Chapter 22

London, 1820…

It was dark when Elizabeth opened her eyes, the only light in the room coming from a low burning candle on the other side of the bed. She felt silly when she thought about how they'd wasted a day, having drifted off to sleep afterwards without so much as a care. Lazily, she lifted her head, her eyes adjusting to the darkness as they settled on Jason's sleeping face. His lips were parted slightly, his face more relaxed than she'd ever seen, and as her eyes trailed over the span of his chest, she couldn't help but think that he was easily the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

Of course, no man wanted to hear that.

Jason couldn't see the exquisite beauty that lied in his chiseled chest and bright blue eyes, or even the way his calloused hands gently stroked her skin. It made her blush to think about the way he'd touched her, the sounds he drew from her body, and she really wanted nothing more than to feel that way again.

She shifted against his side, wincing as she moved her leg from across his waist, wondering briefly how she'd ended up draped across him. Briefly, she entertained the idea that sometime in the course of their napping, he reached for her.

"Oh," she sighed painfully, stretching her legs out at his side. She expected to feel some sort of pain afterwards, but it hadn't been immediatelyly, so she almost thought she was safe. Waking up now, she felt stretched from the inside out, a tightening in her stomach so stiff it made her head spin. "Hmph."

"Elizabeth," Jason murmured, yawning as his eyes fluttered opened. She'd forgotten what a light sleeper he was.

"Hi," she whispered, drawing the blanket over her chest as she groaned and rolled onto her side.

"It hurts," he said, his voice tired as he pulled her towards himthem with his arm that was slipped beneath her. "I'm so sorry I-"

"I'm not," she interrupted, nuzzling her cheek to his bare shoulder as her fingers danced across his chest. "I liked it."

He groaned, not painfully like her, but from the pit of his stomach, and she felt her stomach flutter at the sound.

Carly and Lulu had told her plenty of things about sex, which made sense seeing as they'd had enough of it, but they never told her about this; the warm feelings afterwards, the pleasure that overrode any pain. The only aspect they mentioned that Elizabeth could agree with was the desire to do it over and over.

What Jason had done to her with his hands and mouth, the way he set her free, it was a feeling she never wanted to let go of. And while naturally she'd been so quiet and shy, he pushed her to let go, and there was nothing more exhilarating than letting the sounds he created inside of her burst from her lips. He forced her to places she didn't know existed, and the way he begged for her to let go, how badly he needed her to – well, it left her wanting and needing more and more.

And quite honestly, she wasn't sure if she could ever get enough.

He groaned again as her palm skimmed over his hips, settling where the blanket rested at his waist. "Are you okay?" she asked softly, her eyes falling to the bandage on his side. She'd completely forgotten about his injury.

"Yes," he grinned crookedly, lifting his head to brush his lips to her forehead. "If you like I can have a bath made for you. I'm not sure it will help-" He stopped when he heard the low growl of her stomach. She laughed, pressing her face into his shoulder. "When was the last time you ate?"

She shrugged, shifting uneasily as she curled against his side. "Honestly…I don't remember." Tipping her head back, she gave him a nervous smile. "So much has happened…and yesterday, I was so – it was exhausting and today…" She blushed and buried her face in his shoulder.

"You need to eat," he sighed, pulling his arm out from beneath her. She tried to look away as he slid out from beneath the cover, his body glowing in the flicker of the candlelight. He was less shy with his body than she was, facing her as he tugged his robe over his shoulders, and she couldn't stop her eyes from traveling…down.

Yes, it was still very terrifying, but in an extremely good way.

"I'll go see what I can stir up in the kitchen," he murmured, leaning over to brush his lips to hers.

"Wait," she said, pushing herself up and hesitantly throwing the covers back. He looked her over just as she had him, and she couldn't say that she minded. "I'll come too."

"Are you sure?" he asked, frowning when she grimaced as she got out of bed.

She nodded, smiling softly as he came around the side of the bed with a robe for her. "My father always said you can just walk it out," she replied, laughing as Jason shrugged the robe on her shoulders, his hands slipping around to stroke her lower belly. "I suppose I shouldn't mention him at a time like this."

"They are very few things that could distract me," he murmured, nudging her hair away with hiser nose to kiss her neck. "Are you sure you don't want me to run down and-"

"No one will be awake, right?" she asked, turning around in his arms.

"If they're smart, they won't be," he replied, pressing his lips to hers. His hands slid around her waist, tracing her spine and the curve of her bottom as she pressed against him. He started to back her towards the bed butand stopped when her stomach growled again. "Food and then…" She arched her eyebrows hopefully, but saw him frown when she winced as she started for the door. "We'll see."

**********

"Mmm, this is the best chocolate soufflé I've ever had," Elizabeth murmured, licking the back of her spoon as she swung her legs back and forth on the counter. It was very improper of her, but after Jason started cooking, she could barely keep heris hands off him, and he'd sat her up there and told her not o move. What kind of wife would she have been not to listen? "We'll have to thank whoever cooked for saving it."

"It was Sonny, I believe," Jason replied, gently raking her curls away from her face as he plucked the spoon from her hand to take a bite. Her face darkened slightly and he cupped her chin, drawing her lips to his. "None of that tonight." She nodded, failing to push the demons away. "Elizabeth, please don't upset yourself."

"I'm not," she sighed, sticking out her lower lip. "I'm only upset that you took my spoon." He cracked a smile as he dipped the spoon into the chocolate and brought it to her lips. He groaned as her plump lips wrapped over the soufflé, not leaving a trace of chocolate behind. "It tastes better this way."

He murmured in agreement, gently pulling her legs apart so he could step between them. She sighed as his hands skimmed beneath her robe, his fingers tracing circles on her thighs. She leaned forward, resting her head on his shoulder as his hands roamed over her skin.

"I can't remember the last time I was this content," she confessed, kissing his shoulder through his robe.

"It's good to see you so happy," he said seriously, nuzzling the side of her face.

"Are you?" she asked, sitting up and cradling his face in her hands.

"More than I've ever been, I think," he admitted thickly, looking away from her. She made it impossible to hide how he felt, and even if he didn't tell her, she would have seen it in his eyes.

"Were you happy in Italy?" she asked, scooping out another bite of the soufflé.

He nodded, and then shrugged. "It was a different kind of happy. I suppose I was at the point where I accepted what my life was, what I had given up by leaving London."

Frowning, she reached for the bowl of fruit he'd cut, and looked at him thoughtfully as she popped a slice of peach into her mouth. "What did you give up?" she asked, after she swallowed, wiping her sticky fingers on her robe.

"Johnny and Nadine mostly," he sighed, grabbing a piece of peach and holding it to her lips. She smiled as he traced the curve of her lips before she lips before parting her lipstugged and tugging it into her mouth with her tongue. "They were my oldest friends, and I left them."

"Why?" she asked, shaking her head at herself. "It's really none of my business. I shouldn't-"

"No," he interrupted, sighing as he rested his hands on her knees. "You told me your truths. I should tell you mine."

"Al – alright," she agreed, dropping her eyes to his lap. "Only if you want to. Don't feel obligated to-"

"I want to tell you, but I'm afraid it's quite embarrassing," he cut in, lifting a hand to her face and forcing her to look at him. "You would do anything for your father – for the only family you have, and I –I left mine."

She turned her face into his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm. "With good reason, I'm sure."

He nodded, torn between whether or not to agree. "Things were different then, Elizabeth. My life – I was never to be a Viscount, you know."

"Then how did you become one?" she inquired, smiling softly.

"When a man wants something he can take it," he muttered regretfully. "That's one lesson I learned from my family." Clearing his throat, he took a deep breath. "I'm not sure where to begin exactly."

"The beginning," she offered, sliding another piece of fruit into his mouth. "And take all the time you need. You were patient with me, so you deserve nothing but the same in return."

"Thank you," he said solemnly, grinning as she held a slice of peach to his lips mouth. He chewed quietly and swallowed. "I grew up as someone else; a different name, a different life. The only coordination between who I used to be and who I am now is Johnny. He has always been my friend, and he always will be."

"We used to do all kinds of stupid things. I don't remember any of them, but Johnny does. We'd steal horses and start fights in pubs just to pass the time. Typical things that a boy does, I guess. We never took things too far, and then one night – this is Johnny's version of the story. I'm afraid I don't remember it as candidly as he does. Some silly drunk at one of the pubs dared us to steal a carriage – we were drunk, had been celebrating Johnny's birthday, and we were never one to back down from a dare."

"So we did it. Stole it from this mean, old man who used to live outside of town, and he came after us – he was ready to fight us. The carriage was full of fruits he sold in town, so while Johnny drove, I was throwing them at the poor man, and like I mentioned – we were drunk. – Oone moment, we were barreling down the street and the next…there was nothing."

"You had an accident?" she gasped, her eyes softening.

"A horrible one. I landed head first in the street while Johnny got away with just a broken arm and some stitches. I was – I was taken to your father-"

"My father," she cut in, looking confused. "So you – that's how you know him; you were a patient."

"Johnny too," he confirmed. "I – I actually stayed in your home for a while. They took me straight to Jeffrey and he put me up in one of the guest rooms. I was in and out for a few months – an entire summer."

"You stayed in my house," she repeated, furrowing her brow.

"I was in and out for a few months, and when I was awake…I couldn't remember anything. Who I was. My family. Even Johnny. There was nothing. My family wasn't very receptive to that. They were wealthy. I was an heir to their fortune and they were more worried about the money, the life they had built on my existence than…"

"That's awful," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "It wasn't your fault-"

"We did something stupid. I paid for it," he shrugged, starting to pull away from her, but she grabbed his hands and tugged him back to the counter.

"Jason, they're your family. They're supposed to take care of you when you're sick and you're hurt. They abandoned you – you didn't do anything wrong."

"Not exactly." He frowned as she tightened her hands around his. "I stayed with your father that summer, and he – he and Johnny were the only people who really looked at me and saw a – a real person. Those few months that I stayed with Jeffrey – I think I learned more from him than anyone else. He was like a surrogate father to me. My family very much resented your father's role in my life – they were cruel to him. I felt responsible and I just – I was so angry. I wanted to make them pay."

"What did you do?" she asked hesitantly, lifting a hand to his face.

"I – uh – I managed to ruin them. I stayed in London for six months or so after I left your father's home and mostly with the help of Johnny's crazy father – our families had always been rivals – I wiped the Quartermaines of all their wealth. I left them with nothing, and I never really felt any remorse, except for my grandmother."

"This is their house," Elizabeth said, looking around as if she suddenly didn't want to be there. "This is where you grew up."

"Where they tried to keep me prisoner – tried to force Jason Quartermaine out as if he was hiding or something. I let Johnny's father take care of the Quartermaines. I let him swindle them out of everything with the promise that my grandmother – the only one who was kind to me – that she would be well off."

"And you left?" she asked, attempting to piece it together.

He nodded. "I didn't want any money that Anthony stole from my family. I wanted to get away. They tried to keep Jeffrey and Johnny away from me – they acted like I was a child and your father – he gave me enough money to send me away. I promised to pay him back in full, but he wouldn't hear of it. So I told him if he ever needed anything, he could send for me."

Her shoulders sagged exhaustedly. "My father sent you to Italy."

"He said he always wanted to go – that his wife was from there…"

"My mother. She was why my father loved it so much," Elizabeth agreed, her eyes shining. "And when I took to drawing, just like she did, he always talked about Italy." She smoothed her thumb over his cheek. "My father gave you a life, and he called you back for this…to lose it."

"He needed my help," Jason argued seriously. "He gave me the chance at life, but I took so much from the people who hurt me. I was bitter and young and-"

"They hurt you, and you can feel however you want to feel about that. When someone we love – we care about – you trusted them. They were supposed to be there and they weren't," she murmured, sliding her arms around his neck and pulling him as close as she could. "Jason, that must have been awful."

"I don't want sympathy. What I did was awful…"

"Would you take it back?" she asked, pulling back to look at him. "Would you change what you did?" He couldn't look at her. "Exactly. You did what you did, but they – you are right. I'd do anything for my father, but he loves me unconditionally and he'd never…" She shook her head. "I can't imagine how alone you were, Jason. The only chance you had at a life to leave was to run. That couldn't have been easy."

"It was the coward's way. I could have stayed and fought against them – made something for myself."

"But everyone would know, and if anyone knows what that kind of gossip feels like, it's me." She pulled him into another hug and pressed a kiss to his neck. "This is why you didn't push me to leave, isn't it? You know what it's like to run."

"if I had known what you weren't running from – I may have acted differently," he admitted. "But I know what it's like to be lonely – to have comfort in it and to be afraid to leave it." He slipped his hands beneath her robe and pulled her to the edge of the counter. "I was afraid after all you've done to protect your father, you wouldn't like what I did to my family."

"You took care of your grandmother – the one that mattered," she reminded him. "As for my situation, my father was protecting me – just as I'm trying to do for him, which is what your family should have done."

"I think you have too much faith in the kind of man I am," he sighed, brushing his lips over her forehead.

"No," she corrected, arching her eyebrow. "I just see the man you really are, not some distorted image you have in your head."

"Likewise," he murmured softly. "I wish you could see the woman I see."

"Well, you hit your head pretty hard," she teased playfully. "I don't suppose such an opinion counts."

"You're a terrible woman," he muttered, lifting her legs to wrap around his waist and hoisting her into his arms.

"Making me quite suited for an equally terrible man," she laughed, reaching to snatch the bowl of fruit from the counter. "For later."

He chuckled and started out of the kitchen, his lips on hers. "To bed, wife?" he asked slyly, opening his mouth as she held up a piece of fruit.

She grinned. "To bed, husband."