James felt even hotter, and he tugged at his neckcloth. “Err . . .” was the only sound he could force out of his mouth. Not his finest reaction ever.
“Let me help,” said Julia, sliding toward him on the carriage seat. “I know you are very stylish, but there’s no need to be uncomfortable now that we’re alone. And it must be so scratchy to have that giant cloth around your neck all the time.” Small hands ministered to him, deftly undoing the intricate knots and folds of his neckcloth, and James groaned.
“Did I hurt you?” Julia asked, concerned. “Did I strangle you or something? I really didn’t mean to strangle you.”
“You didn’t,” James replied, his voice sounding very strangled indeed.
“Oh, good,” she said. With a laugh, she admitted, “I’ve never removed a gentleman’s clothes before.”
He cleared his throat and tried to speak, but no sound came out. He swallowed, then tried again. “Julia, that is not a proper comment for a young lady to make.”
“I was just joking,” she said, sounding defensive. After a pause, she continued, “Well, not really. I mean, it really was a joke in that I said it for humorous purposes, but it is also literally true.”
James sat in silence, trying desperately not to think of clothes being removed. His clothes, her clothes, his clothes being removed by her, her clothes being removed by him . . . no, it was no use; he simply couldn’t get the images out of his head. He groaned again.
The small sound, which he tried to stifle, seemed to inspire Julia to continue.
“I hope you know I would only say that to you.”
“Yes, well, I feel very comfortable making amusing comments around you as well,” he said stiffly. It was a lie, of course; he felt anything but comfortable. When was this cursed carriage going to get on its way? Desperately, he looked out the window, and the slanting moonlight showed him that he was still caught in a great snarl of traffic.
Wonderful. He obviously must have done something terrible without knowing it, because the Fates were tempting him viciously. He shifted as far away from Julia as he could.
But she spoke on, her words weaving a quiet spell. “No, I mean . . . I would only want you to hear me say such things. Things that are improper.”
Even in the moonlit darkness, he swore he could see the hot color rising in her cheeks. His groin tightened. What was she saying? Good God, how could this be happening to him? It was like a dream and nightmare at once, as her hand found his fingers and then his knee. And then began moving up his leg.
“You don’t know what you’re saying or doing,” he said huskily, removing her hand from his thigh but keeping it held in his clasp. “That’s the punch acting on you.”
“No, it’s not,” she insisted, her enunciation overly precise.
“Well, maybe it is a little,” she admitted, “but only because it let me tell you what I’ve been thinking for a long time.” She began to laugh raggedly. “I can’t believe I said that, though. Or touched you. I’m going to be so embarrassed in the morning.”
Her laugh trailed off, and she looked straight into his eyes. She withdrew her hand from his to press it firmly against her other hand, it seemed for courage.
“But right now I don’t care. I know I am just a silly country girl who says the wrong thing, and eats too much to be ladylike, and likes ton parties because they use beeswax candles, and gets impressed by stupid things like new gowns, and—oh, God—and you’re going to marry my sister.”
Her intense gaze dropped, and she rubbed her hands over her face impatiently. “I know you love my sister, and you’re going to be married. But I love you, and I think of you all the time, and I think of you in ways that I shouldn’t. And I didn’t intend for you ever to know, but it was just bursting inside me, and now I am glad I told you.”
“Julia,” he said softly, and his voice broke. He couldn’t go on. He had no idea what to say, anyway, so he simply took her hand back again, savoring the feel of her slim fingers in his. He felt as if his heart were breaking and being remade anew, both at the same time.
He tried again to speak. “Julia. I care for you very much. More than you know—”
She cut him off with an impatient gesture and again drew her hand back from his. “I know you do, but I don’t want brotherly love. I want real love. The kind of love that men and women are supposed to have for each other. The love people have in novels. Love like a husband and wife should have, and that I have for you.”
In a small voice, she added, “Louisa doesn’t love you like I do. She told me so. I probably shouldn’t have told you that either, though.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he repeated, unable to think of anything else in reply. Surely she didn’t know what she was saying. She didn’t, couldn’t, know what she was saying.
But she had said it. She loved him? And Louisa didn’t love him?
But . . . Julia did?
He had to take hold of himself.
“It doesn’t matter,” he continued in what he hoped was a firm voice. He strove for formality to keep a grip on his emotions.
“I am very flattered by what you say, of course. But Louisa has agreed to marry me, and that decision is irrevocable on my part regardless of my own feelings. I believe we will be compatible. And naturally, I have tried to make her love me, and I will continue to do so.”
There, that sounded good. He hoped.
“Oh, James,” she said, shaking her head, and he could see in the faintness of moonlight that her eyes were soft, her gaze so liquid and deep he felt as if he were sinking into it. “You didn’t even have to try to make me love you. I think I loved you the first time I met you, when I horrified you over the tea and biscuits at Stonemeadows and you teased me so kindly. It took me a while to realize it, but I have loved you always.”
Her words poured over him like a healing rain. He sat, stunned, his thoughts scattering in different directions. She loved him. He loved her. They could be together....
No. There was one thing he had to remember and hold on to.
“I have promised to marry Louisa.” He swallowed, but the lump in his throat wouldn’t go away.
“But do you love me?” she asked, her eyes huge and beseeching, and he felt the carriage jerk to a start at last. Its jolt echoed through him. His heart pounded as her eyes sought his in the moonlight, and heat spread throughout his body. He couldn’t stand this anymore; she was torturing him. It was sheer agony, yet it was the finest feeling he had ever known.
“Do you?” she asked again, leaning closer.
“Yes,” he whispered. “Yes.”
That was all she needed to hear, and all he needed to say. They slid toward each other on the seat as if drawn by magnets, and Julia eagerly reached to touch his face. She ran light fingers over the planes of his cheeks, his jaw, and she pressed feathery kisses onto his forehead. He shut his eyes in ecstasy, letting her do what she wanted with him, and his hands found the light folds of her gown and pulled her closer.
“You love me,” she repeated in wonderment. “I never dared hope.”
Then, being Julia, she began to babble. “I mean, I always hoped, but I tried not to. I tried not even to think of you in that way.” She sighed. “But I couldn’t help it.”
She kissed his eyelids, his cheeks, his neck, and the light touch of her hot mouth raised a flame inside of him. As his breathing began to quicken, he caught her chin in his hand, and finally, finally kissed her lips.
Her kiss was unpracticed but pure, and in it, James felt her love for him, and he poured all of his own. As her lips pressed softly against his, she moaned, and it was the most seductive sound he had ever heard. He swiveled to face her fully on the carriage seat, taking her face in both of his hands, and her lips parted under his to deepen the kiss. He sank into it, returning all her passion, willing her to feel all of the emotion he had bundled up and tried to hide for so long. The kiss intensified and held; his tongue stroked the inside of her lips light
ly, and he felt her shiver.
He slid one hand down her back, pulling her whole body to him, and he felt himself hardening as her breasts pressed against his chest. She moaned again as he pressed kisses down her neck and into the hot hollow of her collarbone. She leaned her head back to expose more of her neck to his kiss, and his feeling of need became almost unbearable as he took in the sight of her eager face, her willing form.
He couldn’t touch her enough; he couldn’t stop kissing her. He kissed every square inch of skin he could see, all over her face and her neck, and the sensitive skin of her inner wrists. She shivered and laughed, and he smiled at her, sending her all his heart in his eyes. He kissed her lips again, and this time she knew exactly what to do. The tip of her tongue stroked his, and she twined her fingers in his hair to deepen their embrace as his arms tightened around her in a thrill of excitement.
Good Lord, he had never felt such pleasure, even as a green boy. He was stunned by the force of it; he wanted more. He kissed and licked his way again down her neck, and she moaned again as his tongue reached the tops of her breasts. With just a little encouragement, he thought he could—he tugged lightly at the low neckline of Julia’s gown, and a whole, pearly breast peeked free. Julia drew in her breath sharply as his eyes hungrily took her in, and James was suddenly terrified she would ask him to stop.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked. It killed him to ask, but he asked.
“Never stop,” she whispered, staring him full in the eyes, and the love in her gaze struck him right in the heart.
He bent his mouth to her nipple, warming it first with his breath, and he smiled to himself when she shuddered with pleasure. He gently took the rosy tip into his mouth, licking and nipping lightly. She squealed at first at the unaccustomed sensation, but when he licked again, she relaxed.
“Oh, that’s lovely,” she said wonderingly, and this time he met her eyes as he smiled.
“It gets better,” he assured her, then hungrily, his mouth returned to her skin, savoring its silkiness, as he breathed in her scent. Again he drew her nipple into his mouth and flicked it lightly with the tip of his tongue. As it puckered under the caresses of his lips, her breath grew unsteady, and he began to enjoy the effect he was having on her. He focused all of his pent-up love and desire onto that nipple, rolling it between his lips, mouthing it softly, sucking it lightly until she arched in his grasp, gasping.
He continued to lick and suck her dainty skin, enjoying his effect on her. As she moaned, gripping his hair in her hands to hold him ever closer to her body, he was dimly aware of his own desire, that it had never, never been like this before. Never had he felt such joy, such love, such longing.
Suddenly, he awakened to himself. He felt as if he had been dashed with cold water, and a wave of shame washed over him.
He had to stop. He couldn’t do this. Not to her, and not to Louisa.
Regretfully, so regretfully, he pulled his mouth away. He averted his gaze as he tugged her gown back into place, though he wanted more than anything to drink in the sight of her skin one last time as he did so.
He shook his head, his thoughts still clouded with desire, but one idea was quickly coming into focus. He met her gaze, and the hazy look of arousal in her face was almost enough to break his resolve.
Almost.
“I’m so sorry, Julia,” he began, hating to see her expression change at once to one of hurt surprise. “I forgot myself. But I have to stop. I can’t do this with you. I shouldn’t have done any of this.”
She looked stunned, as if he had kicked her, and he hastened to explain.
“I love you so much,” he said, his throat tightening, his eyes lingering on her glowing skin and pale hair in the hints of moonlight that peeped into the carriage. “I never expected to fall in love, or to feel it so deeply. But I can’t be other than who I was raised to be, either. I have betrothed myself to Louisa, and I can’t go back on that promise.”
He drew in a deep breath to calm his pounding heart, and he continued, “And it would be dishonorable of me to compromise you, Julia. I can’t believe what I just did to you; I’m so sorry. You are a young lady of quality, and if I were free to marry you, I would rightfully propose to you this instant. But I must marry someone else, and eventually you must, too, and I musn’t take anything that rightfully belongs to your husband. I’ve already done far too much.”
His throat closed at the idea of Julia married to someone else. Kissing someone else. In bed with someone else. He felt sick.
Julia’s expression softened into one of resignation. “I understand, of course,” she murmured. “I knew it couldn’t be any different.”
Her voice broke, and she seemed to continue only with a supreme effort. “I’m glad I told you I love you, and I’m so glad to know you love me. But I always knew it couldn’t be any different. I . . . only hoped so. Somehow. I forgot myself, too.”
Her voice trembled at the finish. Slowly, she let out a deep breath, and added in a more normal voice, “Thank you for being a gentleman. If you were other than you are, I wouldn’t love you as I do.”
“We musn’t say those things to each other ever again,” James said desperately. “You have to forget I said that.”
“Oh, no,” Julia said, and now there were tears winking in the laughing eyes he loved so well. “I’ll never speak of it again, but I’ll never, never forget it.”
The carriage drew to a halt, and she heaved a shuddery sigh. “Home. Perfect timing, I guess.”
He strove for normality. “Would you like me to see you in? This late at night, it seems only right that I see you in.”
She smiled sadly at him and grazed his cheek with her fingertips. “Always a gentleman. Very well, see me to the door.”
As he helped her out of the carriage, James felt as if he were leaving a cocoon, another world. Already the embraces and the words that had passed between them seemed unreal as he breathed the cool night air again.
But it had been real.
But he couldn’t think of it.
But, he thought to himself, glowing just a little inside, it had been real. She loved him. She wanted him.
He smiled as he reached for the door knocker. He smiled as he wished Julia a very proper good night in front of the sleepy-eyed servant who opened the door to her. And he smiled all the way home, and through all of his preparations for bed, and until he was in his bed.
And then he realized again that he was smiling because he was in love with his fiancée’s sister, and he groaned.
Chapter 22
In Which Julia Must, Unfortunately, Face the Day
Morning seemed to Julia to dawn earlier and brighter than usual. When she awoke, her head felt heavy, and the sun glared into her eyes with unaccustomed harshness.
“Mmmph,” she groaned, holding her hand ineffectually in the path of the sun’s rays, and then putting a pillow over her face.
Ugh, she felt terrible this morning. She remembered James telling her she had drunk too much punch last night—was this what men felt like all the time after parties? Oh, her head pounded. She swallowed beneath the protective darkness of the pillow, trying to relieve the dryness of her mouth. She felt so tired. How had the ball at Alleyneham House gone last night? She couldn’t summon it to mind right now. She wished Louisa had been there so they could talk about the ball as they always did afterward.
Afterward . . .
She sat bolt upright, the pillow and the sun forgotten as she suddenly remembered what had happened after she drank the punch. And after the ball, in the carriage. The kisses, the touches . . . James had . . .
No, actually, she did not wish Louisa had been there last night.
She groaned again, clasping her head in her hands, and the pounding in her temples took on a new urgency. How could she have said those things to James? How could she have done those things with James? With James, who was going to marry Louisa?
Despite herself, she shivered to remember the carriage
ride home. It all began to come back—what she had told him, and how he had kissed her and told her he loved her.
He loved her. James, who was going to marry Louisa.
Julia shook her head. This was not good. This was the complete opposite of good. She hated to think of it as a bad thing, that the man she loved returned her feelings, but—honestly, with him engaged to her sister, what else could she consider it?
And what should she do now? She couldn’t possibly tell Louisa; it would crush her. No, the best way she could reward her sister’s trust was never to break it again. Which meant simply ignoring the fact that James loved her.
Was she really better off than before she had known?
“I have always been so, so stupid about him,” she mumbled to herself. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
A perfunctory knock sounded on her door, and Simone entered at once and dropped an equally perfunctory curtsy. “Good morning, mademoiselle,” she tossed over her shoulder as she began to tidy the post-ball clutter of clothes and hairpins around Julia’s room.
“No, it’s not a good morning, Simone,” Julia groaned. “And I’m not awake yet. Can you come back later?”
Simone continued tidying as if she had not heard. “I heard you talking; I knew that you were awake. I came in to arrange you before you speak to your sister. You should put on a dressing gown, too.”
Icy dread washed over Julia, and she felt the blood drain from her face. “Why should I speak to Louisa?” Surely she couldn’t know anything. Could she?
“And why should you not? You go to a ball last night; she wants to hear about it.”
“She . . . wants to hear about it?” Julia repeated feebly.
The maid turned and stared at Julia with a gimlet eye. “Why should she not?” she pressed. Then, noticing Julia’s stricken expression, she relented.
“I saw you come in last night, mademoiselle. I helped you into your bed. I know that something happened that was not ordinary, but your sister does not know. And if you do not want her to know, you need to look your most normal, but in the best possible way. Neat and well clothed. The mind follows where the appearance leads.”
Season for Temptation Page 19
