The Redemption Of Jefferson Cade

The last envelope bore a name. His name, written in a hand he knew. For one stunned moment Jefferson thought it was a cruel hoax. When he drew out two sheets of paper, he knew it wasn’t. The first was newspaper. The second a plain white sheet torn raggedly from a tablet. One line was written across the sheet in the same familiar hand.

Catching an unsteady breath, Jefferson read the written words out loud. His own words, spoken just once, long ago.

If you ever need me…

A promise to keep. A promise only Marissa would know.

“I’ll come for you,” he finished.

Marissa was alive. Given the subterfuge of the message, she was in danger. She needed help. She needed Jefferson Cade.

Dear Reader,

Ring in the New Year with the hottest new love stories from Silhouette Desire! The Redemption of Jefferson Cade by BJ James is our MAN OF THE MONTH. In this latest installment of MEN OF BELLE TERRE, the youngest Cade overcomes both external and internal obstacles to regain his lost love. And be sure to read the launch book in Desire’s first yearlong continuity series, DYNASTIES: THE CONNELLYS. In Tall, Dark & Royal, bestselling author Leanne Banks introduces a prominent Chicago family linked to European royals.

Anne Marie Winston offers another winner with Billionaire Bachelors: Ryan, a BABY BANK story featuring twin babies. In The Tycoon’s Temptation by Katherine Garbera, a jaded billionaire discovers the greater rewards of love, while Kristi Gold’s Dr. Dangerous discovers he’s addicted to a certain physical therapist’s personal approach to healing in this launch book of Kristi’s MARRYING AN M.D. miniseries. And Metsy Hingle bring us Navy SEAL Dad, a BACHELORS & BABIES story.

Start the year off right by savoring all six of these passionate, powerful and provocative romances from Silhouette Desire!

Enjoy!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

The Redemption of Jefferson Cade

BJ James

BJ JAMES’

first book for Silhouette Desire was published in February 1987. Her second Desire novel garnered for BJ a second Maggie, the coveted award of the Georgia Romance Writers. Through the years there have been other awards and nominations for awards, including, from Romantic Times Magazine, Reviewer’s Choice, Career Achievement, Best Desire and Best Series Romance of the Year. In that time, her books have appeared regularly on a number of bestseller lists, among them Waldenbooks and USA Today.

On a personal note, BJ and her physician husband have three sons and two grandsons. While her address reads Mooreboro, this is only the origin of a mail route passing through the countryside. A small village set in the foothills of western North Carolina is her home.

Contents

Foreword

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Foreword

In the coastal Lowcountry of South Carolina, where the fresh waters of winding rivers flow into the sea, there is an Eden of unmatched wonders. In this mix of waters and along the shores by which they carve their paths, life is rich and varied. The land is one of uncommon contrasts, with sandy, sea-swept beaches, mysterious swamps, teeming marshes bounded by ancient maritime forests. And a multitude of creatures abide in each.

In this realm of palms and palmettos, estuaries and rivers, shaded by towering live oaks draped in ghostly Spanish moss, lies Belle Terre. Like an exquisite pearl set among emeralds and sapphires, with its name the small antebellum city describes its province. As it describes itself.

Belle Terre, beautiful land. A beautiful city.

A very proper, very elegant, beautiful city. A gift for the soul. An exquisite mélange for the senses. With ancient and grand structures in varying states of repair and disrepair set along tree-lined, cobbled streets. With narrow, gated gardens lush with such greenery as resurrection and cinnamon ferns. And all of it wrapped in the lingering scent of camellias, azaleas, jessamine and magnolias.

Steeped in an aura of history, its culture and customs influenced by plantations that once abounded in the Lowcountry, as it clings to its past, Belle Terre is a province of contradictions. Within its society one will find arrogance abiding with humility, cruelty with kindness, insolence with gentility, honor with depravity, and hatred with love.

As ever when the senses are whetted and emotions untamed, in Belle Terre there will be passion, romance, and scandal.

Prologue

The wilderness was his sanctuary. As a boy he’d come in search of solace. As a man he came for peace.

From his vantage among the trees, Jefferson Cade looked over a swampy Eden. A land few knew as he knew it. The land of his heart. One of strange, erratic temperament, as now. For even as he waited, its mood altered. Dormant air grew sultry. Moisture permeated each breath and burnished all it touched in a heated mist. The day, and the hideaway tucked among the limbs of the moss strewn tree, were held in the thrall of a lowcountry summer.

Far below the tree house, at the edge of a pond, a fish jumped, startling a fawn just dipping his head to drink. Jefferson smiled as the tiny creature danced away. A smile that vanished as he glimpsed the woman half hidden in the shadow of a palmetto.

Caught by her stillness, he waited. As she watched the fawn, he saw how much she’d changed, yet remained the same. When she’d first come from Argentina to live, to study, and absorb the graces still surviving in the quaint city of Belle Terre, she’d been a girl on the verge of womanhood. Now the tomboy who hunted, fished, and handled horses as well as any man, had indeed become a beautiful woman. And his best friend.

“Marissa.” She couldn’t have heard, yet her eyes lifted to his. And, as she came to him, he whispered, “Marissa Claire.”

A half hour of silence later, Jefferson abandoned his pen and sketch pad. Moving to Marissa’s side he sat on the tree house floor, wondering what trouble had drawn her to him.

This meeting had begun strangely. After a subdued greeting and a strained smile, she’d barely spoken. Conversation had never been necessary between them. Yet now her silence was unbearable.

Leaning on an elbow, he stared down at a beguiling woman who lay as if she were sleeping. But he knew her body language too well not to read the wakeful tension. As patience deserted him, he tugged a stray curl. “Hey, lazybones, want to go fishing?”

Reluctantly her dark gaze met his. Knowing the time for pretense was past, but not ready to speak, she looked away.

Jefferson had never seen her so distant. It was rare that she would call him at midday asking that he meet her here. Rare that she barely greeted him then withdrew. Something was wrong. “What is it, Marissa? Why did you ask me to come here?”

When her reply was only a shrug, he lapsed again into silent contemplation. She was Marissa Claire Alexandre. Merrie to all but him, for whom the name hadn’t fit. An inexplicable perception he couldn’t explain to any but himself.

Four years before, she’d come to Belle Terre. Sent from the Alexandre estancia by a father determined to tame his daredevil daughter. Guided by Eden Cade, Marissa was to learn the ways of Southern ladies. Lessons she’d mastered perfectly, yet never lost her love of country life, or her passion for horses.

In the beginning their friendship was based on mutual admiration of their unique skill with horses. From that beginning came a deepening of common interests. As good friends became confidants, it was to him she turned in happy or troubled times.

But Marissa was only twenty-one, eight years younger than he. A disparity he never forgot, even as the remarkable girl became a remarkable woman—and Jefferson Cade, once forever immune, had fallen deeply in love with her. Deeply but in vain. In denial of all he felt, he survived by reminding himself the woman within the alluring body loved him as a friend.

Too soon even that would be taken from him. From the first, the plan was clear. Marissa would spend five years in her mother’s homeland. Then she was to return to Argentina to honor obligations she neither explained nor discussed. Jefferson had learned to live with the inevitable. Time in hand was too precious to waste agonizing over the time to come. And if friendship was all he could have, he would be a friend in every need.

Besieged by desire, but setting the sorrow of it aside, he turned her face to him. “Hey,” he questioned as he saw tears in her dark eyes. “What is it, sweetheart? How can I help?”

Marissa stared up at him, memorizing each handsome feature. She knew Jefferson had never understood the charisma of his smile, the power of his kindness. In all their years of friendship, he hadn’t known of her dual dilemma. When he’d urged her to spend more time with classmates and teased that she would never find her Prince Charming in the wilds with him, he didn’t understand she was promised to a much older man.

A promise she must honor. Though she’d found her prince where Jefferson said she couldn’t, she would keep her father’s word. And leave her heart in Prince Charming’s keeping.

As always in his strong presence, she found her own strength. Catching his wrist, she pressed her cheek in his palm. “There’s no help for a day that was preordained. I knew it would come, but not so soon.”

Slipping the scarf from her hair, he smoothed dark, silky tresses with his fingers. “What day, Marissa?”

“The day I say goodbye.”

He went totally still. “But you have another year.”

“That was the agreement. But now it’s different.” Her voice broke. “I’ve been called home.”

He wondered what agreement, but only asked, “When?”

Tears she’d denied flooded her eyes. “I leave tomorrow.”

Jefferson tensed. Then he drew her to him, embracing her in futile denial. “Not yet. Not so soon.”

Her arms crept around him, her head rested over his heart. She would remember this moment and treasure it. Someday she would tell the children she might have about this enchanting place, and of the man whose creation the tree house had been.

If she had sons, she would speak of his ruggedness, his adventures, and his communion with the wilderness. If she had daughters, she would tell them of the tenderness of a beautiful man, and would wonder if they looked into her heart and saw the truth.

But that lay in the future, that didn’t begin until tomorrow. Until then, she had this one, last day with Jefferson.

His chest rose and fell beneath her cheek as it nestled against the hard muscles. His hands at her shoulders moved her from his embrace. His shadowed stare moved over her face, lingering at her mouth, her eyes. Seeing what he hadn’t let himself see before. Believing what he hadn’t dared believe.

“Dear God,” he whispered, with regret for lost time, lost love.

Marissa didn’t flinch or turn away. For once, she wouldn’t hide what she felt for him.

Jefferson’s heart filled with hope. “Don’t go, Marissa.” Softly he spoke words he never expected to say. “Stay with me.”

In his face she saw despair, honor, a friend’s love. With a sigh she spoke the truth. “I can’t. There is a man, my father owes him a great deal. In return, I was promised to him long ago.”

“Promised to him?” Whatever he expected, it was never this. “Do you love him? Have I misread what I see in your eyes?”

Marissa felt the lash of his anger and forgave it. “I hardly know him. The betrothal was a business arrangement. He wanted a wife one day. It was decided I would be that wife.”

“In return for what?” Jefferson’s clasp on her shoulders seared into her flesh. “What do you get out of this arrangement?”

“I get nothing, Jefferson. But because of me, my father and mother can keep their life as it is.”

“Your life and you were traded for wealth, to insure a lifestyle?” He spat the words. “Your father would do that?”

“For money, power, the lifestyle? Yes.” Marissa was calm beneath his angry glare. “It’s the way of the wealthy, bartering lives, love, even children. My father was desperate. My mother’s health was failing. It was for her sake he negotiated this time in Belle Terre. In the bargain, I was to bring the expected graces to the marriage. And who better than Eden to teach me? Now, as a point of honor, my father is impatient to resolve the debt.”

“Honor?” Disgust seethed in Jefferson. Disgust she didn’t deserve. She loved her mother and her father. She was so young at the time, what choice was there for her? Deep in his soul, he understood. But understanding couldn’t ease the anguish.

“Arranged marriages aren’t uncommon in my land and families like mine. All my father has ever known is abundant wealth. As young as I was, even I could see the more extravagant the lifestyle, the less one can fathom living a lesser existence. In your world, the arrangement is despicable. In my father’s, he has done his best for his family. I could defy him and refuse to honor his word. But, because my mother’s illness is slowly debilitating and will likely continue for years, I won’t try.”

Jefferson drew a breath. An unsteady hand caressed her face. Softly, he said, “Then tell me how I can help you now.”

Marissa’s lips brushed the heel of his hand. Her steady gaze held his. “You could make love to me.”

His chest felt like a vise. If his mind reeled, now it spun into dementia. “No,” he heard himself say, though there was nothing he wanted more than to make love to her. “You don’t know what you’re asking. You haven’t considered the repercussions.”

“You’re wrong, my dearest friend. I know exactly what I’m asking. I’ve considered every repercussion. What I’m expected to do, what I will do, is for my family.” Touching his face, she let her drifting fingertips linger at his mouth. “This, I ask for me.”

Curling her fingers into a fist, she stared at her hand, and thought of his. Strong, hard, roughened by calluses, yet beautiful. And even in passion his touch would be gentle.

“What crime is it to learn of love from a man who cares? What sin to want you, Jefferson? I do, you know,” she whispered.

Jefferson clung to one last shred of sanity. “You…”

“Don’t!” A fingertip stopped his words. “Don’t tell me I don’t know what I want, what I need. You haven’t misread anything and I’m not asking for forever. But for my first time, I need to feel your hands on my body. Only yours.

“I can’t change the path of my life. But I can survive it if you give me this to remember. If you pretend for a little while that you love me as more than a friend.”

“No.” Though he drew away from her and rose to stand at his full height, he meant only that he wouldn’t be pretending. Marissa didn’t understand. As hurt gathered the eyes, right or wrong, he knew he couldn’t deny her. Or himself.

There was so much more he wanted to say, but he couldn’t think. He couldn’t be wise or pragmatic. He could only love her.

“Marissa.” He called her name, only her name. Yet beneath the storm of emotions lay an unspoken question as his slowly extended hand offered her a chance to back away. His riveted look moved from his own roughened fingers to her face. As a bewildered frown marred her brow, he spoke again. “Take my hand, sweetheart. But only if you truly want me. Only if you’re sure.”

In a subtle change, hope shone in her eyes. “I’m sure, Jefferson.” As she took his hand, her resolve was strong. “I’ve never been more sure in my life.”

As clasped hands held fast, drawing her up to his embrace, he knew there were questions to ask. Warnings to give. But common sense was lost as he reveled in holding her. Then into his own silence, he breathed a surrendering word. A curse? A prayer? Not even Jefferson knew. The battle was done. There was no going back.

In the stillness he undressed her, and the discarding of each garment became an exquisite seduction. Each button slipped free, unveiling her body inch by inch, inviting a touch, a kiss.

When she was cloaked only in sun-spangled shadows and the dark cascade of her hair, he discovered she was more beautiful than he’d dreamed. More desirable. With a final caress, his hands fell away to attend the task of undressing himself.

When the last of his own clothing was cast away, seeing the apprehension of innocence, taking her hands in his, he brought them to his mouth. Lips and breath warming her cold fingers, he murmured, “Don’t be afraid, Marissa.”

Bringing her nearer, he bent to kiss the tender flesh beneath her ear. As she murmured an indistinct sound of pleasure, he let his fingertips stray over her throat and down. When his hands closed over her breasts, his palms teasing their tips, the nipples hardened, as his own body had, with desire.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said one last time.

Marissa’s answer was a whisper as he drew her down to the floor. “Never with you, Jefferson.” When his lips followed the path of his touch she cried again, “Never with you.”

A virile man, Jefferson was far from innocent. He knew how to tantalize, how to excite, as he took Marissa with him from one degree of longing to another. Erotic forays discovered where to stroke, when to kiss, when to suckle, leaving her desperate for more, yet wondering how there could ever be. Then he tapped a secret well of unthinking hunger that spiraled into impassioned madness, intensifying every need.

Always before, he was the sole maker of madness. Once passion had sufficed. But with the coherent thought he could manage beneath her touch, he knew passion for passion’s sake would never be enough again. And, as he found himself falling deeper beneath her spell, nor would anyone but Marissa.

He’d never wanted forever. He wanted it now. But in its stead, he would make for her a beautiful memory to take to a new life. And for himself, a dream. The only forever he could have.

Swept into the madness, a gentle man became more gentle. When she called his name in a voice husky with desire, there was no past, no future. They were only a man and a woman trembling on the edge of a world where neither had gone, and would never go again.

Drawing away, he looked down at her. “Even the making of a beautiful memory can be painful. But only once.” Sealing his promise with a kiss, he came down to her, whispering, “Only once.”

In a day bright and hot, a cry sounded as moisture laden air painted joining bodies in a sheen of gossamer. Then there was only a sigh of welcome as Jefferson went with Marissa into the last of rapture…while the world waited.

The splash wasn’t enough to wake him, but it did. As naturally as breathing, he reached for Marissa. He was alone. In her place lay the scarf he’d taken from her hair. Sliding on his jeans, he moved to the ladder that led to the ground.

“No,” Marissa called from the water’s edge. “Don’t come down, Jefferson. I don’t think I could bear to leave if you do.”

“Don’t go,” he pleaded, though he knew it was futile.

Marissa didn’t answer. As he stopped short of the first rung, she turned to toss a stone into the pond. The water’s surface was calm before she spoke again. “This day and this place have been magic. So I thought the pond could be a wishing well. It was greedy of me, but I’ve made two wishes.”

“What did you wish, Marissa?”

When she looked up at him, her smile was bittersweet. “First I wished you wouldn’t forget me.”

Jefferson said nothing. It was a wish already granted. How could a man forget a woman like Marissa? “And the second?”

“The impossible.”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be, sweetheart.”

Her smile faltered. “You’re wrong, my beloved friend. Though I’ve wished with all my heart, how could we meet again?”

A knife in his heart couldn’t hurt as much. “Wishing wells grant three wishes. Will you wish again?”

“Yes.” The stone was already in her hand.

“Will you tell me the last?”

“Not this time. Not this wish.”

Jefferson didn’t pry. And though he knew what would follow the splash of the last stone, he wasn’t ready for it.

“Goodbye, Jefferson Cade.” Her voice was soft, her words halting. “I won’t forget you. I won’t forget this day.”

“Marissa.” He waited until she turned back, until their eyes met. “If ever you need me…I’ll come for you.”

“I know,” she acknowledged and turned away again.

He wanted to call out to her, to ask her again to stay. Instead, as silent as the wilderness, he watched her go.

At the far shore, she stopped and raised a hand. It was then the storm for which the land waited lashed out in a blinding bolt of lightning and a rumble of thunder. When the world was quiet again, the path was empty. Marissa had gone from his life.

Heavy rain was falling when Jefferson paused at the edge of the clearing. Through the downpour, his gaze sought the half-hidden bower where he’d made love to Marissa Claire Alexandre.

His sketch pad shielded by his body, a keepsake folded against his heart, he committed to memory this place. He would paint it, melding sketches and memories. Someday.

Rain fell harder, spattering over the pond like stones in a wishing well. “One wish is true, Marissa.”

Lightning flickered, thunder growled. As quickly as it came, the rain stopped. As a mist shrouded the land, Jefferson waited for one more glimpse that never came. It didn’t matter.

“I won’t forget.”

When he turned away, though the wilderness had been an abiding part of his life, he knew it could never be the same.

He wouldn’t come again.

One

“Well, hello, handsome.” The greeting, addressing the lone patron at the bar, was lilting and feminine. Teasing a favorite customer.

Setting his glass aside, a hand automatically going to his Stetson, Jefferson Cade smiled. A brush of his fingers tilting the tan brim accompanied a pleasant greeting as teasing. “Afternoon, Miss Cristal.”

As she laughed in pleasure at the Western gallantry spoken in a Southern drawl, Cristal Lane slipped her arm through his. “What brings a Southern gentleman like you into town today?”

In this land of old ranches and older family names, with time measured in half centuries, if not centuries, Cristal was counted as new to Arizona. But Jefferson considered the remark conversation, not a question, for she’d owned the most popular saloon in Silverton years enough to know the spring stock show held annually in the town attracted ranchers from miles around. As it had drawn him from the Broken Spur of Sunrise Canyon.

But Cristal was also familiar enough with his reclusive lifestyle to believe the show, itself, would not merit one of his rare visits. As she silently signaled for the bartender to refresh the drink he’d hardly touched, Jefferson wasn’t surprised when she suggested, quietly, “Someone must be offering a spectacular horse to tempt you from your hideout.”

“Think so?” Shifting his gaze from her, he nodded his thanks to the bartender, then folded his hands around the glass.

Her shrewd study drifted away to assess the needs of customers. Satisfied everyone was content, she looked again at the handsome Southerner, and inevitably at his hands.