when he had no cause to be. Before she could contemplate it further, she drifted to sleep.
When she awoke hours later, she was alone, sunshine filtering through the windows; dust motes danced in their brilliance. She turned to peer at the far side of the bed, and reached out to touch the cold sheets. As far as she could tell, he’d not slept there. Nor had he come to her. And then she spied her trunks against the far wall. Had he brought them? Or had he sent them, instead, unable to bear the sight of her?
God’s truth, she didn’t want to think about him. Rising at once, she washed her face in the small basin of water that had been supplied for her, then dressed, spying the green silk gown that was once again spread out over a chair. So... he’d come after all.
And then had left her alone.
As she’d asked him to.
It was evident he favored that particular gown, but Jessie couldn’t quite bring herself to wear it for him. Instead, she chose a soft lavender-dyed calico with white lace peeking out at the bodice. Without her petticoats, this particular gown was far too large, but it couldn’t be helped. It didn’t matter; what need for such propriety now? She brought her hair away from her face, securing it low upon her nape with a strip of lavender ribbon. And then, feeling an overwhelming craving for fresh air, she went in search of it.
In the broad light of day, it was perfectly discernible why the house seemed imbalanced, for the right wing, for some odd reason, was still under construction. The brick walls were complete, but in place of the roof, only the framework stood, like a wooden skeleton against the greenery behind and above it.
The extensive lawn boasted only overgrown weeds and felled trees, and then closer to the riverbank, golden-tipped marsh grass swayed with the breeze. The dodder grass seemed to grow as far as the eye could see. Lord, she missed England suddenly. Nay, not her brother or his wife, for they had made her life intolerable before banishing her to this godforsaken place, but she missed the comfort to be found in her family’s ancestral home, the sprawling, manicured gardens in which she so often took refuge. There was no order to this place, no order at all, and it made her feel strangely out of sorts.
Finally, finding repose amid a small cluster of trees, upon a half-buried, half-rotten log near the marsh’s edge, she sat and, for the first time since her banishment, allowed herself to grieve for all that was lost in her life. She had lost everything, and it was all his fault—Christian, or Hawk, or whatever the devil his name was! This instant she loathed him, despised him for every shred of her lost dignity. He’d taken her greatest possession without a
single word of love, or even comfort. Her eyes blurred with tears she refused to shed. How could she have allowed it?
A flock of seagulls swooped silently toward the water in the distance, all of them flying out of formation. She watched them, curiously mesmerized by their graceful, airy dance. One sailed just above the surface of the water, so close that it seemed its flapping wings were skimming the water’s edge, and yet never did it so much as immerse a talon into the river. One bird led the flock above the trees, and the three behind made the ascent as though it were a dance they’d choreographed and rehearsed. In their wake, a small fish vaulted into the air. So quickly did it do so that by the time she turned in its direction, all that was left to show of its hasty retreat was a small circle of ripples that filtered its way past the waterlogged marsh grass and ultimately faded into nothingness.
For a long while, Jessie sat in that nothingness, hearing nothing, seeing nothing. When suddenly she heard Christian’s voice calling her, so close, she started, and nearly panicked. God’s truth, but she had no wish to see the lying cur just now! Searching about desperately, she spotted the low limb upon an enormous oak behind her, and made her way quickly toward it. The trunk itself must have measured at least twenty feet in circumference, and massive, weepy limbs stretched groundward, grazing the leafy ground as though their groaning weight were somehow too much for the poor oak to bear. Its majestic stature reminded her of a protective old grandfather, arms outstretched and bending earthward to pluck even the tiniest of insects from the perils of the forest floor. Just now, it was she in need of shielding.
Starting at the lowest point, shoving the hem of her gown between her teeth, she scrambled upward upon the thick limb until she was perched safely out of sight. She was probably behaving foolishly, she knew, but she couldn’t bear to face Christian this moment. Sheltered here, she didn’t have to worry about it. Nope, she thought somewhat flippantly, and almost giggled at the absurdity of the situation. She would simply wait until he was gone and then hurry to the house; surely there was someplace in his accursed mausoleum where she could find sanctuary?
It was only another moment before Christian found his way to the decaying old log she’d been sitting upon only an instant before. As though by instinct, he stopped there, gazing out over the expanse of river, shading his eyes with a hand. Then, as though sensing her presence, he turned, and Jessie held her breath as he scanned the area. Cursing him under her breath, she watched his movements.
Good Lord, but even now he was much too handsome for her peace of mind. His hair caught the glow of afternoon sun, making it seem lighter than it actually was. He stood there a long instant and his profile mesmerized her, with his thick, lightly whiskered jaw, and those deep-set blue eyes that could liquefy her limbs with scarcely a glance.
“Jessie!”
She bit into her lip, refusing to answer.
“Jessamine!”
Jessie remained perfectly still, unwilling to be discovered now in such an absurd place... unwilling to be caught spying, for spying, she was, whether she liked to admit it or nay. She sat there without moving, watching him search the area as he shouted her name at the top of his lungs, and the inanity of the situation struck her all at once. Good Lord, what was she worried about? Christian would never think to search a tree for her, and here she was, hanging like a chimpanzee directly above his head!
“Damn it!” he muttered to himself, coming closer. “Where the devil has she gone?”
He never even bothered to look up, and when he walked to the lower end of the very limb she was perched upon and then sat, arms crossed and deep in thought, she was suddenly giddy with the hilarity of it all. They were sitting upon the very same tree limb, yet he could have remained there an eternity and never thought to search up here for her. She couldn’t help it. For the first time in days, she felt like laughing hysterically. Lord, what if she started to cackle and fell out? Never could she bear that! Suddenly a vision of him as he’d looked when Mrs. Brown had toppled him from the fence assailed her. She tried desperately not to giggle, but her laughter burst forth.
As though unsure his ears had heard correctly, Christian slowly turned his head up, and the surprised look upon his face made Jessie giggle all the harder.
“What the devil are you doing up there?”
She couldn’t help herself, she started to laugh without restraint. She held on tightly to a small tree limb for support and resisted the urge to clutch her aching sides as she shrieked with laughter.
“Get down here!”
Overcome with glee, Jessie shook her head, refusing him, even as another bout of laughter overcame her.
“Whatever possessed you to climb up there?” His brows cocked. “Come down from there, Jess, before you fall.”
Biting her lip to keep from shrieking once more, Jessie shook her head again. “Nay,” she refused, choking on her giggles.
“For Christ’s sake, if you won’t come down,” he advised her, “I shall be forced to come up after you.” Even as he issued the warning, he was making his way up the oak branch. Yet when he reached the spot where she sat, he merely hauled himself onto the limb beside her, instead of dragging her down as she’d expected him to do.
“You had everyone worried.”
She sobered at that.
“I didn’t mean to,” she admitted, still smiling, though her eyes remained melancholy. “I simply needed to be alone.”
“You couldn’t do that safely within?”
Jessie choked on her reply. “Safe... within?”
He misunderstood her.
“I’m sorry for the disorder.”
That wasn’t what she’d been referring to, but she asked, “How can you live like that?”
“Actually, I haven’t been.” He yielded a lazy grin that sobered her completely. That smile had been her downfall once upon a time. But not this time, she swore—not if she could help it. She would not allow herself to melt like a giddy schoolgirl falling under his devil’s spell.
“It was my intent to stay in Charlestown during the construction,” he explained, reaching out and plucking a leaf. He stared at her. “Circumstances, of course, have dictated otherwise.”
She nodded knowingly. “If you’ve been inconvenienced,” she informed him at once, “’tis your own fault.”
Christian’s jaw tautened, but he said nothing in response to her accusation.
The silence between them grew awkward, but he found himself unwilling to abandon their unlikely refuge so soon. Nor could he end this bittersweet diversion as yet.
There were traces of tears in her eyes and upon her cheeks, but he attributed them to her laughter, and ignored the flash of guilt that stabbed at him.
Nor could he deny the fear that had gripped him when he’d found her gone. “Jessie,” he began, his words carefully weighed so as not to frighten her. “Do me the dubious favor of not leaving the house again—not without apprising someone of your whereabouts, whether it be Jean Paul... or even Ben,” he suggested reluctantly, raking his thumbnail over the spine of a leaf. He gazed at her with narrowed eyes as though to see into her thoughts, then sighed heavily. “So I’ll know... where to find you, if... if I need you.”
She averted her gaze. “What if I’ve no wish to be found?”
“Just give me your word,” he demanded, overlooking her flippant response. He tossed the leaf before him. “We’ve had reason to be concerned over gators here,” he lied, looking away. “ ‘Tis for your own well-being I ask this of you.” He turned again to face her. “’Tis true,” he insisted, seeing her wide-eyed expression. “We’ve a few animals missing with no sign of a carcass to be found. I should loathe that fate to be yours.”
A shiver passed down Jessie’s spine, but whether it was over his grisly disclosure, or the way he was gazing at her so solicitously, she could not discern. “And what makes you think ’tis a gator?”
His eyes held hers, unblinking. “For one... ’tis their way to haul their prey b
ack to their nest and dispose of it there, thus no carcass would be found.”
Jessie made a disgusted face. “Gruesome!” she declared, tearing her gaze away. “They are the vilest of creatures.”
He smiled ruefully. “I rather thought you believed I was the vilest of creatures?”
“Yes, well... it seems you have a rival, after all, my lord.” She cocked a brow at him, unable to reassure him, though she was tempted. “Tell me,” she said on a sigh, glancing away, then back, somehow more composed, “are they always so vicious?”
He shook his head, his eyes alight with some unnamed emotion.
Christian’s heart began to pound, for it had not escaped him that she’d managed to call him “my lord.”
“Of usual,” he said, clearing his throat, “they keep very much to themselves.”
“Really? Why not now?”
“Perhaps because their hunting ground has been overrun—or because there are too many, possibly. I dunno. Of usual, they are rather docile creatures.” He smiled, thoroughly amused over the way her brow rose at his disclosure.
“’Tis true,” he asserted, his smile deepening when she cocked her head as though considering. “In fact, I once stood so close to a gator as to be nearly standing upon its snout.” He chuckled softly at the memory, shaking his head in wonder. “It did nothing... nothing at all. In fact, the lazy beast did not so much as stir from the spot where it lay sunning. However,” he continued on a dire note, “those to be found here upon the Ashley seem more vicious than those found inland. They seem to prefer fresh water, and ’tis my guess that if they are found in these salt rivers, such as the Ashley or the Cooper, it is because they are hungry and foraging.”
Kissed; Christian Page 20
