by Monica Burns
“Having an affair is not the same thing as living,” Catherine said quietly.
Silence filled the theatre box as she met her cousin’s sympathetic gaze. She swallowed her embarrassment as she tried to find her voice. “How did…who else knows?”
“There’s been a small amount of talk, speculation really. I wasn’t even certain myself until just a few moments ago when I saw the way the two of you looked at each other.”
“It’s over,” she said tersely.
“Is it?” Catherine reached over and touched her arm. “From your reaction, I’d say it was far from over.”
“I cannot and will not allow myself to let any man control me ever again. The price is too high.” She bit her lip at the thought of giving herself up to Morgan’s control, his masterful lovemaking, the safety of his arms. He was different from Oscar. Logic told her that. But emotionally, she did not want to face the prospect of giving up command over her own destiny.
“Is that what really frightens you, or are you afraid to risk trusting him and yourself?”
Turning her head toward Catherine, she shook her head in disbelief. “Are you suggesting that I open myself up to such a risk?”
“What I’m suggesting is that you trust yourself to be with him simply because he makes you happy.
“It’s…it’s impossible.” She snapped her feathered fan closed with an abrupt movement.
“Happiness is never impossible once you choose to accept it.” Catherine smiled at her gently as the house lights dimmed. “It’s the trusting that’s difficult.”
The soft words whispered through her head as the curtain rose and she tried to focus on the performance. Catherine had no idea how difficult it was for her to trust. Once she had been able to trust herself and others, but Oscar had changed all that. She wanted to trust Morgan. It was something she wanted desperately. But trusting him meant believing he would never hurt her. She wasn’t certain she had that much trust within her to give.
But if that were true, then how had she been able to trust him each time he touched her. In her heart, she knew he would never force her to do anything she didn’t want to do. He was first and foremost a gentleman. Last week, he could have easily taken her by force, but he’d stopped.
A lesser man would have seen her submissive behavior as a signal to do as he liked. Not Morgan, he’d known something was wrong by her lack of response. Time and again, he’d proven how considerate he could be toward her. How attuned he was to her pleasure. Although it had taken several days to recover from the shock of that last encounter, he’d clearly demonstrated his respect for her feelings.
Morgan didn’t want her submissive. He’d said he wanted the woman in the portrait Peebles had painted, and she believed that now. But did she have the ability to be that woman? Did she have the courage to open herself up to him in such a manner? Perhaps Catherine was right. Could it be she needed to choose happiness? Was it as simple as choosing to love him—to be with him? They didn’t need to be married to be happy. And she cared little what society thought of her behavior.
Torn with indecision, her gaze drifted across the width of the theater to find Morgan watching her still. Instantly, the entire world slipped away as they stared at each other. There was nothing but the two of them. He leaned forward just a bit as if he hoped to reach out across the void and touch her. Then he stiffened and reclined back into his seat.
§ § §
Morgan ached as if he’d been in a street brawl with a group of sailors. He’d never experienced this type of torment before in his life. It was an all-consuming need for a woman, and his treatment of her had done nothing to advance his suit with her. The memory of how she’d retreated from him in her salon last week gnawed at his gut.
In his eagerness to convince her they were meant for each other, he’d dredged up unpleasant memories instead. He should have realized long before she’d come to his bed that Westgard had mistreated her. All the signs had been there, but his lust had blinded him to them.
Christ, to think that son of a bitch had tied her up. He was afraid to think what else the bastard had done to her. The expression on her face that morning was one he would never forget. The woman he’d made love to the night before had vanished. In her place was a woman completely detached from her emotions and from him.
Even now, the thought of what Westgard had done to Julia disgusted him. She had to be one of the most courageous people he’d ever met. Hell, it was amazing she’d even had the courage to give herself to him. Their lovemaking had built a fragile bridge of trust between them, and he’d unwittingly broken that bond.
He needed to do something that would reassure her, rebuild that tenuous connection between them. But what? Closing his eyes, he suppressed a groan of despair. Damn it to hell, he needed to do something. Anything. He looked across the theater again.
To his amazement, she was watching him. As their eyes met across the distance, she abruptly jerked her head back toward the stage. God, she looked beautiful. But vulnerable too. Was that his doing? Had he shattered that ice shell of hers to reach the woman Westgard had tried to destroy?
His fingers dug into his thighs as he struggled to remain seated. All he wanted to do was charge over to her box, scoop her up into his arms and take her home with him. The image of his hotel room filtered its way into his head. It was all wrong for her. Julia needed a place where she could feel safe—in control. His hotel room was the last place she would be able to do that. No, she needed something more stable, more tangible. For the first time he wished he had a house.
Until now, the hotel had served his needs more than adequately. It had also been a suitable deterrent to any mistress attempting to put her own stamp on any house he owned. But he also knew he’d been resistant to a house because of what it represented. Or didn’t represent. A home. If he could give Julia all the safety, comfort, and warmth only a true home could offer, perhaps that would show her how much he loved her. The question was whether or not she’d be willing to share it with him.
Applause sounded in his ears, and as the lights went up in the theater, he realized it was intermission. In the box opposite him, he watched as Julia leaned toward the woman beside her. He had to see her. Hear her voice. Impulse drove him to his feet and out of his box. Despite the crowd surging out into the lobby in search of refreshments, he was able to reach Julia’s box in just a few moments.
Pushing the curtain aside, he found her alone. Uncertain as to what his reception would be like, he cleared his throat. The moment he did so, she turned her head toward him. Pleasure flashed in her eyes before her expression became guarded. She didn’t say anything, and clearing his throat again, he bowed.
“Good evening, Julia.”
“St. Claire.” There was a breathless quality to her voice that stirred the desire he’d been holding in check for days. He’d known she’d needed time and space after what had happened between them.
“Did you receive my flowers?”
“Yes.” She hesitated slightly. “It was…it was thoughtful of you.”
The tension between them edged its way over his skin like a hot knife. He’d not felt this awkward in years. He stood in the box wondering what to say next.
“May I?” Morgan gestured toward the empty chair opposite her.
She hesitated again before she gave him an abrupt nod. Seating himself beside her, he studied her for a long moment. The expression on her face was serene, but the frantic flutter at the side of her neck revealed her nervousness. Her gown was the color of the sea and made her look like a lush water nymph. The material hugged her full curves seductively, and his hands ached to caress her roundness.
“Must you stare?”
“Would you have me do something else?” he asked softly.
Pink color tinged her cheeks as she blew out an exasperated breath. Opening her fan, she waved the feathers in front of her in an agitated fashion. “I…you should not be talking to me like that.”
“Perh
aps, but it gives me great pleasure to see you’re not indifferent to me.” He bit back a smile as she slapped her fan closed with an annoyed twist of her lips.
“That’s ridiculous.”
Leaning forward, he slowly stroked the top of her knuckles with his forefinger. She trembled beneath his light touch. “Tell me you feel nothing when I touch you.”
“I…I cannot.” She paled slightly and turned her head away.
“Do you want to know what I feel when I touch you like this?” A rush of exhilaration sailed through him as she jerked her gaze back to his. She didn’t speak, but the slight nod of her head pleased him. “I’m on fire for you.”
A tiny gasp parted her lips and there was a longing in her eyes that gave him hope. Capturing her hand, he turned it over so he could stroke her bare skin through the opening of her evening glove. The sharp breath she drew at his touch sent tension rocking through him.
“Please don’t.”
“Don’t what? Tell you how much I adore you?”
“How could you possibly feel that way? We barely know each other,” she said with breathless exasperation.
“I know enough that I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
She didn’t say anything. She just stared at him for a long moment as if debating how to reply. For the briefest of moments, he was certain she wanted to tell him the same thing. But with a sudden shake of her head, she looked away.
“I told you before that I’ll never marry again.” Her quiet words made his jaw tighten with frustration. Westgard had done his work well.
“I’m not going to give up on you, or us, Julia.” Once more, he stroked the skin of her wrist with his finger. “I don’t have a choice. I need you as much as I need air to breathe. Every part of me aches for you. You have no idea how much I want to be kissing every inch of you right now. Touching you until you cry out my name as you flow hot and sweet over my tongue.”
“Oh lord.” Her whisper was almost inaudible, but it was clear his words excited her. Their gazes locked, and he sucked in a sharp breath. The same hot need burning inside him was glowing in her beautiful eyes. She wanted him. Raising her wrist to his mouth, he pressed his lips to the small area of bare skin her evening glove revealed.
“Let me take you home.” He watched her struggle to make a decision, her expressive face conveying all too clearly the battle raging inside her.
“I…I…”
“Let me show you we’re meant for each other, Julia. Let me show you how much I love you.” The moment he said the words, he realized he’d pushed too hard. Julia paled then shook her head.
“You mustn’t say that…you’re…you’re confusing me.”
“Bloody hell,” he growled.
Frustration slammed into his stomach as he released her hand and reclined back into his seat with a grunt. At least she’d not rejected him outright. That was a good sign. He simply needed to be patient. With a sharp jerk of his head, he agreed to her request.
“I’m a patient man when I want something, Julia. I’m willing to give you time, but be forewarned. This is not the last you’ve heard in this matter.”
Her lips parted as if she were about to say something, when the sudden swish of the curtain behind him stopped her. Rising to his feet he turned and bowed as the woman he’d seen with Julia earlier entered the opera box. Julia quickly introduced him to her cousin in a manner that indicated she was clearly agitated by his promise. With the introductions complete, he bowed over Julia’s hand.
“Remember what I said, Julia,” he whispered against her fingers. With that, he excused himself and left the box. Despite his disappointment at having lost this particular battle, something told him it was possible to win the war.
Chapter 12
Julia frowned at the figures in front of her. This was the second time she’d found something amiss with the Sea Witch’s logs. Nothing added up correctly, and it concerned her enough to bring it to Morgan’s attention. With a frown, she worried her lip with her teeth. It had been a week now since she’d seen him at the Lyceum Theatre.
No, that wasn’t quite true. She had seen him. He’d passed her several times in the shipping office either in the main workroom or in passing as one of them arrived or departed. Each time he’d greeted her with a courteous nod and nothing more. He was doing exactly what she’d asked him to do since the beginning of their relationship.
So why did the fact irritate her so much. For a man who professed to care for her, he was certainly not working very hard to change her mind. Dismayed by the notion, she pulled in a sharp breath. Had she gone mad? Every time the man was near her, what little self-control she possessed hovered on the edge of total collapse.
With one silk-edged word, Morgan could easily have her eating out of the palm of his hand. And it terrified her to admit that she wanted to do just that. She wanted to give herself over to him completely. The traitorous thought made her slam the ledger closed.
Glaring at the accounting book, she pressed her fingers into its cloth binding. The discrepancy in the Sea Witch’s log needed his attention. Prepared or not, she needed to prove to herself that she could control her emotions where he was concerned. Despite what Catherine had said about seeking happiness, she firmly believed her refusal to indulge in a continued liaison with Morgan was the best course of action.
With a quick step, she left the small office Morgan had provided for her use. A moment later, she was standing in front of his office door. Hesitation stayed her hand briefly before she rapped on the wood. Hearing his command to enter, she inhaled a deep breath, and stepped into the lion’s den with the ledger clutched tightly to her breast.
Morgan was standing at the window as she entered his office. A look of surprise darkened his blue eyes when he turned his head toward her. Abruptly, he wheeled about and strode to his desk. Picking up a sheaf of papers, he sorted through them in a manner that made her heart sink. He seemed almost annoyed at her presence, and her mouth went dry at the way her heart suddenly ached.
“What can I do for you, Julia?” The cold note in his voice made her wince.
The sharpness of his words cut deep. Had he given up on her? The question made her swallow a knot of fear in her throat. She had to stop thinking like this. If she weren’t careful, she’d be throwing herself into his arms.
Assuming a business-like manner, she rounded his large desk and laid the ledger she carried on the desktop in front of Morgan. Immediately, a frisson slid over her skin as the warmth of his body heated hers simply by standing next to him. To her dismay, his entire body went rigid. It was as if the man found her presence detestable.
The thought squeezed at her heart, and she opened the ledger with an abrupt movement. When she found the appropriate page, she pointed to the account lines she’d been working on for most of the morning. Her finger pressed against the paper, she uttered a noise of frustration.
“These figures aren’t adding up correctly.”
He didn’t answer for a moment as he leaned over the book and trailed his finger over the numbers. Trembling, she pulled her hand away to guard against his touch. She breathed in the warm spicy scent of him. When she’d first met him, she’d thought that it was indecent for a man to smell so wonderful.
It had been wrong to think that. He smelled deliciously male. Strong and masculine. It was as dangerous a scent now as it had been then. Her heart skipped a beat as she studied his hand. A light dusting of dark hair covered the back of his hand, while a tapered finger tapped restlessly against the ledger page. He had beautiful hands. The memory of what those hands could do stirred her senses as a familiar heat curled in her stomach.
“Everything appears to be in order.”
Jerked out of her reverie, she shook her head with frustration. “You don’t understand, the Sea Witch was supposed to have a hundred more barrels of Madagascar oil than what she had when she arrived in port.”
“That’s because I had the captain stop at Gibraltar and
hand over those barrels to the Bluebell for delivery to America.”
“Oh.” She frowned in puzzlement before turning to the Bluebell ledger page where the transaction had been noted. Feeling foolish, she shook her head. “I apologize.”
“It was an efficient measure recommended by one of my investors.” There was a slight trace of amusement in his voice.
The words took a moment to sink in before she realized she was the investor he’d referred too. Shortly after she’d invested her money with St. Claire Shipping, she’d suggested he should consider using foreign ports-of-call as a means of transferring cargo more efficiently. The thought that he might actually have listened to her suggestions had never crossed her mind.
Startled by the fact, Julia looked up at him. For the first time she realized how close they were to each other. The heat of him encircled her, while her heart crashed into her chest at a frantic pace. She missed his touch, and standing so close to him created the pulsating need to reach out and touch him. It took every ounce of willpower Julia possessed to keep from pressing her hand against his chest to see if his heart was racing with excitement like hers.
Hunger burned in his eyes as he watched her. It was a look that devoured her with an intensity that filled her with a longing she wanted to give way to. The muscle in his jaw flexed and the tension in him was almost palpable. If she were to touch him, his body would be hard as a rock. Would he be hard everywhere? The erotic thought shocked her, and her breathing immediately became shallower.
It was a scandalous thought, but it surprised her how much the idea excited her. She’d never thought it possible that a man could make her feel desire as Morgan had done from the first moment they’d met. And as shocking as it was to think it, she wanted him to be hard with desire for her. Beneath his piercing gaze, her insides melted and she swayed into him. He didn’t look away from her as she saw his head start to descend. He was going to kiss her.
She shuddered at the desire speeding its way through her. She wanted him to kiss her until she couldn’t think. It had been so long since the last time she’d been in his arms. Her eyes fluttered shut as she tipped her head back and eagerly awaited his lips to sear hers. When the heat of his body left her, her eyes flew open to see him watching her from several feet away.
