cried,
Oh, Simon, Simon, where are you in this?
As Justina struggled to gather her wits, to focus and recall her purpose, he seized her wild hands, overwhelmed her trembling body, and slid slow and deep to burst her maidenhead.
She cried out, but more in shock at that unique sensation than in pain. As she tried to adjust to the stretched fullness, he moved in her, moved her around him, so that the disintegration threatened again.
She fought it, though. Now was his moment of weakness. This was the moment when she could rip his secrets from his soul.
What naïveté!
Jack Beaufort was certainly overwhelmed by sensation, but he was vulnerable to nothing but his own shattering lust.
When he rolled off her, he gathered her to him, looking at her again with those dangerous eyes. What he saw there killed his sated pleasure. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”
She turned her head away. “Yes.”
He stroked her soothingly. “It only hurts the once.”
Justina stared at the dead pheasants, feeling as pathetic as they. It wasn’t pain she spoke of. She had let him destroy her and gained
nothing.
Not true, whispered a small voice. You have gained a new existence.
Not one I want! I have lost my armor. I have lost the battle and the war and am left naked.
“I wanted you to stop,” she said, making herself rigid in his embrace.
After a moment, he freed her and turned onto his back. “Then it must have been too late, for I was not aware of it. I’m sorry. I can apologize all blasted night if you want, but it won’t change anything.”
“Just as you can’t change the fact that Simon is dead.”
He turned back to her with a frown. “What the devil has Simon to do with this?”
And Justina realized that she had, in a sense, won. A Pyrrhic victory, perhaps, but a victory all the same. They were both stripped down to raw truth. “You killed him,” she said. “You caused his death. You betrayed him. And I came here to prove it.”
She expected him to deny it, to throw up his guard again. She did not expect the naked shock and pain. “How did you know?”
Her heart almost stopped. Why had she not realized this moment would be so painful? “I just knew,” she said, almost gently. “I have always known.”
“The letter? There was something in the letter?”
“No. If there had been, I would have reported it to the authorities.”
“Then how did you know?”
“You were just too lucky. You had to be a traitor.”
He rolled over her then, pinning her down in the bed with his angry body. “A
traitor
? Is that what you think? Then why the devil were you so stupid as to come here tonight?”
She struggled fiercely, uselessly. “Because I could not live with you so fortunate!”
He captured her wrists in one strong hand and placed the other around her throat. “If I were a traitor, I’d strangle you now.”
She swallowed, and felt his pressure there. “Then do it! Do it. I’d rather die than live like this!”
His hand jerked up to cover her mouth. “No. Never that! For Simon’s sake, you will live, Justina. You will live as long as I can make you.”
He made it sound like a curse out of hell.
They stared at one another, and Justina realized tears were escaping to slither down her cheeks. She swallowed the rest of them. She did
not
cry.
But she certainly wasn’t made of ice anymore. For good or ill she was thawed, softened, and opened to pain as subtle and complex as the pleasure he’d shown her.
Then she saw the tears in his eyes and knew that some of her pain was his.
Gently, he released her mouth.
She licked her lips. “What happened?”
He rolled out of the bed. Silently, he picked up a gray banjan that lay on the bench at the end of the bed and shrugged into it. Then he went to a wardrobe to fish out another, this time bright blue, and toss it to her. “Put that on and I’ll tell you what you came here to learn.”
She slid her arms into the soft wool robe, but stayed half under the
Oh, Simon, Simon, where are you in this?
As Justina struggled to gather her wits, to focus and recall her purpose, he seized her wild hands, overwhelmed her trembling body, and slid slow and deep to burst her maidenhead.
She cried out, but more in shock at that unique sensation than in pain. As she tried to adjust to the stretched fullness, he moved in her, moved her around him, so that the disintegration threatened again.
She fought it, though. Now was his moment of weakness. This was the moment when she could rip his secrets from his soul.
What naïveté!
Jack Beaufort was certainly overwhelmed by sensation, but he was vulnerable to nothing but his own shattering lust.
When he rolled off her, he gathered her to him, looking at her again with those dangerous eyes. What he saw there killed his sated pleasure. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”
She turned her head away. “Yes.”
He stroked her soothingly. “It only hurts the once.”
Justina stared at the dead pheasants, feeling as pathetic as they. It wasn’t pain she spoke of. She had let him destroy her and gained
nothing.
Not true, whispered a small voice. You have gained a new existence.
Not one I want! I have lost my armor. I have lost the battle and the war and am left naked.
“I wanted you to stop,” she said, making herself rigid in his embrace.
After a moment, he freed her and turned onto his back. “Then it must have been too late, for I was not aware of it. I’m sorry. I can apologize all blasted night if you want, but it won’t change anything.”
“Just as you can’t change the fact that Simon is dead.”
He turned back to her with a frown. “What the devil has Simon to do with this?”
And Justina realized that she had, in a sense, won. A Pyrrhic victory, perhaps, but a victory all the same. They were both stripped down to raw truth. “You killed him,” she said. “You caused his death. You betrayed him. And I came here to prove it.”
She expected him to deny it, to throw up his guard again. She did not expect the naked shock and pain. “How did you know?”
Her heart almost stopped. Why had she not realized this moment would be so painful? “I just knew,” she said, almost gently. “I have always known.”
“The letter? There was something in the letter?”
“No. If there had been, I would have reported it to the authorities.”
“Then how did you know?”
“You were just too lucky. You had to be a traitor.”
He rolled over her then, pinning her down in the bed with his angry body. “A
traitor
? Is that what you think? Then why the devil were you so stupid as to come here tonight?”
She struggled fiercely, uselessly. “Because I could not live with you so fortunate!”
He captured her wrists in one strong hand and placed the other around her throat. “If I were a traitor, I’d strangle you now.”
She swallowed, and felt his pressure there. “Then do it! Do it. I’d rather die than live like this!”
His hand jerked up to cover her mouth. “No. Never that! For Simon’s sake, you will live, Justina. You will live as long as I can make you.”
He made it sound like a curse out of hell.
They stared at one another, and Justina realized tears were escaping to slither down her cheeks. She swallowed the rest of them. She did
not
cry.
But she certainly wasn’t made of ice anymore. For good or ill she was thawed, softened, and opened to pain as subtle and complex as the pleasure he’d shown her.
Then she saw the tears in his eyes and knew that some of her pain was his.
Gently, he released her mouth.
She licked her lips. “What happened?”
He rolled out of the bed. Silently, he picked up a gray banjan that lay on the bench at the end of the bed and shrugged into it. Then he went to a wardrobe to fish out another, this time bright blue, and toss it to her. “Put that on and I’ll tell you what you came here to learn.”
She slid her arms into the soft wool robe, but stayed half under the
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