Yesterday's Roses (22 page)

A shiver of delight raced through Hallie at the feel of

Jake's firm lips against her flesh. The seductive tenderness in his gaze made her feel breathless and flushed all over. When she spoke, her voice sounded strangely husky. “I had to see you, Jake. I have some important news.”

“News?” He sighed with exaggerated disappointment as he eased himself into the chair opposite hers. “And here I was hoping that you had come with the express purpose of luring me under the mistletoe again.” He stretched his damaged leg stiffly in front of him, carefully suppressing a groan as a stabbing sensation knifed through the limb.

Hallie could feel her face burning with embarrassed pleasure at his provocative remark. No man had ever paid her such flattering attention before, and she had no idea how to respond. Especially to a man who was eyeing her with such blatant interest.

In a choked tone she managed to croak, “Do you always greet ladies in such an outrageous manner?”

“Only those who have experienced my mistletoe kiss.”

“Oh? And have there been many?”

“Just one,” he whispered, casting her a meaningful glance through his lashes.

Lord! What now?
Hallie wondered, her mind scrambling for a response. What could she say to a man who was so obviously a master at the art of flirtation? To her despair, she drew a blank. If the devil had appeared at that very moment, offering a dazzling retort in return for her soul, Hallie undoubtedly would have found herself condemned to eternal damnation.

Jake smiled wickedly, thoroughly charmed by her obvious confusion. “You know, Mission Lady, I have a particularly fine piece of mistletoe hanging in the family parlor.
Genuine
mistletoe, mind you. Want to try it out?”

“You're shameless, Mr. Parrish.”

“Only where you're concerned.” Though he kept his tone light, Jake wanted nothing more than to crush her body against his and plunder the heated velvet of her mouth with his tongue. Just the thought of Hallie Gardiner in his arms sent a slash of heat cutting through his loins.

Hallie stared back at him for several seconds, the smoldering heat in his gaze making her feel as boneless as a jellyfish she'd once seen floating in the surf. Heaven help her! She wanted to lie beneath the mistletoe and let Jake take all sorts of improper advantages of her body. She yearned to tangle her fingers in his thick hair as she tasted the sweetness of his kisses. A now familiar tightness twisted in her belly, and she squirmed uncomfortably with a need she didn't quite understand.

Firmly ignoring her wanton urges, Hallie drew her gaze away from his and fumbled with her reticule. Removing a crumpled scrap of paper, she extended it to Jake, saying in a slightly breathless voice, “Merry Christmas, Mr. Parrish.”

Jake read the hastily scribbled address and then crooked an eyebrow at her in question. “Are you suggesting that I invite one of Madame LaFlume's girls to join me beneath the mistletoe?”

“No-no. O-of course not!” she stammered, feeling a sudden stab of jealousy at the thought of Jake kissing one of Coralie's delectable tarts. “I just—” She stopped in mid-sentence, gaping at Jake incredulously. “And just how is it that you recognize Madame LaFlume's address?”

“Every man over the age of sixteen and under the age of one hundred knows about Madame LaFlume. And as you know from your
intimate examination
of my body, I'm most definitely a man.”

Hallie blushed hotly. He most certainly was.

“Not that Madame LaFlume's establishment holds any particular charms for me, mind you.”

“Really? I took you for a man with a—uh—lusty nature.”

“Only where a certain little Mission Lady is concerned.”

His gaze was soft as it captured hers, the color of his eyes reminding Hallie of new spring grass misted by the morning dew. She stared into his beautiful face in stunned disbelief. What possible interest, save friendship perhaps, could a magnificent man such as Jake Parrish have in a drab little wren like herself? With his looks and money, he could have any woman he wanted. He couldn't seriously want her? Could he?

She felt her breath catch in her throat as she ruthlessly discarded the romantic notion. Of course he didn't want her. She was a fool even to have imagined such a thing. The man was simply an unprincipled rake who enjoyed toying with her emotions.

As Jake leaned forward and clasped her trembling hands in his steady ones, she murmured, “Please don't tease me, Jake. I haven't any experience with such talk, and it makes me uncomfortable.”

“Who's teasing, Mission Lady?” he replied in a solemn tone. When she didn't respond, he studied her bowed head for a second, puzzled by her sudden coolness. Could it be true, then? Was she really so inexperienced with men that she found his remarks disconcerting?

No. Jake didn't buy that story for a second. How could a woman as lovely and vital as Hallie Gardiner have managed to reach the age of twenty-six without ever once experiencing the attentions of a suitor? The very idea was ludicrous.

He looked down at Hallie's hands cradled in his and absently stroked one of her calloused palms with his thumb. But if it weren't true, then what could have prompted her to imply such a thing?

He shivered as a sudden chill gripped his soul, and he could have sworn that he heard Serena's ghost whispering the awful truth in his ear: his Mission Lady had become so repulsed by his crippled leg and his confessed inability to sire children that she could no longer bear his touch. That very real possibility hurt him far more than he cared to admit. Cursing beneath his breath, Jake let Hallie's hands drop to her lap.

“I believe you had some news to impart, Dr. Gardiner?” he asked in a harsh voice.

Hallie glanced up at him, shocked by his brusque tone. His face had taken on a wooden expression, and his gaze, as it met hers, was unreadable. Troubled by his abrupt mood change, she bit her lower lip and looked away. “Of course.” And she proceeded to recount her encounter at Madame LaFlume's house, avoiding Jake's stony gaze as she spoke.

She can't even stand to look at me
, he thought bitterly, watching as Hallie's eyes landed everywhere except on his face. Yet could he really have been so wrong about her response to his kisses? Had he misinterpreted the warmth he saw flaring in her eyes every time she looked at him? All at once he felt an overwhelming need to grasp her face in his hands and force her to look into his eyes while he demanded that she confess her feelings for him. But was he really brave enough to hear the truth? Somehow that thought frightened him more than the prospect of facing a hundred stitches.

As Hallie finished her story, she glanced at Jake's face and waited for his response. His eyes narrowed as he seemed to consider her words.

Then he gave a snort of disbelief. “And you think that Serena was in some way involved with that perverted creature?”

“The bruises on Cissy's neck were identical to those on your wife—and there is the matter of the scarlet gloves,” she pointed out, not caring for the way he was looking at her. He was staring down his nose at her like she was a particularly witless court jester and he was some royal deity who was about to have her beheaded for telling a bad joke.

Hallie chewed her lower lip as she debated whether or not she should mention Serena's words the day Ariel was born. It might serve to convince him of her theory, or at the very least wipe that infuriatingly superior expression off his face.

But did she dare? Hallie studied his coldly arrogant face for a moment. Though Jake had always been gentle with his wife in her presence, she had no way of knowing what kind of private relationship the couple had shared. Perhaps—?

No!
She firmly pushed the picture of Jake as an abusive husband from her mind. Of course he hadn't mistreated Serena. Surely she would have seen evidence of such behavior had it been true. Wouldn't she?

“Well, Mission Lady? Is that the extent of your clue?” he prompted in a bored tone

She stared down at her lap and fidgeted restlessly with her reticule. “Not quite.”

“Then pray tell.”

“On the day Ariel was born, Serena mentioned a man who couldn't get—um—aroused unless she begged and cried. She claimed he hit her. She seemed terribly frightened of him.”

When her revelation was greeted by silence, Hallie stole a timid glance at Jake in an attempt to gauge his reaction. She could see the tension in every line of his face, and as their eyes met, the implacability of his expression unnerved her.

In a voice as sharp as the report from a pistol, he asked, “And you believe Serena was speaking of her lover?”

She nodded once.

Cocking his head to one side, Jake proceeded to study her in a way that made Hallie feel as though he were reading her thoughts. At his next utterance, she was sure of it.

“Tell me, Dr. Gardiner—and please be truthful—isn't there some niggling doubt eating at your brain that makes you wonder whether or not I'm that man? After all, by my own confession, you know that I was unable to perform my manly duty with Serena. And you've heard me curse, so you know I can be quite crude.”

Hallie shook her head and looked away. “I never thought—”

He cut her off before she could finish choking out her denial. “Of course you've thought, Mission Lady. And a great deal, I would imagine. Why else would you have been so reluctant to inform me of Serena's words?”

Jake watched as Hallie recoiled from his words. Damn her! Not only did she view him as an impotent cripple, she seemed to think him capable of unspeakable perversion as well. The thought sent a shaft of pain lancing through his heart and darkened his mood to a more ominous shade of black. So be it then. If she chose to think of him as a dissolute miscreant, then, by God, he'd oblige her by acting like one.

With lascivious thoroughness, Jake let his gaze sweep the length of Hallie's body. Boldly focusing his stare on the outline of her breasts, he said, “There are a thousand kinds of passion, Dr. Gardiner. Some of them very—well, unusual. Surely even you understand that?”

When she regarded him in silence, a frown creasing her forehead, he snorted his derision. “Of course not! What would a starchy old maid like you know about such things?”

The suddenness of Jake's verbal attack caught Hallie off guard. Staring back at him in shock, she could only sputter with indignation.

But he pointedly ignored her pique as he purred, “Shall I tell you all the different ways a man and a woman can seek their carnal pleasure?”

Quickly finding her tongue, she snapped back, “No, you shall not!” Snatching up her bonnet and reticule in hands trembling with anger, she began to rise. “And if you think I'm going to sit here and endure your rudeness, well, then you'd better have Dr. Barnes examine your head. Your brains have obviously been addled from taking one blow too many in the boxing ring. I can't imagine what else could have prompted you to behave like such a boor.”

As Hallie lifted her nose in the air in a contemptuous manner, she was stunned to feel Jake's hands clamp around her arms. With head-spinning speed she was hauled forward, and before she could let out even a squawk of protest, she found herself kneeling between his legs.

“Not interested in hearing what I have to say, Mission Lady?” he drawled, leaning forward to press his face close to hers. “Ah, well. Perhaps you would rather be shown instead.”

Angered as much by his condescending tone as by his suggestion, Hallie struggled to free herself. “You can save your filthy little lessons for Coralie's girls,” she hissed, trying to lunge out of his grasp. “For twenty dollars, I'm sure they would be more than happy to play the eager pupil.”

He tightened his grip and pulled her nearer. Twisting his lips into a caricature of a smile, he murmured, “True. But I prefer my students completely untrained. There's nothing more tedious than breaking a woman of undesirable habits … especially when those habits diminish my pleasure.”

“I'm going to diminish more than your pleasure if you don't let me loose this instant!” she retorted, clumsily butting her head against the unyielding surface of his belly.

To her frustration, he simply laughed. Bending close to her ear, he whispered, “Lesson number one …” Slowly he traced the delicate inner shell with his tongue, pausing now and again to tease her delicate lobe with his teeth.

A tremor ran down Hallie's spine as she felt the warmth of his breath tickling against her ear. The heat of his mouth stirred her senses, and as a rush of excitement spiraled through her body, she forced herself to become rigid in an attempt to combat the unwelcome sensations.

Resolutely jerking her head away from his seductively probing tongue, she snapped, “Damn you, Mr. Parrish! Save your carnal lessons for someone who's interested!” When she tried to move from his disturbing proximity, he clamped the steely shackles of his legs around her body and she found herself helplessly imprisoned.

Ignoring the burst of pain exploding through his thigh, Jake tightened his viselike grip until she grew still. “Not interested, little Mission Lady?” he purred, lightly blazing a trail of kisses from her ear to where her curls lay in a subdued coil at the base of her neck.

A shuddering sigh escaped through Hallie's gritted teeth.

He chuckled at her response. “Not interested?” he repeated. “Your response to my kisses just now told a far different tale.” To demonstrate, he bent down and playfully nipped at her neck. As a tremor ran through her body, he lightly admonished, “Even I know that the Bible says it's a sin to lie.”

“Not nearly as big a sin as lust, carnality, and depravity,” she growled, twisting her neck away from his marauding lips to fix him with a resentful glare.

“And not nearly as pleasurable either.” Lifting one hand from Hallie's arm, Jake threaded his fingers through her hair and one by one, drew the pins from the tight chignon.