“I will not offend you by pretending I wasn’t disturbed by the impropriety of the situation,” he said through gritted teeth. “My God, woman, have you no shame?”
“Let go of me!”
“Would you like to know what they were saying, Jillian, the discussion they had about your anatomy?”
“What discussion?” Jillian continued to struggle. “The gown I wore covered me from head to foot. Now you are making things up just to embarrass me.”
“Oh really?” Adrian said in a dreadful voice, and his hold tightened. “It seems that gown was somewhat transparent, enough so that our friend Barney told everyone you were naked beneath it. What have you to say to that?”
She went very still. “I d-don’t care,” she lied.
“I’m sorry to hear that, my dear, I really am. You told me once that at some point one must cease to care. Well, I’m here to tell you that at some point one must begin to care. You’ve long since reached that point.”
“I owe you no explanations for my conduct, my lord. And if your goal is to try and stop me from riding at night then I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time.”
This time she succeeded in wrenching her hand away and she jumped from her chair. The chair fell backwards as she tried to flee the room. The earl came right behind her and he took her arm, spinning her around to face him.
Jillian shrieked. “Let me go!”
A knock at the door temporarily interrupted the hostilities.
“Jillian?” Aunt Pru’s anxious voice drifted through the panel. “Are you all right, dear?”
Adrian grabbed Jillian by the shoulders and shook her. “Do you want to share this argument with everyone?” he asked in a fierce whisper. “If you have any heart at all, you will spare your aunt this latest transgression.”
She reluctantly nodded, gathering her dignity as best she could. But her chin trembled which she hated because it revealed her agitation. The earl scanned her features and, apparently satisfied, dropped his arms, moving across the room to open the door.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Prudence, Jillian and I are having a slight disagreement,” he said. “It’s nothing that need worry you.”
Jillian could not see Auntie Pru, but she saw Adrian’s reassuring stance as he hovered in the doorway. His words were persuasive and, since she knew her aunt had come to trust the earl, she was not surprised when she heard the older woman withdraw murmuring an apology for interrupting.
He closed the door and turned back to her. “You’re right, you know,” he said, now appearing as calm as he had been enraged.
She swallowed. “About what?”
“I didn’t like one iota hearing about my future wife’s attributes before I’d even had the chance to see for myself. Male vanity, I suppose, but there it is. “
Jillian looked down at her hands, unable to meet his hard, unrelenting gaze. “I made a mistake.”
“You flout the conventions on purpose, Jillian. There’s always a choice but you seem determined to make the wrong one.”
“Can’t you see we don’t suit, my lord? You want a conventional lady and I’ll never be one again.” She hoped he could not detect the hurt she felt.
Rather than addressing that statement, he asked something else. “Why couldn’t you sleep that night you went riding?”
The question was probing, and she looked up to find Adrian still staring at her intently. She shrugged nervously at once uncomfortable for a reason entirely different than before.
“I told you—I was restless. I simply could not sleep. It’s happened before. It won’t be the last time.”
“Did it have anything to do with my not visiting you that day?” The words were shrewd and insinuating as he began to walk toward her.
“Really, your ego gets ahead of you, my lord.”
Jillian had to fight the urge to fly from him once more. As it was, she backed up several steps. Unfortunately, his approach was relentless, and she resumed her backward escape until the wall next to the fireplace interrupted her.
A satisfied smile lit the earl’s features as he stopped in front of her. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body, could detect the soap he used, could smell the aromatic masculine scents of brandy and tobacco.
“I’d like to think you missed me.” He ran the side of his index finger on her cheek. “After all, I missed you.”
“Pretty speech,” she muttered, keeping her gaze averted.
“But sincere,” he said in a thick voice. And then, “Kiss me, Jillian.”
“Not tonight, no…” She began to tremble.
“Oh yes, especially tonight.”
Unable to resist the seductive words, she looked into his eyes, blue eyes now hot with something besides ire. A shiver of exquisite sensation skittered along her nerves and pooled in her pelvis. In all her life she could not remember having felt the pull of desire quite like this. Strange how heated emotions could awaken another kind of heat.
Adrian raised his hands to the wall on either side of her shoulders and dipped his head close, touching her lips with his own. He drew away then brought his mouth to hers again in a quick nipping motion, repeating the process until her lower body began to burn in earnest.
“Kiss me, Jillian.”
She shook her head but it was an automatic response rather than an indication of how she felt.
Undaunted, he continued his insidious aggression on her senses, pressing the entire length of his frame against hers, especially his hips, forcing her tight against the wall. Jillian placed her palms to his middle, meaning to push him away, but instead found herself kneading the hard flesh beneath her fingers. He pulled back his gaze now bright with lust.
“Kiss me,” he demanded, his voice unrecognizable in his aroused state.
Jillian could no longer deny him. She ran her hands up from his stomach, absorbing the muscled texture of his chest as she went. All the while he watched the searching movement, his breathing intensifying, and suddenly she realized he was feasting on her excitement. That knowledge made her feel powerful.
It made her feel other things as well.
She rose on her toes, putting her arms around his neck, and drew him toward her. He stared into her features, his gaze never wavering. Fleetingly she touched her tongue to his lip before kissing him fully. Adrian groaned against her mouth, a groan she felt rise from the bottom of his chest as he grabbed her, wrapping her in his embrace.
For long moments they held the kiss, but Jillian sensed his impatience, his craving for more. She perceived the tension building within him and it rolled over her, dragging her along, destroying her defenses. What he wanted she now wanted.
Adrian placed his hands at the small of her back then slipped them downward, cupping her buttocks. He pressed her pelvis intimately against his, and she could feel his arousal, hard and demanding. Raw desire like warmed honey burst forth and soared through her veins, and she came to see that she, too, fed off his excitement.
Only when he began to fumble with the buttons at the back of her frock did she think to protest, but it was a feeble response and insincere.
“Adrian, we go too fast…”
As though he had not heard her, Adrian eased the dress from her shoulders, and he immediately clamped his mouth on a spot at the base of her throat that throbbed tenderly. All the while he continued to tug the bodice lower—all the while he continued the onslaught with his hips. Jillian felt the air as her skin was uncovered and she shivered.
Adrian pulled back, and they both went still as his avid gaze drifted to her exposed breasts. For what seemed an interminable length of time he stared at the soft peaks.
“Beautiful,” he said, his voice as caressing as the gentle stroke of a fingertip. However, he did not touch her.
“Adrian.”
He brought his regard back to hers, and what she saw lurking in the depths of his mesmerizing eyes made her lungs constrict. Jillian did not know why she chose that erotically-charged moment to regain he
r senses, for it was the last thing she wanted. But somehow she knew if she did not put a stop to the madness now, it would not end until she was thoroughly disgraced.
“We can’t do this,” she said, “not in my aunt’s parlor.”
She did not tell him she was not ready. He would have known it for the lie it was.
At first he looked confused as though trying to understand, but then his vision gradually seemed to clear. He smiled at her ruefully, although the expression on his face was a pained one.
“Are you quite certain?” he asked.
“Yes. Yes, I think so.”
“It is what you want?”
She found herself unable to answer, and suddenly she was embarrassed by how much she had wanted him to make love to her. But he knew anyway. She could see by the exultation on his face.
“Marry me, Jillian, and let’s end this torture.” His gaze wandered to her breasts again where his attention lingered.
Flustered, Jillian began to yank her bodice back into place. “I don’t want to talk about this right now, my lord. We lost our composure for a moment. That doesn’t mean we must marry. There’s no real harm done, is there? Besides, wanting to make love hardly seems reason enough to enter a marriage.”
“Moments ago I was Adrian. And a marriage that doesn’t start with at least a little lust is not worth the effort. Turn around and I’ll do your buttons,” he said, his voice becoming matter-of-fact.
“Can’t we be friends for now?” she questioned the wall.
Adrian fastened the last button, then lifted her hair and placed a warm kiss on the nape of her neck. Her skin quivered at the contact, and she realized the passion of minutes before lay dormant beneath a veneer of calm, ready to be rekindled at the least provocation.
“I don’t think so,” he said on a groan, proving her theory. He turned her to face him. “After tonight I begin to look forward to our nuptials with great anticipation.”
“I think you should go home now, my lord,” she said wearily.
Adrian reached up and cupped her jaw in his hand, rubbing his thumb over her cheekbone. “Are you angry with me?”
“I thought you were the one who was angry.”
His eyelids drooped. “Angry, worried…jealous. Tonight you’ve brought out in me another emotion that has completely eclipsed the others. Unfortunately, I’ve been left hanging, and I fear I’m in for a bit of pain.” He moved away from her, but he walked rather stiffly.
“My lord?”
He laughed. “It’s nothing an hour or so in the saddle won’t cure.” At the door he glanced back at her. “I want you to think about tonight, Jillian. Please, for both our sakes behave yourself.” On that bit of advice Adrian left.
Jillian clamped her lips together in frustration. Why did he have to ruin everything by being dictatorial? And why must she be weak, her heart beginning to want what her head knew she shouldn’t? She wouldn’t mind those times when they kissed and touched, if he did not insist on making their lovemaking into something it was not.
She knew her views were unnatural. Women coveted what the earl offered. A young lady spent her youth trying to attract a mate, holding her body aloof while she was at it, because she believed it was in her best interests. Perhaps it was.
But Jillian was afraid—oh, so afraid.
*****
CHAPTER 7
Adrian ate the last bite of his coddled egg and downed it with a gulp of ale. The dining room at Sutherfield was empty save for himself, and he assumed everyone had already eaten since it was no longer early.
It was unusually quiet this morning. Though breakfast had been laid on the sideboard, he had not seen a servant. And he was surprised to find the food had been allowed to cool. Adrian had heard a commotion in the hall when he began his meal a short while before but then things grew silent again.
He supposed he should feel grateful for the solitude, as he needed the time to think. Not that he hadn’t spent most of the preceding night flailing about in his bed, attempting to quell unwanted thoughts.
Lady Jillian Fitzgerald, bless her sweet, contradictory soul, was the greatest challenge of his life. She kept him off balance but her unpredictability was one of her attractions. He could not understand, however, why she vehemently opposed marriage, not just to him it would seem, but to anyone. Most women in her position would be praising the Almighty for saving them from a spinster’s fate.
It wasn’t that he considered himself the best catch around. And he could see why she might resent the notion that somehow she needed to be “saved.” But he would have been pleased if she had approached his offer with something less than disgust.
The earl smiled to himself, for he did know one thing after last night in Miss Prudence Milford’s parlor—Jillian was not disgusted by the physical side of a relationship.
For Adrian the prospect of awakening the lady’s latent sexuality was a fascinating proposition, one that intrigued and excited him more with each passing day. Unfortunately, every time he tried to seduce her he found himself caught in the moment, unable to control his own rampaging desires.
Jillian did not seem to think passion was reason enough to enter a union. But Adrian could think of none better—at least it should be part of the relationship. The practical interests of the aristocracy when considering marriage left him cold.
The difficult part was that he could not see how he had made any progress in convincing Jillian a marriage between them was for the best. A restless night and a solitary breakfast had brought him no closer to a solution.
Adrian pushed back his chair with the intention of searching for Simon, when the dining room door burst open and the man himself appeared on the threshold.
“Simon, I was just coming to look for you.”
The marquess stared at him wildly. “It’s time,” he said in an agitated voice.
“Time?”
“Cassandra began her confinement about two hours ago. I’ve sent for the doctor but he’s not here yet.”
That would explain why Adrian had not seen anyone today. The household was preoccupied.
Aloud, the earl said, “Is she in danger?”
“The midwife says no. Says everything is happening as it should. But damned if I know what that means. Cassandra’s beginning to be uncomfortable and I can’t do a thing for her.”
“Lord, you look awful,” the earl said, feeling the other man’s tension. “Sit down and calm yourself. You won’t be any help to your wife if you lose control.”
Simon took the seat but he perched on the edge of the chair, hands visibly shaking.
“You know, Simon, we all arrive the same way and most everyone lives to tell the tale.” Adrian clapped him awkwardly on the shoulder. “Try to hold up—tonight you will be a father.”
The marquess nodded absently. “Do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Escort Jillian here and Aunt Prudence, naturally, if she wishes to come. I’ll feel better with some family around me and so will Cassandra. I’ve sent word to her father. My mother is in Bath and not due back until tomorrow.”
“I’ll depart straightaway.”
Ten minutes later he left Sutherfield.
Jillian was in the garden when the earl galloped down the drive. He learned this at the front door and, rather than going inside, trotted around to the back of the house.
The lady glanced up at his approach, and instantly he saw reserve enter her eyes. Still, he detected something different about the way she looked at him—as if she were only now really seeing him. For some reason that gladdened the earl.
“My lord,” she greeted cordially—another thing that pleased him. “You are here earlier than usual.”
“I’ve some news.”
“Oh?”
“It’s Cassandra’s time. Simon asked that you and Pru come to Sutherfield. I think he needs the moral support.”
Jillian put down the basket of flowers she carried, her manner becoming businesslike. “
I must get ready.” She turned away and then spun back around. “Wait a minute. Aunt Pru’s carriage is broken. She can’t go. She doesn’t ride. I’ll meet you in the stable in thirty minutes.” Over her shoulder as she ran, “Have them give you some refreshment in the kitchen.”
Adrian smiled at her retreating back. She was the sort of female who could be counted on when she was needed, and he found that a reassuring quality in a woman who often kept him guessing. She would make a fine wife.
He did as she asked him and wandered into the kitchen, sitting at the table while he enjoyed an ale, upsetting Cook who clearly could not get used to his presence in her domain. He watched the clock and, twenty minutes after Jillian had gone inside, he headed for the stable.
She was there before him, having her horse saddled—with a sidesaddle. He glanced quickly at her but she did not return his look. Her closed expression told him he would be making a mistake to mention saddles or anything pertaining to saddles.
They began their journey in silence. Jillian rode confidently, handling Raven with as much ease as when she rode bareback. She had donned a habit, as surprising as the saddle, for she rarely wore clothing designated for certain activities or times of the day. The habit was outmoded—though not a fashion connoisseur, even he could see that—but the sleek rose-colored gown set off her figure and coloring perfectly. That, too, he refrained from mentioning.
At last she spoke.
“When did Cassandra begin her confinement?” she asked.
“This morning about two hours before I left Sutherfield to come for you.”
“How is Simon holding up?”
“He’s unnerved. Wants to do something but doesn’t know what. He thought your presence might be helpful—to keep him company while he paces if nothing else.”
She nodded. “Simon is several years older than I, yet we’ve always been close. Cassandra and I get along nicely as well. She’s not judgmental which is necessary if one is to accept me.”
In the Garden of Disgrace Page 11