Kissed; Christian (8 page)

Mortified, she tried to still her quaking by pressing her hand more firmly against him. She was startled to find that his heart hammered fiercely, too. It was more than evident to her that Lord Christian had kissed many a woman in his life, and Jessie had been afraid he would find her wanting. And yet... if she wasn’t mistaken... if she wasn’t imagining, he was trembling, as well...

Or rather... it was his coat that trembled...

Her brows drew together, for the movement seemed to commence... She groped downward. At his coattail? Her curious fingers moved downward and encountered a warm, fuzzy face.

Mrs. Brown!

Understanding dawned, though even as she acknowledged the sloppy sound of Mrs. Brown chewing Lord Christian’s frock coat, there was a sudden tug. It happened so quickly. Unwilling to take Jessie down with him, he released her at once and went flying backward.

With wide, incredulous eyes, Jessie watched as he tumbled into the enclosure at her feet. Startled, the goat bleated and leapt away, a small morsel of Lord Christian’s coattail still caught within her twitching mouth.

Lord Christian remained sprawled before her as dust settled upon his dark coat and breeches.

Prompted by his stillness, Mrs. Brown ventured back to glare down into his dazed face. He recoiled as she lowered her nose to sniff indignantly at him.

Jessie couldn’t help it; his dumbfounded expression brought a peal of laughter to her lips. All the tension of the past weeks dissolved at the sight before her.

“What is
that
?”

“That!” she told him, her voice strangled with giggles. “That—” Lord help her, but she could not quite manage her hilarity, his expression was so comical. “That,” she tried again, “is Mrs. Brown!”

“Mrs. Brown?” He eyed the goat balefully, and Mrs. Brown scurried away, decidedly uneasy with the look he gave her.

Jessie was teary-eyed with laughter when next he spoke.

“A bloody goat!”

“Yes, my lord!”

Jessie managed an appropriately sober nod, and reached up to dab her misty eyes with a finger, only to burst out laughing once more.

To his credit, he managed a chuckle as he admonished her, “If you’d not wished to kiss me,
m’mselle
, you might simply have said no.” He arched a plaintive brow.

“But, oh,” Jessie cried, her merriment rekindled. “It was so much more effective this way! Do you not think so, my lord?” She burst out laughing and Christian’s hand darted out to catch her ankle. With very little effort, he snatched her down into his embrace.

Laughing, she tumbled down atop him. “My lord!” she shrieked, scandalized.

“What?” he asked much too innocently.

Her laughter ended abruptly as his hand slid about her waist, securing her where she sat.

She had no idea what a tempting morsel she made, Christian decided.

Supporting their combined weight with one arm, he slowly drew her toward him.

Her intake of breath was audible, and her breast rose enticingly with the effort, tempting him beyond reason, bewildering him so that he momentarily forgot his resolve merely to kiss her.

His breath caught as he found his mouth at the level of her breast, a blatant invitation to his parted lips. He was so close now...

So many times he’d fantasized about loving her this way...

He closed his eyes, commanding what was left of his self-control. All he needed to do was move a fraction forward. Only a fraction... and then suckle...

But it would frighten her, he knew.

As much as he wished to believe she was wise to his needs, that she shared them—that she knew where this petting and fondling would lead—he recognized innocence when faced with it. She was too bloody naive to even know how to restrain her newly awakened passions.

Damn, but he wanted this.

Closing his eyes in an attempt to regain his composure, he caught the heady scent of lilacs—perhaps from a sachet secreted beneath her undergarments—and he was at once thankful for his tight breeches to conceal the evidence upon which she was so innocently perched.

Seeming to recover her senses, and squirmed, trying to remove herself from his lap, but his hand tightened about her arm, stilling her movements. He groaned in pleasure and in pain and she froze, meeting his gaze.

She tried again to rise, but with a firm hand to her back, he brought her forward for another kiss instead.

Ah, but Christ, he couldn’t help himself.

He thought to make it brief, just a quick peck, but when his lips touched hers, and she parted them so sweetly, he nearly lost his will. Her mouth was too warm, her breath too sweet. He kissed her hungrily, savoring the moment like a man starved.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that if he didn’t lift her from his person this very instant, she would soon discern the lump she was perched upon so unsuspectingly was no simple lump, at all. Worse, he might completely forget their surroundings and be tempted to make love to her here under the twilight sky.

She deserved better, he reasoned desperately, searching diligently for the impostor gentleman within—the one who seemed so eager to be all that she desired.

Perhaps the man had fled?

He hoped, and yet, he felt inclined to seek him out once more.

They would doubtless be discovered before the first raindrops fell—which would be any moment if he scented it right. He peered up at the darkening sky.

If not that, then Mrs. Brown might decide to take exception to his loving her and nab his rear.

If not Mrs. Brown... then perhaps one of the other two occupants of the enclosure. The last thing he desired were teeth marks upon his arse... or pistols at dawn.

Or perhaps that was precisely what he hoped for.

To face a pair of barking irons… with her brother at the other end.

Sighing regretfully, he caught Jessie with both hands at the waist—and fought the incredible urge to slide his hands upward, cup them about the tantalizing flesh she’d only just tempted him with.

Blast it all, he was going to sorely regret this visit tonight when he lay alone in his bed.

“I believe I scent rain,” he said thickly, his voice sounding strangled even to his own ears. “Much as I’ve enjoyed this...” He eyed her meaningfully. “I fear I must be off before it pours,
m’mselle
.” And then slowly, though reluctant to do so, he lifted her from his person, cursing roundly to himself as he did so.

Jessie nodded, though she seemed not to have heard a word he’d said. Christian knew the very instant she regained her wits because her face flushed a rosy pink. He couldn’t quite bring himself to apologize, however, for he wasn’t the least bit sorry for what little had passed between them. In truth, he might have preferred to have something of which to be repentant. Still, he didn’t wish to embarrass her more than she likely would be when she realized what liberties she’d allowed him, so he remained seated upon the ground and lifted a knee to conceal his
amatory
state.

When he made no move to rise, Jessie seemed to forget her chagrin at once, eyeing him solicitously. “Oh my! Are you hurt, my lord?”

Shaking his head at her naïveté, he chuckled ruefully.

Christ, but he was going to suffer tonight.

“Let me help you!” she offered and extended her hand in aid.

He waved her away, clearing his throat. “In an instant, Jessie. I’m just a wee bit... stiff at the moment.” He peered up at her, gauging her expression, and smiled grimly when she clearly didn’t understand his meaning. “The fall,” he suggested.

“But you’re not hurt?” she asked, her tone filled with concern.

Enormously relieved that she’d not understood his lecherous jest, he said, “I assure you,
m’mselle
that I shall live.”

To his great misfortune.

At her doubtful expression, he rose as proof. “See.” He grinned then, seizing her by the chin, and raising her face to place a perfectly chaste kiss upon the bridge of her nose. He turned her about so that she couldn’t spy his brick hard arousal.

She seemed reassured, though even as she turned to smile up at him, the first raindrops struck her full in the face. She mopped them away with a sleeve, and laughed softly. “I do believe it’s going to rain, my lord,” she told him, her humor restored. “I commend your unerring nose.” She bolted toward the gate. “Follow me!”

He didn’t dare.

He waited until she was out of the gate, racing toward the shelter of the house before bothering to move. And then reluctantly, he scaled the fence and seizing his reins, he mounted his horse.

Realizing at last that he wasn’t following her, she halted abruptly, whirling about.

“Don’t stop!” he shouted. “Get yourself home, lest you be caught in the downpour!”

She stood, nevertheless, rain soaking her to the bone, reluctant to leave him, sheltering her face with her hand. Instinctively he understood why, and it warmed his heart.

“I’ll call again tomorrow,” he swore, and then added, “I promise!”

She smiled beautifully.

Wheeling his mount about, he cast her a backward glance. She was still watching, despite that it was raining harder now, and he pivoted his mount to face her. His steed pranced impatiently, eager to leave.

He advanced upon her suddenly, and said impulsively, “Meet me by the brook... noon tomorrow?”

Her brow furrowed. “I... I don’t know…”

“Noon,” he said again, and prayed she’d refuse him.

She nodded and he smiled down at her, giving her a final salutory wink.

“Till then, my love,” he said, and turned to leave before she could rethink the wisdom of what she’d agreed to.

Before his damnable conscience could interfere yet again. With all his heart and soul, he wanted Jessie.

T
rue to his word, Christian materialized by the brook precisely at noon—equipped for a picnic. Jessie was delighted that he’d taken the time to consider so much, and she chided herself for worrying over naught.

Once again they whiled away the hours conversing, and she sighed contentedly as she listened to him. He was so wonderful, so very wonderful—magnificently handsome, too.

Languishing in the heat of the day, he’d removed his frock coat. It lay forgotten now upon the grass. His crisp white shirt, with its perfect pristine ruffles and folds, he wore recklessly unbuttoned at the neckline, long having discarded the stock. Jessie found herself staring at him more oft than not, powerless to dispel from her mind the memory of his kiss; it kindled a strange warmth within her every time she thought of it.

Plucking a small yellow blossom, she peered up -at him through her lashes, praying he couldn’t discern the wickedness of her thoughts. She twirled the bloom between her fingertips, wondering how long it would be before he would try to kiss her again.

Would he?

Did she wish him to?

Her cheeks burned as she acknowledged the truth, impossible as it was to deny. She’d broken the rules of propriety by coming alone to this secluded place without a chaperon. Why else would she have done so, but in hopes that he would... if only once more? She cast him another surreptitious glance, and her heart fluttered wildly.

God have mercy, she yearned for it, even, as one would hunger for food or thirst for drink, or even want for sleep. She was consumed by the desire for it. His kiss had somehow awakened some unfamiliar yearning within her, and even when she’d fallen asleep last eve, tossing and turning, it had not fled her. Lord help her, she’d dreamed of him even then.

Seeing the adoring look in her eyes, Christian felt his stomach knot. She seemed to see in him only what she wished to and nothing more.

What might she think if she knew him for what he truly was? If she knew what base thoughts burned through his mind, what sordid desires slithered through his veins?

Christ, the things he wanted to do to her even now as she gazed up at him so worshipfully. He could think of little more than taking her within his arms and initiating her beautiful body into glorious womanhood.

Only, for the first time in his life... there was something more than mere lust that compelled him. And still....

His jaw turned taut, for it was merely a matter of time before she discovered his true nature.

She might as well know it of him now.

This moment.

Before he might be tempted to lay his heart at her mercy. And God save him if that ever came to be, for if he allowed it... she had it within her power to crush him beneath those precious feet of hers.

Suddenly he felt the need to shock her. “What might you think, Jess, if I told you I was bastard born? Would you still look at me with such reverence?” The words had come bluntly, his tone hinting at all that was loathsome about his life.

A vision came upon him of himself as a superstitious peasant warding away evil with a makeshift cross. If it weren’t such a pathetic image, he might have been amused.

Was he so desperate to save himself from the devotion so evident in her beautiful eyes?

Christ... but those eyes had the power to reach so deep into his soul... the power to touch his very heart. Somehow she made him want to be all that she believed of him.