by Alice Gaines
“You seem so confused,” she said. “That’s just the way life is.”
He studied her expression. It held no sadness, not even resignation. Rather, she seemed puzzled by his concern.
“Life isn’t that way any more for you,” he said. “I care very much about whether you come or go. I care about everything that happens to you, every moment of the day. ’Til death do us part.”
She rested a hand against his chest and stared at it. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
He waited in silence, holding her in his arms.
“I never planned to marry. I never even thought to become attached to a man. I don’t know if I can learn how to maintain a relationship.”
“You were doing a rather good job of it before anyone else showed up,” he said.
“We were only having sex.” She paused. “No, that isn’t right. It was more right from the first.”
His heart warmed on the spot.
“But I thought it was only sex. That made things simple. Anything else is more complicated for me and rather frightening.” She took a shaky breath. “Please, don’t demand that I love you. Not yet.”
“All right.” He tucked her head under his chin and stroked her hair. “For now, I’ll have to have enough love for both of us.
Chapter Fifteen
Juliet swallowed a chuckle, watching Jack’s antics with the Dowager Marchioness of Derrington.
“Lady Derrington, you’ve captured my soul in the snare of your beauty.” Jack put his palm over his heart. “Marry me and make me an honest man.”
“You, honest?” Lady Derrington declared. “That would take more than a marriage to me. It’d take a miracle.”
“Then, take me away from all this.” Jack gestured around at the field where they’d laid out their picnic. All very elegant. A selection of the cook’s most elegant foods served on fine china and silver. Roasted game birds with a delicious relish called chutney. She’d filled up on the stuff to the point where even the dessert pastries didn’t tempt her. The ruins of Castle Greenleigh loomed in the distance, but otherwise, the scenery was perfectly lovely. Nothing anyone would need to be taken away from.
Lady Derrington swatted at him. “You only want me for my money.”
“Not so, dear lady,” Jack said. “I’d worship you if you didn’t have a cent.”
Derrington reclined on the blanket, propped up on one elbow, his head nearly in Juliet’s lap. The itch to stroke his hair to feel the sun’s warmth there had become almost irresistible, and she clutched her plate to make her hand behave.
“Maybe you ought to take him up on his offer, Harry,” he said. “You don’t know when another one will come along.”
“I can have as many offers as I please, young man,” Lady Derrington said. “And may I remind you of your own lack of success on the marriage market.”
“To the contrary,” Derrington said. Giving Juliet the delicious twinkle to his eye. “I’ve found the perfect woman, and she’ll surrender sooner or later.”
“May you have better luck than I’ve had,” Jack said.
The two men hadn’t exactly become friends, but they tolerated each other well enough. And if they could act as allies to tease someone else, they didn’t hesitate. Juliet had served as their target a few times, but she could handle them.
“I’ll take you to Italy when I return, Mr. Carter, but only if you behave yourself,” Lady Derrington said. “Bump and Miss Foster can come along, too, after they’re married.”
“What about Miss Rhodes?” Derrington said. “Is she invited?”
“Certainly.” Lady Derrington glanced around. “Say, where is she?”
“She said she wanted to stretch her legs,” Juliet said.
“About ten minutes before the vicar made the same announcement, as I recall,” Jack said.
“Why, that little trickster,” Juliet said. “She sneaked away with him.”
“Surely you don’t expect her to make an announcement about a thing like that,” Derrington said. “‘Pardon me, but the vicar is waiting for me behind that shrub over there.’”
“We’re the best of friends,” Juliet said. “We tell each other everything.”
“Everything?” he said, staring up at her.
Oh, dear. He meant what they did in bed, of course. The bastard. Lady Derrington and Jack averted their eyes, but Jack seemed near laughter.
“Not in detail, of course,” she said.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Derrington said. Jack chortled.
Juliet set aside her plate and rose. “I’ll be right back.”
Derrington caught her ankle. “Leave them in peace.”
“I will not. She’s scolded me often enough about my dealings with men. It’s time I returned the favor.” She pulled her foot from Derrington’s grasp and headed toward the castle ruins. The countryside offered little cover for a tryst, as it consisted mostly of grasses and gentle slopes with only a single tree here and there. The old stone walls could provide protection from curious eyes, though, and she’d find them easily enough. What a delight. Millie with a lover. Knowing her friend, she hadn’t encouraged the vicar to do anything truly scandalous, but a few hidden kisses would confirm the relationship well enough to lead to marriage. Juliet might well leave Millie here as the wife of the local vicar.
She approached the first wall quietly and peered around the corner. No Millie, no vicar, but there were enough other arches and remnants of enclosures for them to hide in. She tiptoed a bit farther and peeked around another tall pile of stones. Still, she didn’t see them, but the sounds of voices floated to her.
“My dear—” A man.
“Yes—” Millie.
One more corner and she found them. She’d gone as silently as she could, but they wouldn’t have heard her, anyway. They were gazing into each other’s faces with such intensity, they’d hardly notice if lightning struck a foot away.
The vicar’s warm, brown eyes held a world of love in them, and although Juliet couldn’t see Millie’s face from where she stood, Millie’s posture gave everything away. She held the vicar’s hands in hers, and she leaned toward him, her head tilted to one side.
“Forgive me, Miss Rhodes. I can’t resist,” Mr. Wently said as he dropped her hands and pulled her into his arms. “You are so very, very beautiful.”
“Richard,” Millie whispered.
He kissed her then, with the awkward sort of grace only the innocent could manage. His lips barely touched hers, and there was none of the battle for dominance that had marked her first encounters with Derrington. The sweetness touched something inside her—a twinge, just a tiny one, of recognition that she’d never experience what Millie was right now. Lovers were supposed to yield to each other gently, not battle for supremacy as she and Derrington had done. And even though they’d reached a truce of sorts, the war continued. She’d never experience the purity of feeling—this coming together of willing souls. She’d surrendered her innocence to a wicked rake, if she’d ever had innocence at all.
Before she could drown in a sea of misplaced self-pity, a hand caught her arm and pulled her back to the other side of the wall. Derrington’s, of course. He gave her a scolding glare, but a smile colored his eyes.
“I—”
He put a finger on her lips to still her and shook his head in warning. He was probably right. Even as involved with each other as the vicar and Millie had become, they’d still hear her if she spoke.
Derrington kissed her, easing his lips over hers with their usual art. No matter how many times she shared a kiss with him, he always stirred her with no more than the pressure of his mouth on hers. As always, she ran her arms around him and pulled her body to his.
After a moment he straightened and took her hand to lead her away.
“They make a sweet couple, don’t you think?” He said after he’d put some distance between them and the lovely scene they’d left.
“Sweet,” she answered. “Very
.”
“You don’t approve?”
“Of course, I approve,” she said. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“You sound uncertain,” he said. “Or perhaps, wistful.”
Curse the man. He could read her too well. That twinge was still there, and more twinges threatened to join it if she let them. She’d just watched how love was supposed to work. Honest admiration, innocent kisses. Not one person asking bluntly for meaningless sex while the other pretended to tender feelings he didn’t really have.
“You didn’t love me when you first asked me to marry you, did you?” she asked.
He stopped dead in his tracks, almost stumbling. For a moment, he didn’t speak.
“No, I didn’t,” he said finally. “If you’d asked me then, I would have told you I did, and it wouldn’t have been a lie.”
“How is that possible?”
He took her hand in his and toyed with the fingers, staring down at them. “You fascinated me. I wanted you. You seemed the perfect mate for me.”
“But that isn’t love.”
“No, it isn’t.” He put a finger beneath her chin and lifted it. “So, what has you so melancholy?”
“I’m not melancholy. I just wonder what it must feel like to come to love easily as they have.”
He began walking again, and she fell into step beside him. “I can give that to you, if you want.”
“Develop tender feelings for me?” she said. “You tried that.”
“It didn’t work very well, as I recall.”
He took her hand in his as they walked. “We could play lovers as those two are. Hide our affection from the others. Arrange trysts. That sort of thing.”
“We’d only be playing at it.”
He squeezed her fingers. “Juliet, is there something I’m not giving you?”
“No!” she said, much too quickly and much too loudly. “Maybe. I don’t know if you can.”
He stopped and turned her toward him. “Tell me what.”
“Innocence.”
“Oh, my darling.” He kissed her forehead. “I would, but I haven’t been innocent for a very long time.”
“I didn’t help matters by demanding you take my virginity.”
“It was an unusual request,” he said.
“Millie would never do that.”
“The good vicar would probably faint dead away if she did,” he said. “We’re different people.”
She glanced back toward the ruins of the castle, trying to picture the two of them in that simple embrace. It didn’t work.
“Different people find different paths to happiness,” Derrington said.
“You’re turning into a philosopher,” she said. “I’m not sure I like it.”
He chuckled, twined her arm in his, and led her back to the picnic.
***
Juliet sat at her dressing table and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her vision wasn’t what you’d call blurry, but more like hazy—as if she were staring through gauze. She hadn’t had any trouble getting a good image of things by candlelight when she’d first arrived here. But then, her mind didn’t seem to feel as sharp as usual. She’d feel better after a good night’s sleep. If Derrington let her have one.
She smiled. He never gave her enough rest, but she wouldn’t complain. He gave her too much pleasure to ask him to stop.
The door to her bedroom opened, and a head poked in. Not her lover’s, but Millie.
“Oh, good. You’re awake,” Millie said.
“I see you’re dressed for bed.”
“I thought we could have a chat like we used to at Sedgewick’s,” Millie said. “Both of us in our nightgowns.”
“What a wonderful idea.” Juliet rose and went to the bed. After sitting, she patted the mattress, and Millie joined her.
Her friend had braided her thick hair into one plait that fell over her shoulder to her chest. She was the same innocent she’d always been, but now, she glowed. Mr. Wently and his kisses, no doubt.
“I wanted to ask you,” Millie said. “You and Lord Derrington…you’ve, well…”
Millie’s meaning came through clearly, even if she was too shy to speak the words. Juliet ought to tease her by pretending not to understand, but she seemed so eager. “Yes, we’ve made love. Many times and many ways.”
“It does hurt the first time, doesn’t it?” Millie asked.
“Not too much if the man is gentle.”
Millie nodded. “That makes sense.”
“It’s the vicar, isn’t it?”
Millie smiled. “I knew you’d notice.”
“I’d have to be blind not to.”
“He’s asked me to marry him.”
“Well, of course he has.” She leaned over and hugged Millie close. For some inexplicable reason, her chin trembled, and tears spilled out of her eyes. For heaven’s sake, she was crying. Not just misty, but weeping.
“Juliet?” Millie pushed her away and stared into her face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” The word came out wobbly, and she fanned her hand in front of her face. “Just practicing crying for your wedding.”
“It doesn’t look like you need any practice.”
She caught one last sniffle and wiped her eyes. “Well, that was unexpected.”
“Are you all right?”
“Fine,” she answered. “Wonderful. Thrilled for you.”
“Good. I was worried for a moment.”
“So.” Juliet took Millie’s hands. “You accepted, of course.”
“My head was spinning. I’d never expected any man to propose, let alone an English man of the cloth,” Millie said. “I told him I needed to think about it.”
“But you will accept.”
“Tomorrow.” Millie gave her a mischievous grin. “It is kind of fun making him wait.”
“What a devil you are.”
“I learned from a master…mistress.”
The twinges returned. Millie was living every young girl’s dream, and she’d made such a complicated mess of things with Derrington. She’d somehow arranged things so that marrying him was a surrender, and he’d shown no reluctance to act like a dictator if it would win him anything. Surrender, no matter how sweet, was still surrender.
“So, I wondered,” Millie said. “The marriage act, is it anything like what they say?”
“That depends on which ‘they’ you mean,” she answered. “Don’t believe the ones who call it the ‘wifely duty’ and other horrible things.”
“It is really wonderful, then.”
“Oh, dear, if I could only tell you.”
“You don’t have to. The look on your face speaks volumes,” Millie said.
Juliet bit her lip. She was usually totally honest with Millie, but admitting she’d seen her with the vicar might only embarrass her friend. “Has Mr. Wently kissed you?”
Even in the dim light, the color of Millie’s cheeks showed. “A few times.”
“Did you like it?”
“Oh, yes. But not just the kiss. The look that enters his eyes before he does it—heated, do you know what I mean?”
“Intimately.”
“And then, the feeling that he must taste me or die.” Millie shivered. “Afterward, neither of us can catch our breath.”
“The two of you are right for each other, then,” Juliet said. “You’ll do fine.”
“I wish I knew more about the ways of the flesh. I so want to make him happy in that regard.” Millie twisted her fingers together.
“Well, there are some things.” Derrington had mentioned a few, and she might add one or two tips of her own. “First, let him know he’s a good lover. Tell him how much you want him, and then, let him take pride in how well he’s satisfied you.”
Millie bit her lip for a moment. “Satisfied me?”
“I don’t know what kind of words a man like Mr. Wently would use for it, but if he has any skill at all, he’ll make you climax. Be sure he realizes how much pleasure you
take from it.”
“You do that with Lord Derrington?” Millie asked.
“Every time. Often more than once.”
“Oh, my,” Millie gasped. “He must be a very skillful lover.”
“Your husband will be, too, after some practice.”
Millie placed her hand over her chest. “I’ll gladly help him practice.”
“There’s the spirit.” She squeezed Millie’s hand. “Another thing—allow yourself to try things that may seem, well, odd.”
Millie leaned toward her. “Like what?”
“For one thing, kisses,” she answered. “In very intimate places.”
Her friend’s eyes went wide. “How intimate?”
“The most intimate.”
“Oh, my.” Millie swallowed hard. “Has Lord Derrington done that to you?”
“He has, and I’ve done it to him.”
“Oh, Juliet.”
“Trust me. It creates the most intense sensations.”
“I’ve never thought of dealing with a man’s—”
“—cock”
“…cock in that way.”
“Another thing,” Juliet said. “Praise his member. Tell him how beautiful it is and how large. Men are very vain about that.”
“I’ll remember all that, and thank you.” Millie sat quietly for a moment, a look of wonder on her face. “It’s all so much. I never expected at my age that a man would take an interest in me.”
“Why in hell not?” Juliet answered. “You’re beautiful and intelligent. You have a loving disposition.”
“And I’m poor, over thirty, and a virgin.”
“According to Derrington, Mr. Wently doesn’t need money. He’s over thirty himself. And he’ll treasure your innocence.”
“Did Lord Derrington treasure yours?”
The question caught her by surprise, making her breath catch in her throat. She hadn’t thought of that night in that way. The sex had been part of a game of dominance—which one of them would have his way. The physical sensations had stolen her breath. So magnificent. More than she could have dreamed possible if she hadn’t lived it herself. But, treasure? Reverence? A sense of crossing over an important boundary she could never re-cross? No. Had she missed all that?
