Julia stumbled a bit, maybe equally surprised by his mention of his father. However, unwilling to further discuss his unbending parent, he steered them toward the shadowed terrace.
“Now that we have solved the mystery as to how Ros ended up in the clutches of the dastardly Lord Wallthorpe, I have another matter I wish to address.”
“Oh?”
He looked at her, but with the shadows sliding around them, her expressive face was shielded. Then he backed her against the wall at the far end of the stone patio and pressed against her. “I have come to realize that your gown is bordering on indecent.”
She gasped. “You are no judge of women’s fashion.”
“True, I am not. However, I am an excellent judge of the potential for a lady’s assets to be unintentionally displayed.” He reached out and traced the edge of her neckline with a fingertip, caressing the soft, creamy flesh of her breasts. “And yours, my dear, have spent a fair portion of the evening in grave danger—most recently by crossing your arms when you grew annoyed with Young Jessop. In fact, I am not certain if he was embarrassed by his own actions, or the precarious situation you presented him with.” He didn’t bother to hide his smirk, whether she could see it or not.
She smacked his digits away. “My breasts are quite safe, my lord, and are in no danger—other than from your wandering hands.”
“I don’t disagree with regard to the source of the most immediate danger; however, I suggest you follow the rules of etiquette and refrain from such an…aggressive posture in the future. While I understand your previous desire to effectively stir up a scandal, I believed you had moved past that strategy. And having your lovely breasts spill from your neckline in the midst of a ball would, without a doubt, cause quite a scandal.”
She placed her hands on his chest and urged him backward a step. “Do not be a bore, Wolf. I shall dress as I see fit.”
“Can you blame me for merely wanting to shield what is mine from the view of others?”
He taunted her with their engagement, though, if he were honest with himself, there was far too much truth hidden in his words.
Her emerald gaze narrowed as she glared at him. “Yours? Have you turned Bedlamite?” She stepped into him and jammed her finger into his chest as she hissed her displeasure. “Do I need to remind you that this engagement is a farce, and will be over just as soon as Wallthorpe is no longer a threat?”
Wolf grinned as he grabbed her finger and then wrapped her in his arms. “Do I need to remind you how you melt against me when I kiss you?”
She pressed her hands against his chest, whether in self-preservation or to relish their closeness mattered not as the heat radiated into him despite the chill her words caused.
“Do not grasp at things that can never be.”
“Ah, I see I do need to remind you.”
And then he leaned in and captured her lips with his own. As he sought entrance to her sweet mouth, she remained rigid. But then as the smell of orange blossoms and spice wafted around him, her lips softened, granting him access. The sweetness of her taste burst across his palate as he delved deeper, letting their tongues twine together in a sensual dance. Her body melded into his, there in the shadows of the Hamptons’ terrace.
Lost in the headiness of their shared attraction, Wolf couldn’t imagine ever letting his Jules escape him now. Not a second time.
Chapter 17
May, 1862
Julia sat in her front parlor, reading the sensational novel Lady Audley’s Secret by M.E. Braddon. She was so engrossed in the riveting tale of bigamy and murder she did not realize she had a visitor until Johnson interrupted her.
“My lady, Sheik Tariq Azzam Hassan requests a word with you.” He stood waiting for her reply without even raising a brow.
Surprised to hear that her former lover was in England for a visit, she set her book aside. “Please, show him in. And please have Mrs. Paulson prepare some tea.”
“Very well, my lady.” Her butler bowed and went to fetch her guest.
Nervous, both about seeing Tariq and about what he might wish to discuss, she stood and edged closer to the door. She had learned a great deal in her time with him, and though receiving him while sitting might have given her the upper hand, it would also be insulting, considering their former connection. Besides, she still considered him a friend.
Johnson appeared once more. “Sheik Tariq Azzam Hassan, my lady.”
Then he bowed and left the handsome man from her past standing in her parlor, looking every inch the desert sheik. From his flowing robes and gold gilded headdress to his beringed fingers, he radiated his power and status, though of course, he would know none of it mattered to her.
“Julia, you are still the most delicate English rose I have ever laid eyes on.” He stepped closer and bowed over her hand.
“Tariq, married life appears to suit you.”
She refused to lavish him with compliments. The man had always had far too healthy an ego for his own good. Extricating her hand from his grasp, she motioned to the seating arrangement behind her. “Please, come in and sit.”
He took a seat on the settee, and she returned to the nearby chair she had occupied. Disappointment flashed across his swarthy-yet-handsome features. “Come, sit here with me. We were once such close friends.”
No fool, she shook her head. “I think not. I imagine Fatima, your first wife—let alone the second wife you have since taken—would not welcome the knowledge of this visit. Should they hear of it, I have no intention of courting more of their ire than is strictly necessary.”
He chuckled. “Fatima is a jealous woman, though in fairness to her, she knows you have always held a special piece of my heart.”
Julia hated that he still harbored feelings for her. “I find that sad for her. No woman should have to know that she does not hold all her husband’s interest.”
“Yet you know this is the way of my people. We take more than one wife so that we may bear many children. It is also to protect the women. I, in particular, must do so to strengthen political alliances with other families. I am on wife number two now, but I love them both equally.”
His gaze stroked over her curves, and down the long length of her covered legs.
The man knew what she looked like naked, stretched out before him like a pleasurable feast. And she knew too well the look of desire that sparkled in his eyes. “I find it difficult to believe you do not have a favorite.” Disquieted by his lusty scrutiny, she shifted in her chair. “Be that as it may, I am certain you did not come here to discuss the state of your personal affairs.”
To her relief, Johnson chose that moment to roll the tea cart into the room, and placed it firmly between them. With a simple nod of his head, he exited as quickly as he’d come.
Once the ceremony of pouring tea was completed, Julia settled back and tried to imagine what Tariq sought from her. The desirous way he continued to look at her was growing more uncomfortable by the moment. “Tell me, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?”
He sighed. “You were never one to hold your tongue, were you?”
She snorted.
He nodded sagely. “You would have made a magnificent wife, but also a troublesome one.”
Refusing to rise to his bait, she sipped her tea and let him work his way around to what he wanted to say.
“Despite this knowledge, I have been unable to rid my body of its desire for you. In your absence, I have fucked both my wives until I am spent and exhausted—no easy feat, as you may remember—and yet, merely a stray thought of you, and I find my cock grows hard with need once more.”
Julia swallowed the tea she’d drunk and blinked as it seared its way down her throat. She coughed and sputtered, grateful for the momentary reprieve to gather her wits. What did a woman say to a declaration of that nature?
“While I am certainly flattered, Tariq, I told you before I left that I could not marry you.”
“And yet, here I am, in hopes you
have missed me as much as I have missed you. That your sexual needs have grown so strong that only I can fulfill them.”
She set her teacup down with a rattle. “I am afraid that is not the case, Tariq. I have moved on from our time together, though I cherish it greatly. I am afraid I still have no desire to be married.”
He frowned, his caramel-colored gaze growing dark. “Then why is it that I have heard you are engaged to be married to some pasty Englishman who could not possibly be a fraction of the lover I am?”
Dread settled in her stomach then, making the tea she’d drunk slosh about. “Yes, well. That is an unusual circumstance. You see, my connection to an old friend is of a temporary nature.”
Bloody hell! One of the reasons she had refused Tariq’s proposal, besides the fact she did not love him, was that his ego made him incredibly difficult to deal with at times. This, she suspected, would prove to be one of those times.
Tariq’s brows drew closer together, deepening his frown, as well as the crease between his nearly black eyes. “This man does not intend to follow through on his vow to marry you?”
“Well, no.” She hesitated, worried about trusting Tariq with the truth. He could easily spoil her plans if he felt the need to inflate his own sense of self-worth. “It is more that I do not intend to marry him. He is merely aiding me in rebuffing another man’s unwanted advances.” She silently cursed all men in that moment. “It really is rather complicated, but please, trust me when I say that I have no desire to marry anyone.”
Tariq, perpetually handsome, with his broad shoulders, stunning caramel colored eyes, and sunbaked skin tone, did not look pleased with her answer. “You have always been an elusive one, Julia. It is reasonable to believe that is why I find myself still enamored with you.”
“Please do not say such things. Think of Fatima and your other wife. I would never have married you, Tariq. I’m just not sure I could ever marry anyone again. Please let me go from your head, and from your heart.”
His features smoothed out a bit, but stubborn as he was, he still did not agree. “I do not see a way to do so. Is it my wives that hold you back? I would renounce them for you.”
She gasped. “Tariq! That is an awful thing to say! And clearly, they were not the issue when you first asked me, as you were not married then. My answer was still the same. Is still the same.”
She tried to be gentle with him, since she knew him to be a passionate man, who at times surrendered his better judgement to that passion.
He rose now, anger bubbling beneath his calm exterior. “This is not over. Whatever it will take to woo you, I shall do. I must have you as my wife, Julia.”
Nervous, and increasingly uncomfortable with the situation, she rose as well. “I believe you should go. There is no good that will come of us continuing this discussion, now or in the future. Go home, Tariq. Take your wives and go home. Make many babies. Grow your tribe to be strong and resilient, as you are.”
“This is not over.” He turned on his heel and strode from her home.
He was merely confused, not so much angry. Or perhaps a bit embarrassed at yet another rejection from her. But she would never have married him, and would never have converted to Islam in order to do so.
Of course, her visit with Tariq had reminded her that the question of Wolf lingered, as well. The man was impossible. He was bossy, demanding, too alluring for his own good, and he was overly attentive to her. She was already half in love with him again, despite her resolve not to fall. If she didn’t find a way to make Wallthorpe cease his pursuit, she would be in far greater trouble than she could have ever planned for, because the only thing worse than being forced to marry a second time would be to fall in love with the man who only married her out of a sense of obligation.
Determined to put both men out of her mind, Julia headed upstairs to dress for a dinner party at Lady Maccomb’s home. A widow, she often entertained small groups with food and games. It was a light affair usually, and one that she and Ros often attended in lieu of some of the more grandiose soirees.
The evening was proving to be cooler than expected, but once she was in Lady Maccomb’s foyer, it made little difference. Having greeted their hostess, Julia followed Ros into the parlor, where many of the evening’s guests waited. To her surprise, Wolf and Flint were both in attendance. Before she could say a word to Ros, her sister was making her way across the room to where the men stood. Ros had already greeted them, so she said her hellos as well.
“I had not realized you were acquainted with Lady Maccomb.”
Wolf shrugged. “I knew her husband more than the lady herself, but I believe she extended Flint and myself the invitations more because of our associations to yourself and Ros.”
Surprised by that notion, she glanced at her sister to find her making cow eyes at Lord Flintshire. “I suppose I should have expected such a thing, what with us making our engagement so public.”
“Indeed. It’s conceivable we should start coordinating our social calendars.” The statement held a hint of laughter, but also a determined note of seriousness.
Wary of any such further entanglement, she smiled. “Oh, there is something to be said for the surprise of finding ourselves at the same function.”
“Is there?” Wolf let one brow rise in question.
Clearly, he did not agree. Well, such was life. Disappointment was something he should have become accustomed to when it came to her. It was inevitable. “Oh, indeed. It’s quite entertaining, though my parents have begun asking when we will set a date.” She leaned closer to him so her sister would not hear. “We should come up with some excuse why we have not, shouldn’t we? Perhaps we could fake a death in your family? Do you have any aunts lurking about we could kill off?”
She repressed the feeling of being an addlepated fool, but she knew she needed to slow things down with Wolf. After all, they would be parting ways eventually.
He was about to reply, but Lady Maccomb interrupted everyone’s conversations.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I am very excited to introduce a dear friend of mine and my husband’s, who has joined us this evening. And all the way from the Far East…”
Julia’s stomach knotted and flipped.
There couldn’t be more than one sheik in London right now, could there?
She closed her eyes and prayed she was wrong, that some other berobed Arabic man was about to walk through Lady Maccomb’s entryway.
“Sheik Tariq Azzam Hassan, and his wives, Shaykhahs Fatima Hassan and Aaleyah Hassan.”
Julia opened her eyes and blinked. That was most certainly her former lover standing there grinning at her, while Fatima glared. Not to be outdone, just behind her, Wolf growled.
She should have known a quiet evening out was beyond the realm of possibility. After all, she’d been courting scandal for so long now that it seemed to just find her through no particular effort on her part. As Lady Maccomb began making personal introductions, the conversation of the other guests returned to its normal, dull roar.
Taking the opportunity, Julia turned to Wolf. But before she could say a word, he cut in.
“That is the man you spent the last decade with?”
She bit her lip and huffed. “Not the entire decade, for heaven’s sake. He was my lover for six or seven years. But it has been nearly two years since I left him.” She drew a deep breath and rushed through the part that mattered most. “He appeared on my doorstep this morning. We visited, and he indicated that he wished to continue our intimate relationship. I made my lack of interest in rekindling a connection more than clear.”
Wolf’s beautiful blue eyes were more like a cold blue-white than their normal mesmerizing sapphire. A muscle also ticked in his jaw, pulsing in time to the rapid pounding of her heart.
“I would posit that he did not receive your message, since the man has barely taken his gaze from you since he arrived. And you may be interested to note that one of his wives is visually driving daggers into your bac
k as we speak.” He sighed. “You are a siren, Julia, tempting normally sane men to throw themselves upon the rocks, in hopes of capturing you. All despite the promise of certain death.”
Anger surged through her. As if the insanity of men could be laid at her door! “Need I remind you who the survivor is here? I survived an abusive, disastrous marriage.” She did not say that it was Wolf’s fault, but the thought still lingered for her…and certainly for him, if the paleness of his face was any indication. “I survived being a widow in a foreign land full of men who desired nothing more than to own me. I survived being an infidel in a tribe that welcomed me merely because their leader wished it. And I have so far survived the unwanted courting of a man who has not taken no for an answer. I am but one woman, who is in no way in control of the stupidity of men as a whole. If you will excuse me now, I think I am in need of some fresh air.” Her nose wrinkled up in a haughty sneer. “Something rotten is perfuming the air in here.”
In full dudgeon, she turned on her heel and stalked through the party and out the back door. Ros was just behind her as she hit the terrace, which was surrounded by ivy and other flowering plants that Julia wouldn’t have recognized, even if she’d had a guidebook handy. Furious over Wolf’s comparing her to a mythological destroyer of men, she paced the length of the flagstone space.
Ros stood there wringing her hands. “Julia, perchance you were a bit excessive in your response to his comment.”
Greatly wishing to bash something—or more aptly, someone—over the head, Julia ignored her sister and continued to stride back and forth in an effort to work off her anger. The nerve of him to suggest she purposely lured men to their doom! She had not asked to be born with red hair and the proportions that seemed to draw men’s eyes. The only man she had ever wanted to want her had walked away when she’d needed him most. And now, after giving him a second chance, in a moment when she needed his support, he’d turned on her, and blamed her for the situation!
His Scandalous Viscountess (Lustful Lords Series Book 3) Page 13
