Kissed; Christian (25 page)

Jessie tugged off a section of his bandage much too quickly and cast him an irate glare.

“Ayeee! Gad, Jess, be easy with me!” Resisting the urge to shield his wound from further aggression, he gritted his teeth, allowing her to continue. But he said through clenched teeth, “Tell me, coz, what is it you said to him to turn his mood so foul?”

“And what makes you think ’tis me?” Jessie peered up at him with narrowed eyes.

Ben shrugged.

“Nothing he didn’t deserve,” she assured. “And you! You haven’t been alive an eternity!”

But
he
had! Jessie thought, glancing briefly toward the ship’s wheel, for he was the devil’s own!

“Not an eternity, perhaps, but long enough to know...”

With Ben’s bandages finally unraveled, Jessie glanced up into her cousin’s handsome face. He smiled down at her, though it was a cheerless smile, and it made her heart ache terribly.

Catching her hand at his knee, he stroked the back of it with his thumb. Jessie could merely stare as he caressed her, feeling uncomfortable with it, yet not quite able to withdraw her hand.

Her expression anguished, she lifted her face to his, and their gazes held.

“Sweet Jess,” Ben murmured. “How I could love you... if only...” She flushed, averting her gaze, and he said, “How depraved I must sound to you, wanting you as I do—but I cannot help it! I’ve tried,” he swore, “and I just cannot stop!”

“Ben...”

“Hush,” he demanded. “Listen to me, sweet coz. I do know you can never be mine…” He placed her hand to his heart. “I can only hope that someday... someday,” he repeated solemnly, “though I doubt it very much, I shall find another as kind and beautiful as you. Until then, know my heart belongs to you, and only to you.”

Jessie shook her head, her heart twisting at his disclosure. “Ben... please...”

He placed his fingers to her lips, shushing her. “Listen to me, please, because I must say this. I swear I’ll not speak of it again, not to anyone. Know I love you, Jess, and know I’ll always be there for you, no matter the circumstances. I pledge that to you here and now.” He groaned suddenly, the sound tormented. “God’s teeth! I feel such a fierce loyalty to Hawk, for he once saved my arse from the gibbet. You see... I risked my father’s ship on a venture—a worthy venture, though it matters not a whit now, for the outcome remains the same.” He shook his head regretfully. “Hawk came to my rescue. He didn’t have to, but he did.” He shrugged. “Had he not, well then... my father would have lost his ship in the Indies, and I...” He chuckled without mirth. “I daresay, I would be as lifeless as this wooden cane in my hand.”

Placing the staff he spoke of down upon the deck, he reached out, taking her by the arms, drawing her closer, yet gently, as though to gain her full attention.

“Even so... hear me well... if Hawk so much as touches you in the wrong manner... he’ll answer to me. And yet... I know in my heart you’ll not need me, because Hawk is a good man. I know only too well that he is... and so... you truthfully have no need of me at all.”

An anguished look crossed his features. And then, as though he could not help himself, he brought her closer still, his lips not far from her own as he spoke to her.

“Dear God... Jessie...” He groaned. “I might ask only one thing of you... I dream of you so oft, sweet coz—too oft! I would have you put an end to these dreams. I cannot ... Perhaps if you would kiss me, just once ... your soft, sweet lips to my own... just once. I shall not ask it of you again—I swear it on my honor!”

“Ben!” she choked out, panicking, and tried to withdraw from his embrace. He held her fast and came nearer still, urging her with his compelling gaze to assent.

“Please, Jess...” He sounded as tortured as a man could possibly sound.

Jessie’s eyes closed and she swallowed convulsively, knowing in her heart that she could not deny him this once. She nodded, and heard his moan of relief as he pulled her exuberantly into his embrace, touching his lips tenderly to hers at first, tentatively, as though he were afraid she would bolt. His kiss was achingly sweet... and she should have felt something... anything, for he was nearly as masterful with his lips as Christian, yet she could feel nothing. She was numb. Her heart was dull and heavy for she was cursed to love another.

After a long-suffering moment, he tore himself away. “Christ,” he concluded, scowling fiercely. “I believe that might have been a first-rate mistake.” He winked at her halfheartedly. “Tell me, Jess, can you never...” He paused then, seeming to rethink his words, and said instead, shaking his head, “Never mind. You love him and there is nothing to be done for that. You cannot give full measure... and I can take no less... Only know that I shall always—”

“How very moving.”

Jessie whirled about to spy Christian looking down upon them from the upper deck, his expression dark and stormy, his stance threatening, and his dark hair whipping with the breeze. His blue eyes shot her with contempt.

“It is not what it appears, Hawk,” Ben swore at once, his tone repentant, if only slightly irritated. “She was...” His gaze reverted to Jessie, but he could not bank the look of intense yearning that was there for her to see, then suddenly he did, and he looked again at Christian, slightly more composed. “I stole a kiss from her,” he yielded, “and she had not the heart to refuse me.”

“How very charitable of her.” Christian cast her a ferocious glare before turning and stalking away.

“I’m sorry.”

Jessie shook her head. “It matters not... He couldn’t possibly loathe me more than he does already.”

Christian felt rage like never before, though he’d be damned if he’d fault Ben for it. It was Jessie he blamed.

Curse her faithless hide!

He’d listened with bated breath to her soul-stirring confession a few nights past and had felt her pain.

The biggest part of him had been elated at the possibility of her innocence; still, he’d not been quite able to bring himself to believe her. For all he knew, she’d performed the dramatics for his benefit alone, knowing he was awake and listening. And yet, though he’d not dared believe in her, the need to hold her had been irrepressible, and he’d reached out to comfort her even against his will.

How could he have thought to believe her?

For the last days, and nights, while he’d lain next to her, he’d respectfully let her be, while he’d grappled with his heart and his conscience, coming so close to trusting in her...

So close.

He’d not gone to her last night because he hadn’t trusted himself.

And now...

Had he been even remotely near them, he might have torn Ben limb from limb. God’s truth, he felt like doing so even now. With a curt nod, he urged his first mate away from the wheel, taking charge of it himself, his expression furious. Black-haired, bushy-browed Tibbs gave up his post immediately, eyeing him warily as he scurried away.

Damn. He didn’t want to believe her, not now—particularly not now. But her pitiful wails had resounded with truth, tearing his own heart into tortured shreds. But she was lost to him, for it was apparent she loved another... that she despised him as much as she claimed.

He recalled Ben’s blissful expression as his lips had touched upon Jessie’s, and his chest constricted painfully. Christ, he had come to such foolish conclusions all those months ago in England, and now he would pay for it. He couldn’t stand the thought of her with Ben. Couldn’t bear the thought of Ben’s hands upon her, his lips worshiping her body. He closed his eyes for an instant, feeling dizzy with anger and regret. He’d never loathed himself more than he did at the moment, for he’d had her once, and he’d lost her.

How could he have been so witless?

How could she be so faithless?

So fickle?

She was a treacherous bitch—even if she had not been the one to betray his confidences. She’d played him false with her inconsistent emotions—damned lady turncoat!

But she was never yours to love in the first place, he reminded himself bitterly.

She was never yours to begin with...

Nor could she ever love the man who had caused the death of her father...

And he was that man.

The remainder of the journey passed uneventfully.

It took just over two weeks to reach their destination, a small, picturesque island as bright and vibrant as the lush background of stained glass with which it competed. Jessie remained within the cabin the entire day they were docked.

They departed early the next morn, stopping at yet another port two days hence. There they spent merely a few hours, and were gone again by noon.

If she thought Christian had avoided her before, he certainly did so now. She saw him only fleetingly, when she happened to search him out. God only knows why she should do such a thing, but sometimes before she could stop herself, she would find herself seeking just a glimpse of him.

So many times she’d been tempted to go to him, to speak with him, but Christian would need only glare at her with that devil’s fire in his eyes and her courage would immediately falter. And then she would scurry back to her cabin.

God’s truth, were it not for Ben’s and Jean Paul’s company, she would have died of the doldrums along with her broken heart.

They were half a day from Charlestown when a knock sounded upon her cabin door—Christian’s cabin door, though he had so generously abandoned it for her. How gracious of him, she thought bitterly.

“Come in,” she said, knowing instinctively it was not Christian, for he never would have bothered to knock upon his own door.

The cabin door opened at once and Jean Paul came sauntering in, his expression grim. He took a seat at the claw-footed table without invitation. In so very many ways he was like his son, Jessie mused, but she liked him anyway. She felt sorry for him, in truth, that he should be so close to his only son and have no knowledge of their relationship. He’d told her once already that he’d never married and had never had children.

How could he not know?

Once seated, Jean Paul looked at her pensively. Screwing his lips, he gazed at her as though he would speak but was unsure of how to proceed.

“What is it? Ben?”

“
Non, non, mon ange
, not Ben. Fear not, for he is well. His leg seems to be healing and he walks well enough with his cane—although,” he yielded with a regretful shake of his head, “I very much fear he shall be left with a limp for the remainder of his days. And yet he’s quite fortunate, for the leg bone did not shatter, and it well may have.”

Jessie shuddered at that ghastly thought.

“
Oui, demoiselle
, I have seen it before.” He raised a brow. “But enough of Ben—’tis my son I’ve come to discuss with you just now.”

Jessie’s eyes widened and her jaw fell. She closed her mouth abruptly, for she had no idea what to say in response. “You know?”

His face contorted. “I take it Hawk has confided in you, then, for you seem to know precisely who it is I’m speaking of.” He nodded, seeming pleased with the discovery. “But then, of course, he would have,” he addressed himself. He sighed. “So much makes sense to me now.” He chuckled softly, the sound so oddly familiar that it sent a chill down Jessie’s spine. “I take it you think I did not know?” He clucked his tongue, casting Jessie a reproachful glance. “But I ask you,
ma petite
, now could I not know? A man would have to be blind—nay, there can be no mistaking it; Hawk is my son.”

Jessie’s shock was evident in her expression. “I—” She shook her head in stunned disbelief. “He has no idea that you know,” she told him after a moment.

“Aye,” Jean Paul confirmed, “and that is my own fault, I fear. I made his sweet
maman
swear to me that she would never tell him... and then, when I thought he knew, I pretended ignorance. I just could not seem to meet his eyes when he spoke of her, for then he would know,
cherie
, that I love her still.”

“But... I don’t understand...”

“I was not certain until now that he knew, you see. But if my son has confided in you, then indeed he knows. And still... I must allow Hawk to decide to accept me of his own accord. I would not betray his mother by speaking of it first. So until the day he acknowledges it, I am content simply to have Hawk as my friend. Tell me, how blessed can a man hope to be? I cannot give him my name, but my son has my friendship, and that is so much more. How many fathers can say as much?
Non, non,
fear not,
mon ange
, I am perfectly content with my lot—but enough of me! I came because I must know for certain... do you love him... do you love my son?”