Jaded Moon (Ransomed Jewels Book 2) (13 page)

Oh, she wished she hadn’t seen this side of him. It was so much easier to protect herself from him when she thought he didn’t care.

Josie watched him sleep until his slow steady breathing caught and his head moved slightly. She knew the instant he was awake enough to realize where he was and remember what had happened. He released a pain-filled sigh and his breathing turned rapid and shallow.

“Don’t move,” she said, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Just lie still.”

“Miss Foley.”

He whispered her name then sank back into the mattress. Josie filled a glass with water and took it to him. “Here, drink this,” she said, putting her arm beneath his head and raising him enough to drink. He sank back when he was finished.

“Thank you.”

“Are you in a great deal of pain? I can lace some tea with more of Granny’s whiskey.”

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. “I think I had enough of Granny’s whiskey last night. If I’m not careful, my head’s going to hurt as much as the rest of me.”

Josie smiled and sat back down on the chair where she could keep a certain distance from him. For some reason she couldn’t understand or explain, she wanted to reach out and touch him. She wanted to lift the errant lock of dark mahogany hair from his forehead, then run her fingers across his brow and down the side of his face. She wanted to press her palm against the dark stubble on his cheek and jaw and feel its prickly roughness. A knot formed in the pit of her stomach, leaving her with a sensation she’d never felt before—a warmth that rushed with fiery speed through her chest, then settled down low in her belly. The force of it nearly stole her breath. She clutched her hands in her lap to keep them from reaching out.

“Are you sure you didn’t see who shot you?”

“No. I thought perhaps you might have an idea who it could have been.”

Josie stared at him in disbelief. “Are you suggesting I had something to do with what happened to you?”

“No. But you know the people around here better than I do. Perhaps you know who might be opposed to bringing in cattle other than you and Baron Lindville.”

“Surely you don’t suspect Baron Lindville.”

“I don’t suspect anyone. Although Baron Lindville did make it plain I wasn’t welcome here.”

“But that doesn’t mean he’d try to harm you.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

But Josie knew it was more than possible that Lindville had fired the shots that injured the marquess. Knew it because other than herself, he had the most to lose from putting cattle above the caves.

He turned his head to look at her. “What were you doing out there in the middle of the night?”

“I couldn’t sleep either and I was too busy counting all the cattle you intend to bring in to think of sheep.”

He smiled, then the look on his face turned serious. “I’m sorry Lady Clythebrook made the demands she did.”

His quiet statement pulled her thoughts back from where she’d been. “Then you regret the hours we’ll have to spend together, too?”

His eyes were closed but a slow, lazy smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “That wasn’t the demand I was talking about.” His eyes opened. “I was talking about Lady Clythebrook’s plan to take you to London.”

“That won’t happen.”

“You don’t think her health will allow her to make the trip?”

“It’s a trip I have no intention of making.”

“But you agreed—”

“No. I agreed to suffer through thirty days of your tutoring to gain supreme knowledge of all the designing schemes your fellow disreputable rakes might use to destroy my reputation. I agreed to learn from you to avoid being ruined when I go to London.”

“Why did you bargain for thirty days? What is so important about that amount of time?”

Josie refused to lower her gaze. That would be a sure sign she had something to hide. “Because that is all the longer it will take.”

“Take for what?”

“For you to tire of the country and go back to London where you belong.”

“You don’t have a very good opinion of the nobility, do you, Miss Foley.”

“They’ve earned my low esteem. Suffice it to say I haven’t had many positive experiences with the exalted members of our Society.”

“So you lump all of England’s nobility into the same reprehensible heap like so much garbage? Even the late Earl of Clythebrook?”

The air caught in her throat. “How dare you.”

“I dare because you’re letting your jaded impression of the nobility cloud your thinking. How old were you when your mother died?”

His innocent-sounding question stopped her cold. This was a topic she didn’t want to discuss. “You’ve talked enough. Sleep now. You need the rest.”

“How old?”

Josie knew he had no intention of giving up. She’d seen examples of his tenacity often in her dealings with him. She breathed a heavy sigh and capitulated. Besides, what did she care if he knew? Her past was no secret.

At least the part she was willing to share.

“My mother died when I was seven. That’s when I went to live at the orphanage.”

“And your father?”

She raised her chin. “I have no father. Not one who would claim me.”

A brief silence separated them before he asked the one question that had the power to pull the breath from her lungs.

“What title does the man who sired you boast? An earl, perhaps? A marquess? Or is he a duke?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

“His title is hardly worth mentioning,” she said, trying to keep the bitterness from her voice.

“Isn’t it?”

The look he gave her challenged her and she lifted her head high when she answered him. “He’s a marquess. A man living the life of the leisured without a care for anyone but himself.”

“Even his daughter?”

“He has daughters, sir. Two of them. As well as two sons. All born legal and within the bonds of his marriage to his marchioness.”

“And you resent—”

“I resent nothing! He means nothing to me. I put any thought of him behind me years ago.”

“You wouldn’t like to meet him? To see him face to face? To talk with him?”

She paused, then answered honestly. “No, I wouldn’t. Just as he has no desire to meet me. It’s too late. Twenty-seven years too late. He’s never been a part of my life. Other than to serve as a valuable lesson. My mother made the mistake of loving a man who took everything she had to give including her heart. Then he abandoned her along with the child she was carrying. It is not so uncommon a story. Especially where the privileged are concerned.”

“So you condemn all nobility? Including me?”

“You are worse, my lord. The man who fathered me never pretended to want me. Your son is not so fortunate.”

Josie stood and looked down on his pale face. He showed distinct signs of the pain he must be feeling.

“Someone is trying to kill you, Lord Rainforth. Which means the child you claim to care so much for is not safe anywhere near you.”

Ross swung his feet over the edge of the bed and stood. He couldn’t lie in bed any longer, not with Josephine Foley’s words crashing through his mind like an attacking army.

Someone is trying to kill you… Which means the child you claim to care so much for is not safe anywhere near you.

He had to discover who was behind the smuggling operation and put a stop to it. He wasn’t safe until he did.

He couldn’t be a father to his son until he did.

Ross walked across the room and pushed back the curtains at Granny Farland’s window. The wound at his side still ached when he moved but he’d already spent four days abed and during that time the shipment of opium could have been delivered and he wouldn’t have known anything about it. He couldn’t waste any more time pampering himself when so much was at stake.

Everything was falling into place, and now that Lady Clythebrook had decided to go along with his venture, he needed to make the final arrangements so the work could begin when the thirty days of meeting with Miss Foley were up.

Ross fought the unwelcome heaviness that settled deep inside him every time he thought of her. Just having her tend him for the past four days had been a torture of its own. He wasn’t sure how he’d survive the next thirty days, but he would. Nothing this side of heaven would keep him from meeting with her—even the slash in his side that still burned like hell. He wasn’t about to give her the slightest opportunity to say he hadn’t complied with his part of Lady Clythebrook’s demands.

Ross dropped the curtain back into place and sank down on the chair in front of the fire. This was the chair where she’d sat for so many hours during the last four days. He remembered the glow of her skin from the fire as it blazed. He remembered other things too. Things he wished hadn’t had such an impact on him, like her soothing voice breaking through the pain during the first few days, or the gentleness of her ministrations while she cleaned his jagged flesh and put fresh bandages on him. Or the light touch of her fingers against his forehead when she thought he was asleep, or the warmth of her hand nestled in his long after she’d fallen asleep and thought he had, too.

He pushed himself to his feet. He would be glad to be gone from here. Granny Farland’s cottage held too many memories he was better off forgetting. He turned around to go back to the window and stopped when the door opened. Josephine Foley stood with the sun at her back and a halo of light framing her face. A frown deepened on her forehead and when she spoke her voice contained a tone of concern.

“What are you doing out of bed?”

“Waiting for someone from St. Stephen’s to come for me.”

She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. She was beautiful today, more beautiful than even yesterday, if that were possible. Her hair was pulled loosely from her face and several tendrils of golden tresses had escaped their pins. Her face was flushed from walking in the outdoors and her cheeks had a rosy glow that made her look young and carefree. The knot that formed low in his belly every time she came near him was back with a vengeance.

She stepped into the room and pulled at the ribbons from her bonnet, then removed it. “Are you sure you’re well enough to travel?”

“Yes, I’m much stronger today. Besides, I have to prepare for Sunday. I have a very important engagement I cannot miss.”

She was in the process of setting a small bag down on the table and looked up sharply when she realized what appointment he meant. “You’re barely well enough to make it the short distance to St. Stephen’s in a carriage. I won’t allow you to even think about coming to Clythebrook to take me for a ride.”

“And have you accuse me of failing to fulfill my part of the bargain?”

“Lady Clythebrook doesn’t expect us to meet after what happened to you.”

“But I do.” He took a step closer to her. She answered his maneuver by stepping around the table to put a kettle of water over the fire. Her subterfuge amused him. “I refuse to let you say I broke my word.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

He laughed. “You would. You’d use any excuse you could to avoid having to spend the next four weeks in my company.”

Her dainty chin raised an inch in defiance. “I didn’t sew you up to have you tear your stitches out bouncing along the rutted roads around here.”

“I agree I’m not looking forward to trying to manage a team just yet, but that doesn’t mean I intend to let you escape the stipulations Lady Clythebrook insisted upon. You have much to learn about disreputable rakes.”

“I already know more than I need to know, thank you very much.”

He laughed again. “We’ll compromise then. We’ll spend the time together as per our agreement, but perhaps a stroll through your garden will be enough for our first afternoon. I’ll compare you to the beautiful flowers.”

“There aren’t any beautiful flowers.”

“See how little you know. When a man is in a woman’s company, he’s not expected to notice the flowers. He’s supposed to be blinded by his companion’s beauty and tell her that.”

She sank down on one of the chairs by the table and looked at him with the most adorable smile on her face.

“And that lie works?”

“Your naiveté is showing. I’ll have you know that that particular comment has been known to cause women to swoon at my feet on more than one occasion.”

She laughed. “That doesn’t say much for the women with whom you associate.”

“You wound me,” he said, clasping one hand over his heart.

“I doubt you wound so easily. Even you, experienced as you are in the art of deception, cannot be fooled by such a shallow reaction.”

“What would you rather I said?”

“The truth. That you see there are no flowers on our walk through the garden, but since we are forced to spend time in each other’s company, we will ooh and ah over the bare branches, the lack of blooming colors, and the occasional early green shoot.”

The expression on her face was so serious he had to laugh. “Ah, Josephine. Surely a rake of my renown can do better than that?”

In the blink of an eye, the teasing remarks and easy camaraderie they’d shared were gone.

“Please, don’t call me that.”

“What?”

“Josephine.”

“Why? That’s your name. Mine is Ross. I’d like you to call me that.”

She spun on him. “For what purpose? We can never be on a first name basis. You’re a marquess. Is getting rid of your title the initial step in breaking down the barriers that separate us? And who will be the weaker for it?”

“Weaker? Does one of us have to be weaker?”

“In the game you’re playing, someone is always weaker. And it’s not the pursuer. It is the pursued.”

“And why do you assume I am pursuing you…
Miss
Foley?”

“Your son…
Lord
Rainforth. I have something you want.”

Her words dropped around his neck like a tightly pulled noose. “Do you think I would use charm to get my son away from you?”

“I think you’ll do whatever you think will benefit you.” She paused. “But you no longer have to waste your efforts. I’ve decided not to fight you any longer.”

His heart tripped, then raced faster in his chest. “You’ll give me the boy?”

“He’s your son. I can’t keep him from you. I never could.”

“But you did.”

She shook her head. “I just held onto him as long as I could.”

“Why the change?”

“Because I know if you truly love him as you claim, you won’t take him.”

She stood, then walked over to the window. With her back to him, she pushed aside the curtain to look out. “Someone tried to kill you. And they might try again. Is having Charlie with you worth the danger you’ll put him in?”

Ross felt a rock fall to the pit of his stomach. He stared at the cookies she’d placed on a cloth and the cup of tea she’d poured and set in front of him. She was offering him the child he’d wanted since he found out Charlie existed. But only because she knew he wouldn’t take him.

Ross sat a second longer then slid his chair back from the table and stood. “Does Lady Clythebrook know how good you are at games, Josephine?”

He saw her shoulders lift at the use of her first name.

“I don’t have to resort to games when dealing with Lady Clythebrook.”

“That’s not true. Your request of thirty days was a game. I know what you told me, but there’s something more significant to the time you demanded.”

“It will only be significant if I win, and that’s yet to be seen.”

“And what will you win?”

Josie let the curtain drop with a definite snap and turned around. “Not nearly enough, sir. Not nearly enough.”

“Then we have both gained the same. You’re only offering me my child because you know I won’t take him.” He glared at her. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to at least see him.”

He waited for her to give him some indication that she’d allow that concession but all he heard was the sound of an approaching carriage. She held his gaze a moment longer, then, as if still weighing her answer, turned her back on him and began the process of gathering his belongings. When she was finished, she walked to the door and opened it. A servant from St. Stephen’s stood outside and when she motioned toward Rainforth’s things, the man carried them to the waiting carriage.

She stepped back and stood beside the dying fireplace. Ross couldn’t leave her like this, not while this uncomfortable chasm separated them. He closed the door, then walked up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders.

“We’re not finished—you and I.”

Every muscle beneath his fingers tensed but he didn’t release her. Instead, he slowly skimmed his hands downward and clasped her around the upper arms, then turned her to face him. He could tell she wanted to step away from him but forced herself to stay. Perhaps one day he would tell her how much he admired her courage.

“You play the game well, Josephine.”

He cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand and rubbed his thumb along her lower lip. She tried to turn her head but he wouldn’t let her. He framed her face with his hands and lowered his mouth to kiss her.

He hadn’t intended for the kiss to be anything more than a brief touching of their lips, but that wasn’t the result. The minute his lips met hers, a searing blaze kindled inside him, unleashing a display that rivaled the Queen’s birthday fireworks. He pulled back from her before he was tempted to kiss her again.

The set of her chin matched the lift of her arched brows. “Was this my first lesson?”

He smiled. “Oh, no. An experienced rake would never be so obvious.”

She stepped back. “Did you think your kiss would break down my resolve to keep Charlie where he was safe?”

His smile faded. “I would
never
risk my son’s safety. I only want to see him.”

With a heavy heart, he turned and walked to the door.

“Lord Rainforth.”

Her voice reached him just before he stepped out into the sunshine. He stopped and turned.

“If the weather holds tomorrow, I promised the children I’d take them on a picnic. You’re welcome to join us.”

“Will
all
the children be there?”

“Yes.”

Ross swallowed past the lump in his throat. “You are full of surprises, Miss Foley. Thank you.”

A ray of sunshine streamed through the open door and bathed her in a wash of brightness. A strange tightness settled in his chest and he smiled at her before he walked to his waiting carriage.

He was finally going to see his son.

. . .

Josie watched the children play games, and all the while her gaze kept darting to the top of the rise the marquess would come over if he planned to join them. And surely he would. She couldn’t imagine him giving up the opportunity to see his child. Not after he’d gone to such lengths to find him.

“Miss Josie! Look what Amanda found!”

Josie looked down as two little girls raced toward her, the one’s hand outstretched as if carrying the most precious gift in the world.

“We found it climbing up the side of the tree. Robbie says it lives there.”

Josie looked down to find a brown, fuzzy caterpillar crawling determinedly over Amanda’s palm and wrist, then further up her arm.

“Isn’t it beautiful, Miss Josie?” Amanda said.

Josie watched the four-year-old tentatively reach out, then brush her pudgy little finger lightly over the top of the furry creature. The caterpillar kept moving.

“It tickles,” she said on a giggle.

Josie ran her finger along the insect. “That’s because of all his tiny little legs scampering at the same time.”

“Cissy wants to hold it but it won’t go to her and I’m afraid to pick it up.”

Josie brushed a smudge of dirt off Cissy’s face then took her hand. “Hold out your finger, Cissy.”

The three year old held out one short finger and Josie placed it in front of the caterpillar. Amidst peals of giggles and after two aborted attempts, the insect finally crawled from one little girl’s hand to the other.