Her Defiant Heart (61 page)

"But your leg," she said, protesting. "Christian! Really... put me down." Her arms circled his neck when he threatened to drop her.

"That's better." His smile held a touch of arrogance.

"You're impossible."

"I've heard that."

Jenny nuzzled his shoulder. Her lips touched the warm pulse in his neck. "I love you, Christian Marshall."

At the foot of the stairs, Christian paused. Mrs. Brandywine was on her way down the steps, and she looked disapproving.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked. "Where is your cane?"

"Be a dear," Christian said, "and don't fuss."

She snorted once and continued on her way. "It's not even eight o'clock," she mumbled under her breath. "And they're on their way to bed."

At the top of the stairs, Christian stopped again. This time he was facing Wilton Reilly. "I'm taking my bride to bed," he said, anticipating the question.

Reilly didn't raise an eyebrow. "Good for you, sir. Have a care not to drop madam. There's the babe to think of." Having said his piece, the butler followed in Mrs. Brandywine's wake.

Christian looked at Jenny to see if she was as surprised as he. She was trying hard to swallow her laughter. "It seems we each have our protectors," she said.

Grunting softly, he started for the master bedroom.

"I think they're sweet. In fact," she said, lowering her voice confidentially, "I think they're sweet on each other."

"Then they should get married. I may even insist upon it. That would keep them too busy to worry about my leg and your pregnancy." He shifted Jenny's weight in his arms when he stood in front of their door. "Open it, please."

"Of course." She turned the handle and pushed it open. When they were inside the room, Christian kicked the door shut with the heel of his shoe. "Now," Jenny said when he set her down. "Tell me about those things you want to do with me."

"Come with me," he said softly. "I'll show you."

Dazed, a little giddy, definitely curious, Jenny allowed Christian to take her hand and lead her across the floor to the cheval glass. He stopped directly in front of the mirror and then turned Jenny so she faced it. He stepped behind her. His hand rested on her bare skin just above the dropped shoulder neckline of her gown.

"Do you remember the first time we made love?" he asked huskily. "That was in front of the mirror, too."

Jenny swallowed. She closed her eyes for a moment and saw the powerful images he was evoking on the back of her lids. "I remember," she said. "Everything."

Christian's fingers trailed along the neckline of Jenny's gown. Casually, as though it were unplanned, they dipped below the lace trim. "I remember, too," he said. "I can't forget."

Just when Jenny thought Christian was going to reach under her gown and cup her breasts, he changed his tactics. His palms slid over her naked shoulders and down her arms. He circled each wrist with his thumb and forefinger. Jenny had no desire to break the flesh-and-blood bonds, and the look in her eyes told him so. He held the embrace a moment longer, then slowly drew his arms upward again. She felt his hands move across her shoulder blades. His fingers tugged on the buttons of her gown. After he had undone two, he eased her bodice lower.

Because of the baby, Jenny wasn't wearing a corset. Her silk chemise followed the lines of her gown, and just when Christian would have pushed the gown over the curves of her breasts, Jenny tried to turn in his arms to escape her reflection.

"No," he said gently. "Don't turn away. You're beautiful." He stepped closer so that she was cradled against his thighs. "Now, about this dress..." He nudged the gown until the bodice fell away and pooled around Jenny's waist.

It was just like the first time. She hadn't been able to look away then either. Now she watched Christian's hands cup the undersides of her heavy breasts. His thumbs passed across her nipples. Pregnancy had made them darker and more sensitive. Christian noticed the former while Jenny felt the latter. She shivered ever so slightly.

He undressed her. She turned then, giving him her back in the mirror, and undressed him. It was Jenny who led the way to the bed.

"I like making love with you," she said.

"Mm." He kissed the length of her throat. "It's a good thing. I don't intend you should like it with anyone else."

They shared a touch, traded a caress. Their mouths sipped, clung. They explored, whispered secrets, telling the other what they liked. The loving was still new to them, and a sense of discovery accompanied everything they did. Curiosity made them bold. The pleasure they found was elemental and profound.

Christian's breath caught at the longing he saw in Jenny's eyes. "Ah, Jenny Holland, how you make me want you."

She regarded him steadily, a faint smile on her lips. A flush stole across the delicate planes of her cheeks.

His hands cupped her face, and when her mouth parted and her lower lip trembled, he bent his head until his mouth touched hers. The kiss began as something tender and gently exploring. His tongue lightly stroked her lips before it moved against the barrier of her teeth. She opened her mouth and his tongue plunged in. He tasted her mouth, her lips, and could not seem to get enough of her heady sweetness. She reciprocated as he had taught her, and desire made her hungry for the warm taste of him. Her fingernails dug into his skin when he released her mouth and went on to explore the softness of her cheek and curve of her ear.

His hands and mouth became more demanding as his body hardened with desire and need. Jenny was breathless from the urgency of his caress. His mouth circled her nipples, and the hard buds burgeoned beneath his tongue.

He whispered in raw, husky tones that he wanted her, had always wanted her. The pleasure of listening to him was enough for her for a time. He guided her hands to his waist, then lower, between his legs, and she felt the heat and hardness. She wanted both inside her.

Jenny watched Christian's face as he filled her, and wondered at this man whose features showed such depths of passion and need. She saw strength in his vulnerability, courage in the act of trusting her, and generosity in the gift of his heart.

It was much later that Jenny turned on her side. Her head rested in the curve of Christian's shoulder; her tapered nails walked across his chest. She could feel his heartbeat slowing, his breathing returning to normal. "You weren't this out of breath after you carried me up here," she said.

"Used different muscles." He caught her hand while it was still balled in a fist. "No need to take violent exception. Ask Scott. He'll tell you the same thing."

"Because he's a doctor, I suppose."

"No, because he's a married man." He kissed her forehead. "And he knows all about it."

"I see." Her hand relaxed, but Christian didn't release it. That was all right with her. She didn't move for several minutes, content just to hold and to be held. Gradually, almost against her will, her thoughts drifted.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

She sighed. "I was thinking about Amalie."

Christian said nothing. He waited.

"It still strikes me oddly at times that you risked your life to save her, and yet, as things turned out, she's the one person who is going to face the hangman."

"Even if I had been able to predict the future, it wouldn't have mattered. Her dress was going up in flames, and Stephen was only trying to get away. Until then I really thought I wanted to kill them both. It seemed acceptable to me to set them up to kill each other, but to do the murdering myself... even when I thought you were dead... that you had committed..." His voice trailed off. He hated the memory. Jenny was the stronger one here; she could stand to hear him say it. "I realized I didn't want to be their executioner."

"Sometimes I wish I remembered what happened."

"And I give thanks every day that you don't. It was the shot you fired that untangled them. I am not sure why it worked, but it gave me a chance to help Amalie."

Jenny raised Christian's hand to her lips. The tiny white scars on the back were the only evidence that he had beat out the flames with his bare hands. She kissed the faint ridges on his knuckles. She knew from Susan and Scott that Stephen had tried to make his escape while Christian was saving Amalie. He had not gotten far. Mr. Reilly saw to that. By the time Susan, Scott, and a half dozen of Amalie's girls, including Maggie, found the source of the shouting and shooting, there was nothing to do except tend to the wounded. Jenny had recovered consciousness in Maggie's bed, and the first thing she saw was her reflection in the mirror overhead. She might easily have fainted at the sight she presented, but Christian had been there and pulled her gaze to him. Looking into the cool, clear pools that were his aquamarine eyes, Jenny thought she might drown in them and be content to do so.

"Your beautiful hands," she said, placing the one she had kissed against her heart. "Oh!" She moved his hand quickly, sliding it over her belly. "There! Do you feel it? That's our baby, Christian. Isn't she strong?"

"She?"

"Susan thinks I'm going to have a girl."

"Scott says it's going to be a boy."

"Does it matter to you?"

"No. Not in the least, but if it's a girl, we'll name her Caroline. After you. The name should stay in the family."

Jenny laughed. She supposed she was never going to be Caroline again, not to Christian at least. "And if it's a boy?"

"We'll name him after you, too," he said. "Holland."

"Holland Marshall." She tested the name out loud several times. "I like it."

Christian gave her a swift kiss full on the mouth. "Good. It's settled then." He kissed her again.

Perhaps the kissing would have gone on a little longer. Certainly that was the intention of both parties. It was the commotion in the hallway that brought them up short. Mrs. Brandywine was yelling at Mr. Reilly to be quiet. Mr. Reilly was shouting that she had lost her mind. Soon there were other voices joining the fracas. Jenny and Christian exchanged startled glances.

"I didn't lock the door," he said.

"Neither did I," she said.

"I think they're coming here."

"I don't think a closed door is going to stop them."

Simultaneously they dove for their robes, which were lying at the foot of the bed. They had just finished tying the sashes when the pounding on the door began.

"At least they're knocking," she said.

"It doesn't matter," he said as he straightened the blankets. "I'm firing all of them."

Wilton Reilly breached the entrance first. "I told her that you would not want to be disturbed, sir," he said, shooting a sideways glance at Mrs. Brandywine. "I'm afraid I couldn't stop her."

"And there'd be hell to pay if you had," she retorted, crossing the threshold defiantly. Behind her stood four other members of the staff. Mary Margaret's cap was askew because she was nodding her head energetically in support of the housekeeper.

"Isn't anyone going to tell me what this is about?"

"He's
to blame, Mr. Marshall," said the butler. "He walked in here not five minutes ago, right past me he went, looking for you. Turned the place on its ear, he has. This sort of thing never went on in the Van Dyke home, I can speak to that."

Jenny nodded. "That's true, Mr. Reilly. But neither did we have so much entertainment. You mustn't be priggish." She craned her neck, trying to get a look at the mysterious "he" that had so upset Reilly. "By all means, show the fellow in."

The employees looked at one another, shrugging, nodding, and finally, parting. A young man stepped forward to fill the void.

"It's my fault, I'm afraid."

Under the covers, Jenny's hand found her husband's. She did not need an introduction to the man who was steadily approaching the foot of their bed. He spoke with Christian's voice. He tilted his head at the same precise angle. His eyes, pewter gray rather than aquamarine, were as cool as a spring rain. He plunged his hand through dark hair threaded with copper and bronze.

"It was the story in the paper," he was saying. "The one that described how you caught the Benningtons with the pinhole camera.
The
Savannah Press
picked it up... I read it. There was something about it... something familiar. It was the first time in two years that I remembered any part of my past. In two days, I remembered every other part. I came as soon as I could—" He shrugged helplessly, not really knowing what else to say, suddenly aware of what he had intruded upon. Embarrassed, he grinned sheepishly. "This is probably the most dangerous situation I ever put myself in, and that's including the time I spent in Andersonville."

Jenny's gaze strayed to her husband. Christian's face was beautiful in its stillness. His strong throat looked tight with the effort it took not to cry. Still, tears glistened at the rim of his eyes. Her heart swelled near to bursting with gladness for him. She squeezed his hand and waited.

Christian swallowed hard, unable to take his eyes off their visitor. It was because of Jenny that he was here, Christian thought. Without her there would have been no pinhole camera, no story, no sudden revelations after two years of nothing. Jenny. His sweet Jenny Holland had already brought him so much joy. And now this. Christian returned the gentle pressure of Jenny's hand.