HerOutlandishStranger

by Summer Devon

  He pulled her against him and hummed soothing noises. They sat that way, leaning into a slightly awkward embrace. He couldn’t bring himself to let go. She broke away at last. She straightened up and wrapped her arms around her herself in a hug.

  “I need to be alone,” she said softly. “No, you stay. I will go.”

  “Don’t go far,” he told her.

  She turned away and he clambered to his feet.

  “Eliza, wait.” Jazz hesitated as he picked his words so she heard only familiar language. “Listen. Please, you must listen and believe me. You were the victim of a despicable coward. He used you for his own purposes when you were completely unable to resist. You are as innocent as a newborn. I know this is a fact and you know it. No one can ever tell you otherwise. Tell me you will not do anything until you grow used to this…this situation.”

  She didn’t answer.

  The flat despair on her face made him stop her, physically this time. He stepped toward her and put a firm hand on her shoulder. In a sharp tone he said, “Tell me you will do nothing drastic, or I will not let you leave.”

  “No, of course I shan’t,” she replied monotonously. She moved away without looking back.

  He resisted following her, though he occasionally checked the CR to make sure she was in the area. After one of the longest half hours of his life, he was about to follow her trail, but just as he pulled out the CR to trace her, she returned, carrying an armful of sticks.

  He ran to her and roughly pulled her to him. The pieces of wood tumbled to the ground.

  She sagged against him then gave a tremulous laugh. “I hoped you’d still be here.”

  “Oh Eliza, what do you think I’d do? Abandon you for something that is not your fault? I told you I know that you are completely innocent. Please believe me. At least believe your own memory, or lack of it.”

  She knelt, picked up a stick and fed a piece of it to the flames. She sat down heavily on the ground, gazed at the bark as it smoked then caught fire.

  She shook her head. “I am not so innocent as you believe, Jas. You know I have tried to, ah, entice you. And since you have such remarkable powers of forgiveness, I will tell you that I had already shredded my reputation. My good name, my virtue—they were gone before I ever came to Spain with my father.”

  “No, really?” He couldn’t help sounding pleased. He cleared his throat. “Would you tell me how it happened, or is it too awful to remember?”

  She tossed another chunk of wood into the growing fire then toyed with a piece of ripped and dirty lace that hung from her sleeve. Jazz noticed she wore the same blue dress she had worn in the cave. He felt his usual stir of desire, but ignored it, concentrating his attention on her pale face. A streak of dirt lay on her fine-skinned cheek, tracing the path of a tear.

  At last she spoke. “Forgive me if my tale is not entirely lucid. I have never related the story to anyone before.

  “My father is—was—a younger son. He did not have a fortune, but he had enough to provide my sister and me with a respectable dowry. His brother, my uncle Simon, is a wealthy man and he also planned to give us a marriage portion. This changed my life and not for the better.”

  She smiled faintly. “My Uncle Simon is rather a blowhard, as his son, my cousin John, would say in his less respectful moments. You must understand that family is dear to me though I do not know if they would receive me. Ah, no. Especially now that I am…enceinte.” She raised her knees and rested her forehead on them for a moment.

  Jazz edged closer to her. He relaxed when he heard how calm she sounded as she continued. “Jane had already had her Season with my uncle and was engaged to a worthy young man. Not a duke or earl as she’d planned her whole life, but a man she loved. And he cared for her, I think.”

  A smile that had briefly touched her lips vanished. She rose to her feet and rushed the story as if she could relieve tension by talking quickly.

  “I took fairly well during my time in London. I had a cadre of admirers. One or two even wrote me the most abominable poetry. I recall an ode to my dark-lit pansy eyes that melted his soul. Oh, how my sister loved to laugh at me about my eyes that were melting candles shaped like flowers!”

  Jazz couldn’t help laughing. “Gah, and I thought some of our poets were bad. Did you at least have fun? Dancing and so on?”

  “Yes, I suppose, though I did not particularly enjoy the rush of the Season. A play, an opera, a dance, they are all agreeable entertainments. Yet day after day, with nothing else to do but be fitted for gowns and admire hats. Oh, it was too much, like a feast with too much rich food. I wanted to return home to the country a month after I had arrived. I was not Jane, who loved her Season.”

  Eliza’s face lit for a moment as she grinned at some memory. “My poor sister lived for courtship and marriage. I believe my first recollections are of her wedding games. She cast me as bridesmaid or groom to her bride in every game we played together as children. No, now I recall rare occasions when she allowed me to be the bride in her game. She was two years older than I, so naturally I longed to be with her and put up with her endless play at marriage and royalty no matter how dull I thought them.”

  The grin had vanished from her face. Eliza took a deep breath. “I digress. Though I think it will make you understand how disastrous my loss of virtue was for the people who loved me.”

  She stood near him again, her gown slightly hitched up, and he resisted the urge to wrap his hand around her ankle.

  “My uncle had spoken of us to one of his fellow club members, Brian Archer. Brian needed a wealthy wife and set out on the hunt for me. He knew I was tired of balls, and so he took me on early-morning rides in the park. He was all that is charming, pleasant and I was completely taken in. I wrote rapturous letters to Papa.”

  “My father, who even then was arranging his departure for Spain, posted at once to London to meet ‘my Mr. Archer’.

  “Papa suspected Brian was not all pleasing manners and delightful conversation and he tried to tell me his suspicions. But I had never been warned about fortune hunters—there was never any real need, you see—so I thought my father warned me only because he did not like my suitor. Uncle Simon had heard no harm of Mr. Archer, I pointed out. I thought if Brian was good enough for Uncle, he should be good enough for Papa. I conveniently forgot that Uncle Simon is a better judge of horseflesh than his fellow man.”

  Eliza plucked at the lace on her sleeve until a bit tore off. She rolled it between her fingers as she stared at the flames. “Brian must have known my father took him in dislike, but I suppose he thought that he could cozen my uncle well enough to make his fortune. And so Brian convinced me that our only hope was for me to run away with him. The plan was for us to travel to his aunt and remain with her until my father would agree to allow us to marry. I did not want to hurt my father so I refused to go to Gretna Green for a Scottish elopement. Somehow I thought this plan of fleeing to his aunt was less…drastic and hurtful.”

  Jazz heard the pain in her voice. He rubbed his hands on his knees and spoke briskly, “Well. That doesn’t sound like a bad plan to me.”

  She arched her brows and tossed the ripped lace into the fire. “No, I never planned my disgrace. But as you shall hear, I took part in it, Jas.”

  So much for comforting her. He wished he’d kept his mouth shut.

  She turned away from him and continued. “We stopped at an inn. I remember it was a pleasant little place and we were simply to rest for a few hours. I was growing more remorseful and distressed with each passing hour, and I suppose Brian had detected my flagging spirits. And so he ordered a room and took me upstairs. With his honeyed words and his—no, no that is not fair. I said I take my full share of blame. I allowed him to make love to me.”

  She rubbed her face and for the first time, looked around and into Jazz’s eyes. “It was a hot day and Brian never enjoyed bathing. You would not have liked him, I imagine.”

  “Stench sounds like the least of th
e jerk’s problems,” Jazz growled. He had to ask. “Did you enjoy…um, making love?”

  Her full mouth twitched into a brief smile. “I found him attractive and had treasured his kisses, but he didn’t kiss me very much then. Oh, it wasn’t terrible. Brian was finished within a few minutes and I remember thinking that even though I hadn’t precisely enjoyed the act, his clear fulfillment was enough for me. I had given the man I loved a precious gift and would derive my pleasure from that.”

  Jazz couldn’t help muttering an obscenity and Eliza sighed and nodded.

  “Yes, sad isn’t it, that I had the reputation as the sensible sister? Poor, sweet Jane was the sentimental girl in the family and I was called the more prudent one. In truth I was a silly creature, filled to the brim with romantic folly.”

  “You were young, Liza. Young people are supposed to be romantic. Huy, even my people know that.”

  But she didn’t appear to hear him. “Brian dressed and went downstairs, he said to bespeak our tea. He was gone a long while. It grew quite late. I wondered if some accident had befallen Brian, but the inn was a busy, noisy place and I did not like to leave the room. I had been a sheltered creature and even in the country never ventured abroad alone. I didn’t have the bravery necessary to go downstairs in a strange place alone. ”

  He couldn’t hold back his guffaw and she smiled, this time with amusement. “Yes, I am no longer that creature, am I?”

  “No, you are much stronger now, aren’t you?”

  Her eyes widened and she smiled. “You are very kind, Jas. Thank you.”

  “Welcome.” Jazz waved a hand. “I know you’re not done. Go on. Tell the rest, Liza. I think it’s good to get it out.” Says the hypocritical Mr. White.

  “After a long, long time, hours, perhaps, I gathered my courage and tiptoed down the stairs. The public rooms were filled with local men drinking and playing at dice and cards. Brian was there, merry as the rest. He had an ale in one hand and his other hand around a barmaid’s waist. ‘Sweetings, once I’m shackled to the darling moneybag upstairs’, he was telling her, ‘Perhaps I’ll renew our friendship.

  “Lord.” She sighed. “No matter how much I wish I could forget those exact words, I never shall be able to. They showed me everything I hadn’t wanted to see. At the time, I was frantically angry but managed to overcome my desire to tell him what I thought of him.”

  “I wish you hadn’t,” said Jazz. “I bet when you let rip it’s a good show. And then at least the locals would know what a jerk the man was.”

  She looked at him, a puzzled frown on her face. “They would only have known what a wanton I was. No, though I dearly wanted to face the cad, I thought it best to sneak through the kitchen to freedom. Unfortunately Brian was just visiting the convenient at that moment and saw me.”

  She dropped into silence.

  “Eh, you can’t stop now. What did he do?”

  She tossed a few sticks and a pebble into the fire and scowled at the flames. “He overcame me, then dragged me back up the stairs. He pushed me into the room and locked the door. Later he had food sent up to me as well as a note informing me that we were to stay at the inn the whole night to ensure the need for our marriage. With no reputation, he assumed I’d be forced to marry him. The note was rather long, actually. He gave me his solemn promise he would be a good and generous husband and I need not fear him, unless I went against his will in important matters.”

  “No,” Jazz interrupted. “Eliza, tell me you didn’t let him back into the room.”

  “I suppose he spent the night with the barmaid. I did not know and did not care. In the very early morning light, I noticed that a trellised vine reached up near my window. I opened the window and managed to climb down the trellis. Then I ran in my stocking feet as if a whole pack of wolves were at my heels. But there was no need to rush from the scene for the whole tawdry event had already caused harm.

  “I recall thinking the incident was the greatest of tragedies any mortal girl could endure. I sat through what felt like endless confrontations, though I could barely keep myself from writhing in shame as my uncle raved and my aunt cried at me. I felt far worse when I saw my father regarded me sadly from across the room but didn’t say a word.”

  She stood and walked in a tight, restless circle. When a twig cracked under her boot, she swooped down on the pieces and threw them, hard, at the flames. Then she came back to crouch next to Jazz, though she kept her gaze fixed on the fire.

  “Now I see the whole was nothing more than a sordid—no, farcical—event. But on that day I thought my life was over. My Season in London certainly was at an end. For a short while I considered marrying Brian.”

  Jazz gaped up at her. “No. No way. You could never have married that cretin.”

  She shrugged. “After all, he did try to mollify me with his note. And I dearly wished to cause my family as little harm as possible.”

  Jazz suddenly put out a hand to silence her. He jumped silently to his feet. A rustle in the thicket alerted him. Someone was nearby.

  He pulled his dirk from his boot and motioned Eliza to stay still. He stalked toward the sound. A shadow rippled over a tree and he froze.

  Not Steele. The phrase Liza had used occasionally came to mind. Thank God.

  A small rust-colored deer moved through the underbrush. It paused to sniff the air.

  The knife didn’t fly from Jazz’s hand. They could have used the meat, but he only stood and watched the wild animal, a ghost of the forest. He stared after the roe deer until it vanished into heart of the wood.

  Another rustle of leaves and Eliza stood next to him. “Thank you for not killing it,” she whispered. “It is so lovely, isn’t it?”

  The ache in her voice swept through him.

  When he turned and saw her smile, he pulled her into his arms and held her again.

  They walked back to the fire. It burned too high from all the wood she’d tossed on it. The smoke rose high and would draw the attention of anyone passing on the road several hundred yards away. They would have to abandon it soon.

  “Eliza. Is that the end of your story about Brian Archer?”

  Her voice was rough. “No. I lost my sister because of him. But I don’t want to talk about that. Not now.” She touched her belly and went pale. He thought she was going to faint and stood to catch her. But she backed away from him and wailed. “Oh Jas. Oh, no. This is so much more. I’m tired of this misery and now I’m going to have a baby.”

  Chapter Eight

  Eliza tried to swallow the panic, but it rose and she could not stop the words tumbling out. She clutched him as if he could keep her from drowning in fear. “But what can I do? What can I do? I must try to rid myself of it. Perhaps I can find a family who will take it. I can’t go back unwed and pregnant with the babe of some deranged stranger. I survived disgrace once, though my family did not. I am not brave enough, Jas. I cannot!”

  With her head pressed to him just below his throat, she could feel Jas swallow, but he didn’t move or speak. At last the fear and self-pity finished flooding her and an actual plan came to mind.

  She calmed her jagged breath. She dropped her arms from her fierce clutch around him and moved back to search his face. When she gazed into his stern face, she fancied that he was forcing himself not to look away from her, but still, she could not stop herself from speaking.

  “Listen. Please. I-I suppose my uncle will control my dowry. Whoever marries me will not gain a vast fortune, but I believe it is a respectable two thousand pounds. Would you marry me? Would that be enough to tempt you?”

  She interrupted herself before he could reply. ”No, oh no. I am wrong to ask it of you. You are no fortune hunter. I know you said you cannot marry me and I believe you. Forgive me. You have been so good, so kind to me. I cannot expect you to take on any more of my problems.”

  “Your problems are mine,” he said in a low voice. “It’s true. I can’t marry you. But other than marriage, whatever you want from
me, I will do. I won’t leave until I know you are safe and happy.”

  She frowned and haltingly asked, “Are you promised to another? Is that why you cannot marry?”

  He shook his head.

  Eliza bit back her next question. How could a man drop out of nowhere with no connections? She had once wondered if he was some kind of criminal. She could not believe that of him. Had he been banished from his country for some reason? He was not likely to tell her. And he had just made it clear she had no right to ask.

  They stood in awkward silence, no longer clinging, yet still touching one another, her hands on his shoulders, his at her waist.

  “Eliza,” he said softly. “We must go before the fire attracts visitors.”

  Silently they stamped out the fire before they moved on.

  For the first mile or so, they plodded in silence. Yet as they walked, she became aware that the air held the scent of spring and the sun held real heat. For the first time in weeks, despite her losses, and her knowledge of her new burden, Eliza’s heart lifted.

  Perhaps she was as demented as she occasionally thought Jas. Instead of constantly mortifying her, and causing a deep sense of shame, the thought of her pregnancy every now and again filled her to the quick with an odd, tilting joy. She explored the possibility her life in Spain had destroyed every trace of refinement in her nature.

  Could any woman of her station possibly react with anything other than fear and loathing for her circumstance? Naturally the answer was a resounding no, but she still felt secret joy. She even managed to comfort herself when she was filled with horror about the rapist who’d fathered the child. She calmed herself by recalling the dark-haired man’s gentleness—he could not be a good or honorable person, but he was not an animal. She prayed. Another jolt of fear hit her, but when it vanished, she was left again with the strange new calm.

  Jas, on the other hand, looked as desolate as she’d ever seen him. His expression seemed so somber she wondered what he could be thinking.

  She hoped his seeming acceptance of her situation was genuine and that he wasn’t truly offended by the revelation that she was breeding. She could not bring herself to ask such a question outright, but she had to know if he would abandon her because of the pregnancy.