Bride of the Shining Mountains (The St. Claire Men) (29 page)

“You swear that you will not kiss me again, or—or—”

“Or make love to you?” he readily supplied. “Why, only if you beg
me to.”

“And I can lie down fully clothed?”

A lazy Gallic shrug of his bare, broad shoulders. “I sleep
unclothed, yet you may do as you please, although considering the sheer volume
of your feminine trappings, it seems to me that it might be passing
uncomfortable.”

“Pantalets and camisole, then,” Reagan amended, recognizing the
truth in his observation.

He crooked one eyebrow. “A wise choice, indeed. Have we struck a
bargain, then?”

Reagan nodded. She could not seem to form the words. The thought
of lying with him in a proper bed, like a legally wedded couple, made her itch
to abandon her pantalets to his tender mercies and flee. Yet she had given her
word, and a Dawes never reneged on a bargain.

“My pantalets,” Reagan said as sternly as she could manage with
her heart beating out an erratic tattoo against her ribs.

“My lady,” the unprincipled rogue replied, retrieving the garment
from safekeeping, placing it in her outstretched hand. Quietly he waited,
watching her with heavy-lidded eyes.

“The least you could do is turn your back.”

“And let you escape me?” He snorted. “Besides, your modesty is
misplaced. This is not exactly the first time that I have seen you naked. Now
come, and I will help you with your gown.” He patted the mattress on which he
sat, smiling when she hesitated. “Surely you are not concerned that I will bite
you, Reagan, after all this time? Of course, I might,” he added, thoughtfully
rubbing the indentation beneath his full lower lip, “but only if you ask me
very nicely.”

“When Hades grows icicles.”

He laughed at her reply, and a shiver of gooseflesh ran up
Reagan’s spine. Her bodice was easily undone, yet the corset cover, corset, and
camisole remained, along with her voluminous skirts, petticoats, and wire
hoop, an uncomfortable contraption that caused skirts to bell at the hem, and
which had just recently come into fashion.

Disdaining his offer, Reagan turned her back, struggling with the
strings of the corset cover, her fingers trembling so violently that she
managed only to pull them into knots.

“Feeling flustered?” Jackson said, rising to her rescue. He’d come
noiselessly to his feet and now stood behind her, so close that Reagan imagined
she could feel the warmth radiating from his bare skin. “Here, let me help
you.”

He put his arms around her. Reagan braced herself for a full rear
assault. Yet, to her surprise, he gently brushed her hands aside and
efficiently untied the knots. “Reagan,
cher,
your hands are trembling.
Does the prospect of sharing my bed frighten you?”

“I am not afraid of you, nor any man,” she said defensively, then
softened as his warm, whiskey-scented breath caressed the hollow below one ear.
“I’m just a little nervous, is all. I’ve never done this sort of thing before.”

“It is as nature intended, for a woman to share a bed with a man...
and just as natural for you to be nervous. If it helps, you may consider this
practice for all of the nights to come.”

“The nights to come?” Reagan looked up at him, and for an instant
she was filled with so much hope that she was barely able to breathe.

“With your husband,
cherie.
Now raise your arms.” Disappointment threading through her,
Reagan obeyed his command, breathing a sigh of relief as he slipped the corset
and cover over her head, the laces loosened but miraculously still intact. Next
he turned his attention to her skirt, petticoats, and hoop, all of which
quickly became a soft puddle of fabric at Reagan’s feet. Task completed, he
braced his hands on his hips and looked her up and down, smiling when his gaze reached
her feet. “That leaves only your stockings. They were not part of our original
bargain. What say you, milady? Shall your lovely limbs be disputed ground?’ ’

His hands on her shoulders, he gently turned her, pushing her down
onto the edge of the bed. Then, taking a seat beside her, he drew her legs onto
his lap. “Such small and fragile bones you have. You were not made for the hard
work of raising a family. It is something that must be taken into
consideration.”

“You would manage my entire future, instead of looking to your
own. What about you? Don’t you want a wife and children of your own someday,
someone to look after you when you are old and decrepit? You must be all of
thirty now. You haven’t a great deal of time left to you.”

Jackson winced. “I’m twenty-nine years and five months, and I
believe I have a little time left before I must resign myself to age and
infirmity. Besides, it would be an unconscionable father who would burden an
innocent child with a legacy such as mine.” He took a firm grip on her left
foot, cradling her heel in one broad hand while he kneaded her toes with the
other. “As for a wife... she would need to be something of a challenge, else I
would grow quickly bored and set her aside. Why do you ask, Kaintuck? Have you
someone in mind?” Reagan bit her tongue to keep it still, permitting him to
continue. “No? Good, for in all truth, I would much rather be with you. Now lie
back against the pillows; this may take a while. You are very tense.”

He thoroughly massaged her left foot while the silence stretched
long between them. Reagan could see nothing wrong in doing as he suggested.
She’d already made a bargain with the devil. She might as well enjoy her slow
descent into sin. And she did enjoy it. Jackson had wondrous hands.

Their deft ministrations made her relax, against her better
judgment, and by the time he’d moved on to her right foot, her tension had
melted away, and she was sighing with contentment. She barely noticed that his
hands were inching their way toward the red satin garter with the small rosette
that held her stocking just above the knee.

Mesmerized, she watched him slide his fingers beneath the narrow
band and edge both garter and stocking slowly downward. When he reached her
shapely calf, he raised her knee, pressing a tender kiss at its sensitive bend.

Reagan could not suppress a smile. “Jackson Broussard! You
promised.”

“Your pardon for my trespass, mademoiselle,” he said low. “But it
is such an enchanting leg that I could not help myself. And we did agree that
it is disputed territory, as is its mate, open yet to seduction—I mean, discussion
.
If you truly object, however, I
shall be forced to stop. I did vow that I would not do anything you do not wish
me to do.”

He had already slid his fingers under the second garter, under the
top of her stocking, and was tracing tiny patterns on her cool skin with his
warm, strong fingers. “Well,” Reagan relented, strangely reluctant for him to
stop, “since it
is
disputed territory, and falls outside our original agreement, I
suppose there can be no harm—as long as you make a solemn vow that you will
take no other liberties.”

“A bargain is a bargain,” Jackson said, joining her on the bed,
gathering her against him, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

Reagan tensed. This was the crucial moment, the moment in which he
would press her back into the pillow and kiss her senseless, effectively
robbing her of her will. In anticipation, she held her breath.

Yet, surprisingly, it did not happen. He just rolled with her,
lying half upon his side and half upon his back, still partially clothed, and
not terribly threatening as he pulled the pins from her perfectly coiffed hair
and allowed it to fall between them.

Reagan slowly relaxed, feeling the delicious warmth that radiated
from his body seep into her own... and something else... some strange seed of
discontent that at that moment was stirring to life inside her. A twinge of
restlessness added to her discomfort; she snuggled closer, seating her cheek
against the center of his chest. His skin was as smooth and sleek as an otter
pelt, totally devoid of the coarse hair that made other men so unsightly, and
no doubt due, at least in part, to his Choctaw heritage.

Unconsciously, Reagan rubbed her cheek against the hard wall of
his chest. Her mouth grazed one small, erect pap, and she drew back, shocked by
her own actions. Then, slowly, urged on by the sudden desire to experiment, she
touched it again, brushing her lips across its pebbled surface, marveling at
the way it contracted and grew hard.

Growing bolder, she flicked it with the tip of her tongue,
thrilling at Jackson’s sharply indrawn breath; then, seized by a compulsion she
could not control, she took the small bud into her mouth and suckled gently.
There was an answering tug low in her belly, too strong, too insistent to
ignore.

Jackson made no sound, just cradled her closer against him.
Reagan, strangely, was not satisfied. She could not seem to get close enough.
Shifting her weight, she rested a knee between his thighs, straining upward to
nuzzle his jaw. “You may kiss me now, if you like,” she whispered.

He raised himself slightly, kissing the corner of her mouth, then,
much to her disappointment, fell lazily back into the pillows.

He did not speak a word, did not move a muscle; he just lay there,
waiting, his green eyes burning into hers.

Reagan swallowed hard, and felt her pride go down. “Jackson,
please. Won’t you kiss me?”

Reaching up, Jackson trailed a teasing finger down the curve of
her nose and across her lips. “Are you certain that’s what you want?”

“Yes. Terribly certain.”

It was all the encouragement he needed. He took Reagan’s face in
his hands, urging her down, bringing her lips to his, and finally enfolding her
in his rapt embrace. He kissed her with more tenderness than she could ever
have imagined any man possessed, and when it ended, he kissed her again. He
kissed her until Reagan’s breath was a soft sob of need in her throat, until
she collapsed atop him, wrapping her arms around him, burying her face in the
curve of his throat.

She wanted to weep for their situation.

She wanted to strike him.

If not for his obstinate heart, they could have been husband and
wife by now. Within the legal bounds of holy matrimony, she would have gladly
shared his bed; she would have lived with him—and for him—for all the years of
his life, and hers. She would have been so happy, so proud to bear his
children. Yet no part of that dream would ever be realized for her.

All they would ever be was lovers, and even that was fleeting.

After the ball it would all be over. Not that she imagined that
suitors would flock to his door on her account, but few men could resist the
lure of five thousand dollars.

They had but four days left to them. Her troubled mind seized upon
the thought. Four more days, and Jackson would walk out of her life—or she out
of his—most likely forever.

Reagan’s thoughts lent a quiet desperation to her actions. Gone
now was all thought of intrigue or ladylike artifice. In that moment, lying so
close to him, yet not nearly close enough, she knew what she was meant to do,
what she’d wanted to do all along.

“Jackson?” she said, stroking the plane of his lean, scarred cheek
with the fingers of one loving hand.

“Yes, my love?” he said quietly.

“Can we renegotiate our bargain?”

“That would depend. What sacrifice must I make to keep you here?”

“No sacrifice,” she said, her gaze locking with his. “I want to
stay....
What I
mean to say is, I want you.” She traced a finger along his jaw to the hollow of
his throat and down across his chest. At his waistband, she paused. “Could
you—” she said, and stopped, a heated blush creeping into her cheeks. “Would
you... make love to me please. Make me your own, even if it’s only for a little
while.”

“And your marriage bed?” he asked softly.

“A pox upon my marriage bed,” Reagan whispered. “I have yet to
clap eyes upon my soon-to-be husband, and already I despise him. It’s you I
want, you I
need.”

Jackson rose above her, smiling down into her upturned face as he
pressed her back into the soft feather mattress. “Reagan, my dear, sweet love,
I greatly feared that you would never ask.”

This time, when Jackson kissed Reagan, she did not resist, and all
thought of protest was long forgotten. Eagerly she pulled him down atop her,
wrapping one arm about his neck, the other around his lean middle, until he
reached back, caught her hand, and guided it down between them.