“It seems to me that when my brother Thomas died, a part of my father died as well. You see, he was of the mind that Thomas was the perfect one; Thomas was his hope; Thomas was the wise one; he was courageous and diligent. And yet... Amos was the one most like him. I never understood why my father seemed so displeased by him, nor why he thought him unsuited to the dukedom.”
Christian’s jaw clenched visibly. “And so you would have me believe he would end his life because he lost his best son, and thus give the dukedom all the sooner to his most unworthy? I find that hard to credit, Jessamine.”
“So do I,” she agreed. “But you didn’t know him as I did, and I tell you true that when my eldest brother died, so, too, did my father’s will to live. I saw the change in him from the very instant he was apprised of Thomas’ death—not even my mother’s passing affected him so.”
“Still...”
“Nay! You did only what you felt you must, and the truth is that I might well have done the same given your circumstances. None of it matters anymore.”
“The devil it doesn’t.”
Jessie stood there before him, her hands clasping and unclasping at her sides, angry tears glistening in her eyes. “What do you wish me to say? Do you wish to hear that I despise you, after all? Do you truly wish to know my hatred when you can know my love instead? Nay, but I can lie to myself no longer—nor to you! I cannot!” she cried with feeling. “’Tis impossible! Sweet Lord—do not ask me to deny what I feel, because I cannot! I love you, Christian,” she told him, her eyes misting.
He stared at her a long moment, and then said, as though he’d not heard a word she’d spoken, “The unfinished wing...” His voice broke. He turned from her, staring down below, leaning against the railing as he watched the men work. “No sooner had it been constructed when it was destroyed by fire. Did you know that, Jess?”
Jessie blinked at his words, staring at his back as though he were mad. Her heart felt as though it were wrenching. How could he change the subject so completely, all but ignoring her declaration of love? “Fire?” she repeated. Good God, what did she care about that now? “I... I didn’t know,” she relented, discomposed now. “Th-There are no signs... The walls are not—Good Lord, Christian!” she cried, shaking her head at the absurdity of their conversation. “Whatever has this to do—”
“Originally,” he said, without bothering even to glimpse over his shoulder at her, “my chamber was in that burned wing.” He continued to watch the workmen below, and Jessie felt like flying at him and striking her fist upon his back, screaming like a madwoman.
She swallowed, dosing her eyes. He didn’t love her... couldn’t... “Really?” she replied, and choked down a sob.
“I learned yesterday that it was burned apurpose. McCarney admitted to it.” There was a moment of silence as Jessie weighed his words before he continued. “He was somewhat emboldened by my arrest, I assume. He confessed to starting the blaze while I slept in revenge for something I’d done to his brother. It was an accident Jessamine; flash fire. I didn’t kill him, though I might as well have. I didn’t stop it, either. He was no more than a boy. I should have put a halt to it at once. You see, he was afraid of the cannons, and I thought I was doing him a favor by allowing the crew to force him into firing a volley. He had to learn—he wanted to. God’s truth, he needed to learn. But the men were more drunk than I realized; they misloaded the gun.” He was silent a long moment. “I didn’t realize McCarney still held me responsible, but I might have known, for it took me a long time to acquit myself.”
He shook his head. “’Tis been more than three months since the fire and I’ve had the bricks scrubbed. I’d had it in mind to leave them their natural color, you see, but they had to be whitewashed. It doesn’t really look so bad as I thought it might.” He turned to face her, his eyes gleaming strangely. “What do you think?”
She thought he must be daft! Her brows collided. “I’m sorry. ‘Tis beautiful, Christian—did you not hear me?”
“Tell me, Jess,” he broke in once more, smiling slightly now.
“Did you not hear me?”
“Can you see yourself as mistress here?”
Jessie’s temper rose. “Can I—” And then his question penetrated, and her jaw dropped. She clamped her mouth shut, not entirely certain she’d heard correctly. Gazing skeptically into his face, at his lopsided grin, she ceased to breathe entirely. She was terrified to voice the question, but forced herself. “Did you... did you just ask me to marry you?”
He nodded, and her heart tripped. “Not for the first time, I fear. I only hope you’ll reply more positively than did your brother.” He smiled at her then.
Jessie was momentarily stunned by his disclosure. Her brows rose and her heart soared. “You asked Amos for my—”
“I did.”
“He... he told me you had not! He said you’d come only because he’d paid you!”
“To begin with, it was true,” he confessed, his tone soft and laden with guilt. “But after having met you, Jessie, nay.” He shook his head. “In truth, I never intended to follow through with it... Curiosity, and curiosity alone, prompted me to accept when I wanted nothing more than to batter your brother’s agent to a bloody nub instead. But you see, I never considered I would fall in love with you,” he admitted, coming forward. He closed the distance between them. Jessie’s heart lurched as he reached out to brush her hair back from her face. He cupped her chin, lifting it to his gaze. “Do you remember that I did not return for some time... and you wondered that I had gone?” His eyes glistened suspiciously. “The truth is that I never intended to see you again, only I was drawn back... even against my will—God, you were so beautiful... so very beautiful...” He bent his head to brush her lips with his own.
Jessie closed her eyes. “Christian,” she murmured, and he kissed her again, gently, his tongue coaxing her lips, and delving within as he lifted her up into his arms. He carried her within his chamber. Jessie clung to him, her heart beating fiercely.
Halting before the bed, holding her possessively, he whispered against her hair, “Jessamine Stone, will you do me the honor of becoming my bride?”
Unable to speak, Jessie nodded, burying her face into his shirt, drenching it with her joyful tears.
“I love you,” he swore. “Always have, always will...”
God only knew—how long had she waited to hear those words? How much grief had she suffered and caused for them? Her eyes were liquid with tears as she gazed up into his face. At last she was unafraid to face the truth, unafraid to give her love, and her heart swelled with joy unlike any she’d ever known. “And I,” she whispered fiercely, “have always, always, loved you, too!”
He lifted a brow. “Always?”
She wrapped her arms about his neck and drew his face down to hers. “I love you, Christian... and yes,” she murmured, “always.”
“And?” He kissed her throat with promise.
For a moment Jessie couldn’t speak, didn’t understand what it was he was asking, and then she did at last, and sighed contentedly. “Yes, my lord, I can see myself as mistress here.”
“Gators and all?”
Jessie shuddered. “Nay,” she said with a wan smile and a trace of good humor, “those, you must send away!”
He grinned. “And if I cannot?”
She sighed. “Well, then... I suppose I shall have to learn to live with them, after all!”
“Ah,” he said waggishly, “then you do love me!” His smile deepened and he chuckled with unbridled pleasure as he lowered her to the bed.
Epilogue
“Jessamine!”
Jessie laughed as she bolted across the bedroom. Her slender body thoroughly enshrouded within the sheets from their bed, she ignored her husband’s lighthearted rebuke. He feigned a charge, but she dodged him easily enough, despite the fact that she tripped over the tail of her blanket. She had the distinct suspicion her husband was merely allowing her to escape him, for he
might have overtaken her any number of times already. He dove suddenly, tackling the floor instead of her legs, and Jessie scrambled towards the bed, laughing, tripping over her white train and landing unceremoniously upon the bed.
She stood at once, shifting her weight from foot to foot as though to leap away, but Christian merely sat upon the floor, watching her, his eyes twinkling and his sensual lips curving with unconcealed pleasure. “Jessie, love, ‘tis been months now... There is nothing you would hide from me that I’ve not already seen. Come,” he coaxed, his voice turning husky. “Spare my bones the chase.”
“Nay,” she said with an impish smile, “you mistake me, for I’ve no wish to hide a’tall.”
To prove her point, she suddenly dropped the sheets from her body. They slid slowly down the length of her, and she sighed at the way her husband watched so hungrily. “’Tis simply that I would have you listen to me... now... before neither of us can think clearly any longer.”
He chuckled at her brazenness. “And so you would torture me that I might listen to you?” Jessie nodded, and he laughed outright. “How very cruel of you, you little vixen. Very well, I’m completely at your mercy. Still... I think I should make you a sweet little bargain, if you would.” He rose, approached the bed cautiously, and perched upon the edge. When she remained, looking interested, he reached out to stroke her bare calf with his fingers.
Jessie’s heartbeat quickened as he caressed her; his fingers moved slowly up her thigh. Trying not to forget herself with the pleasure his touch promised, she said breathlessly, “The bargain, husband?”
He flashed her a roguish grin and lifted a devilish brow. “Sit here upon my lap, so that I might pleasure you while you speak your mind.”
She seemed skeptical, so he snatched her into his arms, and cradled her within his lap. His fingers skimmed her belly as he whispered into her ear, “Now, speak to me, if you would... if you can...”
“You take unfair advantage! I cannot think when you touch me so!”
He flashed her a satisfied smile. “If I torture you, my lovely wife, then I torture myself all the more, for I want nothing more this instant than to lay you back upon this bed of ours and love you madly. Are you certain you wish to talk?” He raised his brows in question.
Jessie smiled coyly. “Alas,” she replied, sighing dramatically, “but we must, you see.” She hesitated a moment, and announced, “I wish you to speak with Jean Paul today.”
“God’s bloody teeth! Not this again!” He made to drop her.
“Nay! But he’s your father!” she protested at once, and he lifted her up. “I shall never understand the two of you—both of you aware the other knows, but neither willing to admit the truth of the matter! Really! I simply cannot comprehend such mulishness!”
“Can you not?” he asked with a crinkle at the corners of his eyes. He sighed then. “Aye, I shall speak to him, in due time. And ’tis you who is the stubborn one, I fear, for bringing this up yet again.” He winked at her to soften his rebuke, and murmured, smacking her thigh, “Even so, mon amour, je t’aime.”
Jessie waved a hand at him crossly, scarcely missing the tip of his nose. “And I love you! But there’s no more time! I’d have my children know their grandsire for who he is, and not merely as your captain. You must tell him!” She cocked her head at him then, narrowing her eyes. “Do you take my meaning?”
He froze. “Are you?” She nodded. “Now?”
She smiled. “I cannot believe you’ve failed to notice!”
“And I cannot believe you’d frolic with me so carelessly when you’re carrying my child! Have you been ill?”
She lifted a brow, in much the same manner he liked to do, and asked pertly, “Do I seem ill to you?” He shook his head. “There is simply... shall we say... a roundness to me now that is quite difficult to overlook,” she pointed out.
He laid her gently back upon their bed to better inspect her. “How imperceptive of me,” he muttered with a frown. “I suppose I shall have to remedy that at once!” When his mouth suddenly lit upon her belly, Jessie squealed and tried to wriggle free of his embrace.
“You would look with your lips?” she asked, scandalized, laughing softly.
“Aye, my love, for I see very well with them, indeed...” He tried once more, and this time she arched backward for him, her eyes closing with unabashed pleasure.
She sighed. “Yes,” she murmured in agreement, “you certainly do... Look again if you please...”
Later, in the drawing room, the argument continued. “You’ll tell him now, won’t you?”
“God’s teeth, Jessamine! I said I would!”
She frowned at him. “You never call me Jessamine!”
He locked his hands behind his back and peered at her, eyeing her pointedly. “I do now.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because you’re an impudent little wench!”
“Aye, well, it cannot be helped! I should remind you that you’ve promised near a dozen times before and never have spoken to him yet!”
He grunted, turning from the window long enough to give his wife a thoroughly disgruntled glance. “I shall tonight,” he promised, and turned to peer out the window once more to see that Ben and Jean Paul were approaching the house.
“Christ,” he muttered. “Here they come—sit, Jessamine! And don’t you speak another blessed word!”
Undaunted, Jessie sat upon the blue damask settee to await Jean Paul and her cousin’s entrance, eager for the scene to come. Her gaze wandered while she waited. The house was complete at last, the rooms furnished, some sparsely, others richly. This room was particularly grand, the ceiling high, and from the center hung a great ironwork candelabra. Two spiral staircases led abovestairs, one to each wing. The floor was polished oak, with an immense woven carpet stretched across its length. By the hearth sat two gold damask chairs along with the settee Jessie now occupied. She oft imagined them, she and Christian, sitting here along with their children, enjoying a blazing fire in winter. Soon it would be so.
She sighed, for so much had transpired since that day upon the Ashley. Lord St. John’s body had never been found, though the river had been dredged. She tried not to think of that much, for in truth, there was much to be thankful for in St. John’s death. It was a dreadful end for any man, one that she wouldn’t have wished upon anyone, but the fact remained that if Lord St. John had lived, Christian might have hung for the sins of Hawk. She couldn’t have borne that.
With the changing tide, Daniel Moore had fled to England in fear of his life... and there were whispers of war in the air. She tried not to think of them either. Many had chosen to return to England—McCarney included—before the tide turned completely. Jessie sighed, watching her husband at the window, thrusting the dark thoughts aside. For the time being, Hawk did not exist, there was only Christian, husband to her, and father to their unborn child.
The door swung open and both Jean Paul and Ben entered, wiping their boots upon the threshold. Jessie frowned at them, and considered rebuking them for the mess they created between them, but she sat patiently instead, her gaze reverting to Christian. He stood watching her, scowling really, and she lifted a brow in question.
“I haven’t done or said anything yet!” she apprised him. “Now, have I?”
“Faugh!” Jean Paul exclaimed as he came within. “Lies, all lies, I tell you!”
Jessamine shared a look with her husband and laughed softly. Some things had changed; some things remained the same. More oft than not, Ben and Jean Paul were at one another’s throats.
“If you say so, old man,” Ben yielded, “though I’m glad ’tis your own hide you risk, not mine!”
She smiled at that and said pertly, “Please! Do come in! Quickly! Quickly!”
“Jessamine,” Christian warned, eyeing her sternly.
Jessie ignored him, smiling brightly. “My husband has something he wishes to say to Jean Paul before the two of you commence to butchering one another.”
“Jessamine!” Christian said. “Allow me, if you please!”
She sat, but her smile remained and was contagious. Ben found himself grinning as he came to sit beside her. Taking her hand, he patted it affectionately.
Jean Paul stood, staring expectantly not more than two feet from his son. Christian, on the other hand, seemed to be pleading with her, or perhaps he was glaring at her and Ben. She couldn’t tell. When she returned his regard with a saucy smile, he grimaced and turned to face his father.
“’Tis my wife,” he began sourly, his face coloring slightly. He shifted uncomfortably. “I... she—” His voice faltered. “Damn it all, I! I would have you know...” He swallowed, turning to meet Jessie’s gaze briefly before continuing. “I would have you know... that you... you are soon to become a grandfather,” he finished scarcely loud enough for Jean Paul to hear.
It didn’t matter; one might have heard a mouse walk in a room as silent as this one had become. He took a deep breath and lifted his chin, looking more like a little lost boy than Jessie knew he would have liked. “What think you of that, old man?”
Jessie’s heart swelled with pride for him, but she held her breath, waiting for Jean Paul’s reply.
Jean Paul turned to Jessie, seeming to understand that she was the one responsible for this long-awaited acknowledgment. His eyes glittered suspiciously. And then, in a sweeping moment that brought tears to her eyes, he turned to Christian and said, choking on his words, “You make me proud, son!” Further words failed him and he moved forward, daring to embrace Christian.
Tentatively at first, Christian returned the hug, unsure of what to do, what to say. His grimace held a wealth of emotions, Jessie knew. Even so, the arms embracing him were not so easy to refuse, and finally he was clasping his father with as much force as was offered. Jean Paul peeled himself away, patting Christian’s shoulder, seeming embarrassed now by his show of affection.
Unable to bear not being a part of the hug, Jessie laughed and hugged Ben beside her. Ben reacted rather startled at first, looking quickly to Christian, and then again to Jessie. After another instant, he returned her hug somewhat cautiously and bent to whisper in her ear. “Felicitations, sweet coz! I shall carry the news to Mother and Father. They shall be del—”
Three Redeemable Rogues Page 51
