Lady Thorn

by Catherine Archer

  As if sensing her need, Jedidiah urged her gently down, positioning himself above her. She held out her arms, holding him to her as he kissed her once more, his tongue mating, melding, with hers until she squirmed with need. Then he was above her again, parting her long, slender legs.

  As he entered her, Victoria cried out his name, “Jedidiah,” and he stilled above her. His eyes met her confused, tormented ones as she wondered what was wrong.

  To her utter amazement, there was an expression of teasing playfulness that accompanied the flush of passion on his face. He whispered, “Jed.”

  Her confusion turned to understanding when she realized his intent, to have her call him by the name he favored. She smiled back at him, devilment running through her, in spite of the raging hunger inside her. “Jedidiah.”

  He smiled back, descending in one long, slow stroke, then stopping. “Jed.”

  She closed her eyes on the pleasure and agony of having him lie so still. But, summoning her will, she replied. “Jedidiah.”

  Again he began to move, and Victoria soon abandoned herself to the fierceness of the storm raging inside her. She arched and wriggled beneath him, matching her rhythm to whatever one he set as the sensations built and built to the breaking point.

  Until again he grew still.

  She looked up at him, biting her lower lip in frustration. She saw the sweat beaded on his own lip, the strain of holding back on his face. She also saw the determination in his eyes. He held her gaze with his as he sank deep, in one slow, excruciatingly pleasurable stroke, then drew back. “Jed,” he whispered hoarsely.

  Writhing beneath him and unable to prevent herself, Victoria swallowed to moisten her dry throat and nodded. “Yes. Jed.”

  He closed his eyes and thrust deep inside her, the delight exploding in ecstasy even as she cried out, “Jed… Oh, yes, Jed…”

  And then he was pulsing inside her, calling out her name in a hoarse murmur. “Victoria, sweet Victoria…”

  She held him to her, reveling in his response as much as she had in her own.

  He rolled to lie beside her, pillowing her head on his chest, his hand on her hair. Victoria sighed with exquisite euphoria.

  Jedidiah had toyed with her at the end, made her understand the strength of his will. Once, not so very long ago, at Briarwood, he had told her that she would not always get her way with him. Well, if the teasingly erotic game he had just played with her was his way of proving it, she would not mind his doing so again.

  She wanted to stay just where she was for hours, to soak up the joy of being here with him. But the hours she had spent crying, coupled with the physical languor he had just produced in her body, made her eyelids droop with sweet exhaustion….

  Jed held Victoria while their breathing quieted. Leaning over to look at her, he saw that she had fallen asleep. Her face was completely relaxed in repose, her lashes thick and dark against the flush that lay along her cheekbones. That flush had been brought on by his loving. A wave of tenderness as strong as a gale-force wind thundered over and through him. The absolute unexpectedness of the emotion made it all the more devastating to his peace of mind.

  Never had he expected to feel this way about any woman. What it meant, he did not know, only that the sensation was more powerful and compelling than anything else in his life—including his need to find his unknown son.

  Jed suddenly realized that if not for the differences in their lives, the very extremes of their positions in society, he might have allowed himself to fully explore his feelings. He might have paid court to her and seen where that might have lead them.

  Even as the realization hit him, he knew that it was impossible.

  If he had not been good enough for Nina, Victoria was as far above him as the moon. He’d told her about his upbringing, the true humbleness of where he came from. Victoria, to her credit, had not treated him any differently because of it. It was one of the things he admired about her, that in spite of where she came from, who she was, she accepted each person on his or her own merits. But he did not think she truly understood the wretched truth of it. There was no way a lady like her could.

  And it was he who could not accept the part of himself that might make him acceptable to her kind. He cursed the Malone blood that tainted his veins. A coldhearted inability to forgive was far worse than the ignorance born of poverty.

  For a brief moment, Jed’s arms tightened involuntarily around her, and she snuggled closer to him even in her sleep, making his heart ache in his breast. Deliberately he loosened his hold. Not for any reason would he allow anyone to hurt her—not even himself.

  Slowly, and with a regret that was nearly incapacitating, Jed drew away. He reached down and pulled the rumpled bed linens up, finding himself tucking them carefully around her, though he cursed himself for taking the risk of waking her.

  Then he turned, squaring his shoulders with determination, and pulled on his clothes. He would conquer his desire for her, and this would not occur again. It could not, for Victoria’s sake.

  But even as these thoughts went through his mind, a distant voice was telling Jed that if he didn’t keep his feelings at bay, his whole way of life would be compromised.

  After a nearly sleepless night, Jed woke to see Winter standing at the foot of his bed. He was holding the shirt Jed had tossed on the floor when he returned to his room, numb and aching with guilt over what had happened.

  Even as Jed watched, he raised the garment to his nose and frowned. Blanching, he realized that Victoria’s rose scent must still be clinging to the shirt.

  As if sensing that he was being watched, the gray-haired man turned toward the bed. They exchanged a long measuring look. At last the older man said, “May I speak freely, sir?” Jed raised his arm to rest it under his head. “Yes.” “Lady Victoria is different, my lord. Far above the rest.” Jed nodded stiffly. “She deserves the best.” Winter considered him for a moment. “She deserves whatever will make her happy.” He began to fold the shirt. Jed watched him, not willing to make any reply to that. He could only wonder at the pointed expression on the man’s face. Obviously the servants were not blind to whatever was going on between himself and the lady.

  Was Winter implying that Jed could make her happy? If he was, the man could not be more wrong.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The next morning, Sinclair arrived early, dressed for riding. Jed, who was having coffee in the sitting room, was not surprised to see him. He did his best to appear glad to see the other man, though, in spite of his realizations the night before, it was difficult. He set aside the copy of the Post he was reading and motioned toward the laden tray. “Would you care for coffee?”

  Sinclair accepted readily. “Yes, I believe I would. I’ve sent up my card with a request for Lady Victoria to go riding with me again.”

  Jed shrugged. “I see.” He was more than slightly apprehensive about how Victoria might react to him after last night. She might have come to the conclusion that she never wanted to see him again, but he was determined to face her. He had no intention of abandoning her until she no longer needed him.

  Sinclair nodded as he put sugar in his cup and stirred. “Would you care to go along?”

  Coolly Jed replied, “I would be happy to join you.” He could not even begin to speculate on how Victoria would respond to his accompanying them again.

  He had no intention of allowing the two to go off alone together, though he assured himself it had nothing to do with jealousy. Sinclair would get no opportunity to steal the same liberties that Jed had taken with Victoria. The thought of Ian—or any man, for that matter—doing so brought a wave of nausea that surprised him with its intensity.

  Jed forced it down, telling himself not to think about her being with another man. He must focus on his responsibility to make sure the lady was safe and protected from harm until her marriage was assured.

  Jed met the other man’s friendly expression without guilt. He did, in fact, through a great
effort, manage a polite smile. He picked up a copy of the Times and offered it to Sinclair.

  Ian shrugged, and took it. It seemed he had decided to accept Jed in the role of protective cousin. Which was just the part Jed intended to play from now onward.

  After only a short time, Sinclair dropped the paper and spoke with animation and knowledge of the new horse he had just purchased for the purpose of breeding. Jed looked at him with interest. Gone was the pose of the bored aristocrat. The more he saw of Ian Sinclair, the more Jed realized Victoria was right to believe there was something worthwhile to him.

  Victoria arrived in the sitting room half an hour after Sinclair, looking pale and uncertain. Jed could not bring himself to meet her eyes, though he could feel her searching gaze upon him.

  His offhand greeting to her was completely overshadowed by Sinclair’s effusive one. When Ian rose and took her hand for a moment, Jed had to fight the feelings of possessiveness that pierced his heart, keeping his features schooled in a polite mask.

  The moment he sensed her attention switch to Sinclair, his greedy eyes focused on her, taking in every detail of her sweet curves, as they were revealed by the close-fitting riding habit of amber velvet she wore. The sheer veil of the matching hat framed her beautiful face and shadowed her heavily lashed eyes. The creamy line of her cheek and jaw were revealed in startling perfection.

  When she shook her head in answer to something Sinclair had said, her tongue darted out to wet her lips. Jed felt an almost painful tightening in his lower stomach as he recalled the feel of that tongue on his flesh. A rushing sounded in his ears as other, even more evocative images filled his mind and fired his senses.

  He closed his eyes, battling his reactions to her with all his will. It was some moments before he realized that Sinclair was speaking his name.

  “Mr. McBride, shall we go?”

  “Jed,” he replied automatically, the word reminding him of the way Victoria had succumbed so sensuously to his desire for her to say his name. Jed swallowed hard. He now realized that accompanying them was a mistake, did not know how he would get through it without revealing his feelings. Even so, he could not bear the thought of Ian being alone with her.

  He would simply have to control himself. “Of course.” He rose and went to the door, being careful not to look toward the object of his desire. He was infinitely aware of her where she stood at Sinclair’s side, her presence like a shining beacon to his senses.

  Once they were mounted and heading for the park, Jed began to get some command over himself. He was somehow able to make perfectly rational replies to Ian’s friendly efforts at conversation.

  Victoria said very little as they rode along. She felt a trace of bitterness when she realized that neither of the two men seemed to notice. They appeared quite content to carry on their own conversation.

  But deep inside she knew that she did not care to talk. All that mattered was the swelling waves of pain inside her.

  She glanced over at the man in question, took in the remote expression he wore, and shivered with sorrow. Seeing him like this reminded her, quite forcefully, that the sea captain felt no sentiment toward her.

  If he did, it would be impossible for him to withdraw from her so completely. Thus, she knew that the best thing for her would be to push all feelings for him to the farthest, darkest part of her soul. She must never again acknowledge that those emotions existed.

  Victoria simply was not sure how this was to be accomplished. Each syllable that fell from his lips, each movement of his strong hands on his horse’s reins, reminded her anew of how dear he was to her. How much she would miss him when he went away.

  She became aware of someone speaking her name. “Victoria.”

  Immediately her eager gaze went to Jedidiah, but he was studiously checking the buckle that held the bridle on his horse’s head. Her expression changed to disappointment.

  “Victoria.” This time her gaze found the source of the sound. Ian Sinclair. He was looking at her with a frown of both puzzlement and concentration. He glanced over at the stony-faced Jedidiah, then back to her.

  Victoria blushed, her attention focusing on her gloved hands. Dear heaven, had she given herself away? She glanced back at the nobleman, and his knowingly arched brows told her that she very well might have. Desperately she tried to think of some way to rectify the situation.

  Nothing came to mind. She was too caught up in her own pain at Jedidiah’s rejection and the utter hopelessness of the situation.

  Victoria was shocked from these devastating thoughts by Jedidiah’s shout of alarm. “Good Lord!”

  She looked up to see him spurring his mount away from them. Ahead of him was a sight that made her blood freeze in her veins. A bay gelding, its reins trailing, reared and pranced above the prone body of what looked to be a child.

  Jedidiah reached the scene quickly, leaping from his horse to place himself between the flying hooves and the child. He turned on the animal, waving his arms wide. This made the horse rear up again, and for one heart-stopping moment Victoria feared Jedidiah would be struck, but the horse veered at the last moment, racing away across the grass.

  Ian Sinclair arrived immediately behind the other man.

  Recovering from her shock quickly, Victoria prodded her own horse forward. When she reached the spot, she dismounted to join the men where they knelt beside the child. It was a young boy of probably twelve or thirteen years of age. He appeared to be unconscious, but she could see no sign of blood, no twisted limbs.

  Victoria pulled off her gloves and leaned over to touch his still face, which looked so pale against the emerald-green grass. His skin was smooth and warm against her palm, but he did not respond.

  She looked up then as a shout sounded behind them. A stout man on a similarly colored stallion was bearing down upon them. He continued to gallop toward them at a breakneck pace, pulling on the reins in the last moment, dismounting even as the horse reared in reaction.

  He rushed over and drew the still-unconscious child up into his arms, feeling the fragile neck for a pulse. “Oh, son, thank the Lord you live.” Unashamed tears sparkled in his brown eyes.

  Victoria felt tears sting her own eyes at the man’s unabashed show of emotion for his child. Such paternal devotion was not often so openly displayed. She felt an instant affinity with the stout gray-haired gentleman.

  Immediately she introduced herself. “I am Victoria Thorn.” She gestured toward each of the men in turn. “These two gentlemen are Mr. Jedidiah McBride and Lord Ian Sinclair. We saw what was happening to your son and came to see if we could be of any assistance.”

  He nodded, without paying more than cursory attention to the introductions. Most of the man’s concentration continued to be centered on the boy. Absently he offered, “Squire Harry Fairfield.”

  As he said the name Fairfield, Victoria’s gaze flew to Jedidiah’s face. Fairfield! Heavens, that was Nina’s name! Judging by the shock and disbelief on the sea captain’s countenance, he was not oblivious of the coincidence.

  Jed’s gaze focused on the child in the man’s arms. He could not allow himself to think that this might mean anything, that this might be the Fairfield he was looking for. But even after twelve years, Jed remembered that Nina’s housekeeper had been very definite in her report that Miss Nina was marrying a Squire Fairfield.

  His gaze ran over the child’s face. Good God, but the age must be about right. His own son would be eleven. The boy was a bit large for eleven, but then, Jed had always been big for his age. The hair was blond and straight, the brow smooth and wide. The boy’s nose was straight and strongly formed, even at this age. There might be a resemblance in those features. It was hard to tell, with the youthful fullness still in the downy cheeks. And there was a marked difference in the mouth, it being somewhat fuller than Jed’s, but what did that mean?

  Was he looking at his own son?

  God help him, he could not think properly. What a surprise it was to see the boy
here like this. All the people he had questioned, the leads he had followed, all had ended in nothing.

  Then, today, when he was least expecting it, he’d been where he needed to be at just the right moment. He might have actually saved the life of his own child—his son. Jed curled his fingers in the grass beneath his hand, smelled the crisp scent it gave off, felt the brush of the breeze against his cheek, looked into the clear blue sky and knew this was real. He felt a soaring sense of wonder that this world was indeed a miraculous place. He gazed down at the boy again, trying to bring himself under control.

  The child might not be his, he told himself sternly. It might turn out to be a coincidence, this man’s name being the same as Nina’s, her having married a man with the title of squire, the child’s features being somewhat like his own.

  Despite all the rational things he tried to tell himself, his gaze roamed with avid hunger over the child’s face again. He tried to remember if Nina had had a mouth like that. He couldn’t recall. The face that overshadowed all others in Jed’s mind was Victoria’s.

  He glanced over and saw the veiled excitement and compassion in her gray eyes. He realized that she was thinking the same things as he.

  Perhaps, then, it might be true.

  Her heart turning over in her breast, Victoria watched as Jedidiah reached out to run a trembling hand over the child’s blond hair. The squire appeared not to think that there was anything odd about Jedidiah’s reactions, as he made no comment. She could only assume he was too worried about the boy’s condition to notice.

  Victoria looked at Jedidiah and saw the dazed expression on his pale face as he examined the child. Turning her own attention to the boy’s face, Victoria saw again what seemed to be uncanny similarities in the lines of the jaws, the shapes of the two noses, the curves of the cheeks.