by Jo Goodman
You'll have to win her confidence.
Why would I want to do that? I want to strangle her.
Choices, choices, mocked the inner voice.
Beginning to fear for his sanity, Noah stopped the dialogue going on in his head. He could go back to the cabin and confront Jessa with the truth—and Noah knew he had some part of the truth now—but what would it serve? Everything she had done, every lie she had told, had but one purpose: to keep Gideon at her side. But why? Who was the child to her? It seemed certain to Noah that the infant was no kin. She could have easily explained he was a brother or a cousin, yet she had maintained her deception as a grieving widow even after Noah had learned of her role in the post road robbery. It was very important to her that he believe she was Gideon's mother.
Oh, God! What if her tale about the asylum were based on some fact? Was she mad? Did she think Gideon was in fact her son? Had she stolen him?
Something about that last thought niggled at the back of Noah's mind, but he could not bring it to the forefront or make any sense of it. Neither could he believe that Jessa was mad. Whatever she was doing, Noah was forced to conclude that she was in some way trying to protect Gideon.
Protect. It was an odd word to use, he thought. Why should the child need Jessa's protection?
Noah realized he still had many more questions than answers, but a few things were clearer than others. Jessa was not insane. Discounting her role in the robbery, neither was she a criminal. She was not capable of doing anything with real criminal intent. But that didn't mean what she was doing was entirely within the law. Noah would stake his reputation on the fact that she was involved in something far more serious—and potentially dangerous—than she had ever let on. That being the case, how was he supposed to wash his hands of her? He could not avoid the painful truth that he was an accessory to whatever it was she was doing. After all, he had brought her here. Damn her for the lying jade that she was! She had forced him into this untenable position. In order to protect himself, his name, and his career, he would have to honor the marriage longer than he wanted. It was the only course left open to him. Divorce or an annulment meant that she could testify against him. If she were caught at whatever clever game she was playing, Noah had no doubt that she would be vindictive enough to revenge herself on him.
His decision made, Noah pushed away from the mizzenmast and stood up. If gaining her trust was the only way he could learn the whole of the truth from her lips, then he would do it. But to hedge his bets, he would write to Drew Goodfellow immediately and ask him to find out what he could. Mary Shaw could prove to be a valuable source of information. Noah realized that a reply would be months in coming; the letter couldn't even be sent until he reached Virginia and put it on a packet bound for England. Still, he would feel better having composed it. Perhaps it would put his own thoughts in order and help him decide how best to deal with Jessa. She was using him, relying on the protection of his name for herself and for Gideon, and Noah took strong, violent exception to that. He was neither so generous nor forgiving to have decided she shouldn't suffer for her deceit.
She had also carried her lies into their bed. She had purposely called him Robert to keep her secret—and her virginity—intact Of all the things she had said or done, that trifling lie still stung the most.
He might have to gain her trust in order to find out what she'd done, but he'd be damned if she'd close this new trap about him without feeling the bite of it herself.
Chapter 8
Noah didn't return to his cabin until Cam told him the table was laid for dinner. He didn't think he could trust himself to deal with Jessa before then. As he had written the letter to Drew, he alternated between wanting to flay Jessa alive and simply wanting her. It bothered him more than a little that he could still be attracted to her when she had done nothing but use him for her personal fool since their first meeting, and attraction was a paltry word to describe what it was he felt. Intrigue. Desire. Hunger. All morning and afternoon those emotions had warred with his sense of pride, making him bitter, resentful, and fiercely angry by turns. He had managed at last to quell the powerful and unsatisfying emotions because he could not face Jessa if he didn't. The thought of facing her now that he was privy to secrets she had no idea she had revealed brought Noah a curious sort of pleasure that he was not about to deny.
Noah had to cool his heels in the companionway until Jessa answered his knock at the door. As she stepped aside to let him enter his first thought was that she had no right to look so beautiful. She was wearing a deep blue satin gown that did remarkable things for her eyes, lending their normally pale gray color a luminous sapphire hue. Her fine silky hair was secured by a dark ribbon at her nape, but a delicate fringe of gold and silver brushed her forehead and temples and curled at her ears. Her hair was a splendid gilt frame; her face, an inspired portrait.
Noah's eyes drifted to the soft and tremulous lips that parted in a sweet smile of greeting. God help him, but he wanted to kiss that mouth.
So he did.
His lips lingered over hers, sipping, tasting. He kissed the corners of her mouth, ran his tongue along the sensitive underside of Jessa's upper lip. Her tiny gasp was an invitation. Noah's tongue slipped inside her mouth and began a deliciously languid battle with hers. As the kiss deepened, the rhythm of his stroking changed, becoming sensual, measured thrusts that were meant to remind Jess of a joining more intimate than their mouths. He felt the rise of heat in her body, then his own.
Noah straightened, curving his hands around Jessa's waist and lifting her slightly. She stood on tiptoes, her weight supported by the hard length of Noah's body. Her fingers curled in the material of his shirt, clutching it for purchase so she wouldn't have to break the kiss.
As soon as Noah felt the fullness of Jessa's abandoned response he began to draw back, lifting his head so that his mouth hovered above hers, then brushing his lips across hers, sipping once more, tasting the sweet nectar of her moist lips. He set her down gently and felt her fingers slowly open in the folds of his shirt. Her eyes were as wide and wary as a startled fawn's, but they shimmered with the pale colors of a spring rain. For a moment her palms lay flat against his chest, then she seemed to remember herself and her hands fluttered uneasily to her sides just as Noah's dropped away from her waist.
Jessa looked away, uncomfortable beneath Noah's steady, narrow regard. His expression was reserved, shuttered, giving nothing of his thoughts away. "Your... our dinner is getting cold," she said, glancing at the table.
Noah was angry—and aroused—and angry because he was aroused. He did not want to want her. He wanted to enjoy her, use her, command her trust and then command her body as payment for his protection, but he did not want to desire her. When Noah answered he managed to keep both anger and arousal out of his voice. "I'll join you in a moment. I want to wash first." He brushed past her and went to the basin. "Where's Gideon?" he asked, dipping his hands into the cool water and splashing his face.
"Under the table."
Noah looked past his reflection in the mirror and saw the infant was gnawing on a chair leg. Gideon, at least, could make him smile and mean it. "It looks as if he's starting dinner without us."
"Oh, Gideon!" Jessa said, dismayed. She got down on her hands and knees and pulled the infant out scolding him all the while. "He's absolutely ruined the furniture, Noah. I had no idea four tiny teeth could do so much damage!"
Noah forced a small laugh because he thought it was expected and joined her at the table. He held out a chair for her and then seated himself. "Don't worry about it. I doubt all those marks are Gideon's. Don't forget that Salem's children have occupied this cabin before." He lifted the cover on their main course and groaned. "Rice and animals again."
"What?"
"Rice and animals," he said, pointing to the platter. "That's what we called this meal during the war. Sometimes we only had rice. But occasionally, if we were fortunate, there'd be bits of meat in it." He smiled c
rookedly. "Except no one really knew, or wanted to know, what kind of meat So... rice and animals."
Jessa made a face. "I think I've lost my appetite," she said, leaning forward to inspect the tiny pieces of meat mixed with the brown rice.
Noah spooned a large serving onto her plate anyway. "It's salt pork, Jessa," he said.
"You're certain?"
"Absolutely."
"All right, but you've given me more than I can eat."
"Eat what you can," he said, letting his eyes slowly drift over her face, her shoulders, then her breasts. "I'm very aware that you're neither underfed nor undernourished."
Color tinged Jessa's cheeks. She averted her head and began feeding Gideon his milky rice soup while Noah filled her wineglass and then his own. Gideon smacked his lips, carried on a cheerful, incomprehensible monologue, and kept trying to grab the spoon as Jessa fed him.
"Do you know," Noah said thoughtfully, casually, "he really doesn't resemble you. Does he take after his father?"
Jessa nearly dropped the spoon. Gideon sputtered when she missed his mouth and she quickly wiped his chin, composing herself. Where had that question come from? And why hadn't she thought to prepare for it? "Mm-hmm. He has his father's features," she said, thinking of Kenyon Penberthy. "Dark hair and blue eyes. And the eyebrows. See how they're slightly winged? Those are his father's brows. Devilish, don't you think?"
Noah made no comment on Jessa's faltering, though he had observed it. He accepted her answer at face value. "Indeed. Though Gideon's more of an imp than a devil." He leaned across the table and tapped the infant's chin with his forefinger. "Aren't you?" Gideon laughed gaily and his head bobbed up and down as if in agreement. "And your husband," Noah asked, "was he something of a devil?"
Wishing that Noah would be done with this subject Jessa concentrated on keeping her voice even. Thinking of Kenyon again, she replied, "No, not really. He was even tempered." Not like you, she added to herself. "He was conscious of his position and its responsibilities."
"I see," he said in a flat tone. "How old was he when he died?"
Jessa began feeding Gideon again. "Twenty-seven." She frantically searched for a way to turn the conversation and realized he had given her a lead. "How old are you?"
Noah laughed shortly. "Odd, isn't it? We truly know so little about each another. I'm thirty-three—no, thirty-four. I had a birthday recently."
"How recently?"
"Since we've been on board," he told her. "April sixteenth."
"But you didn't say a word!"
He shrugged. The matter was of complete indifference to him. Before he was privy to Jessa's latest intrigue he might have been flattered by her interest. Now he saw it for what it was: another example of her cunning. She only pretended interest. It was all part of the trap. "Does it bother you that I'm so much older than your husband was?"
Jessa blinked, startled by his question. "I never thought about it I'm not so very young myself. I'll be twenty-two in August."
"So old," he mocked. He pointed to her plate. "Eat something, Jessa."
She set down Gideon's spoon and picked up her fork. "Yes, Papa," she said dryly.
"Very amusing." He pushed away his empty plate and slid Gideon's bowl in front of him. "Here, let me finish feeding Gideon." He took the boy off her lap without waiting for her reply. "He's getting heavy," he said, bouncing Gideon on his knee. "You shouldn't carry him around on your hip anymore. You'll set your back out of place."
Since he spoke as if he knew what he was talking about, Jessa acquiesced. She was touched that he noticed things like that and cared enough to say something. Although she pretended concentration on her food, Jessa saw everything that Noah did with Gideon. He was enormously gentle with the child but not in the least uncomfortable. Cradled as he was in Noah's arm, Gideon was secure and content. Noah coaxed and teased but didn't coddle. "You're fond of him, aren't you?" she asked.
"Gideon? I'm more than fond of him." That was true and Noah had no trouble admitting it aloud. He was not so bitter that he held the child at fault for Jessa's plotting. "Did you doubt it?"
Jessa shook her head. "Not many people would take the interest you do in another man's son."
But whose son? Noah wondered. He bit back the question with difficulty. Go carefully, he told himself. He shouldn't rush his fences. There was time to learn the truth and ways to do it that would not raise Jessa's suspicions. "I wouldn't have brought you with me if I hadn't wanted to help Gideon," he said stiffly.
"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I didn't mean..."
Noah waved her apology aside. "Clearly you love him above all others."
"Yes. I love him." But above all others? She wondered if that were still true. It had to be, she thought. The alternative did not bear scrutiny. Jessa's fingers trembled. She picked up her glass in both hands and sipped the sweet wine, a faintly troubled look in her eyes.
"Jessa?" Noah covered the top of Jessa's wineglass with his hand. He gently pushed downward so that Jessa was forced to set it on the table again. "Is something wrong?"
"What?" Jessa realized that after one sip of the wine she had simply been staring at her glass. "Oh. N-no. I was just thinking, that's all."
Noah nearly groaned aloud as the tip of her tongue touched the corner of her mouth. He wanted to taste the wine on her lips. Inwardly he railed against the unfairness of it. It wasn't right that she could move him with an unconsciously seductive gesture. He caught himself. When had Jessa ever done anything unconsciously? She calculated everything like the shrewdest New England merchant. "Anything you care to share?" he asked, cursing the involuntary huskiness that remained in his voice.
Jessa shook her head. "No. Nothing."
Gideon was getting restless in Noah's lap so Noah set him down on the floor. The infant crawled to the lacquered table set between the two lounging chairs, clapped at the edge a few times, then pulled himself up. "How long has he been doing that?" Noah asked, watching Gideon waver upright for a few seconds then plop back on his bottom. Undaunted, Gideon pulled himself upright again, this time shuffling a few inches along the table.
She turned in her chair to see what Gideon was doing. "It started today," Jessa said, smiling. "Watch him. He doesn't seem to know how to get down again. Poor baby, he stands there all wobbly and uncertain until his legs are simply exhausted, then he falls. I helped him down once, but there was such a wail of protest that I thought I'd better let him do it his own way. I didn't do much of anything today except watch him go up and down and up again. He never stopped." Her smile faded as she became more thoughtful. "I doubt there is anything in all the world more courageous than a child," she said softly.
Noah turned away from Gideon and stared at the pure lines of Jessa's delicate profile. "Aren't you courageous?"
"Me?" Jessa stood and began stacking their plates and silverware. "Hardly," she scoffed. "I've been beaten down so many times I know when not to get up."
Beaten down? Jessa? She didn't seriously expect him to believe that. "You surprise me."
"Why?"
"The way you spoke to me yesterday, after Ross Booker's attack, that wasn't the defense of a woman lacking in courage."
"Oh, that," she dismissed lightly. "Well, I was angry then."
"And you left the Granthams," he prompted as if he believed her story. "That took courage."
"Not courage. I was frightened."
But of what? Of whom? "You were part of the robbery," he reminded her. "You knew that was dangerous no matter how well you thought it was planned. Surely that speaks to courage."
Jessa laughed. "It speaks to my desperation and nothing else. Really. Noah, you're looking for substance in my character where none exists."
Noah thought she was overplaying her role as the helpless young widow. Physically, Jessa might remind him of a willow, resilient and supple, whipping and bending in the wind, never breaking, never beaten, but when it came to Gideon she bent for no one. She had a spine of steel and a
single-mindedness that allowed no retreat. She did not care who she compromised. If he had not been her victim, Noah might have admired her courage in taking him on. As it was, he looked forward to revenge.
"Ma. Ma Ma," Gideon said, interrupting Noah's thoughts. He had managed to climb onto the low table.
"I think he wants you," said Noah, moving swiftly to keep Gideon from falling.
"No. He only wanted to get down." She took him from Noah's arm, hugged him, and set him on the floor.
She watched him for a moment then began clearing the table.
Noah stopped her. "Leave them. I want to talk to you." His palm slid up and down her arm with a casual proprietal air. His fingers circled the fragile bones of her wrist and his thumb brushed the delicate underside. He watched her confusion with satisfaction, knowing he had her off balance. Drawing on his advantage, he led her away from the table and into the living area. He did not give her time to think or form a protest. He sat down and placed her onto his lap. If she were vulnerable at all it was at times like these. "I meant to tell you earlier. Booker's been transferred to another ship. You don't have to worry about him any longer."
"He was? When?" Why was he telling her this now, in this way?
"This morning."
It was difficult to think clearly when he was touching her. She gently tried to pull away and found herself held fast. He was giving no quarter, yet he was being very tender. She wondered if she would ever fathom his moods. "What will happen to him?"
"He'll be released when the ship docks in England."
"You don't believe I flirted with him, do you?"
"No," he said, squeezing her wrist gently. "But don't think it's the first time something like that happened to you." He felt Jessa stiffen and he knew his instincts had been right. "Was it?"
"It's not important."
To Noah's way of thinking Jessa was still zealously guarding her secrets. Well, dammit, something had to give and this was the one he had chosen to single out first. He held a tight rein on his anger. "I think it is. Can't you trust me at all, Jessa?" He held his breath, waiting for her answer, wondering if he could believe her if she gave one.
