This was getting out of hand, and it had to stop. Every time he kissed her, another brick fell from the wall in his heart; another crack appeared. He had no control where she was concerned.
When he’d seen her sitting on Daisy, her coppery hair shining in the sunlight, framing her face in soft waves and making her look even more beautiful than ever, he’d been utterly captivated. Her eyes, brightened by the thrill of their activities, were huge and sparkling like the purest emeralds, and her lips still held their sweet smile.
She was glorious.
He could not understand what was happening to him. He had been so sure he would never, ever again meet a woman who could affect him so much.
Isobel had been an infatuation. Nothing more than boyhood lust and dreams of the type of love great poets lamented.
Julia? Julia, he feared, had the potential to make him feel those emotions he so despaired of in men like Edward and Tom.
Her innocent passion once again consumed him.
Dear God! Had she any idea what she did to him?
Her tongue danced boldly with his own… her arms wound round his neck, pulling him closer… her hands slid into his hair…
Charles felt as though he were hanging onto his control by his fingertips.
Earlier, when she’d called him Charles, when he’d been so close their breaths mingled, he’d thought he’d die if he didn’t hold her in his arms, kiss her with all he possessed.
And that thought scared the wits out of him. So he’d found the strength to pull away.
But, sweet heaven, a man was only so strong!
Her beauty, the elation radiating from her was too much. It snapped the very last vestiges of fear and of common sense.
He, quite simply, had to taste her. And he was fast coming to realise that one taste was never going to be enough.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JULIA COULD HAVE KISSED him forever.
He had taken possession of her very soul. Every thought, waking or sleeping, was of him.
She had come to crave his touch, need his kiss as though it were a drug.
She would not call it what she thought it was.
It was far too soon, and Julia knew better than to ever let herself love someone.
And yet…
She was consumed by him, set on fire with his touch. Her heart soared with his every smile.
She was every kind of stupid. And she cared not a jot.
Suddenly, he wrenched his mouth from hers and took a step back.
“Christ, Julia,” he said hoarsely, his breathing as laboured as her own. “You’d tempt a saint to sin. We have to stop.”
Julia barely listened to his words. Still trapped in the throes of passion and desire, she leaned forward, missing the contact between them.
Charles threw up his hands as if warding off her advances. The actions looking so like those of an innocent maiden that Julia, in spite of the seriousness of the situation, burst out laughing.
“What are you laughing at?” he asked, sounding mightily affronted.
His tone only served to make her laugh more.
Charles crossed his arms and looked at her sternly. Julia knew she should not laugh; after all, if she’d had her wits about her, she would have realised the seriousness of standing in broad daylight kissing a man as though her life depended on it.
She suspected that her laughing was somewhat hysterical. She was fast becoming very attached to this man, and no good could come of that.
Charles took a step toward her, uncrossing his arms as he came, and suddenly, without warning, Julia got a vision of her father, looming over her, his hands rising to strike.
Julia instinctively flinched, ducking her head behind her hands, her laughter turning to a shriek of fright.
There was a moment of complete, stunned silence.
Julia realised immediately what she had done and, feeling slightly sick about what she must have given away by her actions, raised her head slowly to face Charles.
It was just as she feared.
Charles look both shocked and horrified.
Julia felt tears of humiliation burn her eyes. She had no idea what to say. Had no clue how to make this better, how to make it go away. In the briefest of moments, this had gone from one of the best afternoons of her life to a complete disaster.
“Julia,” Charles voice was low and hesitant as if he were afraid of scaring her.
And that made her feel a hundred times worse.
Of course he would never hurt her, she knew that.
“Why did you flinch away from me? Did you think I would strike you? Why do you think I would ever hurt you?” He sounded so confused, so hurt even, that Julia could no longer bear to be around him.
With a sob she turned and mounted Daisy, scrambling onto the horse’s back and pulling her round in a matter of seconds.
“Julia, wait.” Charles took a step forward.
But Julia wouldn’t wait. She could not deal with his questions, his confusion. Worst of all, his pity.
Refusing to look at him, she kicked her heels into Daisy’s flanks and sped off down the hillside and back toward the Hall.
She’d ruined everything. He would demand answers now. Answers Julia did not want to give.
CHARLES WATCHED JULIA SPEED down the hill and out of sight, his heart hammering with fear for her safety. Good God, the horse would surely throw her if she kept up that ridiculous speed.
She rode as though the hounds of hell were after her. Did she think he was following?
Was she afraid that he was following?
Charles had rarely felt so horrified in his life. Had he been too rough with her? Had he mistreated her? Scared her?
She had seemed to be as attracted to him as he was to her. But perhaps she wasn’t.
He shook his head in self-disgust.
Never had he felt as low as he had when she’d flinched away from him. Or when she’d looked at him, her face white, and her eyes huge and hollow. He’d felt that look like a punch to the gut.
But she’d never given any indication of being scared or uncomfortable with him up until that point, and he’d certainly given her no reason to mistrust him.
Charles began to make his way back to the Hall, his mind whirling with thoughts and questions he could not answer.
He would go straight to the stable to make sure she got back safely. Then he would try to get some answers from her.
The more he thought on it the more confused he became.
Today had been one of the most enjoyable days of his life. In fact, he’d begun to panic a little at how much he’d enjoyed it.
Even when she’d been laughing at him, he’d been mightily offended but, at the same time, utterly charmed by the sound of her laughter and beyond pleased that she was laughing with him and not that dolt, Trent.
The scene played over and over in his head, the image refusing to be removed.
All he’d done was step forward, uncross his arms.
The house came into view, the sight usually so calming to him doing nothing to ease his mind today.
Something wasn’t adding up. Something wasn’t right.
Julia had been afraid, but Charles was sure it wasn’t of him.
So, if not him, who?
He had no idea, but he was determined to find out.
JULIA THREW HERSELF FROM the horse as soon as she reached the stable and, without waiting to acknowledge the stable hand’s greeting, fled to the house and the safety of her bedchamber.
Oh, what had she done? How could have been so stupid?
Charles would hound her now, she was sure, and he was entitled to. Entitled to know why she had acted the way she had. Entitled to know why she feared him.
But she didn’t fear him. She knew he would never hurt her. At least not physically. Her reaction had been an instinct born of years of self-preservation and fear.
And now, well, now she would have to admit the ugly truth. Speak words that she had never spok
en out loud. And speak them to the one person she would rather die than have to tell. For, she knew, he would be disgusted.
He would either be so horrified that he would avoid her at all costs, or possibly worse, treat her like a damaged doll, vulnerable and piteous. Both were abhorrent to her. Both meant that whatever it was that had started to blossom between them was over.
The pain that lanced through her at that thought took Julia’s breath away.
Good God, how could it hurt so?
She did not know him long enough to love him, did she?
A myriad of emotions swirled through her: a mixture of panic, fear, and distress, and, strangely, a glimmer of happiness.
Perhaps she felt happiness at such an inappropriate time, because although her feelings for him were as useless as they were unexpected, for nothing could ever come of them, it was nice to know that her treatment at the hands of her cronies and his cohorts had not left her dead inside, as she had once believed.
So, she still had a heart. She still had the ability to love.
What a shame it was completely wasted on a person she could never have.
CHARLES GLANCED UP AT the sound of approaching footsteps but was disappointed to see that it was only his mother’s arrival he had heard.
“Good evening, dearest,” his mother said pleasantly.
Charles moved to greet her and was momentarily distracted from his worry as he studied the older woman’s appearance.
The arrival of the dowager and Julia had been good for the countess.
Her step was lighter; her face held the trace of a smile rather than that shadow of sadness that even Charles himself still felt.
A pang of guilt shot through him. He should have been the one to brighten his mother’s day, given her love and attention.
Instead, he’d been running away every chance he got, burying his grief and his self-doubt in alcohol and women.
“Mother, you look beautiful,” he said, kissing her cheek affectionately.
The countess smiled her pleasure.
“Thank you, my dear,” she said happily, obviously pleased at the compliment. “Though this dress is fast becoming unfashionable. The dowager and I were just discussing a trip to Dublin for some shopping.”
“Indeed?” he asked politely, though his gaze wandered frequently to the door. He was eager to see Julia, to ensure that she was all right. Hell, he was eager to see her just because he enjoyed looking at her!
“Yes, we thought to wait until your sisters arrive, and then we shall all go and stay in a hotel or inn on the way. How wonderful it will be! And, of course, we will do our level best to convince Miss Channing to purchase some new gowns. ‘Tis such a shame to waste a beauty like hers on drab clothes and unflattering colours.”
Charles’s attention was caught at the mention of Julia, and a shaft of desire ran through him as he visualised her in rich, jewel-coloured satins and velvets. She was already incredibly beautiful. Were she to highlight her beauty, his heart would probably give out. It was vastly inappropriate to be thinking such things in front of his mother, but Charles was fast learning that his feelings and thoughts were beyond his control when it came to the delectable companion.
The sound of yet more footsteps had his heart rate picking up, and he almost swore aloud when he saw not Julia but the dowager enter.
He greeted her pleasantly before enquiring as subtly as he could about Julia.
The knowing smile that his mother and the dowager shared, however, would have led someone to believe that he’d confessed his innermost feelings about the lady. And those feelings were not something he wished to speak of to his mother of all people. Or her incorrigible friend.
“Miss Channing makes her apologies. Unfortunately, a headache has rendered her unable to join us this evening.”
“Oh, I do hope she is well,” said the countess. “She seemed in such good spirits earlier today. How was she on your ride, Charles?”
Charles thought guiltily of his explosive kiss with Julia followed by her erratic and fearful behaviour.
“Fine,” he mumbled, not making eye contact with his mother before turning to the dowager. “Did you check on her? Is she — is she all right?”
Charles couldn’t know that as much as he tried to keep his tone neutral, his concern was etched on his brow, his worry evident in his gaze.
The dowager smiled kindly.
“Yes, she will be fine. She was a little pale and seemed rather bleak, but that is to be expected when one is feeling so ill. No doubt, she will rally soon enough. I’ve not known her to be anything other than the picture of good health since she came to live with me.”
“Perhaps it was too much exercise,” offered the countess.
“Yes, indeed. Though she said the day was very enjoyable.”
“She did?” jumped in Charles eagerly, before checking himself in the face of the scheming looks of the two ladies.
“Yes, very,” said the duchess. Then after a pause, “Of course, she said the same about her outing with Mr. Trent so—”
The sound of shattered glass and Charles’s none-too-subtle swear broke off her speech.
“Good heavens, Charles. Are you well?” The countess jumped up in concern as the glass Charles had been clutching in a vicelike grip at the dowager’s words suddenly smashed, spilling amber liquid and splinters of glass all over his hand.
A short scuffle ensued as the countess tried to fuss over him, Charles batting her away like a petulant child, and Murphy, the elderly butler, trying to mop him up and oversee the cleaning of the glass all at the same time.
The dowager merely sat back, watching the pantomime before her.
“Enough,” Charles finally bellowed, causing an immediate cessation in activity.
There was a moment’s silence before Murphy’s voice announced dinner.
Without a word, Charles walked into the dining room, forgetting his manners and offering no escort.
Neither lady minded in the slightest, if their expressions of amusement were anything to go by. They were apparently enjoying developments far too much.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE DAYS PASSED IN relative peace, and Julia began to relax again. She had made sure to avoid being alone with Lord Ranford at all costs, much to her relief and his displeasure.
When she had come to breakfast the night after their kiss, he had been extremely attentive, enquiring after her health and studying her with those intensely blue eyes.
Mercifully, the dowager and countess had both been present, so a brief and impersonal answer had been sufficient. Judging by his frown and subsequent brooding silence, Charles had not agreed.
‘Twas of no matter, really. It meant a reprieve. She did not have to disclose her horrifying past and still was able to enjoy being in his company. True, it was only at mealtimes and in the company of his mother and her employer, but it was enough.
There was no longer any question of it; Julia had fallen irrevocably in love with the arrogant, rakish earl.
Was it the height of stupidity? Yes.
Was it almost guaranteed to lead to her heartbreak? Absolutely.
But she could not help her feelings, and so she would enjoy looking at him, bask in his brief and perfectly polite attentions, and do her best to lick her wounds in private.
Today though, there was cause for Julia to feel happy.
Today, Caroline and Mr. Crawdon would arrive. Julia grinned in excitement at the thoughts of their arrival as she sat at the vanity, dutifully holding still as a young maid pinned her hair up.
Julia conceded that she had lost the battle with the countess of having a maid attend her.
For the past few days, the young downstairs maid had arrived in the mornings and again in the evenings under various pretences, always managing to convince Julia to allow her to assist with dressing.
Finally, Julia had asked the question she knew the answer to.
“Is her ladyship sending you here to attend me, Mol
ly?”
The young girl had shaken her head in denial, but her bright scarlet cheeks had given her away. And Julia felt sorry for her. Of course, she would do what her mistress had asked of her.
Besides, it was rather nice having someone to help her again.
So she had smiled kindly and thanked the girl. And the arrangement had continued, the guise of accidentally assisting Julia dropped.
The countess should have been a military general, Julia had thought ruefully; she could out-strategize Wellington himself.
“You’ve the most beautiful hair, Miss Channing,” Molly said, happily pinning Julia’s rich red curls to the nape of her neck.
Molly had stated her desire to practice her skill of elaborate hairstyles on her, but Julia had stoutly refused. A simple knot was all she would allow. Besides, a fashionable hairstyle would look ridiculous with her dull gowns.
“I do wish you’d allow me to do something with it.”
“We’ve discussed this,” Julia reminded Molly gently. “And please, do call me Julia.”
Before Molly’s refusal had even left the girl’s mouth, Julia had known it was coming.
All of the servants treated her as a guest, despite her initial protestations, and Julia was learning it was easier to accept it than constantly insist she was one of them.
Besides, one of them wouldn’t be kissing the master of the house, would she?
No thinking of Charles, she scolded herself. At least, not during the day. Her dreams were an entirely different matter.
“All done.” Molly’s voice snapped Julia out of her wayward thoughts.
“Thank you, Molly. I must check if the dowager needs me. I believe she is rather overexcited about the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Crawdon.”
“The whole household is, Miss. ‘Tis nice to see her ladyship excited again. She was so very sad when the old earl passed on, God bless her. And, of course, she was that worried about his lordship,” rambled on Molly.
Julia had been about to stop her with a gentle reminder that to gossip about the gentry, especially those who employed you, wasn’t a good idea.
Mysterious Miss Channing (Ranford Book 3) Page 9
