HerOutlandishStranger

by Summer Devon

  “Huh. You should talk. Don’t you ever go away? Don’t you have better things to do with yourself?”

  “No. Not until you are gone.”

  Jazz rolled over and opened his eyes. “I’m not going to let you kill me, Steele. You saw what I did to that soldier?”

  “Yes. Truthie murderer.”

  “I’d positively enjoy doing the same to you,” Jazz lied.

  Jazz readied himself for an attack but Steele sat next to him. “Oh, I’m not going to attempt to run you through. She will suspect foul play if she finds you dead. I cannot risk it.”

  Jazz believed him and relaxed. The man shifted and suddenly Jazz felt a light touch on his wound. Jazz grabbed the other man’s wrist. Steele must have not had paid attention to his own lessons because he’d let himself be caught too easily.

  But no, the agent wore a satisfied smile. Jazz let go of his arm.

  “Too late. Now your disease will progress nicely.” He rose to his feet and stared down at Jazz. “You’ve already got an infection. This will assure the blood poisoning. Painful suffering. You should be dead within a few days, unless you go crawling back to where you belong for help. Return to the DHU. They will know how to cure a simple infection. Perhaps you might go back to where people know what kind of monster you are? Or perhaps you’d rather die here. I will make certain the baby is safe.” He tilted his head and for a second looked like the teacher he’d been when Jazz first met him. “Returning is so simple. No need for you do anything at all. You give me your print and the code and I’ll plant it here. You’ll be gone in less than a day. Back home.”

  Jazz shook his head then wished he hadn’t because it ached. “I won’t go. Not yet.”

  “Eh, then you’ll be raving and in a fever.” He walked away without another word. For a moment he turned and looked back at Jazz, smiling. The first real happiness Jazz could recall seeing on Steele’s battered face.

  As soon as the man disappeared, Jazz heaved himself up to rummage through the bag for the supplies his mother had given him. Disease. At least it wouldn’t be contagious—Steele wouldn’t risk Liza’s health. Jazz’s only hope was the stuff he’d snuck in would work.

  He’d be damned if some assassin would chase him back to his time, away from his assignment. Using his teeth, he ripped the waxy cloth covering off one of the medical vials. He drank it down quickly, grimacing at its taste. Another vial held some lotion that he awkwardly smeared over the wound. He shoved the empty vials away and firmly tucked the bag under his body. He did not want Liza going through his things should he pass out.

  *

  Liza had trouble finding clean water. Her hands trembled as she filled the skins and while shoving in the corks. In her haste, she stumbled over roots twice as she raced back to Jas.

  He lay flat on his back. His eyes were closed.

  She threw down the water and ran to him. “Jas, oh God no, Jas! I need you here with me. Come back!”

  And miraculously, he did. He opened his eyes and gave her a smile. “Just resting,” he reassured her. “I’m still here. Did you think I’d died?”

  Relief flooded her and she returned his smile. No, she had only allowed herself to consider that he was unconscious, lost to pain and fever. His death was too much to imagine.

  She fetched him the water and examined his arm.

  “No worse?” he asked.

  “It’s still puffy,” she said. “Rest and I’ll check you soon.”

  He drifted back to sleep. His sleep was restless and she winced, watching him thrash on the stony ground. She wrapped him like a mummy in a layer of her clothing and their cloaks and lay down next to him.

  Through the long day, she paced, lay or sat always watching, helpless.

  He writhed and groaned in his sleep. Liza wanted to go to him and hold him, but he had once warned her not to wake him.

  “I won’t!” He jerked up and his uninjured arm whipped out as if he would grab an unseen enemy.

  She stood a few feet away and called out. “Hush, Jas. You’re here, remember?”

  His eyes flickered open and his breathing calmed.

  “You are awake?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  She knelt down and made him drink.

  “I’ll just fetch some food.”

  “Stay out of my pack,” he growled.

  She smiled, too glad he was coherent enough to be ruffled by his bad temper. She found a bit of food in her own portmanteau and tried to feed him.

  “No. More water, please, Eliza.”

  Relief dissolved the lump in her throat. He was awake and he knew her. The delirium had not set in.

  Yet.

  *

  She didn’t mean to drift off, but she opened her eyes, confused. She’d fallen asleep and it was near dawn. Gray light shone on the still landscape and the pile of clothes next to her.

  Jas was gone.

  She scrambled to her feet and cried out, far too loud to be safe. “Where are you? Oh Jas! What has happened to you?”

  “Nothing.” He sat cross-legged nearby, carefully bending and unbending his arm as he stared down at his stick of wood in his other hand. “I’m right here,” he said, sounding surprised at her vehemence. “I felt better so I thought I’d get up for a bit.” He walked slowly over to her. “Still a bit rickety, but I’ll be fine soon.”

  Liza reached for his forehead and found it was cool to the touch.

  “You’re better,” she breathed.

  “Of course. Told you I would be.” He was completely unconcerned. “But we shouldn’t be jumping around in the middle of the night. Come on.”

  He awkwardly knelt down next to the clothes. With his uninjured arm, he tried to pull the clothes into order and Liza hurried to help. She watched him slowly lie down in the pile. “Come on, try to sleep again. You made a fantastic bed, Liza, I only hope your clothes aren’t ruined.”

  Eliza laughed, giddy with relief. “I would not care a tuppence, Jas. I’d sacrifice every garment I’ve ever owned if that’s what would make you better.”

  “Well,” he said, laughter in his voice, “too bad for me that’s not what it takes.”

  She smiled when she realized his meaning. “It is a miracle worth going naked for. Oh, when I thought I might lose you.” She threw herself down, wrapped her arms around him. “I am a regular watering pot,” she snuffled into his chest. “But I cannot help it. I thought I would lose you.” He rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head.

  “No, no.” He sounded hoarse. “I won’t leave, but I, er, I think I need to sleep again.” She understood and inched away from him. He turned carefully over and she pushed against his back again, holding him as tightly as she could. She was surprised to feel a rumble of laughter shake through him.

  “Liza, I promise not to drift away. I do not need an anchor. Though if I did, I’d pick you for the job.”

  She smiled, still too filled with gladness for jesting. His swift recovery was miracle indeed, she thought as she forced her jangling nerves to relax. Or perhaps his mother was a healer with magical powers. He had been so casual about the infection, as if it were truly nothing to fear.

  For once she didn’t care that he appeared strange to her. Indeed, this time the peculiarity of his country managed to save the one thing left on earth that she cared about. She had not understood how much she’d needed him until she thought she might lose him. As she matched her breathing to his, she considered that perhaps the strangest magic was the love she discovered in the midst of the destruction of her life and world.

  When she next woke, Jas lay next to her, sprawled across the pile of clothes on his back. She moved closer to him and his eyes opened instantly, but he did not stand. Instead he turned onto his side to face her. Delighted, she wiggled closer. His breath hitched. Eliza knew it wasn’t pain that caused a small groan. Slowly, to be careful of his injured arm, she slid upward and without a word, certainly not to ask permission, she found his mouth with her own.
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br />   The kiss shocked her, almost literally. This is what they mean by sparking, came her hazy thought. She felt no surprise that his lips were warm and welcoming, felt so perfect, or that they tasted like sweet water to a woman dying of thirst. It was the strength of the heat between them that filled her with incredulity.

  She gasped his name as she pulled away for a second. In the weak light of dawn, she examined his face. Good, she was not the only one drugged by that kiss. She did not imagine the half-stunned yet greedy look she saw. She closed her eyes for a moment and smiled as she felt the soft brush of his beard as he moved his face against hers. His lips met hers again and her insides twisted, each touch another clap of heat.

  He kissed her again, now lips and tongue on hers, kissing as if their lives depended upon it. Then he threw his head back as if he were trying to stop himself. Fine. She ran the tip of her tongue across the base of his throat where his pulse beat fast. She tasted sweat, dust and sweet skin. Delicious. She lifted her head to look down into his face.

  “Are you truly better?” she asked timidly, breathlessly, as she paused at the curve where his neck and shoulder met. She traced the line of his collarbone with a finger.

  He caught her hand and slowly kissed each finger. Eliza thought her chest would burst when she felt the warm touch of his mouth with each tiny kiss. He looked down at her. “I’m fine. I was thinking of my dream. It was about you.”

  “A good dream?”

  He watched her with glowing eyes. “I’ve never had better.”

  He pulled her close. She grew confident and instinctively put her leg over his hip to press as much of herself to him as she could. The hunger in his kiss, the sensation of his body aroused and solid against hers overwhelmed her.

  Her breasts, already heavier and more sensitive to touch, prickled with the almost painful stimulation, the slight chafing though layers of cloth, as they rubbed his hard chest.

  She traced her hands over the muscles of his back and squirmed closer. He flinched and groaned. And she realized his arm under her rib cage, supporting her and holding her against him, was the wounded one. She immediately shifted away and whispered, “Your arm, Jas. When you would not allow me to cup you. I worry that the wound will fester and—”

  “Ahh. Damn. I forgot. I almost forgot.” His muffled cry sounded of frustration rather than pain, so Eliza was startled when he suddenly pulled back. Their bodies no longer touched and she knew he was going to leave her. She felt deprived and slightly ridiculous, left writhing and gasping like a blind pup whose mother got up and strolled away mid-meal.

  “What did you forget?”

  But he covered his face with his hands, pressed his palms into his eyes, and did not answer.

  She could have hit herself for distracting him from their exquisite, important pleasure. She could have hit him, and harder, when he pulled himself into a sitting position to jabber meaninglessly at her. “Eliza, no, my arm. It’s not really hurt now. That’s what reminded… This can’t be right. I apologize,” he said, still slightly out of breath. “You. You cannot—”

  Eliza sat up too. “You should indeed beg my pardon for stopping when we were so…comfortable.”

  He smiled, a lopsided grin. “It was comfortable, yes. Better than that. But, Eliza—”

  “You won’t marry me, I know. I know. But I want comfort, Jas. I thought you were dying.” She scooted close to him. “Can you just hold me?”

  “Do you think that’s all we’d do? I don’t. I want you so much I can barely think of anything else.”

  How could mere words send her into such a dizzying rush? “I also think of-of you almost constantly. Don’t you see? We need to get past this, ah, tension.”

  He raised her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to her palm. “I doubt we shall get past it. Once you have a taste of something, it becomes addictive.”

  “Let me find out. After all.” She put her arms around him and burrowed against his warm neck. “I am enceinte so the worst has already happened to me.”

  “No, she will be the best, part of the best,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. She lifted her head to say something, but Jas put two fingers under her chin. He tilted her face up so he could kiss her. She melted into the kiss and, grateful for his acceptance of the baby, didn’t bother to ask why he was so sure the baby would be a girl.

  He brushed the pad of his thumb over her mouth. “Will you forgive us for this? For whatever we do?”

  She turned her head and bit at his thumb. “I will not forgive you if you don’t kiss me again.”

  He moaned and pulled her close, clutching her as if she were trying to get away or he was drowning. And yet a moment after he desperately yanked her into his arms, Jas’ touch changed. His every motion grew careful, too tentative. Eliza wanted more. She was reminded of how she longed to gobble her food when she felt hunger and understood he held back for her. Sometimes it does not do to be a lady, she thought. “I want you,” she breathed greedily.

  He sank down to the pile of cloth then, pulling her with him.

  She ignored the stones on the ground, too intent on moving against him, touching and kissing him, as demanding as he’d been a few moments earlier. Within seconds she was almost overwhelmed in the blaze she’d sparked in them both.

  The way he pushed up her skirts and touched her seemed practiced and sure. For a fleeting moment she wondered how many women he’d made love to for he certainly knew how to find the slits in her drawers and what parts of her body to touch. A flick of a few of her buttons and oh, God, his fingers were rubbing her bare skin, and more. His hand cupped her for a moment as if claiming her mound of Venus as his. Then his finger found her opening. She pushed against his hand, and used her own hands to pull his head to her for kisses.

  The exquisite excitement was almost terrifying. She ran hands over his shoulders and arms, avoiding his injury, but curiosity and need demanded she touch as much of him as she could. Trembling, she reached for the swelling at the front of his trousers and brazenly opened the buttons. Though she did not reach for his bare flesh, she traced the shape of him, the thick, impossibly hard shaft. Rather too large, she thought with a sudden qualm.

  At that instant, he rolled onto her so the heavy bulge pressed between her legs. He rested most of his weight on his arms, even his injured arm.

  He lay in the cradle formed by her legs, his member against her own swollen, aching feminine parts. She closed her eyes, waiting for the pain she knew would come but needing it now.

  This is what happened. A woman lost her virginity and then afterward, apparently, she longed for the brutal pain. But no, when he reached between them, fumbling with the cloth and then himself, she gasped at the first touch of his member to her flesh, for there was no pain. Only the lovely throbbing tension increasing. He didn’t plunge in. Instead he rubbed the thick head of himself just as he’d used his fingers and then at last, there was more pressure, easing. Almost too slow.

  She was close to frantic now, needed so much for that empty space to be filled with him. With Jas. She clutched at his back and wriggled under him, impatient for more, ready at last. More of him. She wanted all of him naked, she would not get that. They wore so many clothes. She wanted all of him in her, touching her, now.

  Now. She groaned. And then sucked in air when he surged forward and gave her what she begged for.

  There was the burning she remembered from Brian, though this wasn’t as painful and was more of an ache that was replaced by a lovely fullness that might have been too strong if he hadn’t created the need inside her but, oh, he had and she was ready to burst around him. The pull of him stroked deep inside her. He growled against her neck and he was moving. Pushing into her, still caressing the part of her that tingled at his touch, kissing her breasts, or kneading her bum, his hands and mouth worked even as he pumped into her, a familiar action but an entirely new and earth-shattering rendition. She wished the layers of clothing between them would vanish and anywhere
their skin touched, she felt his warmth directly.

  The heady lust grew in her, she moved restlessly looking for completion. Her world shrank. Only the man inside her mattered. Ah, what he did to her body. The moment came as a shock. The huge waves of pleasure made her cry out in surprise. Jas moaned and throbbed deep inside her. She wrapped her arms around him.

  Far more vivid than the man in the cave, thank God. The way he stared down at her, and kissed her and watched her in the moment. It erased the strange numb feeling brought on by memories of the stranger in that cave. God, afterward the insides of her thighs ached in a familiar manner. But her heart was filled with an almost vicious joy. Possessive too. She’d won the battle and gotten him.

  They had barely started before they were finished—but this was nothing like the episode with Brian. Powerful, fast and violent, this was the thunderstorm after too many days of parching heat.

  No matter what he might claim in the future, she knew the truth. At long last he had shown her lust—and much more—as they’d lain together.

  Chapter Eleven

  When they rose from the bed, his manner was quiet, almost subdued. Alas, she’d been as much of a wanton as her aunt had always implied and he knew the worst of her unladylike—

  “Eliza,” he interrupted her self-reproach as he helped her put away the clothes. “Your cheeks are red and you’re biting your lip. Are you regretting what we did?”

  She looked up then, met his eyes. “No.”

  “Good. I’m the one who should feel guilt. But I won’t.” He spoke in a new forceful, passionate manner she hadn’t heard in him before.

  She wasn’t sure she believed him, but felt grateful for his words. Perhaps his mood was odd because his arm ached, though he didn’t seem to favor it.

  With a sigh, she fell in step behind him. The subject was closed. She had said she wanted him to take her because she wanted to be able to think about something other than desire. Unfortunately that episode only seemed to increase her longing for his touch. Now when she caught sight of his strong back, or thought of his fingers inside her, the response of weakness and longing threatened to overwhelm her.