Lady Thorn

by Catherine Archer

  Her marriage to Ian would free Jedidiah to get on with his life as soon as his child was found. His resentment at looking after her was becoming all the more obvious. Why else would he react so poorly to Ian? Yet she hesitated.

  She cast an unknowingly wistful gaze toward Jedidiah as he pointed out the weak withers on an otherwise notable chestnut mare. He looked a devastatingly strong and allconfident male sitting tall in the saddle of his Thoroughbred stallion. The slight breeze ruffled his sun-streaked blond hair and tossed it into his sea-green eyes.

  Victoria sighed.

  Only a short time later, she pleaded fatigue and the two men escorted her home. Ian Sinclair refused the refreshment she offered to him, saying he had another engagement. Strangely, she was not the least bit sorry to see him go. The strain of maintaining a casual attitude was telling on her, and she wished desperately to be alone to think.

  Jedidiah had other plans. As soon as they entered the house, he spoke her name in a tone that told her he had something of import to say. “Victoria.”

  She halted her progress toward the stairs. “Yes.” She refused to look around, not wishing to face him just now. She did not want to discuss his actions this day, nor Ian’s reasons for coming to see her, nor anything else, for that matter.

  His voice was coolly civil. “May I speak with you for a moment?”

  She stiffened, but the request was given so courteously that she felt it would be churlish of her to refuse. Still without looking at him, she nodded. “In the library?”

  “Thank you,” he replied, and followed as she led the way.

  Victoria did not take a seat, and neither did Jed. She hoped this interview would not be prolonged.

  Jedidiah began immediately. “Victoria, I want to say that I was wrong to behave as I did earlier today. I hope I have managed to rectify any harm I might have caused you with Sinclair. I was simply concerned for you, because of his reported reputation.” He paused for a long moment, then went on. “He seems a decent man, and I am certainly not one to slander him.”

  She had suspected that Jedidiah was acting so oddly because of his promise to protect her, and his words confirmed it. “As I said to you before, I believe he has spent a great deal of energy rebelling against his father. I do not know what brought on the feud, but I feel Lord Sinclair is ready to try to put it behind him.”

  She paused then, wondering. Jedidiah’s acceptance of Ian made her wonder if she should just tell him that she was thinking of marrying the man.

  Considering his continued sense of responsibility toward her, Jedidiah had a right to know that he would soon be free of his obligation to her. The unexplainable sadness she felt at this thought made her voice sound raspy to her own ears. “Helping to run the Thorn estates would give him a new direction for his energies. And might just make him a better man.”

  There was a long silence that seemed to stretch on forever. Then, finally, in a tone that was completely devoid of any hint of emotion, Jedidiah said, “So it has already gone that far. You are thinking of marrying him?”

  She raised her head high. “He has asked me to do so.”

  “I see. And you did not bother to tell me.”

  She forced herself to look at him then. She could not begin to imagine what emotion darkened his eyes. “I was not sure he was serious in his proposal. His actions today have made me believe he was. Until then, I had not thought of what I might say in reply.”

  “And now you are thinking about what you might say?” His expression was so remote that it chilled her. She felt as if she were lost, abandoned, on a winter night. Had they ever been so close that they had shared the most intimate act any two people could?

  She forced herself to reply evenly. “Yes.”

  He stared at her for so long she thought she would surely go mad from the tension of it. She could not look away.

  With an unintelligible sound, Jedidiah turned and left the room. A moment later, she heard the front door slam closed.

  Victoria could only stand still in stunned disbelief at the violence of his reaction. Whatever could be the matter with him? He had admitted only moments before that he might have been wrong about Lord Sinclair’s character. What then was the cause of his disapproval now?

  She’d have thought he would be glad to know he might soon be rid of her. She felt that with her out of the way he would be free to concentrate on his own problems. The reluctance she felt to tell Jedidiah about the proposal had been because of her own ill-fated feelings for him.

  Victoria could not hazard a guess as to the cause of his obvious anger. And had no wish to try. It seemed she could do little to please Jedidiah McBride.

  With her head high, Victoria made her way to her bedchamber. Only then, with the door securely closed behind her, did she lie down upon her bed and sob out her anguish—as she had not done since her parents’ deaths.

  Jed rode on through the cobbled thoroughfares of London, not sure where he was going or why. After a time, the streets became narrower, the buildings tall and extremely close. Many of the people he passed were filthy and bedraggled.

  These were the kind of folk he had grown up among. Here or in Bar Harbor, poverty and illiteracy spoke the same language.

  Finally he stopped at a tavern and went inside. The interior was dim and smelled strongly of the smoke that curled from the hearth. He seated himself at a table that was wet from a recent washing but still bore the evidence of white streaks of grease.

  An unkempt woman of indeterminate age approached him with a gleam in her tired eyes as she took in his fine clothes. Putting her hands on her bony hips, she did her best to look alluring. “What can I get for ye, my fine gentleman? Somethin’ special?”

  Jed shook his head. “Just ale. And there will be a bit extra in it for you if it comes in a clean tankard.”

  She nodded quickly and scurried away, accepting his lack of interest without reaction. The woman was back a moment later with a frothing cup. Seeing that it was indeed reasonably clean, Jed passed her a crown.

  Her eyes enormous as cannonballs, she scooped the coin into the front of her tattered dress before it could be seen by either of the other two customers, who lolled at a nearby table. She made no sound, only nodded frantically, then scampered off.

  Not being surprised at this behavior, Jed turned to his cup. It was probably more than she made working in this hellhole in months, and the other patrons would likely not hesitate to rob her in order to get it.

  He wondered if he had been foolish to give so much, thinking of how it would have been welcomed by his own mother. He shook his head. The crown seemed a small sum of money to him now, but how greatly it would have affected his life when he was a child. Perhaps the tavern wench had a child herself.

  As he had a child, Jed reminded himself. He wondered again, as he had for an uncountable number of times, what his son was like. Was the boy happy?

  God help him, he told himself angrily, his child was what he should be thinking about, his son. But all he cared about was a woman he could not have—did not want. This only served to bring on more feelings of guilt. Deep inside him he was afraid there was a part of him that did not want to complete his quest and find the boy. Finding him would mean never seeing Victoria again.

  And if he did not want her, why did that matter so much? Why did his guts ache at the very thought? It was sheer madness.

  Jed had to come to grips with his reactions, to behave like a sane man, not some unschooled adolescent. He had known from the start that Victoria would marry. His having made love to her did not change that, gave him no right to ownership of her in any way.

  He looked around, saw the squalor of this place, and wondered how Victoria would react to knowing all the truth about him. Already he’d revealed more to her than to anyone. She’d not seemed surprised to learn of his more—Jed’s lips curled at the word—genteel heritage. Would she be so accepting of his other side, the one that had been forged in the fires of poverty? He didn’
t believe so.

  Yet Victoria could only be what she was. He’d had no right to react so coldly when she told him she was considering marrying Sinclair. Every time he tried to tell her he regretted treating her unfairly, he ended up doing so again. He knew he had to pull himself together and do what was right. How he could do it without giving away his feelings for her? He knew only that he must try one more time.

  Leaving the tavern, he traveled back through the less crowded streets, surprised to see that the hour had grown so late. He’d had no idea he’d been riding for so long before stopping at the tavern.

  The Georgian mansion on Grosvenor Square was quiet when he returned. The door was opened by a sleepy-eyed male servant. When Jed asked after Lady Victoria, he was told that she had retired.

  Muttering a thank-you, Jed made his way to the upper floor. He knew he should go to his room and leave well enough alone for the night. But the memory of Victoria’s stricken face and sad eyes drove him to go directly to her bedchamber. He had no intention of doing anything other than apologizing, he assured himself.

  When he knocked at the door, a muffled voice bade him enter.

  Victoria was seated at her dressing table, a hand pressed to her forehead, her eyes closed. Her hair tumbled down her back to her hips in a curtain of black waves, making him remember the feel of it against his skin.

  Firmly Jed told himself not to think on such things. He was here only to make amends.

  She spoke without looking around. “I told you, Betty, you may go on to bed. It is nothing more than the megrim.”

  Jed answered softly. “It’s not Betty.”

  She swung around in surprise, then leapt to her feet, her hand going to the neckline of her pale blue robe. “Why are you here?” Her voice was hoarse.

  Jed looked at her closely, taking in her inflamed eyes and pale cheeks. God rot his soul. She’d been crying. And he knew he was the one who had made her cry.

  As if his close scrutiny were too much for her, Victoria half turned away, her dark hair falling across her face. Instinctively Jed knew she hated for him to see her this way, hated for him to know she had been crying. She was a proud and independent woman, more so than any he had ever met. That was one of the very things that drew him to her.

  Guilt prodded him like a hot knife in his chest. Without any foreknowledge that he was going to do so, Jed held out his arms in silent repentance for the pain he had caused her.

  She ran into them.

  Jed held her close, his hand smoothing the tousled mane of her dark hair. Closing his eyes, he breathed in the scent of her.

  “Oh, Jedidiah, how I have missed you, missed having you hold me,” she whispered against his shoulder.

  He felt his heart lurch in response. What a fool he had been to try to deny his longing for her. It washed over him like an incoming tide. To be with her, to touch her like this, was his only hope of relief.

  “Victoria, “Victoria…” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I’m so sorry for having hurt you. It is the very last thing I want to do.” Gently he cupped her chin, turning her face up to his, his eyes telling her how remorseful he was.

  Victoria looked at him, saw the tenderness in his eyes, felt its answer deep inside herself. Suddenly she knew, with an unshakable certainty, that nothing would ever be the same. No longer could she deny the truth inside her.

  She loved him, with all her heart and soul.

  She also knew as soon as the knowledge came to her that it would only end by bringing her pain. Even if he did love her in return, there was no hope for them. Jedidiah McBride would not stay in England, and she could not leave. There was no other to carry on her responsibilities, to see to the good of all the hundreds of people who depended on her.

  The loneliness of her decision, the passionless future that lay ahead, made her ache for all that would not be. That was what led her to her next action. The future might indeed be bleak, but she could, did she but have the courage, seize this moment. Taking his hand, she took a step backward, looking up at him with all the yearning inside her.

  Jedidiah stood still, staring down at her, clearly trying to understand what she was saying. She glanced back over her shoulder, toward the bed, where it lay in candlelight, the crisp white sheets turned back in invitation.

  He looked at the bed, then at her, and swallowed, closing his eyes. He opened them again, and she saw how they had darkened to jade. “Victoria, I… That is not why I came here. You don’t have to… I did not expect…”

  She hushed him with a finger on his warm lips. “Shh… I know. You don’t have to say a thing.”

  Again she stepped backward, pulling him with her.

  Jed could no longer resist. This was what he had thought about night and day since the first time they were together. Even knowing that she would likely marry Sinclair, he could not deny her or himself.

  Victoria felt it the moment his resistance left him, and she nearly sighed her relief aloud. Already she was trembling at the knowledge that Jedidiah would touch her once again, bring her to that furious peak of fulfillment. And, oh, how much pleasure she would know along the way…

  The promise of it was already growing in his eyes as his gaze moved over her in an almost tangible caress. He followed her with sensuous deliberation.

  She backed up until her legs came up against the side of the bed, her gaze never straying from his. When she could go no farther, he did not press her backward, onto the softness of the mattress, as she had thought he would.

  Instead, he reached out to lift the curtain of her hair away from her neck, his lids heavy as he watched her. And Victoria felt her own droop downward. She sighed as he bent his head and began, very delicately, to kiss and nibble at her sensitive nape. Victoria felt a swell of tingling delight shudder through her.

  She tilted her head back to allow him better access as he moved around to the front of her neck, her breath coming more quickly with each caress. Then he was moving down, ever so slowly, to press his lips to the tender skin just above the scooped neckline of her robe.

  Victoria felt her breasts swell in anticipation as he nuzzled at the edge of the soft velvet. She reached up to pull it open, allow him full access, but he stopped her with a hand. “No. Let me.”

  She could not take her eyes from his face as he parted the delicate fabric, drawing back first her robe, then her gown, with infinite languor. It was as if he would savor this moment forever. This only served to heighten her own sense of expectancy, and her heart thumped so hard against her ribs that she thought he must surely feel it. When at last she was laid bare to his gaze, he simply stood there, his fervent gaze drinking in the sight of her till she could stand it no longer. “Jedidiah…” she murmured.

  He looked into her eyes, his own dark with desire. “I had thought nothing could be as beautiful as I remembered you to be. But you are all I recalled and more.”

  She reached for him, turning her mouth up for his kiss. He took her against him, molding the slender length of her to the hard contours of his body.

  When her own hands moved to touch him, she was frustrated by the barrier of his clothing. Then, somehow, without breaking the contact of their lips, he was bare to her questing fingers. The first time they made love, she’d had little thought for anything save the pounding of her own blood. This time, being fully aware that they could not be together again, she was hungry to learn all she could of this man. This love of hers.

  She smoothed her hands over the hard muscles of his chest, read the contours of his shoulders with her fingertips. He was so beautiful. A divine creation shaped by a loving hand, for God could be nothing less than loving if he had made Jedidiah McBride.

  He groaned as she slid her palms lower over his flat belly and she felt the muscle tighten beneath the skin. Amazed and excited that she had brought about this kind of reaction in him, Victoria was emboldened to dare more. She allowed one hand to glide down into the tangle of thick curls at the base of his stomach, and he qui
vered.

  Then, looking up into his eyes, she pressed still lower, closing her fingers over the length of him. He pulsed in her grip, and his lids closed as he gasped, “Victoria!”

  When she tightened her grasp in reaction, he reached down to still her. “No more. I want to pleasure you.”

  A shiver of excitement rippled through her as he pressed her back into the softness of the mattress. His mouth claimed her eager one in a long, fierce kiss before he moved down to nuzzle her breasts. Her heart stopped as his lips closed on one turgid tip, and it was her turn to cry out his name. “Jedidiah!”

  This time, when the liquid warmth grew in her lower belly, Victoria knew how the sensations growing inside her would culminate, knew Jedidiah had the power to carry her beyond herself, to unutterable fulfillment. She put her hands up to hold his head to her, feeling the silkiness of his sun-streaked hair against her skin. He was hers—for this moment, at least—and she would allow herself to do as she pleased. Tomorrow she would know no regrets for having held back.

  As Jedidiah raised up on his haunches to look down at her, his gaze hot with desire, she studied him again with unashamed admiration. He was beautiful, more so than she had ever imagined a man could be. His chest and shoulders were a burnished gold from exposure to the sun, and lower, where the sun had not gilded him, he was a dark cream. Smooth skin lay taut over hard muscles that flexed and rippled as he moved. His manhood rose, proud and attentive, from the thatch of curls at his groin. Through hardship and toil, his body had been honed to the peak of what a man could be.

  Victoria rose up on her knees, kissing his chest with tender care, feeling the honey flow inside her anew. Jedidiah held her to him, running his hands through her dark hair, then down over her smooth back, to the gentle curves of her bottom. When his hands closed around those two firm mounds, she moaned, arching toward him, aching to have him fill her.