Tempting Torment Read online

  Jessa stripped to her shift and laid huddled on the window seat covered with blankets. Whether she slept for hours or minutes, she didn't know, but when the noise woke her she stayed very still and waited. Intuitively she knew who had caused it. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, and she saw Noah pass in front of the dimly lit hearth. He was dressed except for his riding boots, which he carried in one hand. Jessa realized he must have dropped one and that's what had woken her. Through lowered lashes she watched him cross to the door and open it gingerly. Jessa had too much pride to stop him. She wanted to tell him he could have made all the noise he wished and it wouldn't matter to her. She wouldn't hold him back or even beg him to stay.

  Nothing she could have said would have made any difference. He was gone.

  Jessa buried her face in the crook of her arm and cried.

  * * *

  "Dammit, Drew!" Noah cried out. "Have a care, will you? That bandage was sticking to my skin! Look, it's bleeding again!"

  Drew Goodfellow snorted derisively as he tossed the bloodstained linen away and folded a fresh bandage for Noah's wound. His arthritic hands made his movements awkward, but he had patience and persistence and those qualities stood him fast. "I've a mind to send ye back to the widow," he said quellingly. "Let 'er take care of ye. There's nothing in me arrangement with yer brother-in-law that says I 'ave to play nursemaid. I look after things 'ere at Stanhope for Rae and Jericho and I ain't 'ad no complaints yet."

  Noah's head fell back on his pillow and he closed his eyes briefly, rubbing the lids with his thumb and forefinger. He had abused the estate manager's kindness sorely in recent days but there was no one else he could turn to or trust. "Sorry."

  "What?"

  The corners of Noah's mouth lifted in a reluctant, halfhearted smile. "You heard me perfectly well, you sly fox. There's nothing wrong with your ears." The grin faded as he opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Jessa's face was there. The pale gray eyes haunted him and he hated her for it. Her image robbed him of sleep at night and peace of mind during the day. The more he tried to banish her from his thoughts the more her ethereal presence overwhelmed him. "What she did to me was unconscionable," he rapped out.

  Drew's forehead became more deeply creased as he listened. He didn't have to ask what Noah was talking about. He had heard the whole of it nearly a week ago when Noah arrived at Stanhope in the middle of the night. Since then, at odd moments, Noah continued the conversation he had begun, picking up on the last thought he had uttered aloud. Drew wisely understood that Noah was not looking for answers from him so he kept his counsel accordingly. It seemed to Drew that part of learning to talk was learning when not to. He made some encouraging murmurs under his breath and concentrated on applying the new bandage.

  "The hell of it is, Drew, she's got no one to help her."

  "Hmm."

  "But why me? I made a decision to protect her on that coach, but surely that was just simple human decency. Look how she repays me! God, what a coil. I need to have my mind clear. I'm supposed to be thinking about the upcoming convention in Philadelphia. That's what I have waiting for me when I return. A chance to shape a government! The last thing I need is this woman and her child dogging my footsteps and forever damaging my political career!"

  "That's understandable," Drew said agreeably.

  Noah sighed. "You know, if she were alone in this I'd not be having these second thoughts. There'd be no question but that I'd leave her here. Who would know? I wouldn't have to tell my family, or God forbid, Hilary. I could go on with my life and pretend this never happened."

  "You could do that," Drew said noncommittally.

  "If only it were so easy," Noah said, contradicting himself. "What about Gideon? How can I forget about him? I pity him, Drew. What kind of life will he know with that woman for a mother?" Noah paused as Jessa's face shimmered out of focus for a moment. It grated on his nerves that he had no difficulty calling it back. "The thing is, she loves her son," he said, his voice dropping to a mere whisper. "Whatever else there is to be said about that deceitful little wretch, it's clear she cares about him."

  "There's that."

  "Yes, but it doesn't give her the right to make a ruin of my life!" Noah massaged his forehead, trying to ease the pressure that was building behind his eyes. "Did I tell you she has the face of an angel?" He didn't wait for Drew to respond. "She does. It's hard to credit that anyone who looks so innocent could be so cunning. I'll never be able to turn my back on her, Drew." He pulled the covers up to his chest when Drew finished dressing the wound. "She'd stab me as soon as look at me."

  "Aye, ye'd 'ave to be cautious."

  "No," he said firmly, changing his mind again. "No, I don't. Because I don't have to take her with me. I don't have to take her son."

  "No, you don't."

  "And even if I did," Noah went on, switching course once more. "I wouldn't have to live with them when we arrived in America. I can have the marriage annulled there. She suggested that herself. I could settle her with a little money just so she wouldn't be a recurring nightmare in my life and then I could wash my hands of her."

  "Wash 'em clean," Drew agreed moving away from the bed. He turned his head so Noah couldn't see the smile that was playing at the edges of his mouth.

  Noah held up his hands and slowly turned them, studying them from all angles. Finally he intertwined his fingers and slipped the cradle of his hands behind his head. The tension in his temples eased slightly. "There's no reason I can't take her and the boy to America. Where would be the harm?"

  "Where indeed?"

  "And there's no reason I shouldn't enjoy myself on the voyage."

  Drew frowned and his fingers stiffened on the wad of bandages he held. "Oh?"

  "Certainly." Noah's half-grin was smug. "I might pity her, Drew, for the circumstances that led her to me, but that's not going to sustain my generosity for six tedious weeks on the Atlantic. If I'm going to wash my hands of her anyway, there's no reason to keep them entirely to myself, is there?"

  Chapter 4

  April, 1787

  "Oh, Gideon! Look! A flower." Jessa hunkered down and tilted Gideon forward so he could view the tiny yellow bud closely. "This is the first flower of spring. See? Isn't it pretty?"

  Gideon babbled appreciatively and tried to swipe at it.

  Jessa pulled him back. "No! You mustn't pick it. No one else can enjoy it then. If the sun stays out it will spread its petals." His arms flew wide. "Yes, just like that. Do you think you're a flower, young man? Is that what you want to be? It will never do, of course."

  Gideon lost interest in the flower and wrapped his fingers around Jessa's thick braid. He pulled on it so hard that Jessa's head was forced down. She unwound his fingers and trapped them beneath her hand.

  "You're not very kind," she said with mock severity. "Come on, let's go inside. We've seen the horse and the cow and the chickens. The hens didn't like you much, did they? That's because you laugh at them."

  Jessa stepped inside the cottage. Mary was ladling soup into three bowls. "Look! Mary has our supper ready. Isn't that lucky? See? It's a good thing we came in."

  Mary shook her head. "Do ye 'ave any idea 'ow silly ye sound always chatterin' away at 'im?"

  Jessa was not in the least offended. "Nonsense. Gideon enjoys these conversations." She fit a cloth around Gideon's chest and sat down with him on her lap. "It finally feels like spring is truly coming, Mary. Gideon and I found a flower bud at the corner of the cottage."

  "So I 'eard."

  Jessa laughed as she spooned soup into Gideon's yawning mouth. His expression reminded her of an unfledged bird. "We did rather make a fuss over it. But it's the first that he's ever seen. I thought the occasion demanded a little fuss."

  Mary set her spoon down hard."'Ow can ye be so cheerful?" she demanded. "I promised meself I wouldn't bring it up again, but then I was never one to keep me mouth shut. It's been nearly three weeks, Miss Jessa! Are ye really not goin' to go
after 'im?"

  "I've already told you I'm not." Jessa said calmly. "He's probably on his way to America by now." She blew on another spoonful of the mushroom soup and slipped it to Gideon. "I think it's safe to assume that he's done nothing to give me up to the authorities. That was the only thing with which we had to concern ourselves. Let it rest, Mary. I have."

  "Humph." Mary began eating, though she was so angry she couldn't have said what she was tasting.

  "I know Davey left here early this morning," Jessa said, changing the subject. "Where did he go?" Mary's husband had returned one week after Noah's departure. The search for the highwaymen had cooled considerably, and Hank, Will, and Davey decided amongst themselves that it was safe to come home.

  "'E went to 'elp Will mend 'is wagon. The axle's broken."

  "That was nice of him."

  Mary said nothing.

  Jessa sighed. "How long are you going to be angry about my decision? Because if it's longer than two more minutes, I'm taking Gideon and we're going to Sarah's for the day."

  "Jessa." Mary's eyes and voice pleaded.

  "It's done, Mary. He doesn't want us!"

  Startled by Jessa's sharpness, Gideon slapped at the table and upset his bowl. The soup made a puddle on the table and dribbled to the floor.

  "Damn!" Jessa swore. She pulled off Gideon's bib and began to mop up the mess, checking the baby's dimpled hands at the same time to make certain he wasn't scalded. When she realized he wasn't hurt she gave her frustration full expression. "Damn, damn, damn!"

  "Damn!" Gideon mimicked loudly. "Damn! Damn!"

  The tension between Mary and Jessa vanished as they exchanged surprised looks. They didn't know who started laughing first or who was the first to cry. But they laughed and cried and laughed again, and Gideon waved his arms gaily and repeated his wonderful new word.

  It was the knocking at the front door that sobered them.

  "You get it, Jess," Mary said, wiping her eyes. "I'll clean up this mess."

  Jessa peeked out the window before she went to the door. There was an open carriage at the end of the walk and no driver. The horse had been tethered to the blistered fence. She recognized neither the carriage nor the bay mare. Uneasiness held her motionless for a moment. She needed to be reminded by Mary to see to the door.

  The stooped-shouldered man on the other side of the door bore no resemblance to Noah McClellan. His inquiring eyes were deeply crinkled at the corners. The lines in his face were mute witness to his advancing years. The hands that rested on his walking stick were gnarled grotesquely by arthritis. "Ye be Mrs. McClellan?" he asked without preamble. His eyes fell to the baby in Jessa's arms. "Course ye must be. The face of an angel, that's what he said. And this be Gideon." He reached in his pocket and brought out a small, brightly colored cloth ball, which he placed in the baby's dimpled hands. Gideon clutched it and tried to jam it in his mouth. "Knew he'd like it. Just the thing for a babe his age." He raised his eyes to Jessa who was staring open-mouthed at him. "May I come in?" he asked. When Jessa didn't move, he added. "M'name's Drew Goodfellow. I come from Stanhope."

  Jessa's heart thumped madly as she stepped aside. "Please. Come in."

  Drew Goodfellow leaned heavily on his cane as he entered the cottage.

  "May I take your cloak?"

  He shook his head, glancing around the cottage. "Thank ye, but no. I'm most always cold these days. Rheumatism, don't ye know." He stared at Mary who had not recovered her manners and stared right back. "Ye be Davey Shaw's wife?"

  "Y-yes," she stammered.

  He nodded. "Davey did good by himself, then. You're a fine lookin' woman."

  Mary blinked, not knowing whether to be flattered or wary. "Do ye know Davey?"

  "Knew his father better. Smuggled a bit in my day."

  That piece of information decided Mary. She blushed becomingly and smoothed her fiery hair. "Please, won't ye 'ave a seat." She pulled a chair close to the fire. "We were 'aving a bit o' soup. Would ye like some?"

  Drew took the seat but declined the soup. "I don't dare be long." He turned his attention to Jessa. "Mr. McClellan says I was to fetch you right away."

  "Fetch me!" Jessa regarded him indignantly.

  Mary clapped her hands and practically danced across the room to Jessa's side. "Oh, this is wonderful! Do ye 'ear, Miss Jessa. 'E's sent for ye! The guvnor's sent for ye!"

  "But..."

  Mary placed her hands on Jessa's shoulders and gave her a firm shake. "Don't ye dare be thinkin' twice about this! If 'e wants ye, ye should go and be thankful for it!"

  "But..."

  Drew interrupted. "Mary's right, Mrs. McClellan. The Clarion leaves London in a few hours."

  "In a few hours!" Jessa protested. "But I can't leave that quickly!"

  "And why ever not?" Mary demanded. "It's not as if ye have a wealth of things to pack."

  Jessa turned to Drew. "Would you mind, Mr. Goodfellow, if I discussed a few things with Mary in private?" Without waiting for an answer she marched into the bedchamber, pulling Mary with her. As soon as the door was closed she rounded on her friend. "Mary! You're not thinking! How am I to feed Gideon on the voyage?"

  "He's almost weaned," Mary said practically.

  "But he still needs milk! How am I to get that in the middle of an ocean?"

  "I'm sure Noah's thought of that. 'E wouldn't have agreed to take ye if 'e 'adn't made provisions for Gideon. Now, are ye goin' or not?"

  "I don't want to leave you, Mary."

  Mary set her jaw stubbornly. "That's a damn fool thing to say. Are ye thinkin' of the child at all? What kind of life is there for 'im 'ere? 'E's quality, just like yer quality. It's no use pretendin' you belong 'ere with Davey and me. We know it, even if ye don't. This life suits me and Davey just fine, but it ain't for ye. There's rivers what run through our lives, Lady Jessa. D'ye 'ear me? I can call ye that now. Ye be Lady Jessa and ye be knowin' that river can't be bridged no matter 'ow much we may wish it otherwise. It's a lady you are and the young one's a proper lord. That may not be important where ye be goin', but it's everything 'ere!"

  During Mary's speech Jessa had been steadily retreating toward the bed. Now the back of her knees bumped into it and she sat down heavily. "All right," she said at last. "We'll go."

  Mary blinked back tears and the urge to hug her friend and told Jessa to wait with Drew. "I'll pack yer things. It won't take but a minute."

  Jessa was pacing the floor with Gideon when Mary dragged out the trunk. Drew hobbled over to help her with it.

  "I can manage," said Mary. "It's not very heavy."

  "I'm not helpless," Drew said. He picked up the trunk's other strap. "Just go easy and we'll not have a problem."

  "It seems we can't leave quickly enough," Jessa told Gideon once they were alone. She laid him on the window seat and wrapped him in his blanket, then got her traveling cloak and drew it across her shoulders. The black mourning gown she was wearing was as serviceable as anything she owned. In any case, she thought dully, it would have to do because the only other dresses she had had already been loaded in the carriage. She scooped Gideon from the bench and left the cottage without a second glance, afraid she wouldn't leave at all if she dwelled on it. "I need my bonnet, Mary. Is it in the trunk?"

  "That black one?"

  "It's the only one I have," Jessa reminded her.

  "But it's such a beautiful day. Why don't ye—"

  "Please, get it for me."

  Mary looked at Jessa's pale face and quivering lower lip. She knew what it was costing Jessa to remain poised. She opened the trunk and took out the bonnet. "'Ere it is. Not even crushed."

  Drew turned in his seat and glanced at the stiff bonnet. "It would take a hammer to crush that thing."

  Jessa smiled weakly and set Gideon on one of the plush carriage seats while she fastened the bonnet. She sat beside him. Grasping Mary's hand, she squeezed it. "Say good-bye to Davey for me. You'll thank everyone, won't you?" she asked earnestly. "Please tell
them how much I appreciate everything they've done."

  Mary hugged Jessa tightly. "Of course I will. Ye'll write sometimes, won't you?"

  Jessa's laugh was tense. "You don't know how to read, Mary."

  "That doesn't matter. I'll find someone to read it for me. Davey knows a little."

  "Then I'll write."

  Mary released her. "Good." She picked up Gideon and kissed both his downy cheeks. "You do right by yer mama, young man," she told him with feigned sternness. "There's no one what loves ye better than she." She gave him to Jessa then jumped out of the carriage. Her face was streaked with tears. Jessa and Gideon were both a blur. "Go on with ye!"

  Drew applied his whip to the horse and the carriage jolted forward.

  "I'll want to know all about the baby!" Jessa called.

  Mary couldn't speak. She nodded jerkily and raised her hand, waving them off. She kept waving even after the carriage disappeared around the bend in the lane.

  * * *

  To keep her mind off her impending meeting with Noah, Jessa talked to Gideon. She pointed out hickories, oaks, and pines all along the road. Occasionally there was a thatched cottage in a clearing, and Jessa made up stories for him about the people who lived there. When Gideon napped, put to sleep by the gentle swaying of the carriage and by Jessa's lilting voice, she counted sheep and cows to amuse herself and to keep her thoughts from wandering to Noah. The sun shone warmly on the back of her hands. Jessa lifted her head and let the redolent spring air bathe her face.

  "Why are we stopping here?" she asked when Drew Goodfellow directed the carriage to the Rose and Crown Inn. "We're still ten miles from London."

  He turned his head and looked down at her. "Aye. We be that."

  Jessa continued to stare at him expectantly, waiting for an explanation. When she saw his eyes dart to the door of the inn she followed the direction of his gaze and watched Noah McClellan stride across the yard toward them. He moved exactly as she remembered—gracefully, confidently. He was wearing fawn breeches, which closely contoured the length of his legs. His dark blue jacket was unbuttoned. It parted as he walked to reveal the white linen shirt and fawn vest he wore beneath it. In one hand he carried a basket. His manner was unhurried, his posture relaxed. He was smiling. "I thought he would be waiting at the ship," Jessa whispered frantically, trying to catch Drew's eye.