Chapter twenty-two.
I want to thank everyone for their continued love and support with this story. I have stopped writing lately and i know people want it updated and finished so I am sorry and do apologise! I have started writing again, I am still 100% as much in love with this and I was the day I started writing it. This is a shorter chapter, a little filler if you will for when I start properly again.
Thank you for the support and stay tuned!
"I want to see where you're taking me."
"No," Jack whispered in her ear, steadying her with his hands on her shoulders. She ignored the tingle which started at the base of her neck and went right the way down her spine just from his single touch. Her body responded to his in a way which she never wanted to.
"It would not be a surprise if you knew."
"I'm not fond of surprises," Rose complained.
"Well, you will have to become accustomed, sweet, because I am full of them." She snorted and he laughed, his heart as light as the afternoon breeze. The entire mood was different to the ones of late, which late at night in their rooms, they would pine and think of the other. It was hard to fight, to mask such a passionate pull for another person who was loved so deeply.
"Ah, love. Much as you wish it weren't so, you adore me."
Her lush mouth curved in a smile, the ends of her lips touching the underside of the blindfold that blocked her vision. "Your conceit knows no bounds."
She shrieked as he hefted her into the air, and then sank to his knees. He set her down on the blanket he'd spread earlier and removed her blindfold, watching expectantly as she blinked against the sudden bright light. With the help of the duke's staff, he'd arranged a picnic, selecting a field of wild grass just over the rise from the main manor. She'd been unnaturally tense since their talk on the beach yesterday morning and he knew something unexpected was warranted if he wished to make headway.
"This is lovely," she exclaimed, her eyes wide and filled with pleasure. Sans the assistance of an abigail and unwilling to let him help her dress, Rose was forced to attire herself in a startlingly simple gown. With her hair uncoiffed and tied back from her face, there was nothing to compete with the singular beauty of her features. Basking in the glow of her surprise, Jack silently agreed with her sentiment. Rose was breath-taking, her fine features lovingly shielded by the wide brim of her straw hat. Smiling, he reached into the basket and withdrew a bottle of wine. He filled a glass and handed it to her, the touch of her fingers against his sending a frisson of awareness up his spine. It wasn't unnoticed by either of them but still, they both seemed to focus on the task at hand.
''I'm pleased you approve," he murmured. "It's only my second attempt at formal courtship." His gaze lifted to hers. "I'm a bit nervous, truth be told."
"You?" She arched a brow.
"Yes, love." Jack lay on his back and stared up at the summer sky. "It's distressing to think I may be refused. I was more confident the first time around."
Rose laughed, a soft joyful sound that brought a smile to his face. "You shall find another, far more suitable candidate. A young woman who will worship your remarkable handsomeness and charm, and be far more biddable."
"I would never marry a woman such as you describe. I much prefer passionate, uneven-tempered seductresses like yourself."
"I am not a seductress!" she protested, and he laughed with delight.
"You certainly were the other evening. The way you arched your brow and bit your lip. I vow, I've never seen anything as seductive. And the way you look when you—"
"Tell me about your family," she interrupted, her cheeks flushing, not needing reminders of just what had transpired between them of late. This had to be a fresh start. "How faired your brother of last?"
He glanced sidelong at her, relishing the view of her against the natural backdrop, freed from the constraints of society. The tall grass around them flowed like waves of water in the gentle breeze, filling the air with the scent of warm earth and salty sea. It was a lovely day to be courting out here.
"They are well. He enquires of you.''
"Does he? I am surprised, but pleased that he doesn't resent me overmuch. He should venture out more. Society had taken notice of his retirement from a public gaze as of late.''
"Will has retracted for a week or so. And his mother has to order new gowns every Season, and refuses to be seen until they are finished." His grin was pitiful. "Heaven forbid that she be seen in a gown from last year."
She smiled. ''My Mother is quite the same. Although, from what I hear of the woman, my own Mother is not half as bad. One never thought I would say such a thing. Fashion and my Mother go hand in hand.''
He reached for her hand and linked his fingers with hers, needing the physical connection. It was as though it wasn't enough to sit beside her. He felt cold and empty without just the slightest contact with her. To go from holding her so closely every second to barely a single touch was painful. She went to resist but he held fast and tight. Parts of her fought the other; an inward battle which she felt strongly about at the moment, but over time she knew that she could be worn down and it was that much she feared.
She wrinkled her nose. "You seem quite confident in your ability to win my hand."
"I cannot think otherwise. I had it once and I will so again. Now tell me you wrote your mother about your location."
"Yes, of course. She would be frantic, and unbearable company for Lord Wellington if I had not." They lapsed into silence and Jack enjoyed their rare accord, content to experience the daylight hours with her. It was better that they did, for after dark, either one of them seemed to throw caution to the wind when the passion consumed both and though resisting temptation was hard, it was true that they both needed to have a straight head if they were to continue to fight their own battles both together and apart.
"What are you contemplating so seriously?" he asked after a time.
"My mother." She sighed. He sensed that she could have lied about what was in that mind of hers but he went along with her tale, happy to just be with her in that moment. "She says we loved the coast. We used to visit here often and play in the sand. She tells stories of her lifting the hem of her skirts and dancing across the beach with my father."
"You don't remember?" Her fingers tightened fractionally on his and lifting her glass, she took a large swallow of wine. Her gaze moved to the distant cliffs and her voice, when it came, was soft and faraway.
"Sometimes I think I recall her scent or the tone of her voice as she was once so young and carefree, but I cannot be certain."
"I'm sorry," he soothed, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand. He felt she needed the comfort. She sighed. ''I barely recall my mother; it feels as though I have lived a thousand lives since she lived and yet her passing was not at all long ago. My uncle, too. If only they could see just what had become of me. My Father on the other hand, he seems to be just a figure of my imagination.''
"Perhaps it's for the best that he's only a fleeting impression.''
''William remembers our father, and it saddens him. He remembers it all from birth to the demise."
There it was; the vulnerability within a grown man which not many would bear witness to. It pulled at her, she felt the consummation of his misery and it was that which had ensured her to thoroughly fall for the man to start with. It hadn't been the physical intensity of his stare but also just how, beneath the harsh exterior, the stark contrasts of his inner most thoughts which had attracted her to him.
''I have very little thoughts of my own father. Perhaps I struggle to remember the parts of him which were wholesome.''
There was an unusual edge to Rose's voice when she referred to her father. Jack rolled to his side and rested his head in his hand, maintaining his casual pose while studying her intently. She returned his gaze, a small frown marring the space between her brows.
"He loved my mother or so I have been told. They were once truly in love with each other." Jack considered Lord DeWitt's so-called libidinous reputation. This in turn led him to consider his own dislike of romantic entanglements, until now.
"Tell me about your father," he urged, curious. "As often as I've spoken of his downfall, I still know precious little about him."
Rose squared her shoulders. "You are probably better acquainted with him than I and yet, you never met him.'' She sighed, swirling a finger across the rim of her flute. ''Somewhere along the years, he and my Mother fell apart. She was cold toward him or so I hear, after my birth, she became involved with the work of charities, galas and such, leaving me at home with the hired care. My Father was unloved, seeking the urges to be satisfied in the arms of other women and in the gambling houses of the City.'' She took a sip of wine. ''I often think he would have been best served by never falling in love. Lord knows the sentiment brought him precious little happiness and a lifetime of regret." There was a sadness in her eyes and a firmness to her lips that betrayed her distress. He wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her, so he did just that, rising to a seated position and pulling her against his chest. Tossing aside the obtrusive hat, he pressed a kiss to her neck and breathed in her scent. Together, they faced the ocean.
"I worried about my mother when my father passed on," Jack murmured, his hands caressing the length of her arms. "I was not certain she could live without him. Even though he wasn't fully present, she never stopped loving him.''
''Did they meet often?''
''When I was a child, he came when he could. We would spend the afternoon in the fields; fishing and such. I never knew anything any different until I was a teen. I saw Mother crying for him and that was when she told me everything.'' He smirked as a certain memory. ''I told her to marry another, convinced that the only thing she would require to mend a decade long broken heart was another lover.''
''She never took one?''
He shook his head. ''Never. I was the only man in her life until her death.''
''Perhaps she was happy unwed and found peace with that.''
''Indeed.''
"So, have I," Rose said softly.
Reminders of how she didn't need him would not benefit his cause, it would also contribute to the already stabbing memory of his mother. He had to win her over before she made such a foolish decision. Their love had started out like a beautiful story from a book and now they had become messily tangled up in something else, something which seemed to be above them.
Rose had run, pushing away her feelings and growing into a determined woman that she was doing the right by everyone involved. She wasn't. She would soon find that out but in her own way, in her own mind and he would wait. He would always wait.
Reluctantly pulling away, Jack removed her glass from stiff fingers and topped it up.
"Are you hungry?" Rose nodded, obviously relieved. Then she gave him a dazzling smile that made his breath catch and his blood heat. At that moment, he knew. She was his, and he would protect her. Whatever the cost. A cold tingle crawled up his spine as he remembered the sight of her ransacked room. What would have happened if she'd been home? Clenching his jaw, he vowed to never find out. Marriage seemed a small price to keep her safe.