The More I See You (25 page)

“Astute and beautiful. Tell me, Lady Jessica. Whence do you hail?”

“’Tis on no map you’ll ever see,” Richard interrupted with a grumble.

Jessica smiled serenely. “It is rather far away.”

“Then it will obviously require a great deal of time to explain where it is,” Kendrick said delightedly, as if he’d just come up with a brilliant scheme. “Richard, fetch some weak wine and join us in your solar. I’m sure being out in this sun cannot be good for this sweet maid.”

Richard took Jessica’s hand and pulled her away. “This sweet maid, as you call her, has work to do. Go finish my floor, Jessica. I’m sure Kendrick will survive without your attentions for the next little while.”

“How possessive you are, my lord,” Kendrick said, his eyes twinkling. “This is a new side of you, Richard. It’s charming, truly.”

Richard dropped Jessica’s hand immediately. He was mortified to feel a blush creeping up his cheeks. Damnation, he hated feeling off balance.

“Bed her then, if you like,” he snarled. “It matters not to me.”

Jessica took a step back. “I’d love to join you two, but I do have to finish my floor before sunset. Richard, perhaps you’d rather see Lord Kendrick seated comfortably in the gathering chamber while you go upstairs and tidy up.”

“Tidy up?” he snapped.

“Last night’s project,” she said, meeting his gaze.
“We wouldn’t want our guest to be disturbed by all that mess, would we?”

Richard remembered: his painting. He’d painted before and Kendrick had seen it, but it had been nude harem women. Landscapes with tame rabbits lolling about in spring flowers would likely send Artane into fits of giggles.

“Aye, come on,” Richard said, snagging Kendrick by the sleeve and pulling him.

“Good morrow to you, Jessie,” Kendrick called.

“Jessica,” Richard said, giving Kendrick another jerk. “Her name is Jessica!”

By the time he’d tossed Kendrick into the gathering chamber, then run up the stairs to his own bedchamber, he was in a black mood. Exchanging old tales with a friend while there was nothing else in the chamber but a few bottles of strong drink was one thing; having said friend come and gape at your lady and be unable to do aught about it was another thing entirely—something he wasn’t sure he cared for in the least.

He gave himself a good shake once he was alone. He didn’t care what happened. Jessica could bed Kendrick if she wished. Hell, Kendrick could carry her off and marry both her
and
Matilda. Aye, life would be better that way. He’d have a very vexing problem off his hands. He didn’t care for Jessica anyway. She was contrary and opinionated and she was a terrible distraction not only to him but to his men. Her and her future foolishness, he reminded himself. Aye, he never truly believed it anyway.

Aye, Burwyck-on-the-Sea as a whole would be better off without her.

He
would
be better off without her.

He was just sure he could convince himself of that, given the right amount of time.

Jessica stared over the chessboard, puzzling out more than her next move. The entire chamber was thick with stratagem. There was Kendrick, who seemed harmless enough, a playboy who was sure of his good looks and wore casualness like a shield. She had the feeling that one day a woman might find that a serious, devoted man lay beneath all that polish, but it would take a while.

Then there was Richard, who sat on her right hand facing the fire. His chin rested on his steepled fingers and he looked completely bored with the goings-on.

A sure sign he was thinking too hard.

About what? was the question. Surely he didn’t think he had competition from Kendrick. Kendrick was gorgeous, witty, and should have had her falling at his feet from his slick compliments; he might have, had things been different or had she met him first. But she’d become so enamored of buried compliments and scowls that anything else seemed too sweet.

Besides, Richard was just so arresting, with his powerful physique and stern features. Rugged. Unyielding. The man just brought out all the womanly instincts in her. She wanted to tease him into giving her the smile she had
yet to see. She wanted him to back her up against a wall, look down at her with that intense, stifling look he had, then lower his mouth to hers and kiss her until she was out of her mind.

It was starting to sound uncomfortably like a project relationship, but if there was anyone who wouldn’t submit to that kind of thing, it was Richard. She was safe from her own instincts.

“Jessica?”

Jessica dragged her eyes from Richard and blinked. “Yes?”

Kendrick smiled. “I believe you are in deep peril, my lady.”

Jessica turned her attention back to the board. She was doomed. All that she had left was her king and few insignificant pawns. She looked at Richard.

“Don’t you feel the urge to help me save myself?” she asked.

“I couldn’t care less about the outcome,” he snapped.

“Wine?” Kendrick offered politely, holding out the bottle.

“Not for Richard,” Jessica put in quickly. That, at least, earned her a deep scowl. Richard waved away the bottle and slumped down farther in his chair, his expression positively grim.

“I offered it to you, my lady,” Kendrick said, “not Richard, for I know his habits well. He was the only one any of us could ever count on to be sober. He saved my life more times than I want to admit thanks to his having a clear head.”

“Please spare us the tales,” Richard said, his tone positively frosty.

Jessica wanted to get the game over with as soon as possible, and perhaps flee to higher ground, so she recklessly plunged her king ahead into Kendrick’s trap.

“Checkmate,” he said cheerfully as he moved his queen. “Let’s start again, shall we? Richard, she’s quite good. You should play her once. I’ll aid her in besting you.”

“I don’t want to play.”

Jessica would have laughed had Richard’s expression not been so forbidding. There was serious disgruntlement going on, though she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why. He couldn’t be jealous, could he?

Impossible.

Kendrick set up the board again. “Spain, aye?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “I remember the man that made this set. Richard purchased a sword and paid the man a fortune to fashion these pieces. Unfortunately there was only one countess to spare in the area.” He winked. “I was more interested in a real woman than one made of gold or silver.”

“Richard came away with a chess set. What did you get?” she asked.

Kendrick laughed. “Saints, you wound me! My heart was shattered when she cast me aside for another.”

“Right,” Jessica said with a snort. “For what, all of an hour?”

“At least a pair of days.”

“You aren’t planning on telling your wife all these things, are you?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“A wise decision.”

“Thank you, lady,” Kendrick said gravely. “Now, come, and tell me of your home.”

“I told you,” Richard growled, “it doesn’t matter.”

“It’s a long way away,” Jessica supplied. “I was born in a little town on the shore called Edmonds. I haven’t lived there in quite some time.”

“Oh?” Kendrick said, looking up from the board.

She shook her head. “I lived in a larger city. I’m a composer.”

“Richard, you said naught of this!” Kendrick exclaimed. “Why, she shall play for us tonight. Fetch your lute, my friend.”

“I knew nothing of it,” Richard said curtly.

“You never asked,” Jessica pointed out.

“I would have, had you not been so busy telling me
you were my equal and devising ways to prove it to me,” he shot back.

“Come, children,” Kendrick laughed. “Cease with the bickering. Jessica, I’ll let you play for Richard alone, then perhaps you’ll favor us both with a ballad or two. And I would hear more of this other talk. Women are equal to men?”

“They are—”

“They aren’t—”

Jessica glared at Richard. “We’ve had this discussion before.”

“And never agreed upon anything!”

“I’m building your hall.”

“And leaving my toes poking through my hose!”

“It isn’t my fault I can’t sew.”

“It is when my clothes are falling apart!”

Jessica glared at Kendrick. “Excuse me.”

“By all means,” Kendrick said, holding up his hands in surrender.

Jessica jumped up, avoided Richard’s hand when he tried to grab her, and strode to the door. She jerked it open, slammed it behind her, and fled up the stairs. She heard the door bang not five seconds later and heavy footsteps come running up behind her. She hadn’t made it to the roof before Richard had caught her and spun her around.

“Just leave me alone,” she spat. “You rude, arrogant jerk!”

“Me?” he thundered. “Why, you stubborn, arrogant shrew!”

“I am not arrogant!”

“Aye, you are!”

She turned her face away, hoping she wouldn’t make a fool of herself by crying. “Please,” she said quietly. “Please, just leave me alone.”

He was silent so long that she finally had to look at him. By the light of the torch, she saw the expression she hadn’t seen since the first night he’d kissed her.

Intensity.

He backed her up against the wall, set her bodily on the step above him, and rested his foot on the step above her. She was trapped.

Happily.

“I can’t,” he whispered. “I want to and I’ll be damned for it, I’m sure, but I can’t leave you be.”

And then he kissed her.

His kiss was painful. Jessica managed to move her head from beneath his only by scraping the back of it against the stone.

“You’re hurting me,” she gasped.

He started to pull away, but she caught him by the shoulders.

“Don’t stop,” she said, then wanted to squirm at the look of surprise in his eye. “Well, don’t look at me that way. I’m just being honest.”

He was silent. Then he lifted his hand and carefully slipped it under her hair, cradling the back of her head in his palm. Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. Jessica stopped clutching his shoulders and let her arms find their way around his neck.

His kiss was magic.

“Oh, Jess,” he said at length.

“No, don’t think,” she whispered. “Just kiss me again, Richard. I’ve wanted this since the last time you did it.”

“You did?”

“Didn’t you know?”

He shook his head, mute.

“For being such a superior warrior, you aren’t very observant.”

“You’re completely beyond my scope of experience.”

She smiled and closed her eyes, lifting her face up. She sighed silently the moment his lips touched hers. He kissed her softly, as gently as she’d asked. He tasted the fullness of her lips, the corners, brushing kiss after kiss against her lips. Maybe his words were never tender; his expressions certainly weren’t. His kisses were another story. His hand trembled against the nape of her neck, his body trembled in her arms. His mouth was exquisitely soft
against hers, just whispers of kisses that never quite satisfied. Jessica wondered if she’d ever have enough of them.

“Richard,” she said pulling away, “why are you shaking?”

The troubled look hadn’t faded from his eyes.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” she promised.

“I just did.”

“You slammed me back against the wall. I would have hurt you if I’d done the same thing.”

He grunted, but said no more.

“I’m trying to soothe you,” she offered.

“What would soothe me is to hear you say nothing else to Kendrick of Artane until he leaves.”

“I’m just being polite.”

“I don’t like it,” Richard said, his words clipped.

She felt a grin creep out. “If I didn’t think it would make you more impossible than you already are, I might tell you what I think when I compare him to you.”

Richard pulled completely away. “I don’t want to know,” he said flatly. He turned and started down the stairs.

“Richard?”

He stopped, but he didn’t turn around.

“The countess was a fool to choose him,” she said softly.

He looked over his shoulder up at her, then faced forward again and walked down the stairs. Jessica leaned back against the wall and put her hand to her mouth, feeling the tingle still there. Richard was jealous. He was jealous and he’d followed her, intending to kiss the hell out of her to show her.

It took a while before she was certain her legs would carry her, but eventually she walked down the stairs and back into the room. Richard was in his chair, Kendrick was in his chair, and all was right with the world. Jessica sat down and smiled at them both.

“Kendrick, why don’t you tell us some more stories?” she asked, trying to sound like the epitome of politeness. “I think I’ll spend the rest of the night not saying anything, if no one minds.” She looked at Richard and met his eyes. “Shouting at the men all day has given me a sore throat. I think I’ll rest my voice. Maybe for a few days. Who knows?”

Richard was, as usual, speechless.

Kendrick shrugged, then obliged her by talking for most of the evening. Richard cursed and grunted at his stories but not once did he smile. Jessica began to lose hope of ever seeing a grin tossed her way. He was obviously very good friends with Kendrick, if the stories Kendrick told were true, yet he couldn’t give his friend a smile? Kendrick didn’t seem fazed by it. He teased Richard with enthusiasm, seemingly uncaring if he got a scowl or a harsh word.

Jessica didn’t say anything, but she spent all night laughing and trying not to laugh. Kendrick was a fabulous storyteller and he didn’t lack for material. He told dozens of humorous stories about Richard executing daring rescues, humiliating fat, stupid lords, and generally raising a lot of hell. It didn’t take much to figure out that Richard had delighted in thumbing his nose at convention. Being back in England had obviously tamed him quite a bit, but she had no difficulty imagining him in his black-sheep costume.

And it gave her insight into what he’d become after leaving home. She knew he’d gone to Artane at twelve. Kendrick had even shared a story or two about Richard’s time there, but those had been brief, almost compulsory anecdotes. Richard’s rigid posture during the telling of them made Jessica glad when Kendrick chose another topic. She shuddered to think how deeply he must hate his father. And she definitely didn’t want to think about what Geoffrey had done to deserve it.