Seven Years to Sin(32)

She’d been raised to maintain a certain distance between herself and others. That space had been easily established through her speech and deportment, and most men were swiftly discouraged by lack of progress. Alistair, however, was challenged by her demeanor. He would not allow her to withdraw, which forced her to acknowledge that she didn’t really wish to. She wanted to be right where she was—on an adventure with an infamously wicked man.

And then there were the memories of what he’d done to her body. She’d shared similar intimacies with Tarley, and had had no difficulty facing him over a breakfast table in the morning. With Alistair, she found herself flushing often and without warning, her body heating and softening in welcome just from his proximity. Somehow, his touch seemed more intimate to her than even her own husband’s. How was that possible?

“Did you sleep well last night?” he asked, drawing her attention back to him.

She shook her head.

“That makes two of us.” He stretched out along his side with his head propped in the palm of his hand. He watched her with those brilliant blue eyes that saw too much. Those windows to the soul aged him, revealing a darkness that shouldn’t be there in one still young. “Tell me what happened the other day when you fled from the helm. What were you running from? Me?”

Jess shrugged awkwardly. “There was so much noise and activity. I felt … off balance.”

“Does the lack of hearing in your left ear contribute to that sensation?”

She looked at him with raised brows. In hindsight, she realized he always whispered in her right ear. “You noticed.”

“Michael told me.” His eyes were kind.

It was a topic she would never discuss. She was so violently opposed to even the notion of such a discussion that she resorted to speaking about other topics she wouldn’t have otherwise. “I was not running from you.”

“No?”

“Tarley has been gone only a year.”

The arch of his brow mocked her. “And you honor his memory with chastity? For how long?”

“Exactly twelve months, apparently,” she said dryly.

“You are ashamed of your desire for me. That won’t sway me.”

Ashamed. Was that the right word? It wasn’t shame she felt. Confusion was more apt. She had been raised to live in a particular world under particular rules. An affair with Alistair moved her into an entirely new realm. Remembering his dance analogy, she would say she didn’t know the proper steps and so was stumbling around. She’d been rigorously trained against stumbles and missteps, and found it extraordinarily difficult to forsake those hard-taught lessons.

“An affair isn’t necessary,” she began, “to enjoy sex. It’s certainly possible and respectable—albeit unfashionable—to find pleasure in the marital bed.”

“Are you suggesting we marry?” His tone was dangerously low and sharply edged.

“No!” She winced at the rushed manner with which she’d replied. “I shan’t be marrying again. To anyone.”

“Why not? You enjoyed your first marriage.” Alistair reached for a pear.

“Tarley and I had a rare affinity. He knew what I needed, and I knew what he expected. We were able to blend the two into a harmonious arrangement. It’s highly doubtful I’d be as fortunate again.”

“Meeting expectations is important to you.”

Jess met his gaze. As always, there was something in the way he looked at her that challenged her to be more than who she knew herself to be. Challenged her to speak aloud the thoughts she rarely contemplated even in private. “When expectations are met, there is harmony.”

Alistair’s head tilted, considering. “To value harmony, one has to know disharmony.”

“Can we speak of something else?”

There was a long pause, then, “Whatever you like.” She nibbled at her bread for a few moments, gathering her thoughts. Why did it always seem as if he could see into her? It was unfair when he was a mystery. “Was it your choice to pursue the path of enterprise you follow?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You said your father acquired the plantation and ship for you. I wondered if you requested those things, or if you simply made do with the avenue Masterson provided.”

He looked down at his hand. “I wanted nothing from Masterson, but accepting his largesse meant a great deal to my mother. I suggested sugarcane because I knew it would be profitable and that the distance inherent in the cultivation would be appealing to Masterson. I’ve been a source of displeasure for many years.”

Jess remembered saying something similar to Hester long ago, and felt remorse for the cruel thought. She’d prejudged him by assuming he had no ambition or mind for business. She had dismissed him because of the order of his birth. Also, because she’d bristled at Hester’s admiration. She could admit that now. Although Hester’s praise had been offhand and merely conversational, it had roused envy in Jess and territorial feelings.

“Some fathers mean well when they express affection in harsh ways,” she offered. “Their methods may leave much to be desired, but the intent is laudable.” She didn’t credit such lofty ambitions to her own pater, but that did not signify.

“By what basis would you know?” he challenged softly. “You have always been perfect. I have always been far from it.”