The Wagered Heart: Signet Regency Romance (InterMix)

by Rhonda Woodward

  “Thank you! We are most gratified by your invitation, Your Grace, are we not, Mariah?”

  After a few more niceties, the duke excused himself to attend to some of the other guests. Julia’s gaze met Mariah’s in shared amusement at how Mrs. Thorncroft continued to flush and stutter.

  Tonight must seem like a culmination of a long cherished dream for her dear friend’s mother, Julia thought with gentle amusement. She watched the dowager Lady Farren lead the newcomers off to meet some of the other guests.

  Julia deliberately hung back, for she desired a moment to think.

  Moving to the edge of the grassy area, she had an unobstructed view of the orchestra. A moment passed before Julia heard the swelling of stringed and woodwind instruments.

  For a little time, she stood there as the wave of musical notes enveloped her. As the melody began to fade, Julia saw from the corner of her eye the duke making his way toward her. Keeping her gaze fixed ahead, she felt the beat of her heart speed to a gallop.

  “I trust you are enjoying yourself, Miss Allard?”

  “Very much, Your Grace.”

  “Excellent. Lord and Lady Farren have just expressed a desire to take a turn around the rest of the gardens. I thought to join them if you will accompany me.”

  As he smiled down at her, Julia felt her heart catch a beat. At last! Here was her chance to have a few moments of privacy with him.

  “I would enjoy a walk, Your Grace.” She smiled into his eyes.

  This time, she would take her courage well in hand. Surely, by his seeking her out like this so pointedly, it evidenced a certain regard for her. Her confidence grew at this thought.

  With a thrill of excitement, Julia took the arm the duke offered and moved off with him to join Caro and Clive.

  This time she would not let any missish fears inhibit her desire to beguile the duke.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I n the deepening twilight, the duke and Julia walked down the graveled path, with Clive and Caro trailing behind. Reaching a narrow stone bridge, they paused, watching a child throw flower petals into the water below. Like tiny rafts, the petals floated along the canal that cut through Sydney Gardens.

  The festive glow from the colorful, paper-covered lanterns reflecting on the moving water added to the ambience of fantasy that filled the evening air. Glancing back, Julia smiled at the sight of Clive and Caro standing close together, gazing at each other passionately.

  “What makes you smile, Miss Allard?” the duke asked quietly.

  “My cousins,” she replied simply.

  The duke glanced back at the couple. “They are newly married, are they not?”

  “Yes, almost seven months now.”

  “Obviously, their affection for each other is great. They are fortunate.”

  “Yes, they are indeed fortunate.” At least Clive did not invite his mother to join them for their walk through the Gardens, she thought wryly.

  By this time, a half a dozen people joined them on the bridge, their raucous laughter jarring the intimacy that had gently surrounded the duke and Julia.

  “Shall we continue?”

  Nodding her agreement to his suggestion, Julia turned and walked with him over the rest of the bridge, to another path lined with colorful lanterns.

  In a short time, they left the boisterous little crowd behind. Soft night air silently enveloped them, and birds flying to roost for the night rustled the tree branches above them. Breathing deeply, the scent of night-blooming flowers assailed her senses.

  Keenly conscious of the duke walking next to her, Julia said nothing. It was odd, but no tension filled the silence between them. The excitement that had been building within her all week suddenly faded away. No longer plagued by anxiety, an unexpected sense of calm came over her.

  Glancing over her shoulder as they passed another couple, she noticed that they had left Caro and Clive somewhere behind. Pushing aside the possible consequences of her brazen actions, she kept walking with the duke.

  From a distance, music filled the air as the orchestra began a rich concerto.

  The blatant romance saturating the twilight touched Julia. Cutting a sideways glance up at the duke, she wondered how it would feel to be in this lovely setting with the man she loved.

  They continued along the serpentine, shrubbery-lined path that led deeper into the interior of the park.

  Without her realizing it, they had arrived at the ivy-covered stone alcove she and Caro had walked to on her first visit to the Gardens—the visit in which the duke had caught her unaware. The visit in which he had given her his insufferable excuse of an apology, she realized with a dull twinge of anger.

  Because of the deep gloom, she could not see the picturesque spring she knew was nearby. But she could hear the sound of bubbling water. Though people were probably within ten yards of them, this sudden sense of privacy caused another shiver to travel up her arms.

  She walked a few paces toward the alcove before realizing the duke had stopped nearer the overgrown hedge by the spring.

  Turning, she was able to study him from a safe distance. He was at his ease, his weight shifted negligently on his left leg. The dim glow of a lantern hanging from a low, bent tree branch near him provided little light. There was barely enough illumination to reveal his features. He was gazing at her with that perceptive, slightly raffish grin she was coming to know so well.

  Inhaling, she relished the luscious, heavy scent of jasmine. At the faint breeze skimming across her arms, she pulled her shawl a little higher around her shoulders and continued to gaze at the duke.

  His expression, though relaxed, was alert as he moved to lean his shoulder against the tree. She sensed that he was waiting for her to speak.

  A pleasurable shiver raced over her body. A night bird sang in concert with the distant melody of the orchestra.

  “How lovely.”

  Something in the deep timbre of his voice made the words a compliment to her, instead of the music.

  Struggling for a response, Julia wondered what it was about him that seemed to freeze the words in her throat.

  Her eyes searched his face in the soft golden lamplit glow. What did she really know of this man? Firmly, she reminded herself that she knew all she need to know.

  Suddenly, a sense of urgency gripped her. She wanted to get it over with—to have this desire for revenge exorcised. If she did not, she was convinced she would never feel like herself again.

  Slowly, she approached. When she was within a couple of yards of him, he pushed himself from the tree.

  “Yes, the music is lovely.” The husky tone of her own voice surprised her.

  She was close enough to see his lips quirk into a hint of a smile. “From our short acquaintance, I had not thought you to resort to coyness, Miss Allard. You know very well that I was not referring to the music.”

  Surprised by his bluntness, Julia could not prevent the mischievous smile from rising to her lips. “At the risk of being called coy again, I would say that it is the height of presumption to assume a seemingly general comment was meant to flatter me, Your Grace.”

  His rich laughter caused her smile to widen. “This is why I dislike complimenting a beautiful woman. She receives so many, any compliment must seem mundane.”

  “It depends on who is giving the compliment—and on the compliment itself. Flattery, no matter how prettily put, is indeed mundane. But a sincere compliment would always be appreciated.”

  He took a few steps closer to her. She did not retreat, and now there was less than a step between them.

  “There are many kinds of compliments,” he said softly.

  “Are there?”

  “Yes. For instance, the fact that you are with me now—after the insult I so foolishly handed you last year—is a great compliment.”

  The lightness of his tone caused her to lower her gaze from his. Oh, why had he brought up that kiss at this moment? His expression of regret divided her resolve. She now knew eno
ugh of his character to know that he was sorry for that day in London. But such was his innate arrogance that it was painfully apparent that he had never given any thought to what his actions may have cost her.

  Choking back the words bursting from her heart, she raised her eyes back up to his.

  “You have already apologized, Your Grace.”

  “You are a most extraordinary young lady, Miss Allard.”

  Unexpected warmth began to grow in the pit of her stomach as she watched his gaze settle on her mouth.

  “And I think you are an extraordinary gentleman,” she whispered.

  As naturally as the setting of the sun, the space between them disappeared.

  Finding herself suddenly in his arms, Julia felt a flash of panic. Every innate instinct told her to withdraw, to take care. But a wave of heat fogged her senses as she reminded herself of her desire for revenge. Relaxing, she did not resist the strength of his arms encircling her body.

  His face was close to hers, and she no longer felt that she could pull her gaze from his. The strong outline of his jaw and the faint glitter of his gaze seemed to mesmerize her. Welcoming this strange—yet extremely pleasurable—sensation, she slowly moved her hands up his chest, until her arms were around his neck.

  His arms tightened and she began to breathe fitfully. Feeling herself shiver in his embrace, she knew he was about to kiss her. As she waited, the warmth in the depths of her stomach spread through her limbs. This was nothing like that brief moment on Bolton Street. This was nothing like anything she had ever experienced.

  “What is your given name?” His husky voice slipped over her senses, and she relaxed against him even more.

  Closing her eyes against the depth of passion she saw in his, it took a moment to form the words. “Julia. And yours?”

  A smile teased at the corner of his mouth, his head dipped lower. “Gryffen. ‘Tis a family name from old, but I forbid you to use it. Call me Kel, Julia.”

  Gryffen. Julia. A faint alarm bell went off somewhere deep inside her befuddled senses. This whispered exchange of their names somehow felt even more intimate than the closeness of his embrace.

  Gryffen. His name fit him. But the fact that he interrupted the magical moment to ask her name showed more sensitivity than she wanted to believe he possessed. This unexpected knowledge dulled the new, sensual feelings that had gripped her a moment ago.

  Lifting her gaze to his, she looked at him in confusion. Doubt tried to surface through her churning emotions.

  The words Caro had used to warn her suddenly came to mind—“Have a care, while you are trying to make the duke lose his head, you may well lose yours.” Could this be what Caro had meant? This heady, heated feeling that befuddled her thoughts and took over her body?

  Yet, the wholly unexpected warmth and awareness of having his muscular arms around her, with her breasts crushed against his chest, made her reluctant to break from his embrace.

  The force of her unexpected reaction to him caused her another moment of panic. “I–I should not be here.”

  His arms tightened around her, and she saw a queer light enter his warm dark eyes.

  “You are correct, my dear Julia,” he said, lowering his head the last few inches that separated them.

  Holding her breath, she held completely still. With her arms around his neck, she admitted to herself that despite her confusion, she was not going to pull away.

  As his mouth descended to hers, she closed her eyes and lifted her lips to meet his. Thoughts of revenge flew far away as she melted into this newfound sensation of passion.

  The warmth of his lips stayed on hers for only a moment, before moving to the corner of her mouth, then to her cheek. With infinite gentleness, his lips trailed up to her temple, then finally rested upon her forehead.

  Feeling him pull back, she half opened her eyes to meet his glittering, passionate gaze.

  “You are right, Julia, you should not be here.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  G azing down into her silvery eyes, Kel allowed himself another moment to savor the feel of his arms around her slim torso before rebuking himself for this unexpected moment of poor judgment.

  Although long experienced in recognizing the signs of passion in a woman’s eyes, Miss Allard—Julia—was not a light skirt to be trifled with in this manner. Still, his gentlemanly intentions were at war with his body’s instinctive response to the fire sparking in the smoky depths of her languid gaze. At this moment it was almost impossible to believe that he ever thought her cold.

  Normally, he held himself, and his desires, in complete control. But here he was, in a place that afforded little privacy, with this stunning, mysterious woman in his arms.

  Her behavior confused and intrigued him. His finely honed senses could not dismiss the feeling that she was concealing something from him. Except for that brief moment in the Orange Grove, when she had teased him about gambling in that adorably dry way, he did not believe that she had ever behaved naturally with him.

  On the day he had apologized to her, she had seemed frozen. At the time, he had put it down to the unexpectedness of his appearance. But during tea at the dowager Lady Farren’s, he would have sworn that it was anger that had put a deep blush to her cheeks.

  Then, at the ball, she had completely baffled him with her warm—even bold—glances and welcoming smile. His curiosity had been piqued, and he admitted to himself that Miss Julia Allard was beginning to fascinate him. Her natural grace and unaffected confidence was an alluring change from the overly refined London miss, or coquettish opera dancer he usually encountered.

  It did not surprise him that he felt physical desire for her—he scarce knew a man who would not. But the desire to have a deeper knowledge of her character took him by surprise.

  Instinctively, he felt she was playing some sort of game with him. When he asked her to take a stroll around the park this evening, her nervousness had been almost palpable. Yet, she now invited his kiss.

  Feeling a strong temptation to kiss her properly, he decided that whatever the game, he was more than willing to enter into it.

  Even as he held her, feeling as if he could lose his bearings in the beauty of her eyes, he was aware of the folly of indulging his desires. He reminded himself that someone could come upon them at any moment. He cared not a damn for himself, but it would not do to have Julia embarrassed.

  No matter how inexplicable he found her behavior, it was his duty as a gentleman not to place her in a compromising situation, no matter how willing she seemed.

  “We should return,” he said softly.

  Self-conscious confusion instantly clouded her gaze. “Yes.”

  When she pulled back slightly, he immediately released her. Taking a step back, she made a show of fussing with her shawl.

  He smiled at her contradictory actions. A moment ago the light in her eyes promised a deep and pure passion that made him want to pull her back into his arms. Now he would swear that she was blushing.

  “My dear Julia, I do not believe you know your own mind.”

  Again, a look that was not quite confusion, not quite anger flashed in her gaze. “Of course I do.”

  The note of forced bravado did little to convince him.

  Not wanting to upset her further, he said nothing as they left the ivy-covered alcove. Stepping onto the path that led back to the little footbridge, he glanced at her face, revealed in the glow from the lanterns lining the path. “You are a very mysterious young lady.”

  The nervous tone beneath her brief laugh convinced him that he was correct in his assessment that she was concealing something from him.

  “You would be surprised at how transparent I truly am—there is nothing at all mysterious about me. You just do not know me.”

  “Then we should remedy that.”

  She made no comment to this as they continued along the path, passing a few couples and small groups of people enjoying the fine spring evening.

  “I am se
rious, Miss Allard. I am determined to solve the puzzle of you.” He saw the quick, uneasy glance she sent him.

  “That almost sounds like a warning.” Her little laugh sounded forced.

  “Not at all. A declaration. I take pleasure in solving mysteries.”

  “You are quite mistaken, Your Grace. As I said before, there is no mystery about me. I am a simple, straightforward person.”

  “You may be a number of things, but I’d wager simple and straightforward are not among them.”

  She directed the full force of her shadowed gray gaze at him. “And if you solve this so-called mystery, what then?”

  “I have the feeling another one would soon take its place.”

  He saw a quick flash of surprise cross her face, before she gave a dismissive shrug. “Why bother solving one mystery to just go on to another? That seems as if it would soon pall.”

  “It depends on the answer to the mystery. Some mysteries are endlessly fascinating.”

  In response, her steps quickened.

  They had reached the footbridge, where several other people where enjoying the view. The congestion forced her to stop.

  Leaning down slightly so no one else would hear, he asked, “Why suddenly so skittish?”

  She turned to him, her eyes glinting with a spark of anger. “I have never been skittish a day in my life, Your Grace.”

  Her tart tone caused him to chuckle. “Forgive me, you may be correct. I have often been surprised at your lack of skittishness.”

  He smiled into her searching gaze. She was the first to look away.

  “In truth, I have been surprising myself of late.”

  He caught the sigh in her words and frowned. Again, her enigmatic comment deepened the air of mystery about her.

  They crossed the bridge and meandered up the path, through the pockets of crowds, back to the torch-encircled area.

  “There you are!”

  In unison, the duke and Julia turned to see Lord and Lady Farren converging onto the path. Lady Farren was looking at them with an avidly curious expression.