Chelsea 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 heart fluttered with anxiety, because this was the first time that Jack had shown any signs of recollection. He was suspicious that there was an urgent duty he must attend to. He was aware that it was weighing 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.
Chelsea had been very wrong to think that this plan would be straightforward or easy. It was nothing of the sort. Her emotions were becoming 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 plot 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 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 had changed her life forever.
But last night she had 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 had been missing out on. 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 had finally come to understand how dead she had been these past seven years, living through the characters in her stories. This morning she felt reborn.
She was also feeling shamelessly aroused—again—and could not resist the desire to touch Jack. She slid her hand across to where he lay stretched out on his stomach, gorgeously nude beneath the sheet. He appeared to be in a deep slumber, for he was breathing softly, so she ran her finger down the length of his muscular back.
At the first light touch of her hand, still drowsy with sleep, he let out a quiet, low moan. “Elizabeth...”
Chelsea’s hand went still, and she blinked a few times with alarm. She slid away from him and said, “Jack, are you awake?”
His body jerked violently. He flipped over and sat bolt upright, not unlike the first night when he had regained consciousness and thrown her onto the floor like a madman.
“What’s going on?” he asked, glaring at her with fear.
“I was... I was touching you. Then you called me Elizabeth.”
“Who’s Elizabeth?”
The flame of happiness in her heart blew out instantly. Jack was experiencing an unconscious memory from his real life. He had not been thinking of her in his sleep. He had been dreaming of someone else.
Somehow, Chelsea managed to speak calmly and sensibly, while on the inside, all her dreams and joys were sinking into a dread-filled abyss. “I don’t know. I was hoping you would be able to tell me.”
He sat up on the pillows and lowered his forehead into a hand.
Chapter 11
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 re-established 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 ever 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, Chelsea 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, “Jack” would eventually return to his own world, 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 emotionally 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 am thinking of 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,” Chelsea replied, “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 intended 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 that before? Why did I think it would be simple?”
“Are you falling in love with him? Is that the problem?”
Chelsea 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?” Chelsea 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.”
Chelsea 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 affair 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 had just spoken harshly. Her breaking heart had revealed itself.
“It introduced nothing we did not already know.”
“It introduced another woman,” she corrected him, with jealousy and bite.
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.”
What was wrong with her?
They walked on in silence for a moment.
“You are right on all counts,” 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 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.
“Well,” he replied coolly, “that sounds very...expedient for both of us. No strings, no duties. How perfectly decadent.”
“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 had been a social outcast, yet never felt alone or unhappy. Why? Because she’d always had her writing. She could use her imagination and 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 Chelsea had Sebastian and Melissa, who were both very dear to her.
Despite everything, Chelsea had achieved a measure 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 had 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 of what she had 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.
“Let me guess,” she said, responding to his subtle declaration of affection. “You will not want to say goodbye to me because I am all you have.”
He needed her because he felt alone. That was all it was. She was the last woman on earth, so to speak.
“It is a heavy responsibility,” she added, “to be the sole provider of your happiness.”
She spoke to wound, cognizant of the fact that she was trying to push him away. She wanted to pick a fight. She did not want to be in love, and she certainly did not want to feel jealous of whoever had made love to him before she had.
“You may not like it,” he replied, frowning at her, “but until I remember my old life, or begin a new one, you are my everything.”
“Until I remember my old life,” she repeated, trying desperately to focus on those words, instead of the way it made her feel to know that—at the moment—she was his everything. “It is something we would both do well to remember, Jack, because as soon as you venture out into the world, you will no longer need me, and this will be over.”
He would replace
her with other friends, other activities, and other women, because right now he was just using her to fill his sense of emptiness. He had told her so more than once.
But she was using him, too, she realized, and for far more deceitful purposes, and therefore she had no right to argue with him or punish him. She had started all this, so she would have to cope with the chaos of her emotions. She could not take it out on him.
“If you will excuse me,” she said, deciding it was not a good day for coping, and that it would be best to end the conversation for the time being. “I am feeling tired, and I don’t really want to talk about this anymore.”
He bowed politely and did not object to her departure. Chelsea crossed the lawn, walked around the house, and nearly collided head-on with her mother.
“What have you been up to, Chelsea?” her mother asked accusingly.
“Nothing.”
Chelsea did not stop to elaborate. She continued on but felt her mother’s disapproving gaze on the back of her head as she entered the house.
Ten minutes later, a knock sounded at her door, but before she had a chance to respond, her mother barged in.
“I am not a fool,” she said, slamming the door behind her. “What is going on?”
“Nothing,” Chelsea replied, feeling as if she were six years old again, taking a scolding for climbing trees. But then she remembered that she was a grown woman and lifted her chin. “I don’t appreciate being interrupted like this, Mother. You cannot just walk in here as if these were your rooms.”
She quickly picked up her pencil to give the impression that she had been writing, though she hadn’t. She had been staring at the wall.
Her mother strode closer. “You are not fancying yourself in love with him, are you? He is handsome and charming, no doubt about it, but we still do not know anything about him, and you have a responsibility to this family. You are as good as promised to Lord Jerome, and I will not tolerate a repeat performance of the last time, when you ran off with an unsuitable young man because he knew how to flatter you and you became infatuated.”
When a Stranger Loves Me (Love at Pembroke Palace Book 3) Page 10
