The Abduction of Julia

by Karen Hawkins

  Alec glanced down at his sodden appearance. “I need to change. It wouldn’t do for the old windbags to see me like this.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Burroughs bowed and withdrew.

  “What do the executors want?” Julia asked.

  “My thoughts exactly, love.”

  Love. She knew he said the word without meaning, a flippant caress he gave without thinking, yet her heart danced with excitement.

  “If I were to guess, they wish to reiterate the conditions of the will.” A bitter smile flickered for an instant before disappearing. “As though I need a reminder.”

  Julia almost winced. Thanks to Muck, Alec had received plenty of unpleasant reminders of his wedded state. “Perhaps I should accompany you. It doesn’t seem fair you should have to face such curmudgeons alone.”

  “I hardly think that necessary.”

  “A pity. I’ve never met an executor before. It might be interesting.”

  A smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “They aren’t elephants, love. They are just a bunch of philanthropists with no appreciation for the finer things in life.”

  Though his words were not directed at her, they stung nevertheless. Irked, she asked, “What do you mean by ‘finer things’?”

  Alec regarded her with a spark of amusement. “I mean those things that bring pleasure.”

  Her brow creased. “You mean happiness.”

  “No. I mean pleasure. Physical pleasure.”

  A delicious flood of pink swept her cheeks. “Oh,” she said. “That kind of pleasure.”

  With her bonnet askew, gloved hands clutching her reticule for dear life, Julia could not have appeared more innocent. Or more delectable. For some reason, he felt an absurd need to strip away her primness, to rattle her composure beyond their kisses—kisses that tortured him more than she would ever know.

  Alec’s control was thread thin and ready to snap at the smallest instance. Yet he could not stop dreaming of possessing her. He dreamed of her by night and burned for her by day. He took a step closer. “Tell me, Julia, what brings you pleasure?”

  She stepped away until her back was against the newel post. Twisting the cords of her reticule nervously, she regarded him with a wary expression. “Well…I had a maraschino jelly at the Comptons’ ball once that was quite nice.”

  Alec had to smile. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  Her clear green gaze fastened on him, sending a hum of warmth through him. “My Aunt Lydia said you were a man devoted to empty pleasures, the kind no honest woman should know about.”

  He wondered that she could make him laugh even as he burned with yearning. “I hate to tell you, love, but that wasn’t meant as a compliment.”

  “I didn’t think it was. Aunt Lydia never says anything nice unless she is speaking about Therese. Horrid woman, my aunt.”

  It always amazed him how dispassionately she spoke. Amazed—and, he admitted, not a little challenged. There she stood, calm and self-possessed, a confirmed virgin with no stain on her conscience. Meanwhile he, a blackened sinner, felt as if he were tied in a thousand knots, a prisoner of his own unbridled lust. How many times had he halted outside her door, wondering what she would feel like, writhing beneath him, her long legs locked around his waist as he took her to the heights of passion?

  The urge to punish her for the discomfort she’d caused welled within him and silenced the lonely voice of his conscience. Disregarding anything but his increasing desire, he closed the space between them until she had to tip her head back to meet his gaze. “Do you know pleasure, Julia? Real pleasure?”

  She gave a jerky nod, regarding the stair behind him as if planning her escape. “I have if you count maraschino jelly.”

  He reached out and captured one of her golden brown curls. The strands clung to the roughness of his hands like a silken net. “Pleasure is something far grander than maraschino jelly, love.”

  “Oh.” Her mouth trembled ever so slightly.

  Alec leaned forward until his mouth drifted a scant inch from hers. “Pleasure is so many things, Julia. A waltz on a balcony under the caress of the moon. The thrill of placing a bet you know will win.” His voice lowered. “The hint of mint in the air after a spring rain.”

  “Mint…spring rain,” she repeated. Her tongue appeared between her lips, running across the sensual slope and leaving a fascinating trail of glistening wetness.

  He brushed the back of his hand across her jaw, lingering on the curve of her neck. She swallowed, her graceful throat moving with the effort. As elegant as a swan, her every gesture resonated with economical beauty.

  “There is more,” he said, lowering his voice to a husky whisper.

  Her gaze fluttered upward. “I was afraid there would be.”

  The sensual heat in her eyes whispered to him of dark pleasures. He wondered how she would taste today. All prim and sugary? Warm and soft, like innocence melted with desire? Or would she surprise him with heated passion so raw and overwhelming that it threatened to consume them both?

  Heedless of his wet clothing, he pressed against her, allowing the evidence of his desire to rake along her hip. She gasped and he threaded his hand through her hair, holding her in place. Her scent wafted to him. “Pleasure, my sweet Julia, is the scent of lemons and cinnamon in a place you least expect it.”

  Tension flowed between their bodies like the tide at full moon. The rapid pulse that beat in the delicate hollow of her neck told him she felt it, too—and fought the urge just as he did.

  But why? Why fight such an attraction? Julia had denied him the physical release that would lessen his yearning. Perhaps she yearned as much as he. If he possessed any nobility of character whatsoever, he would do what he could to remedy both of their frustrations.

  Pleased with his reasoning, he smiled and cupped his hand over the smooth cream of her cheek. Cool and silken under his fingers, her skin warmed. He whispered, “The highest form of pleasure makes your heart thrum so hard, you wonder if it will expire from too much feeling, too much sensation. It is more than a kiss.”

  “More than a kiss? Heavens,” she said faintly.

  Behind her spectacles, her eyes seemed unfocused, her breathing rapid and shallow.

  Alec trailed his fingers along the line of her cheekbone just below the rim of her spectacles. “As you can see, maraschino jelly doesn’t even compare.”

  She closed her eyes and shivered, swaying toward him. Her breasts brushed his chest through the opening in his shirt, and Alec gritted his teeth. He was taking this much too far. He knew it, yet could no more stop than he could capture the sun.

  Julia clutched at the newel post with both of her hands, the hopelessly mangled reticule dangling between them. “You…you can stop now.”

  The husky tones of unrelenting desire trembling in her voice pulled him closer. “No, I can’t,” he answered, slipping her spectacles from her nose. She didn’t protest, her eyes fixed on his with silent pleading.

  “Julia, let me show you how delicious, how fulfilling passion can be. Please,” his voice slipped into a whisper, “come to my room.”

  Her eyes widened ever so slightly, her lips parting. “I—”

  “Pardon me, yer lordship,” came Johnston’s strident voice.

  Cheeks flooded with color, Julia clutched her reticule to her chest like a shield.

  Alec clenched his teeth as waves of intense frustration pounded through him. He fixed a fiery gaze on Johnston. “What?”

  The groom looked at the ceiling, his ears suspiciously red. “Burroughs said ye needed the carriage.”

  Julia’s gaze lifted to Alec. Her eyes glowed an incredible green, the black center expanded to a velvet sea of lingering desire. She silently pleaded for things she could not possibly understand. A twinge of conscience nipped at him and he scowled. What was he doing? Kisses were one thing. Seduction was something else.

  He turned to Johnston, guilt reducing his desire to a lonely ache. “Walk the horses u
ntil I have changed.”

  The groom nodded and left.

  Alec’s stomach knotted in frustration. He would gladly forgo breakfast this morning.

  From upstairs came a wild screech, and Julia cast a relieved glance at the landing. “Mrs. Winston needs some assistance.” Before he could stop her, she darted past him, racing up the stairs as if hell hounds nipped at her heels.

  Alec started to reach for her, but Mrs. Winston’s round face peering over the banister stayed him. He halted and scowled. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost think his servants had set themselves up as Julia’s protectors. A ridiculous thought, knowing how devoted they were to his interests, but one he couldn’t quite remove.

  He watched his wife ascend the stairs, her damp skirts clinging to her long legs with each step. His discomfort already beyond endurance, he remained where he was until she disappeared from the landing and into her room, the door closing with a soft thud.

  Alec let out a breath and slumped against the railing. Julia had burst into his life, forced him to the life of a monk, then transformed into a siren right before his eyes. He wasn’t a man used to being denied and was even less used to denying himself. He raked a hand through his hair. He was faced with the most damnable dilemma: his wife, every dewy, innocent inch of her, responded to his caresses like an avowed wanton, and yet he was honor bound not to proceed beyond a simple kiss.

  Had he any sense, he would cease demanding the daily kiss that had become sheer, agonizing torture. Alec stared up the stairs where his wife had just walked.

  But he would not relinquish his right to claim her lips. Not yet.

  Chapter 16

  To say that no one recognized Julia in her new finery would be a misstatement, but several people openly stared and at least one young couple came to a complete halt on the dance floor, mouths agape. A hum of excitement rose as the gossips pointed and whispered.

  “It appears we are the topic of conversation tonight.” Alec cast a quick glance over his shoulder. “Of course, we would be.”

  Julia followed his glance to where Muck followed in silent awe. Ferret-faced, with two great pointed front teeth and a thin nose that quivered like a rat’s, the child’s unattractiveness was made all the more memorable by a pair of ears several sizes larger than they should have been.

  Resplendent in a uniform of blue velvet, Muck was on his best behavior and had done nothing more irritating than asking nine or ten times in the carriage how long it would take them to arrive.

  Alec bent to Julia’s ear. “Nervous?” His breath stirred her hair and sent a shiver dancing down her back.

  She nodded but refrained from looking directly at him. She was weakening. For his sake as well as her own, she needed to keep some space between them.

  Somehow, she must show Alec the error of his wicked ways, how he wasted his innate talents on futile pleasure seeking. If only she could find a way to do it without succumbing to those pleasures herself.

  She nervously fingered the soft edge of her cashmere shawl. “Today was rather frantic, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, it was.”

  Something in his tone caught her attention and she cast him a quick glance, then instantly regretted it. Dressed in formal evening attire, a lock of dark hair shadowing his silver-gray eyes, he was as disturbingly handsome as an angel.

  Only he was no angel, she reminded herself. She could still hear his sensual voice, husky with meaning, as he described the earthly pleasures he so enjoyed. All he had to do was touch her and she melted like a pat of butter on a piece of well-toasted bread.

  Alec glanced over her head to the other side of the room and frowned. “Damn. There’s Nick.”

  Julia followed his gaze. Nick stood beside Therese, both looking as if they had just stepped from the pages of the fashionable La Belle Assemblee. Nick caught their eye and made an elaborate bow, murmuring something to Therese that caused her to laugh behind her fan.

  “One day,” Alec muttered, his jaw clenched. “One day he and I will settle our differences, once and for all.”

  “Why are you so against him?”

  Alec raised his brows and said coolly, “Surely Mrs. Winston has already told you about Nick. She seems to enjoy divulging family secrets.”

  Julia supposed it must be galling to have a servant repeat your every fumble and foible over cream cakes and tea. “She hasn’t gotten to Nick yet. She’s painfully chronological. The last time I spoke with her, you had just had your twelfth birthday and had infuriated your grandfather by kissing the milkmaid.”

  “Good God,” he replied, a startled look on his face. “Is it as bad as that?”

  “Oh, worse than you can imagine. She has to repeat every last detail.” Julia gave an exaggerated sigh. “I’d like to hurry her up a bit and get to the good parts, but I’m afraid she’d forget where she was and start over at the beginning.”

  He chuckled and her lips quivered in return. She was relieved they seemed able to put the tensions of this afternoon behind them. “I didn’t mean to offer you a setdown. I just wondered why you are so set against your cousin when he seems determined to garner your favor.”

  Alec’s brow creased. “He wants something.” After a long moment, he murmured, “It seems like a hundred years ago, but at one time I thought of him as a brother.”

  Julia looked from one to the other. Where Nick gleamed the gold of a newly minted coin, Alec’s dark looks fascinated and tempted. Yet they both had the same chiseled handsomeness, as if a master sculptor had crafted them from marble. “Except for your coloring, you look remarkably similar.”

  “Most people think us opposites.”

  Despite his casual tone, she detected an underlying bitterness. “What happened to cause such a rift between the two of you?”

  “Nothing that concerns you.”

  Julia lifted her brows at his clipped tone. “You might as well tell me now. Mrs. Winston will get to it sooner or later and heaven knows how she might exaggerate it. I’d hate to have to quiz you for the real story.”

  His mouth curved in a heart-stopping grin. “Wretch! It is a wonder someone hasn’t strangled you before now.” His amusement faded and he regarded her somberly. “Why do you wish to know about Nick?”

  “Because you keep warning me away from him. It would help if I knew why.”

  “There is no other reason?”

  “What other reason could there be?” she asked, surprised.

  “None, I suppose. And you are right. Mrs. Winston will eventually get to Nick and she does not know the whole of it.” He led Julia away from a large matron who seemed determined to intercept them. “When I was ten, my cousin came to live at Bridgeton House. Grandfather had discovered that his mother had left him behind with near strangers while she traveled to Europe with her lover.”

  “What a horrid woman!”

  “That’s not quite what my grandfather called her, but you are close. Nick had just turned thirteen and was furious at being brought to rot in the country.” He glanced at her. “Those were his words, not mine.”

  “He was angry at being left behind; a very normal reaction.”

  “Perhaps. I was just glad to have a companion, even a surly one. I followed him around like a pup. He’d done so much, traveled to so many places, while I had never been further than London.”

  “I felt the same about Therese when I first met her. It didn’t take me long to realize I was wrong.”

  “You, love, had the benefit of age and experience. I was a child and believed my dashing cousin infallible.” He paused. “For several months, it appeared all would be well. I think he even came to enjoy it there; Bridgeton House has its own charm. But then, a considerable amount of money disappeared from Grandfather’s study.”

  “Was it lost?”

  “Stolen. Apparently, I had erred in my estimation of my cousin. Nick was all too human.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Grandfather taxed him with the evidence. Nick did
n’t even attempt to deny it.” Alec stopped by a table and poured some lemonade into a crystal cup. “Of course, there wasn’t much he could say. He was guilty and we all knew it.”

  Julia absently accepted the cup. “Hmm.”

  Alec quirked a brow. “What do you mean, ‘hmm’?”

  “Just that it seems very unlike your cousin to admit to such a thing. He is far too clever.”

  Alec’s face darkened. “You seem to know Nick very well.”

  “I’ve seen him any number of times these past four years, though we’ve rarely had the opportunity to talk.” She glanced back at Muck and saw his eyes fixed in wonder at the huge chandelier that hung from the ceiling. She smiled and turned back to Alec. “What happened after your cousin admitted to stealing the money?”

  “Grandfather was devastated. Having opened his house to Nick and given him the benefit of his protection, he felt he’d been cruelly betrayed. Fortunately Nick’s mother had just returned from Europe. Grandfather ordered her to come and fetch him. They had a great row, for she didn’t wish to be burdened with him, either. But Grandfather was adamant and she took Nick to France with her the very next day.”

  Julia decided she needed to hurry Mrs. Winston along—she was missing all the important details. “The first time I met Nick, he had just returned from the Continent.”

  “We are blessed with his presence because his mother’s family was forced to flee from Napoleon’s troops.”

  Julia sipped her lemonade, grimacing at the sour taste. “Part of the French aristocracy, were they?”

  “Yes.” Alec took the cup from her hand and set it on the table. “Perhaps ratafia would be more to your taste.”

  Though Julia longed to pursue the topic, she could see Alec’s confidences were at an end. “No, thank you. How did your meeting with the executors go?”

  “They were surprisingly well reconciled to the fact that I married you and not Therese.”

  “I feared they might argue that point.”