Moonlight Rebel (33 page)

She had seen the surprise and then the turmoil that had come into his eyes over the information Mrs. Washington had blurted out. Hurt feelings aside, she wanted, more than anything, to soothe him. To take his obvious anguish from him.

"Would you like company?"

They were alone. He had sent away the groom, intent on saddling his own horse. Wanting to keep his hands busy as his mind raced to untangle his thoughts.

Her presence took him by surprise. "No soldiers about for you to care for?"

Her expression changed. He isn't going to push me away this time, she thought. I can bear this. "None."

"Then I get you by default?"

She was wrong. She couldn't put up with this. Fury came into her eyes as her lips tightened. "You barbarian!" she shouted. "You think that because you won me so easily I would bed any other man who asked me?"

"Did he?" Jason had to know.

She shouted an oath at him in Polish, damning his soul to hell, but his question ripped through her heart and she hated him for it. "And do you think I would have if he had?" Frustrated, she slapped him. Now anger came into his eyes, but he didn't make a move toward her. "Do you think so little of me? Well then, I am done with you! I will not be held suspect by your petty mind, and I am sorry I cared enough about you to ... to ... Ah!" Another stream of words he couldn't begin to grasp flew at him, and then she turned and rushed away.

God's blood, but he wanted her, wanted her so that every inch of his being was in hell, just where she had probably wished him to be. The anguish he had glimpsed as she'd shouted at him for his lack of faith convinced him that he had been wrong. Stupid. She was his and would always be. His sin was wanting to hear her say it.

Krystyna was halfway to the house when he grabbed her arm and spun her around. The shriek of protest on her tongue never materialized, for his mouth covered hers in a hot, hungry kiss. She struggled, trying to pull away. But there was no escape, not from him, not from herself. His lips took her very life away. The recriminations that had separated them ceased to matter. She clung to him, feeling tears, feeling joy.

She was shaking when he drew his mouth away from hers. He had touched off her need for him, and it overwhelmed her, body and soul.

Jason's arms tightened around her as he held her close. The quickened beat of her heart was all the assurance he needed that he was wrong. "I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair. "Your life is your own, and I was cruel."

"Yes." She turned her face up to his, her lips still warm from his kiss. "You were." But she made no move to leave the shelter of his arms.

"Is your offer to accompany me still open?"

A shiver grew inside Krystyna. She knew she was saying yes to more than just a ride. "Yes."

"I'll have a horse ready for you in a moment." He took her hand, and they walked back into the stable.

Savannah dropped the curtain, shutting away her view of the courtyard. Annoyance colored her cheeks. Would she never be rid of that hateful woman?

Their ride took them to Jason's favorite spot in the meadow, as she had known it would. The last time they had been there had been with Nathan, and she had felt that Jason would want to recall his cousin's presence as he sorted out his priorities. Little was said between them as they rode. Krystyna felt it best to leave him to his thoughts until he was ready to speak.

The stream was only now thawing out. Here and there, pieces of ice floated by, melting, giving way to the coming spring. Jason helped her down from her horse, slipping her down the length of his body until her feet touched the ground. Even this faintest of touches roused the hunger inside of him.

Krystyna made no protest. There was no need to deny themselves any longer.

"Does it bother you?" she asked, breaking the silence.

Jason grinned as he kissed the top of her head. "Sometimes, like now."

She laughed. It felt good to be close to him again. She had missed him so. "No, I mean that Nathan has joined the army."

" 'Bother' is the wrong word." He took her hand and they walked along the bank. He watched the sun play on her hair, and he longed to bury his face in its softness. "It surprises me, though. Do you know that, as children, we couldn't even get Nathan to play soldier?" He smiled to himself. "He is the gentlest soul I know. I would never have thought that he would enlist."
 

Jason looked at the ice and watched a chunk catch the sun, shimmering, and then sink as a bird landed on it. The bird thrashed about in surprise before it flew off. Would it be like that for the Colonies? Would they try to float on a piece of ice called independence, only to have it sink beneath them? "I thought he'd wait it out, like me."

"He has found something to fight for."

"Maybe," Jason agreed. "Things are a lot worse up in the North than they are down here. I hear they're forcing people to quarter British soldiers in their homes and to give supplies to the British on demand. That would certainly get one angry."

"What would you feel if they came here?" Krystyna asked, peering at his face. "If they commandeered your property, your people, your crops, for their own use?"

His expression hardened a little as he thought of someone desecrating Smoke Tree. "I would feel what my father is feeling. I already do, but I've been like a lot of others. I just hoped that if we shut our eyes to it, things would eventually work themselves out."

"The war is getting closer each day, and it does not care that you have not joined a side." Though the warmth of his hand in hers gave her comfort, the subject chilled her. "It will not stop because you want no bloodshed. The outcome

of this war may be such as you do not choose for you and yours. You had better take a stand now and do all you can to secure your way of life."

The softly spoken words rang loudly in his head. "What makes you such an authority on wars?" Jason asked with a smile. To his knowledge, women didn't think of war, at least, not in the terms that Krystyna did.

She took no offense at his question. "I come from a place that has known one form of war or another for a long, long time. I do not belong to the peasant class, who know no relief no matter who wins. My fate depended upon who won, who lost, and what they were fighting for. I could not see being ignorant of what was going on, and my father, thank the sweet Lord, understood how I felt. Or perhaps he even made me feel that way." She shrugged carelessly. "I do not know what came first."

The conversation fascinated him. "And if you were in my place, what would you do?"

"If I were an American," she said slowly. "I would be on the side of the rebels. You have little hope on the other side. You have not lived through the revenge of a victorious ruler." Her expression grew grim as she remembered. "I have." She shook her head, recalling the curfews, the arrests in the middle of the night. The fear. "If you think you have little liberty now, wait until you have lost and must make restitution. Your King's vengeance will know no limits, and there will be nothing you can do. Except forge another rebellion with beaten leaders." She shivered as the wind grew sharper.

"Cold?" He didn't wait for her to nod, but placed an arm around her, drawing her closer. He felt the heat of her body even through the thick coat he wore. "If Nathan can leave his post, a post he took such pride in, to dedicate himself to a cause, then that's enough for me." He reflected on his actions. "I've been a coward."

"No, you have not."

He smiled at the loyal note in her voice. God, but he loved her. "Yes, I have. I'd hoped that I could live my life in peace without getting involved. It's too late now not to get involved." He raised his collar against the wind. The sky was turning gray. "I owe Nathan a return of loyalty. He always followed me, no matter what I did. It's time I followed him."

Suddenly, she didn't want him to leave. She couldn't bear it if something happened to him. "Will you go to war?"

"To be a soldier?" He shook his head. "No, there are different ways to get John Bull where he lives." He didn't elaborate any further.

Krystyna looked at him, wondering what he planned to do. But, if he wanted her to know, he would tell her. She had to be patient. She respected his decision, felt a kinship with him that hadn't been there before.

"You know, Princess." He placed a finger beneath her chin and raised it so her eyes met his. "You are a comfort to have around."

His approval warmed her the way nothing else could. She realized how much she had missed his smile, the light in his eyes. Basking in them was like coming out into the sunlight again after a year of darkness.

"It's too cold here," he told her, and she understood what he meant. "There's a cabin not far away, where we might be alone." He peered at her face. "Would you like that?"

He read the answer in her eyes before she said it. "Yes."

The cabin was cold and dusty, not that different than the one she lived in when she had first entered it. But she had walked into that one, not knowing what the next moment would hold for her. Here, she knew. For a few hours, there would be love, the like of which she had sampled before but would drink deeply of now. For there was no longer any hesitancy or shyness to stand in her way. No thoughts to bind her movements.

She wanted to be his. And this dreary little room had been transformed into the grandest bedroom because he was in it with her.

Jason could feel that something was different this time. When he turned from the fire he'd built for them, she had already shed her coat and was loosening the lacings of her dress. He reached for her in awe, but she took a step back.

"No, I want to do this for you."

He groaned as he waited, impatient to touch her. There are too many layers to women's clothing, he thought. It seemed to take an eternity. When she stood in only her chemise and pantaloons, her skin golden in the fire's light, he reached for her again, his needs thundering within him. "Two work faster."

She stepped back, allowing one strap to slip from her shoulders, then the other. "There is no hurry," she said softly.

"Oh, but there is, Princess, there is." The flat of his hands branded her as he slipped the chemise down the rest of the way. His mouth was dry as he looked at her. "If I don't touch you soon, I'll surely perish right here from longing."

It took effort to keep so still when the touch of his hands made her want to move, to brush against him in the age-old rhythm that hummed through her body whenever they were like this. "You turn a pretty phrase, Jason."

He wondered how he could form words when his mouth was so parched. "You are my only inspiration."

She laughed at what he'd said and at the look in his eyes. But beneath the teasing, she saw the need, the flame of desire; and it warmed her far more than the flame in her heart did.

The pantaloons whispered to the floor. She stood before him, the light caressing her body, tantalizing him. She raised her arms to him. "Then be inspired, Jason."

With fevered kisses, his lips branded her as his own. She arched against him, fluid in his arms, eager to feel him, eager to feel.

His clothing was shed, words were murmured, and always the glow continued as he filled her head with dreams and her body with a promise of ecstasy.

Though needs cried out, they took their pleasure slowly. Hidden away from everything, they explored one another, learning secrets, sharing them, delighting in the small paradise they had found.

He scarcely recognized her and could not begin to understand this change in her. If before there had been a question, now there was an answer. She was his completely. Not just her body but her soul, as she had once foretold. The gift made him humble even as it heightened his passion.

"Krystyna?" he murmured as he framed her face in his hands, his body above hers. "What has happened?"

"You," she answered, her hips cradling his, their movements growing in intensity as needs threatened to block out all thought. "You have happened." And she finally permitted herself to love him, damning whatever consequences might come.

They spent all afternoon making love and discovering one another.

Chapter Twenty Six

"So, you've come around, have you?" Morgan asked his son later that day when they were alone in the study.

Jason looked out the window. Krystyna was on the lawn, playing a game with Christopher. She seemed to be laughing, and he yearned to hear the sound. "In my own way, yes." He turned around and looked at his sire. Morgan poured a glass of wine and offered it to him. "You see, Father, I'm not like you." He accepted the glass. The stemware was old, a part of the dowry that had come to the house with his mother. "I can't clutch a cold philosophy to my breast. I'm too concerned with living each day—"

"And pressing a warm woman to your breast instead, eh?" Morgan chuckled. He took a sip of wine. Another luxury that will soon be gone, he mused, if the embargo isn't lifted soon. He noted the surprised look on his son's face. It wasn't often that he spoke so lightly with his offspring. "Ah, yes, I am not so taken with my 'cold philosophies' that I don't see how the women flock to you, young and old alike." He held up his hand, putting an end to Jason's protest before it began. "Not that it's your fault, lad." Morgan took obvious relish in this. "You're far better looking than I was at your age, and Lord knows, I never wanted for companionship —before your mother, God rest her soul," he lied, giving proper deference to the woman's memory.

Jason sampled his wine. "And after, too," he added. "I'm not blind either, Father."

Morgan eyed the decanter and decided that one was enough for now. He placed his glass on the silver tray. "You seemed to have changed, boy, since the Countess arrived." He looked at his second-born closely. The signs were all there. "Have you been bedding her, lad?"

"There is the lady's honor to consider, Father," Jason replied vaguely.

It was all the answer Morgan needed. He smiled. "Honor and you are strange bedfellows. But that is probably the only bedfellow you haven't had yet." The broad shoulders lifted and fell. "Well, no matter. It's not important that I hear it from your lips. She's of strong character, though that is odd as far as women go."