“Feel better?” he murmured.
“Yes,” she said. “Actually marvelous.”
“You mustn’t push yourself to the point of exhaustion. There’s no call for it.”
“That feels wonderful,” she said.
He worked the muscles of her back, realizing she wore short stays. Having undressed countless women, he knew this meant there was no busk. One less hindrance, the devil inside him whispered.
The tiny hooks on the back of her gown tempted him. He imagined releasing them and sliding the garment, along with the straps of her stays and chemise, down her arms. Then he would draw her against him, pull down the soft stays, and cup her breasts. Slow heat settled in his groin as he pictured her nipples tightening. He would draw her onto his lap and suckle her until she arched up to him, her hands tangling in his hair. Then he would draw up her gown and undergarments, exposing the dark curls. Then at long last he would explore the damp folds of her sex. He knew how to caress a woman until she shattered.
The erotic images in his head aroused him. He ought to be horsewhipped for even imagining touching her. But no matter how wrong it was, he knew he would continue to fantasize a dozen or more ways to make her writhe, to make her wet, to make her beg him to come inside her.
He forced the erotic images out of his head. “Better?” he murmured near her ear.
“Yes.”
When he released her, she sat back. He hoped she wouldn’t notice the bulge in his tight trousers.
“Thank you,” she said.
The languid expression in her eyes made her look like a woman in the afterglow of lovemaking. He recalled her responsiveness when he’d kissed her and felt certain she would shed her inhibitions in bed. Provided the man had the expertise to arouse her slowly.
Another man, a husband, would be the one to introduce her to the pleasures of lovemaking. The thought seared his brain.
He bounded off the sofa and walked over to the faux mummy so that she wouldn’t see his agitation. He couldn’t let himself think about another man touching her. Soon she would marry, but not this year. He couldn’t let that happen while he was her guardian, because he couldn’t bear to watch. Yet, he would have to witness her take vows. Their families were close, and he could not avoid her wedding without giving insult.
He would travel out of the country. Switzerland or Paris. Perhaps India or Egypt. Some place far, far away.
“I received letters from my mother and brother today,” she said.
Thank God. A safe topic. He glanced at her over his shoulder. “So that is why you spent so much time writing.”
“I had to reassure my mother.” Julianne paused. “She knows about our waltz and disapproves.”
He stilled, imagining Tristan’s anger. “I’d better write to your brother and explain we did not know it was a waltz until we reached the dance floor.”
“You’ll only cause trouble. Mama did not tell Tristan.”
He frowned. “I’m surprised.”
She told him about Tessa’s false labor and the dowager duchess’s wish not to alarm Tristan. “He wrote to me as well and assured me all is well. I think he didn’t want me to worry.”
Hawk walked over to her. “If you wish, I will take you home tomorrow.”
She shook her head. “No. It is a long journey, and there are still many weeks left of Tessa’s confinement.”
He sat beside her. “Are you afraid for her?”
“The physician said she is in no danger. I will not borrow trouble,” she said. “If we return now, it will only make it seem that we are worried, and that might increase Tristan’s vexation.”
He suspected Julianne did not want to be present when Tessa gave birth. Hawk figured it would only frighten her, and the devil knew he didn’t want to be there. But once the babe was born, he would have to take Julianne home. He could not shirk that one last duty to her. However, he would be exchanging that duty for another—a lifetime duty as a godfather.
He couldn’t think about that now.
The servants arrived, set up a small table, and lifted the covers off the dishes. It was a simple repast of ham, cheeses, bread, and fruit.
“I fear you are missing a more substantial meal at your club,” Julianne said after he seated her. “Since I expected to dine alone, I didn’t want to put the servants to more trouble than necessary.”
He dismissed the servants and sat across from her. “I don’t mind.” The intimate setting was a nice change from the frenetic ton entertainments.
While he poured the wine, she prepared a plate for him. There was nothing extraordinary about her serving him, but it pleased him nevertheless. The aroma of warm, crusty bread made his stomach growl. He quickly polished off the thin slices of ham, bread, and tangy cheese.
“You’re famished.” She refilled his plate and added dried figs and a pear.
After they had eaten, he poured more wine for both of them. As she sipped her wine, her eyes glinted with amusement.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“You’ve forgotten I am allowed only one glass of wine or sherry.”
He winked at her. “I’ll make an exception tonight since it’s only the two of us.”
“Are you encouraging me to become inebriated?”
“Let me know when you’re feeling tipsy,” he said. “I don’t want to find you running down the corridor again.”
She smiled. “You never asked why we were running.”
He leaned back in his chair. “By all means, tell me.”
“You may wish to fortify yourself with more wine first,” she said, sipping from her glass again.
He grinned. “In that case, I’ll top up both our glasses.”
They sipped companionably for a few minutes, and then she spoke. “Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” he said.
She drank more wine and then set her glass aside. “It involves a door.”
He drained his glass. “What about the door?”
“It was thumping.”
“You must have been soused if you thought the door was thumping.”
Her eyes gleamed wickedly. “We heard other strange noises.”
“What sort of noises?”
“I thought a rake like you would work it out.”
The wine had slowed his brain. It took him a few minutes to figure out what she meant. “The devil. It was a door banger.”
She clapped her hand over her mouth.
He shouldn’t have let that slip. “I beg your pardon.”
Her low, melodic laugh made him think of a dark bedchamber and tangled sheets.
“I ought not to have told you. The wine loosened my tongue.”
“Are you finished eating?” he asked.
She nodded and rose. “Wine is very soothing, is it not?”
He glanced at her glassy eyes. “I think you’ve had too much.”
“I’m just a little tipsy.”
He led her over to the sofa and rested his arm along the back.
She grinned at him. “I told you about the door. Now it’s your turn to confess something naughty.”
“Since becoming your guardian, I’ve mended my ways.”
“Hah!”
“No, it’s true. I’ve spent all my time looking after you. My bad reputation will be in tatters after this season,” he said.
“But you corrupted me tonight with the wine,” she said. “So now I shall claim a boon. You must answer my questions honestly.”
“You can ask. I won’t promise to answer,” he said.
“Is it true you have a love nest?”
He scowled. “Where the devil did you hear that?”
“The ladies’ retiring room.”
“Lord help us,” he muttered.
“You wanted to know what women do in retiring rooms. Now you know our naughty secret.” She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. “What do your mistresses do all day while you’re out?”
“I do not hav
e a mistress,” he said.
“A likely tale,” she said.
“The topic is unsuitable for your tender ears.”
She sighed. “I always wondered how those women went about becoming famous courtesans.”
He tugged on the curl by her ear. “You have an unhealthy interest in rakes and courtesans.”
“Even good girls have bad thoughts,” she said.
He chuckled. “What sort of bad thoughts?”
She looked at him from beneath her lashes. “You go first.”
“Not a chance,” he said.
“Then you must have very bad thoughts.”
You have no idea. “All men have bad thoughts.”
“Because of your animal passions,” she said.
He burst out laughing.
“What is so funny?” she asked.
He touched her nose. “You.”
She remained silent for a while. Then she turned to him with an earnest expression. “Why do bachelors put off marriage?”
He shrugged. “Freedom.”
“Is that why you haven’t married?” she asked.
Her question caught him off guard, but he meant to tease her in an effort to divert her. “Alas, I have not received a single marriage proposal—since the one you gave me.”
“What?”
“My heart is breaking to think you have forgotten.” He winked. “You were nine years old and begged me to wait for you.”
She looked away. “I don’t remember.”
“The best part was when you got down on bended knee. You looked so solemn. I suggested you ask me again in a dozen years.” He wagged his brows. “Now is your chance.”
“No, thank you.”
“What? You are jilting me?” He clutched his chest.
“I would grant you your second one-hour engagement, but I doubt I can stay awake a full hour to break it.”
“Are you unwell? I hope the wine—”
“I’m only tired.”
Something was off, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. “Until tomorrow.”
When he left the drawing room, he brushed off his concerns. She’d been tired when he arrived, and the wine had probably contributed to her fatigue. Tomorrow she would be her old self again.
The next day, Julianne sat at her desk and drew out a fresh piece of paper. The blank page intimidated her. She needed an idea, but her brain froze. Drat it all, she couldn’t afford to stall now.
A tap at the door startled her. She looked over her shoulder as Hester entered.
“My nephew has seen fit to call before luncheon. He insists upon seeing you.”
“Oh, no. Hester, I must work on the pamphlet. I do not have time to coddle him. Is there not a way to put him off?”
Hester smiled. “I shall tell him you are suffering from a headache.”
Considering the copious amount of wine she’d consumed last evening, she figured he would believe that excuse. “Thank you,” she said.
After Hester left, Julianne frowned at the blank page. Then the perfect advice leaped into her brain. She dipped her quill and started writing.
Once you have secured a gentleman’s interest, do not be “at home” every time he calls. You must not forgo your obligations to charities and to your friends in hopes that he will call.
Hester returned a few minutes later. “My nephew expressed concern for your health.” She smiled. “He actually took the blame for your headache and admitted he’d topped up your wineglass one too many times. I find it rather peculiar, given his anger upon finding you tipsy at the Beresford’s ball.”
Julianne waved her hand. “His reasons are unimportant. However, we do have a problem. He swore to call on me at different times daily. I cannot afford to waste time. I must take advantage of this opportunity to finish the pamphlet.”
“That reminds me,” Hester said. “My friend approached three publishers earlier this week. Two of them refused on the grounds of impropriety.”
Julianne sucked in her breath. No. No!
Hester smiled. “But one of them has expressed interest. He wishes to review a few pages in advance. Now, I suggest that you make a copy of the introduction and the first two chapters today.”
“Oh my goodness.” Julianne rose and hugged Hester. “It will be published!”
Hester patted her back. “There is no certainty, Julianne. If this particular publisher refuses, then my friend will approach others. Hope for the best, but prepare for disappointment.”
She nodded. “I must make the copy straightaway. Will you review it for mistakes?”
“Yes, of course, my dear. Now, I’ll leave you to your work.”
After Hester departed, Julianne twirled round and round. Her heart leaped with giddy excitement. How would she ever be able to focus on the pamphlet when she could barely contain her elation?
She took a deep breath, knowing that all her efforts would be for naught if she did not apply herself to making the copy. And once that was done, she must redouble her efforts to complete the pamphlet. The soft ticking of the bedside clock reminded her that she had only six days left of the restriction, counting today. With a gasp, she returned to the desk, more determined than ever to finish.
Chapter Twelve
A Lady’s Secrets of Seduction: Never be where he expects you to be.
Three days later, Hawk rapped the knocker at his aunt’s house. He ground his teeth, knowing he’d probably regret his decision. But what choice did he have?
After Henderson installed him in the anteroom, Hawk paced about. His aunt ought to have admitted him immediately to the drawing room. Doubtless she intended to make him cool his heels for insisting that Julianne pay the price for her defiance.
He looked at the mantel clock and grew increasingly impatient. Of course, he’d not missed her. She was a thorn in his side and responsible for making his life miserable. At first, he’d been glad for the reprieve from his guardian duties. He’d shared a bottle of claret or three with friends at the club two evenings ago, but for reasons that mystified him, he’d grown bored and a bit irritable within a short time.
After much thought, he’d attributed his foul mood to celibacy, and so he’d decided to slake his lust. That had led him to attend the theater—or rather the women’s dressing room. Nell and Nancy, the naughty dancers, had welcomed him with open arms and scantily clad bodies. They had renewed their offer for a ménage á trois. He’d convinced himself he could keep the matter quiet, but his lust had cooled upon closer inspection of their face paint. They had smelled of perspiration and cheap perfume. Worse still, an image of Julianne’s beautiful blue eyes had risen up in his mind. He’d muttered some vague excuse to the dancers and strode away as if the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels.
A different sort of hell awaited him thereafter. Two nights in a row, he’d dreamed about Julianne—very lewd dreams. He’d awakened half mad with lust both times. No matter how often he’d reminded himself that she was forbidden, he could not shake off his desire for her.
The devil take it. He wasn’t made out of stone. Her beauty would tempt any man, but his situation posed a monumental coil. He wanted her badly, but he couldn’t have her. Not without marrying her, and that was out of the question.
Worst of all, he couldn’t avoid her, even when she wasn’t present. Last night at the club, he’d gotten aggravated with the number of ladies and gentlemen who had expressed concern for her health. This morning, he’d encountered her forlorn beaux at the fencing academy. Beaufort had wanted to know all the details of Julianne’s sudden illness and stated that he would send her flowers posthaste. Not to be outdone, Osgood had declared he would write a poem in her honor. Portfrey and Benton intended to send sweetmeats. Caruthers said he would arrange to have a basket of fruit delivered.
The five had all sighed and agreed the nightly entertainments weren’t nearly as much fun without Julianne’s presence. In their estimation, she was a “jolly good sport” and the liveliest single lady in th
e beau monde.
But that was nothing compared to the mention of her mysterious decline in the scandal sheets this morning. Damn it all. The last thing he needed was for Tristan to hear about his sister’s supposed illness. The old boy had enough to worry about with his wife’s confinement.
Hawk glanced at the clock again and groaned. The devil. He was no better than the cubs. His return to his old life had proven dull, and all he’d thought about was Julianne. Hell, he’d even felt guilty for restricting her activities. But most of all, he’d missed her laughter and even her sassy remarks.
Well, he’d make her happy today.
Moments later, Henderson returned and informed him the ladies would receive him. Hawk told him he could find his way to the drawing room. Then he bounded up the stairs, anxious to give her the good news.
Despite her exhaustion, Julianne could barely hold back her excitement. The publisher had requested the rest of her pamphlet yesterday. His enthusiasm had spurred her to write faster and faster. If she could continue this pace, she would finish the pamphlet before the week ended.
She drew out a fresh sheet of paper, dipped her pen, and started the next chapter: “How to Secure and Keep a Beau.”
Once you have a steady admirer, you may be tempted to discover his plans for the evening. Do so at your own peril, for he will surely believe you are rushing him to the altar. On the other hand, he may try to pin down your plans. If you wish to keep his interest, be vague about your planned entertainments. Do not lie about your whereabouts, but you are under no obligation to inform him which invitations you have accepted.
Hester entered. “May I interrupt?”
“Oh, your timing is perfect. I just finished another chapter. Will you read it and give me your opinion?”
“My nephew has called, but he can wait a few moments.” Hester lifted her quizzing glass and perused the chapter. “Oh, this is excellent. But now we must attend my nephew. You do not want to arouse his suspicions. Come along and greet him.”
Julianne wrinkled her nose. “I’d rather hoped he wouldn’t call for the rest of the week. I’m so close to finishing the pamphlet.”
How to Seduce a Scoundrel Page 16
