Jade Star (Star Quartet 4)

She felt his fingertip wipe away the single tear that coursed down her cheek. “I’m not,” she sniffed. “I was just thinking that perhaps I didn’t hear exactly what you said.”

He squeezed her, feeling himself growing hard within her again. “Woman, you heard me right, and you know it. As you can feel, my body agrees with me. Will you rush me this time, Jules? Or will you let a simple man give you everything he can, and very slowly?”

Jules felt dazzling sensations, and her muscles convulsed, making him moan. “I don’t know, Michael,” she said. She came on top of him, and he helped her straddle him. He was very deep inside her. His large hands covered her breasts, and she arched her back, her hair streaming over her shoulders and over his hands. When his fingers stroked downward to find her, she gasped. “I don’t think I can, Michael.”

“Dear heavens,” he gasped, arching up to fill her completely with himself, “I can feel your womb.”

He felt her hands close over his wrists, felt her thighs tighten about his flanks. He thought he would never see anything so beautiful as the dazed sheen in her eyes. “Yes, love,” he said, “come with me, now.”

Her response was a shuddering groan.

Saint lay awake after Jules was sleeping like a stated little animal in the crook of his arm. His eyes traced the shadowy patterns cast in the far reaches of the bedroom by the moonlight silvering through the window. Life, he thought, would be perfect if it weren’t for that bastard Wilkes. During his several years at Massachusetts General Hospital, he’d dealt with the insane, people who were mindless yet utterly harmless, people who were mindless and violent, people who believed they were someone else, usually long dead, and people, he realized, who were obsessed with an object, an idea, or another person. His reason rebelled against the notion, but faced with Wilkes’s actions, he could not deny it.

He’d assumed in the beginning that Wilkes wanted this lovely girl because she was a virgin and would bring him a great sum of money. But her marriage should have made him realize the futility of his wish. Unless all he wanted was revenge. But no, Saint’s thinking continued, that didn’t make sense either. His arms tightened about his wife. There was no choice now, not really. He would have to kill Wilkes.

He would find Limpin’ Willie in the morning. Perhaps Willie’s criminal mind could aid him in finding Wilkes. Jules muttered something incomprehensible in her sleep and Saint smiled. He hoped she was dreaming of him and enjoying every bit of it.

He had helped her cleanse herself, Jules too exhausted to protest, and he wondered now how long it would be before she became pregnant with his child. His body stirred at the powerful thought, a useless action, he told himself, grinning. He began to breathe deeply and slowly, a habit he had learned early in medical school, and one that put him to sleep within minutes.

The following morning, Jules and Saint helped Thomas and Penelope move back to the Stevenson mansion. Bunker, Saint thought, after he’d examined him briefly, would live to be ninety.

“Well, my boy,” Bunker said, “it’s good to have you back again. Not that I don’t like Pickett, mind you, but—”

“Thank you,” Saint said quickly, cutting him off. “Now, what you need are more rest and a daily dose of fresh air. Have your man Ezra drive you out every afternoon.”

Mrs. Stevenson was a different matter, and Saint felt a stab of pity for Penelope when her mother fell on her, weeping.

“Leave go, Sally,” Bunker told his wife sharply. “The girl’s a married woman now and has lots of new responsibilities. And she looks happy as a tack.” He turned back to Saint. “A good man, my son-in-law,” he said, not bothering to lower his voice even though Thomas was within hearing distance. “He’ll make a fine doctor, I don’t doubt. Ah, yes, Saint, I’ll help him right enough. Next time I have one of these damned fool attacks, he’ll be here to get me over it.”

“I will miss Penelope,” Jules said to her husband as they got into the carriage. “She has changed so much. Even Chauncey said she was having to revise her opinions. Del just shook his head and said something about every woman being tractable if handled properly.”

“And what did Chauncey say to that?”

“Something about she would take care of him later.”

“I’m certain that she did,” Saint said.

“I’ll miss Thomas too,” said Jules.

“At least I won’t have to worry about clamping my hand over your mouth every night, love.”

She poked him in the ribs. “Do you never think serious thoughts? Elevating thoughts?”

“May

be they’ll return in, say, five years.”

“Or so,” Jules said, tucking her hand through his arm. She gave him a sunny smile even as she felt a sudden surge of guilt over her new derringer. No, she told herself firmly, I shall be very careful this time. She wondered what Penelope would do with hers, and had the inescapable feeling that her sister-in-law would keep it safe, and a secret from Thomas.

She was not at all surprised to see three patients waiting for Saint when they returned home. She was surprised, however, and delighted, when Saint asked her to assist him.

28

It was the middle of the afternoon. Patches of sun came through the bedroom windows, unnoticed by either Saint or Jules.

“That,” Saint said many minutes later when his heart slowed a bit, “should probably be against the law. Debauchery, pure and simple.” Her muscles tightened at his words, and he groaned, kissing her.

Jules wanted to moan and laugh at the sound of the knock downstairs on the front door. “I should be a banker, like Del Saxton,” he said, slowly and very reluctantly pulling away from her. “Given the satisfied smile on Chauncey’s face, I wager they spend many afternoons like this.” He sighed. “I suppose I should count my lucky stars. That knock could have come ten minutes earlier.”