Redeeming Jack (33 page)

Jack stopped in front of her and blocked her view. “How did that get here?”

Carys peered around his shoulder. A farm cart, complete with two horses, awaited them where their horses had been tied up.

Jack pushed Robert in the direction of the cart. “Perhaps the duke abandoned the cart and took our horses instead. At least we’ll arrive at Rhossili more quickly.” He manhandled Robert into the back of the cart and then helped Carys up. He gave her the reloaded pistol. “Don’t hesitate to shoot if he moves.”

Robert huddled in the far corner of the cart. He looked too defeated to try anything. Jack turned to lift Owen in and laid him gently in Carys’s lap. He shrugged out of his coat and laid it over his son’s small form. Owen stuck his thumb in his mouth and cuddled close to Carys.

Carys watched Jack study his son’s grimy face. A thousand words couldn’t have replicated the swell of love and emotion she saw in his eyes. At that moment she knew he would’ve laid down his life for Owen. She swallowed down an urge to cry as he reluctantly turned away.

The cart creaked and swayed along the narrow roadway. At first Carys watched Robert until he fell asleep. Then she watched Jack’s broad back until sleep overcame her too.

* * *

After settling Owen in the nursery under the watchful eye of Martha, Carys returned to her childhood bedroom. She smiled as she closed the door. Her room retained the essence of all her foolish girlish dreams. She remembered how naïve she’d been, how ready to fall in love with her brother’s best friend. How stupid to think that love would conquer all…

Jack half-rose from the chair by the fire. In the firelight, his face retained its shadows and secrets. Carys leaned back against the door and simply studied him.

“Your sister-in-law insisted I should sleep in here,” Jack murmured. “I didn’t realize she meant us to share the same bed.”

Carys undid the sash on her dressing gown. Jack had shaved and washed with Gareth’s soap but his unique scent flooded her senses. She slowly inhaled the subtle nuances of his warmth and allowed it to bring her body to life. “We are still husband and wife. As far as Gwyneth is concerned, that is sufficient.”

Jack swung around to face her, his movements jerky. “It’s simple enough to fix. I can go out the window and sleep in the stables. Gwyneth need never know.”

Still holding Jack’s gaze, Carys picked up a candlestick and set the flame from the fire. She set the candle beside the bed, where it cast a welcoming shadow on the embroidered quilt cover. Jack glanced at the bed and then away.

Carys allowed her dressing gown to drop to the floor. “I used to dream about you climbing up the ivy and coming into my bedroom. Did you know that?”

Jack shook his head. His hands slowly fisted at his sides.

Carys took a step closer to him. “I used to lie in bed and imagine how it would feel when you touched me in all those forbidden places.” She smoothed her finger over her bottom lip. “My body already knew what it wanted from you before I fully understood it.”

Jack licked his lips, his breathing harsh as if he could already taste her. “You thought of me while you touched yourself?”

Carys nodded. “Here,” she rubbed her thumb over her nipple, “And here.” She slid her fingers down to the junction of her thighs.

With a groan, Jack fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around her hips. He rested his cheek on her stomach, his breath hot against her skin. “Why are you telling me this now? I cannot stay. I have to leave in the morning.”

She looked down at the top of his head. “Because I need you to know that I haven’t ever stopped wanting you. Even when I tried to hate you, I couldn’t.”

Jack got to his feet and faced her. “What do you want from me?” He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them. With deliberate slowness, she leaned into him, felt the crispness of his borrowed shirt against the thin muslin of her nightgown.

“Nothing, Jack.” She raised her head and kissed his warm mouth.

He swore and then kissed her back, his lips opened to admit her questing tongue.

She pushed on his chest and he moved backwards to the bed. “I want nothing from you but this night.”

He tried to speak but she covered his mouth with her fingers and tugged his shirt free of his breeches. She had to stand on tiptoe to drag the shirt over his head. He didn’t help her, but she didn’t question his passivity. She wanted to give; she wanted to make him feel pleasure.

She hummed with feminine satisfaction as his stomach muscles contracted when she stroked him. Using both hands, she helped him out of his boots and slid his breeches down his legs. He half-sat on the bed, his face unreadable. Only the physical evidence of his thrusting cock proved to Carys that she was wanted back.

He caught her wrists and brought them behind her. “I can’t make you any promises. Don’t do something you might regret.”

She understood his desire to be honest, even as she tried to ignore the distress gathering in her chest. Why was he so reluctant to confess that he still cared for her? “How could I regret this? You saved my life. You saved Owen’s life.”

“Dammit, Carys, I destroy everything I love. How can you want me?” He pulled back again and caught her chin, his gaze steady on hers.

She pushed her hips into his, enjoying his hard, wet shaft pressed to the softness of her belly. “Your body wants me, even if your mind doesn’t.” She drew an unsteady breath. “If this is all you can accept from me, then yes, I want you. I want you inside me.”

He swallowed hard and slid his hands up to her shoulders. “Carys…”

Tears threatened behind her eyes. She wouldn’t acknowledge his refusal to accept her love. She
wouldn’t.
Instead she kissed him, her mouth crushed to his, her soul in the kiss. He kissed her back with a restrained passion that made her want to force him to his limits, to make him beg and cry out her name.

Panic threaded through her arousal, followed by a trembling rage. How would she survive if he left her again? How dare he come back, carelessly reawaken her senses and then abandon her? She struggled to breathe. If he chose not to return, she would make sure he never forgot her.

She broke off the kiss, slid down his aroused body and brought his cock into her mouth. He groaned as she drew on him. One hand fisted in her hair, the other braced against the bed. She drove him hard and fast until he pulled on her hair and dragged her lips away from him.

With easy strength, he picked her up and threw her on the bed. He rose over her, his eyes black with passion as he bent to suckle her breast. Still angry, still wanting more, Carys raked her nails over his scarred back and made him shudder. This would be no gentle mating. This would mark him, as he had marked her forever.

When he tried to get between her thighs, Carys rolled onto her side. He came after her, taut muscles gleaming in the candlelight. With all her strength she pushed him onto his back and straddled him. Jack lay still, his chest heaving, his ragged breathing loud in the sudden silence.

“Carys, love…it doesn’t have to be like this. Not in anger.”

She reared up over him, fighting tears. “Yes it does. It has to mean something. All the years we’ve wasted.”

He raised his arms above his head and grabbed the headboard. “Then take what you want.”

Her fingers curled into claws. She contemplated his bare chest. A sudden weariness doused her rage. “No.”

She clambered off him and headed for the door. He was right. It was too late to make him pay for leaving her, and sex wouldn’t keep him at her side—only love would. She searched aimlessly for her robe. Perhaps it would be better if she stayed with Owen in the nursery, after all.

“Don’t go,
anwylaf
. Please, not like this.” Jack came up behind her and pulled her into his arms. “You’re right. Let me make love to you. Let’s put the pain behind us. We’ve always been good together.”

Carys shook her head. “I don’t want to hurt you, Jack. I want you to…” her throat dried. She was
not
going to ask him to stay with her. He needed to make that decision himself. “I want you to go.”

* * *

Jack tightened his grip on Carys and studied her averted face. One minute spitting and hissing at him like an enraged lioness, the next all loving, and now giving him his marching orders. What the hell was he supposed to do? He’d tried to do what she wanted of him. He’d tried to give her the opportunity to make him suffer as he deserved. After making him ache with lust to his back teeth, was he now supposed to walk away like a gentleman?

Didn’t she understand that she’d be better off without him? That his mere presence brought pain and dishonor? Everyone he loved suffered. He didn’t want that for Owen. He didn’t want that for her.

Under her startled gaze, he grabbed his clothes from the floor. Without asking, he picked her up, dumped her on the bed and stormed across to the window. With a savage jerk, he opened the wooden sash. He took a deep gulp of the fresh sea air. What could he give her to make it right?

“Let’s start again, shall we? Let’s pretend I’ve climbed the ivy and there you are in your virgin bed, dreaming of me.”

Carys stared at him for what seemed like an hour. Still watching him, she slid under the covers and brought her knees up to her chin. Silence stretched between them, thin as a wire. Just as Jack was about to give up and climb down the ivy in all his naked glory, Carys spoke.

“Jack, what are you doing? My parents will kill you if they find you here.”

He closed the window and crossed the carpet in two strides. He knelt by the bed and took Carys’s hand. “I just wanted to see you.” He kissed her fingers. “I can’t seem to survive without you.”

She snatched her hand from his grasp as he got to his feet.

“Dammit, I’ve been dreaming about you in this bed all summer. He touched her luscious mouth with his fingertip. “I’ve dreamed of kissing you here.” He trailed his fingers down her throat and circled her nipple. “And here.” She sighed as he slid his hand lower to rest between her legs. “And especially here. I’d love to kiss you here.” He looked into her eyes. “Will you allow me to live out my dreams?”

When she nodded, his heart gave an odd leap as if he were, indeed, the young man who’d fallen in love with a speed that still surprised him. Carys pulled back the covers, inviting him in. He took her carefully in his arms, remembering the soft weight of her, the allure of her natural scent.

He kissed her forehead and then her ear. “Will you let me make love to you? Will you share yourself with me?”

She reached out and stroked his cheek. Her eyes were clear, her face beautiful in the soft candlelight. “Yes, Jack, I will.”

“JACK’S GONE?” Carys reread the note he’d left on the rectory kitchen table. With a curse, she crumpled it in her hand and threw it in the fire.

Martha looked up from her bread making and frowned. “There’s no need for that kind of talk, young lady. Your mother would be horrified.”

Carys sat down at the table with a thump. “You can thank your darling Jack if my language has deteriorated. He’s the one who taught me how to curse in the first place, and he is the one who makes me curse now.” She studied her clasped hands, the dull glint of her wedding ring. “He might have waited to say goodbye. I have no idea when he intends to return. Do you?” She shifted in her seat as her body remembered the feel of his hands and his mouth on her skin.

“No,
bach
,” Martha said . “I barely saw him. He gave me the note and asked me to look after you and Owen. He made no mention of returning.”

Carys shut her eyes as a painful realization swept through her. “He doesn’t intend to come back, does he? He’s decided to play the hero and remain in London without me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“But it would be typical of him, wouldn’t it?” She rubbed her hand across her face and groaned. “And I
told
him to go. I didn’t have the courage to tell him that I loved him and wanted him to stay. I was too afraid.”

“You had good reason to be wary. He did leave you once before.” Martha put down her spoon, her expression thoughtful. “Perhaps he needs time to think. His mother has just died.”

Carys shot to her feet. “He’s had plenty of time to think! How dare he walk out on me again?” She glared at Martha, who was trying not to smile.

“Perhaps you should go after him, Carys. I’ll keep Owen safe and sound here.”

“Perhaps I should. I’ll make him give me an explanation this time, rather than letting him walk away without a word.” Carys reached the kitchen door before her footsteps faltered and she turned to stare at Martha. “Do you think I’m doing the right thing?”

Martha made shushing motions with her floury hands. “Go, love. You’ll never know unless you try.”

* * *

Jack stared out of the large bow window that fronted onto the busy London square. Spring came earlier to the capital than it did to the wilds of the Gower. A plethora of sharp green buds already forced their way through the winter deadness of the bare branches. Jack let out his breath. Carys would’ve read his note by now. Did she realize that he’d made no promises to return?

Jack closed his eyes and pictured Owen. Even after a day, the image was as clear as a new-minted coin. If he could scrape up the money, he’d commission a miniature portrait of his son to remember him by. The shock of that first meeting and his instinctive desire to pull the boy into his arms and never let go had shaken Jack to the core. For the first time he could truly appreciate the strength Carys had shown in the pursuit of her child.

Jack rubbed at the misted glass. He’d delivered a surly Robert to the Duke of Diable Delamere’s associate, Steven Gardiner at the Foreign Office. Robert’s pleas hadn’t moved him. It would do his brother good to experience the power of the government’s wrath, let alone what their own father would do to him later. The reward he’d been promised for the capture of Mrs. Forester would keep Carys and Owen financially secure for years.

He reached into his pocket for his handkerchief and touched the folded note Steven Gardiner had passed to him earlier. To Jack’s complete astonishment, Captain Fury had been true to his promise and had left word of Marcus. The cryptic note said that Major Stortford was in England again. Jack had no idea where. All he could hope was that Marcus would find his way to London and his family. If he didn’t turn up soon, Jack intended to beg the Duke of Diable Delamere to search for him.