"And I want none," she retorted a bit too haughtily, betraying herself again by the tone of her voice.
He'd had enough of this. He took her by the wrist and half led, half pushed her to the terrace. He wanted no one else to overhear them.
"Unhand me, sir!” she demanded in a low hiss. "Why are you dragging me out here?" She raised her voice so that he could hear her above the pounding of her heart. He did hear her heart, she was certain of it. It was making so much noise, it was almost all she could hear herself.
"Because I didn't want anyone to hear you lie like that."
Her eyes were huge as she glared at him. "I do not lie!"
The look in his eyes mocked her words. "Rachel, your lips tell an entirely different story when they're beneath mine."
The arrogant bastard. Just because he unleashed something passionate, something almost heathen within her when he kissed her gave him no right to toss it in her face now like a common country clod. Like a British landlord. "It's bite you I should have done when you took advantage of me."
It was past the time for lies, for excuses to hide behind. He took her hand in his. The look in her eyes, he noted, was murderous.
"No one took advantage of you, Rachel. It's not possible. I've never known a woman who was less helpless than you." When her lips turned into a pout, Sin-Jin added. "It's one of the things I like about you."
His answer stopped the rain of anger within her from pouring out for a moment. She was torn between giving him a good tongue-lashing for his presumption and asking him to tell her more. Need won out over pride. "And what else do you like about me?"
It would take an hour to catalogue. "Your eyes, the way they flash when you talk."
She wanted desperately to hide the fact that his words pleased her. "It's only natural when I'm addressing a heathen."
She couldn't fool him any longer. He knew the bent of her soul, had seen it in her eyes when she had tended to him after the fire. His fingertips skimmed her hair. Like a silken sunset.
"Your hair," he told her. "It's the color of red roses in early spring."
She could feel her breath hitching within her. How could that be when her heart was still madly drumming? "Your tongue is too smooth. You've said things like this before." To other women, all of whom she hated.
But Sin-Jin shook his head. "Only to you, in my dreams."
She wouldn't believe him. She couldn't believe him. She wanted nothing more than to believe him. But there was a method to all this. His. "And next you'll want my head on your pillow—"
He smiled. There would be no lies between them, not hers, not his. "The idea has crossed my mind."
He wouldn't take such a loose stand with her if she were a highborn lady. Her eyes narrowed, even as something small within her yearned for him to make good on his threat.
"Because you've a position and I am but a lowly peasant—"
He wasn't going to have her think like that any longer. "This isn't Ireland, Rachel," he reminded her. "Or England. There are no peasants here." He seemed to stalk her even though they remained where they were. "Admit it, you've had thoughts about me as well. Dreams—" *
She'd take those to the grave with her before admitting to them. "Only about burning you in oil, Lawrence. Slowly."
Ever so gently, he stroked his fingers along the hollow of her cheek and watched a nerve dance there. "It would be a waste."
She pulled her head away, though she thought that
she would die without the touch of his hand. "A matter of opinion."
"Do I frighten you that much?" he asked softly.
There were no better words with which to challenge her. Her eyes grew darker than the shade of her dress. "I'm not afraid of any man."
He had placed a hand on the railing on either side of her, neatly trapping her. "Then why do you back away each time I come close to you?"
They were alone. A delicious feeling coursed throughout the length of her body. She had no defense at her disposal but her tongue and she used it now, desperately, like a lone soldier fighting off a legion of the enemy.
"It's a natural enough defense against a snake. It seems that when St. Patrick drove them out of Ireland, some of them must have swum to England and eventually spawned the likes of you."
She was hiding behind her anger again. He shook his head. "Not good enough."
She suddenly realized that he had trapped her. She glared at the prison of his arms. "Take your hands away this instant."
Instead of drawing them away, he enclosed her in them. "Sorry. But by your own shrewd observation, I am a snake. Therefore I have no hands. It must be your imagination."
As she tried to push him away, Sin-Jin lowered his mouth over hers and satisfied a yearning he had had for too long.
Chapter Twenty-four
She was melting. The night was crisp and cool, with hardly a hint of pending summer in the air, yet she was melting as surely as if she were a wax candle being held just above a blazing fire.
The heat of his mouth had set her very limbs to burning, yearning for something unknown. Yearning for him. And though logic and upbringing dictated that she should push him away with all her might, with all her might she pressed her body closer to his, searching for something that would somehow extinguish this fire that flamed within.
How could he undo her like this, with only his lips as a weapon? How could he fire salvo after salvo, making her want to surrender? And how could it be that with one touch, he sent all thoughts, all sense, all proper decorum flying out through a window, disappearing as if they had never existed? She'd never been a slave to rules. Contrarily, Rachel found a certain pleasure in breaking the hard and fast ones that were meant to hold her in her place.
But this, this madness he created was entirely different.
Rachel felt his mouth roam over her face, and every part of her body tingled in anticipation. He made her feel as if she had wings and was soaring above the clouds. With something so simple as a kiss, he made her feel as if she was no longer part of the earth itself.
Only part of him. And longing to be more so.
She felt his hands as they pressed against her back, molding her to him, felt his mouth as it trailed along her throat discovering secrets about her that she never knew she harbored. Her heart was pounding in her throat, in her chest, and deep inside her very core. It was pounding to a rhythm. And the rhythm bore only one name.
Sin-Jin.
It was no use. The more he took from Rachel, the more he wanted her. And the less he had. She drew more things out of him than she gave, making him almost penitent in his need.
Sin-Jin knew now, if he didn't before, that it wasn't going to be just a simple matter of working her out of his system. She was now part of his system. Rachel was deeply embedded, like a tenacious vine that wove its way in and out of a trellis until the frame completely disappeared from view. Without trying, Rachel had worked her way into his soul, and now he no longer knew where he ended and she began.
If he didn't stop kissing her this moment, he was going to carry her off into the darkness and turn all of his fantasies into reality.
Trembling, employing effort that was almost superhuman, Sin-Jin drew his mouth away from hers. In that single moment, he felt something akin to grief settle over his soul.
She was gasping for breath as if she had run a long way to reach this place in his arms. As she felt the absence of his mouth on hers, she was almost afraid to look at him. If she saw a smile on his face at her expense, she was going to rip it off, as well as his heart. But he wasn't smiling. He looked as bereft as she felt. It helped. A little.
Swallowing, she gained a measure of control over her voice. "I wish you would stop doing that." She knew to the exact minute how long it had been since he had kissed her last. And there had been too many minutes in between. But he couldn't know that.
So they weren't through with lies yet. He touched the tiny gold hoop at her ear and watched as it swayed hypnotically. "N
o, you don't."
Why wouldn't he let her retain just a shred of her pride? Would he take everything from her? "Oh, and now you claim to read minds?"
"No, only yours." He saw her face darken. She took offense faster than anyone he knew. "Wait, I want you to feel something."
She curled her fingers into her hands and moved them behind her back. Suspicion and uncertainty raised twin heads upon the body of self-doubt. "What?"
Coaxing, but firm, Sin-Jin took her hand from behind her back and guided it to his chest. It thudded against him, still a fist. He laughed and pried her fingers open. "There. That."
She looked at him curiously, confused. "That?"
"My heart." He pressed her hand more urgently against his chest. "Can you feel it?"
It seemed to be thumping harder than she thought it should. Had she done that? She felt a smile spreading through her. Rachel drew a breath before answering. Yes.
He wanted to cover her heart with his own hand, but he knew that would only earn him a broken crown at the moment. "It's beating just as hard as yours is."
She pulled her hand away, though there was a trace of smugness that slipped through her. "I'll thank you to be leaving my heart out of this."
Sin-Jin shook his head. "I'm afraid it's passed that point."
Damn him for knowing. Damn him for being right. She didn't want to admit it. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. "I haven't the faintest idea what it is that you're going on about."
He looked into her eyes and she knew the lie was transparent.
"Oh Rachel, Rachel, you're like a caterpillar who can't decide whether to remain a caterpillar or become a butterfly. But what you haven't realized is that you're going to be a butterfly whether you agree to it or not." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "It's all predestined, you see."
She rubbed her other hand over her knuckles, as if denying the kiss. Or perhaps, sealing it in. "Not your butterfly, I'm not."
"Yes, my butterfly. That's the part that's predestined." He saw the hesitation in her eyes, the uncertainty. "But you have nothing to be afraid of."
"I'm not afraid," she snapped.
He went on as if she had made no protest, for he knew better. "I won't be clipping your wings. God only knows why, but I like you the way you are, sharp tongue, independence and all."
His butterfly.
He was right and she knew it. What was worse, he knew it. But she didn't have to appear to accept her fate so readily. If he wanted her, he was going to have to put up some sort of a struggle to get her. She wasn't an apple hanging from a tree for the picking. She wasn't about to be taken and used for his pleasure, only to be discarded when he was tired of her. She wouldn't allow that to happen no matter how much she ached for him.
"It's rude to leave the party." Lifting up her skirt, Rachel turned and walked back inside the ballroom, taking her leave as regally as any princess.
Sin-Jin stood out on the balcony a moment, wondering how much more patience she would require of him, how much more he had to give. And how many more words would have to pass between them before she admitted her feelings for him after he had all but shouted his for her.
Drawing a long breath, he turned and followed her inside.
Riley had found more than one young woman to entertain himself with. He stood now, near the terrace, exchanging ideas on widowhood with a recently widowed woman of barely twenty-three. One Sally Howe who found herself in possession of a large plantation and no likely candidate to immediately fill her husband's place. Riley was situated so that he could see his sister and Sin-Jin re-enter. He immediately saw the troubled look on Rachel's face and read the confusion on Sin-Jin's.
His loyalties were torn. After a moment's deliberation, he excused himself from Mrs. Howe and fell into step beside Sin-Jin.
"A word."
Sin-Jin turned, surprised to be addressed. The mental fog that had overtaken him was great and almost impenetrable. Because it was Riley, he stopped and smiled graciously. "Certainly."
Riley motioned him off to the side so that they could speak without being overheard by a certain gossip. The woman would have enjoyed nothing more than to carry half-truths from ear to willing ear.
"About my sister," Riley began.
Sin-Jin sighed. Was he about to lose Riley's friendship as well? He raised a hand to ward off Riley's words, anticipating their nature. "If you're about to defend her honor, let me reassure you, it's quite intact. The lady all but takes a hunting knife to my heart every time I approach her."
Riley laid a sympathetic hand to the man's shoulder. "It's not Rachel who's concerning me at the moment. It's you.”
Sin-Jin cocked his head slightly, as if that could help him fathom the words more clearly. "Pardon me, but how is that again?"
This might take time. Riley beckoned him over to the punch bowl, the one with a liberal helping of spirits mixed into it. Nothing helped the throat relate stories better, he had found, than a coating of golden whiskey. He poured a cup and handed it to Sin-Jin, then took one for himself.
Braced, Riley began. "I think you should know that my sister holds the British to blame for all our family's misfortunes."
Sin-Jin took a sip of his punch and grimaced slightly. It was four parts whisky to one part punch. He watched Riley drink his without so much as blinking an eye. "I rather gathered that."
Sin-Jin needed the full story to understand, Riley decided. He hated even talking about it, but this was a friend, one he wanted to be in the family. One he felt Rachel needed.
"When she was twelve, Rachel was gathering berries behind the house when she heard our mother scream. Rachel came running in to find the lord of the manor, Lancaster was his name, trying to rape her." Riley smiled sadly. "My mother was a very beautiful, fragile woman and Lancaster had long had his eye on her.”
"Lancaster had waited until my father and I were gone, then he came to collect the overdue rent. One way or another." Riley drained his cup, then took a little more. His face was grim. "Lancaster looked at my sister, laughed and said that she would be next. He told her to wait her turn." He swallowed. "The bastard said that then they would only be two months behind in their rent instead of three." Riley set his mouth grimly as he remembered the rest of the story as Rachel had told him. "Rachel stabbed him in the leg with an iron poker. He bled all over the floor."
Sin-Jin let out a low whistle. As Riley spoke, Sin-Jin could envision it, envision her, a small child of twelve, defending her mother like a tigress. She had spirit even then.
"Lancaster left, vowing revenge. That night, our cottage was set on fire." Riley began to take another sip of whisky, then set the cup down. Nothing would remove the taste from his mouth. "With us sleeping in it. Our da managed to save me and Rachel and our little sister. But our mother was lost. She was four months with child at the time." His eyes filled with tears, even though the event was ten years in the past. "Rachel blamed herself for what happened."
"But why—?"
"Lancaster had told her that whatever happened, it was on her head." Riley sighed. "We fled from the manor that night. Neighbors hid us and money was found for passage through the generosity of the parish priest." There was a distant cast in Riley's eyes. "On the voyage over, our da became sick and died, as did Deirdre."
"Deirdre?"
It'd been so long since he had said her name. She was only a memory now. But all the more vivid for that. "Our little sister. She was ten. Rachel nursed them both until I feared she'd come down with the fever herself. Da died first. When Deirdre died, Rachel sat for hours, holding her hand, pleading with her to wake up, to come back." He shuddered, as if trying to shake off the memory. "Broke my heart, she did. Rachel couldn't stop putting the blame on herself. Said if she hadn't stabbed that pig of a man, none of this would have happened."
It didn't sound like reasoning he would expect from Rachel. He reminded himself that she was only twelve at the time. "How could she think that? She was only doing what she thought was
right. What was right."
Riley pushed the memory aside and turned his face to the present. "True, but guilt is a horrible thing. It eats at you until there's nothing left inside to give. You being British brings it all back to her. And her burden is that much heavier because she's in love with you." Riley saw the skeptical look on Sin-Jin's face. "Aye, she is. I know Rachel well enough to tell you that. When she says no that loudly, it's yes she means."
Sin-Jin wanted to believe Riley, had harbored the very same hope in his heart. But for some reason, hearing the words aloud raised doubts in his mind.
"The trouble with the situation," Riley continued, "is she doesn't feel that she should be happy, not with everyone else gone. And certainly not with someone who was once a British subject."
Sin-Jin shook his head. Where was he to begin to comfort her, to make her see that it wasn't right to blame herself this way? Or him for something he hadn't done? How was he to convince her that she deserved a chance at happiness? That they both did?
"But I can't help where I was born."
Riley decided that a third cup, one just to savor, was in order. He raised a quizzical brow in Sin-Jin's direction before refilling his empty cup.
"Aye, I know that. But you can go slowly with her." He sighed in contentment as another long sip wound its way to his stomach, warming the path along the way. He wondered if the widow was still unoccupied. And if he would like living on a tobacco plantation.
"And don't walk away." Riley sobered and placed his hand on Sin-Jin's arm for emphasis. "You're the only man alive she hasn't frightened away with that tongue of hers, except for Franklin."
That Sin-Jin could well understand. "It is a weapon at that."
Riley lifted his shoulders and let them drop casually as he looked about for the Widow Howe. "For my money, you're a good match, you are. Your heart is pure and he's taken a liking to you as well." Riley jerked a thumb at Franklin, who was now talking to Mrs. Howe. Charming her out of her stays, no doubt, Riley thought without resentment. He didn't really care for tobacco that much, he decided. "That's the only assurance I need."
Moonlight Lover Page 18
