Winter Bride: A Loveswept Classic Romance

  She smiled shakily. “It’s hard to break a habit. I was always the one to blame if something went wrong.”

  “Blast it, are you crying?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Then you’re damn close.” He turned her around to face him and looked down into her shimmering eyes. “Some Galahad.” He reached out and gently caressed her cheek. A multitude of emotions flickered over his face before he sighed. “Okay.”

  Tenderness again, coming as unexpectedly as it had those two occasions in the cottage. She knew he was struggling against it, but she didn’t care how it had sprung into being. For this moment, it was here. She stood very still beneath his touch, wanting it to go on forever. “Okay, what?”

  “Anything you want. Just don’t cry.” His voice was gruff. “All right, until we get to San Miguel I get to know the new woman and you put up with a man who is definitely no gentle knight.” He scowled. “But only until we reached San Miguel and get rid of Ronnie. Deal?”

  She smiled brilliantly. “Oh yes, deal.” She started to turn away and then thought of something. “Where … do I sleep?”

  “With me. That hasn’t changed. I have no intention of letting you become accustomed to sleeping anywhere else. Any objection?”

  “No, I just thought … I could sleep up here on deck.”

  “No way.” He turned his back on her and looked out over the ocean. “We sleep together.”

  Jed didn’t come to the cabin until nearly midnight, but she was still awake. She went rigid in the bed, but he didn’t speak and a moment later she heard the sounds of his undressing in the darkness. She tried to look away but found she couldn’t. She could see only a moving shadow, but that made no difference. The memory of his nudity in the cabin was suddenly before her. The powerful line of his thighs, the tight buttocks, the jutting arousal of— Heat suffused her and she quickly blocked the image.

  His skin gleamed pale in the darkness as he came toward the bunk, but it wasn’t pale, she remembered. He was tan and the dark hair of his chest was peppered with the same silver as his hair. He stopped beside the bunk and she could hear the rhythmic sound of his breathing as he stood over her. “I hoped you’d be asleep.”

  “How did you know I wasn’t?” she whispered.

  “I could sense you watching me. It was disconcerting as hell.”

  “I’m sorry. I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Scoot over.”

  She quickly moved over to the opposite side of the bed. “It’s late. I thought you’d changed your mind.”

  “And that I’d bunk on deck?” He slipped into bed beside her. “Why? I gave you my reasons and, besides, I like my comfort.” He laughed harshly. “Though this bunk may prove a bed of nails before this trip is over.”

  He lay there for a few moments, unmoving, every muscle locked and tense. “For Lord’s sake, go to sleep. I can feel you there.”

  “I’m having a little difficulty adjusting to sleeping with a man.”

  He chuckled mirthlessly. “You have no problem with letting me make love to you, but sleeping with me is too personal?”

  “It’s different. Sleeping requires a lack of tension.”

  “And a lowering of your guard.” He added bitterly, “And you can’t do that with—”

  The door to the next cabin slammed and they heard Ronnie whistling cheerfully … and loudly.

  Jed cursed beneath his breath. “I believe we’re being reminded we’re not alone.”

  “This doesn’t seem to be working.” She moistened her lips. “You’re getting angry again.”

  “I’m hurting, dammit.”

  “You are?” Then there was no question he would continue with abstinence. She tried to smother her disappointment as she thought for a moment. “Couldn’t we do it quietly?”

  She sensed him grow rigid and then felt the mattress shift as he turned to look at her. “What?”

  “I’d be perfectly willing to do anything you ask that would help you. You’d have to tell me what to do, of course.”

  “Of course,” he said hoarsely.

  “I remember crying out before, but perhaps you could put your hand over my mouth when you—”

  “Shut up.”

  The violence of his tone surprised her. “I was only trying to help.”

  “Help? You’re killing me.” He suddenly drew her into his arms and she immediately stiffened as she encountered warm, hard flesh. “Stop tensing. I’m not going to take you up on your offer. I just had to touch you.” His hand moved exploringly over her. “What are you wearing?”

  “A sleepshirt from Banana Republic.”

  His hand cupped her breast, weighing it in his palm. The heat was growing and an ache of emptiness was starting between her thighs. Yet, even as her breasts swelled in response, she felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  “Does the shirt bother you?” she asked. “It’s really only an oversized T-shirt, but I could take it off.”

  “Don’t say— No, keep it on.”

  The shower suddenly started in the next cabin and Ronnie began to sing.

  “She can’t hear us now,” Ysabel said quietly.

  “I know that.” His tone was distinctly edgy. “You appear very accommodating.”

  “A promise is a promise.”

  He went still as he caught the inflection in her tone. “But you’re disappointed.”

  She hadn’t realized she had revealed the disappointment that was part of the turmoil she was experiencing. “I don’t have the right to be disappointed. You’re in discomfort and we agreed you’d call the shots. I knew lovemaking was a possibility.”

  “And, of course, since I’m in need, it’s your duty to supply what I need.” He drew a deep breath and then his hand left her breast. “I’m afraid you’ve been trained a little too well.”

  She wanted him to put his hand back.

  Instead, he pressed her head into the hollow of his shoulder. “Yes, a promise is a promise. I guess I was in danger of forgetting I made one too.”

  “It’s all right, we can—”

  “Hush. Lie still,” he said thickly. “Lie very, very still.”

  Minutes passed as she lay there, excruciatingly conscious of his warmth, the soft abrasion of the hair of his chest against her cheek, the scent of soap and spice cologne. Gradually she found herself relaxing, accepting the intimacy. “It’s … not so bad, is it?”

  Jed didn’t answer.

  Another moment passed before she changed position, shifted a little closer.

  “Don’t do that!”

  As she started to scoot away, he stopped her, holding her captive. “Sorry,” he said gruffly. “Let’s take this one step at a time.” His hand began to stroke her hair, quieting her. “Just go to sleep.”

  How could she go to sleep when she felt as if she were lying next to a live grenade ready to explode?

  “Let go, Ysabel …”

  She loved the way he said her name, lingering like a dark sonata on the syllables, and the stroking of his hand on her hair had its own deep rhythm.

  Once again she relaxed against him. “If you change your mind, tell me.”

  “I wish you’d stop offering. I’m absolutely not going to change my mind.” He added in a barely audible tone, “Maybe.”

  “Well, if you do …” She yawned. She was beginning to feel drowsy, she realized in surprise. Odd, when only a few moments before she had been a galaxy away from sleep. Only a little drowsy, she assured herself. She was sure it would be hours before she was relaxed enough to go to sleep.…

  Seven

  “What are you writing?” Ysabel asked.

  Jed looked up with a grin from the computer he was cradling on his crossed knees. “I was wondering how long it was going to take you to display a modicum of curiosity. You’ve sat there watching me for the past three days and haven’t said a word.”

  “We’ve talked,” she protested. For a moment she lost track of what they had been saying as
she looked at him. The sun shimmered on his silver hair, and his eyes were bluer than the sea around them. She tore her gaze away from his face and shifted to his hands. Strong, tanned hands, deft on the computer keys, more deft on … She said quickly, “I thought you’d tell me if you wanted me to know.”

  “That politeness again.”

  “I can’t help it if I was well brought up. My foster father believed civility was close to godliness.”

  “Your foster father?”

  Darn it, it had been a mistake to have mentioned John. She should have known it would immediately arouse Jed’s curiosity.

  When she didn’t reply, he went on, “Ronnie mentioned you’d told her your father was a missionary. He was really your foster father?”

  “Yes.”

  “As communicative as always, I see.” To her relief he didn’t pursue the subject. “Courtesy is an anachronism in this day and age but then so are you.” He raised a mocking brow. “What prompted you to commit such a heinous crime as asking me such a personal question as what I’m writing?”

  She smiled uncertainly. “You’re making fun of me.”

  “Am I?”

  She tucked back a strand of hair the wind had blown over her cheek. “Yes, but I don’t think you mean it unkindly.” She looked out at the sea. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

  “Perhaps a little. It’s easy to do. You’re such a serious little animal.” He went back to the original question. “Why now?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose I feel … closer to you now. You’ve been very kind to me since we left San Juan.”

  “You mean I’ve been civilized.”

  A sudden smile lit her face “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to say it.” He continued to stare at her face with narrowed eyes and for a moment she didn’t think he was going to answer her. Then he said, “I’m writing a book. Didn’t you know every newsman thinks he has a best-seller in him?”

  “Is it about your experiences in the field?”

  “No. Fiction.”

  “What kind of fiction?”

  “Good heavens, two questions in a row. That must be traumatic for you. Historical.”

  Her expression must have reflected her surprise because he chuckled. “You don’t think it’s my métier?”

  “I’ve never met anyone who was more contemporary minded.”

  “We all need a certain amount of escape in this high-tech world.”

  “And you make your escape by going back in history?”

  “I’m not saying the people then didn’t have their own problems, some of them insurmountable, but life was simpler and less complicated.”

  “Yet you’ve chosen a career in which you’re continually confronted with the most complicated problems of the world.”

  “I didn’t say I couldn’t deal with modern life. I just need a rest now and then.” He raised his brows. “Is your curiosity satisfied now?”

  “Yes, thank you.” It wasn’t true. She had found her curiosity about him growing by leaps and bounds in their enforced intimacy. She had not known what to expect, but she hadn’t been prepared for the Jed Corbin of the last two days. He had practically ignored her while he was working, but, after he had finished, he had made coffee and talked to her casually about his experiences, asked her about her studies and opinions. During the day he treated her as platonically as he did Ronnie, and at night he had held her with almost fraternal gentleness. At no time had she been conscious of the anger and resentment he had previously exhibited.

  “Another thank you?” He grimaced. “I thought we’d moved away from that.”

  “I’ll work on it. It’s difficult to break habits ingrained in childhood.” She leaned back against the rail and tilted her head. “Why have you changed toward me?”

  “You think I’ve changed?” He shook his head. “Not really. I’ve just tried to keep my promise.”

  “And promises are important to you?”

  He nodded. “I’ve watched diplomats and heads of state make promises that affect entire populations and then not follow through for the sake of convenience or ambition.” He gazed past her, his eyes fixed unseeingly on the sea. “Perhaps that’s one of the reasons I like history. In this world we all need a code of honor like the ones back in King Arthur’s day.”

  “From what I understand those knights broke that code rather frequently.”

  “But a black-and-white code existed and when it was broken, you knew it was broken. The lines were cleaner and better defined. You didn’t slip into quicksand because you didn’t know it was there.”

  She chuckled. “Perhaps I wasn’t far wrong when I called you Galahad. You definitely have a medieval turn of mind.”

  He smiled faintly. “Not Galahad. Lancelot maybe. He was much more apt to break the rules and grab something for himself.”

  “Guinevere?”

  He nodded. “And glory and a piece of the pie. He was more of a materialist than Galahad.”

  “You seem very well versed in Camelot.”

  “Growing up with the Winter Bride bred a certain curiosity. She captured my imagination and I wanted to know who she was, where she came from.…” He paused and his gaze shifted back to Ysabel’s face. “And why she looked so frightened.”

  “She wasn’t frightened, only unsure and a little nervous. She knew she could handle whatever was waiting for her. I’ve always thought her husband in that castle on the hill would have a woman to reckon with.”

  His expression hardened. “Well, I suppose you should know.”

  The moment of warmth and confidence had vanished and she felt a flicker of regret. She forced a smile. “Yes, I had plenty of time to study and think about her over the years.” She swiftly looked away from him to Ronnie, who was standing at the wheel at the far end of the boat. “She’s been steering for three hours. Perhaps I should go relieve her.”

  His expression softened as his glance followed hers. “Heaven forbid. If that firecracker doesn’t have something to do, she’ll get out her camera and we’ll be in real trouble. She’ll probably decide to don scuba gear and try to film those dolphins that have been following us.”

  “True.” Ysabel had discovered Ronnie’s crackling energy could be exhausting as well as exhilarating. The girl seemed to have to be busy every second or she became restless. She had taken over the cooking, the cleaning, and lately had commandeered the running of the cruiser. “Who did you think might be in that cabin?”

  “What?”

  “Ronnie said you were always edgy these days.” He shrugged. “You don’t specialize in investigative reporting and not have enemies. I’ve had a few death threats.”

  She gazed at him, stunned. “Death threats.”

  “Why are you surprised? You knew about Marino.”

  “But I thought he was the only one and he’s on San Miguel. Why are you just walking around unprotected? Why don’t you have bodyguards?”

  “They’d get in my way.”

  She felt like hitting him. “Life is precious, dammit, and you go around risking …” She trailed off, unable to continue.

  “You’re angry.” A slow smile lit his face. “I’ve never really seen you angry before. It’s … interesting.”

  “I’m not angry. Why should I be angry at someone who could be so abysmally dumb as to wander around as if he owned the earth when people are trying to kill him?” She jumped to her feet. “And stop grinning at me!” She stalked across the deck to the opposite side. Her hands were trembling as they reached out to grasp the rail. Anger, she assured herself, it was anger, not fear for him that had struck her to the heart.

  He followed her, but she refused to look at him. “Go away.”

  “Why? I’m finding your reaction fascinating. You know how curious I am.”

  “I won’t be dissected.”

  “Isn’t it my turn? You’ve probed me enough this afternoon and I still haven’t found out any more about you than you like pizza and
hate artichokes.” His voice was soft, velvet persuasion. “Talk to me, Ysabel. How can I become acquainted with this new woman if you won’t trust me enough to let me in and get to know her.”

  Dear Heaven, she wanted to talk to him, to let the words flow into him so she would no longer be alone. She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it. A moment later she said shakily, “Later. When we reach San Miguel.”

  She could sense his sudden stiffening. His tone took on a sharp edge. “I’m getting very tired of that line. What difference does it make whether you tell me now or a day from now?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “No? Well, that puts me in my place, doesn’t it?” He turned on his heel and strode away from her.

  She drew a deep breath and closed her eyes. She had hurt him. Her reaction to the thought of Jed in danger had startled her and it was as if something inside her had exploded. She had never thought she was capable of hurting Jed, but she knew pain too well herself not to recognize it when she heard it. She knew she wasn’t being fair, but fear and caution were too engraved in her mind and spirit to permit her to be open with him.

  Jed was tough. He would get over it. They would reach San Miguel tomorrow and once there she would be able to be honest with him.

  Yes, everything would be all right once they reached San Miguel.

  Jed was grimly silent the rest of the afternoon and by the end of the evening meal even Ronnie was gazing at him with puzzlement and trepidation.

  When he had finished eating, he strode out of the galley without a word.

  “Whew!” Ronnie made a face as she stood up and began to stack the dishes. “What the heck did you do to him?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t tell me that. I know him.”

  “He … thinks I don’t trust him.”

  “Then tell him he’s wrong.”

  Ysabel didn’t answer as she carried her own plate to the sink.

  “You don’t trust him.” Ronnie gazed at her in disbelief. “Are you nuts? Jed’s like the Rock of Gibraltar. I thought you were savvy enough to realize that bad-boy persona was all publicity hype.”

  Ysabel didn’t look at her as she unplugged the coffee maker. “I’m glad you’ve found him trustworthy.”