Once Upon a True Love's Kiss

by Julie Johnstone

  Henrietta's breath hitched involuntarily. Of the original coterie of Bishop's Castle hellions, only she, Harry, and Julian remained. One by one, Thomas Wiggington, Philip Usher, Daniel Codrington, and Nigel Barrett had all fallen to Napoleon. Only Julian had made it through the war relatively unscathed, at least on the outside.

  She shut her eyes at the sudden ache in her chest, feeling anew the loss of her childhood friends. When she opened them again, Julian stood beside her. He took her hand in his.

  "I'm sorry, Hen. That was bloody insensitive of me. What I meant to say is that things are different now. Why should I go and muck it all up when my factor has estate matters well in hand? Besides that, I would surely hang myself from boredom within a fortnight."

  "Is it so very bad for you, Julian? I thought you were happy here, that you enjoyed country pursuits—riding, fishing, and hunting with the hounds. I still do." She couldn't comprehend why he seemed to shun his ancestral home.

  "I did once," he confessed. "It was an ideal life when I was a boy, but things have changed. I'm changed, Hen. Indeed, the only things I'm any good at are cards and fu—" his cheekbones suddenly colored, "er… fighting. War does that to a man, and once it happens, there's no going back."

  She understood all too well. Her life had once changed due to circumstances beyond her control, and she could never get it back either. "So what shall you do?"

  "What I've done the past six years—survive one day at a time."

  "Surely there is more to life than mere survival, Julian," she said softly. "Do you truly believe you will never be happy?"

  He slumped back in the chair with a sigh. "What is happiness? I'm not even certain I remember anymore. What about you?" Julian asked. "What would make you happy?"

  "Freedom. Independence. A life in which I can do as I please," she answered. "I think that would make me very happy indeed."

  His brow wrinkled. "What do you mean by independence, Henrietta?"

  "Today marks my twenty-first birthday, Julian. Now that I have attained my majority, I fully intend to make some changes in my life. I'm beginning with a trip to London."

  His eyes widened. "Today is your birthday, Hen? I'm sorry I didn't remember."

  "It's no matter to me. I'm used to it by now!" She laughed. "No one else remembers. They are all too preoccupied with Harry and Penelope's wedding."

  Julian shook his head. "That won't do at all, Hen. If everyone is preoccupied, we'll simply celebrate it together."

  "But didn't you just tell Harry you were leaving for town?"

  "It can wait. Now," he took her hand. Henrietta gave a slight shiver as he caressed her knuckles with his thumb, "tell me how you wish to spend your day."

  "Come ride with me, Julian," Henrietta said, her gaze seeking his. "Let's both be happy."

  The Redemption of Julian Price: Chapter Two

  "RACE YOU TO THE LAKE?" JULIAN called out once Henrietta had settled her skirts.

  "Absolutely!" she replied, her gray eyes sparkling. "No one ever races with me anymore."

  Spurring the horses, they set out across the dales toward Julian's estate at a breakneck pace that not even Harry would have dared to match. Julian had planned to spare the whip and spur, but as usual, Henrietta more than held her own.

  Julian halted his horse beside the Price Hall fishing lake. Henrietta pulled up at his side. Her round face was flushed, and her tightly buttoned-up bosom rose and fell in rapid succession. It had been years since they'd raced, and those years had wrought many changes in the hoydenish Henrietta Houghton. He realized then that he'd never seen the womanly version of Henrietta in a riding habit. The fit of it left few of her lush feminine curves to the imagination, curves he became even more painfully aware of as he helped her to dismount from the saddle.

  "Do you remember our last summer here?" she asked.

  "Yes," Julian replied, vividly recalling that day. It was the first time he'd noticed her changing shape.

  "My entire existence altered after that, and not for the better," she added sadly.

  "How do you mean?" he asked.

  She handed him her bridle reins and bent to pick a Michaelmas daisy. "I lost my best friends," she said. "It was never the same between us after…" She cast her gaze downward as a hint of rose permeated her face.

  "How could it be once we realized?" he said.

  "Realized what, Julian?"

  "That you were becoming a woman."

  "But I was then, and still am, Henrietta," she insisted.

  "No, Hen," he argued. "You were one of the chaps, and then suddenly you weren't." He'd been particularly affected by the revelation. The image of her naked and nubile body beneath the wet shift had filled his adolescent dreams.

  "It wasn't fair," she said.

  "You have to understand the mind of an adolescent male, Hen. Thomas and I were on the verge of manhood, a time when natural urges often prevail over good sense."

  "Natural urges? What do you mean?"

  "Surely you understand what happens when a man sees a woman's breasts?"

  "No. I do not understand," she said. "Perhaps you could explain it to me?"

  Doffing his hat, Julian raked his hair with a sigh. "Must you make me say it? Are you really so innocent?"

  "I'm not ignorant of the fundamentals of procreation, if that's what you're asking," she replied, "but that doesn't mean I fully comprehend the process."

  Mumbling a curse, Julian directed his gaze heavenward. "Then I shall endeavor my best to explain it. When a man sees a woman in the flesh, or even thinks about a woman in the flesh, he becomes sexually aroused."

  "That's all it takes?" she asked, gaze wide.

  "Yes. Men are exceedingly simplistic creatures. We respond instinctively to visual stimuli."

  She averted her face and began plucking petals from the purple flower. "Are you saying that you and Thomas…"

  "Yes," Julian replied. "We both had unseemly thoughts about you after that."

  "Is that why you tried to kiss me at the fair?"

  "It is," he confessed. "I was acting on a natural urge."

  "To procreate?" she supplied.

  "Not precisely, Hen," he answered. "Contrary to what proper young ladies are taught, the act of procreation is much more than just a means of creating offspring. Coupling is extremely pleasurable, at least to a man."

  "Is it not pleasurable to a woman also?"

  "It can be," he replied. "Unfortunately, many women don't allow themselves to enjoy it."

  "That makes no sense!" Henrietta said. "Why shouldn't a woman take pleasure in it if she is also capable of doing so?"

  "Why not indeed?" His mouth twitched involuntarily.

  "I would want to," Henrietta said suddenly. "I would want to experience all that is possible in the marriage bed."

  Julian shut his eyes on a sudden vision of Henrietta sprawled naked in a bed… in his bed. He envisioned her with hair undone, arms stretched above her head, round white breasts exposed in invitation, and a sultry smile softening her quirky lips. He stifled a groan, wishing he could eradicate these lurid thoughts. She was one of his best friends for God's sake.

  He sat in silence, watching Henrietta pluck each petal from the hapless flower. He'd known her his entire life, but it was as if he were seeing the real Henrietta for the first time—the spirited, passionate young woman whose spark would soon be extinguished if her life did not change. Gazing at her now, he wondered why the devil she hadn't wed.

  Then again, since she'd come of age, most marriageable prospects had been off fighting Napoleon. She should have been happily married to Thomas Wiggington by now with a brat settled on her hip. Of all women, Henrietta deserved most to know a man's love and devotion. He'd vowed to keep Thomas safe the moment he learned of his friend's intentions toward Henrietta. There were no two people he cared more about, and who deserved happiness more than Thomas and Henrietta. But it was Thomas who had taken the bullet and fallen at Albuera—due to Julian's dereliction. He f
elt another flair of guilt, deep and sharp in his gut, for his failure to bring Thomas home to her. And because Julian had failed, Hen now had her mind set on spinsterhood.

  "What is it like?" she suddenly asked.

  "What is what like?" he replied carefully, wondering how the devil to extricate himself from this damnable line of conversation.

  "Coupling with another," she said.

  "It's impossibel to describe," he replied. "There is no other comparable experience."

  "Then I don't understand why so many women regard it as an unpleasant duty."

  "Perhaps some are soured by a clumsy first experience or by a selfish or insensitive lover."

  "I know the first time can be painful, but what do you mean by selfish and insensitive?"

  "Must we continue this conversation, Hen?" he pleaded. "It's damnably awkward."

  "Why?" she asked. "I have questions, and you have answers. There is no one else I can ask about these things. Do you honestly think Harry or my mother would tell me anything?"

  "What about your married sisters?" he suggested.

  She bent to pick another flower. His gaze lingered on the outline of her arse. To his chagrin, he was once more feeling stirrings below. Why was he having such lustful fancies about Henrietta when he had a willing mistress to warm his bed? Maybe that was the trouble? He'd been too long away from Muriel. But Muriel wasn't the one currently inspiring his sexual fantasies.

  "They would only blush and titter and speak in euphemisms," she continued. "All I want is to understand what I would be giving up if I do not wed." She lowered herself to the grassy bank and cast her gaze out over the shimmering water with a sigh. "They say one does not miss what ones does not know, but I don't think that's really true, do you?"

  "From a man's perspective, you would be right," he agreed. "The sexual drive is very strong in men. We instinctively know what we are missing."

  "But women don't?" she asked.

  He tied the horses and sat down beside her. "Perhaps some do," he agreed. "But those are generally women who make themselves available to satisfy men's lust."

  "You speak of prostitutes? But I thought you said any woman could enjoy… coupling."

  "It depends on both the man and the woman," he said. "If a man only seeks to satisfy himself, she is unlikely to experience any pleasure."

  "So a man must desire to please a woman?"

  "Yes, Hen."

  "Oh. That's interesting. I didn't know that. Does it also hurt a man the first time?" she asked.

  "No," he answered tersely.

  "So it's always pleasurable?"

  He hesitated and then shook his head, recalling the utter humiliation of his first sexual experience. "No. Not always."

  "You mean it wasn't for you?" she softly prompted.

  "It was at first, and then it wasn't," he replied.

  "I don't understand you," she said. "Would you please explain?"

  Julian hesitated to speak of what he had never shared with a soul, not even Thomas.

  "Please, Julian," she persisted.

  Suddenly restless, he stood and scanned the bank for a skimming stone. "Do you recall the week before my sixteenth birthday when Winston arrived with four carriages full of guests?"

  "Yes," she laughed. "Who could forget? He supplied the village with a year's worth of salacious scandal. Is it true what the servants said?"

  "That he hosted a week-long orgy? Yes, Hen. And once he realized it was my birthday, he took it upon himself to initiate me to manhood." It was only then that Winston even remembered his existence. In retrospect, Julian wished he hadn't. In that single week, Winston introduced Julian to all manner of vice—gaming, drinking, and whores. Eager for acceptance, Julian had embraced it all. He might have pitched completely into the moral abyss were it not for Thomas, who'd brought him back from the brink.

  "My first experience was at the hands of one of Winston's whores." He sent a stone bouncing over the water.

  "But you didn't enjoy it?" she asked.

  "I did until she recounted the experience in minute detail to the entire party. I was utterly humiliated while they all had an enormous laugh at my expense."

  "How cruel! I'm so sorry," she whispered.

  "Me too," he said.

  "Sometimes I try to imagaine what it must be like to be with someone that way."

  That remarked snagged his attention. "You fantasize, Hen?"

  "I don't know. Sometimes I have kissing dreams."

  "Kissing dreams?" he repeated. "And who exactly do you kiss in these dreams?" Was it Thomas or someone else? Did he really wish to know?

  "I don't know," she replied. "You know how vague dreams can be."

  Her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips. Was it a subtle invitation? Did Henrietta desire to be kissed? Julian tamped down the powerful urge to do just that. For once begun, he could never end it with just a kiss. He'd grown uncomfortably aware of her physically and feared he would soon be fully aroused. Kissing her could only end in ruin, shame, and disgrace.

  We should return now," he said abruptly.

  "But it's still early," Henrietta protested. "Can't we stay here for a while? Harry won't return for hours yet."

  "That is not what I needed to hear, Hen." He'd resisted the urge to kiss her her, but any more time alone with Henrietta would only be tempting the devil. "Let's go. Now." Before I do something I shall surely regret.

  HENRIETTA RETURNED FROM HER ride with Julian windblown, disheveled, and laughing so hard her ribs hurt. The past few hours had essentially evaporated the past six years. The time spent with Julian was all she'd hoped for—almost. There was that brief moment when she'd thought he might kiss her. She'd hoped fervently that he would, but he hadn't. Had it just been wishful thinking? Maybe she'd read it all wrong. What did she know of men and kissing?

  They drew up in front of the stables, where Julian dismounted and handed his horse off to the groom. "Thank you, Jules. I can't remember the last time I enjoyed a ride so much," she gushed.

  He reached up to assist her. Their gazes met as his strong hands closed about her waist. Her breath hitched as the laughter faded from his eyes. "I enjoyed it as well, Hen," he replied stiffly, setting her firmly on her feet and then stepping backward a bit farther than strictly necessary.

  Why the sudden formality? Although they'd had a wonderful time together, there was something different between them now, a strange and undefinable undercurrent. It had begun after the almost kiss. It felt very much like the last day they'd spent at the lake when she was thirteen. Nothing had been the same after that, and now it appeared to have happened again.

  "I wish we could do it again," she said wistfully. If only he would change his mind about staying in Shropshire. He was the only person in the world with whom she felt free to speak her mind and be herself. There was never any pretense with Julian. How wonderful it would be to spend more time together. Perhaps then she might have had a chance…

  "I would that we could also, Hen, but sadly, I must return to London."

  "When do you leave?" she asked.

  "This afternoon. I'm already packed. I need only hitch up my team."

  "I'll be leaving for Chelsea tomorrow on the Shrewsbury mail. Perhaps I'll see you in town?" she asked hopefully.

  "You leave tomorrow? I didn't realize you'd planned to travel so soon. When you mentioned London, I thought you were going after the wedding. Don't all females live to plan these things?"

  "Not this female." She laughed. "I despise it. In truth, I'm looking forward to escaping all of it."

  "If that's the case," he grinned, "let me be your means of escape."

  "Are you offering to drive me?" Henrietta asked.

  "Why not? We're going in the same direction. As late as it is, I may as well wait and depart tomorrow. Have you much luggage?" he asked.

  "Only a single trunk," she answered. "But I have Millie to think of."

  "Millie?"

  "My maid. I can't go alone, espe
cially not with you, Julian."

  His brow wrinkled. "Should I take exception to that?"

  "No," she said with another laugh. "It's nothing personal. It's just another one of those silly rules that apply to my gender."

  "If you only have one trunk, Millie can sit behind on top of it, providing she doesn't mind the cramped space. I daresay it'll still be more pleasant to drive with me in the open air than in a stifling mail coach full of flatulent farmers."

  "Must you be so crude, Julian?"

  "But it's true." He chuckled. "I've been in such a predicament, and it was most unpleasant."

  "What if it rains?" she asked.

  "Then I suppose we'll get wet. The offer is open to you if you are willing to take the chance. I'd enjoy the company," he said, "and you can then spend the fare you would have paid to the mail on something more enjoyable."

  "Thank you, Julian." She grinned back. "I think I would much prefer your company to the flatulent farmers."

  "How long will you be staying on in London?" he asked.

  "I'd planned on only a fortnight, but I have a feeling my aunt is going to ask me to continue on as a companion. I think this invitation was really to test how well I would suit her."

  "Is that your grand scheme, Henrietta?" Julian asked. "To throw your whole life away as a drudge to some old dragon? Is that what you really want?"

  "What are my options?" she replied. "If I remain at home, I'll be expected to care for Mama in her dotage and help raise Harry and Penelope's children. My life will eventually become little better than that of a servant anyway. If that is destined to be my lot, I'd rather spend a few years in London with Lady Cheswick. The sacrifice would not be without its reward. She has already promised me a generous annuity when she passes, enough that I should then be able to live as I choose." Henrietta heaved a sigh. "You don't know how lucky you are to have been born a man."

  "It is indeed too bad you weren't a chap, Hen. We rub along well enough that I would have invited you to stay with me."

  "But I'm not a man, Julian," she sighed sadly.

  "No," he replied, gaze narrowed. "You most definitely are not. Can you be ready to leave by eight?"