HerOutlandishStranger Page 16

That was an easy one. He shook his head. “I suppose someday I’ll end up there again. I mean at my old habits. I never had much need for excitement.” As he said the words, they struck him as indescribably bleak. No big mystery there, he realized. In his future, she would truly only exist in his memory.

  He thought of living in a world that didn’t even hold her, and was filled with an ache as enormous as if it had already come to pass and she’d turned to dust before his eyes. His eyes began to sting. At least he recognized the early warning signs of the stupid tears now. He took a breath and held it. That seemed to do the trick. But perhaps this would be a good opportunity to see if the local suppressant of alcohol could help. He poured himself a glass. The taste and smell threatened to overwhelm him, but he managed to down about half a glass.

  Within minutes he understood that wine did not work—at least not as Nulif, the suppressant he knew well. No, in fact wine could be called quite the opposite of a suppressant. Some things seemed suppressed. Like his ability to look anywhere but at Liza. Or think about anything else. He felt dizzy with the need to touch her, a familiar sensation, but somehow even more paralyzing at the moment. And he wasn’t going to lay a hand on her.

  Silence fell again. Another awkward silence.

  She seemed uncomfortable under his steady gaze so he looked down into the glass of wine instead.

  “I have not asked you for at least an hour. How are you?” he asked in a valiant effort to find a suitable subject. “Do you suppose you will feel sick less often now that we are back on your native soil?”

  “Now that I am off that horrid ship I shall be fine forever.” She put her hand on her belly. “I worry somewhat. I know I am growing larger but ought I feel the baby by now?”

  He sighed. “No, not until sixteen weeks. I imagine you are about nine weeks pregnant.” Uh oh. Mention of the baby didn’t help him. Memories he’d spent weeks trying unsuccessfully to delete from his mind floated up. Liza on the ground with him. Liza in the cave, her arms around him, her mouth on his, moving with him. All of her warmth in his arms and it wasn’t until later, when he knew her better, that he thoroughly understood what a treasure he’d held. And then the one other time on the hillside…

  He gulped down the rest of the wine distastefully, poured another glass, then leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. Old habits die hard. As always, uneasiness made him instinctively hide the scar the best he could.

  “Why do you frown?” she asked faintly. “We were almost jolly, you and I, and then it was as if some old sorrow came over you. What is wrong? Do you miss your home?”

  “I find it hard to be here with you, Liza.” When he saw the seared look of hurt in her eyes he had to add, “Because I care about you too much.”

  She put down her fork, stood and walked over to him. Her finger skimmed a lock of his hair that lay across his forehead then cupped her hands on the sides of his face. Her slender fingers felt light and cool on his sensitive newly shaven skin. She leaned forward and very slowly and deliberately put her lips against his.

  A few minutes later, when she pulled back, breathless, he could feel his heart thudding against his ribs. She stood before his chair, wedged between his thighs, the warm soft length of her pressed against him, from his already throbbing erection to his chest. Somehow the fingers of one his hands had slid through locks of her loose, silken hair to cradle her head. The other hand rested on the small of her back, just above the curve of her bottom.

  “Eliza. You are—” He stopped and looked away.

  Eliza knew Jas wanted to say something important and held her breath. No, he only finished with a lame, “You are a remarkable person.”

  He gave her a lopsided, sheepish grin. “Eh. I wondered if I might eventually die of frustration if I didn’t get to hold you again. I don’t seem to be able to think of anything else.” His words faded.

  He slowly pushed his chair back and stood. When she stepped into him, he grabbed her and for a long moment held her tight against him. He loosened his hold, perhaps waiting for her next move. Good, she would not let him off just because her body thrummed for his touch.

  But the way his hands at her waist kneaded her hips reminded her that she was starved for him. When she pushed closer, she could feel his breath falter in that very interesting way that told her he wanted her. Oh, and how she wanted him. She wrapped her arms around him and tilted her face up for a kiss.

  He gently brushed his mouth against hers.

  She parted her lips, an invitation that proved enough. He tightened his hold and deepened his kiss. The sweet taste of him filled her with dizzying need. She wanted him to fill her mouth, her body. If only she could let her fill herself with every inch of him, embrace his broad shoulders, slide her hands over his long, muscular legs. Already his arms held her so close she could never be lonely again.

  Perhaps if she could wrap herself in Jas, she’d understand him. At least she could have so much of him the craving would be fulfilled. She’d taste his skin, and give into all the terrible, bottomless hunger again at last.

  “Come to bed,” she said between panting breaths. “Take off your clothes.”

  Jazz pulled her to the bed and down, hard, on top of him. He kissed her mouth, her neck and pulled up her skirts to get at her skin. Oh damn the layers she wore. Too many layers. But he couldn’t let her go yet. He had to kiss her and lick the skin he could taste.

  His waistcoat was gone. She unbuttoned his shirt and pushed at it until her warm, searching hands smoothed over his chest, and then her mouth too. He groaned as she straddled him, pressing herself to his cock, rubbing.

  “Oh.” She gave a small gasp and her eyes widened. She tried to move away, but he put his hands on her bottom and pushed up to her. Just another moment like this and then they’d get back to shedding the useless clothes, getting to the delicious fruit beneath the peel. He couldn’t wait to see her entirely naked. Yes, he could, because now he had to kiss her some more.

  She collapsed over him again and he kissed her as she writhed on his body, so much like his wonderful dreams of her except everything—taste, scent and the armful of lovely Eliza told him this was a headier reality.

  She reached between them to undo the buttons of his trousers, but she faltered, perhaps feeling too forward. No such problem for him. He hoisted himself up and shoved down the loosened trousers and linens too.

  Almost at once she rolled off him. Perhaps he’d moved too quickly, but no, her hand grasped his hard cock. She explored him with her fingers, her palm. She even slid down to eye him.

  He resisted the urge to explain oral sex. She placed one small kiss on the side of his cock and he shivered and pressed up into her hand. She tightened her grip on him, gave another small experimental tug. He was so starved for her touch, he already felt his balls tighten.

  “Shall we, now?” she asked, sounding a little frightened.

  “I’m in no hurry,” he lied and tugged at the string of one of her slips. “Take this off. Let’s be skin-to-skin. Nothing between us.”

  She gave a wordless moan, sat up and began to strip.

  He wanted to help her undress, but knew the laces and eyeholes would be beyond his trembling fingers so he watched, touching any skin she exposed to him. An arm, the bottom of her leg. He moved closer and kissed her foot, rubbed the sweet flesh of her calf. Her breasts, nipples hard and red. He moved up to kiss and suck one swollen bud. She gave a thick cry.

  “Does that hurt?”

  “No, but it’s so sensitive. A darker color. It must be…well, you know.”

  He blew lightly on her damp skin then moved over to the other breast to gently suck and taste. He pushed at her loosened skirt and petticoats. At last, naked and more beautiful than he’d dreamed.

  She reached for him but he had to see her. All of her. “You are so lovely,” he said against her belly. He kissed her thighs and ignored her small squeak of alarm as he pushed her legs apart and kissed the warm, damp flesh of her clitor
is and swollen pussy. Yes. This was what he wanted. With a happy sigh, he set to work, sucking and nibbling.

  She moaned and clutched his hair. He slid a finger into her so he could feel her excitement growing with his hands, his mouth, and in the salty-sweet taste of her.

  “Please,” she cried out and arched her back as her body tightened hard around his fingers.

  “Jas, now, please.”

  More than anything he wanted to fuck her. Thrust into her hard. Filled to the brim with too much lust, he wasn’t sure he trusted himself. So he rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him. She gazed down at him, confusion in her heavy-lidded eyes.

  “Put me inside you,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “It can be done like this?”

  “Please.”

  She rose on her knees and clutched his rock-hard cock. With only a little fumbling, she managed to lower herself onto him.

  Slick and hot. She’d told him a little about the concept of heaven and he wondered how anything could be better than this earthly pleasure of enjoying her body with his.

  “Oh.” Her body moved, ever so slightly, and it was enough to send him close to coming. He counted his breaths to stop himself. The earthy sweet fragrance rising from their bodies reminded him of the cave, which was enough to draw him back from that edge.

  She moved more, circles and rising and falling. Experimenting with his body, playing. She pulled her knees up along his sides, and sank even deeper on him.

  “Yes.” He clutched her hips again, controlling her movements, pushing up into her. All the way in.

  He fought to allow her the control, and then he concentrated on pushing only so much and no harder. Her body shuddered around him. Her mouth opened and she gave a small mewing sound of surprise. Then she collapsed on his chest, her eyes closed, her body still.

  “No, no, I want you to look,” he ordered in a rasping voice. “Open your eyes. You are here with me. I don’t—no. It’s not like the cave.” Shit, he had said too much. No. he hadn’t said enough. He shouldn’t do this unless she knew the truth about him in the cave.

  One word of that truth and she’d roll off his body and run away.

  He stayed silent, waiting for her to realize what he’d admitted to, but she only smiled into his eyes.

  Eliza sat up and braced her hands on his shoulders. She moved and he jerked up, surprised by the intense heat of her body sliding on him.

  She seemed to know what he needed. She rode him hard, pushing against him. “I am here.” Her breath came fast again, her eyes grew heavy again and she squeezed his shoulders. “Oh. Yes. I am here with you.”

  He groaned her name and she slid down to kiss him. Her sweat-slicked skin skimmed his chest and belly as she rode him, and he knew he couldn’t stand another second. He held her body tight against him as he came, enveloped in her.

  She lay on him, breathing hard “Thank you.” She seemed to grow heavier and her breath slowed. Her hand that stroked his arm absently went still.

  “I love you,” he mouthed against her hair. More words he wouldn’t say aloud, but he allowed himself to wrap his arms around her as if he would never let go.

  Selfish. Worthless pleasure-seeking pig. He tried out several phrases on himself but couldn’t find anything that would crack the tender, unfamiliar happiness he felt holding Eliza. A few days more. And then he’d do the right thing. Although now that he was playing by rules he made up as he went along, he had no idea what constituted the right thing. Telling her the truth or vanishing from her life so she could find her husband? Both, he suspected and that thought was enough to dull happiness—though not pleasure of holding Eliza.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Eliza sat and gazed at the loose-limbed figure of Jas. For the first time since she’d met him, he slept peacefully and she could study him. He lay on his back, naked, one arm over his head, the other resting on his flat stomach, which rose and fell with his slow breath. She wished she had a paper and pencil so she could draw the strong pleasing lines of his body, though she doubted she had the skill to capture the exotic colors, the golden skin, paler on the insides of his arms although strange and rough on the peculiar rectangular scar. Now that he’d shaved his face, he had very little body hair, only on his legs, under his arms and the curls near his genitals.

  The lines by his mouth that she decided were caused by pain had softened. He was handsome but she decided that kindness shone as the strongest feature of his face. Perhaps that was why she trusted him almost from the start, despite his oddities. Even his refusal to marry her did not change basic facts she knew well. He was a good man and a kind one too.

  His eyes opened. He was fully awake at once, of course, and smiled.

  She leaned forward for a kiss.

  After a few delicious sleep-warmed kisses, she knew she had to ask the question that continuously nagged her. She pulled back.

  “Please. Give me a reason you will not marry me,” she said and tried to sound simply curious. “So I will have something to tell myself.”

  He nodded slowly, as if he understood her need. “I am not allowed,” he said at last. “If I married, I would not be allowed back into my community.”

  “It seems to me that your community has abandoned you.” Eliza did not try to hide her scorn.

  She wished she hadn’t spoken, for his eyes grew sad. “Yeah, that’s probably true. Been true ever since I was young.”

  He continued, “But there are other, better reasons we should not marry. There are good reasons my community forbids this. And there are reasons that have to do with you, Liza. You will do better than me. I would never fit into your society, for one. And your husband should. He will.”

  “You fit me, Jas,” she whispered. “Very well indeed.”

  He smiled but shook his head slightly.

  “In a year, you will come to me again? Remember your promise, sir.”

  He still smiled and perhaps that small movement of his head was a nod, but she could see the signs in his face he was withdrawn from her again. The remote look in his eyes was not so pronounced as it had once been, yet it still stung her and made her want to shake him.

  She did not rail at him. Instead she lay down and pressed herself as close to him as she could as she ran her fingers over the smooth hard planes of his body, awake now and no longer relaxed with sleep.

  *

  They told each other she needed to recover from their long trek. The week turned into a month. Neither of them discussed the fact that Eliza’s health was fine and that their slow progress was a way to put off the end of their time together. Eliza knew that he avoided the topic as she did. She was reminded of when they were in Spain and she did not ask him questions because she feared he’d leave her.

  Explaining that he did not want to draw attention, Jas moved them to another small town and another inn.

  Eliza had grown used to walking in Spain and Portugal and missed the exercise. They strolled through meadows and admired the fields of tender green crops and sniffed at the air, redolent of spring blossoms.

  Eliza stopped next to a hedgerow bordering a field. She leaned over and plucked a new blossom.

  “Ah, now that is as glorious a color as your eyes,” she said mischievously.

  He grabbed at the violet-blue flower she waved at him. “What is it? A pansy?”

  She giggled. “No, that described my eyes. This is a tufted vetch.”

  Just as he managed to pull the flower from her, she heard the pound of hooves.

  “Someone’s in a hurry.” Jas straightened and peered down the narrow winding road.

  A sporting canary-yellow phaeton pulled by four perfectly matched glossy black horses swept past them. Despite the heat the driver wore a many layered driver’s cape. Eliza stared thoughtfully after the rocking, speeding phaeton and its familiar driver.

  Jas muttered, “Idiot.”

  “I recognize that particular idiot. He is the honorable Peter Clayton,” she said. “
I was introduced to him in London.”

  Jas froze and stared after the phaeton. “Do you think he recognized you?”

  She broke off another flower. “Oh no. A fashionable buck like Mr. Clayton would not recall a mere clergyman’s daughter.”

  When they returned to the small inn, they found it jammed with sporting, fashionable young men.

  The harried innkeeper explained. “They come out here from Town for a fight what’s to be held in one of Farmer Mason’s fields.”

  At that moment one of the men spotted Eliza.

  “Now here’s a sweet little pigeon,” he roared.

  Jas scowled at the man.

  “Ah, I apologize. The little bird is spoken for.”

  “We’re out of here,” Jas muttered. He spread his hand on the small of Eliza’s back and hurried her up the stairs.

  He slammed and locked the door of their room.

  “A fight?” he asked. Eliza took off the straw hat she had bought in Lisbon.

  “A boxing match, perhaps?”

  “Did you know any of those…people down there?”

  She pulled a few pins from her hair. “I think I remember one or two faces, perhaps. But they do not know me, I am sure.”

  “Still. I think you probably should stay scarce.”

  She nodded her understanding of his strange phrase. And she supposed she agreed. No maid, no proper chaperone. No real husband. She would not risk it. She had to stay in the chambers so she would not be seen.

  *

  Jazz was free to wander among the gentlemen who drank, played cards and shouted. He searched for Steele’s face among them, but perhaps Jazz’d done a good job of hiding his trail. More likely the DHUy waited for them in London, their obvious objective.

  He still couldn’t relax his guard because the so-called gentlemen were hardly safe. They leered at any woman who dared show her face, peed in public places and showed off their splendid equipages by bowling down the narrow main street at outrageous speeds, raising clouds of dust. They also spent so much money few people grumbled about them, at least to their faces.

  As he waited for an order of food to be brought from the kitchen, Jazz listened to a huge party of sportsmen. No, he didn’t catch the name James Sandton. At least Eliza’s future husband wasn’t one of these dolts.