James wiped his hand across his forehead. Sweat and rain, he thought. Jessie could always run fast. “Jessie,” he said finally, “have you ever seen a trollop?”
She gave that profound thought. He guided her to the fireplace, where a fire blazed cheerfully. “Warm yourself,” he said, rubbing his hands together.
She shook out her skirts, saying, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a trollop. Do they truly look like I do when I look nice?”
“No, they look tawdry and garish, things like that. They look obvious, their clothing an advertisement to men.”
She swallowed, not looking at him, just shaking those skirts of hers more than they needed to be shaken.
“No, you don’t look like a trollop,” he said with a deep sigh. “Are you going to propose to me, Jessie, if I tell you that my proposal was a sham?”
“No. I would never do that to you.”
“Why not?”
She sat down on the floor and stretched her hands toward the fire. “It’s no great mystery, James. You don’t love me. I want to marry someone who loves me for what I am—both the new Jessie and the old Jessie. My father loves me but that’s different, isn’t it? I’m an excellent employee and he doesn’t have to pay me anything, just feed me and give me a place to sleep.” She eased back a couple of feet from the fire and settled her skirts around her legs.
“I think you’re being harsh.”
“Perhaps. But it doesn’t change anything. I simply have to realize what I can have and what I can’t have.”
“Do you want to have children?”
“Yes, but that’s something I probably won’t have. A husband is necessary first.”
He turned on her then, and she realized he was quite angry. It surprised her. “Damn you, why do you think so little of yourself? Look at you, you’re lovely in a modest sort of way.” He stalled.
“I know,” she said.
“Stop sounding like a whipped hound. Stop trying to sound so reasonable, so self-effacing. Why don’t you want to sacrifice me to cancel out your ruination? I’m here. I’ve asked you to sacrifice me.”
He came down beside her, grabbed her arms, toppled her backward, and came down over her.
16
JESSIE WAS A good fighter. She brought her legs up and struck him in the back, then slammed her fists into his shoulders and chest. He flattened himself over her, grabbed that braid of hers to hold her still, leaned down, and kissed her.
She jerked her head to the side and he missed the first time. He got her chin, then the tip of her nose, then finally her mouth.
“Stop it, James. You’re pulling my hair out.”
That got his tongue into her mouth, but for only an instant. He barely escaped with his tongue still intact. She was really mad, he thought, if she were willing to bite off his tongue. He reared up on his elbows, not trying to force her anymore. He leaned up just a bit and stared down at her.
“Your hair smells like lavender and rain.”
“Go to the devil, James. That’s drivel. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but this is—”
He leaned down quickly and kissed her again. He managed to push her legs apart and came down to lie between them. He closed his eyes at the feel of her. He could feel the heat even through her gown and her petticoats. He pressed down and she gasped.
“Will you rape me in the damned library, you idiot?”
James shook his head. He looked bemused. “I’m ruining you but good. It’s better when the man’s on top and trying to stick his tongue in the woman’s mouth and pressing himself against her belly. Yes, this is the right way to ruin a woman. I never much considered it before, but you feel good, Jessie. Don’t you like me against you? Can you feel me?” He knew she could. He was harder than the leg of that gilt chair just a foot away from him.
“Yes, and it’s strange. You’re just like a stallion, aren’t you?”
“More or less, but not really, which is something for which you should be profoundly grateful. Now, Jessie, will you marry me?”
“No, nothing’s changed. All you feel now is a bit of lust. My mother has told all her daughters about men and their lust. She says that a gentleman’s lust is usually the only thing a female can exploit to get her way. She says that all men feel lust with great regularity. Even after they’re wedded, she says, their lust doesn’t stay at home where it should.”