Seven Years to Sin

  Jess excused herself as soon as was seemly. As the men rose to their feet, Alistair said, “Would you grant me the honor of a walk around the deck, Lady Tarley? Perhaps the fresh air will revive you further?”

  Nervous, she managed a small smile with her acceptance. They left the cabin along with the first mate, who vacated the passageway quickly, leaving them alone.

  She paused beside her cabin door. “Let me fetch a shawl.” “Here.” He unfastened the row of buttons securing his tailcoat.

  She protested, averting her gaze from a direct view of his chest. “A gentleman is never seen in his shirtsleeves!”

  His answer was delivered in a biting tone. “You are the only individual on board who will take offense, Jessica, and after what transpired yesterday, I find any attempt at modesty tiresome.”

  Her heart tripped over the austerity of his features. He had the glint of the devil in his blue eyes and a determined set to his square jaw that warned her he would not be easily deterred. How intimate she was with that look of barely restrained temper! It never portended well. “Perhaps we had best speak some other time.”

  “There are issues that need airing. The sooner, the better.”

  Despite her misgivings, Jess obliged him and set off toward the companionway. A warm weight settled on her shoulders as he dropped his jacket neatly over her. Immediately the smell of him teased her senses, stronger now, with an underlying unique masculine scent. Alistair was a virile male, and her body stirred with vivid memories of the evening before.

  They took the stairs up to the deck. Caulfield paused in a space unshadowed by the masts and rigging. With an impatient and imperious gesture, he waved away the two sailors who worked nearby.

  He loomed over her in a manner that made her both aroused and wary. He was flagrantly handsome. His classical bone structure took well to the moonlight that bathed him in silver. He could have been an ancient heroic statue come to life except for the vitality charging the air around him. Alistair Caulfield was alive in a way Jessica had never been.

  “I don’t know how to do this,” he growled, raking a hand through his hair.

  “Do what?”

  “Dance around the truth, pretend things are not what they are, and use formality as a shield.”

  “Formality is indeed like dancing,” she agreed softly. “It creates a known pattern of steps to follow that allow two disparate people to spend a length of time together with some purpose. It creates an avenue upon which strangers can travel together.”

  “I am not interested in dancing at the moment, or being strangers. Why did you stay?”

  “Beg your pardon?”

  “Don’t be coy. Why did you linger in the woods that night?”

  She clung to the lapels of his coat from the inside, holding the two halves tightly together. Not because it was cold, but because she felt too exposed. “You asked me to stay.”

  “Oh?” His mouth took on a cruel curve. “Will you obey all my commands?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Why did you obey that one?”

  “Why not?” she rejoined with lifted chin.

  Alistair stalked closer. “You were innocent. You should have been horrified. You should have run.”

  “What is it you want me to say?”

  He caught her by the elbows and lifted her up onto her tiptoes. “Have you thought about that night since then? Did you ever think of it when lying with Tarley? Has the memory haunted you?”

  Jess was dismayed by how close to home he struck with his questions. “Why is it important?”

  One of his hands lifted and cupped her nape, angling her lips to a position suiting him. His words puffed hot and damp over her mouth. “I remember every second you stood there. The rise and fall of your breasts as you panted. The feverish brightness of your eyes. The sight of your hand at your throat as if you forcibly held back begging little whimpers.”

  “There are witnesses around us,” she whispered furiously, trembling with fear and excitement. She was astonished to be responding amorously to his rough handling. She, of all people, should not find such attentions thrilling. It horrified her to think some part of her mind might have been trained to seek such treatment.

  “I don’t care.”

  Torn by her confusion, she spoke harshly. “Your brutish lack of charm may be sufficient for some women, but I assure you, I am not amused.”

  His hands fell away so quickly she stumbled. “Sweetheart, it’s more than sufficient for you. You look as hungry for me now as you did then.”

  She winced. Something dark and tormented passed over his features; then he turned away with a smothered curse.

  He spoke over his shoulder. “I have attempted to forget that night, but it’s impossible.”

  Jess looked away from his rigid back, allowing the crisp misty breeze to blow over her face. “Why does the memory trouble you so? You have had my discretion.”

  “For which I have long been grateful.” In the periphery of her vision, she saw him shove his hands into the pockets of his satin breeches. “You have avoided me in the years since. Why, if what transpired was of no importance to you?”

  “I know something of you I should not know. It made me uncomfortable.”

  “I made you uncomfortable,” he corrected. “I still do.”

  Whether consciously or no, a part of Jess recognized the feeling of being hunted. She sensed the turbulence of his desire and was frightened by it. Perhaps not so much because of his appetite, but because of her own.

  Alistair rounded her, so that he stood before her and took up the whole of her vision. “The more you hold yourself aloof, the more determined I become to draw you out. Yes, you know something of me that exists only between us. We should be more accessible to one another because of that, not more distant.”

  “As accessible as I am now, engaging is such candid conversation?”

  “As accessible as you were last night, without the excessive drinking. Although it was not our intention to cross the threshold we did seven years ago, it has been crossed and there is no turning back. I asked you to stay and you did not run. We shared a moment uniquely separate from our lives before or since. You clutch social mores, propriety, and rules of conduct around you as you do the shawls you wear, but we are beyond such barriers. Fate has conspired to bring us together at this time, and I, for one, am weary of fighting against it.”

  The possibility that they were fated to be lovers was somehow comforting, as if taking the decision from her hands freed her from responsibility for the inevitable consequences. It was cowardly to view it that way, yet the thought also gave her courage.

  She inhaled and spoke in a rush. “I am sorry for what I said to you last night before you left. I-I wanted you to stay—”

  “I whored for money,” he interrupted harshly. “I need you to know why.”

  Once the words were out, Alistair felt a profound relief, swiftly followed by a high tension. Baring himself was something he avoided at all costs.

  Jessica’s head tilted to the side, causing one thick pale curl to glide over her shoulder. She fisted the lapels of his coat, and fine lines bracketed her lush lips. She’d recently lost a husband she’d cared for deeply, yet Alistair had pushed her to ignore that for his own selfish need of her. Even now, her pale gray gown spoke of lingering mourning. He deeply resented the reminder of a man whose pristine conduct and fine morals were aspects of character he could never compete with.

  “Tell me,” she coaxed. “Explain so I may understand.”

  He spoke before he dissuaded himself from doing so. “At the urgings of my mother, Masterson granted me a parcel of land in Jamaica. The property was notable only for its insubstantial size and dearth of viable crop. It came with no slaves, no buildings, and no machinery. My mother also saw to it that his lordship provided a ship, and he was able to find the least seaworthy vessel I have ever had the misfortune of laying eyes on. I was faced with the possibility of being a man of me
ans, but with no funds with which to purchase any of what was required to make a success of it.”

  She exhaled audibly. “I cannot imagine facing such a daunting endeavor while knowing your livelihood rested on the outcome.”

  “You will never face it, thank God. But perhaps you can see how I was motivated to sell what skills I had at my disposal to earn the coin necessary to prosper.”

  “That is how you came to be known as one who would accept any wager.”

  Alistair nodded. “Any race, any odds. Anything pitting my talents against another’s for gain. I am also fortunate enough to be attractive to women.”

  “Impossibly handsome,” she agreed. “But you were so young then …”

  “Yet old enough to know I couldn’t afford to have ideals,” he finished tightly. It was not a decision he lingered over. If ruthlessness was required to survive, he had no qualms about doing whatever was necessary. “And in some respects, my youth was an advantage. I was randy, energetic, and far from discerning.”

  The last was said with more defiance than he would have chosen to share, but he was on edge, his stomach knotted with the concern that she might find his past insurmountable. “I enjoyed it in the beginning. All the sex I could manage, which was considerable, with women who were worldly and confident in their pleasures. The first time I was offered an expensive gift, it was a surprise. I realize now that for some it was a way to assuage their guilt over fucking a man less than half their age, but at the time I saw it as a game; what could I wheedle out of them in return for doing something I was enjoying immensely? I was also learning astonishing secrets about women’s bodies—how to read them and listen to them, how to drive them wild. There is an art to bestowing pleasure, and I realized I could master it, similar to any other skill.”

  “You were clearly an adept pupil,” she whispered.

  “Women talk a lot,” he pressed on grimly, unable to determine how she was responding to his brutally frank revelations. “Especially about things they enjoy. As with anything, the more demand there is for an object, the higher the price that can be set for it. I realized how I could profit and recognized that I’d be foolish to turn away any avenue of income, considering what my circumstances were. And after a while, it ceases to matter how you feel about the business. You learn to master your body regardless.”

  “Well.” It took Jessica an interminably long time to say more. Finally, she said, “I’m an idiot. It never occurred to me that you might not … appreciate the act. After all, Lady Trent is quite lovely—”

  “Some of them were; some weren’t. Some were lovely only on the outside. Regardless, when you sell something, it no longer belongs to you. You lose any right to refuse or deny anything, and if you want referrals and repeat business you dare not be too difficult or unaccommodating. Once I understood that I’d become a commodity to be used as required, whatever enjoyment I’d found previously was lost to me. It became a chore like any other, albeit a lucrative one.”

  “What of your family? Couldn’t they have—?”

  “I took the blasted ship and land given to me. My pride was not enough to impede my acceptance of those. Believe me, if I could have turned to anyone for assistance, I would have.”

  Alistair waited for her to ask why he was unable to turn to Masterson, and wondered how he could reply when she did. Already she knew more of his sordid past than he would ever wish to share with anyone. To share it with Jessica—the one person who appealed to him in a manner that was more than skin deep—was torturous. He wanted to be the man she desired above all others, yet he was so far below the heights to which she should aspire.

  “Then, you did what had to be done,” Jessica said with a conviction that surprised him. “I can appreciate the need to become whatever is required to survive untenable circumstances.”

  How easily she dismissed his disclosure. He could hardly credit it.

  He stepped closer, unable to bear the slight distance between them. “Would you have me still? Can you look beyond it? As much as I wish it were otherwise, my touch will sully you. But it will also pleasure you. Worship you. I want nothing so much as I want you.”

  “I accept you, Alistair. I do.” Jessica inhaled a shaky breath. “But the rest …”

  “Go on,” he ordered gruffly.

  “I am no better than the others who’ve used you for their own pleasure.” Her eyes were big and dark, her lovely features betraying an inner torment. “I wanted the right to command you, as Lady Trent did, not for reasons of safety but because it excites me to think of it.”

  The blood rushed to his cock so swiftly, it altered the way he stood. Her honesty aroused him, as did the image of her seizing her own gratification through use of his body. “Jessica.”

  She moved suddenly, skirting him and moving to the gunwale where one hand curled around the polished wood with white-knuckled force.

  Alistair followed, crowding behind her and setting one hand on either side of her. Her spine was painfully straight, her body gripped by high tension. He lowered his head and pressed his lips to her right temple. Somehow, he had to make her see how her upset revealed deeper feelings for him. “Is my subjugation what you want? Does the thought of coercing me to service you stir your blood?”

  “No!” He felt her swallow hard. “I want you willing, but you overwhelm me. I need control—”

  “You think I have any? What there is between you and me has never been safe, nor will it ever be. You have to accept our attraction for what it is, with all its faults and detriments, trusting that it will be worth whatever the costs may be.”

  “I don’t think I can.”

  “Try.”

  Turning in his arms, she looked up at him. “Forgive me for my thoughtlessness. I just wanted you to stay. So much so that I spoke without consideration.”

  He caught one glossy golden curl and rubbed it between his fingers. “Never apologize for your desire for me. But let me be clear—I come to you without affectation. You cannot have Lucius, not ever. That man no longer exists, and he never existed for you.”

  At the time, he’d told himself he used his second name to protect his identity. In truth, it was self-preservation and a way to distance himself from the degradation of accepting money to fuck women who wanted things from him they couldn’t get elsewhere without risk of scandal and scorn. Though some had wanted him for his face and body, a great many had wanted something else entirely. They’d wanted a lover known to take any bet … any risk … a man willing to do anything for coin. They felt less depraved knowing they’d bought the right to be as debauched as they pleased.

  She nodded. “I understand.”

  Alistair pressed his forehead to hers, miserable at the thought of her wanting a side of him he couldn’t bear to share with her. “You’ve never had him, you know. That night, the moment I saw you, it was just you and me. Lucius serviced Lady Trent. I was with you.”

  She exhaled in a rush. “Good. I don’t want him. I realize now that in offering to pay you, I was asking for him. After you had been the one to … touch me. I’m sorry.”

  Jessica’s eyes were clear and open, filled with sadness and regret. Perhaps a tinge of pity, which was the last damned thing he wanted her to feel for him.

  “I will give you whatever you want. Freely. You have only to ask.” Slipping his hand beneath the lapels of his coat, he cupped her hip. “Tell me the details of your imaginings.”

  “No!” The horror in her prim voice made him smile. “It’s indecent.”

  He bent farther and licked the shell of her ear. “Trust,” he reminded as she shivered. “I trusted you with a truth that could only reflect negatively upon me—”

  “I don’t fault you.”

  “Which means a great deal to me. Let me repay you. Tell me what you desire.”

  “You shouldn’t be so familiar.” She glanced around him at someone visible on the deck. “There is no privacy here.”

  “Can I come to you tonight?”
r />   Alistair waited forever for her reply, which didn’t come. Instead she grew more and more restless, fidgeting with his coat and shifting on her slippered feet. Afraid to push her too far too soon yet again, he backed away from her.

  “My cabin is two doors down from yours on the opposite side of the passageway,” he offered instead. “You can come to me.”

  She faced him with widened eyes. “I could never.”

  He smiled. Perhaps not, but the anticipation would be its own reward.

  Chapter 9

  As she had every morning for the past fortnight, Hester awoke with the overwhelming need to cast up her accounts.

  Rolling from her bed, she stumbled to the chamber pot and proceeded to do precisely that. The next hour until dawn was marred by more of the same.

  “Milady,” her abigail murmured. “I’ve set out some weak tea and toast.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Maybe if you tell his lordship you’re with child,” Sarah ventured softly, “he’ll mend his ways.”

  Hester looked at the maid with tear-blurred eyes, her chest heaving from her exertions. “Tell no one.”

  “Until you give me leave, milady, I won’t tell a soul.”

  Pressing a damp cloth to her forehead, Hester allowed her tears to flow unchecked. During the early years of her marriage, there was nothing she’d desired more than a child to complete the joy she’d found with Edward. But God was kinder than she knew by withholding His blessings. When the darker aspects of Edward’s character became apparent, she’d begun to use sponges soaked in brandy to prevent conception. She couldn’t bring an innocent into her household the way it was now. After all that she and Jessica had endured as children, how could she possibly subject her own child to such a life?

  But Regmont was not one to postpone his lusts until expected evening hours, and fate had its own designs.

  “If only you were here, Jess,” she whispered, selfishly longing for a sympathetic and knowing ear to listen to and advise her. She’d suspected she was enceinte before her sister departed, but could find no way to share the news. Jessica was deeply pained by her barrenness. It was impossible for Hester to lament a pregnancy that would have brought her sister endless joy.