Three Redeemable Rogues

by Tanya Anne Crosby

  And dear God, so very, very much afraid.

  Christian was afire, and the sopping wet material of Jessie’s gown was soaking through his breeches. He longed to strip her naked and press her down into his soft bed, fall greedily upon her, ride her like the ruthless ruffian he was claimed to be. But he would not. He placed a hand to her waist, tugging gently at her rain-sodden gown. It slipped down just far enough to expose the creamy flesh of her breasts. He stood as though transfixed by the sight of her for the longest instant, and then his lips descended to her mouth.

  His kiss was gentle, coaxing, just a tiny teasing peck, and then another, and another, until her face was finally upturned, her lips trembling, waiting eagerly for more, beseeching him, even. He needed no further urging, he kissed her thoroughly, exploring the depths of her mouth with his tongue.

  Jessie’s legs would have given way, but Christian held her steady as his lips trailed searing kisses along her throat... to her breasts. He suckled them each in turn, lavishing the soft but firm flesh with tender care.

  Dropping to his knees, Christian kissed her thighs through her wet gown. His hands clutching at her cool, wet bottom, he drew the V of her body close to quench his burning lips against the rain-soaked gown.

  “Nay...” Her protest was a breathless gasp. She tried in vain to pull away, for he held her fast.

  Jessie was lost to him once again, but she didn’t care, couldn’t think to care. She quivered with pleasure as his lips worshiped her in places she’d never dreamed a man would want to taste.

  He groaned against the wet gown. “You are so blessed sweet…” He buried his cheek against her, and murmured again, “So sweet...” He slid up her body then, rising, stroking her provocatively as he went. He urged her to the bed and lowered her gently down upon it, and then merely stood there, towering over her, gazing down upon her with those fathomless blue eyes, and Jessie felt paralyzed. She swallowed convulsively, but was unable to contain her startle as his hands then slid upward, across the bulge in his breeches, to the top button of his trousers, popping it quickly, impatiently. Then, as she watched, he simply shrugged out of them, never taking his eyes from her as he did.

  Her breath caught at the sight of him.

  Grinning, he brought one knee down beside her, and the bed sank beneath his weight; then came the other until he was sitting gently astride her, careful not to crush her beneath him. And she continued to stare, both frightened and incredulous, at that peculiar male appendage that confronted her once again, for she vividly recalled the pain he had given her the first time.

  Jessie swallowed again as her gaze lifted to his in silent appeal. The candle positioned beside them left one side of his face deep in shadow and bathed the other in golden light, making him appear almost sinister. Lightning flickered for the briefest instant, illuminating his features fully.

  One last bow held Jessie’s gown together, and Christian reached for it, his blue eyes dancing with hypnotic fire. Very slowly, he peeled the rain-sodden garment from her body, then tossed it away. It landed with a wet thump upon the bare wood floor.

  The fierce determination in his blue eyes sent a shiver down her spine. His lips curving with sensual promise, he lowered them to her body, and again his mouth covered her breast, suckling first one nipple, then the other, and all the while he peered up at her seductively, silently pledging to her things that, strangely, her body seemed to comprehend—and even more, seemed to revel in.

  Moving with slow, easy finesse across her flesh, his hands affected her in ways she’d not thought possible. His fingers caressed her as though he would commit every inch of her to his memory, then slid beneath her, to rest between her shoulder blades, lifting her bodily to better taste of her. She quivered as his tongue swept across one nipple, then traced deliberate circles around it, before searching out the other.

  She moaned deep in her throat, and Christian drew her closer still, nibbling at her throat languidly. Some tortured sound escaped him then, a hiss that sent gooseflesh racing across Jessie’s skin.

  Tears stung her eyes. How could she want this so desperately if she loathed him so much? “Oh, God... I—I d-don’t understand what you d-do to me!”

  Between bold, fiery kisses and shocking caresses, he whispered, “’Tis not... so difficult... to comprehend... my love…”

  Her heart cried out at his endearment. But I am not your love. “You... you don’t love me,” she whispered brokenly. “Nor do I you,” she lied.

  Her honesty wrenched his gut.

  “Nay, but I want you,” he said, “and at the moment, wanting is quite enough, I assure you.” But was it the truth? he wondered, even as his hands sought the sweet, tantalizing wetness between her thighs. He thrust a finger within her body, preparing her.

  “Christian,” she sobbed.

  “Don’t talk anymore, Jessamine! Don’t say another bloody word!”

  Lord help her, though his words pierced her heart as surely as a blade, she was powerless to resist him. She wanted this. She wanted this so much...

  Taking his hand, she guided it boldly to her breast, and then reached out to tangle eager fingers into the crisp hair upon his chest.

  Slipping one warm knee between her trembling thighs, he nudged them apart, and then fell upon her, pressing himself slowly into the very depths of her. She was at once swept into a maelstrom of feeling and emotion.

  The heated place where their bodies had fused was now the only place she was fully aware of... there and her temple, where his whiskered jaw pressed against her face. His breath was ragged, and dear God, the explosive joining of their bodies made her mad with wanting.

  Meeting his powerful thrusts with her own eager ones, she allowed instinct to guide her now. Their bodies met, the rhythm almost as violent as the thunder and lightning ringing in her ears.

  Groaning with pleasure, Christian stroked her body with his own, giving her ecstasy in return. And when Jessie’s culmination came suddenly, shattering in its intensity, and she cried out her release, he was shocked to his core by her words.

  “Oh, God—I love you!” she sobbed, and her whispered declaration was followed with a tormented moan of pleasure. Then again, as though she could not quite help herself, she murmured obliviously, “I love you...”

  Christian’s entire body convulsed violently at her words, but he froze above her, the jolt to his heart painful. She tilted her hips and pressed against him, her body seeming to cry out for more, and again his heart leapt against his ribs.

  “Who am I?” He withdrew slightly, and then thrust forward, unable to keep himself from it. The arms that supported his weight trembled and threatened to give. Sweat erupted upon his brow. His voice was strained. “Speak my name—who is it you love?” Her eyes were closed against him.

  “You,” she cried out, still undulating softly beneath him. Tears slipped through her sooty lashes.

  Thunder cracked, drowning out her voice, but he held her crushed to him as she sobbed, losing his control, even his reason. Still, he needed to hear his name upon her lips, and he dared not stir, not wanting to miss her declaration. Amazingly, despite that he had stilled himself within her, he watched as she came to another soul-consuming completion. The incredible look of bewildered passion upon her face was his undoing.

  His hands swept down, seizing her buttocks, and he withdrew almost entirely, thrusting again, almost savagely, burying himself completely into her warmth. His body beset with spasms, he again held fast, needing her sweet words far more than his own release, afraid that she would give them and that he would miss them in the throes of his own white-hot climax.

  “Who?” he demanded, losing what was left of his control. He withdrew slowly, torturously. “Say it, Jessie! Say it!”

  Lightning erupted, its light brilliant white, but it was his oppressive need that blinded him to his surroundings. In the ensuing darkness, his ears strained to hear her words.

  “Christian,” she whispered, and his heart leapt with the
booming sound of thunder. Reveling in his victory, he surged forth with such ferocity, such fervor, such glee, that he cried out almost as though in pain. And in that soul-consuming instant, he poured more than his seed into her, he dared to give her everything—God, everything—including his soul.

  Chapter 26

  When the storm abated finally, Christian lay, reverently stroking her cheek with the back of his knuckles. He brushed the hair from her face. Through the balcony doors, he could see the sky brighten in the distance, but the sound of thunder never carried to his ears. He thought perhaps it was because his mind was still ringing with her confession. He listened closely, but could hear only her soft breath. She exhaled and it blew gently across the hairs of his arm, sending a delicious chill across his flesh, making him stir yet again. He ignored the insatiable hunger of his body for the yearnings of his heart.

  Had he imagined her sweet profession of love?

  Ah, Christ—he swallowed, battling the great sweep of emotion that threatened to crush his chest—he hoped not.

  He wanted nothing more than to wake her now and ask her, but he knew she was exhausted and he had no wish for her to sicken from the rain. And then again, he wished she’d never waken, that they could stay thus forever. Because once the morning came, he would have to tell her everything.

  Everything.

  He wanted nothing more between them—not lies, not half-truths, nothing. Yet, for the first time in his life, he feared the truth. His heart rebelled at the thought of telling her his most damning secret, for it might very well destroy the love between them forever...

  Even before it had begun.

  He closed his eyes and fell asleep some time later, holding Jessie close... as though to be certain she’d not leave him whilst he slept.

  God help him, he couldn’t bear to be without her.

  Morning light streamed through the balcony doors, falling short of the massive bed.

  Jessie stirred, stretching lazily, smiling, and then, as she seemed to remember, heat stained her cheeks. She opened her eyes to find Christian gazing down into her face, his eyes searching.

  “No need to feel ashamed,” he assured her, noting the color that bloomed upon her cheeks. He brushed a dark strand of hair from her face, gently, tenderly, wanting nothing more than to ask her now, but he was, by his own admission, afeared of her answer. Perhaps her love words were nothing more than nonsense uttered during the heat of passion?

  And then there was the lie between them.

  He couldn’t bring himself to speak the incriminating truth.

  “You asked me once,” he said, “why I chose to make Shadow Moss my home instead of Rose Park. I’d like to show you today, if you wish?”

  For a moment she said nothing, and then, “I’d like that very much.” Her eyes shone suspiciously.

  “First,” he whispered, giving her his most engaging grin, “there is something else I would show you.” If she would despise him... he wanted this one last time... this one last memory to carry him through.

  One arm encircled her waist and he drew her close against him, kissing the tip of her nose, her cheek, her closed eyelids, and her brow with a fever that could not be denied. She was so beautiful, and the feel of her warm bare flesh beneath him made his heart pound and his breath strangle. He refused to let her feel regret—refused to feel any himself.

  God’s truth, this morning he had not the stamina for foreplay, and when he found her wet and ready for him, it nearly unmanned him where he lay. He needed only to undulate into her softness and she opened to him willingly, wrapping her legs about his hips and closing her eyes.

  Sliding up, he entered her, and no sooner had he done so when she began to undulate softly of her own accord, instinctively, moaning beneath him. He held himself fast, letting her guide his strokes at first, but when her hands moved to his buttocks to urge him deeper into her sweet warmth, he at once lost his resolve.

  Driving himself into her, he loved her as though there were no tomorrow, as though in truth this were their last joining. Her nails dug painfully into his flesh and he reached back to grasp her hands, unable to bear the sweetness of it, bringing them above her head and holding them fast against the headboard. With a mindless fervor he withdrew and thrust, sweat breaking upon his brow, and still he held his own release until he felt her quiver and moan beneath him. The sweet sound of her release wrenched away the last vestiges of his restraint and he went headlong into his own climax, crying out savagely.

  The path that brought them to the stables was wide, with oaks lining both sides of it, their sweeping limbs arcing and meeting above them, forming a leafy underpass of sorts. It was fall, but the weather was so mild that the flora was still inclined to bloom.

  “’Tis lovely,” Jessie said with a sigh. “Truly lovely!”

  “Aye,” he agreed, pride in his tone. “Rose Park cannot begin to compare, though I swear there was a time when I was blind to this splendor. No more. I can see now, quite clearly, that I was not meant to make my home in England. Come now, there is more I would show you.” He took her firmly by the hand, releasing it only when they entered the stable itself.

  A youth came forth from the shadows, a straw broom in hand. “My lord, you wish to ride?” he asked, his brown eyes flashing with obvious admiration.

  “Aye, Peter, aye,” Christian replied. “Fetch my mount, if you would, and then give my lady the finest mare to be had—the bay, I think.”

  “Very well, m’lord.” When the fair-haired youth would have turned away, Christian stopped him with a gentle hand to his shoulder. “On second thought, she’ll ride with me... Leave off with the mare and simply fetch my own.” Turning to Jessie, he said, “The area is still somewhat unknown to me and I would not put you at risk.”

  Jessie nodded, though the thought of sitting so near him made her heart flutter wildly and her breath quicken painfully. Even now, in the full light of day, he affected her so.

  Peter brought forth from the stall a great black beast with a white streak blazing down its forehead. It was a beautiful specimen of a horse with eyes set wide apart and an exquisitely formed muzzle. The lad prepared the mount while they waited, and then led it outside. Its blue-black coat shone brightly in the daylight. Jessie followed them out, and Christian lifted her upon the animal without a word, mounting behind her, bringing her close against him as he urged the steed into a slow canter.

  Instead of taking her back through the tunnel of trees whence they’d come, he chose another path that led briefly through a dense thicket of pines.

  They rode in silence, and after some time, came to a clearing, a meadow so green and lush that it seemed chimerical. In the center of the grove stood the gutted remains of a brick building.

  She turned to him, her brow furrowing. “What is it?”

  He kissed her temple, smiling slightly, but said nothing until they’d circled the ruins, halting abruptly at what appeared to be the front steps. “It is the remains of someone’s home,” he answered at last. “Though whose, I cannot rightly know, but this land before us was the first site of Charlestown. ’Tis private property now, but have no fear, I know the holder.” He winked at her then.

  “Yours?”

  He chuckled softly. “Nay... at least not as yet, though it borders my land and the proprietor is presently weighing my offer for purchase. If he sells to me, it will give me access to Old Town Creek as well as the Ashley.”

  “Does he live here still?” Her curiosity was piqued.

  “Aye.” He pointed out a direction. “His plantation lies beyond that small copse of trees.”

  Jessie nodded, but could see nothing.

  Pointing out the river that glittered like diamonds on the horizon, he continued, “That was once known to us as St. George’s Bay, named so by the Spaniards, for the Indians themselves did not name the waters. They called this land Kayawah—all of it—after their tribe.” He hugged her as he spoke.

  He kissed her neck affectionately
and then his gaze lifted to the horizon. The tall grass grazed his boots, tickled the horse’s belly. The breeze riffled through them, lifting her hair into his face. Before them, the remains of the house were only partially visible through the weeds. Most of the masonry lay in ruin. Weeds and moss worked at the rest of the structure. Before long, if not taken into hand, the wilderness would reduce it to little more than piles of mortar and stone.

  “’Tis a beautiful, wild country, still in its birth,” he mused aloud, “and I mean to be a part of it, Jessie.”

  Jessie turned to him, hearing the note of pride in his voice, and saw that his eyes were glittering strangely with his words.

  Christian looked down into her face and smiled warmly, his harsh features softening into a wry grin as he scrutinized her. With his hair so dark and long, falling unbound behind him, Jessie thought he seemed as primitive as the very natives of whom he spoke.

  “’Tis an incredible feeling,” he admitted, “to be involved in the shaping of this wilderness—an experience I might never have known had I clung so stubbornly to Rose Park and to England. And that, mon amour, is the truth of it. I fear I’ve grown to love this savage place, for it suits me better than any I’ve known.”

  “I can well believe it.” Her tone held a smile.

  Unable to keep himself from it, Christian lowered his head and touched his whiskered jaw to her cheek, savoring the feel of her within his arms. He closed his eyes, hugging her, remembering her fire, and felt again that stirring of his blood. If he lived an eternity, he doubted he would ever have his fill of her. She was as beautiful and unmanageable as the wilds before them.

  He savored this moment with her. It was such blissful torment to hold her so close and not be able to love her as he yearned to do. It was just as well... for there was that which needed to be said between them, and he could not bear to delay the inevitable any longer.