“How do you mean?” she asked.
He stared up at the ceiling and ran his thumb over her bare shoulder. “I mean that from my vantage point, there is no one else in the world who cares anything for me. I have no thoughts of any loved ones to give me a sense of importance. I feel as if I could draw my last breath tomorrow, and no one would notice or care. Except for you.”
She leaned up on one elbow. “But that is not true. I would not be the only one. That is only what you feel because you cannot recall any of those people who care for you. In reality, they do exist and are probably sick with worry and searching for you this very moment. You just don’t know it.”
She kissed him tenderly on the mouth, then lay back down again, thinking about all the friends and acquaintances he must have, the siblings and cousins, uncles and aunts and parents.
Somewhere in a hidden place inside her, jealousy surfaced, because those people would know so much more about him than she did—for she knew nothing, only that he could be whisked away from her tomorrow, like a leaf on the wind, if someone arrived to claim him.
But that was selfish, she knew. It was wrong to think such things, to resent those people in his life, so she closed her eyes and strove to strengthen her heart just a little and enjoy this without feeling too deeply, for she did not know how long it would last.
“I want to remember my life,” he said, still stroking her shoulder, “but at the same time I do not. What if I don’t like it? What if I am vindictive or dishonest, or at odds with a family I despise? What if I am married to a woman I hate?”
She leaned up on her elbow again and listened to his fears with secret apprehensions of her own.
“Or a woman you love,” she added.
His expression stilled and grew serious. “That almost seems like a worse possibility.”
“Because you would always have to live with the knowledge that you were unfaithful to her.”
Because of me, and this thing I have done. She grew uneasy.
“Yes.”
“But you don’t behave like a married man,” she reminded him, hoping to ease his mind, as well as her own—for what would she do if he did have a wife? She had taken that possibility very lightly before, when she decided to enter into this affair. She had stuck her head in the sand, shutting her eyes against all the possible consequences that might cause pain in the future.
She had not wanted to face any of that. All she’d wanted was to become this beautiful stranger’s lover and therefore escape her marriage to Lord Jerome. Clearly she had been superficial in her thinking. She had not known how profound or vulnerable her emotions would become in such a short time.
“No, that’s right,” he replied as he raised his hand to rub at his forehead. “Nor do I feel like a married man. But I am quite certain I do have responsibilities. Just in the last few minutes, I’ve begun to feel some concern, as if I am supposed to be somewhere or be doing something, and that it might be urgent.”
She frowned. “Last night you said you understood about duties and responsibilities, and you were happy to help me defy my mother. Perhaps you have been avoiding this urgent thing for the same reason—because you do not want to do it.”
“I suppose only time will provide the answers to those questions. Otherwise,” he said with a more lighthearted sigh, “you will be stuck with me.”
She kissed him on the chest and smiled, and let her heart fall open, just for a moment. One moment, that was all. “I can think of worse things.”
But as she lay her head back down on his shoulder, her mind fluttered with anxiety, because this was the first time he had shown any signs of recollection. He was suspicious that there was an urgent duty he must attend to. It weighed upon his conscience.
If that was so, and he remembered what it was and felt compelled to leave, it would mean the abrupt end of their affair.
But that was not all. There was also the unalterable fact that she had already given her word to Sebastian and Melissa that if she became pregnant with this man’s child, she would send him away without ever telling him, and give the child up to be raised by them.
She had been very wrong to think that this plan would be straightforward or easy. It was nothing of the sort. Her emotions were involved, as well as her conscience, and she suspected that in the coming weeks she was going to have a very difficult time with this plan she had concocted. She would have to think very carefully about how best to resolve it. Or back away from it completely.
Just before dawn, Chelsea woke to the sound of a bird chirping outside the window, and knew she would soon have to leave and return to her own room before the servants were up and about.
She did not want to leave. She wanted to remain here in her lover’s arms, and make love with him all day until they couldn’t breathe, move, or even think anymore.
Despite her fears and apprehensions—or perhaps because of them—last night had been the most incredible night of her life, surpassing even the previous one, which seemed, at the time, the summit of all pleasures. The first night had been the end of her virginity, after all, and therefore changed her life forever.
But last night she’d immersed herself more deeply in her emotions, for she did not know how long this would last and wanted to experience everything more fully. There were no words to describe the rapture she had known, not only when they were making love, but also while they were talking or simply holding each other, listening to the waves outside the window.
She had been consumed not only by pleasure and desire, but by a profound mixture of joy and sorrow that made her realize how much of life she’d been missing. She had not known it was possible to feel so much, to want to laugh and cry, all at the same time, and despite her fears and regrets, her self-reproach and misgivings, she was grateful for this emotional experience. Last night she finally realized how dead she had been over these past seven years, living through the characters in her stories, and this morning she felt reborn.
She was also feeling shamelessly aroused—again—and could not resist the pull to touch Jack. She slid her hand across to where he lay stretched out on his back, gorgeously nude under the sheet. He appeared to be in a deep slumber, for he was breathing softly, so she began to stroke him.
At the first light touch of her hand, he turned his head slightly on the pillow and let out a quiet, low moan. Chelsea continued to toy with his impressive masculine anatomy, which was increasing in size and stiffness with every devoted caress she offered.
His hand came up, cupped her head and guided her down across his chest, pushing gently on her shoulder until her lips were almost touching the place where he was most eager for her attentions.
Recalling how he had kissed and tongued her the first night and driven her to the highest peaks of human ecstasy, she took him in her mouth and slid her tongue down the length of his erection.
Eyes closed, still drowsy in sleep, he moaned again.
“Elizabeth…”
Chelsea’s eyes flew open and she sat bolt upright. “What did you say?”
He jerked violently awake and sat up, too, not unlike the first night when he had regained consciousness and thrown her to the floor like a madman.
“What’s going on?” he asked, glaring at her, then glancing down at his erection.
“I was…I was kissing you.” She did not have the courage to tell him where, exactly, she had been kissing him, or how much he seemed to be enjoying it. “And you just called me Elizabeth.”
“Who’s Elizabeth?”
The flame in her heart blew out. Jack was experiencing an unconscious memory from his real life. A sexual memory. He had not been thinking of her in his sleep. He’d been dreaming of someone else.
Somehow she managed to speak calmly and sensibly, while on the inside all her dreams and joys were sinking into a dark, dread-filled abyss. “I don’t know. I was hoping you’d be able to tell me.”
He sat up on the pillows and lowered his forehead into a hand.
Jack had not been able to tell Chelsea who Elizabeth was because he had no idea. Despite great efforts, he could not place the name. Nothing about it rang a single bell in his mind, and in the end he concluded that Elizabeth was probably a recent lover.
“Your wife, perhaps?” Chelsea pressed, her insides squeezing with angst. “Or a fiancée?”
He got out of bed and quickly yanked on his trousers. “I don’t know.”
His voice was curt, almost angry, as he kept his back to her and hastily fastened the buttons and searched for his shirt.
“I wonder how many lovers you’ve had,” she said distantly, struggling not to be hurt by this. She had to push such feelings away.
But of course he could not answer that question either. She therefore had no choice but to accept his explanation—and his apology for calling her by another woman’s name at a most inopportune time.
That did not mean she could forget it, however, for the awkward incident reestablished that self-protective instinct she had felt the day before, and reminded her how important it was to keep her heart out of this, no matter how glorious and romantic these days seemed. Because it was very likely that one day she, too, would be regarded as a recent lover. He would go back to where he came from and rejoin the people who were his friends and family. Perhaps he would say her name when he was with another, and remember this bizarre, abnormal experience with a sense of guilt and remorse.
Thus, she could not forget that none of this was real and it would not last long. No matter how intimately they behaved with each other, no matter how romantic and fanciful it all seemed, he would eventually return to his life, and she, in turn, would be required to keep secrets from him.
So, if she was going to succeed with this plan, she must remember to stay detached, because when all was said and done, all contact between them would be severed.
Chelsea’s mother decided to serve lunch outdoors that day, for it was a calm, clear afternoon. The servants carried white-clothed tables onto the lawn, adorned them with flowers and fruit in large pewter bowls, and the family enjoyed an extravagant feast of cold meats and fresh vegetables, with frosted pound cake for dessert.
All the while, Chelsea failed completely at remaining detached.
After the meal, Melissa took her by the arm to walk with her across the lawn to the rosebushes, where they could look out at the sea.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You look miserable.”
“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” Chelsea flatly replied.
There was an echo of surprise in Melissa’s voice. “Why not?”
“It’s not as simple as I thought it would be. I was so cavalier about it before, but now I’m having so many thoughts and feelings. I’m thinking about the future—his future—and I fear he might have a lover or even a wife. He called me by another woman’s name this morning when we were in bed.”
“Oh dear. Did he remember anything? Could he tell you who she was?”
“No, and still, he remembers nothing. He was half asleep when he said it. But aside from that, I am finding the guilt over this deception to be worse than I imagined it would be. I thought I could be matter-of-fact about it all, and I am trying very hard to keep my heart out of it, but I am not sure I can be the mercenary soldier I wanted to be. If there is a child, I don’t know how I will be able to keep it from him. It will be the worst lie of my life. Why did I not think of this before? Why did I think it would be simple?”
“Are you falling in love with him? Is that the problem?”
She looked up at the sky. “I think maybe…yes, a little. I’m not sure. But whatever my feelings are, they are making everything very complicated.”
Melissa touched her arm. “I was afraid this would happen. It’s not easy to be intimate with a man and keep your heart covered up. It goes against our natures as women.”
Chelsea withdrew, but continued to hold Melissa’s hands. “Not for all women. What about the ones who sell their bodies to strangers? Surely they don’t fall in love every night. Why can’t I be like them?”
She had never imagined she would wish for such a thing, but there it was.
Melissa considered it. “That would be a very different experience from this. You have yourself a handsome and charming gentleman who appears—from what I can see—to be more than a little enamored with you.”
“Do you think so?” She glanced uneasily at Jack, who was sitting at the table with her mother, engaged in conversation.
They said nothing for a long time, then Melissa spoke with compassion. “We will not ask you to continue this if you are not comfortable, Chelsea. I will be honest and tell you that Sebastian would be greatly relieved if you ended it. He is not handling any of this well. It has taken all my energies to keep him from intervening, and I am not always sure I am doing the right thing.”
Chelsea took a deep breath and let it out. “Sometimes when I think about giving up the plan, I also think of the alternative—marrying Lord Jerome. But mostly I think about how impossible it will be for me to say goodbye to Jack, when all I want to do is be with him.”
“I promise, if you find yourself with child, Sebastian and I will be here for you, no matter what you decide to do. And if we go ahead with things as planned, we will be in your debt forever. We will spend the rest of our days making sure that you get the happiness you deserve.”
She looked at her sister-in-law. “I wasn’t doing this just for my own happiness,” she confessed. “Your happiness means a great deal to me as well. I know how badly you want to be a mother. I wanted to do this for you.”
Melissa pulled her into her arms and held her. “You are my best friend,” she said.
“And you are mine.”
Which made all of this so very, very difficult.
“You’ve been distant today,” Jack said, offering his arm to Chelsea as they strolled along the row of azaleas on the sunny side of the house. “Is it because of what happened this morning?”
Chelsea tried to find a way to explain how she felt, without sounding wounded or heartbroken. She tried also to remember what she and Melissa had just been discussing. She had not entered into this to fall in love. She’d had a very specific purpose. She must think of her fate with Lord Jerome, and try to stay rational.
“Yes,” she said matter-of-factly. “Your calling me by another woman’s name was a healthy dose of reality, don’t you think?”
So much for staying rational. She’d just spoken harshly. Her breaking heart had revealed itself.
“It introduced nothing we did not already know.”
“It introduced another woman,” she corrected him.
He stopped and tilted his head to the side, and with a slight scowl in his dark features, studied her expression.
“Yes,” he said, a clear note of warning in his voice, “but the notion of my having a past is hardly unexpected or out of the ordinary. I am a grown man, Chelsea, and you know my situation here. Of course, I would have had lovers, and you and I are hardly committed to each other. You are betrothed to another. You came to me for one thing, and one thing only, and I played my part. I have not misled you or taken advantage of you. And correct me if I am wrong, but you’ve been enjoying yourself, so I will not stand here and be treated as if I have betrayed you.”
“No, of course not,” she said, kicking herself for behaving in such a way when she had just resolved to be level-headed. “I did not mean to imply that.”
They walked on in silence for a moment.
“You are right,” she said, laboring to convince herself more than him. “We are not committed to each other. I am not your wife, or even your mistress. For all we know, you may be gone from here tomorrow, and if that is the case, we shall part as friends. And I will be grateful for the time we have spent together and all that you have taught me about the marriage bed. It has been wonderful.”
There. She had said all the right things.
“W
ell,” he said coolly, “that sounds very…expedient for both of us. No strings, no duties. How perfectly decadent.”
“Yes, exactly.” She began walking again, and tried to behave like the carefree lover she wanted to be. “Because clearly we both have an aversion toward the duties we must fulfill. We shall therefore be happy to know that we have each rebelled in this very enjoyable way, by seeking pleasure for pleasure’s sake while we had the chance.”
They walked around the house to look out at the sea, which sparkled brightly like thousands of diamonds in the sun.
“And yet,” Jack said, his voice becoming quiet and low, “there is a part of me that will not want to say goodbye to you.”
The remark did nothing to help her stay focused on her purpose, or to remain detached. Instead, it caused her heart to tremble ever so cautiously with hope.
For the longest time she said nothing. She simply stood at the edge of the property with these unwelcome emotions flooding through her. She thought about her life and everything she wanted, as well as everything that had hurt her in the past.
She had not been lucky in love. She had made poor decisions. For years she’d been a social outcast, yet never felt alone or unhappy. Why? Because she’d always had her imagination and her writing. She could create fictional worlds and live vicariously through her characters, without ever risking her own heart.
In addition, she had her family. There was her mother, who no one would deny could be beastly sometimes, but she never meant any harm. And she had Sebastian and Melissa, who were both so dear to her.
Despite everything, she had achieved a certain kind of happiness in recent years. She had learned to rely on herself, and though she could not deny being somewhat bored on certain occasions, she’d become content here on the island, with her solitary life.
But everything was different now, since Jack had washed up onto her shore. Her contentment was slipping away. She was aware now of what she’d been missing, and she almost wished that she had never discovered it.
She wished Jack—or whatever his real name was—had never come here.
When a Stranger Loves Me Page 10
