by Patty Deans
"Indeed." With a quizzical lift of an eyebrow, he looked from Aunt Shredda to Julia. "I recognized the furniture when I visited their homes."
"Don't look so shocked, James." Aunt Shredda laughed.
James leaned back in his chair, and Julia couldn't determine if he was shocked or angry.
Aunt Shredda continued, "When I was a child I hated that dark room. Your father was right, we never saw the room in daylight. Our father, the Old Earl," she pointed a finger at him and went on. "Yes, even you, Jameson, called him that, spent his time tending to business, pushing his tenants, cursing the weather or anybody that interfered with record crop production. Our mother shielded us from his irritation by teaching your father and me every language she knew. Mother, a bluestocking, through and through, made life interesting, books exciting, and her balls were a pleasant memory that continued with her husband, the Old Earl." She turned to Julia, adding, "Do you find the room looks larger?"
"Yes, much -- "
"I don't believe there is any place left to hide from angry eyes." James interrupted. He must be a mind reader, thought Julia. Then he added, "Poor Robert."
Reaching over to pat James' hand, Aunt Shredda said, "No one here has angry eyes. Breakfast in the room off the garden is delightful. Close to the kitchen the rolls are hot, butter melts on them. Tomorrow morning you must join us. It's pleasant to hear the birds singing in the summertime."
"Great spot, I'm sure," he agreed, but Julia noted he hadn't committed himself to eating breakfast with them. To Julia he said, "When you see Fogel tell him to stay put so that I may find him."
Warmth overtook her checks; she glanced at her plate and wished herself elsewhere. What would he do to her when he learned the truth?
Aunt Shredda came to her rescue. "We'll leave you to your wine, Jameson. I do hope you will join us later in the drawing room."
"I'm going to bed. I had very little sleep last night and I sent word to Gilbert I would arrive early at Willowgreen on the morrow. I'll be gone only a few days, then return in time to meet with Stewart Jones."
It seemed that Aunt Shredda and James had talked of everyone in the past, and the time had sat heavily on Julia. The minute she stepped away from the dining room, she breathed easier. Yet, there was much to do. She must prepare for the solicitor. Mr. Jones had grown used to Martin taking Fogel's place. She never lied about Fogel. If only James married her before Mr. Jones arrived. Surely a misunderstanding on James' part could not constitute grounds for breaking their engagement.
CHAPTER 6
Four days later, James traipsed over to the bailiff's cottage. Still Fogel hadn't returned and he needed to ask the old man about the tenants. Then he would question Julia about the agriculture book she had taught them to read. Had she charmed gruff old Fogel, too?
Disgusted, he went back to the manor. Walking up from the stable, he spotted the maze and decide to dash through it. Surprised, he found himself a bit lost in the overgrown roots in the pathway, tangled vines clinging across the path, then suddenly he spotted the door hidden by vines and entered. He took a moment to catch his breath and noticed a wooden box sitting on the shelf almost hidden from view. So this is where Robert hid the old foot soldiers to keep them safe from the dragon. "Trust takes a little time," he whispered in the darkness and smiled at Robert's precaution. He trudged up the old hidden stairway to sneak into the library, planning to choose a book to read to Robert before others were aware he had returned.
James reached the library and stopped. Through the secret panel, he heard someone moving about in the room. Aunt Shredda hated the place. Who would have the nerve to invade his domain? He had made it clear from the first day he returned that all his business would be conducted in his library. Though he was not nearly as angry as curious, he slowly slid the hidden panel six inches to see Julia meticulously gathering books by Shakespeare. She seemed determined to place the collection on the same shelf.
He watched her standing next to the bookcase looking toward the ceiling her fists firmly planted on her hips, talking to the books, "Hamlet, what are you doing on the top shelf? What a nuisance."
She moved a heavy walnut chair away from the library table closer to the shelf, lifted her skirt and petticoats to her knees and put her foot on the seat. James' heart raced, and he gazed longingly at her shapely legs and slim ankles. Then she reached out and put her hands on the wooden arms. With only a slight bounce she pulled herself onto the chair and planted her slippered feet solidly on the seat.
Most of her long golden hair had already uncoiled from the ribbon, leaving only a few curls on top of her head. The book was still beyond her grasp. "Hamlet, who put you out of everyone's reach?" She balanced a foot on each of the chair's arms while holding the chair back and leaning toward the bookcase. Establishing her hold on a shelf, she stretched until her fingers finally touched the bottom of the cover and she gave a tug on its spine. "Glory, glory!" she exclaimed and tugged harder.
She lost her balance. With one giant step, James rushed forward and caught her in midair. It actually appeared to him as though she was pushed into his arms. Or had he been pushed to her?
"What are you trying to do?" he demanded angrily. The imp could have broken her pretty neck. Suddenly he realized he cared for her, but not as a wife, only his ward.
***
Embarrassed at finding herself trapped in his arms she tried to wiggle free. She couldn't get away. "Did you push me?" she asked in an accusing tone.
He frowned. "No! Why are you in my library? Does that chair resemble a tree?"
She felt herself flush as she glanced at his black hair. It tumbled over his forehead and she wanted to reach up and touch the lock of wayward hair. Then she caught his sea green eyes glaring in reproof. She wanted to see him smile. Her behavior was unbecoming, but she raised her chin and demurely murmured, "You were not expected before tomorrow, my lord."
"A good thing I returned," he snapped, breaking the tenderness of the moment. "That would have been a nasty fall. Why didn't you use the ladder."
"It's broken." She tried to look away from him so he couldn't see her disappointment. "Thank you for saving me."
"You've turned sweeter than when I saved you from falling out of the old oak tree." He sounded decidedly top lofty.
"I was almost twelve," she parried defensively. "You scolded me and made me cry."
"You kissed me," he grinned.
"You kissed me first."
"Just to make you stop crying."
"I'm not crying."
"No you're not." He cleared his throat.
How odd! His anger had disappeared from his eyes and she still struggled to slow her heartbeat, and keep her arms from creeping around his neck to obtain the kiss she suddenly craved. His eyes darkened to the green of a midnight sea. What was he thinking? Aware of her heart pounding and heat building in her midsection, she had to get away from him before she made a fool of herself. "Put me down!"
As though James just realized he held her in his arms, he hastily set her down. Then backed away a step. "You're all grown up," he added in a whisper. He quickly cooled her ardor with his next words, "I've talked to Aunt Shredda about finding you a suitable husband."
Not knowing what else to do, she countered back, and threw in a smile she was far from feeling. "She can try, but I'm not interested in marrying any dandies. You will do."
"We will talk about that later. You are not dealing with a fool. I'm certain you were not in my bed when I climbed in the window."
Julia shrugged her shoulders in a show of indifference. She had no intention of admitting her true feelings. "Aunt Shredda agrees with me. You are quite suitable."
He stepped toward her, but she would not be intimidated. "Surely Aunt Shredda could line up a man who isn't a dandy."
Julia could hardly breathe when he moved closer. Yet she could not let him defile anyone as kind and thoughtful as Aunt Shredda. "They are not my style. They are all..." she shrugged before adding, "liberti
nes."
He raised a brow. "What do you know about libertines?"
"Enough to know I don't want to marry one. I don't fancy I want to marry any rogue running around London."
"Have you met any rogues?" he demanded, though she could see he bit his lower lip to keep from smiling.
Why did he have to stand so near that she felt the heat of his body? "Only you."
"Me?" His attempt to look innocent failed on her. "Nearly five years ago I spent maybe a month at Hawkthorn. Unforgettable days they were, too. I rescued your cat, saved you from falling out of a tree, and I taught you to swim. Now I've saved you from falling and breaking your foolish neck. How can you call me a rogue?"
She flinched at the suggestion of being foolish, even though to him it might appear to be true. "Aunt Shredda says you're a lovable rogue." She tried to soften her earlier accusation. "Also that you need to marry for an heir. But you have Robert." Her hand reached her mouth too late to stop the words. She had said too much.
Suddenly his face lost his teasing smile. "I need to talk with Aunt Shredda. It is scandalous for her to talk behind my back."
"She doesn't tell anyone but me," Julia quickly said hoping to placate him. "To others she sings only your praise."
"What makes you so positive she only speaks to you?" he demanded frowning.
Yet he looked incredibly handsome. Again, that unruly lock of eBoney hair tempted her to reach out and run her fingers through it before pushing it gently back. What happened to her good sense? He sounded so stern, she wanted to run and hide. And yet he looked so lovable she wanted to kiss him.
"She made me promise not to tell anyone. I assumed you already knew what you were. Besides she thought it would prepare me to flirt with you. I'm dreadfully sorry I haven't learned how, but it doesn't seem necessary for an arranged marriage."
"What?" His eyebrows rose and he stared at her.
She could feel his breath on her face. "Please, don't look at me like that. I told her I accepted you."
"Then why is she planning a party for you to meet other men?"
"I didn't know she was. I thought it was you who wanted me to meet other men." She was more confused than ever.
"I think Aunt Shredda is playing a game with us. For the time being, let her think what she will. Between you and me, I don't want anyone to hear you say we are engaged. I expect you to go through a season and reconsider your answer at that time."
"That will be unnecessary. I think you will do fine," she repeated in a brisk manner.
"Where do you get such notions?"
She tilted her chin. "I read."
"Did my father and stepmother allow you to read Gothic romances?"
"They didn't know. I read all the Greek and Latin books, too."
With an exasperated sigh, James stated, "You don't know what it is like to be thoroughly kissed by a man -- or do you?"
Standing on tiptoes, she flung her arms around his neck in answer to his challenge. With only a slight tug she brought his lips to hers. His mouth moved back and forth. Then his tongue pushed past her defenses and parted her lips. The sensation was new to her as she bravely began to duel with his tongue. She had to stop. Yet when his hand touched her breast, and heat surged to her mid-section, she didn't want to stop.
He pulled away suddenly, and held her at arm's length.
She stood still, with her eyes closed, until her pulse calmed. "I presume that is a thorough kiss. You can see, it didn't change my mind. You will do fine." She hoped he couldn't hear her knees knocking. It wouldn't do for him to know how much his kiss affected her.
"Give me your word that you will keep this engagement of ours between the two of us quiet."
She lowered her lashes demurely. "Only if you give me your word that you will marry me Christmas week instead of forcing me to go to London in March for a season." After all, she promised Robert to keep them together, what a fitting Christmas present this would make.
"Does it need to be that soon?"
Her shoulders straightened. "I think it only reasonable that you get a special license. When you show it to me, I will ask Aunt Shredda not to say anything until Christmas." She saw an unreadable expression in his eyes. She hoped it wasn't fear or revulsion. Perhaps she didn't please him. Once she thought James could dally in town. Now, she wasn't so sure she could stand his absence for any great length of time.
Both his hands were fisted as he breathed in and out as if to control his temper. "If you still insist on marrying me, I will oblige you," he conceded. "But first you must meet a few younger men."
"Of course, my lord." She tried to sound unconcerned, though the words came out touched with sarcasm.
"What kind of a man do you favor?"
"Faithful." She said the first word that came to mind, then cringed, wishing she had not said it. Why did he have to stand within an inch of her? Her heart beat faster. A strange feeling throbbed lower. She needed to change the subject and dispel the mood that hung as a heavy cloud around them.
"I don't need to go to London and shop. Aunt Shredda bought me enough clothes to last for years. They are supposed to hide the fact that I can read Greek and Latin." A nervous laugh escaped her. She nipped her lip. Why did he make her feel awkward? Why was he staring at her?
He continued to study her. She had to say something to change the subject, so she blurted out, "Any news about the war?"
She whirled back to the stacks of books wishing he would go away and leave her alone. He made her apprehensive, her statements came out in disjointed sentences.
Without warning, he stepped between her and the bookcases. Just as quickly he pulled her into his warm embrace, leaned down and brushed her lips with his. She pressed closer. Slowly, he released her and moved discreetly away.
"I sold my army commission. I've not heard any change in the war." He cleared the emotion from his throat. "Are you planning to steal my books?"
The distance between them didn't help her taut nerves. After a deep breath she turned from him and said, "Steal your books? I believe these books are not all your personal property."
"I'm the Earl. The fact is they belong to me."
"Not the ones your father gave me. Not the ones I translated," Julia insisted.
"As long as they're in my library," he drawled. She glanced over her shoulder in time to see the boyish half smile that softened his features. Did he really meant to tease her? "I consider them my property," he paused for only a second without giving her a chance to comment. "Who taught you to translate?"
"My mother and some tutors, of course." She needed to keep her mouth shut. Quickly she pulled out her handkerchief, then thought better of weeping or behaving in the same manner Aunt Shredda chose to handle men. "The library needs to be organized. I must get the books recorded and back before tomorrow." She looked defiantly into his eyes and swallowed. "A message from Mr. Jones said he would arrive here tomorrow."
"Wasn't it addressed to me?"
She bit her lip and looked down at the floor. James will more likely throttle her instead of want to kiss her when he learns the truth about his steward. "I've been amiss. Mr. Jones usually addressed his missives to the manor. I learned to open the messages and give the housekeeper the date Mr. Jones expected to arrive. She always readied a room for him. My aunt and step-uncle did not like their work interrupted by mundane duties. By my taking over these chores, life in the manor ran smoothly. However, I'll remember in future to bring them to you. Please forgive me."
"Thank you. I'm sure Mr. Jones will be pleased with your efforts. Do not climb on a chair again! I'll send someone to help you with the books."
Sudden anger burned in his chest. Did Julia believe the Hawkthorns unfit to take care of their duties? She needed guidance and discipline more than he did. He had served in the army where discipline preserved one's life.
She had no right to tell him what to do. It might take an older, more tolerant man to handle her in marriage. Someone about my age.
CHAPTER 7
"Fiddlesticks!" James has the impudence to demand anything of me. We are not related! An act of chance made him my guardian. And only my promise to Robert will force me to restrain my temper. "Well, you're not the only one who is angry, my lord," Julia whispered to herself.
How did he get in the library so quietly? She looked around. Nothing appeared out of place. Perhaps she had been lost in a daydream. How in the world could she have slipped, and let him know she could translate? He brought out the worst in her.
She lurched at the sound of tapping on the door. "Come in."
Ellis entered ready to help her, and within a few minutes had all the books off the top two shelves. "Please call me, Lady Julia, when you need further assistance. I will be glad to return the books to the shelf in any manner you like."
Julia smiled. "Thank you."
Glancing over the volumes, she commented to the empty room, "So the dragon is back and he intends to make his presence felt and his authority known. Well, I will see about that!"
Then quite by accident she found the original old manuscript written and illustrated by James' grandmother, dedicated to the 'Hawkthorn Man' who would dare to turn into a Dragon like the first Hawkthorn man did long ago. An exciting adventure that she remembered reading over and over again. It had seemed so real she was certain James was that man. After a moment she put the document back among the fairy tales and sat at the desk to record and stack the leather bound volumes.
After about an hour of cataloging titles she moved an ancient book and a small scrap of paper fluttered to the floor. Leaning over, she rescued the paper. The date read 1760, and the message was printed in Greek. She struggled to make out the scratchy lettering. Slowly she read out loud, "You must marry the earl. My spirit will help you." She admired the rose sketched on the corner. It gave a romantic look to the old parchment.
