Echoes in Stone (20 page)

Jessa stroked the back of the man who had just reordered her world. Regret, remorse, shame—all that could wait until later. For now, there was only Dash. Dash, and passion.

25.

Women are raised to be ignorant of the facts of life…

MY GOD, WHAT have I done
?

Dash shifted, withdrawing his still half-hard cock from its heated sheath, careful not to wake the slender woman, dozing, warm and flushed, beneath him. The sofa was too narrow for them to lie side by side; he levered himself up to sit at her feet. He pushed back his sweat soaked hair, then leaned forward, his head in his hands. More than five years of celibacy, of control, lost in a single evening to a woman he had no business touching.

He glanced at Jessa. She lay curled on her side, the spill of gold hair draped over her like a blanket. Though still long, it was a few inches shorter than before. The fire in her bedroom had singed the bottom, necessitating a trim. Along the length of her exposed arm, a shiny pink line of new skin from shoulder to elbow marked the otherwise flawless skin. He turned to the flames burning low in the fireplace.

Someone, or something, was trying to harm Jessa. He couldn’t let that happen. Whatever the cost, he had to get her away from here. Away from the danger.

Away from him.

“Penny for your thoughts, Dash.” Dash looked up to find green eyes watching him in the flickering light. She moved to sit up, her arms wrapped over her chest, shielding herself from him.

“Jessa—”

“My clothes, please. I’m freezing.”

Heedless of his own nudity, Dash strode across the room to the puddle of green velvet on the floor, gathering up whatever he could reach. The scent of sex—of Jessa’s arousal and his own—permeated the fabrics. He inhaled. His cock stirred again, intoxicated by the aroma. He carried the bundle to the woman curled up on the burgundy cushions, thrusting them into her outstretched arms before casting about for his own clothes.

He pulled on his trousers, haphazardly doing up buttons. He turned in time to see Jessa struggling to rise from the sofa.

“Jessa! Sit down.” My God, how could he have been so careless with her? How could he have forgotten what she’d just gone through? “Lie back. Let me take care of you.”

Jessa started to protest, but a stern look silenced her. She sank back on the pillows.

He found his handkerchief among the pile of lacy undergarments, then wet it from the water pitcher. He handed her his shirt. “Here. Put this on. It’s easier than dealing with your dress.” He helped her into the soft cotton. “Now then. Lie back. Let me clean you up a bit.”

Jessa’s eyes grew wide. She gripped her knees together.

“Dash—Captain—really, there’s no need. I’m fine.”

“Jessa. Listen to me.” Dash stroked her legs until she relaxed, then coaxed her knees apart. He rubbed the damp handkerchief against the nest of golden curls, wiping away the proof of her virginity, mixed with his seed.

She flinched at the first touch of the cool cloth, but offered no further resistance.

“Jessa, we’re going to have to have a long talk, but it can wait until morning. After we’ve both had a chance to digest what happened tonight. But for now, there are a few things that can’t wait.” He clutched the square of damp fabric in his fist, then pulled Jessa up to sit next to him.

The contents of that handkerchief damned him. Damned them both. Their choices had been taken out of their hands.

“Jessa, sweetheart, I want you to look at me.”

Spots of color flared in her cheeks. She refused to raise her eyes. Her put his finger under her chin, lifting her face to his gaze.

“Jessa, what happened just now shouldn’t have. I know that. I also know it’s too late to undo any of it.” He blew out a breath, shaking his head. “Even if I’m damned for it, I wouldn’t undo it if I could. I regret the manner in which I—in which we—”

Damn, but the woman left him tongue-tied. He wanted to prowl, to pace around the room, to work off the tension that still rode him hard, but he remained seated, taking Jessa’s small hand in his. He sighed. He’d almost come to expect that frisson of energy every time he touched her. He wasn’t disappointed this time.

“Jessa, I don’t regret making love with you. I never will. If you expect me to apologize, you’ll wait a long time. I only regret it happened this way. You deserved smooth sheets. A soft bed; not to be taken like this, like—”

“Like two people who couldn’t keep their hands off one another?” Sparks ignited in her eyes. “What is it you really regret, Captain? That you allowed yourself, for once, to be human?” Jessa yanked her hand from his and stood. Fury radiated from her. “Or do you regret it was
me
you allowed to see that side of you?”

Dash leapt to his feet, his own anger flaring. He did the only thing he could. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

She struggled, trying to free herself, but he only held her tighter. He caught the back of her head, holding her still while he crushed her lips beneath his. He kissed her until she stopped fighting him and, with a sigh, returned his kiss. Only when she turned soft in his arms again, did he let her go.

“I believe some brandy is in order,” he said, “then we need to say a few more things. Go. Sit.” She looked rebellious again. “Please,” he said. “Don’t fight me on this. It only stirs passions. The passion will come out, one way or another. Right now, standing there with my shirt hanging to your knees, the gap in front playing peek-a-boo with those enticing breasts, I want nothing more than to lay you across this desk and take you all over again.”

Jessa’s eyes widened, brows lifted in inquiry. He’d awakened something in this innocent miss. He turned his back to her, filling two brandy snifters.

“Jessa. You must sit. Please. You’ll be sore in the morning as it is. Don’t tempt me further.”

When he turned back again, he found her settled into the corner of the sofa, her knees pulled up against her chest, her arms wrapped around them. His shirt, large on her small frame, made an adequate cover for her. If only his cock would stop thinking about the fact she wore nothing but her stockings and garters under his shirt.

He sat next to her, near enough, but not touching her. “Jessa. Tonight you gave me the most beautiful gift I’ve ever known. And no,” he said, forestalling her response, “not just your virginity, although that was magnificent. Humbling. No. You gave me your passion, your beauty. You gave me your trust.” He rubbed the scar traversing his face. “You gave me back something I thought lost forever. Acceptance.”

He took her hand, waiting until she looked at him. “But it’s also quite possible I’ve given you something as well.” The handkerchief, now stuffed in his pocket. Her blood, mingled with his seed. “Jessa, I got carried away. I failed to protect you as I should have. It’s quite possible I’ve given you my child.”

He didn’t have long to wait for her reaction. Her eyes widened, wrapping her arm across her belly, her mouth a perfect “O”.

“I don’t suppose your mother explained these things to you? No, of course not. Women are raised to be ignorant of the facts of life. Never mind.” Dash sighed.

Why hadn’t amoral, passionate Marguerite ever explained the simple facts of procreation to her daughter? Then again, she’d probably planned just such this scenario. But judging from Jessa’s stunned expression— No. If this had been Marguerite’s plan, Jessa knew nothing of it. He’d stake his life on it. In truth, he just had.

“Come sweet. We’ll talk more tomorrow, after you’ve had some rest. Let’s get you into your clothes, then into bed.”

He caught her small smile. What had he awakened in her? She was dealing well with this, so far. He’d see if she was still handling her changed circumstances as well in the morning. He helped her dress, then retrieved his shirt from her. It was warm from her skin. It smelled of her. Just that quickly, he was hard again.

He ignored it. He had to. He’d already put her in enough danger.

26.

…listening for Lily in the echo of the cold stones…

JESSA CURLED UP in the window seat in her bedroom, watching the sunrise. The early light filtered into the room, setting the gold wallpaper aglow
.
Soon the world would intrude again. She’d have to leave this sanctuary to face whatever the day brought.

Last night. She should be feeling guilty about what she’d done. Ashamed what she’d allowed Dash to do to her. To do
with
her. What happened last night had been—
Astonishing
.
Miraculous
. She giggled.
Delicious
. That it should be Dashiell Tremayne, of all people, who’d awakened those feelings.

Jessa shook her head in wonderment, lazily drawing a heart in the early morning condensation collected on the windowpane. Good heavens, what was she thinking? She rubbed it out with the sleeve of her nightdress. Hearts? For Dash Tremayne? The man’s whose heart was encased in a tomb of stone? No. The last thing on that man’s mind would be hearts and flowers and forever. She stood, stretching, aware of soreness in places never exercised before. The sensations brought her down to earth more than anything else could have.

What if I’m pregnant
?
I never wanted to be like you, Marguerite. Or like Lily. Carried away by passion. Yet, here I am, following in your wayward footsteps
.

She’d been born out of wedlock. She’d borne that shame all her life. Now it was possible she’d inflict the same fate on another child. She laid her hand on her belly.
I’ll never abandon you. Not the way Marguerite abandoned me
. If she did carry a new life, she’d find a way to care for it.

But would Dash? She dreaded the conversation he’d promised last night. She wouldn’t marry him just because she carried his child. Marguerite had done that. It had been a disaster. She’d never marry a man she couldn’t trust.

More than ever, she wished the room had a mirror. Had last night left its mark on her? Would everyone know?

The light tap at the door startled her. She rose to answer it. Since the fire, she always slept with her door locked, though it meant getting out of bed to admit the maid in the mornings. It was the young girl who’d finally been assigned to look after her.

“‘morning, Miss. Hope I didn’t wake you. ‘is lordship thought perhaps you’d like a bath this morning. I’ve got water on its way.”

Had he slept any more than she? He’d thought to send her a bath. What would the staff say to the unusual request? To the devil with it. She searched the maid’s face for signs she knew what Jessa had done. For sniggering or pointing. Nothing.

Jessa curled up on her bed with the pot of tea and plate of rolls the maid had brought, while she waited for the footmen to carry in the tub.

“Oh, Miss. I’m sorry. I just noticed I forgot to put the jam pot on the tray. Cook said ye were ‘specially fond of her Gillyflower apple butter.”

Jessa smiled at the nervous servant. “It’s fine. I’m sure there’ll be some with breakfast.” She’d share the taste with Dash, just as they’d shared it that day in the glade. Lip to lip. The taste on his tongue. She giggled, ignoring the maid’s puzzled glance, and horrified at herself at the same time. One night of passion and the man had turned her into a wanton.

She declined the maid’s assistance, sending her off, then stripped off her nightgown, stepping into the large tub. She sighed in contentment as the warmth of the water soothed away the unaccustomed ache in her thighs, and higher, in her most private places. The scent of the lavender soap hung in the air, blending with her special lemon rinse. When she’d finished washing, she lay back, daydreaming while the water cooled.

“What a lovely sight: a Nereid, drowsing in my home.”

Jessa jumped, shocked at the voice. Water splashed onto the tiled hearth. She grabbed her washing cloth, attempting to cover her breasts. “Captain! What on earth are you doing in here? What if one of the servants were to see you?” Jessa pulled her long wet hair forward over her shoulder, but doubted much was hidden from those silver eyes.

“I knocked,” Dash said, “but you were apparently far away. I’m not sorry you missed my knock, else I would have missed this lovely view.”

He looked devastating this morning, in fawn trousers, white shirt, and blue brocade vest. He hadn’t bothered with a jacket. She found the informality unnerving, although she had no idea why, considering she wasn’t even wearing so much as a chemise.

“I came to tell you I won’t be able to join you for breakfast. A problem on one of the tenant farms. But I’d like you to join me for dinner.” He smiled. “In the dining room, this time. I didn’t want to delay our talk, but this can’t wait.”

Jessa nodded, but found herself tongue-tied. What did one say to a man the morning after she’d made love to him? Love? Jess blinked. Of course not. It was as she’d said last night. Just two people giving comfort to one another. A moment of madness. She nodded at him, as regally as if she were fully dressed, sitting in a drawing room, instead of naked in a far too small tub of water.

“Of course, Captain,” she said “I understand the demands of an estate. I’ll look forward to joining you for dinner this evening.”

“It’s Dash, Jessa. You must call me Dash.”

“Of course. Dash.” She kept her chin up, meeting his gaze, ignoring the blush heating her cheeks.

He looked as if he wanted to say more, but instead drew a deep breath, keeping his distance. “Until this evening, then.” He gave her a slight bow, then spun on his heel, closing the door behind him.

Jessa sank beneath the water, grateful for the coolness soothing her heated cheeks. She’d gotten through the first awkward conversation without dying of embarrassment. Now she only had to get through the rest of the day without thinking about the coming evening. Irritation that he’d put her off and gratitude for the reprieve made for an uncomfortable mix.