Because he’d needed her.
The admission tormented him.
Stirring at last, Jean Paul groaned, and Christian turned as his father opened weary blue eyes to the morning light.
Behind him, Jessie roused at once; he was painfully aware of her every move, every gesture and sound. She hurried to Jean Paul’s side, ignoring him—or perhaps she did not see him—turning the full impact of her stunning emerald gaze upon his father instead.
“Mon Dieu...un ange,” Jean Paul murmured weakly. He blinked at Jessie, his eyes glassy with fever. “I am gone to heaven,ma petite cherie, yes?”
“You’ve been ill,” Jessie whispered, smiling sweetly down at him. She touched his brow and Christian shuddered. He found himself envying his father, as well; he couldn’t help himself.
“I thought you were on your deathbed, old man.”
Jean Paul turned to face him. “I’m much too stubborn to die, you realize.”
Christian flashed him a grin.
“Who is this divineange, Hawk?”
Jean Paul seized Jessie’s hand, squeezing it. She snatched it away at once, so startled was she by the name he’d spoken.
Christian stiffened.
As she turned slowly toward him, he saw that her expression was one of shock and horror, and he braced himself for her anger.
“Nay!” she whispered, her face twisting. “It cannot be!”
Her gaze reverted to Jean Paul. Jean Paul wore a guarded expression now, his eyes shifting uneasily from her to Christian and then to Ben, who was now awake, watching. Jessie met Ben’s gaze then, her eyes searching his face for confirmation. And then her eyes narrowed as her gaze returned to Christian. She glared at him.
“What did you call him?” she asked Jean Paul, though her gaze never wavered from Christian’s.
“Not a bloody damned thing!” Christian thundered. Shoving away from the doorframe, he eyed Jean Paul wrathfully.
Jessie stood. “Well! No need to repeat yourself, sirrah,” she said with a glower for Jean Paul. “I believe I heard well enough the first time!” Her gaze met Christian’s. “Hawk!” she spat, as though the word were an oath. “I cannot believe I have been so dull-witted!” She spun about, going to the port window to gaze out into the harbor. “Good God, I should have known!” she whispered furiously, casting a wounded glance back at them.
For a long instant she was silent, and Christian hung his head back and closed his eyes.
She turned to the window.
Before her, the ocean was a blanket of molten silver beneath the cloudy heavens; Charlestown no more than a blur on the misty horizon—as were her emotions, for she couldn’t seem to feel them. “And Ben?” Jessie asked. “How long have you known?”
“From the first. I’m not sorry for it, coz.”
For a long moment, Jessie couldn’t bring herself to face them, much less respond to Ben’s confession. How well she understood, for she herself had tried in vain to feel regret for all that had passed between her and Christian.
Hawk.
The loathsome appellation twisted her heart, filled her with confusion and anger.
Fear.
Another lie.
She shook her head, the ache in her heart growing tangible now. How very, very, very stupid she’d been. She let her forehead strike against the pane and gave a wounded little laugh. She spun to face them abruptly.
“Of course you wouldn’t be, Ben,” she yielded bitterly. “He has a certain cunning about him, does he not?” She eyed Christian coldly. “The ability to twist a person’s mind until that person sees him as all that is noble and good!”
She laughed derisively, though it was directed more at herself—for her stupidity and blind devotion. She gave a small cry of despair and said, “What a travesty of a man you are, Hawk! I—” Her voice broke. “God help me—I despise you!” Herself, as well! What an undeniable fool she was, for even now she wanted to fling herself into his arms, beg him to love her. God’s truth, if he only halfheartedly denied everything, she would believe in him even now... because fool that she was, she wanted to trust in him still... wanted to love him still.
