by Danice Allen
“You forfeited your rights, brat, when you lied to me.” He opened his arms and indicated the room with a sweeping flourish. “This doesn’t look like the Women’s Shelter to me. That is, not unless they’re harboring the homeless in public inns these days.”
Sam blushed hotly. At least she still had enough scruples left to be embarrassed when she was caught in a lie.
“Well?” he prompted. “Tell me what’s going on. You can’t imagine what I’ve been thinking, fearing—” He stopped suddenly, unwilling to lose his leverage by showing his concern.
Too late. Sam’s chin was already lifting defiantly. Her blush had quickly disappeared, replaced by two determined spots of color high on her cheeks. “I told you I was going to the Women’s Shelter because it was the only way I could think of to get away from the house without a chaperon.”
“That much I figured out for myself,” he answered with dry sarcasm. “Yes, a chaperon would definitely put a damper on a secret liaison with a lover at a public inn.” He paused to gather his composure, then proceeded with steely calm. “How could you be so foolish, Sam? What were you thinking? You had nothing to prove to Nathan Ford. Men do not routinely sample the wares before tying the knot. Like as not, once the wares are sampled, they’re on to the next ‘shop,’ so to speak.”
Sam’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open in an appearance of patent disbelief. “Is that what you think happened here? Is that why you were so emotional at first, so … so sweet to me? You thought I’d met Nathan here for an amorous tryst, and that he’d then left me to fend for myself?”
Julian glowered. “Do you dare to deny it? When I spoke with a gentleman I know at Whites, informing me that he saw you and Nathan kissing in the courtyard of the King’s Arms this morning, what else was I to conclude?”
“Indeed, I suppose it was impossible for you to even consider that there might be another explanation,” she retorted. “I’m not a … a … ‘shop,’ Julian!”
Julian tapped his toe on the floor. “You have been visiting courtesans, Sam,” he reminded her tartly. “You have been reading books about sex. It seemed likely to me that you were putting your newly acquired knowledge to the test.”
Sam did not reply. She simply glowered back at him.
“That you meant to allow the gentleman liberties I still believe to be true,” Julian continued. “And though you have acted a bit miffed by my assertions, you have not outright denied them.”
Thinking this a perfect moment for denials, Julian waited for some response from Sam, but she remained stubbornly silent. Julian sighed and gave his waistcoat a straightening tug. “Thank goodness nothing came of this so-called tryst, a circumstance for which I am profoundly grateful. I only hope that you were the one to put a stop to this immoral debacle … that it was you who searched your mind and heart and finally decided not to employ the tactics you learned from Isabelle and, instead, sent the fellow packing!”
Sam covered her mouth and shook her head, her eyes suddenly brimming with … not tears of shame … but of amusement.
“What’s so funny?” Julian demanded.
“You, Julian,” she informed him with a laugh that bordered on the hysterical. “You are a brilliant man. But today, for some reason, you are acting like an absolute nick-ninny!”
Doubt and foreboding flooded Julian’s heart. “You’re not telling me that you did dally with Nathan Ford, are you?”
Sam shrugged. “Why do you suppose we didn’t? Isabelle certainly told me everything I need to know to be quite good at ‘dallying.’ And to be quite diverse, too! I’ll certainly never be a boring lover.”
“The bed’s still made,” Julian growled.
“What makes you think we used the bed?” Sam taunted him. “Perhaps he took me against the wall, or maybe we got down on the rug and—”
“Stop it, Sam,” Julian rasped. The visions she was conjuring up were torture.
“Or perhaps we indulged in a ménage à trois,” Sam persisted, pacing the rug and gesturing wildly. “After all, what else were we to do with Clara? We figured we might as well put her to good use!”
“Sam, I said to stop talking like a—”
Julian stopped short. Clara. Clara. He had not thought of her all day! No, even though he’d seen her leave with Sam that morning, not once had he wondered where Clara was!
“Good God, Sam, where is Clara?” Julian inquired in a wondering voice.
Sam crossed her arms and smirked. “I should say she’s halfway to Scotland by now.”
“To Scotland?”
“Aye, to our wee, bonny neighboring country to the north,” Sam confirmed in a fair imitation of a Scottish burr and with a cheeky grin.
Julian frowned. “How did she get there?”
“She didn’t walk. And since no one has invented a method for humans to fly from place to place, you must certainly realize, Julian, that she went in a horsedrawn carriage.”
“You incorrigible brat,” Julian grated out. “Don’t mock me, or I shall be tempted to … to…”
Sam raised her brows in a look of saucy interest. “To do what, Julian?”
“Never mind! Just tell me with whom she was traveling and why. Her father will be in a tizzy. I gather she eloped with someone … but who? I had no idea Clara was keeping company with anyone.”
With her arms still crossed, Sam simply shook her head at Julian and smiled. “Your friend at Whites saw the very man whose name you press for … in the courtyard, kissing me!”
Julian’s frown deepened. “Nathan? You’re not telling me that Clara ran off with Nathan, are you? I don’t believe it! He’s in love with you! And you’re in love with him!”
“So you seem determined to believe,” Sam said. “But there is absolutely nothing going on between Nathan and me. There never was. Not love, or lust.”
Julian’s eyes narrowed. “If there was nothing going on, why was he kissing you?”
“He was kissing me good-bye. And he merely gave me a peck on the cheek. People—your friend at Whites, too, no doubt—love to exaggerate, you know.”
Julian seemed finally to be putting all the facts together and attempting to fathom what must seem to him unfathomable. He walked slowly to a reed-backed chair by the fireplace and sat down, his arms hanging limply at his sides. He looked at the oval braided rug at his feet for a few moments, seemingly deep in thought, then lifted his troubled, reflective gaze to Sam.
“You told me you loved him,” Julian accused.
“I never said so,” Sam disclaimed.
“You implied it. In fact, I thought I understood that your visit to Isabelle was for the sole purpose of learning how to please Nathan in bed.”
Sam took a tentative step closer. “I never named Nathan as the man I wished to please … in … in that way.”
Julian eyed her warily, his gaze flitting over her from tip to toe. “I distinctly remember his name being mentioned.”
“His name was brought up by you.” She took another step.
“You didn’t correct my mistake.” He looked her over again, this time his gaze lingering on her lips. She saw him swallow hard.
“I wanted you to figure it out for yourself,” she said, taking one more step toward what she hoped would be an embrace. “But it appears that I must make explanations.” Now it was her turn to swallow hard. “I know I’ve given you reason to believe otherwise, but the only man for me, the only man I could ever want and love and employ my newly acquired knowledge in behalf of, is … is … you, Julian Montgomery.”
Chapter Twelve
Julian stared at Sam. Then it was true, he thought numbly. Charlotte had been right when she’d told him that Sam fancied herself in love with him. He’d thought it amusing at first, even a little touching, because surely all Sam felt for him was an immature infatuation … a sort of confused gratitude.
Then, when she’d appeared so smitten with Nathan Ford, had spent so much time with him recently, and had asked so many questions about
America, he’d naturally concluded that Sam had found another object for her affections.
But, apparently, Julian had been completely wrong. The questions had been for Clara’s benefit. And all those walks in Hyde Park with just the three of them and that undisciplined pup, Madison, had been to further the romance between Clara and Nathan!
Julian still believed Sam’s feelings for him were not the sort that made for a mature and lasting attachment, but her infatuation was obviously more firmly entrenched in her youthful and unworldly imagination than he could have ever imagined.
“Bloody Hell,” Julian muttered. “How could I have been so blind and stupid? I’ve always prided myself on my wit, but it appears I haven’t enough to fill a thimble.”
“Nonsense, Julian,” Sam assured him softly, taking another step closer. She stood directly in front of him now, with only an arm’s length separating them. “Everyone in London names you as the cleverest man in town.”
He frowned. “Then why didn’t I see how you were … er … feeling about me? Why didn’t I see what was right in front of my nose?”
She shrugged, that subtle, sensuous movement of her slim, round shoulder that Julian found so unnerving. He looked away. “Perhaps, as now, you didn’t want to see what was right in front of your nose,” she suggested coyly.
Goaded, Julian locked eyes with her again, but did not allow his gaze to stray below her neck. He had no business lusting after her. And she must never know…
He raised his brows and drawled, “That’s unlikely. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Maybe because if you confronted the notion of me being in love with you, you’d have to admit that…” Her voice trailed off. She blushed and looked timid.
“Admit what, brat?” he prompted her with assumed boredom.
She took a breath, seeming to gather courage. “That you’re in love with me, too.”
Alarmed, Julian immediately stood up, nearly toppling Sam backwards. He caught her by the arms, just below the shoulders, her eyes large and startled as she stared up at him.
“There is something we must get straight right now, Sam,” Julian said gruffly, more than a little distracted by how nice her small, firm breasts felt against his chest, how sweet and clean her hair smelled. “I am not in love with you, child. Nor, even if I were so inclined, would I be free to indulge in such a … a … foolish fancy. I’m as good as engaged to Charlotte Batsford.”
Sam’s eyes flashed rebelliously. “As good as engaged, but not engaged. And, pray, why not? You could have asked her any number of times.”
She was right, but he’d no intention of analyzing his reluctance to pop the question to Charlotte. He countered with, “I’m old enough to be your father.”
“That could be said of several of the men who have pursued me recently, Julian,” Sam retorted. “You never raised objections to any of them because of a discrepancy in age. Besides, age means nothing in a relationship. Two people being alike is what matters.”
Julian gave a harsh laugh. “You call us ‘alike’? Don’t be absurd, Sam. Charlotte and I are alike. Calm, cool, collected.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Boring, stodgy, and far too controlled.”
“Hmph! If I’m so stiff-rumped, I’m surprised you find me at all attractive.”
While Julian still held fast to her forearms, Sam reached up and began to lightly stroke the lapels of his jacket. “You’re not stiff-rumped. Not really,” she said in a lilting tone, as if reassuring him. “Underneath that steely control you exert over your emotions, there’s so much passion, Julian.”
While Julian allowed it for reasons he did not completely understand, her hands wandered to the gap in his jacket. She slipped her hands into that gap and laid her palms flat against his chest. He could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin material of his shirt.
“You have so much heart hidden under this meticulously laundered muslin shirt,” she whispered, gazing earnestly into his eyes. “If you married Charlotte, so much would stay hidden. So much would be held inside—”
“Where it belongs,” Julian muttered.
“—and you’d never feel the freedom and the joy of truly letting go. Truly allowing yourself to feel.”
“I feel all I need to feel. A maudlin excess of sentimentality is not my style.”
“You’re afraid, Julian.”
Julian laughed again, but not as convincingly. “Afraid of what?”
“You’re afraid of losing control. You’re afraid of loving too much. And you know that you could never love me by halves. Charlotte would demand so little, but I would demand every fiber of your being and soul!”
“Every fiber?” he said dryly, hiding his desperation behind mockery. “You were always too greedy, Sam.”
“You tease and make fun of me because what I’ve just said frightens the very devil out of you, Julian Fitzwilliam Montgomery,” Sam accused.
“Not much frightens me,” he returned laconically. “Least of all a scrap of a girl like you who doesn’t know the difference between a man’s fatherly affection for his ward and true love.”
“Then kiss me, Julian,” Sam dared him, tilting her chin, her lips hovering an inch from his. “You kissed me once before, and you can’t deny you felt something, that I aroused you. Kiss me again, if you’re not afraid to, and show me by your lack of response that all you feel for me is the platonic affection of a guardian for his ward.”
Despite recent suggestion to the contrary, Julian was not a complete dolt. He knew the temptation of a dare had frequently led rational men down dangerous paths they would otherwise have assiduously avoided. And Charlotte had warned him against Sam’s innocent wiles and what they could accomplish.
But in this case, Julian reasoned that backing away from Sam’s dare would be a mistake. She would never be satisfied, she would never give up till he’d proved to her that their romantic destinies were not intertwined.
It was simple. All he had to do was kiss her and control his response. Despite the automatic urges that plagued all men when they held beautiful women in their arms, Julian was sure he could execute the kiss without losing his famous, and well-honed, control. He’d walked away from the last kiss, hadn’t he? He could do it again. And if he did feel something, he’d hide it.
Supremely confident that he was about to nip his ward’s ardor in its tender bud, he bent his head and kissed her.
The first shock of lips touching lips was a bit more startling than Julian remembered. As any young girl’s would be, Sam’s lips were soft and full and warm. But beyond the pleasant physical sensation he registered, there was something more … Something immediate and urgent. Something that welled in his chest and made him light-headed and shaky and dazed. Something that made him want to deepen the kiss and prolong it for as long as possible.
Be careful, old boy, whispered his celebrated self-control. But, for some strange reason, Julian found it quite easy to ignore that inner voice of caution. Especially when Sam parted her lips…
On a gasp of surprise and pleasure, Julian opened his eyes briefly and looked down at Sam’s flushed face. She appeared as absorbed in their kiss as he was. He closed his eyes again and released his hold on her arms, then slipped his hands around her slim waist, pulling her close. She fit perfectly against him, her soft curves nestling against his hard body as if she’d been created solely for his embrace. She must have thought so, too, because she twined her arms around his neck and pressed even closer.
The kiss deepened. Without a conscious decision to do so, Julian slipped his tongue inside Sam’s mouth and explored the silky textures within. And, just as she had the first time he’d kissed her, Sam eagerly accepted Julian’s advances and imitated everything he did.
She had always proved herself a fast learner, but Julian had never imagined himself sharing this particular educational experience with his pupil. Nor had he ever imagined himself enjoying a kiss with his ward like he was enjoying this one. They seemed so attuned to each o
ther, as if they’d kissed many times before … not just once. But there was still so much excitement, so much thrill in the discovery of each other.
Sam was in heaven. She had been wanting Julian to kiss her again for days. That first kiss had been a hurried one, but this time there was no one to interrupt them. Every night, she had been dreaming about being held in his arms again. Usually when your expectations are sky-high you are bound to be disappointed, but Sam was not disappointed in the least. Julian’s kiss was everything she remembered and more. It was certainly not platonic or fatherly. It was a scorcher.
Then there was the feel of him against her. So hard and strong and warm. Her body instantly responded. Her breasts tingled. Her heart raced. Her skin yearned to feel his touch on every part of her body.
She had clasped him about the neck, but now, as his mouth left hers and he began to trail kisses down her jaw, under her chin, and behind her ear, she slipped her arms around his taut waist and caressed his back and shoulders, which were fluid with muscle.
It was such a joy, such a luxury to touch where it had been so long forbidden! And her heart brimmed with happiness to know that he hadn’t stopped with one kiss. He was still kissing her, returning again and again to her eager mouth for more.
Julian tried hard to think clearly. But everything was a fog. He was so overpowered by the longings of his heart and body, the rational functioning of his brain was rendered useless. All he could do was “feel.” In fact, he felt so much it hurt. He thought his heart would burst with yearning.
Emotionally, he was confused and aching and longing for fulfillment. Physically, there was no confusion, but there was plenty of aching and longing for fulfillment. He wanted Sam more than he’d ever wanted another woman. He’d always been able to exert control over his body’s reaction and pace himself as a lover, but with Sam he’d become instantly aroused. Blood coursed through his veins and pooled in his loins. He hadn’t even touched her intimately and yet he was “ready.”
He couldn’t resist. He had to explore the curves that teased him so relentlessly as she pressed against him. His hands wended their way from her waist and around to the dip in her slim back. Then, in one slow, sensuous move, he slipped his hands over her small derriere and cupped the firm mounds of flesh.
