Forbidden

by Jess Michaels

  He laughed. “I think I am the wrong person to ask.”

  She held back another sigh. Jude was the perfect person to ask, for he was the only man who had ever held her interest for more than a few fleeting moments. Which meant she should stay far, far away from him.

  And yet she couldn’t.

  “Well, at any rate, you must promise to make it bearable while we’re here, Jude. Help me forget all the others, will you?”

  She expected his laughter to continue, for him to tease her, bringing them back to the comfort that normally existed between them. But instead his face faltered a bit and he stepped away.

  “I am only here to oversee, Lady Audrey. But I do hope you’ll have an enjoyable trip.” He stepped back. “Good day.”

  She wrinkled her brow in utter confusion as he turned his back and walked away toward the stables, leaving her on the drive as if she had been dismissed.

  “Are you coming, Audrey?” her mother called, poking her head out the door.

  She shook away her embarrassment and confusion at Jude’s odd behavior and forced herself to trudge up the stairs to join her mother.

  Years before, when Edward asked Jude to be his man of affairs, one of the perks of that job had been that Edward took care of Jude’s lodging. In Briarlake Cross, that meant Jude had a cottage all his own. Under normal circumstances, that was just a place to lay his head while he took care of estate business. Today it had been his place to hide.

  Oh, he could have gone inside and taken supper with Audrey and her mother, as he should have since Audrey had made mention of his avoiding supper at the inn the night before. He should have taken care of questioning servants and observing the work already done on the various rooms and outside areas being renovated during their time here.

  But that had proven impossible. Thoughts of Audrey had kept him away, burning for her. Trying to find a way to forget his desire for her that had only been stoked since his return to London.

  And now he stood in the bedroom of that same cottage, staring at a bed made for two and wishing Audrey was here with him. That Audrey had been stripped naked. That Audrey was beckoning to him with those elegant hands and offering herself to him.

  He swore as his cock eased to attention under his breeches.

  “This has to stop,” he reminded himself. And yet he ached for her. Ached for the fantasy of spreading her open, feasting on her sweet flesh, plunging into her tightness, her wetness, and claiming her for his own at last. Just as he had been wishing he could do for what seemed like forever.

  What would please her? He had often mused on that subject when he looked at her. A secret wickedness that always led to thrashing, sensual dreams later. Would she gasp if he sucked her nipples? Would she arch when he kneaded her backside. Would she cry out his name when he stroked his tongue over her sex?

  These thoughts were so damned out of control now. He couldn’t stop them. Couldn’t stop thinking of bending her over his bed, sliding inside of her in one long, slick thrust and then taking her and taking her.

  He looked down. At some point in his musings, he had loosened the fastenings on his trousers and dropped the flap. His cock rose up, taunting him with its needs, daring him to continue taking Audrey in his mind until he was satisfied.

  And he shouldn’t do it, but he did. He took himself in hand firmly, hissing out pleasure as he fisted the tender, aching root and began to stroke. He thought of Audrey on her back beneath him, her breath short and her cheeks flush with pleasure. He thought of her straddling him, riding him astride with her head dipped back and her dark hair wild around her shoulders as she came and came. He thought of her with her back against the wall, her legs and arms tangled around him as he took her slowly, their eyes locked with every smooth thrust.

  It was too much and the jerk of his hand over his cock became erratic. He groaned out her name as his hot seed spurted free onto his hand, onto the sheets of his bed. With a panting moan, he collapsed forward, bracing himself on the mattress as he cleared his mind at last of thoughts of Audrey’s surrender.

  Those fantasies would tide him over, at least for a little while. But he knew they would be back. And even sooner if he saw Audrey. Which he would often do in the next three weeks.

  And he feared at some point, he wouldn’t be able to control the fact that his fantasies were becoming harder to ignore. Mixed with his guilt, they were a potent cocktail that could easily poison everything good in his life.

  Jude stopped outside the breakfast room door and took a few long breaths to calm himself. Inside that door he would find Audrey and her mother, and he needed to be calm and unaffected when he faced them. It was a difficult task as it was, and even harder when Audrey’s focus seemed to be so firmly on him at present.

  She had no idea the effect that focused regard had on him. Would probably be horrified if she did. She saw them as old friends—she would recoil if she knew he’d spent a night in the cottage he kept on the estate, thinking of her while he brought himself pleasure. And why wouldn’t she? She was a lady, after all, and not meant to be considered a toy for his sexual needs.

  He had to control himself. And the first way to do that was to shove all those inappropriate thoughts back, as far away as he could. With renewed purpose, he entered the breakfast room with what he hoped was a serene expression. But all his good intentions faded when he scanned the room and found Audrey standing at the sideboard.

  She turned as he entered the room—and his breath was stolen from his lungs. She wore a sunny yellow-and-white striped gown. The bright colors served to bring out the chestnut highlights in her brown hair and make her expressive eyes even more alluring.

  “Jude,” she said, setting her plate down on the sideboard and taking a step toward him with a smile. “Good morning. I’m so glad you’re here. I feared I’d have to take my breakfast alone.”

  He blinked and made a second glance around the room. Lady Woodley was not in attendance.

  “Where is your mother?” he asked.

  Audrey frowned. “Right after our arrival, she got very tired and hasn’t felt herself since. She didn’t even rally for supper last night.”

  Jude’s heart leapt at the news that the woman who had been nearly as much a mother to him as his own was not well. “Has a doctor been called?”

  Audrey shook her head. “No doctor yet. Mama believes it might be nothing more than a reaction to the long journey and all the excitement related to the renovation. If she is not better soon, though, I will insist upon calling for Dr. Dunbar.”

  Jude pressed his lips together. “I agree. Don’t let it go on too long.”

  “I wouldn’t, I promise you.”

  He wrinkled his brow as he thought again of her words. “Wait, did you say that your mother was stricken by this illness before supper?”

  She nodded. “I did, yes.”

  “Then did you have supper by yourself?”

  She shifted her weight with discomfort. “I—yes.”

  “Where?” he asked, but already knew the answer.

  “In—in the cavernous dining hall,” she admitted.

  He caught his breath. “All alone?” When she nodded, he shook his head. “Audrey, why didn’t you send down to the cottage for me? Both to help you with your decisions regarding your mother and so that you wouldn’t have to eat alone.”

  She seemed to ponder that question for a moment. Then she lifted her chin with the strength and defiance he had become obsessed with so many years ago. “To be honest, Jude, I-I didn’t think you wanted to be disturbed. Especially by me.”

  He stepped back in surprise at both her statement and the flicker of pain in her eyes as she said it. “Why would you believe that?”

  She shrugged. “You all but ran away yesterday after our arrival, and when you did not reemerge, I had to assume I offended you somehow during our conversation on the drive.”

  Jude moved toward her. God, how he wanted to comfort her, but there was no way to tell her the trut
h about why he stayed away from her.

  “Audrey, I assure you, you’ve done nothing to offend. I was tired after the journey and getting settled in at the cottage. I had no idea your mother was unwell, or I would have come up and had supper with you.”

  She worried her lip, drawing his attention to the full mouth that seemed so very kissable. “Well, that is a relief, I must say,” she sighed. “And now that my fears are settled, I suppose we must discuss our plan of attack.”

  He poured himself some coffee and sat down at the breakfast table. “Plan of attack?”

  She nodded. “Mama gave me some instructions this morning about the formerly pink parlor and the changes she would like to see done to it. I wondered if you might help me as I address them?”

  Jude blinked. Of course he had been sent here to assist the women in whatever way they required. But he had been expecting to have Lady Woodley as a buffer between him and Audrey. Her presence would have been the bucket of ice water he needed to cool his inappropriate desires.

  But now Audrey was asking him to come to her assistance on his own. To spend time with her in close quarters without anything but his own conscience to stop him from acting a fool. He wasn’t certain that part of him was strong enough right now.

  “You—you don’t want to wait for your mother?” he asked.

  Audrey shrugged. “She told me this morning that it might be a day she is in bed, but it might also be a week if it is a cold that has stricken her, and we are here for such a short time, we cannot afford to wait.”

  He clenched his teeth. “Very well.”

  Once again, Audrey’s face reflected hurt. “Samson, please tell me the truth. Did I do something to offend you?”

  “No, I already told you, of course not,” he retorted, perhaps more sharply than he should have.

  She folded her arms. “Don’t say of course not. I have eyes and ears. You don’t seem happy in the slightest to be here, despite all your explanations about being tired. So please give me the courtesy of the truth this time.”

  Jude arched a brow. He had forgotten how bold Audrey could be. “So direct,” he said softly.

  The fire flickered out of her stare and she blushed. “One can be so with…with a friend.”

  “A friend,” he repeated and his voice was as stiff as he now felt. That was what he was to Audrey. A friend. Nothing more. He had to stop being foolish about anything else. “And we are friends.”

  “I hope so,” she whispered.

  He nodded. “We are. If I have been untoward, I do apologize. In truth I—” He cut himself off, searching for a lie that had more truth in it than before, to placate her. “Well, I was not expecting Edward to be on the cusp of marriage when I returned to London. Nor did I expect to be sent on this important mission of decoration immediately. I am a bit out of sorts, but it isn’t right to take it out on you.”

  She smiled and the relief was palpable on her face. “I’m glad it isn’t something I’ve done. And I promise you, this duty could be fun.”

  It was hard not to smile as her face came back to life and her grin lit up the room. Even though he doubted anything about the next few weeks would be “fun”.

  “Could it?” he asked.

  She laughed and her eyes danced. “We’ll make it so, Jude. I promise.”

  “Oh, all right,” he agreed, throwing up his hands in surrender.

  She caught one in both of hers, apparently unaware of the sparks that shot up his arm when she touched him. “Come on!” she insisted and all but dragged him from the room.

  He followed, but when she wasn’t looking his face fell again. He was playing with fire. And he feared they would both get burned.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Audrey had never cared overly much for her brother’s fine phaeton. She thought it a showy vehicle and one that went far too fast. But today, sitting so damn close to Jude, she actually liked it. The sun on her face and the spicy, wonderful smell of Jude’s skin was a wonderful combination. Her leg bumped his as he maneuvered around a turn, and her heart actually fluttered. Like she was some silly heroine in a novel.

  She cleared her throat. “So, where did you go?”

  He jolted as if he had forgotten she was there, and if she were honest with herself, he probably had. After all, she was just a friend to him, one he didn’t want to spend that much time with. His mind was probably miles away. Perhaps even on some lady.

  Hopefully not a lady he had been calling on while he was away. Would he tell her if it was? Did she want to know? Oh God, why had she asked?

  “Go?” he asked, mercifully pushing into her wild thoughts. “When?”

  She looked at him from the corner of her eye. “Before my brother’s marriage. When you were gone for a month. Where did you go?”

  He was quiet for what seemed like an eternity, shifting in the driver’s seat enough that the horses picked up their pace in response. Her heart sank as she waited for his answer, more and more certain than ever that he would tell her he had a lover or a fiancée or a damned wife she didn’t know about.

  “I went to see my mother,” he finally said.

  She leaned forward. “Oh, how is she? I haven’t seen her in an age!”

  “She—she has been unwell,” he said, his voice very soft.

  Now she pivoted and faced him fully. “Oh, Jude. I’m so sorry to hear that. Is there something I can do?”

  He frowned. “No, I’m afraid not. It is her hands—if you recall, she struggles from arthritis.”

  Audrey did recall that fact, just as she seemed to recall all the personal facts about Jude that she had squirreled away through the years.

  “Well, I shall write her a letter, at least,” she said with a nod. “I would love to hear from her.”

  “She would like that very much, I’m sure. And she will write back,” he said, his smile suddenly wider. “Though she will use her maid to do it.”

  Audrey frowned at that news. It was terrible to hear Mrs. Samson was unwell. It certainly explained Jude’s distraction as of late. She might have pressed more, asked more, even offered some kind of comfort to him, but before she could they rounded the last long bend and the little village of Idleridge came into view. It was a small hamlet, but utterly charming with its adorable buildings, decorated with swirls and filigrees.

  “And here we are,” Jude said as he maneuvered the rig down the narrow main street and stopped it in front of the first store he came to. “What shall we do?”

  He stepped down as he asked the question and Audrey waited to respond until he had come around the vehicle and offered a hand up to assist her.

  “Mama has a chaise that’s been delivered into Mr. Martin’s care,” she explained. “But she wants me to look at it before it is delivered to be certain it’s right. And then I want to shop for fabric to re-cover the settee to match.”

  She looked up to find an expression of utter horror on Jude’s face. She couldn’t help it—she began to giggle, then laugh. He scowled at her and she covered her mouth so to not make the situation worse.

  “You look like you bit into a tart and found it salty instead of sweet,” she teased, unable to keep the laughter from her voice.

  “I did not know I would be dragged from store to store,” he grumbled, but she thought she saw a twinkle in his dark blue eyes despite his grousing.

  “You will survive, I promise you. And if you are very good, I’ll buy you a biscuit. Mrs. Fleming has those chocolate ones you like so much.”

  “Bribery with food will not work,” he said, folding his arms.

  She shook her head. “Then what could I offer to tempt you?”

  She waited for him to tease her, to continue the light banter they had begun. But instead his expression suddenly grew very heated and his gaze slipped slowly and oh-so-seductively to her lips. But he couldn’t be doing that. He couldn’t be looking at her with such a hunger, one that mirrored the one she tried to squash in herself regularly.

  Then he sho
ok it off. “Well, perhaps a biscuit will do after all,” he said, but his voice was gruff and he didn’t offer to take her arm as he motioned her toward Martin’s shop.

  She was happy for that fact in that moment. Because she knew, as much as she knew the color of her eyes or hair, that if he had touched her, she just might have done something she would have regretted.

  Jude stood beside the shop door, leaning against the window as he watched Audrey. She stood side by side with Mr. Martin, the longtime proprietor of the shop, looking together at the infamous chaise that Jude could not have cared less about. It looked like a chair to him, a very comfortable chair, of course. And blue. What else was there to say?

  Apparently a great deal, for Audrey had been standing just out of the range of his hearing, chatting with the older man for a good ten minutes about it. Under normal circumstances, Jude would have been made restless by being forced to wait for something so foolish. Today he was not. Today he merely stood back, enjoying the tilt of Audrey’s head as she looked at the chaise from a new angle and compared it to one of the swatches of fabric in her hand. When she smiled at something the shop-keep said, Jude mirrored her expression instantly.

  This was all getting very much out of hand. Why, he didn’t know. After all, he had wanted Audrey since the first moment he saw her. But it had never risen to the surface like this before. Never been so out of control before.

  She turned and suddenly her dark brown eyes locked on his, putting into focus every feeling or desire he’d ever had for her. Then she smiled. “Samson, will you help me here?”

  He moved toward her instantly, unable to resist her call. “What is it?” he asked.

  She held up two pieces of fabric for his attention. “I cannot pick between them. Will you offer your advice?”

  He stared at the two little squares in her delicate hands. Hands he wished would smooth over his skin. “Er, well, the white with the blue stripe is nice.”

  Mr. Martin nodded swiftly. “Your husband has very good taste, my lady.”