Forbidden (7 page)

The knowledge brought him up short and
with her panting in his arms, her thigh, where his fingers anchored
her, now slick with a fine coat of sweat and twin flags of color
riding high on her cheeks, he looked down at her and tightened his
jaw.

She was too young, she was too rich,
and she was John’s daughter.

Repeat them again when his treacherous
fingers slid just a centimeter higher and pull her tight, bringing
her flush against the hard ridge at the front of his britches so
that her head fell back on a moan.

Too young.

Repeat it again when his eyes traced
the path of a drop of perspiration as it danced down her throat to
disappear in the bodice of her gown.

Too rich.

These words ricochet in his head and
are easily ignored when he found himself leaning forward, hungry
once more for the taste of those lips.

John’s daughter.

This is Jocelyn.

And that, God help him, is what had him
dropping that damnable leg and pushing himself away from her as if
she had the plague.

He felt cold where her body had been,
empty, and ragingly, achingly hard.

Her absence, he noted, was beginning to
leave a hole. And not just any hole, but one with her name
permanently engraved on it. Or at least that was the direction he
was afraid things were going if they hadn’t gotten there
already.

He needed to get control of himself and
fast.

Looking up, he met Jocelyn’s gaze and
barely managed not to flinch at the open vulnerability he found
there.

John’s daughter.

The words were enough to force the rest
of his hunger back when the other two reasons had failed to do
so.

“Da--” She caught herself. “Mr.
Burleigh?”

He’d wanted her to say his name. And
because he’d wanted it, still wanted it, his voice went cold and
his body coiled tight.

“Get out.”

“But--”

“Go back to your room.”

“Mr. Burleigh!”

“NOW!”

His voice was sharp, vicious and it
shocked the horses and the girl badly. Without another word and
with her eyes wide and hurt, she turned and ran back to the inn as
fast as she could, her skirts raised high so as not to trip and her
dancers feet flying across the pitted ground.

He could only breathe again once she
was out of sight and even then he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze
from the inn’s door where she’d disappeared.

“What the hell is the matter with me?”
He’d never acted this way before, never felt this way before. He
felt as if he were losing his mind, as if his skin was too tight.
As if he couldn’t fucking breathe.

Jet nudged the back of his head and
from the front of his stables, where she still stood after he’d
dismounted; Isabelle huffed and pawed the ground, her head shaking
so that her mane bounced. He looked between the two animals and let
out a shaky laugh that was unable to hide the uncertainty, and yes
the fear, he felt.

Following the horses example, he shook
himself and found the weight in his head easier to bear. Running
his hands down his face to clear last vestiges of confusion, he
laughed again and this time the sound held equal parts humor and
amazement which Bella, if her snort was any indication, found to be
a vast improvement.

“Well damn, Bell. Won’t ya look at
that? My hands are shaking.”

* * * *

Back in his room he paced.

That seemed his only escape now. Pacing
and cursing.

If he wasn’t careful, he’d turn into
his father.

His cock was still hard. Even after
he’d taken the time to water both horses and rub down his own
before putting them back into their stalls for the night, he still
ached with a dull throbbing pain that took his breath.

He wasn’t young anymore and the
constant rush of blood from his head was making him lightheaded. He
needed to sleep before he passed out, but if he slept he’d dream of
her and the process would start all over again.

If she didn’t get away from him soon
Damon actually feared for his sanity.

To top everything off was the knowledge
that she’d tried to run away. He would have been proud of her, hell
he would have packed her bags for her and carried them himself had
he not been pulled in two different directions.

Loyalty to John would see him through
this, but it was his loyalty to himself that had him thinking more
and more seriously of marriage to a nice, pliant woman as he rung
for one of the maids to bring him a bucket of ice and a bottle of
whiskey.

Chapter three

The blockade will be tricky but I have
a good idea on how you plan on getting around it. On that note: Ava
gets seasick and if you’ve seen how fast food goes into her
mouth…well let’s just say that that’s just as fast as it will come
out of it.

Ava started retching before they even
boarded the ship.

“Just watching our luggage swing back
and forth on that pulley….” her voice had faded and she’d gone
green, waving a delicate lace handkerchief before her face. The act
seemed to calm her a bit though Damon couldn’t see what any
practical use it had. He opened his mouth to tell her that he’d had
his housemaid Elaine prepare something to settle her stomach for
their voyage, but just then he’d caught a flash of Jocelyn once
again wearing her black mourning dress and he’d found some excuse
to leave.

Damon didn’t trust himself around her
so soon after his loss of control the night before, though the
clueless chit seemed more than willing to treat him just the same.
Almost as if he weren’t some manic, slavering, sexually starved
beast bent on devouring her innocence.

Maybe not to those extremes,
true.

But still.

He wouldn’t say that he was avoiding
her so much as being extremely … cautious.

Nevertheless he managed not to spend
even five minutes in her company before some aspect of their trip
pulled him away. He helped the sailors load the heavier trunks, and
joked with the captain. He walked the decks and right before they
set sail he went to where the horses had been penned to pet Jet as
his Bella would not be traveling with them. He’d asked Jeremy to
drop her off back at the plantation on his way through and the
other man had agreed happily enough. To say that he’d missed her
was an understatement. Bell had been the only thing he’d counted on
besides himself since his family had died. John was different, he
was a friend, a fellow soldier, and a mentor, but he wasn’t a
confident. He wasn’t someone Damon let himself be weak around, he
wasn’t someone he shared his thoughts and his fears
with.

That he did these things with a horse
should have been embarrassing, but Damon couldn’t have stopped if
he tried. He couldn’t make himself become so attached to another
human being knowing that they could be snatched from him, and
Bella’s absence, though consensual and practical in theory, was
still no less sad.

* * * *

Watching as the shores of her home
faded beneath the white mist of the ocean, Jocelyn tried very hard
not to cry. She told herself that she would see it again and soon,
and the words, the determination and stubbornness behind them were
enough to dry the moisture in her eyes before the tears had a
chance to fall. She took advantage of the fact that Ava was now
bedridden to explore the vessel known as the Gentle Marie. She was
worried about her sister but not worried enough to brave the sick
laden air of their shared chambers. Especially after Damon had
given Ava some type of powder that she was to pour in her water and
drink every day. He said that it would make her feel better if not
cure her and while Jocelyn trusted his word, Ava was simply too
sick and miserable to question it.

So now, guilt free and with a goal in
mind, she went hunting.

The soldiers liked her. Liked her
curiosity and her bright eyed attention as they explained things to
her. That first day alone she learned to tie a sailor’s knot, sing
dirty sea shanties, and most importantly, where each and every nook
and cranny on the boat was hidden. Every now and then she thought
she saw Damon out of the corner of her eye, but when she turned to
find him he would be gone. It was frustrating and a little
strange.

If she didn’t know any better she’d say
he was avoiding her.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d
say she missed him.

But she did know better and ruled his
absence from her presence as necessary after what had happened that
night. It had felt strange, it had felt good, it had felt … so very
different from the dreams that periodically woke her out of a sound
sleep, sweating and writhing with helpless yearning.

Even if her dreams had acted as some
sort of prep though, she still couldn’t believe she’d let herself
sink into him as she had.

She’d completely lost her head, her
senses had reeled, and her focus had narrowed to a point where
sight and sound made no difference, only the drugging onslaught of
touch.

A strumpet had more control over
herself.

But then again, whispered Jocelyn’s
common sense, not even allowing her the comfort of groundless self
pity, a strumpet had more experience with being a
strumpet.

Someone who’d just been introduced to a
strumpet’s way couldn’t help but to float adrift in the
sensations.

Or so she told herself, and felt better
for it.

Because the Gentle Marie wasn’t used
for passengers but for cargo, as she was a merchant ship and headed
towards Barbados on business anyway, Jocelyn, Damon, and Ava, who
was feeling a bit better after a day of rest and simply refused to
miss a chance to flirt with an unattached man, ate dinner with the
captain and two of his midshipmen in his quarters.

She stuck with her black mourning gown,
but even so the drab color seemed not to deter the men’s attention
at all. They were polite and complimentary but not overtly so. Ava,
in high spirits, preened under the attention, giggling and brushing
her hand over one shoulder even as she looked into yet another’s
eyes. The company seemed to be doing more for her sickness than the
medicine she’d drunk, even if Jocelyn knew that she’d pay for it
later that night by retching up every single thing she stuffed into
her mouth.

The midshipmen were enough distraction
for Ava that the Captain was able to pull away from her attentions
long enough to turn to Jocelyn.

He smiled and Jocelyn thought what a
handsome man he was. Not as devastating as Damon but rugged with
his sandy hair, blue eyes, and neatly bearded face.

So when he smiled at her she smiled
back and didn’t have to force herself to pretend as if it were a
pleasure.

“How are you enjoying the Marie so far,
Miss Holbrooke?”

Jocelyn reached for and snagged a
strawberry that sat on the platter in front of her.

“It’s lovely.” She said truthfully.
Remembering the boisterous sailors and the smooth clean lines of a
vessel whose individual parts she didn’t completely understand but
nonetheless admired.

The captain beamed now, smile moving
from polite to personal when he heard the sincerity in her
voice.

“She’s a good girl. Weathered with me
through the worst storms in my carreer and never failed
me.”

And because she was never one to turn
down a good story, she leaned toward him with bright eyes and
popped the strawberry into her mouth.

“Do tell.”

* * * *

She sensed his absence before she noted
it.

It was an emptiness at her side, a
sense of coldness along her spine where the heat of his gaze should
have been.

But she waited.

She listened to the captain and enjoyed
him, but always in the back of her mind she wondered
‘where?’

When a chance presented itself, she
smiled an apology to the captain in particular and the table in
general and begged to be excused.

“It’s been a trying day and I’m afraid
I must get some rest.”

The men nodded, stood and bowed, while
Ava looked at her from beneath her lashes and tried to pretend as
if she weren’t there.

When Jocelyn gave her a pointed glare
and raised a brow the younger girl hissed out and irritated breath
before turning to the men all smiles and instant sugar.

She knew Ava had wanted to stay but
Jocelyn couldn’t in all good conscious let her. After she had her
sister settled and in bed she’d go in search of her elusive
guardian.

She wanted to see him and Jocelyn
believed that she’d been patient long enough.

* * * *

He’d left after the
strawberry.

At the time seeing her turn those eyes
on the captain and lean towards him much the same way she leaned
toward Damon those many nights before, had set his temper
off.