God have mercy, she yearned for it, even, as one would hunger for food or thirst for drink, or even want for sleep. She was consumed by the desire for it. His kiss had somehow awakened some unfamiliar yearning within her, and even when she’d fallen asleep last eve, tossing and turning, it had not fled her. Lord help her, she’d dreamed of him even then.
Seeing the adoring look in her eyes, Christian felt his stomach knot. She seemed to see in him only what she wished to and nothing more.
What might she think if she knew him for what he truly was? If she knew what base thoughts burned through his mind, what sordid desires slithered through his veins?
Christ, the things he wanted to do to her even now as she gazed up at him so worshipfully. He could think of little more than taking her within his arms and initiating her beautiful body into glorious womanhood.
Only, for the first time in his life... there was something more than mere lust that compelled him. And still....
His jaw turned taut, for it was merely a matter of time before she discovered his true nature.
She might as well know it of him now.
This moment.
Before he might be tempted to lay his heart at her mercy. And God save him if that ever came to be, for if he allowed it... she had it within her power to crush him beneath those precious feet of hers.
Suddenly he felt the need to shock her. “What might you think, Jess, if I told you I was bastard born? Would you still look at me with such reverence?” The words had come bluntly, his tone hinting at all that was loathsome about his life.
A vision came upon him of himself as a superstitious peasant warding away evil with a makeshift cross. If it weren’t such a pathetic image, he might have been amused.
Was he so desperate to save himself from the devotion so evident in her beautiful eyes?
Christ... but those eyes had the power to reach so deep into his soul... the power to touch his very heart. Somehow she made him want to be all that she believed of him.
All that he was not.
And more.
He couldn’t hurt her, he realized.
He wouldn’t hurt her.
She looked stricken by the unexpected revelation. “Is it true?” she asked, sounding horrified.
He laughed derisively, casting her a dispassionate glance. “Aye.”
“How—” She shook her head, refusing to believe it. “However did you discover such a thing?”
“It doesn’t matter?”
“Of course it matters!” Her brows drew together. “Your brother might have been lying, don’t you see!”
Christian shook his head soberly, wondering belatedly over the wisdom in telling her such a thing. To reveal this, his darkest secret, was to open a vein for her to draw on. That someone other than himself and his mother—he refused to acknowledge the rest of his family—should possess the knowledge of his bastardy would make him vulnerable as he’d never been before.
“Nay, Jess.”
She seemed dumbstruck, and then sputtered, “Y-Your father?”
He wasn’t certain what it was she was asking. “Maxwell Haukinge?”
“Nay,” she said softly, and looked disconcerted. “Did he know?”
He nodded, understanding. “Ah, well, yes... I believe he did.” Something in her expression compelled him to go on. “And my real father… I believe he would as soon hang himself from the tallest masthead rather than defame my mother’s good name. My captain, you see, is the man who sired me, and loved my mother.”
For a long moment, there was silence between them. When she spoke again there was only concern in her tone, and he was warmed by it. “When did you discover the truth?”
He inhaled sharply. “As a lad. Though I didn’t learn who until about a year ago.” Gazing at her sweet face, he wondered why he felt compelled to drive her away when he craved more than anything the sweet fulfillment he suspected she could give him.
