"No," she admitted in a reluctant whisper.

"You both need a break from the jungle before it turns the lot of you into, what, n.o.ble savages."

"Yes." She hugged him harder, almost fervently. "Oh, Jack. I'm praying Papa followed me out of the jungle-"

"I'm sure he did. He'd have to be worried sick. This may be just the thing to jar him back to his senses."

"When he sees London again, and Aunt Cecily, and all my cousins, I'm sure he'll realize that it isn't as bad as he's come to believe. It was Mother's death that changed him. He's been hiding out there in the forest."

"And keeping you with him. Listen to me." He took her face between his hands and gave her a sober look. "You have nothing to feel guilty for in leaving. Your father's the one who's been selfish-and the next time we meet, I shall make a point to tell him so."

She smiled ruefully. "Not that he'll listen."

"You haven't heard me roar," he explained in a teasing whisper, then he chucked her gently under the chin. "No more talk of patronage, now, or what your Papa wants. The important question from here on in is what do you want, Eden?"

She relaxed in his arms again, laying her head on his shoulder. "I want what I've always wanted," she said after a moment's consideration, then reached up to play with his hair, a faraway smile curving her lips. "I want to go to London and join in all the pleasures of the Season."

"Hm." He wrapped his arms around her waist. "And why do you want that?"

"Oh, I don't know, you'll think it sounds silly-but it just-it seems to me like London is the place where life is really happening. Everywhere else is just... pale imitations." She shook her head, seeing visions he could only guess at, by her dreamy look. "So many people. So much to do. The elegant shops and houses. All the beautiful lords and ladies... just like in the magazines." She leaned her cheek wistfully against his. "How I wish that I could be like them."

Jack held her in silence, not knowing what to say.

He got the feeling there was something she still wasn't telling him, but from what she had said, there were so many wrong a.s.sumptions built into her innocent words that he didn't know where to begin to correct her.

Besides, it wasn't his place. Who was he to dash her little-girl illusions about the glittering delights of London Town? He had no desire to nay-say her, especially now, after she had opened up to him.

Maybe she needed to hold onto that illusory dream right now, anyway, to keep her courage up for the unknown road ahead. He merely worried what would happen to her when she got there and found out there was another side to that world, as well. A dark side. A cruelty. An emptiness one had to guard against.

Those who had been exposed to it, as Jack had in his early years, quickly came to realize that the one thing a life of opulence lacked was meaning; that lack had nearly destroyed his youngest brother, Alec, as his sister's letters had described.

No, Eden didn't know that side of London life at all, but Jack did. He had survived firsthand the particular cruelty of the ton.

Considering that Eden was as much of an outsider as he was, he feared what could become of her in Society. At least in the jungle, she understood the dangers. In London, she would walk right into any number of traps. Chances were, she'd have to learn the hard way. And what then? Pain and disappointment could quickly leave her jaded.

A few years of trying to be what Society required would turn her into someone as cynical as he-or worse, a mercenary woman like Maura and her ilk, those t.i.tle-chasing females who sold themselves on the marriage mart for a country house and a coronet.

Having already developed a certain fondness for the little jungle oddball and all her charming quirks, he didn't want to see her hurt or changed by her efforts to fit in. Indeed, the whole prospect only made him want to protect her all the more.

Well, she still had time, he mused. He hadn't told her yet that, in fact, he was not taking her directly to London. She'd be staying in Ireland for six months, until his mission was completed.

As a result, she would actually miss the whole Season. Maybe by next year, she might have a better idea of what she was getting herself into. She could better prepare herself that way and learn ahead of time where Society's worst traps were buried.

For now, Jack dared not tell her of his decision to leave her safely ensconced at his castle in Ireland. Informing her now would only lead to feminine fury and tears-and they were getting along so well, he thought as he held her on his lap and gently stroked her hair.

A few more hours into their vigil, Eden fell asleep.

Since she had worked for two days straight tending her patient, earning, in all, the greatest measure of respect that he had ever had for a female, Jack lifted her in his arms and carried her up to his cabin, where he laid her in his bed.

He pulled the coverlet over her slender body to make sure she stayed warm. He smiled as his gaze trailed over her in the sparkly sea-princess gown, her auburn tresses spilling gracefully across his extra pillow. You want to be one of the beautiful people? He shook his head. Eden. Don't you know that you already are? Aye, she was more beautiful than most of them could ever hope to be, and this kind of beauty had nothing to do with her fairness of face.

He leaned down and placed a whisper-soft kiss on her pale, smooth forehead, then straightened up slowly and withdrew from the room without a sound.

Chapter.

Nine.

Eden dreamed of orchids.

A weightless rain of petals, so delicate and pale, floating down on her, and Jack was there, smiling, brown, solid as an oak in the mossy jungle shadows. But somehow, instead of their usual vanilla scent, the orchids smelled like cinnamon...

"Oh, Miss Farraday," murmured a deep, playful singsong, beguiling her to awaken. "Milady, your breakfast is served."

Reality pirouetted its way into her magical dream. The morning sunlight filtered through the cotton sheet that veiled her eyes.

That husky whisper came again: "There's chocolate here."

Her stomach growled in answer to the lovely smells floating through the thin layer of cloth.

Chocolate... and cinnamon?

Ahhh...

She was already smiling before she was even quite awake.

Drowsily inching the sheet down from her face, she peeked over the edge of it, and saw Jack sitting beside her on the edge of the bed, his arm braced possessively across her body.

By the soft, gold, rosy light of morning, the terror of the West Indies was watching her with a tender, slightly doting smile on his ruggedly handsome face.

"Jack!" she said softly, and sat up, clutching the bed-sheet to her bosom.

He leaned near and kissed her cheek. "Good morning, sweet." He swept a gesture to the legged tray waiting on the bed. "May I present this celebratory breakfast in your honor."

"Goodness, I accept, but what are we celebrating?" she asked with a large yawn.

"The fever's broken. Peter Stockwell is awake, and more importantly, alive."

Her eyes widened. "Oh, thank G.o.d."

"Thanks, also, to you, my intrepid little doctor." He handed her a mug of hot chocolate without further ado.

She was thrilled by this rare luxury, glancing down into the cup, then at him again. "Is there sugar in it?"

"Lots."

She sipped of its sweet, dark comfort and let out an appreciative sigh.

"Let's see, what else have we got for you here?" he mused aloud. He reached toward the breakfast tray and lifted off the silver lid, revealing a gla.s.s of juice and a beautifully arranged plate of sliced ham, fresh grapefruit, and cinnamon rolls, still steaming warm, with raisins peeking out from underneath the white glaze that dripped down the flaky sides.

Tempted, Eden set her chocolate down, licked her lips, and picked up the cinnamon roll, taking a large bite. Jack's smile broadened at her amazed exclamations of delight. After years of taking care of Papa and Connor in the jungle, she could not remember anyone ever having made such a fuss over her.

She pushed the plate toward him. "You don't mean to make me eat all of this by myself?"

"Yes." He grinned with a flash of even, white teeth. "Every crumb."

She gave him a look of playful scolding and held up a cinnamon roll to his lips. He took a huge bite, and Eden ate the other half, then leaned forward, giggling as she chewed, and kissed him on the mouth.

"Mm." Jack swallowed, returning her playful peck as he reached for a sip of her chocolate. "That's good."

"I told you so."

"I meant your kiss." He set the cup aside and lifted the gla.s.s of juice out of her hand. Setting it on the tray, he gave her a hungry stare. "I want another."

Her pulse leaped with antic.i.p.ation as he cupped his hand around her nape and gently drew her closer. She sighed softly as his lips caressed hers, melting into his embrace.

She had not realized how much she had been craving him and counting the hours since he had last reached for her. It seemed ages since she had last felt his arms around her, but it had only been two nights ago when he'd kissed her in his bed.

As she wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kisses eagerly, he pulled her closer with an arm around her waist; his fingertips glided down her neck, the light touch causing her to shiver.

She knew she shouldn't want this, but she did.

She knew that it was dangerous, but she wasn't afraid.

As she stroked his smoothly shaved cheeks and the dark silk waves of hair, her world turned giddy spirals. She wasn't sure what was happening to them, but the exquisite pleasure they took in each other was something that neither of them had expected to find. It was a pleasure that was much more than physical.

"Good morning, Eden," he whispered, after a long moment of reveling in her response.

"Good morning, Jack." Her voice was a breathless purr.

Taking hold of the lapels of his unb.u.t.toned waistcoat, she pulled him closer, smiling, and demanded more kisses.

He gave them happily, letting her hair tumble through his splayed fingers. His breathing was deepening; her whole body tingled as she ran her hand hungrily down his waist.

"I have to stop this," he ground out, dragging his lips away from hers.

"Why?" she breathed.

"Because I want you."

"Well?"

He shuddered and closed his eyes at her urgent whisper, leaning his forehead against hers. "Eden."

"Jack."

"You don't know what you're asking."

"Then why don't you show me?" She traced the curve of his ear with her lips. "I trust you, Jack. I've trusted you from the start."

"Aye, that's the problem."

Sitting back, she lifted his hand to her lips and kissed his fingertips. His face was taut, and the aqua hue of his eyes promptly darkened to the deepest blue. He watched her, fascinated, as she took the end of his middle finger into her mouth.

All of a sudden, he leaned in and captured her face between his hands, replacing his finger with the urgent stroke of his tongue. Her heart thundered. His fine mouth slid back and forth across hers, coaxing her lips open wider. She knew the fundamentals of the mating dance, at least in theory, and he mimicked it now, with his tongue delving deep in her mouth.

Her chest was heaving when he finally ended the searing kiss.

"Lie back," he ordered in a husky murmur.

Without hesitation, holding his fevered stare, she obeyed.

He set the tray aside and moved onto the bed beside her, his every motion full of smooth control. He traced his middle finger slowly down the center of her body, letting it snag on the low-cut V of her shimmery sea-princess gown.

She looked at him in nervous curiosity as he slipped his hand inside her dress; but she closed her eyes and moaned when he squeezed her nipple. He kissed her chin while she reveled in the sensation, then flicked the corner of her lips with the tip of his tongue. She turned her head and devoured his offering of fresh kisses. Meanwhile, his hand left her bodice and traveled lower, down to her waist.

She wound her arms around his neck in wild antic.i.p.ation when she sensed him discreetly inching her skirt up her thigh.

"Oh, Jack." She hugged him harder, her body on fire.

"May I?" he whispered, skimming his hand up beneath the gauzy blue fabric, his deft touch running slowly along her inner thigh.

Panting, Eden stared at him, unable to give her reckless yearning voice. Touch me.

He gave her a knowing half smile then bent his head to her throat, letting her frantic pulse beat against his lips. His questing fingers glided deep between her legs, exploring, caressing her, pleasuring her. She groaned, accepting his incursion in helpless yielding. Her limbs went lax, her knees weakened, and she let her thighs part in uncertain welcome.

"Tell me what you like," he whispered, but the power of speech was beyond her.

She liked it all. He kissed her shoulder like a man in a trance as he penetrated her with one and then two fingers, making her so hot and so wet she feared she was melting. She groaned, soon given over entirely to hot, craven l.u.s.t.

Oh, G.o.d, yes, this was what she had burned for without even knowing it. She was entranced, could think of nothing but the power of his strong body enfolding her, and his clever hands taking her to places she had never been, had never dreamed existed. She wanted to visit all of those places with Jack.

He cradled her head with his other hand and teethed her earlobe lightly, his heavy breathing raspy by her ear. "Just let it happen, my love."

"Let what happen?"

"You'll see."

She moaned in helpless bliss as she held him close, one arm draped around his neck, the other hand clutching the covers. The fervent pleasure of his touch dazzled her, coaxed her ever closer toward some unknown cataclysm. She could do naught but trust him to take her there safely.

She wondered what was going to happen, like he said-and then all of a sudden, she knew.