Chapter Fifteen
You shouldn’t be here.
I knew that. Women didn’t visit men’s lodgings. If someone saw me here, I’d be a fallen woman. Not that, given that the few suitors I had were discarding me, I wasn’t already a fallen woman. If no one would marry me anyway, what would it hurt? My heart beat quicker as I rapped on the front door.
It felt as though an eternity passed before a trim, middle-aged butler answered. He frowned, disapproving. “May I help you?”
“Yes.” I smothered the urge to dance from foot to foot. My ankle wouldn’t thank me if I tried. “My name is Francine Annesley. I’m a friend of the marchioness.”
“I’m afraid Her Ladyship is not in Town.”
“No, but I believe her brother is. I’d like to speak with him instead.”
The butler looked dubious. “I don’t believe he’s at home at the moment.”
I gave him my sweetest smile. “Why don’t you check to make certain? He’ll want to see me.”
My heart hammered, but I tried not to show it. Let me in before I’m seen! My reputation might be in tatters regardless, but I didn’t want to bring further disgrace on my family if I could help it.
I held my breath as the butler’s lips tightened. After a moment that seemed to stretch into infinity, he stepped back and gestured for me to enter. “This way, miss. May I take your bonnet?”
After I handed him the article, he led me into the nearest parlor and offered me a cup of tea. I accepted and counted to ten after he strode away. The butler had no intention of looking for Julian. He would return in a few moments with my tea and inform me that Julian was not at home. For my own sanity, I hoped that Julian was here. I didn’t know if I could work up the courage to do this a second time.
You love him, don’t you?
I did. But asking him to spend the night with me was more brazen than I’d ever been. If I didn’t trust him, body, heart, and soul, I would never have considered it. My life as I knew it was coming to an end, and if I didn’t reach out and grab what I wanted for once, I would regret it.
Taking a deep breath to bolster my flagging courage, I slipped into the hall and raced up the stairs to the second floor. A twinge of pain jolted through my ankle with every second step, but I gritted my teeth and ignored it. When I reached the landing, I leaned on the wall and paused for breath.
Where would Julian be—the library? I peered into the doors along the corridor until I found it. The room was empty. It was early yet. Perhaps I could catch him in his room as he changed for supper. Where was his room? Not on the second floor; the only rooms I’d uncovered were the library, a feminine study, and parlors. I mounted the steps to the third floor.
“Julian?” I didn’t want to raise my voice too high in case the butler or another member of the staff heard and ejected me from the premises. “Are you up here?”
No answer. Perhaps he wasn’t in the house, after all.
I squared my shoulders. Since I was already here, I refused to quit so easily. I would search the rooms. Julian was the only member of the family in London, to my knowledge, so only one of the rooms would be occupied.
As I reached for the latch on the first door, one of the other doors opened down the line. “Francine?”
Julian stepped out. Judging by his hasty attire—clad only in his shirtsleeves, the garment hastily tucked into his breeches—it appeared as though I’d been correct in my guess. He must have been changing for supper or to go out for the evening entertainment. I’d caught him just in time.
Footsteps thundered on the stairs. Huffing, the butler erupted into the corridor and pinned me beneath a glare. I smiled sweetly at him. “Thank you for your assistance, but it appears I’ve found him perfectly well on my own.”
The butler’s face darkened. He turned to Julian. “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Beckwith. I attempted to bar her from entering. I will remove her posthaste.”
Julian lifted his hand. “No need. Miss Annesley is a dear friend of the family. It’s no intrusion. You may leave.” He stared down the butler until the man bowed and retreated down the steps once more.
I pressed my hand over my thumping heart.
Julian stepped closer to me. His shirt gaped open at the throat. I ogled that slight showing of skin before I raised my gaze to his.
He looked uncertain. “You shouldn’t be here.”
I flinched. I know that, but… “I wanted to speak with you.”
Liar. You wanted to kiss him.
“There are parlors downstairs.”
I met his gaze. “Here will do.” I glanced past him toward his bedroom. He’d left the door ajar, but from my angle I could see no more than the sliver of a bedpost in the room beyond.
“Francine…” His voice held a note that was halfway between a warning and a plea.
“I trust you.”
He sighed and rubbed his temple. “What are you thinking? If you’re found here…I can’t marry you. You know that.”
I bit my lip. “I know. I don’t want to marry anyone, Julian.” Not even you.
Was that still true?
I steeled my spine. It had to be. Marriage to Julian had never been an acceptable solution to my predicament. That wasn’t what I was asking from him.
“Can I sit down? My ankle is giving me grief.”
He stepped forward, offering me his arm to lean on as he led me into the nearest room—his bedroom. He shut the door behind us. The room, lit by a single candle, was dressed in dark colors. Brown, burgundy, a hint of green here and there. An armchair rested next to an unlit hearth. Julian helped me there, across from a wide four-poster bed. I licked my lips as I eyed that neatly made bed. The rest of his eveningwear was laid out along the foot. Would my courage fail me? Even if we were in his bedroom, I didn’t expect Julian to take advantage of me unless I asked.
I spent most of my life being a mouse. Maybe, just this once, I could be brazen. Relief swept through me the moment I lifted my weight off my ankle. The chair was more comfortable than it looked. I craned my neck back to meet Julian’s gaze. He had remained standing.
“I’ve always known this—whatever it is we have between us—is only temporary.” I wrapped my arms around my torso. “Eventually, you’ll return to your fiancée in Leicestershire and forget about me and I’ll—”
“Forget about you?” He paced the length of the room. “Never. That’s the bloody problem.” He dropped down onto the foot of the bed, covering his face in his hands. His voice was muffled, as he added, “I can’t hurt you, Francine. But it seems like no matter what we do now, I’m destined to hurt you.”
I’d never seen such vulnerability in a man’s eyes as I did when he looked up. “I love you, Francine, with all my heart. I can’t hurt you. I can’t lose you.”
His words stole my breath. I blinked back tears. “I love you, too.”
In a second, I crossed the room to kneel at his feet. I clasped his hands in mine, needing the contact. His palms were damp and clammy. I leaned up to press my lips against his, a brief, chaste kiss. He didn’t push me away. In fact, he leaned into my embrace.
When I broke the kiss, I sat back on my heels, still cradling his hands between mine. My ankle hurt, but I didn’t care. This was too important. “You won’t lose me. When you leave London, we’ll go back to writing letters. It’s been enough before.”
It would have to be enough. I didn’t want to contemplate the heartache otherwise.
“Give me tonight,” I begged. “Just one night.”
He took my mouth in a fierce kiss. His fingers delved between the loose strands of my hair, pulling me closer, as if he never wanted to let me go. He said with that kiss everything I wished he’d say out loud. That we were meant for each other. That I was his, wholly and forever.
Even if forever only lasted tonight.
He kissed me with all the passion, love, and hope that existed in this world. My head spun from the zealousness of his kiss. There was a desperate edge to it, as though I might disappear at any moment. I clung to him just as fiercely.
Standing, he scooped me into his arms. When he deposited me on the bed, I tugged him onto the mattress with me, shuffling to the side to make room. He stretched his body alongside mine, warming my left side. He cupped my cheek as he melded his mouth to mine in the sweetest of kisses.
It soon turned wicked. He lowered his hand from my cheek to my breast. My nipple hardened against my dress and his palm, begging for his touch. I arched into him, letting myself be wanton. With him, it wasn’t embarrassing or shameful. Julian wouldn’t judge me or find me distasteful. He loved me and I loved him. I refused to restrain myself or regret a single second. Breaking away from the kiss, I fumbled to unlace his shirt further.
“Francine.” My name emerged as a groan on his lips. He shook his head. “You drive me mad.”
I smiled. “No more mad than you drive me.”
He batted my hands away and swiftly undid his laces, though he left the shirt on. My gaze roved along his muscled torso as I catalogued all the places I soon would kiss. I reached behind me to unlace my dress. The maneuver thrust out my breasts but still didn’t leave me with enough leverage to unknot the laces.
Julian’s gaze grew dark with desire. He snaked his arm around my waist and pulled me flush against him. His swollen manhood prodded my thigh. With a lascivious grin, he lowered his head to my breast. He tongued my nipple through the thin muslin of my dress.
My knees weakened with the sensation. When his teeth scraped my hard peak, I thrashed against him. Wanting—no, needing—more. “Julian,” I gasped.
He turned me. I fell onto my hands and knees as he fitted himself behind me to undo the laces himself. Once he got the knot free, he tugged them loose with one hand while the other slid around my side to knead my breast. He tugged aside my stays and chemise to reveal my skin beneath. He lavished hot, openmouthed kisses to every inch of my spine he revealed. When he reached the small of my back, his tongue darted out to pay special homage. I moaned, writhing against him. I hadn’t known my back could be so sensitive.
He tried to dip lower, but the fabric of my dress stopped him. It strained against my arms where the sleeves still clung. Julian swore as he draped himself over my body once more, his shirt scraping against my bare back and inducing shivers. He rubbed his hands over my arms, removing my sleeves. I shifted to help him.
On my knees, I turned to face him once more. We exchanged feverish kisses as he chased my dress and underclothes over my torso to my waist, leaving me bare. His hand gravitated to my breasts, which he cupped and kneaded every bit as vigorously as the hand that slid to my bottom. I pressed against him, trying in vain to get closer.
His shirt barred me from experiencing the warmth of his skin. I tugged it from the waist of his breeches. He retracted his hands to shuck the fabric over his head. I bent, attacking the fall of his breeches.
He moaned. His fingers tangled in my hair, holding me in place as I freed the last button of his fall. He pushed the breeches down over his hips, freeing his member to the air. He stripped off the remainder of his clothes, pushing them to the floor. Then he kneeled, stark naked, in front of me.
I couldn’t take my eyes off his thick, engorged manhood. It jutted from his muscled body at a perpendicular angle, almost falcate in its downward curve. A pearly drop of liquid gathered at the tip. Oh my. The anatomy books didn’t do the male organ justice. At least, not the ones I’d read. I met his hot gaze. His breath came in ragged pants. He was every bit as affected by our shared passion as I was.
He urged me backward onto the bed. I went willingly, lifting my hips when he bent to strip me of my clothes. He left me without a stitch, not even my stockings. I blushed as he settled his warm weight over me.
“You don’t mind my freckles?”
“Mind?” He kissed me deeply, delving his tongue into my mouth. I met him stroke for stroke. He broke away, his chest heaving. “Francine, if I had the patience, I would kiss every last mark.”
I squirmed at the thought.
He kissed me again as he wedged his hand between my legs. My first instinct was to clamp my thighs shut, but he massaged my sensitive inner skin with small whorls until I opened to him. As he skimmed his hand higher up my thigh, he kissed his way down to my breast.
“Julian,” I panted. “What are you doing?”
He slid his index finger into my core, running his tongue around my nipple at the same time. I moaned at the hot, wet, intense sensation. Every last nerve ending begged me to get closer to him. He raised his head.
“I’m pleasuring you.”
He slid his thick finger from my core and replaced it with two. The sensation was overwhelming. I arched my hips off the mattress, panting.
“What about you?”
“I’ll take mine when you’re ready.”
I wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that, but I surrendered to his ministrations. He set a vigorous rhythm, massaging me inside and out until I could focus on nothing but his touch. Nothing else mattered, not even my next breath. He slid three fingers into my core, stretching me.
“I love you, Francine,” he whispered against my skin. I was too far gone to answer.
I moaned in protest when his fingers dropped away. He eased his weight onto me, spreading my thighs with his knee. He positioned himself at my entrance and slowly, achingly, slid inside. I squirmed, trying to meet him, to welcome him deeper, to urge him faster.
He groaned. “You feel so good.”
So do you. I wanted to speak the words aloud, but they were lost in the incredible sensation of our joined bodies.
He buried himself the rest of the way with a single, sharp thrust.
I gasped. That hurt.
He kissed me deeply. My body clasped him in the most intimate embrace two bodies could share. When I writhed my hips once more beneath him, he set a furious pace. I chased his withdrawals and moaned as he thrust deep again. He hooked his arm beneath my knee, drawing it higher and changing the angle at which we joined. With every plunge of his manhood, he nudged a spot inside me that radiated pleasure so hot, I couldn’t think. My muscles tensed. Desire coiled in my belly. I wrapped my free leg around his waist, clutching him to me and digging my fingers into his shoulders as spasms rocked my core. I cried out, seeing stars.
Julian moaned my name and buried himself deep inside me.
I held him tight to me as I slowly descended to reality once more. My bent knees ached from the prolonged position. I stretched them out slowly. Julian’s breath fanned my neck, raising goose bumps.
I gave a long, heartfelt sigh of bliss. “That was better than I could ever have imagined.”
“Incredible.”
He withdrew from me only to position himself on his side. He nestled me against him. His hand snaked over to my belly, anchoring me there.
“Don’t leave,” he whispered.
The longing in his voice chased an ache through me. I shut my eyes against the tears that beckoned. “I won’t.” Not yet, at least.
I would have to leave, eventually. However, neither of us wanted to contemplate our inevitable parting. How had life been so cruel to us?
“I made someone a promise, one that can’t be absolved. If there was a way…” His voice cracked. He didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he held me close, his heart beating fast against my shoulder.
He didn’t have to speak the words aloud. I knew what he would say. If there was a way to break off his engagement, he would marry me.
Opening my eyes, I stared at the wall as my mind whirled. There had to be a way.
I couldn’t fathom a life apart from him.