Her Defiant Heart (19 page)

"Done to you?" he asked. "Nothing. There are dozens of glass crystals embedded in your feet. And no, I didn't put them there. Apparently you walked all over the glass that shattered in your room before we found you."

Jenny knew she was looking at him as if he were the one who had lost his mind. "Glass? What glass? What are you talking about?"

Christian frowned. "You really don't remember, do you?"

"I told you. Bits." She pressed her lips together as she tried to put the events right in her own mind. "I remember being very cold and wet and... frightened. A dream?"

"An understatement. You were frozen, dripping, and terrorized. It was one hell of a nightmare. What was it about?"

Jenny shook her head. It had been, as he said, one hell of a nightmare, but she was not going to share it with him. "I'd like to go back to my own room now," she said quietly.

"Haven't you heard anything I've said? There are splinters of glass in your feet. That's why it hurts to walk. The storm shattered a window in your room."

"I remember the storm. I couldn't sleep."

"Yes, well, you had a restless evening even after Mrs. B. and I brought you in here." Christian refused to say any more. She could make what she liked of the fact that he had been in bed with her—was still in bed with her. "Lie back down and get a little more sleep. You can't do anything until Dr. Turner takes care of your feet." Christian swung his legs out of bed. "I'll ring for Mrs. B. and have her send someone for Scott."

"No! My feet don't require Dr. Turner's skills. I'll take care of them myself. Do you have a pair of tweezers?"

"You're not serious."

"I am. Please, Mr. Marshall. I'm sick to death of troubling people." When he merely rolled his eyes, Jenny sniffed. "Very well. I'll find them myself. I seem to remember a pair in the dressing room." Jenny slid to the opposite side of the bed, not even aware that Christian made a grab for her. Gripping the footboard of the bed, she tiptoed around the edge of the bed. Confident of her own cleverness and self-reliance, she smiled smugly. His answering smile was scornful and it brought Jenny up short. She wavered on the balls of her feet between the bed and the rocking chair. She flung her arms wide, seeking purchase on the furniture and balance for herself.

"I despise martyrs," he said, watching her weave. "Now put yourself back in that bed or I swear I'll throw you there."

Jenny was too startled to move in any direction. Her fingers gripped the back of the rocker, and she steadied herself. She winced slightly as the soles of her feet touched the floor. "I will not be bullied by you, Mr. Marshall," she said with what she thought was great dignity. "You might be my employer, but—"

"That does it," he said, cutting her off. "You have just reminded me that I don't need your permission. You
work
for me."

Jenny had time enough to turn but no opportunity to run. "Let me go!" she said as Christian's arm snaked about her waist. His grip was so powerfully hard that she was winded for a moment. Her next protest died in her throat.

Christian picked Jenny up easily. Although she flailed at him, he managed to dodge her blows. "I've had it with your martyrdom, Jenny Holland." He pitched her on the bed. "Now stay there. I'll get the tweezers and take the splinters out myself. You cannot imagine how pleasurable I'll find that task." He stalked off to the dressing room, the rigid set of his shoulders daring her to move while his back was turned.

Jenny was sitting at the head of the bed when Christian came back. Her arms were crossed in front of her and her mouth was a thin line. She glared at him.

"Your show of defiance is duly noted," he said, sitting down. He brusquely motioned her to lift her feet and place them on his lap again. He lifted her left ankle and pressed his thumb into the ball of her foot. Shards of glass glittered. He took aim at one with the point of his tweezers.

"You probably torture small animals as well."

Christian frowned. "How is that again?"

"What you said last night... about disliking cats and children. I see that it's true. A great bully like you would..."

Jenny bit back her words and knew even as she did so that it was too late. She could practically hear Christian's thoughts as his scowl deepened.

"You were awake," he said. "You heard me say that because you were awake." He tossed the tweezers on the table and grabbed Jenny by the back of her knees. He pulled her toward him before she recognized his intent. Her calves lay across his lap and the back of her thighs pressed against his. Jenny's nightshirt had ridden up almost even with her hips and neither of them noticed. Christian took her wrists and held them in a grip that made no allowance for fragile bones. "What else did you hear?"

Jenny shivered. Here was righteous anger held in check by a short, taut leash. She was more frightened for him than of him, but it was a narrow thing. She closed her eyes, blocking out the sight of his unyielding jaw and the tiny white lines of fierce, hot fury that had begun to take shape around his mouth and between his brows.

"Look at me!"

His command had the opposite effect. Shaking her head, Jenny squeezed her eyes tighter. She arched back and tried to dig into the mattress with her heels. The placement of Christian's thighs prevented her from finding purchase, and she pinched and twisted the tender skin of her wrists when his hold on them proved to be unbending. His hands were more powerful and far less giving than the leather restraints she was used to. Only when she acknowledged the futility of escaping did Jenny open her eyes. Her gaze fastened on a point beyond his shoulder.

"At me. Not at the wall. Look at me."

Jenny took a shallow breath before she settled her gaze on the muscle working rhythmically in Christian's lean cheek.

"How long were you awake?" he asked. When she didn't answer, he gave her a little shake to punctuate his question. "How long?"

"Please let me up," she said, unaware of the tears that glistened in her eyes.

But Christian was very aware of them. "Don't you dare start crying," he said. "I will not be moved. How long were you awake?"

Jenny could not push a single word past her thickening throat. She swallowed hard and shrugged. Her eyes slid to his, and she quickly looked away. The betrayal she saw there was a terrible thing to look upon.

"I swear to God I'm going to beat you unless you tell me what I want to know."

His threat effectively dissolved the lump in her throat. She caught a sob when he gave her another small shake. "I-I woke up when you s-sat down on the bed. You p-put my head on your l-lap and j-just held m-me."

"Stop it. Credit me to know a lie when I hear one, especially when it's told as pitifully as you tell it."

"I c-can't help it." Jenny did not know if she was apologizing for crying or lying. She couldn't seem to control either.

Christian lowered his head just enough to he catch her gaze again. Once he had it, he held it, daring her to look away. "You were awake when I came over to the bed, weren't you? You played the innocent this morning, but last night you let me crawl under the covers with you. You laid your head in my lap and let me stroke your hair." His voice quieted. "Why, Jenny? Why did you do it? What game are you playing with me... with all of us?"

"No game," she said quickly. "I swear there is no game."

"Tell me more."

"I-I woke up and s-saw you..."

"Yes? Saw me what? What was I doing?"

"Y-you were cr-crying. Bereft, I thought, grieving, and my heart ached. I w-wanted to..." As soon as the words left her mouth, she understood they were the wrong ones to say. Even with him watching her so closely, predisposed to believing she would lie, she still thought she should have been able to offer something more palatable than the harsh truth.

"I don't want your pity," he said. His pale, icy eyes drilled into hers. "More than that, I don't need your pity." His grip on her wrists tightened fractionally. "What else did you see?"

Jenny extended and splayed her fingers to restore circulation. He seemed oblivious to her distress. The pressure on her wrists did not ease. She bucked and twisted and tried to escape his hold again. Her neck arched, exposing the vulnerable white curve of her throat as she dug the crown of her head into the mattress. Her head jerked in small, agitated movements and her eyes dropped away from his.

Rather than releasing her, Christian rearranged himself so that he lay alongside Jenny. He threw one of his legs over both of hers. His hands maintained the hold on her wrists but more loosely now, and he pressed more of his weight against her, pinning her with his chest and hips. Apparently she needed to revisit the lesson that her strength was insufficient to move him.

Jenny's fingers itched to get hold of Christian's suspenders. Nothing would have given her greater pleasure than to draw them back as far as New Jersey and let go. She'd sling shot him to Albany... to Canada... to—

Christian interrupted Jenny's musings as he repeated his question. His eyes slid from the pulse beating at the base of her throat and fastened on the tremulous pink curve of her mouth. "What else did you see?"

She frowned. "I don't know what you mean. What else do you imagine I saw?"

He didn't know if he could trust her bewildered expression. Had she really not witnessed his attempt to sketch her? "Look at me and tell me that."

Raising her eyes, Jenny found herself trapped by his gaze once more. "I can't tell you what I don't know, and I don't know what you think I saw." She felt tears congealing in her throat and grew impatient with herself. Christian Marshall was not the only person who wanted privacy for his tears. "I-I s-said I saw you cr-crying and that's all I s-saw."

"All right," he said after a long moment, "I'll accept that—for now." If she had not seen him drawing, then she had no explanation for what moved him to tears. That suited Christian. As far as he was concerned, Jenny Holland knew too much about him already. "So, you witnessed something you did not understand and assumed I would be grateful for a distraction. You faked that little scene that got me into bed. You will forgive me for wondering about the other scenes you've played. That earlier nightmare, for instance. Staged or real?"

"I will not forgive you," she said. "It wasn't like that. You are being deliberately provoking. You're making it sound... I don't know, as if I wanted something from you."

"Didn't you?"

"No!"

"Didn't you want me in bed with you?" He bent his head so that his mouth hovered just above hers. "Isn't that why you laid your head in my lap? Isn't it? You have the most perfect mouth. I couldn't help thinking... Did you want me then? Hmm? Jenny Holland? Did you want me?"

"No," she whispered. She couldn't look away from him. Her body burned where he touched her. "No, I didn't... I don't want—"

Christian's head dipped quickly, without warning, and his lips moved over hers. Surprise was on his side, and Jenny's startled gasp gave him an unexpected opening to the sweetly warm recesses of her mouth. The pressure of his lips increased so the kiss held more in the way of punishment than passion. His mouth slanted across hers hard. His tongue darted between her lips, searching deeply, ravaging her senses.

Jenny twisted as panic replaced those first inklings of heat and desire. The weight of his body on hers was like being held underwater, and his kiss took her breath away. She was drowning. There was no screaming this time. Christian's mouth swallowed the sounds she made, and even to her own ears her protests sounded like the throaty erratic murmurs of wanting.

Christian felt her hip press sharply into his groin. He groaned, but not from pain. His cock swelled and hardened, and his hips rocked forward.

It was when she felt the intimate press of his erection that Jenny knew she was going to be sick. She clamped her mouth shut the moment Christian's head lifted and kept it that way when he bent to kiss her again. She felt his tongue darting, probing, but she offered him no opportunity to take more. When she jerked her head sideways, she had to tolerate his lips against her cheek.

"No," he whispered, his breath hot on her skin. "Where is your pity now? Give me your mouth, Jenny Holland."

She shook her head and tried to wriggle free.

Christian held her wrists fast. His lips nuzzled the curve of her jaw just below her ear. "Your mouth," he said again. "Open it for me."

Agitated, Jenny made a tight sound of rejection.

"What's this?" he asked. "Have you already forgotten what I told you before?"

No sound escaped Jenny's lips this time. She continued to stare in the direction of the fireplace and wished she could cover her legs. She did not want to feel him against her bare skin. His trousers were no barrier at all. They only served to remind her that she was the one exposed and vulnerable. Male strength and predatory power were all on Christian's side. Her breasts ached from the crushing pressure of his weight.

Christian's own breathing was harsh. He watched Jenny's nostrils flare slightly as she sucked in air through her nose. So determined was she not to surrender her mouth, she would not even part her lips to take a breath. Her heart was thumping against his chest like a racehorse's and she was still holding her own. Admiration warred with annoyance. He was damned if she was going to best him or use him or pity him. He had warned her to stay out of his way, and that she was under him now was the proof of how well she listened.