The Claiming (27 page)

In that moment he saw red as his fear for her gave way to pure, rolling rage so potent that he felt almost physically ill as he fought the insane urge to beat her senseless for scaring him so badly.

It was at about that time that Jana and Alain reached a mutual conclusion. The rope—or sheets Alain realized with a fresh, if inexplicable, flare of fury—fell far short of the ground, about eight feet short to be exact.

Jana reached the end of her rope and stared down at the ground in dismay as the rope swung lazily, twisting slightly from her movements. It still looked awfully far from the ground and she felt absolutely no desire to release her death-lock on her lifeline. Unfortunately, she had neither the strength to climb back up nor even to hold on much longer. As she felt her grip slipping, she closed her eyes, offering up a silent prayer that she wouldn't break anything when she struck the ground.

"What in the bloody hell are you doing?" asked a voice of such deadly coldness that a totally different fear stabbed her. The blood in her veins seemed to turn to ice water. Her eyes snapped open. Her heart dropped to her toes as she gazed down into deadly golden feline eyes.

Never had she seen such naked, blazing fury, and she decided with a shudder that she would die happy if she never did again. His eyes seemed to pierce right through her, blazing with golden fire through narrowed slits.

She smiled weakly as inspiration struck her. "A wager?" she suggested hopefully, wondering idly if her arms had slipped from their sockets. She wanted to ask him where he'd come from but somehow it didn't seem quite the right time for it.

Alain placed his hands on his hips and regarded her in silence for several moments. "With whom?" he asked, arching one dark brow in sardonic inquiry.

"Whom?" Jana repeated blankly, having forgotten her lie almost the moment it left her mouth.

"Really, Jana," Alain murmured icily. "I'm not at all fond of these little games of yours. The wager," he prompted coldly.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, enlightened. "Blane, of course."

"Of course," Alain murmured dryly. "I believe I shall have to beat some sense into him when next I see him," he added musingly.

"Oh! You can't do that!" Jana exclaimed in dismay. "You wouldn't!" she added without conviction. A dark eyebrow arched sardonically and she stared down at him in dismay, wishing she hadn't been so stupid as to implicate Blane. Now she would have to confess her lie. In the next moment she realized that Blane was safely out of reach at present and she decided cravenly that since Blane wasn't likely to feel the weight of his brother's hand anytime in the near future, there wasn't any real reason to confess immediately. "Do you think that you could help me down?" she asked instead.

"What? And spoil your wager?" Alain asked sarcastically. "I wouldn't dream of it. It can't be more than six feet to the ground and you're so close to success!" he added nastily.

Jana bit her lip and wished a few vile curses on Alain's head. She wasn't about to ask again, however, so she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and released her grip.

He caught her and allowed her to slide gently to the ground, much to her surprise. She gazed up at him doubtfully, realizing quite suddenly that although he didn't seem quite as murderous as he had before, there lingered a definite dangerous glitter in his eyes. She moistened her lips and tried for a bright smile. "I think I'll just go to bed now," she whispered breathlessly and moved to pass him.

He caught her arm and whirled her about to face him once more. "Just a moment," he snapped tersely. "Those clothes," he ground out as his eyes raked her contemptuously. "I suppose those, too, are part of this mythical wager?"

"Mythical?" Jana repeated warily. "I ... uh ... yes … yes, they were. At least, I could see it would make it easier, you see."

"Enough!" Alain rapped out angrily so that Jana shook all over and felt the blood drain from her dace in a rush. "I have had enough of your lies and machinations! And these...." he floundered for words, "these clothes. If I ever see you in such as this again, I can practically guarantee you will regret it.”

Jerking her off her feet, he slung her over his shoulder before she even realized his intention.

Chapter Fourteen

Her stomach struck his hard shoulder with a force that knocked the breath out of her. It stunned her so that he'd entered the house and strode purposefully toward the stairs before she had recovered sufficiently to worry about what he had in mind.

She pushed against his back, trying to right herself. She’d long since lost her hat, and her hair pins, loosened by the jarring impact of Alain’s shoulder, fell out. Her hair tumbled about her face and trailed along the floor in Alain's wake, blinding her ... which was probably just as well since it kept her from seeing Lill's surprised face when they reached the upstairs landing.

Blood pounded in her head till she thought it would explode from the pressure. "Alain! Put me down!"

In the next moment he tossed her onto the bed. She glared up at him and grabbed the first thing that came to hand. Unfortunately it was only a pillow. As soon as she smacked him in the face with it, she knew she'd made a mistake.

For several moments all Jana could do was gape at him in dismay while the blood seemed to freeze in her veins. In a moment she recovered sufficiently to allow the primal instinct for survival to filter through to her numbed mind.

Scrambling to her knees, she rolled off on the opposite side of the bed. He dove for her. She dashed around the end of the bed and made for the door. Alain reached it first. Jana skittered to a halt and changed directions as he reached for her, leaving him holding only a handful of shirt.

Unfortunately, it was a very old shirt, the fabric weakened by time and rot. As she darted away, she felt a sharp tug followed by the sound of rending cloth and she left the shreds of her shirt in Alain's hand.

She didn't stop, however, until she'd put the bed between them once more. When she whirled to face him, she discovered he stood where she'd left him, staring down at the fabric in his hands, stunned. He raised his head then and for a moment their gazes locked before his traveled downwards to her heaving chest. She looked down, as well, discovering she was bare to the waist.

He tossed the fabric aside and advanced on her purposefully. “Now, the breeches.”

Jana gaped at him. Instead of making any attempt to remove them, however, she focused on the dressing room door, trying to judged the distance. If she waited till he rounded the end of the bed, she decided, she might well have a chance of getting away yet. Where she would go if successful, she wasn't at present concerned with.

Alain noted the flicker of her eyes from him to the door and tensed as he moved slowly around the bed. The moment she made her move, he sprang, catching her in the middle of the bed and pushing her flat on her back. Before she could even recover from her surprise, he had jerked her breeches halfway down her hips.

It would've been difficult for Jana to explain whether fear or fury was uppermost in her struggles. Regardless, each contributed. She’d gone beyond thought, reacting only on instinct.

She fought so ferociously that Alain nearly lost his grip on her twice before he managed to jerk the breeches off of her. He was forced to straddle her then, purely out of self-defense, to keep her from kicking him, grasping her arms and pinning them above her head. Mildly amazed that such a tiny woman could pack such a wallop, he wondered then with totally unexpected, though grim, humor how he was now going to get loose from her.

He glared down at her, breathing somewhat raggedly after their struggles. He was angry still, but, having succeeded in his aim (which contrary to her fears was merely to remove her offending garments), it was entirely possible he would've released her as soon as she'd quieted sufficiently that he was certain she wouldn't try to punch him in the nose again. She had almost succeeded the first time. His jaw still smarted where she'd struck him a glancing blow.

She glared up at him, for the first time without a touch of fear. "Don’t touch me," she said evenly.

Alain paled, feeling as if he'd just been punched in the stomach. With the sharp pain came a certain numbness, and then his anger returned. "You’re mistaken if you think I’ve any desire to.”

He rolled off the bed and stood up.

“You took my clothes!” she snapped angrily.

“Yours?”

She couldn’t prevent a blush. “I was wearing them,” she said tightly.

His eyes narrowed. “And if you’d succeeded in leaving the plantation dressed in that manner, and any man had caught you, the chances are great that you would have had far more to contend with than having your clothes removed. Decent women of Orleans do not dress in this manner. And any woman who does not fall under that category is fair game for any man looking for a woman, whether she’s willing to share herself or not.”

She looked away. “What does that matter now? I was not willing before. I had no choice.”

“Liar,” Alain said tightly.

Jana looked at him, startled. As she watched, he began to remove his clothes with angrily deliberation. "What are you doing?"

He tossed his trousers aside and paused, giving her a look filled with intent.

“Alain?” she said warily, sitting bolt upright.

He caught her as she scrambled for the edge of the bed, straddling her once more, capturing both her wrists in one hand easily and pinning them to the bed above her head. She arched her back, trying to dislodge him, but froze at the look that came into his eyes.

“This is not making love," she said quietly, wanting him, but not as the angry stranger he was now.

A muscle tightened and leapt in his jaw, but she saw his anger had vanished at her words. He studied her for a long moment, then bent his head. His lips touched hers, with such infinite tenderness that she was stunned into acquiescence.

"Let me make love to you," came his anguished whisper against her lips, the soft coaxing words barely more than a sigh, incomprehensible through the whirling, dizzying sensations that had gripped her almost from the moment his lips had first touched hers.

He loved her then, with an aching tenderness that built the fire slowly, from budding warm to a raging inferno. He brought her body to thrumming life as he had before, drugging her senses with his kisses, his touch. And when he joined their bodies and moved within her, she learned what it was to shatter with pleasure, to feel body and soul unite in blinding splendor.

***

Jana stirred and shifted towards the warmth. Frowning slightly when she discovered it was still out of reach, she shifted once more, searching sleepily for that as yet undefined source of comfort. She was completely alone in the large bed and she sat up with a jerk, suddenly wide awake.

Alain was gone. Sighing, she rose and began her morning ritual.

She skidded to a halt when she reached the breakfast parlor, surprised to discover that Alain was seated at the table. Blane looked up as she entered, giving her a questioning look. Alain, his nose buried in a newspaper, gave no indication that he was even aware of her arrival.

After a moment, she moved to the buffet and served herself, but she discovered she had little appetite. She wasn’t certain what she had expected, but she rather thought that she had hoped Alain would not still behave so coldly toward her, that he’d been transformed once more by the things they’d shared the night before into the man who’d once gaze at her with warmth and tenderness.

Alain was almost as much an enigma to her as she was to herself. She knew she had no right even to want things to be the same between them as before. Too much had passed between them since, and in any case, she knew she simply could not stay.

But she missed the way it had been.

She wished, desperately, that she’d never come to Orleans at all.

She wished she had been, as Blane had once said, perfect for Alain.

Focusing her attention on her plate finally, she tried to consume at least a part of the food she’d heaped upon it.

She’d been stirring the remains for perhaps ten minutes when Alain rose abruptly, set his cup down and departed.

Disappointed that he’d said nothing at all to her, she watched him depart, feeling as she so often did that something was terribly wrong and would never be right again.

“I hope you’re satisfied,” Blane said abruptly.

Jana looked at him in surprise. “What?”

Blane’s lips tightened. “I don’t understand you.”

She looked down at her plate. “I don’t understand me either.”

“I can scarcely sleep at night for kicking myself. This is my fault and I know it, but…. Damn it! You two have made the damnedest mess I’ve ever seen in my life! It seems to me that at least one of you ought to be able to keep their wits about them.”

Jana felt a knot of misery forming in her chest. It was kind of him to say that ‘they’ had made a mess of things, but she knew very well it was her that had bungled it all. It was just as Marty had said, she never got anything right. Even Alain had asked if trouble followed her around. She’d been angry about it at the time, but he’d been right. “I did not intend to make him unhappy. It’s just … I am not very skilled with people. I always seem to say, or do, the wrong thing.”

“Unhappy? You’ve got him running around like a madman! Poor fool doesn’t know which way is up anymore. I could count the number of times I’ve seen Alain lose his temper on one hand … before you came. He’s always been a stickler for self-control. Now, anytime anybody even looks at him sideways he’s in a thundering rage.”

It was almost a relief to know that she was not the only person who seemed to regularly anger Alain. She’d begun to think it was just her.

She pushed her plate aside and covered her face with her hands. “I would undo it all if I could. I did not mean for any of this to happen!”

Blane sighed. “Don’t you care anything at all about him, Jana? Even a little?”

Jana looked up at him.