Authors: Heather Graham
“Where is Jassy?”
“Why, milord!” Molly said innocently, “Jassy is about business. One cannot sleep late and tarry here, sir. This
is
the New World. Nay, milord, not even nobility and gentry can while away precious time here.”
“Molly, where is my wife?”
“Why, she is seeing that the meat in the smoke shed is coming along properly. The game has been slim of late, as you can imagine, I am certain. But Powan and his men were by recently. Jassy made him a satin shirt from some of the fabric that arrived upon the
Lady Destiny
, and he was quite pleased with it. He has brought up many rabbits, and a great deal of pumpkin bread in turn.”
Jamie shot up, then remembered that he was naked, and jerked the covers up. “Powan?” he demanded.
“Oh, yes, the chief has been around often, as have many of the Indians. Lord Newbury was in from Jamestown, and everyone seems to be getting along very well. The Indians are often helping the settlers these days. Isn’t it wonderful?”
“Wonderful,” Jamie murmured. Powan was an old friend, but he had not expected to see him this far south upon the peninsula at this time of the year.
And he had certainly never expected Jassy to make the Indian a shirt. Wryly he realized that he had not expected Jassy ever to speak to an Indian, much less form the facsimile of a friendship. He would be curious to hear more about the affair.
A man could never fathom what might happen in his absence, he determined.
“Has anything else happened which I should know about?” he asked Molly, crossing his arms over his chest.
“No, milord.”
“Did you know that Jassy has distressing nightmares?”
Molly’s eyes lowered quickly. “We are all plagued by dreams now and then.”
Molly wasn’t going to say any more. Jamie grunted. He noted the warm, luxurious fox fur that stretched out at the foot of the bed. “So the
Lady Destiny
arrived with her cargo.”
“Oh, yes!” Molly was all animation again. “Jassy—Lady Cameron—was so pleased with the things!”
So pleased … oh, yes, his wife could be purchased.
“Milord, is there anything else?”
Jamie scowled. “Yes, Mistress Molly, I would like you out of my room so that I might dress. Now!”
Molly jumped and fled. Jamie rose and folded his buckskins and sought out his good Englishwear. In satin breeches, silk shirt, and a woolen doublet he set out for the day, anxious for the business at hand.
He met with Sir William, and William told him about the day when Powan had come and first met Jassy. William grinned. “He told her that he thought she was a good choice for you—she would work hard in your fields and bear you many children.”
“That must have gone over well,” Jamie murmured.
Sir William was amused.
“She handled herself most admirably.”
“I am sure that she did,” Jamie said. Then he told William about his visit to Opechancanough, warning Sir William that he was worried, though he could not pinpoint the danger. “We must keep up a careful eye,” Jamie warned, and Sir William agreed.
Later that day he met with Captain Stewart and gave him his sailing orders. The captain’s cargo of tobacco for England was loaded. He chewed on his pipe, enjoying the Virginia tobacco himself while he watched the loading with Jamie on the dock. He would return in the
spring with the supplies ordered from the mother country.
Late in the afternoon Elizabeth found him, and she proudly showed him that she had not only learned to carry one of the heavy muskets but to load and fire it, and actually to hit a tree as well. “Jassy taught me,” she told him proudly.
Jamie wasn’t sure why, but he was further irritated.
Then Jassy did not appear at the dinner table—she was still engaged in some task or another, Lenore told him. Jamie liked Lenore well enough, and he was very fond of Elizabeth, and Robert was his friend. But they needed to be in their own home, and he would see that they moved quickly, he vowed to himself.
Still weary from his all-night ride to reach home, he climbed the stairs to his room, his temper seething as he wondered about the whereabouts of his wife.
He was not to wonder long.
She was seated upon the foot of the bed, her legs curled beneath her. She was dressed in a diaphanous gown that clearly delineated every full, sensual, and sexual curve of her body. She brushed her hair into silky strands. Her movements were slow and sensual, and the mere sight of her sent him floundering into a stream of desire. He took care, though, walking to his desk, sitting behind it and folding his hands and watching her thoughtfully.
He wondered at her motive.
He did not see the hurt in her eyes as he ignored her; he only saw that she was playing at seduction, the actress again. He did not want an act, and he did not want a game.
“Why weren’t you at dinner?” he asked her.
She stretched, graceful, entirely feline, feminine, and exciting. The deep rouge crests of her swelling breasts strained against the silk gauze of her gown, and she smiled lazily. “I looked after the meat we are still preparing for the winter today. I seemed to be filled with the scent of smoke, and so I bathed and washed my hair, and then I needed to dry before the fire.
The fire … the firelight played all over her. It enhanced
the curves that teased him beneath the evocative gown. It made her hair gleam like goldleaf, and her skin, too, seemed to gleam golden. He gritted his teeth and watched her from narrowed, suspicious eyes.
She yawned deliciously, and stretched again. Graceful, unbearably sensual. He rose and walked over to her. He took the brush from her fingers and leaned over her with twisted tension that forced her back upon the bed. He planted his palms on either side of her head. “What is this display, madame?”
Her eyelashes flickered uncertainly. “I did not get to thank you this morning for the many gifts you sent aboard the
Lady Destiny
—”
She did not finish speaking; he swore with a startling violence and pushed away from her. “You really are a whore, milady, aren’t you? Determined to pay your debts.”
Shock registered on her features, a look of naked pain that passed by so quickly that he might have imagined it, and then a look of raw fury and hatred. She lashed out in rage, railing against him, trying to strike him. He caught her wrists, and to his astonishment she fought on, kneeing him curtly in the groin. Stunned and in agony, he fell from her.
She leapt up and swept her new furred cloak around her and stared down at him scathingly. “You needn’t worry, milord, you haven’t the price to pay any more, ever!”
“Jasmine …” he began in a growl. He meant to catch her. He was in pain and his temper was seething, and he meant to have it out then and there. She was too quick for him. She was gone. In her sheer gown and her furred cloak, she was gone.
Of all the people that Jassy did not want to see at the moment, the half-breed girl, Hope, might surely have topped her list.
No one else was about when she reached the downstairs hall, but the beautiful, honey-colored girl sat at
the table eating stew with her fingers. She saw Jassy and smiled at her agitation.
“What are you doing here?” Jassy asked her.
Hope licked her fingers very slowly and completely. “I am eating my dinner. I traveled with Lord Jamie, and so now I am here, in his hall.” She stared pointedly at Jassy, then looked up the stairway and rolled her eyes. “What are you doing here, lady?”
Jassy fought back the temptation to slap the girl’s face.
“It is my house, Hope. I belong here.”
“You belong up there, with him. It is
his
house.”
She stiffened, because the girl was right. And she had to sit, suddenly feeling very ill because she should have been with him, but she should have never, never made such a fool of herself. She was incapable of being a temptress, and now she hated her husband all over again because …
He had spurned her advance; he had called her a whore. And here was this half-pagan strumpet instructing her about duty!
Hope began to chuckle. “So you do not please him so much anymore. You should try harder. He is a man to be cherished.” She seemed to purr the last words, and the sound scraped along Jassy’s back. She gritted her teeth together hard.
“Hope, you are an insolent creature.
I
am none of
your
business, and neither is Lord Cameron.”
“Lord Cameron might well be my business.” Smiling, Hope sat back. Then she leaned toward Jassy, and it was evident that she wore no stays beneath her simple gown; her large breasts swayed with her every movement. To Jassy’s amazement, Hope spread out her hands, making an imaginary measurement. “If you do not care for Lord Jamie, I will, lady. He is the finest man I have ever seen.”
Jassy realized that Hope was measuring the most masculine part of her husband’s anatomy. Anger flared within her so hotly that she seemed to see red. Dizziness swept her.
She stood. “How dare you!” she grated out. Without much thought she set her hands firmly upon the girl’s
shoulders, wrenching her like a little child from the table. She set her down upon her feet and turned her toward the door. “Out! And do not come back!”
By that time, Jassy heard footsteps hurrying down the stairs. Jamie—she had forgotten him in the depths of her rage.
His hair was mussed, and he was barefoot and clad only in a pair of breeches. As soon as he appeared, Hope set up a wail. She raced for him, throwing herself against his chest when he reached the landing. She set up a horrible wailing.
“What in the Lord’s name—” Jamie looked from Hope to Jassy. Jassy stood silent in rage, and Hope began to cry. “She beats me, she sets her hands upon me and beats and throws me out into the snow—”
“Jassy, is this—”
Jassy didn’t let him finish speaking. She came up to the two of them, slapped him across the face with a stunning blow, and headed for the door. “No, I did not beat her. And I will not throw her out into the snow.
I
am going!”
She didn’t realize until she stepped outside and bitter cold knifed into her that she wasn’t wearing shoes. She had walked at least twenty feet before it registered in her mind that she had nowhere to go, and
had
she had somewhere to go, she could not make it there barefoot.
It didn’t matter. By then, Jamie was behind her. He ran like light, sweeping her into his arms, catapulting her into the snow. She gasped and sputtered the white flakes from her mouth and looked up to see that he was bare-chested and shivering and furious.
“Madame, once we are both back in that house and thawed, I intend to wring your neck.”
“My neck! You bloody, lying knave!”
“What? Never mind!”
He rose, wincing, swearing once again that if they both lived with all their limbs and extremities intact, she would pay dearly. He pulled her up, lifted her into his arms, and, looking straight ahead, carried her back to the house.
Hope was gone and the hall was empty, but were it not, she was certain that her husband would have behaved in the same heedless manner. He thundered up the steps, tearing into her verbally, swearing that she was a fool, and a fool risking the life and health of an innocent child as well as her own.
She fought his hold. Once they had reached the harbor of their room, he freely let her go, setting her before the fire while he came close to singeing his hand and feet, trying to warm them. “I should beat you—” he began, his teeth chattering, but Jassy was already on her feet.
“Beat me? Nay, milord, you snake! You cast doubt upon an innocent friendship while you lie in my face!”
“What are you talking about?” he said, exploding.
Her cloak was tangled about her and falling. Jassy impatiently tossed it down and leaned forward as Hope had done, displaying the fullness of her breasts temptingly before him. “What am I talking about?” she repeated, mimicking Hope. “I am talking about you—and the piece of your anatomy that rules your heart and stupid mind!” She put her hands out as Hope had done, showing him an extremely accurate measurement of size.
“What?” he repeated.
She swung, intending to strike him again. He wouldn’t allow it. He caught her arm, she spun into his arms, and he held her tight. “Let me go!” she demanded, wild with fury.
Suddenly he was laughing. “You’re jealous.”
“You will never touch me again, I do not care about marriage vows or—”
“Jassy, I never touched her!”
“She has seen you—bare. I know it!”
He whirled her around and looked into the wild tempest of her eyes, and it made the pulse of desire within him shoot and sear like gunfire. He carried her over to the bed and set her down, and when she tried to rise, he cast the weight of his leg over hers, taking care of the babe but pinning her down. He started to untie his
breeches, and she went wild, tossing like a wild pony beneath him. “You will not—”
His breeches were free. He leaned over her, pinning her wrists with his hand, finding her body unbearably evocative beneath the gauzy gown. He caressed the full, firm weight of her breast while she squirmed and swore, and when she tired, he spoke again. “She saw me, yes. But I never lay with her, Jassy, never, and I will swear it upon the Bible before Father Steven. She appeared here one night, determined on seduction, but I did not touch her.”
She went still, watching him suspiciously. He bent his head and sucked her breast over the gauze of the gown. He felt her grow taut beneath him. “Why not?” she whispered.
“You were on my mind,” he murmured, lightly closing his teeth over her nipple. Her head twisted and her body suddenly surged against his, and he slipped his hand between her thighs, and then rolled suddenly, dragging her around. His eyes heavy-lidded and sultry, he smiled at her vulnerability. “I swear!” he repeated, tugging her gown high. “Love me, wife. I’ve no need for any woman—nay, any life or sustenance!—but you.”
He tugged up her gown, caught her hips, and brought her slowly down upon him. When he began to fill her, she suddenly resisted.
“I tried!” she choked out. “You—”
“You tied my heart and mind and loins all in a knot together, and I humbly beg your forgiveness!” he claimed. He caught her hips and brought her fully down, and he watched the beauty of her face as the passion caught hold of her. Moments later he found the hem of her gown, tossed it over her head, and he was swamped with the heady passion that possessed him as she moved, fluid as a river, graceful and sweet, her back arching, her breasts full and bouncing before him. In the end he caught her to him, and she was soaked and exhausted and completely sated. She didn’t speak. She fell silent beside him.