Rogues, Rakes & Jewels

After breakfast, everyone went strolling about the early spring gardens, gardens that were certainly in need of more care than they were getting, and Jewelene felt a moment’s frustration as she glanced over the unruly garden beds. When had life become so violently altered? The day your parents died … and your father left you with such staggering debts … that’s when, a harsh voice answered. She hushed it. She loved her father. That was not what she wanted to remember—but she would be careful when choosing a mate. She needed someone who would be solid and steady, and there for her always.

Beside her, tall and seemingly taking enough space to blot out all else, was Ryker—muscular, handsome Ryker. He hadn’t bothered to wear his hat, and the wind played with his layered waves of dark blonde hair. A quick look, and she saw that his gray eyes were on her and held a light that brought back an old dream—a dream where she could rely on someone strong and capable.

She wondered how he had so adroitly managed to detach her from the others and get her down this little-used wooded path. She wanted to get Ryker out of her head. She wanted to remind herself that he was the same libertine who had propositioned Babette last evening—only last evening—so how dare he look at her with such eyes! He was not the man of her dreams—he was not the one she could trust and rely on. Sadly, though her heart wanted him to be, she very much doubted he ever could be.

Yet, here he was, solicitous, and gentle, and flirtatious, yes, but there was that in his tone that hinted of more …

Here was the man who had taken her in his arms last night and kissed her like she was the only woman in the world he wanted—like she was the only woman he would ever want. Was she an idiot? She had had her fair share of kisses—yes, from boys, not from anyone even close to Ryker’s stamp—and his kiss felt so completely right.

“Where are you, Jewels … for your eyes tell me you are somewhere else?” Ryker smiled as he clasped his hands behind his back and paused.

They were behind an abandoned tool shed in the woods that lined the far grassy paddocks and completely out of sight of the others. She smiled naughtily up at him and tried to change the subject. “Now, how did you manage to get me here all alone …”

“Do you not wish to be alone with me, Jewels?” he said, unclasping his hands and taking a step closer to her.

She moved back against the weathered building. “I ah … I … how many women do you dally with in a day … how many in a week … Ryker? I don’t want to be one of them,” she answered her chin well up.

“I am not dallying,” he said, scooping her into his arms and bending his head towards hers to whisper as his lips brushed hers, “I am in earnest …”

He was going to kiss her if she didn’t stop him. The time to stop him was now. Now was the time.

The question flitted in her mind—how could he say that such a thing? How could he be in earnest? She frowned and said harshly, “You … you are a liar!” She pushed ineffectually at his chest.

He pulled away only slightly from her, and she fancied that instead of anger she saw a twinkle in his gray eyes. Why would his eyes twinkle? She had just called him a liar.

He said, “Harsh … my love—why would you call me a liar?”

“I … I …” she looked away.

“Ah, did Ben carry tales out of school?” he asked, and although he seemed to look annoyed, she did not believe he really was. An underlying current of something was going on here, but what?

“Ben? No … he wouldn’t …” She eyed him. “So … you have tales that could be told?”

He laughed. “I was at the Silver Heart … and I suppose a man that attends such a place must have tales …”

“Why?”

“Because last night there was an unusual masked Frenchwoman dealing faro, and I flirted outrageously with her …” He shrugged a shoulder casually, all the while still leaning in ready to take his kiss. “Just for sport.”

“Just for sport, you say?” He was so close, he was about to kiss her. Jewels, her inner voice called, … run.

He bent his head once again. “There is a difference …” he whispered huskily.

“If a woman were to kiss a man in earnest and flirt with another … just for sport, what say you to that?”

He kissed her then, long and hard, his lips parting hers, taking possession, his tongue engaging her in a tango that went from wild to gentle persuasion as his hand lifted her gown and he parted her thighs to cup the thinly covered tuft he found there. He came up from that kiss and whispered on a hard note as his fingers lingered between her thighs, “I would say, Jewelene, that is not a game you wish to play with me …”

What was he doing? He was ravishing her body, and she loved it. She moved into the hand between her thighs and wanted more. And then he kissed her again, and this time, her mind was lost to her heart because her heart demanded she let go. The last year of scraping and worrying and fending Omsbury, and she just surrendered—but for Jewels it wasn’t a game.

It was a dream—it was everything she had thought being in a man’s arms should be. As he touched her, the world around her vanished and the air filled with sparkling rockets that drowned out the sound of anything but his growl of pleasure and her whimper of delight as his hand wandered over her body and his kisses traveled over her neck. Then suddenly he pulled away …

“We will be missed … and I will not have you whispered about,” he said with an inclination of his head as he took her hand and led her down the path back towards the others.

She shook her head, unsure how he could withdraw so quickly. She wanted the kissing and touching to go on. For a moment she was off balance and thought she might stumble. “I cannot understand you, Ryker—I wish to understand you, for there is so much more than what you show to the world, but … you elude me.”

“It is my fervent hope that you will learn to know me soon … and trust me …”

“How can I trust you when everything about you is a mystery and everything you do leads me to more questions?”