Jaded Moon (Ransomed Jewels Book 2)

by Laura Landon

  Ross placed his arm around her shoulder and brought her close to him. She went willingly, then with a heavy sigh, she laid her head against him. He didn’t move, was afraid to move for fear he’d break the spell. Finally, she broke the silence.

  “Give up the cattle venture.”

  “I can’t.”

  She stiffened, then pulled away from him. “I have to go to the children,” she said, rising to her feet. “I’ve been gone too much lately.”

  Ross rose with her and offered her his arm. “I’ll take you then. I’ve got my carriage outside.”

  She started to walk away. “That’s not necessary.”

  “I know, but I’d like to.”

  He walked with her across the terrace and back into the house, hoping she’d trust him enough to confide in him. But she kept her silence until they entered the drawing room. Then, a small gasp of surprise echoed through the room and her hands closed over her open mouth.

  Two huge bouquets of hothouse flowers sat on tables on either side of the settee, their fragrance filling the room.

  “Servants from Lindville Grange brought these, for you, miss.” Banks said carrying in a third. “There’s a note attached to this one.” He brought the flowers over so she could take the note.

  She stared at the piece of folded paper nestled between the blooms of the flowers but she didn’t take it.

  Banks didn’t set the third bouquet down but held it in front of her. “Would you like me to have them wait for a reply?”

  The fingers clasping his arm had tightened almost painfully and when Ross looked at her, the little color she’d had when he’d arrived was gone, leaving her as pale as the white orchids in the vases.

  He put his hand over hers. “Josephine? Would you like to read it?”

  “No,” she said, clasping his arm even tighter. “Send them back, Banks. Have the servants take them back.”

  “Are you sure, miss?”

  “Yes. Take them back!”

  Her fingers still gripped his arm, wadding the material in her fist until it was a mass of wrinkles. Banks left with the first vase of flowers then came back for the second before she moved. The breath left her body in a rush.

  She swallowed hard, then looked down at the material clenched in her fist. She released her hold of him. “I’m sorry. That was silly of me.”

  “Would you like to sit down for a while?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Why would Lindville send you flowers?”

  “He didn’t.”

  “Josephine, don’t lie to me. Why?”

  She jerked her head up, her eyes filled with an expression he was positive he had misinterpreted. “Lord Lindville sent the flowers as a joke. They didn’t mean anything.”

  She watched as Banks returned for the third vase.

  “Are you ready?” she asked, her chin high and her shoulders back. “To take me to the orphanage?”

  “Of course,” he said, and followed her from the room.

  He had no idea what the flowers meant, but whatever it was, their arrival had frightened her to death.

  Jaded Moon

  by Laura Landon

  Ransomed Jewels Series Book Two

  CHAPTER 15

  Another rumble of thunder echoed in the distance, but Josie didn’t slow down. If anything, she walked faster. She was desperate to come up with a plan to discourage Lindville. But no matter how fast she walked or how far, the same overwhelming fear suffocated her when she thought of how determined he was to get his hands on Clythebrook Estate. Why else would he consider marrying her?

  It was well after midnight. The moon had been out and the sky clear when she’d left the manor house. But that had been hours ago. Since then, clouds had filtered in until there was a heavy covering that concealed the stars. It was black now with nothing but shadows and an occasional clap of thunder to intrude upon her thoughts.

  How could he even consider such a preposterous scheme? Surely the land above the caves wasn’t worth so much he’d consider marrying her to get it. He knew the circumstances of her birth. Yet the scathing message she’d received after she’d returned the flowers was closer to a threat than a suitor’s proposal.

  For the first time, Josie sensed the lurking of a danger even more frightening than she’d felt after Rainforth had been shot.

  She made her way across the meadow, then down a shallow ravine and up again. She didn’t stop until she reached the edge of the cliff overlooking the caves, then pulled her woolen cloak tighter and let the wind whip around her.

  She couldn’t do it. Even if marrying him were the only way to save the children, she couldn’t do it. She’d always known she would never marry. From the day she’d escaped the abuse she’d suffered at Foster’s hand, she’d known she would never be a bride. But now, Geoffrey Lindville thought he could force her by threatening Lady Clythebrook and the children.

  She hadn’t taken him seriously at first. Why should she? The very idea of a baron marrying a bastard was unthinkable. Yet, that was what he was proposing and he was becoming more insistent every day.

  Yesterday he’d come to the orphanage to see her and she’d barely escaped him before he could corner her again. But he’d left a note for her. A note that made his threats terrifyingly real.

  Josie looked down onto the cove where the boats brought their supplies ashore. She couldn’t believe the money was so important to him. The amount wasn’t that substantial.

  The first raindrop hit her cheek and she wiped it away with her fingertips. Another drop struck her face. She reached up to wipe at it but froze when the grass rustled behind her. She spun around, fearful it would be Lindville. She nearly cried out in relief when the Marquess of Rainforth came toward her.

  “Josephine?”

  She grabbed her hand to her chest and waited for her heart to stop pounding. “Don’t ever do that to me again. You scared me half to death.”

  “Seeing you standing out here in the middle of the night didn’t exactly calm my nerves either,” he said, coming closer to her. “Step away from there.”

  She looked out over the edge. “Are you afraid I’m preparing to jump?”

  He laughed. “No. Jumping isn’t your style. You’re more the stand-and-fight type. I just wonder who it is you’re getting ready to fight.”

  “Are you worried it’s you?”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  He reached out and pulled her from the edge, then brushed away a drop of rain from her cheek. He didn’t step away from her or remove his hand, but cupped his palm against the side of her face. His touch was gentle and emitted a strength she needed badly right now.

  She looked him in the eyes, their gazes locked in a heated blaze that sent currents rippling through her chest. Standing this close to him always did this to her—stole her breath and caused a cascading waterfall to plummet to the pit of her stomach.

  It was raining harder, not a downpour, but coming steadily enough that her pelisse was showing water spots. She didn’t care. Rain always made her feel good—clean. He brushed another drop from the tip of her nose.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered, then wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck and pulled her toward him. She went willingly.

  Raindrops fell, but she didn’t notice. He placed a finger beneath her chin and tipped her face upward. He was going to kiss her and she was going to let him.

  She closed her eyes and waited.

  His mouth came down on hers, his lips firm and warm, his need vibrantly demanding. How could one man’s kiss be so different from another’s? How could one man’s touch be something she craved, while another man’s so repugnant to her? She leaned into him until no space separated them.

  There were no words that needed to be spoken, no permission to be granted. The understanding between them was mutual. They’d both realized that a force far stronger than either of them could control had brought them to this point. A primal need she’d a
lways been able to stamp down with ingrained mental discipline raged within her and demanded to be satisfied. Just this once, she thought with an ache that burned deep inside her, she didn’t want to deny the needs growing within her. She wanted to replace all her nightmares with one night of passion. She wanted his face to be the one she saw when she remembered. She touched his cheek. “We need to find shelter.”

  He placed his hand atop hers and looked down at her. “You need to go home.”

  His face was wet now. Drops of rain spiked his lashes and made them seem darker. “Granny’s cottage is just ahead. We can go there.”

  “You won’t be safe with me there. You’re barely safe with me out here in the rain.”

  “I don’t want to be safe. I want to be loved. Just this once.”

  Josie didn’t know where the words had come from or what person had spoken them. It wasn’t the Josephine Foley she’d known all her life. This was a stranger. The Josie she’d been just yesterday was watching from a distance while this outsider found the courage to ask for something she’d been craving her whole life.

  “Please.”

  “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

  “Come,” she said, taking his hand and guiding him.

  He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and walked with her into the woods. Twice he stopped to kiss her. Once she stopped to kiss him. Rain poured down now and they ran the last steps into the same cottage where they’d spent time together while he healed.

  He tossed his wet jacket over one of the chairs, then unfastened her pelisse and laid it over the other chair. “Let me light a fire.”

  “No light. Just the darkness and the rain.”

  He ground his mouth against hers again, demanding what she’d never dreamed she’d be able to give to any man. His mouth opened and he gently urged hers to do the same. The second her lips parted for him, he entered her mouth.

  His tongue searched and found its mate. He moaned a sound she caught and would not release, then he tilted his head and deepened his kiss.

  Their clothes were damp and more difficult to remove than if they’d been dry, but he seemed to accomplish the task with little difficulty. His mouth stayed on her—on her mouth, her cheeks, her neck, her shoulders. She didn’t simply allow it, she encouraged it. When he moved his kisses upward to recapture her mouth, she threaded her fingers into his hair and pushed him lower, offering herself to him.

  She was naked when she climbed beneath the covers and waited with a racing pulse while he undressed. She didn’t know if it was normal for a woman to help the man remove his clothes, but she couldn’t have done it even if it was. She wasn’t that brave.

  The mattress sagged when he knelt beside her and she opened her arms to him. Not because he needed the invitation but because she wanted to hold him. He came down over her and touched her, flesh to flesh, warmth to warmth, desire to desire.

  She should have been embarrassed. She should have been self-conscious and shy and remote, but she wasn’t. The darkness helped but that wasn’t the reason she felt no embarrassment. It was him. How could she regret something she’d waited her whole life to experience?

  He kissed her again, his kiss deep and hungry and filled with need. And while his mouth drank from hers, his hands moved over her, touching and kneading and caressing. He nestled himself over her and looked into her eyes.

  Oh, she loved him. Even though she’d fought the emotions from the day she’d met him, she loved him with every fiber of her being. She cupped her hands on either side of his face and brought his mouth down for a kiss.

  “Teach me,” she whispered when he lifted his mouth. He kissed her again lightly in answer.

  “There will be pain,” he said before he took her, but she knew there would not. There was only pain the first time.

  He was a gentle lover, careful not to hurt her. He came into her slowly as if anticipating the barrier he knew he should find. When he met no resistance, he embedded himself fully.

  The ritual was as primitive as life itself and she met every thrust with a growing need and passion. The end, when it came, was as powerful and beautiful as she knew it would be. He’d taken her to a place she’d never known existed and when she leaped off that very high ledge into the unknown, he’d been there with her.

  Then, with a loud moan, he stiffened atop her and found his release.

  She clung to him, holding him tightly as if she’d never have to let him go, but she knew she would. When this night was over, there would be no others. She was taking a huge enough risk making love with him once. She wouldn’t risk it again.

  She held him close to her, running her fingers over his sweat-dampened flesh. His skin was firm and taut and his muscles rippled beneath her touch. He was perfect and for just these few moments he was hers.

  “Are you all right?”

  She smiled. “Yes. Perfect.”

  He rolled off her but took her with him. With a contented sigh, she nestled her head in the crook of his neck and listened to his heart thunder beneath her ear. Her heart matched his rapid beating and she snuggled closer when he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and brought her nearer.

  Neither of them spoke for several minutes and she waited, not wanting to be the first to break the silence. He finally ended the reverie.

  “Who was he?”

  At first Josie didn’t comprehend what he’d meant. For several long seconds it didn’t register that his tone contained an accusatory note or that the way he held her had changed. The difference was minute and if her senses hadn’t been heightened as a result of what they’d just shared, she probably wouldn’t have noticed. There was still a tenderness in his touch—a gentleness, but there was also a stiffness that separated him from her, an aloofness that made him a stranger to her.

  “Who?” she asked, but knew what he meant.

  “The man you gave yourself to first. Or should I be speaking in the present? The man to whom you are still giving yourself?”

  Josie felt the air suck out of her lungs and freeze.

  “Is it Lindville?”

  “No.”

  “He sent you flowers.”

  She tried to ease away from him but he wouldn’t let her. She tried again but gave up when he made it impossible. “The flowers didn’t mean anything.”

  His chest rumbled beneath her ear. He was laughing.

  “The man must have emptied out every hothouse between here and London. Those were orchids you sent back to him. Was it a lover’s spat?”

  She jerked out of his arms and this time he let her go. She grabbed one of the loose covers from the bed and wrapped it around her. She suddenly felt very self-conscious, even in the darkness.

  Her clothes lay on the floor. She snatched them up and quickly slipped into them. From the sounds she heard from the other side of the room, he was dressing too. She was glad the room was dark. She didn’t want to see the accusatory expression on his face. Or the revulsion in his eyes.

  As she fastened the last of the buttons up the front of her gown, the room glowed from a candle he’d placed in the center of the table. Before long, a fire raged in the hearth.

  A welcome warmth sifted through Granny’s cottage. But it didn’t reach deep inside her to the block of ice lodged in her chest.

  She’d been such a fool. She’d hoped he wouldn’t notice that he wasn’t the first one to have her and if he did that it wouldn’t matter. The fact that he thought he had the right to throw her past in her face only made her angry.

  Without a by-your-leave, she grabbed her pelisse from the chair and walked to the door. His hand shot out against the door so she couldn’t open it.

  “It’s still pouring out there. You can’t leave.”

  “I’ve walked through the rain before. It’s preferable to being in here.”

  She tried to open the door again and this time he stood in front of it. Moving him was impossible and rather than fight a losing battle, she turned back. She pushed out the coat
tree Granny kept in the corner and hung her wrap over it so the fire would dry it. A shiver raced through her when she heard him step up behind her.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Tell you what?”

  “That you weren’t a virgin.”

  “Why should I have? Whether you were the first or the one hundred and first is no one’s concern but my own.”

  The look he gave her said that what he felt reached far beyond anger. Revealed in the depths of his steel-gray eyes were other emotions she didn’t want to acknowledge, the most obvious of which were disappointment and regret. Josie felt another jolt of her temper and she clenched her hands into tight fists at her side.

  “You expected to be the first man to have me and you feel angry and betrayed to discover you weren’t.” She took another step toward him and leveled him with every defensive instinct battling within her. “You don’t have the right to be angry. You don’t have the right to be anything.”

  “Don’t I? We just made love. Perhaps that doesn’t mean much to you, but it does to me.”

  Josie felt like she’d been slapped. Before she could recover he fired his next question.

  “What is your connection to Geoffrey Lindville?”

  “There is no connection between us. We’re neighbors. That’s the only connection between us.”

  “When I went to the orphanage yesterday, Mrs. Lambert told me Baron Lindville had been asking for you, too. When I arrived at your house today, Banks said Baron Lindville had been there earlier but you hadn’t been home to him. His eagerness to see you on top of all the flowers must mean something. Why would he go to all that trouble if there is no connection?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then perhaps you know why he is so adamantly opposed to the cattle venture. Every other man at the dinner Lady Clythebrook hosted endorsed my idea—except Lindville. And his land is not even involved in the venture. Why do you think he’s pursuing you?”