Passion Becomes Her

by Shirlee Busbee

  “Because it is not my habit to meet beautiful young women in mice-and rat-infested buildings.”

  “Oh,” she said stupidly, her mind busy with the astonishing idea that Asher thought she was beautiful. Before she could stop herself, she blurted, “Do you really think I’m beautiful?”

  “Fishing for compliments?” he teased.

  In the darkness, she blushed. “No. Oh, no,” she replied hurriedly. “I was just surprised to hear you say it. No one has ever called me beautiful before—Thalia’s the beauty in the family.”

  He snorted and kicked his horse into motion. “In some people’s opinion,” he muttered under his breath.

  Several minutes later, Asher pulled his horse to a stop in front of a small building nestled in a grove of trees and indicated that she should do the same. He had not lied when he had called it a hut, Juliana thought, studying the bare outlines of the place. She was positive the linen closet at Kirkwood was bigger.

  “Wait here,” he said as he dismounted.

  Entering the windowless hut, Asher quickly lit the candle he had brought with him. In his earlier reconnoiter he’d made certain that the faint light from the candle could not be seen outside the hut and, using several drops of dripping wax as a base, he stuck the candle in the middle of a small, battered table. He glanced around again. The table, two rough wooden stools and an old pile of rushes in one corner made up the furnishings. He grimaced. Not what Juliana was used to, but the best he could do considering the time frame.

  Juliana saw the briefest gleam of light when Asher opened the door to rejoin her. In a few minutes she’d be inside that little hut with him. She bit her lip, suddenly assailed by doubts. She couldn’t pretend that the adult Asher Cordell wasn’t a very different kettle of fish from the impatient, sometimes kind, sometimes mocking boy she had known in her childhood. And don’t forget how insufferably superior he could be, she reminded herself with a scowl, as certain youthful memories crossed her mind.

  Preoccupied with her thoughts, at Asher’s light touch on her hand, she jumped, causing her horse to move restively.

  “I’m sorry,” Asher said at her side. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  She gave him an uncertain smile and allowed him to help her from her horse. His hands were firm around her waist as he lifted her down and though her heart kicked a little in her breast, his touch was politely impersonal. As it should be, she told herself firmly. This was not a dalliance and she was a silly goose to think that Asher, Asher who had pushed her into the creek when she had been eight and he an imperious thirteen, would ever look upon her as anything less than a nuisance. It was Thalia’s future that was at stake. Thinking of Thalia and why she was here, Juliana stiffened her spine and marched into the hut.

  It was even smaller inside than she had imagined and again she was reminded of the linen closet at Kirkwood. Grateful for the candlelight, she pushed back the hood of her cloak and took a few steps further into the hut.

  Reaching the table, she turned and looked back at Asher, her heart doing another one of those uncomfortable kicks, as he stood there, his broad shoulders resting against the door, his arms folded across his chest. The expression on his face reminded her forcibly of the same look he’d worn the time her pony had bucked her off and she had sat on the ground bawling. There had been kindness, resignation and impatience in that look and it seemed that in nearly two decades, nothing had changed between them.

  His voice revealing his irritation, he said, “Now, perhaps you’ll tell me what is so important that we have to meet at this hour and in such secrecy.” His eyes narrowed. “You haven’t been gambling have you? Gotten yourself in the River Tick?”

  Affronted, she glared at him. “Of course not! I know that some society ladies wager far more than they should, but I am not among them.”

  He shrugged. “Then why this meeting?”

  Her gaze dropped from his and she stared down at the scarred top of the table. All the reasons why this had been a rash idea flashed across her brain, but she pushed them away. In the time since she had written the note to him nothing had changed and whether or not it was foolish or reckless, she had no choice but to forge ahead as best she could.

  She took a deep breath, marshaling her thoughts. It seemed incredible to think that just over a week ago she and Asher had nearly been discovered in Ormsby’s library in London. Even distracted by all the packing and closing up of the London house prior to their departure for Kent, the problem of Thalia’s letters had been foremost in her mind. Probably the worst of it had been the trip from London to Kirkwood with the three of them locked within the confines of the small traveling coach. Thalia, her lovely face frozen in a mask of despair, had spent the journey stifling back tears, while Mr. Kirkwood sighed heavily from time to time and stared moodily out the coach window. Knowing it would be useless, Juliana hadn’t even made a pretense at conversation and had passed the hours trying to figure a way out of their dilemma—a way that didn’t involve Thalia being disgraced or married against her will to that wretched Ormsby. By the time they finally reached Kirkwood late Friday afternoon, despite some rather wild schemes, she had concluded that her original solution was still the only way: she had to get the letters out of Ormsby’s hands.

  There had been one stroke of luck, she admitted ruefully, although Thalia probably didn’t consider coming down with measles lucky. Granted her own first response had been one of utter horror when Thalia had woken up Saturday morning covered in spots! But Juliana, taking this latest setback in stride, had quickly come to view it as a blessing. Thalia’s condition made any notion of a house party out of the question and gave the family a perfect excuse to warn prospective guests away and postpone any party until the first week of August. Even an-almost-fiancé could be kept at bay and Juliana had been smiling when she had penned the note to Caswell explaining the situation. Thalia was mortified that she had fallen victim to such a childish complaint, but like Juliana she had come to view it as a reprieve. Thalia wouldn’t be able to see her beloved until all signs of spots had disappeared and she had recovered her looks, but that also meant that she didn’t have to face Ormsby either. And, Juliana thought grimly, Thalia’s illness gave them some maneuvering room and some time in which to steal those wretched letters. Which brought her to this meeting with Asher.

  She wouldn’t have considered enlisting Asher’s aid, if it hadn’t been for their odd meeting in Ormsby’s library. No more than she had he wanted to be discovered, which meant he had no business being there and that his reasons for lurking behind the drapes had been less than noble. He’d been up to something. She’d dismissed the idea out of hand that Ormsby had invited him to the ball. Ormsby loathed Asher. But even if Ormsby had invited him to the ball, what had Asher been doing in that darkened library?

  Her breath caught as a likely notion occurred to her. Sympathy in her eyes, she blurted out, “Is Ormsby blackmailing you, too?”

  Asher stiffened and he straightened from his position against the door. So that’s why Juliana had been in Ormsby’s library. The bastard had something he was holding over her head and she had been searching for it. A wave of cold rage surged through him and, the cobalt blue eyes darkening dangerously, he demanded, “Is Ormsby blackmailing you?”

  His voice was like a whiplash and Juliana flinched. Asher muttered something ugly under his breath and in one swift stride was at her side. Catching her arms in his iron grip, he half snarled, “What the devil have you gotten yourself into?”

  A little alarmed by his reaction, Juliana struggled to escape him, but his hands only clamped down harder on her arms.

  “Be still!” he ordered, ignoring her struggles. “Now tell me, what does that scoundrel Ormsby hold over your head?”

  The expression on his face reminded her of the one she’d glimpsed that night in Ormsby’s gardens in London and a thrill of fright raced through her. His face had been in shadows that night, but here in this little hut the flickering candlelight
revealed the stark menace in his features.

  With huge eyes she stared at the dark, lean face above her, searching for any sign of the boy she had known. It was not there. This was a dangerous man, a hard man, a man, she realized with a sickening thud of her heart, not to be trifled with. Dear God! Why had she ever thought he would help her?

  Several terrifying thoughts occurred to her. She was alone with him in the dead of night, alone with a stone-eyed stranger who held her helpless, his fingers biting painfully into her flesh. Escaping him was impossible. Her breath hitched and something else occurred to her. No one knew that she was meeting him. No one, including herself, knew where she was. Good heavens! If he was of a mind, he could murder her and no one would ever find her body.

  Her thoughts chased themselves across her expressive face and, seeing the fear in her eyes, Asher’s hold on her arms gentled and the look that had made her so afraid of him vanished. His voice softer, kinder, he said, “I won’t hurt you. I would never hurt you. I’m sorry if I frightened you.” He grimaced. “You know how I feel about Ormsby and the idea that you might be in his clutches…” Smiling wryly, he added, “I’m afraid that I let my temper rule there for a moment. Forgive me?”

  She nodded uncertainly, her fright ebbing. Asher’s contempt and dislike of Ormsby was well known and she should have been aware, she admitted, that the violence she had sensed in him, the violence she had seen on his face, had been directed solely at Ormsby.

  His touch unbearably tender, he cupped her cheek. The dark blue eyes warm, he murmured, “Never be afraid of me. I might want to run Ormsby through or lose my temper because of him, but always remember that my anger is directed at him. Never you.” His voice deepened. “Always know that no matter how much or how often you may enrage me, I would never, ever harm you.”

  Breathless, her rosy mouth half parted, she stared up at him. This, she thought giddily, was the darkly charming, utterly mesmerizing Asher who sometimes drifted through her forbidden dreams, arousing her, making her writhe and twist with longing.

  Asher meant only to comfort her, but as he looked down at her, comfort became the last thing on his mind. He’d always thought that Thalia’s blond and pink beauty was over-rated and that Juliana, with her sable hair and whiskey brown eyes, was the true beauty in the family. Staring at her tonight, he was even more convinced that his opinion was right. She was tall like Thalia, her bosom and hips shapely, but she didn’t have the almost-too-voluptuous curves of her younger sister. To his mind Thalia was cool perfection with her icy blue eyes and alabaster complexion, but Juliana…Juliana’s dark hair and brilliant eyes coupled with skin the color and texture of a ripe peach made him think of hot, tropical nights. Nights where she was naked in his arms and exotic scents filled the air. His gaze locked on the generously curved mouth just below his, Asher felt his body tighten, felt the swelling, lengthening between his thighs. He wanted her. Badly. Tilting her face to his liking, his lips came down on hers and for a moment, for him, the world spun away and he lost himself in her sweet warmth.

  She was soft and yielding under his mouth and one arm slid around her, pulling her next to him. He groaned at the sensation of her breasts crushed against his chest and heedlessly he deepened the kiss, his tongue thrusting into her mouth. Her shy response delighted him and his tongue explored at will, seeking, demanding more.

  The thought of repulsing him, resisting him, never crossed Juliana’s mind. Part of her knew this was dangerous, knew that she should push him aside, but she’d never felt this way in her life, never known such a wanton, primitive desire. Not even her husband’s lovemaking had brought her to this fevered pitch nor aroused this urgent yearning to feel Asher’s naked body pressed to hers, to luxuriate in the long, slow slide of his big body merging with hers. As the seconds passed and their mouths feasted on the other’s, her nipples peaked and her arms closed around his neck, her tongue twining with his. Her cloak fell unheeded to the floor.

  A delicious shudder racked her when his hand clenched her buttocks through her delicate gown and he pulled her closer to him, forcing her into intimate contact with the swollen rod of flesh between his legs. She was damp, burning to get closer to him, and she tilted her hips, rocking against him, seeking succor from the sweet ache that throbbed low in her belly.

  Certain he would die if he did not have her, his lips never leaving hers, his tongue claiming her mouth as he intended to claim her body, Asher tipped her back onto the table. He moved immediately between her legs, his hands making short work of pushing her skirts out of the way. His fingers found her core and a soft growl of satisfaction came from him when he discovered her damp and hot and ready for him. He lifted his mouth from hers and tore at the opening in his breeches. His rigid member sprang free and wedging himself between her thighs, he looked down at her, a sumptuous banquet laid out for his taking. Their eyes met and in that moment reality exploded viciously through Asher.

  Christ! This wasn’t some strumpet he’d paid for. This was Juliana! And worse, he was seconds away from taking her like a rutting boar!

  Cursing, Asher yanked down her skirts and jerked her up from the table. Spinning away from her, with painful haste, he stuffed himself back into his breeches. His breathing hard and labored, his fists clenched at his sides, he closed his eyes and willed himself sane. By sheer force of will he beat back the howling desire that raged within him, throttled the almost overwhelming urge to turn and finish what they had started.

  Stunned by the sudden turn of events, it took Juliana a moment to realize that she had come within seconds of making love with Asher Cordell on a table in a poacher’s hut! Shame, embarrassment and horror flooded through her. Merciful heavens! What had come over her? What had she been thinking? Or not thinking, the practical side of her brain questioned slyly.

  With a trembling hand, she brushed back a tangle of sable curls. Tears of shame and rage at her promiscuous behavior filled her eyes and threatened to spill down her cheeks. She had acted like a common whore. Regret and despair clawed through her. What must Asher think of her? Biting her lip to keep from sobbing, as much from anger at herself as shame, she brushed down the skirts of her gown. And how was she to approach him and ask for help in saving Thalia after this?

  Wishing she could just die, Juliana took a deep breath and swung around to face Asher.

  Though he was conscious of his aching member pressing against the front of his breeches, Asher had himself under control. When Juliana turned to face him, he said stiffly, “I never meant for that to happen and I cannot express how unforgivable it was of me to take advantage of you that way. I shall speak to your father in the morning.”

  Juliana blinked at him. “What? What does my father have to do with this?”

  “Good God, Juliana! I just took shameless liberties with you and you have to know that there is only one outcome for us.” His cool composure rather battered, he said reluctantly, “I hadn’t planned to marry so soon, but the notion of marriage had crossed my mind recently and after what just happened between us…” He ran an agitated hand through his black hair. “I certainly never considered you as a prospective wife and I’m aware that I am the last man you would wish to marry but we shall just have to make the best of it and manage to rub along together.” Without much conviction, he added, “It shouldn’t be too bad. We’re not children anymore. I won’t put many demands on you and for the most part we shall each have our own lives. I am not without the means to support you and I promise you, though this isn’t what either one of us wanted, that I will treat you well.” When she simply stared goggled-eyed at him, he threw her a harassed look and muttered, “I know we haven’t always gotten along with each other. I’m sure that you’d often have liked to box my ears—in fact, I think you did once.” He half smiled at her. “I know there have been times that I thought you the most infuriating creature it had ever been my misfortune to know, but under the circumstances, putting our feelings for each other aside, the only honorable thing for
me to do is to offer you marriage. As I said, I’ll speak to your father tomorrow…this morning.”

  If Asher had slapped her Juliana couldn’t have been more astonished or angry. Still stunned by what had happened, or almost happened between them, the marriage offer hit her like a blow from an oak club. Not knowing what to expect, it never would have occurred to her that Asher would offer her marriage and the fact that he was ineptly and insultingly trying to do just that left her reeling. Marriage? To Asher? She didn’t know whether it would be a fate worse than death…or a dream come true. Miserably, she pushed that thought away. Only a lovesick pea goose would ever consider marriage to Asher a dream and she was not in love with him. He was a beast. And right now she hated him. It was obvious, too, she thought bitterly, that the last thing he wanted to do was marry and that she certainly had not been on any list of his possible brides. He didn’t want to marry her, did he? Well, she wasn’t about to marry him!

  Drawing herself up, she glared at him and said icily, “First of all, there is no need for you to speak to my father. I think you forget that I am well beyond the age where I need my father’s permission for anything. You also forget that I have been married before. I am, I would remind you, a widow. For a number of years I have had command of my own home and fortune.” Her voice scathing, she spat, “I have no need of anything from you—not your name or your fortune.”

  Asher stared at her a long time. She was magnificent, he thought idly, with her bosom heaving, her cheeks flushed rosy and her eyes glittering with temper. The remnants of his earlier desire still nagging him, if he wasn’t certain that she’d plant him a facer, he’d have grabbed her and kissed her and finished what they’d started. And the consequences be damned.

  Her rejection of his offer of marriage didn’t come as any surprise, though. Juliana had always possessed a contrary streak, but he wasn’t certain how he felt about having his first proposal thrown back in his face. Surely, he wasn’t disappointed?