Chapter Eight
They ran like children along the stone path up to the servants back door. It was unlocked and Julian thrust it open, pulling her inside.
“Come. Here’s the kitchen. No fire, but it’s warm and dry. Sit there.” He looked her over. “You’re drenched. Hell.”
He took four huge strides, disappearing into another room and clanging about. If he kept up that racket, the whole house would soon be awake.
She rubbed her arms, grateful to be out of the storm, but wary of servants who might have been roused.
When he returned, he had his hands full of toweling.
Grateful to be rid of the blanket that smelled of horse, she shrugged it off and folded it. He hurried to wrap a large towel over her head.
She giggled. “You could wake the dead the way you scoured that room.”
“My housekeeper is quite deaf.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Not at all. She’s never been quick to any sound.” He scrubbed her head with too much dedication.
“Ooof.” She picked up a corner of the towel to glare at him.
“Sorry. You need to dry your hair.” He rubbed her scalp.
She clamped her fingers around his wrist. “If you don’t stop, sir, I’ll be bald!”
“Sorry.” He bent to peer at her. “Take off your jacket.”
She balked. She had removed her corset for this adventure and if she took off her jacket, it would be apparent that she was a rather loose woman. In more ways than one. “Ah. I don’t wish to. Unless… Do you have anything to replace it?”
“Not yet. I will.” He dropped another towel around her neck.
“Splendid. I’ll wait.”
“No. You will not.” He began to pick at the buttons on her coat.
She slapped his hands away. “Stop that.”
“You do it then. I’ll not have you die of cold at the risk of a layer of clothing.”
She clutched her stock to her throat. And true, it was wet, but she had few choices here. “It’s not just any layer.”
Confusion over took his brow. “What?”
“Can you please find me another coat?”
“I will if you promise to begin to unbutton that now.”
She tsked. “Hard bargainer.”
He stood. “I’ll be back with brandy and when I do, you’ll have that jacket off.”
“Fine, fine.” Fretting over that, she undid her last two buttons. Beneath it, the cold cotton of her blouse was damp. Under that, her skin was ablaze with the delicious nature of her predicament. But what Julian didn’t know was a good thing. “Hurry, please.”
He left her, ran up the steps and away. In the silent house, she marveled that no one had yet heard them. How many servants did he have? And were they all deaf?
She shrugged out of her jacket, covering her wet blouse and her beading nipples with the ends of a towel. Shivering in the damp cotton and trying to focus on how soon she’d be warm didn’t work.
Julian returned within minutes, a large coat in one hand and a man’s shirt—his?—in the other.
“I can’t wear that.” She had admired his form, his broad chest, his muscular build. He was fit, firm, a marvelous example of manhood, but she was more than adequately endowed. And his shirt, tailored as it was, would not adequately cover her attributes.
“Why not?” He held it up. “Perfectly fine linen. Clean.”
She ground her teeth. “It won’t fit.”
“Of course, it will.” He quirked a brow. “Oh. Um. Won’t it?”
He had this odd expression on his face which by infinite degrees turned to recognition and then, he laughed.
She tapped her foot on the stone floor. “You’re not helping, dear sir.”
Still chuckling, he stepped toward her and put his hands around her waist to draw her to her feet. “I see that. I am sorry.”
She couldn’t help but cuff him. “Take me back.”
“Wet?”
“As I am, yes! Now.” She took his hand and marched them both toward the window.
But lightning streaked the sky and a loud boom shook the house.
She lurched backward.
Against his all too solid chest.
He embraced her, one hand in her hair, one cupped her nape and the lure of his warmth was irresistible. She sank against him, reveling in his support. He was assurance and beneath his riding pants, he was aroused.
She didn’t want to move or even breathe. Could he find her attractive? Still? Even though she’d told him at the opera to ignore her? He certainly did find her company appealing. Much as she’d always declared she’d never tolerate a man as demanding as her father, she liked a man with a mind of his own. This man.
“I like you,” she told him astonishing herself for saying what she felt for him.
He trailed his fingers up into her hairline and turned her head toward him. “Do you?” he asked, his voice wistful. “God knows I like you.”
Her heart did a little jig. “Now, I know, too.”
“We are neither of us very clever.”
“But honest.”
“Lily,” he said her name, a plea more breath than sound. “Lily, darling. Shall we be more than honest?”
“Oh, Julian.” In the dim light, she could make out the fire in his beguiling eyes. To wait any longer to taste him would be a waste. Casting caution to the wind, she swung totally into his embrace and pushed up on her toes. She slid her arms around his shoulders, the towel falling to the floor, and with only hot urgency between them, she said, “Yes, let’s be.”
He’d be damned for this tomorrow. But tonight, she wanted him and he had this ravenous need to possess her before she decided she was wrong.
He crushed her against him. Never had he wanted any woman’s lips on his more than hers. Never had he hungered for anyone with more thoughtless urgency. And against his chest, he felt the wealth of her breasts. Unbound as they were, her bosom flattened against him. Her nipples went rigid and he forced back a groan. She’d come to him very freely. Natural. Trusting.
Was he as trustworthy as she presumed? With any other woman, that answer would have been no. With any other woman, he would have been greedy, opportunistic. With any other woman—any woman whom he would meet in the dark for an illicit rendezvous—he would not hesitate to capitalize on her lack of virtue. With this one, he would not dare to offend her. More, he couldn’t disappoint her—or himself.
He cupped her cheek. He brushed her lips with his own. He held her tenderly and then he took her. All she offered. All she was.
Her lips. Plush, soft and needy. Answering him with a new kiss. This one more urgent, desperate.
He fell backward against the wall, bracing himself to hold her and not let her go. He needed one kiss, gentle, beseeching. And another, that turned fierce, then raw.
He caught her up to pull her with him to a chair. He had to sit before his knees gave way. How he found one, he’d no idea. He only knew she was in his lap and he had his hands full of her, her sculpted back, her slim shoulders, her firm breasts. Her bountiful breasts that he knew for certain stood tall and plump without aid of any corset. Against the wet cloth, he thumbed her pinpoint nipples. She let her head loll back and he bent, mad to please her, and suck one taut areola, soft cloth and fragrant flesh, into his mouth. With a cry, she dug her nails into his shoulders as he bit her nipple and moved to lave the other.
She had come to him carefree and he was a cad to ravish her so. But his hunger was painful and her surrender too compelling to refuse.
She wiggled, kissing him without restraint. Her bottom pressed down against his. He groaned, certain she had no idea how she lured him on. He couldn’t stop to tell her. More fool he.
He arched her up so that he could take more of her marvelous breast into his mouth. With an avid tongue, he stroked her. She undulated, her nails now talons in his skin. With his teeth, he nipped her. She shuddered and he quaked, recognizing her feminine plea for more of this. More of him. He’d be an idiot not to give it. He’d be a devil to enjoy it. But he had to stop.
Stop now.
She deserved a bed. And he would do her justice only in a broad one.
He shut his eyes. Curled her against him. Her taut, ready body, pliant in his arms. He shouldn’t want her. But the rage to take her ran through him like molten lead. He couldn’t have her another time. Another night. Not unless he—of course—married her.
Could I?
He stared at her. She was wide-eyed, as stunned by their passion as he was.
She was his beauty, his lovely Lily, and he meant to seduce her, ravish her, enjoy her. Lily, Lily, she was his flower. Fresh, wild, charming. Lily.
He knew what had thrilled her. His taste of her had destroyed all her own reason along with his. “Darling, that should—”
She slanted a finger across his lips.
“I need more,” she whispered and thrust her hand in his hair, kissing his eyes, his cheeks and mouth with furtive need.
He stilled her, a thumb at the corner of her mouth, his tongue sliding inside to seduce hers. She was a willing partner, that rare woman who could match him in appetite. Virgin that she was, she had more enthusiasm for the sport than most. He welcomed the chance to teach her more about the pleasures of love than she anticipated.
Moaning, she pushed away. Put a hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she murmured and shot from his lap.
He caught her by her wrist. “Don’t go. Please.”
She stood, kneading her fingers, her eyes flicking from him to the door, a trapped animal. “That was— You must not tell.”
“I won’t.”
“Papa would skin me.”
“No, never.”
She nodded, frightened. “Yes. It’s our bargain, you see.”
He gave a shake of his head. “I don’t understand.”
“If I’m ever caught out being improper, he’d demand I wed immediately. To one he names.”
“I do doubt that.” Killian Hanniford would not throw away this lovely flower on anyone. Julian tugged her into his arms and cradled her head against his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to control his desire for her but loving the pride of protecting her. With a shaking hand, he petted her hair. “Sweet girl, you’re fine. You’re safe. Don’t quake. I won’t hurt you. Wouldn’t. I promised you.”
She sniffed, her face in his jacket, her words muffled. “But I didn’t.”
Confusion filled his feverish mind. “Didn’t what?”
She lifted her face and his heart dropped. She had tears in her eyes. “I didn’t promise to be good. And now look what I’ve done. I’m a reprobate.”
Oh, her torture tore at him. He put his palm to her cheek. “Lily, you’ve only kissed me.”
She shot to her feet, pivoted away and rolled a shoulder. “I’ve mauled you.”
“Darling, no,” he said with compassion for her embarrassment and pulled her lithe body nearer. “That fault is mine.”
She blushed so wildly he saw her face redden in the dim light of the kitchen.
He caught her chin and tipped her face up toward his. “I owe you the apology, Lily. And I am sorry. I should not have—”
“Please don’t. Don’t take it back.”
God, he loved her pluck. “I must. A gentleman does and I was rash.”
An impish light shone in her eyes. “The two of us, rash together?”
He ran his hand up her arm, wrapped his other arm about her waist and positioned himself flush against her. Whether from embarrassment or distress or damp clothes, she shivered. He put his lips to the crown of her head. “I enjoyed every second of our kisses.”
She groaned and shook her head, burying her face in his riding jacket. “More than.”
So much more. And worth every transgression. Even if now he must decide what those very acts implied. He planted his lips in her fragrant hair. “Dear Lily. You’ve done nothing more than I and I wouldn’t call myself a reprobate.”
She snorted.
He wished he could see her face, but he didn’t want to push his luck here. Not when he had a point to make. He resumed stroking her hair down her back. “I’ve wanted to kiss you, Lily, ever since I first saw you in bright sunlight in the Rue de la Paix. I concluded that my desire to do that was a whim, a bit of lust. I told myself my need would die if I no longer saw you, was nowhere near you to be tempted. But I’ve learned where you go, whom you visit. And I could not resist the lure. I’ve seen you. I’ve come near you, Lily, I’ve talked with you, laughed with you, ridden with you in the moonlight and my need to kiss you hasn’t died.”
She stopped shaking.
He cuddled her closer. “It’s become stronger. A living, breathing beast of a thing.”
She raised her face and her lips parted. He’d dare to say she was awed.
He’d awe her more if he could. “To know that you want me, too, was more than gratifying. It was exciting. I won’t tell anyone. We’ll return to the party and all day tomorrow, this will be our secret. Eh? What do you say?”
“You’d do that?”
“I tell you there’s no benefit in me telling anyone.” When I want you for myself.
She tried to laugh. “You’re not such a roué after all if you don’t want the world to know you ruined me.”
He sucked in air. “Well, first of all, I’m shocked I’m put at the level of a roué. My life has not been unblemished but still, my pastimes go more to cards than ruining American ladies who’ve done nothing more than kiss me.”
“I did more than that. I climbed into your lap and—and—”
Thrilled me. “Met me kiss for kiss.”
“Oh, don’t.”
He wrapped her closer, his arms tight about her. “Don’t worry, darling. We’re fine. You are. And no one will know. Not tonight or ever after. And that means that tomorrow night, we can ride again.” He pulled away, gazing down at her as if he were merely a long-lost friend. “You want to ride again properly tomorrow night, don’t you?”
She straightened up, nodding and smiling. “Oh, you know how to talk me around, don’t you?”
“I do hope so.” Might you agree with me on all matters?
She tipped her head. “Listen. The rain has stopped.”
“See that? The world is right again. You and I will run back to Carbury’s. No one will be the wiser.”
* * * *
“I’ll take your riding clothes to warm in the sun, Miss Hanniford.” Her maid was a prune-faced English woman whom her father had hired four weeks ago. She had an eagle eye and the disposition of a fox. Lily didn’t trust her entirely, but hoped to earn her loyalty. The woman flung Lily’s damp garments over her arm. Her brown eyes held no expression, but the way she peered at Lily told her she wanted an explanation. For any confidence, the maid would have to wait a few weeks.
“Thank you, Nora.” Lily rose from her dressing table, every hair in place, ready to face those in the breakfast room. Even Julian. Especially Julian.
“And I’ll clean your boots, too, shall I?”
“Please do,” she said with nonchalance.
The woman knit her bushy brows. “Will you be needing them this afternoon?”
In too good a mood to be cowed, Lily grinned at her. “I doubt that, Nora. Do dry them out well, will you?”
“Yes, miss.” She ambled toward the door and when she opened it, there stood Marianne.
Lily waved her in. “Good morning.”
Marianne noted the items in Nora’s arms and waited until the servant closed the bedroom door. “Is there something wrong with your riding clothes?”
Preserve me from coincidences that give me away. “No.”
Marianne wrinkled her nose. “Wet wool smells.”
“Hmm. Yes. Perhaps it does.” She stood and straightened the belt at her waist.
“You’re being glib.” Marianne put her hands on her hips.
“Am I? I don’t know why.”
“I wish I did.”
No, you don’t. “Let’s have breakfast, shall we?”
“Where were you last night?”
“Here.” Tossing and turning, reliving kisses. “Sleeping.”
“You were not.” Marianne shook her head at her. “I was here. I know.”
Lily huffed. “Caught. Wonderful. Very well, I went out. Riding. And I had a marvelous time, too.”
“With whom?”
Lily pursed her lips. “No one.”
Her cousin hooted.
Lily felt her cheeks flame. She’d have to get better at subterfuge. Certainly to get out tonight, she’d need to. “You mustn’t let on. It was innocent fun.”
“And you got caught in the rain.”
“Yes. Yes, I did. I was cold. I was freezing. And the whole incident was glorious. So do not yell at me.”
Marianne’s face glowed in delight. “Why would I do that?”
Lily was flummoxed. It was her turn to put her hands on her hips and stare at her cousin. “Aren’t chaperones supposed to be dastardly?”
“And spoil your fun? I suppose. But if you like him—”
“I do.”
“I thought you didn’t. Not at first.”
Lily lifted her shoulders. “I was more afraid of—I don’t know—marriage, marrying the wrong man, being courted for Papa’s money.”
“And now you’ve given in?”
“No. I see other possibilities.” She walked to the window and looked out over the garden toward the stable block. In the brilliant sunlight, all she envisioned was immaculate dark masculine creature who’d held her in his arms and kissed her as if she were precious. “I like him for himself. We get on together. It was his idea to take me riding last night. And I loved the freedom of it.”
“As long as he’s a gentleman about it, I suppose, no harm can come of it.”
“None did.”
Marianne strode around to face her and her smile was rueful. “You have a look about you that says there was more to the evening than rain and riding.”
Lily wiggled a brow and headed for the door. “Perhaps there was. But I’m not telling.”
“So there’s no need for Uncle Killian to load his shotgun?”
Lily broke into laughter. “None.”
“Well, then, let’s have our breakfast.” Marianne scurried to catch up with her. “One question, though.”
“Of course. What?”
“Did Nora help you remove your corset last night?”
“She did.”
“So the one I saw on your bed was the one she helped you remove?”
“That’s two questions,” Lily noted.
Marianne rolled her eyes. “Which means that when you went out last night—?”
“I didn’t wear one.”
Her cousin’s mouth fell open.
“I assure you without it, I wasn’t cold.” Lily patted her arm as they descended the stairs.
Marianne stumbled, nearly missing a step, but laughing in spite of herself.
* * * *
In the breakfast room, Carbury and Julian lingered over coffee and their newspapers. When Lily and Marianne appeared in the doorway, both men rose. Carbury looked beyond them, searching for Lady Elanna, Lily surmised. And Julian appeared strained. Lily hoped whatever distressed him was not anything about last night’s midnight ride.
Carbury regained his seat while one footman attended to Marianne’s chair.
Julian came round to hold Lily’s and as he scooted it under her, one finger touched her shoulder. A caress brief and light as an angel’s wing.
“Did you sleep well?” Julian asked the ladies, his gaze drifting to Lily.
Marianne and she agreed as the footman hovered to offer them tea or coffee.
Julian, who had a chair to Carbury’s right, regained his seat and folded away his newspaper.
“What news this morning?” Lily asked him while the footman poured her coffee. Julian was not a man to move rapidly, but purposely and his readiness to put it aside concerned her. “Anything we should know of?”
“The usual.” Carbury shook his head. “The government debates a trade bill.”
“We should have fine weather today,” Julian offered with a twinkle in his eye. “Not a cloud in the sky.”
“The rain we had last night,” Marianne said, “cleared things up, wouldn’t you say?”
Lily gave her a kick under the table.
Julian sat without expression, his notice drawn by their interplay. “I agree. So then. Croquet, perhaps, on the lawn?”
“No cards?” Lily teased.
One of his dark brows dipped low. “So early in the day, Miss Hanniford?”
“No gambling before noon?” She was into the joke now and tsked. “In Texas, any time of day is good.”
Carbury scowled. “You can’t be serious.”
Marianne put down her cup, quirking a brow at their host. “Survival demands you amuse yourself through an Indian raid or a tornado.”
Lily nodded at Julian as if to say, So there.
Julian looked incredulous. “Tell me you haven’t done that.”
“Played poker during a tornado? Yes, I have. You’ve never shaken so hard in your boots until you’ve heard a whirlwind rip through your town and lift up barns and cattle and throw them down hundreds of feet away.”
Julian stared at her. “I say, you’ve been through the worst circumstances.”
Carbury shook his head as if he didn’t believe her. “Incredible.”
“And Indian raids?” Julian asked her.
“Most of our Indians—Apaches they were—fled west before the war, so playing poker during a raid is a tall tale old cowboys tell. And Marianne, too.” She winked at her cousin.
Marianne chuckled and paid attention to her coffee.
“But both of us play to win.” Lily twitched a brow at him. “Still want to give us a turn?”
He laughed heartily. “I look forward to learning new tricks.”
“After breakfast, then?”
“It’ll be my pleasure,” he said.
“Say that after you’ve lost to Lily, my lord,” said Marianne. “I think I’ll examine the side board. You?” she asked Lily with a bat of her lashes.
“You make me sound like a cardshark.”
Rising to her feet, Marianne nodded to Julian as if they were conspirators. “She is. Never doubt. And you, dear sir, are in for it. Do not take your purse.”
“She’s that good?”
Marianne closed one eye. “Better.”
He chuckled. “I love a challenge!”
“Oh, good morning!” Carbury shot to his feet, wiping his mouth, perky as an eager swain as Julian’s mother and sister walked in. “Your Grace. Lady Elanna. Delighted to have you. Delighted.”
Julian followed with greetings to his mother and sister. The two were seated at the table, with Elanna invited to sit to one side of Lord Carbury.
As Lily followed Marianne to the breakfast service on the sideboard, she could not mistake Elanna’s thin smile to the older man. Their banter was hollow. Elanna’s responses lacked emotion.
If theirs was to be a marriage, Elanna would be less than half a partner. Carbury might even think he had desire enough for both of them, but Lily doubted that was a proper match. Did Julian see it? She looked around and her gaze met his. He had seen, he did note and he did not like it.
Good. Still, Julian could not save Elanna from Carbury’s quest. Not for long.
Meanwhile, the Duchess of Seton stared at her daughter, willing her with glittering eyes to mend her ways.
Elanna sniffed, lifted a shoulder and offered an ounce more enthusiasm into her conversation with Carbury.
Lily returned to her chair, sat and put her fork and knife to good use. On Carbury’s orders, Elanna and her mother were served their breakfast by the footman. The ladies remained in their seats, as Carbury rattled on about God knew what.
Lily ate her breakfast with silent dedication. Aware of Julian’s eyes on her, she listened to a polite discussion between Elanna and her suitor. They did not agree on politics or horses, flowers or colors best to complement her complexion. He liked Bach. She preferred Chopin. He liked Ivanhoe. She loved Frankenstein. It was as if they dueled and bloodying the other was the only way to survive the morning meal.
Lily had seen arguments between her parents, but nothing as contrary as this. Elanna meant to wound him. Carbury meant to dominate her.
Julian frowned at the discourse. “I wonder, Elanna, if you’d like to learn how to play poker?”
“Poker?” She looked as startled as if he’d saved her from drowning. “Why?”
He leveled an appraising eye at her. “Miss Hanniford is about to teach me. I thought you’d enjoy it. After you finish your eggs. What do you say?”
“I was hoping,” Lord Carbury said to Julian, “Lady Elanna would consent to talk with me in the salon.”
“Oh, I see. Well, Elanna, your choice.” Julian emphasized that last.
The duchess cleared her throat.
But Elanna snapped her gaze from her mother to her brother. With a flutter of gratitude, she shook her head. “Thank you. Another time, perhaps. I thought I’d go talk with Lord Carbury, you understand.”
“I do,” Julian said with some grace and much disappointment in his voice.
“A fine choice,” said the duchess as she picked at the bits on her plate.
The butler appeared in the doorway. “Pardon me, my lord, but the Duke of Seton has arrived.”
Carbury beamed, put down his napkin and got to his feet. “Delightful! Please tell him I wish to speak with him. Say, an hour.”
“I will, my lord. Please know, too, we have another visitor who has arrived in his own carriage. Mister Killian Hanniford.”
“Show him to his room,” said Carbury.
“Yes, sir.” The butler turned to Julian. “Lord Chelton, your father, His Grace, asks to see you in the library.”
Julian frowned. Bad timing and a foretaste of ill omens whenever his father appeared at a country party. “Really? But very well. Excuse me, won’t you? And Miss Hanniford, I’m afraid our card party will have to wait.”
Lily took the news of her father’s arrival with pleasure. But something about the Duke of Seton’s appearance disturbed Julian.
“I’ll take a walk in the garden instead,” she said. “Perhaps this afternoon will be a better time to play.”
Julian gave her a compassionate smile. “It will.”