The Sins of a Few (6 page)

Chapter Eight

Faith stared at Nathanial, her mouth ajar, not the least bit mindful of Jeremiah’s approach. “You did
what
?”

“I am not a brute,” he said mildly. “You are free to decline.”

“You were not free to
ask
,” she sputtered. Could he be serious? It mattered not what she thought of his family—they thought themselves one of the finest in all of the colonies and would certainly never permit their son to settle for less than the wealthiest of patricians. She opened her mouth only to close it again when she realized her argument had nothing to do with her own desires, but of the impracticality of such an arrangement. Had his attention dizzied her to the point that she had forgotten what his family had done to hers…to the whole of Salem? Even if she looked past that, there could never be anything between them. His disdain for her beloved home had seen to that. If she succumbed to him, she would be left with nothing but the mark of a sinner while he moved on from town to town, building his coffers and bedding every willing woman along the path.

He brushed a fingertip over her trembling lip, setting fire to the sensations that still lingered from his kiss—sensations that wanted nothing of reason. “A man is always free to ask.”

The conversation was cut short by Jeremiah’s intrusion, and for that she was infinitely grateful. She needed time to shed the effects of Nathanial’s touch, though she was not sure a lifetime would be enough. Not even Jeremiah’s approach served to snap her out of her haze, for his swift, hard strides spoke of fury. She reacted by stepping closer to Nathanial, which in turn only seemed to anger Jeremiah all the more. He had been persistent for many months in his attempts to court her, and the scowl he wore after seeing her with Nathanial contradicted his pseudo-friendly tone. “You two seem cozy.”

“Old friends,” Nathanial said, earning a murderous glare. “Speaking of which, it has been a long time. How have you fared?”

Jeremiah turned his scrutiny toward Nathanial. “Have we met?”

“Nathanial Abbot.”

Recognition lit Jeremiah’s eyes, but the hard set of his jaw did not soften. Faith had seen him skirmish enough with other men to know he was looking for a fight, but Nathanial stood a head taller and was twice the heft, all of it muscle. Surely Jeremiah would not be so foolish. He closed his stance a bit and straightened, but he remained tense. “Ah, many years gone. I would not recognize you. How were your travels?”

“Long, and I am afraid the view at sea seldom changes. It was good to see land again.” Nathanial’s friendly speech threw Faith, for she was close enough to feel the tension in his body. The fact that his face could so easily mislead left her wary. She swayed away from him, but his hold tightened and he drew her close.

Jeremiah observed his actions with the good humor of an animal caught in a trap. “Apparently that wasn’t all you missed,” he said darkly. “I did not realize you and Faith were promised.”

It is as well news to me
. She looked to Nathanial, curious how he would respond without uttering untruth.

“I carried no expectations with me to London, though I am most grateful for her attentions upon my return.” He smiled warmly at Faith as he talked, and she realized he spoke as much to her as he did Jeremiah.

“I am glad to hear that,” Jeremiah said, his shock clearly behind him now that he had the wherewithal to sneer. “For I most certainly enjoyed her
attentions
while you were gone.”

Nathanial stepped ahead, thus disengaging from his entanglement with Faith, but her hand on his arm put a quick end to his forward movement. “Is it your intention to mislead with your words,” she snapped, “or are you just stupid?”

Jeremiah snorted. “I see how freely you give of yourself, Faith. The whole of Salem does. Why delude Goodman Abbot?”

She balled her fists uselessly, for she felt no reprieve and could not hit him. “The only one deluded here is you. I have refused all of your advances and I will continue to do so.”

“Damned right she will,” Nathanial said. His words carried a threat Jeremiah would have been a fool to discharge, but Jeremiah had never been known as a seasoned thinker. He was brash and opinionated, and he seldom thought before he reacted.

He puffed up his chest, reminding her of one of her roosters. “Enjoy her now, Abbot. She will tire of you soon enough, and then she will be off to find a man whose family has a pastime that does not include the orchestration of killings.”

The words came as a slap. Faith knew Nathanial was not to blame for his family’s actions while he was gone, but she suddenly felt like a traitor consorting with the enemy’s blood. Nathanial stood stock still at her side. At first she thought he had successfully ignored Jeremiah, then a touch to his arm revealed his fury. His arms shook with restraint, and when her fingertips grazed his sleeve the trembling eased. She offered a hesitant smile. Had she relieved his temper so readily?

Nathanial took a barely perceptible breath. “Whether she moves on—”

“Is none of his concern, Nathanial,” she interrupted. “Leave it be.”

Jeremiah released a most loathsome smirk. “You allow a woman to speak for you?” Turning to Faith, he said, “I dare say your manhood outrivals his. You will want for more, and I will be waiting.”

“You will wait until you wither,” she snapped.

Jeremiah held out his hands. “Come now, Faith. As you well know, I am anything but withered.”

Red-hot anger and embarrassment flooded Faith’s vision, though the haze did not prevent her from seeing Nathanial’s fist land squarely against Jeremiah’s face. Jeremiah staggered backward, cross-eyed, as blood poured from his nose. Nathanial drew back for another punch, but Jeremiah hit the ground before he swung.

“Any further commentary you would like to add?” Nathanial spat.

Jeremiah rolled to his side, attempted to get to his knees, and fell once again into a heap.

“You pisser,” Nathanial said. “How’s your raging manhood now?”

“Nathanial, stop.”

“Why?” Nathanial asked of her. “Is it true what he said? Do you give so freely of yourself that the whole of Salem knows?”

For an interminable moment, the world shifted to silence. No one spoke. No one breathed. Then Faith exploded.

“You are an insolent, arrogant
ass
.” She turned and stormed through the rear door of her home, slamming it firmly behind her. She could not remember being so angry. How
dare
Nathanial accuse her? She looked for her mother, then remembered one of the goodwives was to have escorted her to converse with the ladies as they made bread. She must have left while Faith was at the sewing circle.

She and Nathanial were alone.

She turned toward the closed door with the intention of securing the latch, but just that moment it was thrown open. Nathanial stood in the threshold for a beat, his body impossibly tall and broad. His dark blond hair was tousled, and his eyes snapped blue sparks. The unseasonably warm day coupled with his aggression left a sheen of moisture over his bronzed skin, under which muscles bunched and coiled. She would be wise to be frightened, but she was angry.
Furious
.

“How
dare
you imply I have been passed around!”

“He was willing to take a hit for his words.” Nathanial’s own words were bereft of emotion.

Inside, she did not match his calm, however forced. Did he imply Jeremiah’s stupidity was an indication he spoke
truth
? She could not remember being so angry, and this from a man who wanted her as a wife? “As far as I am concerned,” she said through her teeth, “he can take another one. He is the proprietor of those rumors, and only because I would not allow him to have his way.”

Nathanial turned and drummed his fingers against the wall, his tempo unbearable. His voice found her without the benefit of a glance. “He has not touched you?”

A rush of hard memories flooded her. Jeremiah pushing at her, making drunken demands. It was her fortune he had been so weakened by his foolishness she had quite easily disentangled from his advances. “He tried. I fought him off.”

The words had scarcely left her mouth before Nathanial turned through the open doorway.

“Where are you going?”

“To supply him with another hit.”

“No.”

She spoke the word so quietly she could not believe he had heard her, but they drew him to a stop. He turned to face her. “Why? Why do you defend him?”

“Why do you fight so hard?” she implored of him. “What have you to gain? Has the village not been through enough?”

“I make no discount of what happened here, but I will not let that man dishonor you.”

“He will no more dishonor me with his lies than you will with your fist.”

Nathanial blew a frustrated breath, but he came back inside and shut the door behind him, his jaw as firm as steel. “If you have not consorted with him,” he said evenly, “then with whom?”

“Who…what?”

“If we are to marry, I have the right to know.”

“Then worry not, for we are certainly
not
to marry.”

She expected to rile him, but he remained calm. Deadly calm.

“You are one damnable woman.”

“Yet enough of a lady to refrain from telling you what
you
are.”

He backed her against the wall. Caged her in with both arms. “Go ahead,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “Tell me what I am.”

“I will not play your games.”

“I find that convenient, for this is not a game. Please, speak freely. Tell me what I am.” He waited, his gaze pouring into hers. The intensity was such that she could not bear it, yet she did not want it to end. She had no voice, no words to express the muddle of emotions clogging her throat.

Her lack of response must have been answer enough.

“Dammit, Faith.” He closed his mouth on hers, instantly consuming her.

Her body’s response was an act of treason. Every validation she had for refusing him fled, and in her dizzied state she realized how feral he was—how big and raw. His arms were thick and powerful, his chest wide. She truly had no defense against such a man, but with his lips on hers and his tongue taking cautious exploration of her mouth, he was not the brute he had shown himself to be. He was gentle. Questioning. Seeking permission.

Permission she was desperate to give.

He knew the moment she stopped fighting, for he tilted his head and slanted the kiss so he could fully explore her. She opened willingly, her tongue tentative, then hungry with the thrill of seeking his warmth. His exploration didn’t end there. He traced with one hand the curve of her waist and chased butterflies across her belly. His touch crept higher still until her breasts beaded and ached beneath her chemise. His big hand caressed and cupped the weight of one, his fingers finding purchase on its center with a deft ability that left her moaning in his arms.

Her body raged, moving at will against his. He was hard, obviously so with the strain against his breeches, and he growled into her mouth when she brushed him with her fingertips. Delighted that she could make him react in such a way, she grabbed him with more intent and nearly sent him to the ground on buckled knees.

He chose to bring her down with him…to the bed.

Her body burned in ways she didn’t know it could, and she ached inside and out for his roughened touch. As he crawled over her, his lips and hands hungry, the yearning grew until she did not know her own skin. Need flooded her, leaving her spinning in its ruddy aftermath. She could do nothing but clutch him with fingers that strained with the effort, her reward a brush of hot breath against her ear as he voiced his pleasure.

But this man was not deserving of pleasure—not at her hand. She knew what he had said. She knew what he had
accused
.

She knew she was more.

A deep, shaky breath gave her courage.

“Nathanial.”

Blue eyes, piercing in the intensity, immediately met her gaze. The only sounds were those of their breaths and that of her heartbeat thundering in her chest. She wondered if he heard it, then why he had to look at her in such a way. Nathanial Abbot was a strong man—a man who had stood up to his father and crossed the ocean to make his own way in life. He was a man of his own mind.

He was not a man who should look as if he had found the world in her arms.

Her heart fell. Shattered. But she would find her way through the shards, for it mattered not how he looked at her now, but how he addressed her in that frank moment when anger revealed what his heart held. How could she give herself to a man who could say such things? A man who had left without worry for who he’d left behind? A man who thought himself better than each and every one of them?

She swallowed. “Wait.”

The order was useless, for he had already stilled in his ministrations.

“You cannot accuse me of indiscretions,” she said, “then purport to use me for your own.”

He searched her face, drawing her into a sea of endless blue. “If you are truthful, I will know when we join. And this is not a mere indiscretion, but a sworn act between two who are to marry. But you are free to decline me. I demand only that you offer freely.”

“I offer freely of myself to no man, least of all myself to you in marriage.”

The weak protest only made him smile.

“I find your stubborn streak most endearing. Such spirit is frowned upon among the upper crust.”

The idea of baring herself to him snapped her to her senses. “Stop,” she said.

He stilled, and his gaze landed expectantly upon her.

She shook so thoroughly inside she could not imagine why she did not rattle the bed, but it mattered not. Her decision must be firm. “I do not wish to become the latest of your conquests. Release me.”

He immediately rolled away from her, then lay there, his chest rising and falling with the swift cadence of his breath. Nathanial Abbot, in her bed. Every propriety broken, but nothing so broken as she. She had tasted this man. She had felt the weight of his need and known the intimacy of his touch. He wanted her, and she him, and there was no greater truth than that single desire that existed between them. Giving in to her desires would be so easy…