by Clee, Adele
Alone.
Her soul ached at the thought. Every instinct urged her to open the door, to race into his arms and live for the moment. A hardened heart could cope with anything. That was another one of Giselle’s platitudes. But Julianna knew she would never recover from this.
Desperate to distract her mind, her thoughts turned to Mr Daventry’s revelation. Had Giselle not lost her precious jewels, would she have sold them to purchase a cottage in an idyllic location, away from the glittering lights of the ballroom? Would she have become a doting mother, loved Julianna more than she did a lover’s attention?
No. Never.
Giselle was as addicted to men as she was to laudanum. Fifty fawning lords could not satisfy her craving. Julianna needed only one man to feel completely content.
She let go of her pillow and sat up in bed.
All was quiet.
Did Bennet’s reticence stem from guilt? Did he believe his father’s misdeed had led to Julianna being sold to Edward Eden?
It wasn’t true.
The blame lay with Giselle, the manipulating devil who’d never been a mother. The blame lay with Julianna for being a fool to believe the lies, for not being strong enough to escape a loveless marriage.
“Julianna.” Spoken in a voice tinged with uncertainty, her name echoed from the room beyond. “Julianna. Are you awake?”
Her heart thumped hard in her chest.
“Julianna. I need to talk to you.”
She should ignore him, feign sleep, but his magnetic pull had her slipping out of bed and padding over to the connecting door. “Bennet, it’s late. Can we talk tomorrow?” If she faced him tonight, she would be a slave to her wants and desires.
He responded by sliding a folded note beneath the door.
With trembling hands, Julianna took the note and peeled back the folds. A smile formed. It was a privilege pass written in Bennet’s elegant penmanship, declaring himself the winner of the race from the ruins to the quaint cottage.
“We made a pact,” he reminded her. “Whoever won the pass can make demands. And I wish to use mine to make you open this door.”
She pressed her palm to the wood as if it were Bennet’s chest. “This isn’t a game, Bennet. We’re not those children anymore.”
“Still, you don’t want to break another vow. Let me in, Julianna.”
She hadn’t broken the first vow. She had returned to him every night in her dreams. A part of her would always live with him at Witherdeen.
Rousing what little strength she had, she folded the note and pushed it back through the gap beneath the door. “I can’t talk to you tonight. Perhaps tomorrow we—”
“We’re leaving for Bristol before dawn.”
“Bristol?”
“I can’t talk to you through the door. And we’ll be stuck in a carriage with Daventry for the best part of fourteen hours. No doubt we’ll speak of nothing but catching a killer.”
Julianna rested her forehead gently against the door. The man had the power of an ancient god, for his essence managed to penetrate the wood and seduce her senses. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “Then we should sleep, else we’ll be good for nothing tomorrow.”
“Let me in, Julianna. Don’t make me ask again.”
“Why? Have you inherited your father’s need for control?”
Her stupid question was met with silence.
For lengthy seconds she stood there, knowing she had hurt him, wanting to make things right. “Bennet. I’m sorry. You could never be like him.”
Silence.
If this was their last night together, she didn’t want it marred by one foolish comment. Giselle used spiteful words to hurt men. Julianna would never be her mother’s daughter.
She quickly took the key from the nightstand, unlocked the door, and yanked it open. Bennet stood there in nothing but his breeches, his muscular arms braced against the door frame, his mischievous grin reaching his eyes.
The sight hardened her nipples.
His heated gaze skimmed her loose red curls, her plain nightgown, dipped to her bare feet. “Even in white cotton, you steal my breath.”
Her breath hitched as he prowled towards her, this merciless hunger for him refusing to abate. “You’re a dangerous man, Bennet Devereaux. One look from those tawny eyes, and I’m entirely at your mercy.”
“Then I intend to put my powers to good use.” He came closer, captured her chin, and stroked her bottom lip with his thumb. “I know what my father did, and I shall spend my life making amends. I need you. I’ll never have the strength to let you go.”
“You must.”
“Don’t you want me, Julianna?”
She’d spent forever wanting him.
The time for honesty was nigh. “I could never share you with another woman. Even if I had your heart, it wouldn’t be enough. I want all of you, Bennet, and I cannot accept anything less.”
He bent his head and kissed her, those captivating lips moving so slowly, so softly, the coil of desire tightened in her belly. “I meant what I said earlier. I have loved you from the day you stole an apple from the kitchen and came to sit with me beneath the stairs. I will love you, and only you, my whole life.”
Unshed tears blurred her vision. She would never forgive herself if she left without letting him know how much she cared.
“I’ve tried to suppress my feelings, Bennet, but it becomes harder each day. I will always love you. Indeed, my love for you is so great I know I must let you go.”
A tear slipped down her cheek, and he dashed it away.
He gestured to the sumptuous pale blue bed hangings. “You see this splendid room. No one but you will ever cross the threshold. No one but you will ever sleep in that bed. No one but you will carry my name or bear my children. It’s you or no one, Julianna.”
Emotion caught in her throat. “C-carry your name?”
Surely he didn’t mean—
“Marry me. Be my marchioness, my wife, my lover, my friend. And if Edward Eden has poisoned your mind to marriage, then we’ll move to Paris and live in sin.”
Marry him? For a few seconds, she let his words infuse her mind, body and soul. She bathed in the possibility of all her wildest dreams coming true.
Reality reared its head. “You cannot marry a courtesan’s daughter.”
He tapped her playfully on the nose. “I’m the Marquess Devereaux. I can marry who the devil I please. Besides, I have Lucius Daventry’s permission to court you, and there’s not a man in England who’d dare challenge him.”
“But you’ll be cast out. Our children will—”
“Be so strong of heart and mind society will crave their approval. The world is changing, Julianna. Our children will have to please no one but themselves. Do you know how liberating that will be?” He chuckled. “I’ve already agreed our daughter will marry Daventry’s son, so you can’t refuse me now.”
This was a dream, a beautiful dream full of endless possibilities. Would she wake to find herself alone in a cold bed?
“Our daughter will be free to choose her own husband.”
Bennet’s eyes widened. “Does that mean you accept?”
“It will be difficult.”
“Living from hand to mouth is difficult.”
She recalled the day she’d sat on the Registry’s steps, alone and without hope. She owed Mr Daventry a debt far greater than she could ever repay.
“We’ll discuss marriage when we’ve caught the devil who wants to kill you.” A man was dead, murdered by his accomplice, though Julianna felt certain Miss Winters lacked the heart for such a grisly deed. “We should focus all our efforts on solving the case.”
“All our efforts?” He slipped his arm around her waist and glanced at the bed. His gaze was so hot she could warm her cold hands. “Surely we’re allowed a little self-indulgence before we leave at dawn.”
Heat pooled between her thighs at the prospect of joining him in bed. “By all accounts, Mr Daventry gave you
permission to fraternise with his agent. And who would dare challenge such a formidable gentleman?”
“Who indeed?” He stripped her bare with his smouldering gaze. “Invite me into your bed, Julianna.”
Need surpassed embarrassment. Although her heart fluttered wildly, bit by bit, she drew her nightgown up over her thighs like a wicked wanton.
“Come to bed, Bennet.” She pulled the gown over her head, let it slip from her fingers to pool on the floor.
Bennet hissed a breath. He rubbed his chest as if starved of her touch. “Love, I plan to devour every inch of you.”
Entranced by the noticeable bulge in his breeches, by his lean hips and solid thighs, she dared to tease him. “What are you waiting for?”
With a self-assured grin, he stripped out of the garment, freeing his impressive erection. “Well? Do you like what you see?”
“Indeed.” Julianna stared at his manhood, so thick and gloriously hard. “I pray you won’t break your last vow.”
“The one where I promised to love you forever?”
“No. When you promised to pleasure me before a roaring fire, vowed to use your mouth to taste every inch of my flesh.”
Bennet glanced at the flames flickering in the grate. “I’m glad you reminded me. That’s one of many vows I intend to keep.” He closed the gap between them. “Before we take to the floor, there’s something I would like to do first. Something I imagined doing when I trapped you against the bedpost yesterday.”
She wanted nothing more than to be caged in his masculine prison.
With her body thrumming in eager expectation, she took his hand and drew him towards the bed. “Tell me what you want, Bennet. There must be no secrets between us.”
Hunger flared in those amber pools. “Turn around, love, and grip the bedpost.”
She did as he asked.
He came behind her, the heat of his body caressing her bare skin, his hot breath breezing down her spine, whispering over her buttocks. She breathed his musky scent, inhaled the potent smell of his arousal. He was achingly close. Soon he would touch her, slide those large hands around her waist and drive her dizzy with desire.
Every muscle was strung as tight as a bow. Lust left her panting.
“Touch me.” Sweet heaven. She was mindless with need.
“Close your eyes, love.”
She squeezed them shut, silently urging him to hurry.
And then she felt him. The soft brush of his lips across her right shoulder. The gentle suck on her neck. A moan burst from her when his hand skimmed her hip and cupped her breast. Then he was everywhere at once—kissing her neck, grazing her nipples with his thumbs, his erection pushing against her buttocks in an intoxicating rhythm.
“It’s always been you,” he whispered in her ear as he massaged her sex in tantalising strokes. “You’re the reason I spend most of my time at Witherdeen. The memories are like magic.”
His fingers were like magic.
“I’m going to spend my life finding ways to pleasure you,” he drawled.
She pushed back against him, needing to open herself, needing to feel his solid shaft sliding into her sex. “Take me like this, Bennet. We can move to the floor later. Take me. Take me now.”
Oh, did he oblige!
He gripped her hips and pushed slowly into her body. The sensation of him stretching her, filling her, there wasn’t a pleasure like it in the world.
“You’re so wet, love, so tight, so damn warm.”
She clutched the bedpost, a little bereft when he almost withdrew completely. “I need you inside me, Bennet.”
He drove into her sex again and again, in and out of her in long strokes. The audible slapping mingled with his guttural groans and her high-pitched pants.
“Can you feel me, Julianna? Is this how you imagined our reunion? Did you touch yourself when you slept under the stars, thinking about me?” He thrust to the hilt and stilled, slipped his fingers between her thighs, and teased her sex. “When we’re married, I’ll flood you with my seed. You’ll get all of me, Julianna, every last drop.”
Pleasure pulsed through her. Heat coursed through her veins. The quickening in her core left her shaking and convulsing around his solid length.
But he didn’t wait for the powerful waves to ebb. He slammed into her, quick and hard, telling her he loved her, assuring her they would never be parted again.
Chapter 18
Travelling in a coach for a few hours resulted in stiff knees and an aching back. Travelling in a coach for twelve hours, having had little sleep, had exhaustion tugging at Bennet’s eyelids, at every muscle, every limb. He needed to stretch and release a lengthy groan, but Julianna’s head rested on his shoulder, and he’d not disturb her slumber.
Bennet closed his eyes briefly, his thoughts turning to their lovemaking, to Julianna’s soft thighs hugging his hips as she rode him to completion. The memory hardened his cock. As did the thought of them spending the night together in a coaching inn—until another vision dampened his ardour. One where his bed partner snored like a hog and had stubble. Curse the devil. What if he were forced to share a bedchamber with Lucius bloody Daventry?
From the seat opposite, Daventry withdrew his pocket watch and checked the time beneath the light of the carriage lamp.
“We’ll not reach Bristol before nightfall.” Bennet spoke quietly so as not to wake Julianna. “Even if Branner’s murderer follows us here, he won’t reach the coaching inn tonight.”
“He? You presume the villain is a man?”
“It was merely a turn of phrase.” Lowbridge and Granger were the only men who could have killed the steward. Bennet would wager everything he owned on Roxburgh’s innocence. “Surely the ladies lack the strength to overthrow a man as strong as Branner.”
“Sir Malcolm disagrees. He’s convinced Miss Winters reached the end of her tether and hit Branner while in an uncontrollable rage. It’s one possibility.”
Sir Malcolm had insisted Bower keep watch over Isabella’s apartment and had instructed him to apprehend her should she decide to flee. The magistrate thought luring the villain to Bristol was a pointless exercise. But Branner’s motivation for hurting Bennet had to stem from something in his past.
“It’s late.” Bennet yawned. “Too late to visit the library.”
“Then we’ll find the man with the key.” Daventry could navigate his way around any problem.
“Branner could have had that book for years. He worked for Lord Morton before coming to Witherdeen. Should our sojourn to Bristol fail to reap results, I shall visit the lord and make enquiries.”
“There’s no need. Tomorrow, we’ll be heading back to London having solved the case.” Daventry’s confident gaze shifted to the woman sleeping beside Bennet. “When this is over, I hope I’m not ferrying my agent to Dover.”
Bennet glanced at Julianna and drew the wool blanket over her lap. “Let’s just say that St James’ Square will soon be her permanent residence.”
Daventry didn’t hide his victorious grin. “You wanted her the moment your eyes met and you had to pick your chin off the floor.”
“I’ve loved her for as long as I can remember and cannot let her go. You helped me come to a decision quickly, but I would never have let her leave for Paris.” Bennet suspected Daventry had been manipulating events from the beginning. At this rate, all his female agents would be married by the summer. “You’ve been so instrumental in our affairs, one wonders what you have in store for Miss Gambit.”
The glint in Daventry’s eye said his mind was a nest of intrigue. The man was plotting something. “Miss Gambit is to meet her potential client soon.”
“To see if she will take the case?” Bennet got the impression it was more complicated than a conversation in the Hart Street drawing room.
“To see if he will allow Miss Gambit to work alongside him. She must go through a series of tests. If she passes, which I’m sure she will, Hunter will hire her to help solve his problem.”
“Hunter?” The man sounded like a blood-thirsty beast who took no prisoners. “I cannot recall a lord of that name.”
“Hunter isn’t a lord.”
“From what I hear, Miss Gambit is a formidable woman who goes straight for the jugular.” Was Daventry hoping his agent would form an attachment to Hunter while solving his case?
“Yes. It will make for an interesting pairing.”
They fell silent for a time.
Bennet closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, woke as the carriage rumbled into the Golden Eagle coaching inn. Daventry booked rooms, gave false names. He demanded to see the layout upstairs before persuading the innkeeper to give them chambers close to the taproom.
It was eight o’clock that evening when Daventry’s carriage drew up alongside the library in King Street. The Palladian-inspired building of limestone ashlar stood shrouded in darkness.
Daventry opened the carriage door and vaulted to the pavement. “Wait here while I check the premises.” He unlatched the iron gate and entered a flagged courtyard, knocked on the door numerous times before disappearing around the side of the building.
Julianna peered into the gloom. “There’s no one here at this late hour.”
“Daventry’s confident he’ll get the information we need.”
“Someone peered through the curtains in the cottage next door. Perhaps the librarian lives there.” Regardless of Daventry’s instruction to wait in the carriage, Julianna lowered the steps and climbed down. “It’s worth taking a look.”
Bennet followed her to an L-shaped row of stone cottages, accessed through another wrought-iron gate. Daventry caught up with them outside the first cottage.
Julianna knocked.
A man of middling years appeared at the window.
“Good evening.” Julianna spoke to him through the glass. “Do you work at the library?”
The fellow squinted and cupped his ear.
“The library?” she repeated. “Do you work there?”
He waved for them to wait and appeared at the door moments later.
“Sorry for disturbing you so late at night, sir, but we have pressing business with the keeper of the library.”
