HerOutlandishStranger (18 page)

Exhausted, they walked toward the inn. But something made
Jas suddenly stop. He pulled Liza close to him and pointed in the window of a
printer’s shop. “Look,” he said, “books! So da’ many paper books!”

She chuckled at his enthralled expression. “You do have such
objects in your country, I suppose?”

“Nothing so beautiful. May we go in? Oh these are amazing.”

She usually enjoyed looking at books, but that day she much
preferred to watch him as he reverently ran a finger over tooled-leather
bindings, and turned pages as if they were as delicate as spider webs. At her
suggestion, he bought a volume of philosophy and a collection of Shakespeare’s
sonnets.

“Aren’t you going to complain about the leather?” she teased
him.

He glanced at her sideways, his expression unreadable. “No
point in trying to avoid leather. It’s everywhere.”

She decided he was jesting again, though she knew he had a
strange aversion to leather, and come to that, she could not help wondering
what books in his country looked like if a village printer’s simple merchandise
could appear so magnificent to him. Perhaps they carved rocks in his homeland.

Arms loaded with wrapped parcels, with the rest on order,
they at last made their way back to the inn for tea.

“I had a splendid day,” Eliza said happily as she nibbled a
macaroon. “During my Season in London I grew weary of endless shopping, but I
admit it is a treat now and again. I did not imagine you would be a good
companion in purchasing fripperies. A pleasant surprise.”

“I am a regular Renaissance man,” he told her. “Helps that
I’m not used to such amazing clothing. In my time clothing keeps one warm or
cold. Even the plainest jacket seems ornate here.”

“In your time?” she asked. A sudden breathlessness seized
her.

“My country, I mean,” he said, yawning. “I’m so tired I
cannot speak plain English.”

She felt entirely foolish. It was nonsense, of course. More
of his silliness. “Your English is never plain, Mr. White. I am tired too.
Perhaps we should rest for a while?” She raised her eyebrows at him and then
looked toward the bed. Ah, she did enjoy behaving in such a shameless manner.

He seemed to forget his weariness and locked the door. First
he stripped her of her clothes and then she tugged at his, stopping to kiss and
stroke skin.

* * * * *

The future stopped mattering then. Through two long days
they did nothing more than explore and enjoy each other’s bodies, stopping only
to eat and sleep and sneak down the back stairway for the necessary. Why she
would sneak, she didn’t know. Perhaps the fact that they were not truly married.
Or perhaps she didn’t want anyone else to talk to her and wake her up from the
spell that only they two existed.

She tried once or twice to push for a different future. One
morning when she prepared herself for the day she sat in front of a speckled
old mirror at an inn near London.

Jas watched for a while, the glazed look of interest in his
eyes. At last he walked over and took the brush from her hand and ran it over
the long strands.

Eliza moaned her enjoyment of the feel of his fingers and
the brush stroking her scalp and her hair.

“We might go into the country where no one knows us,” she
said.

He stopped brushing her hair and shook his head. “You
deserve better than I can offer, Liza. And you will find the man,” Jas said
softly. “I know.”

She turned away, disgusted by his stupid certainty and her
continued need to bring up the subject.

But she could not stay angry with him for long. It was a
useless exercise disagreeing with Jas. He did not argue but he was no more
likely to change his ways than a river to flow backward. Love, concern, tender
care, thoughtfulness—he demonstrated all. But not commitment.

And then everything came crashing down.

Jas stared out the window as he ate a meat pasty and Eliza
came to lean against him. Several men walked through the courtyard and one made
her gasp. “That man,” she said in a low voice and pointed out the window.

“Liza! What is wrong? Your hand is shaking.”

She managed a laugh. “It’s only that he has dark hair.
Everywhere I go I see such men and wonder. I am never easy in public. Silly of
me, since it happened in Spain, but there it is. I dreamed that the man found
me and after discovering I’m carrying his baby, tried to kill me.”

He twisted her around away from the window so she was in his
arms. They exchanged a long kiss and then he pushed away and went to the
dressing table. “Liza,” he said heavily. “The stuff we bought is about ready,
right?”

“Mr. Boggs said we may fetch the rest of the order
tomorrow.”

He picked up one of her new hair ribbons and ran it between
two of his fingers. She watched him wrap the blue grosgrain ribbon around his
solid wrist, and unwrap it, again and again.

“What is the matter, pray?” she asked.

He only shook his head and didn’t look at her.

“You are so silent now. What are you thinking?”

He raised his head at last, his eyes bleak. Or perhaps
simply cold. “Oh no,” he said softly. “No, Liza. This isn’t right.” His hands
dropped to his sides. He opened his mouth, closed it again. “I’ve wondered why
you’ve been afraid of some men. No. Damn. I knew. I just didn’t want to.”

He bowed his head and examined his thumb and then the edge
of his scar. “I wonder if I can extricate a promise from you,” he said. “I’ve
got to.”

“I haven’t managed to get one from you,” she said and wished
she hadn’t spoken so harshly.

“I know. That’s the point.” He stared up into her face and
began to say strange words. “My only reason for being here is to help you. That
might be the only reason I exist. I won’t tell you more, I can’t. But you
shouldn’t be freaking afraid. It’s not fair.”

She smiled but he didn’t return the smile. He spoke in his
more forceful voice. “I need you to promise you’ll accept my help, no matter
what I tell you.”

“Come now. That frown is quite fierce for my pleasant friend
Mr. White. You’re frightening me,” she said, trying to sound light. But not
succeeding in the slightest.

“You must promise, Eliza. Swear it. You do take oaths, don’t
you?”

“Why are you saying this?”

Good question. Why was he going to speak? Jazz walked away
from her to stare out the window again. He shouldn’t speak. She would not
accept his help if she knew the truth.

Maybe the bond was strong enough, he told himself. Maybe she
wouldn’t run away or stab him to death if she knew the truth.

He owed her. The Department did too, but that was their
problem. Don’t say it all, he reminded himself. Enough to be fair, but not too
much of the truth. Could they come after her if he said too much? He did not
know. He would not risk it. But he wanted to end her fear. She couldn’t go
through life panicked when she encountered dark-haired strangers.

What else could he do?

He went to the door, in case she should try to get past him.

“Jas?” She came to him and peered into his face. “You’re
quite pale. Are you ill?” Her fingers lightly brushed his shoulder. “I promise.
Whatever you say, I won’t leave you or force you to go.”

He didn’t move aside. “Liza. What do you recall from the
night in the cave?”

Her hand on his shoulder was instantly still. “Why are you
talking about that? It truly was as I told you. I don’t fully recall what
happened. Is that why you are unwilling to marry me? I-I suppose I cannot blame
you.” Her tone was grave, but only slightly hurt.

He felt a flash of indignation. What kind of sanctimonious
jerk did she think he was? Why would he care about that? A moment later he
nearly laughed aloud when he recalled he had behaved far worse than any kind of
judgmental prude.

“That time on the hillside was not the first time I’d kissed
and held you.”

He slid his hands behind his back and held them tight
together to make sure that he wouldn’t accidentally harm her. After all, if she
flew at him with a knife he might have to defend himself, though he wasn’t sure
he ought to respond if she did. With every day that passed, he felt more
confident at his ability to suppress his automatic reactions, but he couldn’t
risk the possibility he might hurt her.

He waited. She still didn’t speak so he pressed on. “Why
didn’t you ever ask me if I was the man in the cave?”

She walked back to her chair and dropped onto it.

“No. Jas, you couldn’t have been that man. He had dark hair.
And you…you had seen the villa and the fires. You could not have been in the
cave with me and have witnessed the destruction at the same time. And I know
you’re a good man. You couldn’t do such a thing.” She spoke aggressively, as if
they were arguing.

He recited the facts. “I had only heard about the
destruction and the fires. I knew I had to protect you. When I went to the
ruins of the villa with you, that was the first time I’d been there.”

“What are you saying? That it was you?” she whispered, fear
finally lacing her voice. “Were you the man in the cave?”

For what felt like an eternity, they stared into each
other’s eyes. She didn’t seem to read the answer there, or maybe she didn’t want
to. So he had to nod.

She sobbed, but only once, before she forced herself under
control. “Oh good Lord, why?” Her voice was quiet. “Why? And why have you kept
silent? I have had nightmares about the man, who he could have been. And if I’d
known it was you I would never have—”

“Never have let me help you,” he finished. “You would not
have let me stay with you. I had to protect you.”

She shook her head as if to clear it.

“Oh Jas, you wretched fool, you knew how frightened I have
been. Why did you not confess this to me? I don’t know what I would have done.
At this moment, I believe I feel relief that you are the father of this baby. I
want to sing with relief. But, oh!”

She jumped up so quickly the rickety chair fell sideways.
“Oh I could throttle you. Why did you do this to me? You are not a blackguard.
I’d stake my life on it. How could you?”

He didn’t answer.

“Damn you, Mr. White, tell me. Why did you do it?”

“I have no answer that would make you or me forgive what I
did,” he said at last, slowly, measuring each word. “I saw your father carry
you into the cave. When I went to investigate, there you were. I—you looked
cold and so I decided to warm you. And then, well…” He shrugged. It was not
such a farfetched recital of the events, after all.

“I know. ‘A despicable coward’.” She spat his words at him.
“And you thought if you told me I’d chase you off? I’d force you to marry me,
more like. Oh no, I forget.” She laughed bitterly. “You can’t marry me, though
you can father a child on me. Jas, how could you? I thought I wanted nothing
more than to marry you and have your child. At least I have the one but not the
other?”

Suddenly she threw back her head and a small howl escaped
her. She strode around the room, the heels of her shoes slamming on the bare
floor. “That night in the shed. I thought you were so noble, and I was a bawd.
And so many other nights too. And today and—Lord, I was ashamed that I should
want you. But no, you’d already had what you wanted and left me with the burden
of it.”

“No, I didn’t. I didn’t get what I wanted.”

She stopped pacing and swiveled to face him. She put her
fists on her hips, if only to keep from striking him, the sanctimonious,
horrible, hypocritical ravishing sneak thief. “And what is that, Mr. White?
What did you want?”

“I wish the night in the cave didn’t have to happen. I wish
I could explain how sorry I have been. How sorry I am. But the night did happen
and you are going to have a baby. And I will give you the evidence that you are
a respectable widow so you can return to your family and have your baby.”

“Our baby.
We
are going to have a baby,” she cried.
“You and I together, Mr. White. If you were any kind of a man at the very least
you’d stay with me. Oh no. I recall. You have told me that I will marry another
man. I suppose your ridiculous seer told you this. Who is he?”

He grimly shook his head, his mouth pressed tight.

Counting to ten didn’t help. “Who. Is. He?”

“I don’t know the man.”

She snorted rather than give into another unbecoming shrill
scream. “And I am to be happy with this nameless gentleman?”

He was pale and tight-lipped. “Yes.”

“Well, then.” Eliza glared at him. “Good. I am glad. Now
kindly remove yourself from guarding that door.”

He shook his head. “You promised you’d allow me to keep you
safe.”

“Move.”

“You swore.” He spoke in a dead voice and she could read his
desolation in his face.

“Damn you, Mr. White.” She didn’t begin to understand it,
and the slightly dizzying sensation washed over her as she wondered yet again
about the place he came from. The stories he’d told. What kind of man was he?

She examined him, the far-too-handsome blackguard who’d
dropped into her life from nowhere. The man who’d saved her life, more than
once.

Mr. Strange Jas White with his block of wood, his peculiar
English, his outlandish stories. The strange man she knew better than her own
heart. After all, she didn’t completely understand her heart’s workings either.

The man who’d taken her while she was asleep, left her with
child and now planned to abandon her.

“Go away,” she said. “Let me think.”

He nodded and silently left the room.

She flung herself on the bed and tried to sort the strange
tangle of emotions and she realized the strongest one she felt—gratitude that
he was her baby’s father. Below the anger and confusion lay relief. And
certainty. Their bond was real and now it was flesh. Despite this, she wasn’t
going to debase herself with him any longer. Not until he explained why he
could love her but not marry her.