Amber (Jewel Trilogy, Book 3) (37 page)

Kendra woke to a husky whisper in her ear.

"I have a present for you,
leannan
."

Her head was lifted, and something cool and heavy slid down about her neck. Sleepily she reached for it, her fingers meeting a strand of smooth, hard orbs that could only be pearls.

Her eyes flew open. "Has it an amber clasp?"

"But of course." Standing over her stark naked, her husband smiled. Dear God, he looked gorgeous, every muscle outlined in the low light of the fire. "Charles tried to give me a solid gold platter as a reward, but I would have none of it."

She ran her tongue over her teeth, thinking of that tiny chip in his. "Well, are you going to come down here and let me thank you?"

She sighed as he joined her beneath the coverlet and settled his warm body beside hers, then laughed when he reached for the hem of her chemise and tried to pull it off, needing to draw it through the necklace to accomplish his goal. With a grin, she grabbed the far end of the long strand and slipped it over his head, roping him close.

"I've got you," she said.

"You certainly have." His mouth met hers for a long kiss, and she melted happily into his embrace.

No matter how many times he did this, she still thrilled like it was the first. A shiver of wanting rippled through her as she thought of all the times ahead.

A flush heated her skin, warming the pearls that draped heavily on her neck. When he rolled the two of them to their sides, the strand tangled between them, and she reached to pull it off.

"I'll take those,
leannan
." He held out his hand. And she gave them over, expecting him to drop them to the night table, as she had been about to do.

But instead, he just held the long rope in the air.

"They're beautiful," she said, watching them swing gently, firelight dancing off the gleaming round surfaces.

"Not half as beautiful as you." She'd never thought of herself as beautiful, and she swallowed hard as he brought the pearls under the covers and started drawing them over her body. Slowly. "Do you know how much I care for you, lass?"

Breathlessly caught in his gaze, she felt each individual pearl, an entire long row of them, skim her sensitive skin. "How much?" she whispered.

"Enough to make me question my loyalties."

Loyalties? Though she didn't quite understand, she could tell the admission was wrenched from somewhere deep inside him, and it softened the pain of not hearing the words she'd so desperately hoped he would say.

I love you.

She should tell him first, she thought, feeling light-headed as the pearls continued their sensual assault on her body. Over her arms, her back, her legs, her hip, her side, making soft little clicks as they went. Then up to trail her breasts, hitching as they caught on a nipple.

A shiver lanced through her. She should tell him first.

But she couldn't. Because he was still holding back.

Not here, though. Not now. He arranged the pearls around her breasts and leaned away. "Lovely," he murmured.

She mustered a weak smile. "I don't think that's the way they're meant to be worn. Rather scandalous, don't you think?"

"At King Charles's court? Not a soul would even take notice." But he drew them off and bunched them in a hand, meeting her lips for a desperate kiss.

There was something about him tonight...something about the way his tongue swept her mouth, the way his hands worshipped her body, the way he molded his flesh to match every curve of hers. Something. Something that made her feel, even though he was more of a man than she'd known existed, that somewhere inside lurked a lost little boy. Waiting to get hurt.

So she was gentle tonight, and he was gentle in return, running the bunched pearls over her skin in a heavenly, softly clicking massage. Guided by his hand, they rolled between her breasts and over a hip and down to her thighs. Her own hands skimmed his skin, soothing, everywhere she could reach. She sighed into his mouth, and his tongue stroked hers, more softly than she could remember, so cherishing that tears welled in her eyes and threatened to slip between her closed lids.

"Open for me,
leannan
." A thick, velvet-edged whisper, his voice sent a gust of desire shuddering through her. And because she wanted to please him, she did what he asked, parting her legs until she lay there, flat on the bed, wantonly open and ready. Then gasped when he drew the pearls, that long, long strand, agonizingly slowly between them.

She felt every pearl distinctly, felt herself moisten as they slipped. She wanted him there, filling her where she ached. "Oh, God, Trick."

"Hush," he murmured, nuzzling her throat. He suckled her breasts, her nipples rising to hard points that he circled with his tongue. While down below, the pearls continued their exquisite trail along where she wanted him, deep inside.

This was torment, but oh, so sweet, each individual pearl driving her to distraction. "I cannot stand this, Trick. It's too much." She reached for his free hand, clenching it hard in hers.

"I cannot stand it, either," he grated out, and he yanked the pearls away, coming over her to join their bodies together.

Her rush of relief lasted mere seconds before a new sense of urgency overwhelmed her. She wrapped him with her legs, her fingers threading in his hair, little sounds escaping her throat as his hips drove every thought but him from her mind. She rocked against him, wanting him closer, closer, hearing his breath ragged in her ear. Her heart pounded against his as her hands worked down his back and lower to pull him closer still.

If only she could climb the last of that wall and finally make them one.

Then, for one split second of infinity, they
were
one.

A long time later, Trick felt beneath the coverlet for the pearls, smiling when he found and snagged them. Drawing them out, he held them to his nose, breathing deep of her sweet scent before he dangled them above her head. "Do you like these,
leannan
?"

"In more ways than I could have imagined." Her smile, soft and achingly erotic, lit his heart. "But Trick..."

"Aye?"

"I mostly like them because we can sell them."

His fingers tightened around them. "No, lass. They're for you."

She grabbed them from his hands, cradling them against her breasts. "They would feed the children for a decade, you said. No longer will you have to be a highwayman. I was going to beg you to stop anyway, Trick—I cannot stand the thought of you being hurt or caught in the act." If her smile had lit his heart, her words melted it. "It's bad of me, I know, but you're much more important than the children. To me. The most important thing in my life."

She looked pained at that guilty admission, but not as pained as he felt inside. That she could put him above everything else...if only he hadn't the obligations that kept him from doing the same.

If only.

"Do you see the gift that Charles has given us?" She held it up. "We no longer have to choose between your safety and the children's welfare." Looking half-wistful, half-thrilled, she brought the pearls to her lips. "I'll sell them tomorrow. And I have other ideas as well, for how we can help more children. This—this gift—will get us started."

Her enthusiasm was more than he could bear. Soon he could bring her to the docks, show her whichever of his ships were in port, tell her that he could support all the orphanages she wanted. Soon this would be over, and he vowed to himself he'd be honest with his wife for the rest of his life. He would never make another promise that would be this hard to keep.

"You're not selling them tomorrow," he told her, peeling her fingers from the pearls. He lifted the strand and slipped it back over her head. "We're going home tomorrow. And I promise you, the children won't starve."

Back at Amberley the next day, Trick barely took time to see their luggage brought in before readying himself to leave.

Stunned, Kendra stood in their bedchamber watching him knot a fresh cravat. "We just got here."

"I have an errand I must see to," he told her, not quite meeting her eyes.

"An errand?" Although he was standing close, she felt as though he'd physically pulled away. "Are you going out to play the highwayman again? I told you—"

"Nay. I'm done with that."

And he wasn't wearing black—he'd dressed in a simple brown suit and white shirt. She should have noticed that. Her usually sharp powers of observation were dulled by disappointment.

Just last night, she'd felt so emotionally attached. She'd thought that with everything they'd shared in Scotland and since, things would be different now. But no matter that his hair had been cut and his eyes were unshielded—he was hiding from her again.

She backed away to sit on the gaudy red bed, her fingers going to the pearls around her neck. "If you won't sell these and you won't play the highwayman, where will we find the money for the children?"

"I told you last night," he said, even more slowly than usual, "the children will have plenty to eat."

"How?" Her head swirled with confusion. "Did Charles give you more than the pearls, then?"

"You could say that," he said dryly and fell silent.

He gazed at her for a long moment without saying anything more. Without moving. Without even blinking.

Then determination lit his eyes and his jaw tensed with resolve. "It's time that I told you the truth," he said, moving closer. "I have plenty of money to fund the orphanage without resorting to robbery. You've no need to worry for the children, I promise. All right? Can you take my word for that?"

The truth, he'd said. "I don't understand."

He stepped yet closer. "When my father—the duke—died, I took the ships he'd used for smuggling and started importing with them instead. It's all legitimate. I have nine ships now and a London warehouse filled with goods from across the globe that are sold all over the country. I can well afford to support the children and anything else your heart desires."

As though she'd been physically hit, Kendra found it hard to draw breath. "Then why did you tell me you needed to rob in order to fund the orphanage?"

"I never said that, Kendra."

She thought back, frantically running through their conversations in her head. "But you didn't correct me when I assumed it, either. A lie of omission is a lie, nonetheless."

Everything she'd thought she'd gained seemed to be slipping away. She struggled to keep a hint of hysteria from her voice. "This makes no sense. Why is it, then, that you played the highwayman? Why keep doing it when you knew it worried me and my brothers had asked you to stop? For your own amusement, as you once said?"

"Not for my amusement." Taking both her hands, he drew her to stand before him, his gaze filled with silent apology. "I had reasons, good reasons, but...I'm sorry,
leannan
. There are things I cannot tell you."

"Why?"

"I just cannot. You'll have to trust me." His knuckles skimmed her cheek. "Once you promised you'd trust me. Has that changed?"

Her memory flashed on that day in the dungeon, and she blushed hot. But that had been in Scotland, where they'd spent every day, almost every minute, together. Where he hadn't kept secrets, so far as she could tell, and where they'd grown close and learned to be easy with each other.

Yet literally the moment they'd stepped foot in Amberley, everything had gone back to the way it had been before they left. She'd thought she'd gotten through to him—that his wall was nearly down—but that clearly wasn't the case. Not here. How could they have any kind of marriage when he insisted on holding back?

She wished they'd never come home.

"I'm trying to trust you," she told him. "But it's very hard."

"It's hard for me, too. You must believe that, lass. Just let me finish what I must do to put this all behind us."

And with one kiss, so heartfelt it left her reeling, he was out the door.

It hadn't quite been a lie. Charles
had
given him more than the pearls—he'd given him orders not to tell his own wife what he was doing.

Bloody obstinate man.