English, Elizabeth (28 page)

He
smiled a little, pleased with the image, thinking that surely he had one
somewhere among his chests. Tomorrow Maude would wear it on her hand. And one
quiet day, when they had been married for years and had nothing better to talk
about, he would tell her what it meant.

"Just
look," she said softly, drawing him back to the present. "Isn't it
lovely?"

The
valley below was touched with mist, all the familiar landmarks softened beyond
recognition. Above, the moon shone silver-bright among countless brilliant
stars. Even as Jemmy watched, one streaked to earth and he tightened his arms
around her.

"There,
now. Make a wish, they say, and it will come to pass for sure."

He
laughed as he spoke but she shut her eyes immediately, her brows drawn together
in a small frown of concentration.

"Now
whatever did you wish for so fiercely?" he asked, amused.

"No,
you first. What would you want if you could have anything at all?"

"Well..."
He rested his chin on her head and stared into the night. "Right now I'm
thinking if I could have anything... I'd take you and go back to sea.
This"—he nodded toward the open window—"it
is
lovely, I
suppose, but at times it closes in around me until I cannot catch my
breath."

He
stopped, knowing the futility of trying to describe the sea to someone who'd
never seen it, yet needing her to understand. "The smell of the sea is
like..." he began slowly, groping for the words, "Well, it's not
really like a scent at all. It's more like drinking the richest wine you can
imagine—and yet far better than any wine could ever be. Instead of making you
dull and sleepy it sweeps the cobwebs from your mind—and there's the world
before you, all fair and fresh and new."

He
closed his eyes and took a deep breath, remembering the taste of salt brine on
his lips, feeling the familiar ache of loss. "And the sound of it,"
he said, his eyes still closed. "The waves against the shore... It's
always different, and it's always the same as well, a song that gets into your
blood until you cannot live without it..."

"You'd
give all this up for the sea?"

He
opened his eyes with a sigh. His first instinct was to give her the pretty lie
she no doubt expected, to say that he was well content so long as she was with
him. But suddenly it was terribly important that she understand this one thing,
perhaps the most important thing about him.

"I've
thought about it sometimes—well, every day and every night, if you want to know
the truth. Oh, I wish I could show you how it is to stand on deck with the
journey just beginning and everything before you..."

"And
it doesn't matter where you're bound."

"No,
not really. It's the—the—"

"The
leaving."

"Aye,"
he said, a little startled at her perception. "That's it exactly."

"I
see. But—" she hesitated, then said, "But what is it you run
from?"

"It
isn't running," he said, though even as he spoke the words he knew he
lied. "It's—well, it's the adventure of it, the freedom."

"Aye,
well, freedom is a fine thing—or so I've heard. But when you cannot live
without it, the leaving, then it isn't really freedom, is it?"

With
a sudden change of mood she slanted him a smile. "But still, I would like
to try it once myself. Why don't we, Jemmy? We'll go right now, tonight—just
leave it all behind and start again."

"Would
you?" he asked, smiling down into her upturned face. "Would you come
with me if I asked?"

"Aye.
I would."

For
a moment the longing was so strong that Jemmy felt it almost as a physical
pain. "Well, it's a grand dream, isn't it?" he said at last.
"But not for us, I fear. I'm afraid the time has come to put that all
away. Though, in truth"—he grinned and lightly pinched the soft skin of
her hip—"it doesn't seem such a terrible fate right now. And what of you?
What was it you wished for?"

She
was silent for so long that he thought she wouldn't answer, but at last she
raised herself on tiptoe to whisper in his ear.

He
laughed, a deep, rich sound of startled pleasure and amusement. Oh, she was a
rare woman, more beautiful than any he had ever known. And yet it wasn't her
beauty that twisted the heart within his breast. It was her enchanting blend of
innocent desire; too shy to say the words aloud, she was still bold enough to
ask for what she wanted.

And
he wanted her as well, there was no use pretending that he didn't, not with her
body pressed so close against his own and his desire plain for both of them to
feel. And yet today he'd taken her maidenhead, a process that involved some
pain for her, as well as the keenest pleasure he had ever known.

"It
would be my honor to oblige," he said gently, setting his lips against her
brow. "But we should wait a day or two—"

She
wound her arms about his neck and looked into his eyes. "Oh, no,
please—let's not wait. I want you now, tonight."

"But
there will be tomorrow," he said, kissing her lightly. "And tomorrow.
And tomorrow..."

"But
tonight is... special. Different."

"Well,
you are different, surely!" he laughed. "What happened to my cool,
proud wife who wouldn't even speak to me?"

"That
wasn't me," she answered seriously. "It was— well, someone else.
This
is me—here, now, tonight."

"I'm
glad of that. For you—here, tonight"—he kissed her once again—"are
the woman I love."

He
stopped, stunned to hear his own voice saying the words he'd sworn he'd never
speak again, even as he recognized their truth. He'd never felt half of what he
did now for any woman, not even for Carmela. His love for her had been a boy's
love, and later it became a bitter thing, more pain than pleasure. While
Maude... well, she was like a flame, but with the hot passion there was warmth,
as well, a warmth that had revived a part of him long dead. And that was the
last thing he'd expected from this marriage.

She
was so changeable, such a mystery; he was astonished at the depth of passion
she'd revealed, given her behavior since they'd wed. In a single night she'd
slipped past every one of his defenses, and though his instinct was to go
slowly, cautiously, he feared it was too late already— especially when she looked
at him as she was doing now. A surge of protective tenderness swept over him,
shocking in its intensity. He wanted to hold her close and never let her go, to
shield her from whatever brought that look of sorrow to her eyes.

"And
I love you," she said as solemnly as a child. He started to speak, but she
laid one hand against his lips. "Can I show you how much?"

And
when she smiled he was lost, helpless to do more than follow as she took his
hand and led him back to bed.

***

Jemmy
had been right, Alyson thought as she lay down on the bed, wincing a little as
the woolen coverlet scratched the tender skin of her thighs. On any other night
she would have been delighted to simply lie beside him and drift off into
sleep. But tonight was not just any other night. It was the only night. And she
could not bear for it to end. Even if their union did not bring her the same
pleasure it would bring to him, she was determined to have that precious
closeness once again. What difference did a little pain make now, so long as
they could be together?

As
he slipped under the coverlet she pressed against him, expecting him to respond
as eagerly as he had done before. But instead of taking her into his arms, he
grasped her wrists, pinning her hands beside her head, and smiled down at her
with a wicked glint in his eyes. With a touch so light it seemed to burn, he
brushed his lips down the length of her arm, across her throat, and back again.

By
the time he had completed the journey once, every nerve in Alyson's body was
alive and shivering with anticipation. He nibbled each one of her fingers, then
kissed her palm, her wrist, and as his tongue lightly traced the soft skin of
her inner elbow, she forgot entirely that this was supposed to be for his
enjoyment and not her own. When his lips passed over hers, she arched against
him, trying to prolong the kiss. But he had other plans.

Hands
clasped about her wrists, he explored her inch by inch, an exquisite torment
that he drew out to its fullest. When she realized he sought only to give her
pleasure while taking none himself, she tried to capture him, to hold him, but
always he eluded her. At last she surrendered to him completely as with endless
patience he discovered every secret of her body. There was no reason to fear
him, nothing to hold back. She had been made for him and he for her and nothing
they did together could be anything but beautiful and right.

Her
fingers twined with his, gripped him hard enough to pierce the skin as he
brought her to the peak of ecstasy and kept her poised there, a sensation so
sharp and brilliant that it was nearly indistinguishable from pain. And at
last, when she could not bear another moment, he sent her straight over the
edge. And Alyson discovered she could fly.

Only
then did he take her in his arms and kiss her with a tenderness more precious
than anything that had gone before.

Every
muscle of her body was deliciously at ease. He drew her close against him and
she sighed, the warm, strong length of his body curled around her back, his
arms around her.

As
the moments passed, she heard his breathing deepen and felt his arms relax
their hold. And then, with a swiftness that took him completely unaware, she
turned and wound strong fingers about his wrists, pushing him onto his back.

She
regarded him with satisfaction as he gazed up at her with startled eyes.
"And what is this, my lord?" she said, turning her head so her hair
brushed across his body. "Don't tell you mean to go to sleep?"

"I
had thought of it," he admitted, his lips twitching in a smile.

"But
that would hardly be justice!"

He
drew a sharp breath as she leaned down and trailed the tip of her tongue around
his navel. Then she raised her head and smiled sweetly. "Such a
fascinating subject, justice. Is it not?"

"Indeed,"
Jemmy said. His breath grew ragged as she bent to him again. "I find it...
quite... interesting just now."

"I
am so pleased to hear you say that!" Alyson said. "For I plan quite a
lengthy lecture on the subject, and..." she nipped him softly. "...I
would hate to bore you."

He
grinned up at her. "That," he said with absolute conviction, "is
the one thing that you could never do."

***

Alyson
could not escape her awareness of the passage of time. Even as she lay in
Jemmy's arms, trembling with the aftermath of their joining, she could feel the
moments slipping past, each one gone irrevocably, never to return.

"Sorceress,"
he said, the words warm and soft against her ear. "I did not mean to do
that—"

"Are
you sorry?" she asked anxiously.

"Not
in the least," he assured her. "So long as you are not."

"Oh,
no! I am happy—so happy, Jemmy. Are you? Do I please you?"

He
smoothed the tumbled hair back from her brow. "Aye, you please me,
love," he whispered. "You please me very well."

***

Dawn
was an hour away, Alyson thought as the liquid
notes of the nightingale
pierced the silence of the night. An hour and then it would be done. She
tightened the arm flung across Jemmy's chest and buried her face against his
shoulder.

He
stirred and pulled her closer. "Are you awake?" he asked and she nodded,
so glad to hear his voice that she could have cried with relief.

Before
he could fall asleep again, she caught his hand and ran one finger across the
raised edge of the scar running halfway up his arm.

"How
did you get this?" she said. "I—I wondered when I first saw you, the
night of our—of the wedding—"

"Oh,
that." He yawned and settled her more comfortably against him. "It
happened a long time ago. I was... nine, I think. Yes, that was the year—a lot
of things happened. But this..." He smiled a little, looking into the
shadows of the ceiling. "I was walking in the wood and I came upon half a
dozen boys. They'd caught a fawn—I don't know how, it was very small, just a
few days old, and they had it tied to a tree and were throwing rocks at it. I
told them to stop but they weren't about to listen. They were tinker's boys,
older than I—proper young louts, too, probably hanged years since—and one had a
knife. We fought and—"

His
hand clenched, then he opened it again, holding it before his eyes. "I got
this. And this, as well." He guided Alyson's hand to a place just beside
his eyebrow and she felt the small raised scar. "I was getting the worst
of it, as you can imagine, but I did manage to get the knife long enough to
free the fawn. And then the tinkers decided that I could take its place. So
they tied me to the tree."

"What
happened then?" Alyson asked when he stopped.