"Perhaps not," she said in a shaky, quiet voice. "Forgive the intrusion, it was foolish of me to think...well...foolish of me to come."
Justin blew out a sigh and reached for her arm before she could turn and retreat down the stairs. "Come. I will behave if you will."
Her eyes were flooded with tears when she looked up at him; big and blue, they were swimming with disappointment and he sighed again. "Please. Come up."
She allowed him to keep hold of her arm as she went up the stairs and along to the room he had been occupying. It was small and cramped with too much furniture in too little a space. There was a wardrobe and washstand, a sea chest opened to a jumble of odd clothes, a desk and chair buried under books and papers. And a bed. The latter was rumpled and unmade, bringing a blush of pink into China's cheeks despite the chill that went straight through to her bones. There was an empty bottle of wine lying on it's side by the bed, another half empty by the washstand. The basin was filled with pink-tinged water and there was a pile of discarded, bloody bandages on the floor.
Justin closed the door and stripped off his jacket, wincing as he drew the pistol out of his waistband and set it on the desk. The sleeve of his injured arm was rolled partway up and it appeared as though he had been in the process of bandaging the wound again when he was interrupted. There was wad of torn cotton by the bed, which he picked up and awkwardly started to roll around his forearm.
Though she had not been invited to do so, China unfastened the heavy drag of wet wool from around her neck and hung the cloak over the footboard of the bed. She went to Justin's side, wordlessly took the wad of cotton out of his hand and started to slowly, carefully bind his wound.
"I had to find you," she said at length.
"In that you have succeeded."
"I didn't know where else to look, and I...I wanted to see you before I left."
Justin tipped his head a little, but her own was bowed in concentration as she wrapped the strips of cotton and he could not see her face. "Left? You are going somewhere?"
She nodded. "Back home. To Devonshire. I am not going through with the wedding. And no, before you laugh or make a joke of it, my decision has nothing to do with what happened this morning. I had made up my mind last night, and was going to tell him today."
Justin tucked his forefinger under her chin, forcing her to tip her head up. "Why?"
"Wh-why?" She swallowed hard, aware of how close he was standing, how completely his face, his eyes seemed to fill her vision, blocking out everything else. "I don't love him. I don't believe I could ever love him. I--"
"Yes?"
Her voice faltered a moment because he was turning her slowly around to face him. "I only came to tell you because...because once Ranulf finds my note and realizes I've left Braydon Hall, he'll--"
"He'll undoubtedly come after you. He may be a brute and a fool, but he's not stupid. He knows your worth, Miss China Rose Grant, and he's not about to let you slip away so easily. I know I wouldn't, if I were him."
China's eyes flickered to the side, for his hands had come up and were pushing aside the dark, wet strands of her hair. His thumbs were tracing down her cheeks and his fingers were slipping along her neck, cradling it, tipping her head even higher.
She seemed to have lost all ability to speak, even to think.
"You have placed yourself in a very compromising position," he murmured. "I believe I have warned you often enough of the consequences."
"Oh. But...but..."
She saw the smile curve his lips as they came closer, covering hers, claiming hers. They were so warm, so gentle, that for a sweetly breathtaking moment she forgot where she was. She closed her eyes and swayed against him. Her lips parted willingly, almost eagerly to the taste of him. His fingers raked deeper into her hair as his mouth slanted down harder, and China felt the chill leave her body in a sudden, hot flaring of desire. She knew what he was doing, knew what he was proving could happen to a foolish, naive girl who had ignored his warnings and come to play with fire. She also realized that for once in her life, she did not care.
The agonies and all of the inner frustrations she had been struggling with these past two weeks were nothing to her now. Nothing mattered beyond the world of Justin's arms. He was bringing something to life inside her, something she had waited and hoped for but never dreamed would happen.
Her arms, her hands reached up to cling to him, and she pressed herself eagerly into his hard body. She welcomed the demanding thrusts of his tongue, answering them recklessly, uncaring of where it would lead her, heedless of the sudden tension building in his body, or of the fact his hands had lowered to her shoulders and were actually pushing her away, holding her out to arm's length.
She gasped as their mouths broke apart and the kiss ended. She searched his face with bright, shining eyes, her newborn desire giving way to confusion. There was a struggle of some sort going on behind the cavalier mask he normally presented, and she held her breath, feeling as though she was poised on the edge of some vast, deep precipice.
Justin knew he should send her away. He hadn't believed Weasel when the boy said there was a china rose waiting for him in the tavern. He had not believed his own eyes when he saw her standing there, wet and bedraggled, yet glowing in the crowded room like a soft, pale candle. Sarcasm had always been his first line of defense, sometimes his second and third as well, but try as he might, he could not muster it now. He knew he should say something, anything to shock and frighten her into running away as far and as fast as she could go. But he had tried that on the steps and the tearful look of disappointment in her eyes had nearly brought him to his knees.
The tension in his outstretched arms relented. He drew her slowly back into his embrace and kissed her forehead, her eyebrows, her eyelids. He kissed her temples and her cheeks, claiming her lips last and longest, and this time there was no mistaking where the embrace would lead.
The buttons on her bodice were released one by one. China did not move, did not speak or attempt to stop him in any way. She only parted her lips wider, granting him full and deep access to the madness that was stripping her of her senses and spinning her dizzily into newfound passion.
The bodice fell, the skirt crumpled around her ankles. The lacings of her corset were plucked free, the soft ribboned closure of her chemise capitulated without contest. Each step of the way her sighs became weaker, her whimpers fainter; both changed into something entirely different when his mouth left hers to traveled down the length of her throat and follow the searching warmth of his hands.
She was slipping. A blind and unexpected longing took hold of her and she clawed her hands into his hair, gasping as his lips closed around a nipple and suckled it possessively into his mouth. Her knees gave way with a helpless shudder but Justin was already lifting her, sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her to the bed. Gentleness gave way to his own needs and urgency as he loosened, coaxed, fumbled with and finally pushed aside the remaining barriers of her clothing.
His trousers followed and China felt his weight press between her thighs. Her world darkened briefly and for the length of one deep lungful of air, she suffered a pang of fear as sharp and frightening as any she'd experienced. The breath was expelled, the fear along with it, replaced with a wet, sliding pleasure as he pushed freely, deeply inside her. A groan brought his head down into the crook of her shoulder and he remained still, not moving, letting her body adjust to the startling sensation of being filled, stretched, impaled. His hands slid down to her hips, cradling them as he started to move, pulling back and thrusting forward, back and forward again.
China cried out softly, her hands clutching his shoulders. Her limbs flared wider of their own accord and still he thrusted, thrusted, thrusted...the strokes starting to quicken, started to stretch deeper. The exquisite tension built inside her, her muscles seeming to gather and tighten until she no longer needed his guidance to arch up and move into each hard stroke of his flesh...flesh that swept her headlong i
nto mindless spasms of ecstasy. They were hotter, purer, wilder than anything she could have imagined and became even more so when she felt Justin's body stiffen, plunge, and throb deeply inside of her. She was seared by a flame burning along every inch where their bodies touched, through every nerve that flared and exploded, every droplet of sweat and passion that mingled.
Gasping, his muscles still taut and straining, Justin remained locked to her, riding out the shocks and ripples of pleasure, waiting until each clenching little muscle shivered to a halt and released him. The tensioned drained from his body in a rush and he kissed the arch of her neck, the soft hollow at the base of her throat, her chin, her lips. He gently eased the grip on her hips and slid his hands higher, pressing them flat on the mattress and lifting himself up onto his elbows.
China's eyes were closed. Wisps of black hair clung in wet circlets to the pale skin of her temples and forehead. Her lashes lay on her cheeks like dark feathers. Hands that had been digging into his shoulders only moments before, slid down his arms and fell open and limp on the bedding.
A strange and unwelcome sensation began to flood through him: guilt. He was not one to apologize for his passions or to regret taking advantage of someone in his thrall. Not until now, at any rate. And for the first time in his long and colorful life, he did not know quite how to deal with it.
Especially when the sky blue eyes opened and she smiled hesitantly up at him.
Justin eased himself upright. When he caught a glimpse of the faint smear of pink on her thigh, his mouth set in an even grimmer line. A virgin, no less, and not even that had stopped him.
He swung his long legs over the side of the bed and raked his hands through his hair, swearing softly in self-disgust. He reached for the half-full bottle of wine and took a deep swallow straight from the mouth of it.
"Justin--?"
He felt her cool fingers on his arm and shook his head. "Miss Grant, I would strongly advise you to dress with all due haste and take your leave of me before I do something else foolish and unconscionable."
"Foolish and--? Oh no...no." She sat up and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. "You have done nothing to blame yourself for. If anyone was foolish it was me for coming here today. I think I knew what would happen if I did. I knew and...and I may even have wanted it to happen."
This last came out as a whisper and Justin turned his head to look at her.
"If that is the wrong way to feel," she added, "and a terribly shameless thing to admit, well then I must be wrong and terrible and shameless because I am admitting it."
"You don't know what you're saying."
"I know very well what I am saying, Justin Cross, and I do wish people would stop treating me like some addle-witted country bumpkin."
He almost smiled at that. "You don't know me either. You don't know who I am or what I am."
"I know more than I want to know," she countered evenly. "You're a highwayman and a slaver, a flirt and a womanizer, an excellent manipulator of the truth when it suits you, and a man who does not care two farthings what anyone thinks or says about him. I know all of that and yet you were the first one I thought to find when I left Braydon Hall."
"Well... 'all of that' is not all true. And I do care what some people think. I care very much."
"Meaning me?" she asked on a breath.
"China--" He sighed and shook his head again. "This is the wrong time, the wrong place, and I am so very much the wrong man for you."
"Very well. If you tell me to leave right now, I shall. If you tell me you never want to see me again, I shall believe you because you told me once that you would never lie to me. That is all I ask from you now, Justin. All I will ever ask. My truth is that you were right all along and I should have listened to you that first night when you told me to run back to Devon where I belong. But I didn't and I'm here now and I've loved you and I'm not sorry. And if you don't want me just tell me and I will go."
Justin watched as two huge tears collected along her lashes and spilled slowly down her cheeks.
Not want you, he thought, my God...you could very well be my salvation.
He reached his hand around and laced his fingers through hers, bringing her hand up to his lips.
"What am I to do with you?" he asked with quiet bemusement. "What do I do with a headstrong woman who does not have the sense to know that what she is asking for, what she is rushing into so blithely could very well destroy her? Think of it China. Think of the whispers and the gossips, the rumormongers who will brand you a whore and harlot. There are indeed things about me, about my past that you don't understand; things you will hear that you won't want to know."
"I don't care. I really don't care what others think."
"But you should care," he said angrily and cupped her face in his hands. "Dear God, I care. And if it was any other time, and I was any other man..."
"I don't want any other man," she whispered. She raised those glorious blue eyes to his and it was his undoing. Her arms tightened around his shoulders and she dragged his mouth down to hers. She pulled him back onto the bed beside her and with a final sigh, he filled his hands with her softness and surrendered to his own foolish hopes.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Justin was kissing her. His hands were on her breasts, teasing soft, quivery whimpers out of her arched throat when an insistent knock shook the thin wooden panel of the door.
Justin's head jerked up instantly, leaving China to gasp, "Who--?"
He pressed a finger over her lips, cautioning her to silence. He was off the bed and standing by the door, a pistol raised and cocked before she could scramble fully upright.
"Who is it?" Justin asked.
"Me. Ted Bates."
Justin eased from his stance. The pistol was returned to the top of the bed stand and he yanked opened the door without any apparent concern for his state of undress.
"You had better have a damned good reason for interrupting, Mr. Bates."
"We've got trouble. Bad trouble."
Justin opened the door wider. China cried out a protest and dove under the covers, pulling the sheets up until just her eyes and the tip of her nose were exposed. The newcomer barely glanced her way before launching into an urgent, muffled conversation. She could not hear much of what was said, but from the increasingly black look on Justin's face, she presumed the news was, indeed, not good.
When Bates ran out of words and breath, Justin continued to stare at him in disbelief.
"Did you hear what I said?" Bates asked, louder this time. "We've only got a few minutes before the cobbers get here and you had best not be within spitting distance when they do. We have to get away, back to the ship'd be the safest. They won't dare search for you there, not if we put men on the docks. They'll need to work up a bit o' courage before they come searching on board the Reunion."
"You said murder. Are you certain of it?"
"Aye, it were murder. And your brother has posted a reward of a hundred quid on your head."
"Ranulf!" Justin was jolted a second time. "Ranulf has posted a reward?"
"Aye. Dead or alive, he's not particular."
The two men heard a startled cry and turned. Justin, at any rate, had totally forgotten about China.
"What has happened? What is he talking about? Why has Ranulf--?"
"Never mind that. You need to get dressed. Now. Quickly! I don't have time to explain anything, but we have to get out of here." He started pulling on his breeches. "Ted, I'll have to trust you to see that she gets away safely. Fuck!" He stopped and looked at China again. "You said you left a note telling Ran you were leaving...where were you planning to go if you couldn't find me?"
"I...I have friends. The Pickthalls. They will take me in."
"Okay, Pickthalls it is, you should be safe enough there."
"Sir." Ted Bates leaned forward with a cautionary look on his grizzled face. "You might not want to be doing that. Not just yet anyroad. At least half a hundred folk saw her come in here. The
y heard her name clear as a bell and they saw her come up the stairs two hours ago and not come down again. Lord Cross won't be too pleased with that, not one bit. He'll be wantin' to ask her all manner of questions."
"Damnation! You're right, of course." Justin raked his fingers through his hair and turned to China again. "You will have to come with us, for the time being anyway. Quickly now. Finish dressing."
Since she had not even started, there was an added bite to his voice and China was spurred into action. She dragged half the bedding with her as she plucked her clothing off the floor. The men, thankfully, moved out to the hallway to afford her a bit of modest privacy and she could hear them talking, planning, debating, deciding what to do.
Justin was being sought for murder? Who was he supposed to have killed? And when?
Her fingers froze on the buttons of her bodice.
The pie man! Oh my good sweet God, the pie man is dead!
Ranulf must have found out about the attack outside the inn the other night and was now making good on his threat to deal with Justin as he saw fit.
The low murmur of voices stopped and Justin came back into the room. He was fully dressed but for his coat, which he pulled on with an obvious wince after tucking a long-snouted pistol into his waistband. His arm, bandaged and seemingly of small concern throughout their lovemaking, was showing fresh spots of red through the cotton. He glanced hastily around the room, spied the one thing he wanted from amongst his scattered possessions, then grabbed China's cloak off the chair and bundled it around her shoulders. As he fastened the woven frog under her chin he smiled crookedly.
"You said you did not care what things you might learn about me. I hope you meant it, because I'm afraid you are about learn a great deal more than you bargained for."
China had no response. She felt his lips brush over hers briefly but it was a quick, perfunctory gesture. Her cloak was still damp from the soaking earlier and sat heavy on her shoulders, but she did not think that was the only thing weighing her down at the moment. If it was indeed the pie man who had died of his injuries, then she, China Grant, was once more the cause of all Justin's troubles.
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