by A. G. Howard
Burrowing his hands deeper within the satin dress, Julian laced his fingers at her naval to draw her close. “That marking is a part of you. And I wish to know everything … every part of you.”
“The sinful parts as well?” She craved validation that he would want her, despite her evolving penchant for thievery.
“Most especially the sinful ones.” He nuzzled her nape, oblivious to her inference. His fingernails lightly raked her abdomen and a delectation of tremors skittered through her body. “The day I saw your head pop up from that trunk in Aunt Bitti’s wagon, I knew you were the epitome of sin.”
Willow settled her palms over her gown, the satiny fabric sliding between his hands and hers. “Perhaps that’s why you tried to resist me for so long,” she chided, becoming breathless as he massaged her stomach. Her abdomen twitched, the muscles flexing as if they already knew him, as if they reached for him. Il signore la aiuta. How could a man who’d never seduced a woman have such a knowing touch? She arched into him, her arm reaching up to enfold his neck from behind, coaxing his warm lips to sweep the corner of her mouth.
“A fool’s effort.” His amber scent tickled her nose as his breath tufted around her. “For I dreamed of you. Every night.” He kissed her then, a tender, hot pulse before his lips trailed to her nape again, leaving her mouth hungry.
His hands slid in a slow descent beneath the gown as she struggled to control her erratic heartbeat. “What sorts of dreams, Julian?”
His palms stopped inches above her pelvic bone. He held the tension between them taut like a tightrope and lifted his head so their eyes met in the mirror. He looked so elegant and princely, dressed as the gentleman yet acting evermore the rogue beneath the hushed purpling light. His loose hair waved around his shoulders like a halo of golden mist, his eyes too dark to discern. “The sorts of dreams a gentleman should never admit to; most especially to a lady.”
“Even if said gentleman is about to bed said lady?” Willow baited, her voice trembling.
“Oh, I’m not to bed you.”
“What? I thought tonight was for—”
“Tonight is for romance and passion. But I’m leaving your maidenhood intact.”
Fighting a surge of frustration, Willow tried to turn to him, but he tightened his arms around her, holding her shoulder blades against his chest as he kissed the vertebra of her neck. Tiny shocks of heat followed each press of his mouth.
Aflame with need, she opted to take charge of the seduction. “Wicked and earthy dreams. Dreams that taste of salty dew and longing … dreams of us writhing naked in the leaves, our bodies sweaty and pocked with dirt. My legs twined in impossible poses around you, holding you inside of me.”
Julian’s gaze met hers in the mirror, shifting to primal in an instant. His teeth bit down on her neck—a show of dominance, just like Willow had seen the stallions do to their mares at the manor—hard enough to make her gasp. Unexpected pleasure mounted alongside the sharp, lingering pain. “I am the seducer tonight, and I will draw the necessary lines.” His hand sunk lower then, as if to curb any further deliberation on the subject.
Willow’s legs almost gave beneath her. The hummingbird’s phantom wings swept along her inner thighs, a surge of feathered sensations spurred by his long, fine fingers—almost touching her where she burned for him—but not. Her fingers clamped over his, urging him to find her, but the slick fabric between them thwarted her efforts.
She whimpered a plea.
“Shhh,” he soothed. His hands withdrew from beneath the dress and settled on her shoulders.
“No…” She hadn’t the strength to voice her intense dismay any louder than a fierce whisper. “Julian, please…”
“Patience.” He studied her sullen reflection with rapt intensity, as if she were an equation he was determined to solve. Coaxing the dress sleeves from her shoulders so they glided down her arms, he left behind chill bumps, revealing her breasts as the fabric slid along her torso. The sleeves caught on the ruffled mitts at her wrists.
“Tonight we’re going to dance on the fringe of those dreams … just a sampling of heaven.” From behind, he caressed every inch of exposed skin, no hesitation now. A cry garbled in her throat and she tried unsuccessfully to reach for him, her arms held useless by the sleeves binding her hands.
Responding to her frustrated moan, he worked her hands free, leaving the gloves in place. She stilled then, compliant as he bared her flesh in increments. He knelt behind her to follow the fabric’s descent with his mouth, his breath intruding on her tattoo, lips trailing the marks. Gripping her waist, he kissed every line scored by angry needles, every curve of fiery ink left behind, dousing the poisonous flames, taming the torturous memories. By the time he finished, she was vulnerable, shaken, and lax—but she was no longer a victim. She was empowered: a woman and a willing participant.
When he stood again, a pool of satin hugged her ankles on the floor. She had the wicked thought that her unshod feet were no longer an issue, being the only thing now covered in fabric, until Julian lifted her against his chest and swept away the discarded gown with his shoe, coaxing her feet free before setting her down again.
Instead of trying to cover herself, as modesty dictated, she forced her arms to stay against her sides. Julian’s reflection fluctuated between reverence and awe, and she refused to compromise her naked body’s hold over him.
“You are every inch a masterpiece.” He tilted her head upward to kiss her from behind, not allowing her to turn full around. His fingers trailed her jaw, neck, and breasts, stoking her nerves to a tingling titillation. He wrapped her tongue with his, demanding more until she gasped for breath. Only then did his mouth move away to graze upon her shoulder.
Twilight shaded their surroundings with deep purple brushstrokes. A full moon appeared outside the portal, gracing everything with a silvery haze. Willow’s naked body seemed to absorb the moonbeams—making her glimmer with the pearlized distinction of a statue. She watched Julian’s powerful arms, dark inside his brown chambray sleeves, encircle her pale form, his breath hot upon her nape.
“Now show me … show me how to please a woman. How to please you.” His husky voice broke upon that final syllable, as if it hurt to speak, and Willow knew he was just as astonished and daunted as her. Trembling, she guided his hand to that place where her awareness centered and sensation ebbed like a swirling fever.
With every touch, he kissed her jaw, her ears, her neck, his silky hair following in the wake of his mouth. Liquid heat simmered within her blood, sending it in a blinding rush to her head, blotting out all other thoughts. There was no one else on the ship … no monster from her past … no vengeance to appease; only two silhouettes in a mirror learning the ways of love.
A dark, searing ecstasy coiled deep within her, wound tighter and tighter beneath Julian’s patient ministrations. Only when he demanded she open her eyes and watch, did she at last find release. A slash of moonlight shone on his face, his chin propped upon her shoulder. His irises reflected the light in waves—as if a tide of passion and pain swirled around them. She understood what made him hurt. His desire, hard and unrelenting, pressed against her lower back … while in front, his fingers played her like an instrument, locking her in a vise between his unfulfilled passion and her escalating pleasure.
She gripped his wrist as the hummingbird sensations burst to a pulsation of smoldering feathers within her blood, her bones, the very center of her. Crying out, Willow became weightless and heavy at once. Her legs went limp as jelly. Julian eased their descent as they sunk together to the floor, both of them on their knees. He guided her to her back, the carpet between her shoulder blades an itchy counterpoise to his fingers—now a comforting anchor, motionless and soothing where earlier there had been a misery of friction.
“How do you feel?” he whispered.
How did she feel? If only she could describe it. I love you, each pump of blood said. I loved you as the boy whose fingertips were smudged and inky from h
ours of calculations, as the youth who preferred repairing carousel ponies over riding in a fox hunt … I love you as the man who protects and pleasures me with the hands of an inventor and an engineer. I love you, I love you, I love you … with every beat of my enraptured heart.
She smiled secretly at her unspoken confession; she’d been spending far too much time reading Emilia’s romantic ponderings. She was beginning to wax poetic herself.
Julian settled beside her, propped on his side. Cued by her contented sigh, he glided his warm palm to her abdomen. “So … I did it correctly then?”
Adrift on sleepy currents of serenity and bliss, Willow hadn’t the strength to hold back a giggle. She lifted her hand from its relaxed stasis to touch his cheek. “You’re such a flummox.”
He grinned and leaned in so their noses touched. “And you are exquisite. You’re glowing.”
Her face and neck grew hotter at his observation. “Because of you.” She clasped his temples, her gossamer mitts catching stray stubble along his hairline. “Never, never doubt your ability to pleasure a lady.”
“Mmm. I believe I need more practice still, just to be sure.” He caught her hands and banked them over her head against the carpet. Utilizing the moonlight, his gaze roved the length of her. His scrutiny made her squirm in senseless embarrassment. After what he’d just done to her body, she was surprised she had any modesty left. As though sensing her shyness, he let the top half of his torso cover hers, his elbows supporting his weight. His clothes rubbed her breasts as he kissed her deeply, working his hands through her hair and leaving her lips slick with his flavor. “And to think, that was only the beginning.”
Willow’s eyes fluttered half-closed. Feeling lazy and satiate as a sunning cat, she nuzzled his neck and pressed her mouth along his skin, delighting in the tremor she provoked. “Who would’ve thought there were so many facets to the naughty rumpus?”
It was Julian’s turn to laugh. “The naughty rumpus?”
She grinned against his collar bone. “Or we could call it the electron-spin. Is that better?”
His lips smoothed her hair. “Either way it sounds like an amusement park ride.”
“Ah … then there’s no doubting you’ll be magnificent at it, right?”
“We both will. When the time comes.”
A wanton impulse roused Willow from her state of drowsy elation. Her eyes snapped fully open. Why could tonight not be the time? Before Julian knew what she was about, she ran her palm along the hard length at the front of his trousers. “Amazing. You’re the mathematician … surely you’ve noted the disproportion in sizes. How is this ever to fit?”
Julian’s breath caught, as if between a chuckle and a strangled gasp. He shoved her hands away and rolled to the right, but Willow used her nimble acrobatic skills to straddle him and pin his back to the floor. In a matter of seconds, she had her gloves off and his vest and shirt unbuttoned. Eager fingers skated through the fine, soft hairs of his chest where they glistened in the moonlight.
“Willow, ah, Willow … wait. Damnit.”
“Just one peek.” Her hands were at his trouser fastenings again, though he refused to allow her to open the plackets. She covered his face with kisses. “Please…”
“I’m trying to do the right thing here,” he growled, reluctantly kissing her as her lips passed over his.
“For once in your life, could you just give in? Enjoy yourself.”
“What do you think I was doing earlier? Surely you know I enjoyed that as much as you. Can’t you tell?”
She leaned over him, nuzzling his chin. “There’s no question. But you selflessly gave in to my passions and suffered your crisis. Now it’s time to surrender to your emission.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Julian retorted. “You’re spouting medical terminology … words you know nothing about.”
Her desire to look upon him, to feel him, made her dizzy and daring. “Then teach me. Let me do for you what you did for me. Show me how to please you.”
“I would never be able to stop there.” A gruff edge broke his voice. “And I won’t risk leaving you alone and with child.”
The gravity of his statement crashed over her like an arctic wave, knocking the air from her lungs. “Alone?” Willow pushed away and crossed her arms over her breasts, her heart stripped naked and vulnerable like her body. “After all that’s happened between us, that we’ve admitted to one another, you still refuse to commit to me?”
Wearing a pained expression, he scooped up her dress and draped the fabric over her nakedness then stood to straighten his clothes—looping fasteners and buttons into place. His hair fell in a thick, golden spray around his shoulders. “I can’t be dishonest with you any longer.”
Standing shakily, Willow stepped into the gown and yanked it all the way up to her shoulders. The satin felt chilly to her skin, but couldn’t compare to the ice his rejection had sheathed around her heart. She concentrated on smoothing out the wrinkled fabric to keep herself from crying. “So you’ve been lying, all along? About wanting a future together.”
“No!” Julian stared at her, somber and resolved. “I’ve been lying about the World’s Fair. You aren’t going. You never were. You’re going back to London the moment we dock in the morning. I’ll be traveling to St. Louis by myself. Your journey ends here.”
Nineteen
Julian’s statement nailed Willow’s gaze to his. “My journey ends … going back—” Her jaw dropped. “You’ve been in contact with Uncle Owen!”
The muscle in Julian’s neck throbbed, making it appear to drizzle like a stream of water in the silvery light. “That first morning after I discovered you here, when I went to the captain to apprise him of my stowaway ‘brothers’, I wired a telegraph home. In it, I told Uncle to have Leander take the next available ship. He’ll be waiting at the Queensbury Hotel in New York. He reaches port tomorrow evening. Another ship leaves for London two days after. You are to board it with your brother and accompany him back to the manor.”
Willow’s stomach clenched. No wonder the judge had acted so strange when she’d mentioned they could keep her identity a secret all the way to St. Louis and back. It seemed everyone knew but her. All this time that Julian had been kissing and pleasuring her, he had known … and all the while he’d led her to think she would attend the fair with him. “They’re sending me back to Ridley’s.” She cursed, not even caring a whit about looking like less of a lady. What did it matter? She was soon to have the transformation pounded into her.
“I said nothing of the academy,” Julian answered.
“As if you had to. You know that’s where Uncle will send me, you duplicitous snake-skinned milksop.” Her cheeks flamed. “Oh, this is as fine as frog’s hair, this is.” She pinched together the open seam behind her, purposely grappling skin along with it in hopes the bite of her fingernails might curb her rage. Her eyes darted around the room in search of something hard and sharp to throw at Julian’s ever swelling cranium. “You were perfectly happy to play this charade, so long as we are to be locked within this stateroom. You wished to learn the ways of seduction and I was your willing lab rat.”
His gray eyes flared as if they were windows reflecting the moonlight. “This was never a game to me.”
“Oh, it was. But you came to an ante your conscience would not let you play. A violation of my innocence would be intractable, unmanageable. You would be forced to commit to me then. Since you’re not willing to do so, you’re sending me back to nullify the temptation.”
“I’m sending you back to protect you from circumstances out of my control. There are ghosts everywhere on this blasted ship. From your past. Even a real one connected to a pair of latchet shoes. I don’t want you in danger.” He moved toward her, cautiously, no doubt anticipating her wrath.
Willow side-stepped him, attempting to fasten the buttons along the gown’s back seam. She hissed with the effort. “You don’t want yourself in danger of being seen with me. You made this
arrangement before we knew about Tildey.”
He gave her some space and backed toward the bed. “Yes. When I first made it, I was thinking more upon your reputation. Of how it would look for you to travel with a man. You may have managed to play the part of a boy while in the poor lighting of steerage. But you are far too beautiful a lady to fool thousands of people at a fair in broad daylight. Someone will know.”
Refusing to let the compliment soften her, Willow lifted her chin. “If you were willing, if you truly wanted me there, we could pretend to be sister and brother in St. Louis. My not being enough of a proper lady for you … that is why you won’t take me. Why you’re sending me back home. So I can finish my training and become someone worthy of your public attention.”
Hand shoved in his pockets, Julian butted the back of his head against a bedpost, having the gall to look flustered. “Have you not heard a word I’ve said?”
Willow yearned to strangle him. “Yes. You want to protect my saintly reputation. It’s simply an added coupe that in the process I will recommence my training at Ridley’s.”
“If that is what I wanted,” he answered with forced composure, “then why did I write a note for you to give to Uncle Owen … a note that specifies under no circumstances are you to be sent back to the finishing school?”
This unexpected twist jumbled Willow’s reasoning … but only for an instant. She looped four buttons in place over her tattoo. “Because the manor is isolated like the ship’s cabin. You can keep your hoydenish circus urchin hidden away and take her out only when she’s become the elegant debutant. No doubt you plan to have Aunt Enya tutor me while I’m in seclusion.”
His neck and face appeared to redden in the dimness. He raked a hand through his hair, mumbling an oath. “You’ve flipped your noddle.”