Don't Tempt Me (14 page)

She pulled back before he could act. Just as well, he thought with a sigh. One kiss would invariably lead to another. "Come on, let's get you warm and dry and I'll make you something hot to eat."

Chapter 11

Jackie spent the rest of the day and most of the next reading the diaries word for word ---refusing to skim any of it. Sitting against a pile of pillows in what she'd come to think of as the "Princess Bed," she struggled to focus on the page before her, but her eyes stubbornly drifted shut. She didn't want to stop, though, since the entry in front of her had started with the words "Last night, Captain Kingsley came to my bed, and I confess without an ounce of regret that I welcomed him."

About time,
Jackie thought. Sheesh, all her life she'd heard about this great love affair between Captain Kingsley and Marguerite, but in truth their relationship had been completely platonic for five extremely long years. Jackie didn't know how they'd resisted each other that long. Marguerite had been captivated by the man since the night they met, drawn to him physically and emotionally. And the way she described how Jack would look at her, "as if his entire being yearns to be a part of mine, to share a pleasure we both know is forbidden. Neither of us speaks of our desire, but in my mind I have loved him a thousand times."

How did a woman resist someone she wanted that much? Especially since Jack Kingsley had been one hot hunk. But fear of Henri kept Marguerite in a constant state of walking on eggshells. She and Henri had formed a fragile compromise after the birth of their daughter, and Marguerite stopped trying to escape. She even pretended for the sake of appearances that their marriage was a happy one as long as Henri went elsewhere for sex. That didn't stop him from beating her, though, for any imagined transgression. Discovering her with a lover would have been a huge transgression. Marguerite might have chanced a beating, she wanted Jack that badly, but she feared Henri would kill Jack.

She also made sure Jack didn't know the true horror of her marriage for fear of what Jack would do. Not that she had much of a chance to tell him. Whenever he came to the house to do business with Henri, he'd stay for dinner and they'd go for walks along the beach or to the music room where she'd sing for him. Henri would always hover nearby, smirking at her when Jack wasn't looking. The bastard knew perfectly well that Captain Kingsley coveted his wife, and he enjoyed dangling her before him.

But now, finally, they were going to do something about the attraction that had been sizzling between them since they met. Jackie tried again to focus on the page, but the words blurred. Maybe if she closed her eyes for just a few minutes ...

Slumping down, she tipped her head against the pillows and let the diary drop open on her lap. She had the rest of the afternoon to read, so she didn't have to finish it right this second. But she did need to finish all the diaries quickly since the test results for her letter could come in any second. Once the results were in, they'd be back to meeting with the Historical Society about the excavation. If Carl Ryder decided to make more trouble and derail the project, she'd just as soon head back to Corpus Christi as quickly as possible.

Adrian may have assured her his sisters wouldn't care about her past, but if that past ruined their chance to recover the necklace, she didn't think she could handle doing business with them.

With a yawn, she slid down farther as her mind drifted back to thoughts of Marguerite. The woman's struggle to get through every day without giving in to despair touched a chord inside her. Marguerite had managed by concentrating on the good things in her life: her beautiful daughter and her friendship with Jack.

Jackie made the drowsy decision to follow that example and focus on her own blessings as she sank into sleep.

On the edge of her consciousness, she heard a window in the sitting room rattle. She opened her eyes to find the room shrouded in darkness. When had night fallen? The noise came again, like knocking. With her mind sluggish from sleep, she pushed the heavy bedspread aside. Except she hadn't been beneath the covers, she thought as she stood and looked around. The room wavered before her, as if she were drunk. On a chair beside the bed, she saw a forest-green robe trimmed in cascading lace. She reached for it, mindlessly pulling it on over a creamy satin nightgown she didn't even recognize, much less remember donning.

The glass pane rattled again, and she turned with a start. Past the heavy swagged curtains framing the windows, silver clouds moved across the ink-black sky. Then the clouds parted and she saw a man standing on the balcony, silhouetted by the faint light of the moon. Her mind whirled dizzily, making her stagger, then it cleared with a snap.

And she knew in that instant who stood outside. He'd sent word to Henri earlier, requesting a meeting. She'd waited breathlessly all day, praying he would come to the house, but Henri had arranged to meet him at a tavern in town.

Joy and fear filled her heart as she hurried for the door to the balcony, opening it silently. He slipped inside with a gust of night breeze, closing the door behind him.

"Jacques ..." she whispered, her French accent caressing the name. She ached to touch him but feared he'd vanish like a dream upon waking. He looked more shadow than reality, dressed all in black, his dark hair loose about his shoulders. "What are you doing here? Henri ---"

"Is still in town," he assured her, his voice as hushed as hers. "Or I would not have come. I had to see you, though. To tell you ... good-bye."

"Good-bye?" Her heart clenched. "What do you mean?"

"I won't be coming back to Pearl Island. That's why I asked to see Henri, to tell him I'll not carry cargo for him anymore."

"Because of the Yankee blockade? I've been so worried for you. How did you get through it?"

"Quite easily, I assure you." She saw the flash of his smile and remembered the wicked delight he took in danger. "And it's something I plan to do again."

"But you said you'd not carry any more cargo."

"Not for Henri. Come sit and I'll tell you." He took her hand and led her to the divan. Moonlight fell over them, revealing the excitement in his dark eyes as he sat beside her. "I know you dreaded this war, but it has given me an opportunity I cannot let pass. Every port in the south is blockaded and planters can't get their cotton to the textile mills in England."

"
Oui
, I know. They have been shipping it by rail here to Galveston for months. Henri's warehouses, they are making a fortune while he searches for captains to brave the blockades."

"He is not the only one. All the shipping companies are desperate. Enough so, they are even willing to hire me."

"I do not understand. Are you saying they would not before?"

"Marguerite ..." He searched her eyes, then dropped his gaze. "There are things you don't know about me, things I'm loath to tell you. Suffice it to say, my reputation among honest businessmen is somewhat tarnished."

"Because you are a smuggler."

His gaze shot back to her in surprise.

"I have been married to Henri all these years. Do you think I do not know he ships illegal goods?" Resentment burned inside her. "He might have the people of Galveston convinced he is a paragon of moral virtue, but I know the truth of what goes on in his office when he closes the door."

"You've known all along I was a smuggler? Yet you have welcomed my friendship?"

Her anger softened at the look he gave her. Beneath the arrogance and swagger was a man who deeply needed the absolution of true acceptance. "
Oui
, I have known."

"I assure you, it has not been by choice. I was raised into it." Bitterness hardened his face. "When I was old enough to captain my own ship, I vowed I would do so legally. Unfortunately, honest tradesmen refused to trust me, since they had been cheated too many times by my father. And by me when I sailed with him. So I work for Henri and others like him. But now I have a chance to gain people's trust." He took both her hands in his."This means more to me than I can say. I have few things in this life I am proud of, but I can change that for myself and for Andrew."

"Your son?"

He nodded. "I want him to be proud to be a Kingsley, not secretly ashamed as I have been. If I can do this, if I can help the South win this war, then stay honest when it's over, everything will be different from this point on."

"Which means not working for Henri." Despair tore through her at the thought of not seeing him. "Could you not carry legal goods for him?"

"Perhaps. Except ... there is another reason I can no longer work for him."

"What is it?"

He hesitated, searching her eyes. "Marguerite, I ... I simply cannot. For reasons that are best not spoken out loud."

"You come to say you are leaving, that I shall never see you again, but you will not tell me why? How can you do this? You know how unhappy I have been since coming here, how no one in Galveston accepts me. You are, in truth, the only friend I have, and now you would leave me?"

"I tell you, I must!"

"But why?"

He stood abruptly and moved away, stopping before one of the windows to stare out at the night. Her hands felt cold without him holding them. "Sweet God, I swore I wouldn't tell you this, but ..." He pressed a hand to his forehead, hiding his face. "I cannot keep working for a man when I'm in love with his wife."

Her heart stopped, then resumed with such strength, she felt every beat. "You love me?"

He let out a dry laugh, turning back to her. "More than life, apparently, for I die a little every time I am with you, knowing I cannot have you. I value our friendship, but I also hate it, for I know that is all I will ever have from you. All you can give me."

She sat very still, afraid of what was happening. Words such as these would change things between them forever, if she managed to see him again. But she had kept her love for him trapped in silence too long. She stood and faced him, her body trembling. "You are wrong. I may belong to another by law, but my heart is mine alone to give. And I have given it to you so many times ..." Her throat closed as tears filled her eyes. "Every time I see your face or think your name, I give my heart to you."

He stood staring at her. Then both of them moved at once and she was in his arms, their bodies crushed together. Their mouths met hungrily. She hardly dared to believe it was real, for she had dreamed it so many times, but the hard press of his body against her, the feel of his hands on her back, the taste of his mouth, were too real to deny.

She clung to him, kissing him with five years of pent-up passion. He swept her into his arms and strode toward the bed ---

Someone knocked at the door. "Hey, Jackie!"

She plunged straight down into darkness and woke with a jolt. Jerking upright, she found herself sitting on the bed. Afternoon sunlight stabbed at her eyes.
What the hell?
She glanced down and saw she wore her cutoff shorts and baggy sweatshirt, not a green robe over sleek satin. Apparently, she'd fallen asleep and had had one doozy of a dream. The arousal, however, was certainly real.

"Jackie, you decent?" Adrian called through the door.

"Hang on," she groused. Could he not have waited ten more minutes to wake her so the dream could have run its course? She marched to the door and jerked it open. "What is it?"

He blinked at her surly tone, then laughed, his usual chipper self. "Did I interrupt something?"

Had he ever!
 she thought. "I was taking a nap."

"Are you always this grouchy when you wake up?"

"I am when someone wakes me up in the middle of a really great dream."

"Oh, yeah?" His gorgeous blue eyes lit with interest. "Was I in it?"

A laugh escaped her. He was so irrepressibly ...
him!
"
No, that would be in your dreams," she teased, then rubbed her forehead, trying to think. The dream man had looked a little like him: same height, broad shoulders, long black hair, but there the similarity stopped. The features had been stronger, more chiseled, less perfect. Where had all those details come from? If she were going to have an erotic dream ---which it would have been if he hadn't woken her ---it made more sense for Adrian to star as the lover.

Especially dressed like that! she thought when she dropped her hand and saw his buccaneer costume. Or maybe she was still dreaming and things were about to get really kinky. "Why are you wearing that?"

"I was down on the Strand handing out fliers about the Haunted House Lunch Run. The outfit helps sell tickets." He stepped into the room, holding his arms out to show off the red captain's jacket, loose white shirt, and black pants that hugged his thighs before disappearing into tall black jackboots. She'd seen the outfit before, the night of the Buccaneer's Ball, but wow, memory did not do it justice. "You like it?" he asked with a grin.

"Doesn't do a thing for me."

"Liar." His eyes twinkled wickedly.

She tried to keep her expression bland, but humor tugged at her mouth, giving her away. "Is there a reason you woke me?"

"There is." His grin got even broader. "I ran into Carl Ryder as he came out of the Visitors' Center."