Forbidden (6 page)

* * * *

They arrived at port late one night at
the end of July. Jocelyn. Jeremy, and even Ava who had refused to
leave the carriage unless she absolutely had to, to protect her
complexion, were all bone tired by the time they shuffled into the
city. Damon, who should have been the worst for wear seemed unmoved
by the ordeal. They’d managed to stop by his plantation only long
enough to make sure everything was running smoothly and to inform
his servants that he would be away a bit longer than expected. They
mentioned weevils and his face had twitched for a brief moment
until he’d calmed himself and had them set up precautions for what
he termed, ‘the nasty beasts’. They weren’t there an hour before
he’d driven them on again. Rests were cut short and they ate in the
carriage.

If Jeremy was too exhausted to lead the
horses, he was relegated to the carriage with the women while Damon
harnessed his mare to the back with Jet and led the team himself.
When Damon himself needed rest he slept in the saddle and Jocelyn
guessed that the reason behind his hurry stemmed not only for his
fear of what the bugs would do to his crop but from her as well.
During the first half of their travels she’d hounded him
relentlessly to let her go back home. None of her efforts were
successful though, and indeed once she started on a new tactic
Damon would invariably find some way to steer the conversation
where he wanted it to be. Some days she found herself resting and
content with Ava before she realized that she’d spent the last two
or three hours giggling at Damon’s antics without once bringing up
the Virginian estate.

She had to assume that her intentions
were getting to him though because as she’d been watching him one
day as he rode sleeping by the carriage. Ava had screamed her name
in a bid to get her attention. He’d jerked awake immediately, eyes
bloodshot and face pale and looked at her. They’d stared at one
another before, with a snarled curse, Damon had urged Bella on and
out of Jocelyn’s sight. After that the pace had been even more
relentless.

Jocelyn would have been offended had
his desire to be rid of her not strengthened her own resolve to
leave. The idea of the ship, of the Caribbean, still rode her
strongly, but she hoped that she wouldn’t need to take things that
far. Surely she’d be able to convince him tonight. She knew he
planned on sending Jeremy back once they boarded the ship that
would take them to Barbados. If she hadn’t been able to talk him
out of this madness by now she doubted she’d be able to do it
between now and the morning. So she’d take things in her own hands
and run away. And as they rode up to the last tavern that still had
vacancy’s she believed she’d finally found her chance. Surely now
that they were practically at their goal Damon would relax his
guard and when he did she’d escape.

The best part about it was that by the
morning she’d be so far ahead that Damon would be reluctant to go
after her, especially after he had pushed so hard to get them here
so quickly. And since Jeremy was headed in her direction the
servant would just have to push the horses to catch up with her, an
easy task once their luggage was removed from them, and after that
they would travel the rest of the way together. The plan was so
perfect in fact that Jocelyn couldn’t help but dance a little jig
as she stepped from the carriage and watched the inn’s stable hands
come and fetch the horses. They stared at her feet for a moment,
stunned until Damon cuffed the youngest to get him moving
along.

“If I’d known that your sister’s
company was so bad I would have taken pity on you and had you ride
with me a bit more often.” His voice was softly amused as he passed
her and she clenched her teeth as he brushed past her to hook arms
with Ava to lead her into the inn. Her sister frowned at his arm,
but since he was acting the perfect gentleman and Ava rarely
ignored a chance to flaunt how charming she looked on a man’s arm,
she allowed herself to tolerate his company. Together they pranced
their way to the brightly lit building, Ava’s hair swinging and
bouncing along with her hips now that the promise of food and rest
lay just over the horizon. Jocelyn bit down on a flush of
irritation. She knew, deep down that Ava would be safe with this
man despite how badly they got along with one another.

She didn’t know when she’d come to this
conclusion, but something in his voice as he’d spoken of his sister
Clara and his mother said that even if he didn’t look it he was a
gentle man when it came to the opposite sex. He wouldn’t take
advantage of Ava and should anything threaten her he would keep her
safe if for no other reason than that he was stronger than her and
it was his duty to do so.

So she had no reservations about
leaving. She just had to pick the right time to do so.

* * * *

Damon found himself spending a good
amount of silver on his charges. He wanted them to eat heartily and
they didn’t disappoint. It was a mark of pride to watch little Ava
losing all that cultivated grace to rip into a turkey leg with all
the ferocity of a starving man twice her size. While Jocelyn, for
all her pride and shyness was a heavy hand when it came to pouring
the spiced ale. Just as she had at home Ava grew sleepy after she’d
eaten her fill and with Jeremy’s help they led both girls upstairs
to their rooms. Then Damon called for two chambermaids to bring up
water for baths and to help them prepare for bed. After that was
seen to he waved a weary hand to Jeremy as the servant shuffled
downstairs to find his own lodgings with the other servants of the
inn. He would have paid for the man a room, but Jeremy had insisted
that it was unnecessary.

“It’s only for one night after all and
I’ll be back in my own bed soon enough.”

Damon understood. Now that his job was
nearly done, he was appreciating the thought of his own bed more
and more by the day. Thankfully he only had a few more weeks, three
at most, less if the weather was in their favor, at sea until he
could see it again.

That night he lay on top of the feather
mattress and for the first time in a long time dreamed of something
other than hot blood and death.

Something different but just as
devastating because the hands that gripped him, stroked him, were
ones he knew. Strong and graceful, cool against the raging heat of
his flesh. The eyes that stared at him flashed green while the legs
he imagined around his waist and the hoarse screams sounding in his
ears danced in his veins to the familiar tune of Jocelyn, Jocelyn,
Jocelyn.

Just the name had his shaft throbbing
as he forced himself awake. Away from such dangerous territory
before he lost himself in it completely. He was sweating and wild
eyed as he rummaged through his room, pulling on britches here and
a shirt there and finally, with a snarl when they wouldn’t
cooperate, his boots. He wasn’t sure if Isabella would be able to
fix this particular problem for he was too hard to ride
comfortably, but maybe the process of rubbing her down with hay,
feeding her, watering her, would calm him. It was either that or
find himself staggering out to take a quick dunk in the freezing
cold ocean water and just the thought of it had his face twisting
in a mixture of disgust and a hopeless sort of resignation as he
slammed out of his room.

* * * *

Jocelyn was proud of herself. She’d
prepped her sister for her absence on the morrow after she’d packed
her things and was even now hurrying across the darkened yard
towards the inn’s stables. As she’d explained her intentions, Ava
had looked at her a bit skeptically, as if she doubted such a thing
would work. Though the lack of confidence stung it didn’t sway her.
And after an unwarranted amount of begging and pleading, Ava had
agreed to hide Jocelyn’s absence for as long as she was able to
once morning came. That was half of the mission completed right
there.

So it was with a light heart that she
skipped into the stables, fully expecting her ‘guardian’ to be fast
asleep after traveling so hard. She had reigned and mounted a
sleepy Jet before that assumption was destroyed.

Blocking the stable’s only exit was a
man. Since the lights from the inn were at his back his face was
thrown into shadow, but for some reason the set of his shoulders,
the careless swagger of his step set off warning bells in her
mind.

“Mr. Burleigh?’ She asked, her voice
higher than she’d intended. She tried again. “Why, Mr. Burleigh.
What a surprise. Whatever are you doing out so late? Shouldn’t you
be in bed?”

He was silent and his lack of response
coupled with the fact that she couldn’t read his face sent a bolt
of alarm through her body. He was angry, she sensed that much at
least. But there was something else, something heady and drugging
that she hadn’t felt since the night he’d found her in the hall.
Just the memory of it had her pulse spiking and a strange heat
pooling between her legs. The pit of her stomach tingled with
warning. She didn’t understand. Not the confusion he made her feel,
nor why he could make her feel that way when none other
had.

But it was there.

“I couldn’t sleep.” His voice was
sardonic. “So I decided to take Bella down to the docks and see if
I could secure passage on one of the ships.”

She cleared her throat and straightened
in her sidle, trying, unsuccessfully to hide her bags with her
skirts.

“And were you successful?”

“We set sail on the Gentle Marie
tomorrow at dawn.”

She smiled as if the news pleased her
while her heart beat frantically in her chest.

“Jocelyn.” Her name came out on a
whisper, a hissed warning in the darkness and Jocelyn’s stomach
twisted. “You care to explain to me why you’re out so late,
Princess?”

Jocelyn tried to hide her shaking hands
but knew it was futile. She’d never been a good liar and the effort
it took not to simply break down in tears and confess made her
voice wobble in a way that wasn’t terribly convincing.

“The moon. Yes, the moon. I’ve always
wanted to watch the moonlight on the ocean waves. I hear it’s
beautiful, and since we’ll be leaving tomorrow it’ll be my last
chance to ride for a while.”

Jocelyn looked at Damon and Damon
looked at Jocelyn, and though she couldn’t tell it in the darkness,
his eyes narrowed to dangerous slits when he caught sight of her
bags.

Instantly angry, probably more so than
he had a right to be, or would have been had he been in his right
mind to begin with, Damon reached out and grabbed Jocelyn around
one slim ankle.

She may not have been able to see him,
but he sure as hell could see her and the sight of her flushing
face as his flesh met hers satisfied the petty little monster
riding his back. If his very presence couldn’t cause her sleepless
nights, then at least his touch could rattle her.

It wasn’t much. But for now it was
enough.

“You’re going for a ride?” he asked, if
only to confirm the blatant lie.

“Yes.”

“In the dark?”

“Ye-yes.” Her chin came up now,
stubborn, and her eyes flashed a challenge at him.

“With all of your things?” His voice
was careful, but even he could hear the ice beneath the words.
Guilty, Jocelyn looked over her shoulder at her bags and cursed. By
this time Damon had had more than enough and using his grip on her
ankle, he tugged her forward until he could capture her waist with
the other.

For one heart stopping, gut clenching
moment as he pulled her from the horse and slid down his body, he
was cradled between her legs. He could feel her breasts, plump
mounds of heat that seared his flesh and his breath caught as her
nipples peaked through the material of her gown as they slipped
past his face. She wasn’t wearing the trapping a woman of her
station usually wore beneath her clothes and Damon could only
surmise that it had to do with her haste to escape.

His grip on her ankle became soft, a
tool to caress rather than to trap and punish and he let his
fingers run over her bare ankle to her calf. Over that smooth
roundness to the dangers of her outer thigh, the touch of which
sent her body into a delicate trembling that had he not been
pressed so closely to her, he never would have noticed. By this
time she’d slid far enough that her breasts were crushed against
his chest and her mouth was on level with his own and when he could
drag his gaze from the plumpness of her lower lip he fell into
those eyes….

And right there with the smell of the
stable and the whinnying of the horses fading in his awareness and
her dress hiked up over his wrist and her nipples burning against
his body like brands, he tightened the hold he had on her thigh,
and pressing her back against the solid strength of her horse he
kissed her. His lips were punishing, his tongue when it came to
tease the dewy seam of her lips, almost cruel. He could feel a fire
raging in him, a need so deep and strong it left him stunned as he
plundered those delicate lips with his own. And then, in the
relative peace of the stables, as his lips separated from hers in a
brief instance to drag in air, a sound pierced the night. Her mouth
had parted and her eyes were closed tight. Her body arching against
him in silent plea, he was sure she didn’t understand, she let
forth a broken, needy whimper from somewhere deep in her throat. A
sound that he wanted nothing more than to swallow on his tongue
until she produced another and yet another.