Emerald (Jewel Trilogy, Book 2) (35 page)

But Caithren…sweet, unspoiled Caithren…

She wouldn't.

And he'd killed her brother.
Her brother.
How could he expect her to forgive him, when he couldn't even forgive himself?

He couldn't tell her the truth.

He
had
to tell her the truth.

"Jason?" Her hand jiggled his shoulder, spiking the pain in his head. Not that he didn't deserve it. Slowly he rolled over and gazed up at her.

"Was it the nightmare again?"

He nodded.

Her lovely eyes filled with compassion. "It will go away when you know who he was."

"I—"

He broke off. Words simply failed him. He needed to tell her…

But how?

Unaware of his anguish, she leaned closer. Her sweet breath felt heavenly, washing over him through parted lips. Clearly concerned, she leaned closer still. Her mouth was close, so close.

Resolve melted, and he closed the distance and met her lips with his, kissing her desperately. She flung herself against him. A low moan vibrated in her throat as she deepened the kiss, inviting him in to explore her velvet warmth.

Sweet Mary, she wanted him—he could feel her need pumping into him. His arms moved to enclose her, to crush her against him—

No, he couldn't do this. Not this time, not this way.

His hands fisted against her back. If he was going to accept the comfort of her body, the least he could do was slow down, show her the tenderness he'd failed to the first time. Keep his head. Protect her injured arm.

Protect his injured heart.

That heart pounding, he pulled back.

He needed to tell her.

He couldn't tell her.

Not telling her was a lie.

Though he knew he'd be damned to hell for the lie, not to mention for taking her—
again
, when he knew the truth—he couldn't seem to help himself. Just this once, before she discovered what he'd done—what kind of man he was—he would worship her. With his hands, his mouth, his body, he would make her his, make her happy, if only for tonight.

Cait knew the moment he gave in.

His hands relaxed and pulled her close, bringing her mouth to his again. His kiss wasn't angry or hesitant—instead it was sweetly cherishing. It seemed as though the whole of his attention was focused on that kiss, as if, for that moment, nothing else existed in his world.

The sheer intensity frightened her. She'd wanted the chance to see if the passion of that stormy night was repeatable, but now she was afraid to learn the answer.

If it were
yes
…how would she ever find it in herself to leave him?

Not that he would ask her to stay.

The truth brought a pang to her heart. But then he rolled and took her with him, and she ended up on her back with him gazing down at her, his eyes deep green in the hazy dawn light.

She wrapped her arms around him, and he kissed her again, his tongue sweeping her mouth. She found herself a melting mass of sensation, a puddle on the mattress for him to do with as he would. But still he only kissed her, a kiss that drugged, a kiss that precluded all thought.

When he came up for air, that frisson of fear returned. She wasn't having second thoughts—never that—but intentionally loving him in a bed in the morning was so different than impulsively on a rainswept night. A surrender of sorts, and a huge leap of trust, but she was willing to take it. She could only hope the cliff didn't prove to be too high.

Jason's hands went to the tie at her neck, attempting to loosen the night rail's high ruffle. He only succeeded in knotting the bow. "I thought we were going to burn this," he complained, the words tainted with frustration.

"Here, let me do it." Her heart pounded while her fingers worked at the tangle. "I thought you were an expert at removing female clothes."

"Not night rails. I don't believe I've ever removed a night rail. Off-putting garments, night rails. Mrs. Twentyman's in particular."

Impatient, he moved to help, but she pushed his hands away.

"Wait," she said with a choked giggle. "You'll only make it harder."

"Harder." In the gray shadows she saw his jaw tense. "It's absolutely harder," he said, sounding husky and breathless.

"Nay, it's easy now." Her own voice shook, betraying her anxiety. "It's nearly undone."

"That's not what I meant, Cait." Taking her hand, he moved it down to the bulge in his breeches.

"Oh." She seemed unable to breathe properly. "Oh, my. It
is
hard. How very interesting." Exploring, she forgot she'd managed to untie the night rail's ruffle until she heard his moan and felt his lips nibbling her throat. "Oh, Jase." Her fingers tightened, surrounding him.

"I think…" His muffled words tickled the hollow of her neck. "Not that it doesn't feel good, but I think…I think you'd best touch me elsewhere now." Lifting his head, he reached for her hand. "
Now.
"

His eyes looked rather frantic, so she reluctantly released him. "Interesting," she said again, arching in delight when his lips went back to her throat.

"Interesting?" The question vibrated right into her.

This sweet, melting seduction wasn't anything like last time, nor was it—or Jason—anything like the animals she'd observed around Leslie. "Well, now, I've seen a horse's, you know, but I've never felt—"

"A horse's?" On a choked laugh, Jason's head came up. "I've never been compared to a horse, but I thank you for the compliment. I think. Then you've seen horses, ah…?" His busy mouth went back to work, making a shiver run through her.

"Oh, aye. But our first time, well…it didn't work the same way, did it?" Her hands played restlessly in his hair. "Of course I knew it wouldn't, because Cam told me people do it face to face. I can see why. The kissing is nice."

"Mmm, nice." Settling his mouth on hers again, he kissed her long and deep, as though to prove it.

By the time he raised his head, her senses were spinning.

"Yes, nice," he repeated with a grin. One hand wandered down her body, leaving a fiery trail in its wake.

"H-have I told you that Cameron and I are breeding horses? Highland ponies." Breathless, she sucked in some air. "Lately we've been crossing them with Spanish stock, in an effort to—"

"Are you nervous, Cait?" He spread the night rail's neckline wider and kissed each of her sensitive breasts.

She was going to die. She was going to die right there. "Maybe." An understatement. "A wee bit." A bigger understatement.

His head came up again. "Has anyone ever told you that you babble when you're nervous?"

"Cameron." Through the night rail, his fingers lazily traced the line where her legs met, inciting a tingling current of desire. Trailing her hands down his back, she found the bottom edge of his untucked shirt and worked her way underneath it. The skin on his back felt hot. "But I don't think I've ever been quite this, um…nervous with Cam."

"I'm glad to hear it," he said dryly. "Let's get rid of this, shall we?"

He sat and tugged on the hem of the night rail, but the yards and yards of it only got hopelessly tangled. With a shaky giggle, she rose to her knees to help him struggle her out of it.

"You're supposed to take this seriously," he said, pulling handfuls of the fabric up to blind her.

"Am I?" She gasped when cold air hit her middle, her face completely swathed in white wool. "This entire act is rather absurd, if you think on it."

"Then don't think."

As though she could. Her breasts were bared now, and she still couldn't see a thing.

But she heard his sharp intake of breath. "Sweet Jesus. You're perfect."

She shoved the night rail off her head, blinking in the brightening morning light. The hunger in his eyes made her blush. "Am I not scrawny?" she asked, tugging the quilt up to cover her body. "You keep telling me I don't eat enough."

"You're perfect," he repeated, sweeping the quilt right off the bed.

Speechless, she could only gasp again.

"I was wrong," he added with a wicked grin. "Besides, I so enjoy your leftovers." While she was still tongue-tied, his hands reached out and fitted themselves to her breasts, which she'd always thought were too small. "Perfect," he breathed, closing his eyes momentarily.

She fell back to the pillows, weak with shock. Or something. "This isn't fair."

"No?" His eyes opened and ravenously roamed her body.

She blushed and folded her arms across her breasts. "You should be in the scud, too."

"In due time," he said, moving closer.

"Now."

"Has anyone ever told you you're demanding?"

"Aye." Her hands went to loosen the laces on his shirt. "I'm demanding, and I blether when I'm nervous, and I'm impulsive."

"And you talk too much."

When he kissed her, her fingers faltered. "But I'm perfect," she reminded him.

He nodded solemnly. "Yes, you're perfect."

With a single lithe motion, he stood and pulled the shirt over his head, then made short work of divesting himself of his breeches. Cait swallowed hard, thinking he was perfect, too. Like the drawing she'd seen of Michelangelo's
David
in one of Adam's schoolbooks. She'd spent hours studying that picture, but she never thought she'd see it come to life.

When he came down on top of her, skin to skin, she sighed loudly in contentment.

Supporting himself on his elbows, he hovered over her. "Now, will you just hush up?"

"Oh, aye," she breathed as his mouth closed over hers. Slow and deep, the kiss left her dizzy when he broke contact. His dark head bent, and his clever mouth moved over a breast, wet and warm and tingling.

"Oh, Jase. I never knew…do all men do this?"

She felt his chuckle. "I cannot speak for all men."

"This is t-taking much longer than horses." She sucked in a breath. "Generally, the male horse bites the female on the neck—"

"Like this?" His mouth trailed up and demonstrated.

She arched in shock and pleasure. "Aye. But…go back to the other."

A low laugh filled the dim room as he lightly bit a nipple. "You like this, do you?"

"Aye, very much." Excitement surged through her when he started suckling away the bite. "But horses accomplish this much faster, aye? It's all over in a matter of minutes, like the first time we—"

When his mouth left her, she wanted to smack herself for blethering

"We aren't horses," he said low. "And this isn't the first time." A hand skimmed down her body, tracing a sensuous path. "It's another time, another place."

Aye, it was different than last time, but no less glorious. Just different.

"I see what you mean." She squirmed and bit her lip to keep from crying out her pleasure. "I-I've never been in this place before."

"Did I not ask you to be quiet?" he murmured. His mouth started following his hand, trailing little wet kisses down her body. When his tongue swept into her navel, a stab of hot desire arced from there to deep inside. She clenched her teeth, her hands fisting in his hair.

She wouldn't say anything more, not even if—

"Oh, Jase!" His lips were tracing her hipbones and down to her thighs. Warm, oh so warm, and teasingly tender, making shivers ripple through her. "I think no horse has ever done this."

Apparently he was finished dignifying her inane comments with responses. His fingers and mouth roamed her body for long, intimate minutes. Her pulse raced faster and faster, until she feared that she might scream. As he coaxed her legs apart, her fingers clutched at his hair, his shoulders, the sheets.

He cupped her with a hand. And stilled.

Matched by her own, his breath sounded harsh in the suddenly quiet room.

She felt an incredible urgency beneath his fingers.

She waited, and waited, and waited…and when at last his hand started moving, she arched off the bed. Slowly he stroked, ever so slowly and for ever so long. Something was building inside her. Just when she thought she might explode from the pleasure, he slipped a finger inside her body.

"By. All. The. Saints." Astonished, she felt herself pulsing around it. "I—I think," she whispered, "I…think no horse has ever done this, either."

His finger retreated, a slide of exquisite sensation, then plunged deep. Again. Another finger joined the first, and the pleasure built unbearably. She called out his name and clutched at his head and shoulders, the only parts of him she could reach.

"Now," she whispered, begging him to move up and over her, craving his mouth on hers, wanting him inside her. "Please, now."

He answered with but a tiny shake of his head before he drifted down—not up, but down. And his mouth closed over her, impossibly hot, impossibly soft, impossibly thrilling.

"Oh, Jase!" She clutched at air, unable to reach him anywhere. She clutched at the sheets. Her eyes drifted closed as she clutched her emerald and hung on tight, trembling uncontrollably, feeling she might explode.

"I'm—quite—certain," she said in short, hard pants, "a horse—has never—done
this
." She meant also to ask what made him think of such a thing, but then she did explode, into a million wee pieces.

After what seemed an eternity, somehow the pieces all came back together. She found herself shuddering, gasping for breath.

His mouth curved in an erotic, heart-wrenching smile, he crawled up to meet her and put two fingers to her lips. "Hush now, sweet Cait."

And she did, not only because his mouth claimed hers. She didn't think she could force another word out even if she wanted to. She had no breath left in her lungs.

Tenderly his hands stroked her, calming her…

Except it wasn't calming—the excitement was building all over again.

"Not again," she whispered.

"I said hush."

Over the next space of time, there wasn't a spot on her body he didn't kiss or touch or tease into awareness.

His spicy male scent was intoxicating. Her hands wandered all over him, learning the contours of his muscles beneath his warm skin. His low groans echoed her own mews of pleasure, but his movements remained controlled, agonizingly slow, skillfully bringing her to a fever pitch of passion.