Though he knew Jillian was warming to him, at the pace she had permitted their courtship to progress, it might be months, even longer before she agreed to marry him. He found that unacceptable.
He had been less accessible lately, not coming as often, not pursuing her with as much dedication, not because his interest had waned but because he wanted her to think. He hoped she would be concerned by the sudden withdrawal of his attention and, as a result, be more agreeable when he began wooing her again. This time he meant to take their relationship to another level.
If they become lovers then she would marry him due to expediency if nothing else. However, he was honest enough with himself to admit he desired more because a marriage built upon expediency might generate little affection. When he thought of a long-term relationship with Jillian, Adrian knew he wanted more.
Naturally Jillian had a choice. She could refuse him, could send him packing. And he would go. But something told Adrian she would find turning him away difficult. There was passion between them. He sensed it every time they were in the same room together. He knew she sensed it, also.
He heard a door open down the hall and the murmur of voices. Racing to his own door, he cracked it slightly to see which room Jillian entered.
She went into the bedchamber across the hall from his. Dear Lord, he thought beginning to feel aroused, she was so close it was a recipe for illicit activity. He was thankful Aunt Pru had overindulged tonight.
The earl crossed to the washbasin, pulled off his shirt, dashed cold water in his face and ran wet fingers through his hair. He glanced in the mirror, confirming his suspicion—he needed a shave. Too bad but he didn’t have a razor and, without disturbing people he did not want disturbed, he had no chance of getting one.
He sat on the side of the bed and removed his boots and socks. Standing again, he wondered how long he should wait. If he did not react quickly enough, she might go to sleep and the opportunity would be lost. That decided him.
Adrian reached for the brandy and glasses on his way from the room. Easing the door open, he glanced both ways down the hall. Everything was quiet except the rush of rain and wind buffeting the house and the occasional clap of thunder.
All at once he was nervous. What he was about to attempt would seal his future as nothing else had. And yet that was not what worried him. He already knew he wanted Jillian. What he could not be sure of was whether or not she wanted him. What if she rejected him? Was he risking more than his pride?
The answer was in the room across from him and, feeling as though he had come too far to retreat, Adrian stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him.
*****
Jillian entered her room with the storm still raging outside, uncomfortable with how the evening had ended. Aunt Prudence had drunk too much, and now Adrian slept only a few feet away across the hall. His presence on the other side of a locked door should not have bothered her.
But it did.
All evening she had tried to forget the image of a handsome man stripped to his skin, abashed as he stared at her across her aunt’s kitchen. She had felt sorry for him, for he truly had been disconcerted by the invasion of his privacy. To her dismay she had felt something else.
The earl had a magnificent physique. He was long and lean, sinewy, as if he used his body, not like so many of the soft, pampered aristocrats she knew. Jillian had to smile to herself, though, because she had never thought to see a man quite so sheepish about displaying his “charms.”
She undressed and donned a cotton nightdress then pulled loose the perennial ribbon that held her hair. She sat at her dressing table to the light of a single candle and began the chore of detangling her thick mane.
A soft, urgent knock sounded on her door and Jillian paused, the brush she wielded held in midair. She opened her mouth to ask who it was, but some instinct she could not identify made her decide to use caution. Warily, she rose from her seat and crossed the room.
She turned the knob and peeked out. Adrian stood in the hall, shirtless, shoeless, an engaging grin on his handsome features, clutching what looked like her aunt’s brandy decanter and two glasses. For a moment she was too stunned to speak.
“Have you lost your mind, my lord?”
The smile continued unabated. “I’m sure we could argue that possibility,” he said in an undertone, “but I think you should invite me in so we don’t disturb the household.”
“Absolutely not.”
The smile widened. “Tsk, tsk, that’s not the answer for which I’d hoped. I suppose I’ll have to wait out here in the hall until you see it my way.”
Jillian wanted to close the door on him and his ridiculous threat, but the expression on his face indicated his intention of doing just as he promised. She feared taking the chance.
“Oh, all right, but only for a moment.” She stepped out of the way, allowing him to enter. As she clicked the door into place, she turned on him. “What can you be thinking? My aunt is only a few doors away—she’ll hear us.”
“Aunt Pru won’t be hearing much tonight between the brandy and the storm.”
She detected a silky, insinuating quality to the words and all at once she looked at him, taking in his naked torso, the bottle and glasses he held. His black hair glistened with moisture. He appeared frighteningly seductive, his features all shadows and deep angles enhanced by a day’s growth of beard, staring at her through light blue eyes too friendly for comfort.
“Did you get Aunt Pru drunk on purpose?” she asked, appalled by the possibility.
The smile finally slipped. “I would never hurt your aunt,” the earl said. “If you don’t know that then you don’t know me.”
“Adrian, why are you here?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” he said. “I’ve missed you, love. We are never alone together. I thought a little more brandy and some pleasant conversation might make me sleepy.”
“But this is improper, scandalously so. Aren’t you the one who has given me lectures on behaving? You’re asking me to do the very thing you say I should not.”
“Aren’t you the one who has told society to go to hell? I thought the impropriety would appeal to you.”
Jillian was surprised by how much those bald words hurt. “You don’t think much of me, do you, my lord?”
Adrian’s expression softened. “I think very much of you, Jillian.” He put his arm around her shoulders and led her to the window seat. “Come, let’s watch the storm, shall we? Have a few sips of brandy with me—there’s hardly any left so we can’t get drunk—and we’ll talk.”
Still unsure, she allowed him to guide her across the room. Once they were seated the earl handed her a goblet, measuring out the remaining brandy so they each had an equal amount before he placed the decanter on the floor. He clicked his glass against hers.
“To us,” he said.
Though Jillian wanted to respond, she could not. Those simple words implied a commitment and, despite feeling closer to the earl than ever before, she did not know if she was ready to make that promise.
The look in his eyes told her he understood.
“Where is your shirt?” she asked, changing the subject.
Adrian raised his foot to the cushion on the window seat, resting his forearm on his knee. “Does my lack of shirt bother you? After today I thought nothing could shock you. You’ve seen all there is to see.”
Disturbingly, she was aware of his semi-dressed state as he leaned casually against the inset wall of the seat, aware of the pleasing contours of his handsome body. But more than that, she wanted to know what his purpose was in approaching her in such an obvious way.
“It’s not shock. I just wondered why.”
The smile he gave her was warm with satisfaction. “Do you know what I like most about you, Jillian? You never disappoint me. I expect you to say one thing, and you nearly always say something else. We’ll never be bored with one another. That’s where most marriages fail, you know—boredom.”
/> “I don’t know why you should be surprised because I’m not shocked. I’m not a girl and I’m not as naive as you might think.”
The earl’s gaze sharpened. “Is that so? Is there anything in particular you are trying to tell me?”
Jillian knew what he asked and she suddenly felt caught in the web of her own cryptic words. She did not want him to think poorly of her but, on the other hand, she did not want him to treat her like a complete innocent either.
“Not in the way you mean,” she said at last, deciding to meet the question honestly. He looked so relieved, she smiled inwardly. “I’m not going to tell you I haven’t had opportunities. Even in the country away from everything a certain type of male ferrets out the heiress, the woman of rank who can help his position.”
“I remember you saying to Simon that you’d had offers.”
“Some more honorable than others.”
Adrian frowned. “Have you been insulted?”
“More times than you can imagine. A destroyed reputation leaves one unprotected.”
“That is especially true for a woman.”
“Mostly true for a woman,” Jillian countered. She pulled her own legs up on the window seat, feet tucked beneath her, careful to cover her limbs with her gown. “After the scandal I was remembered from my come-out, and several gentlemen followed me when I left London, one at a time, you understand, but not until Father had died and could no longer shield me from such advances. Nearly all were fortune hunters. Lord Peabody was perverted in some way, and he wanted a wife for, well…” she felt her face warm, “to be frank, I’m not certain why he wanted a wife but he frightened me.”
“I remember him, filthy bastard,” Adrian muttered.
“My sentiments exactly. But the point is, not one of those men intended to take me back to London, not one. I could live in the country, thankful someone wanted to marry me—or simply wanted me—and rot away. Some of the gentlemen coveted my inheritance and others coveted my body, but none of them wanted to acknowledge me. Yet every gentleman to a man thought I should be grateful for his efforts to ‘rescue’ me. Somehow those offers did not seem an improvement on my lot. Aunt Pru does love me when all is said and done, and I still have my autonomy.”
“I will take you back to London, proudly, on my arm for all to see.”
Jillian heard the compassion in his voice, and at that instant lightning tore across the sky, exposing his features. The look in his eyes mirrored the ardent words. A barrier of long duration, tight and unyielding, gave way in her chest, and she felt tears spring to her eyes.
The earl must have realized her sudden vulnerability, for he set his drink on the floor, and reaching across the space between them, eased away the glass she held, placing it next to his. Taking her hand, he pulled her toward him and it never occurred to Jillian to resist. She came up on her knees and Adrian, still seated, enveloped her in his arms, resting his head on her breast. She laid her cheek against his forehead, steeping herself in the warmth of his comforting embrace.
The kindness was her undoing. She knew why he had come, knew what he wanted. She had known when she first opened the door and saw him standing there, half-naked, bringing the brandy in case his body was not enough enticement. Jillian supposed if she had meant to turn him away, she would have done it then. Whatever her motivation—and admittedly she hardly understand herself at present—she could not refuse him.
Perhaps Adrian sensed her surrender, for she recognized the moment his effort at solace became something more. His hands, motionless up till now, began the slow exploration of her back, her hips. He slipped his hands beneath the hem of her gown, finding the sensitive flesh of her buttocks and thighs. Where he touched her, her skin tingled deliciously. She heard his breathing intensify as he turned his head and took the tip of her breast in his mouth through the fine muslin of her gown.
Jillian shuddered, overcome by a flash of ecstasy that streaked through her belly and ended in her throat. She moaned aloud, the sound shocking her but clearly inciting Adrian. He dragged her down beside him so she sat between his legs and, taking her face in his hands, forced her to look at him.
“Kiss me, Jillian,” he commanded, his voice now heavy with passion.
His light eyes glittered strangely, lustfully, and she felt a corresponding thrill in her pelvis that was equal parts excitement and apprehension.
“Kiss me!”
Jillian had no wish to refuse him. She met him halfway, their lips joining fiercely as she wrapped her arms around him.
Outside the storm wailed with new intensity as tree branches slapped the window and thunder rumbled constantly through the malevolent night. The rain came in turbulent gusts, beating the panes of glass like tiny stones.
Adrian released her mouth and her hold on him to tug at the tiny ribbons that closed the top of her gown, untying each one until the neck was wide enough to slip the garment from her shoulders. Pulling her hands through the armholes, he lowered the nightdress to her waist.
“My God—as beautiful as I remembered.” He groaned the words as he stroked the soft peaks, the nipples puckering in response to the intimate contact.
Jillian cupped his jaw, covered with a fine dark stubble, in her hand. “And you’re beautiful, my lord.” She lowered her fingers to caress the muscle of his solid chest.
The earl watched the movement before bringing his gaze back to hers, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiled his appreciation. He touched her lips with his own then, lightly, almost reverently while drawing her to him again. Jillian was enthralled by the seductive pleasure of skin against skin. He filled his lungs with air, and she could feel him soaking in the texture of her just as she was doing with him.
Adrian came to his feet, bringing her with him. He pulled impatiently at the nightdress that clung to her hips, and the wispy garment slid down her legs to her feet. She was naked and it was an amazingly erotic experience, one she knew he shared with her.
He continued to kiss her, determined kisses meant to stem any protest she might have, but Jillian had no intention of reneging now. His urgency flowed over her, consuming her. She was caught in the rapture, desire tearing through her system like quicksilver, leaving her exposed and wanting.
Her thoughts were oddly jumbled, distracted in one way and keen to the point of being obsessive in another. The tiny part of her that was still rational recognized the compulsion, and for the first time she understood.
Feeling wondrously wanton she brought questing fingers to the front of his breeches. One by one she released the buttons.
Adrian went immobile as she began her endeavors, but she was aware of his greedy gaze as he watched her, his quickened respiration, his accelerating need. When she reached opened hands into his waistband, he threw his head back, a pained expression on his face. Suddenly flustered, Jillian began to pull away from him.
“Adrian? Have I done wrong? I only meant…”
He grabbed her wrists, forestalling her retreat, and she was shocked by the savage hunger contorting his features.
“A woman who enters into the lovemaking in earnest is what a man desires most,” he whispered in a lust-filled voice. “No, you have not done wrong.”
The earl scooped her up into his arms and crossed to the bed, setting her on the counterpane. He then swiftly stripped off his breeches and drawers, all the while his sight focused on her unclad form as if he intended to devour her. Now also naked, he joined her there, covering her with himself.
For Jillian time became a nebulous thing while Adrian worked his magic, finding responsive places on her body unknown to her until that moment—the nape of her neck, the small of her back, an inner thigh. His hand came to rest on her lower belly, and he reared up to look at her as he slipped his fingers between her legs. His eyes glowed triumphantly.
“Ah…you do want me, Jillian,” he ground out, his excitement palpable.
She stared at him, dazed by the wondrous pleasure his touch produced. She wanted so
mething, she thought frantically as she pressed against his palm. The need was becoming unbearably insistent, impossible to ignore.
On the periphery of her mind she heard the crescendoing of the storm, the windows rattling with each thunderclap until it felt as though the house might collapse around them.
Adrian removed his hand, his manner also frenzied as he thrust his hips between her thighs. One dazzling bolt of lightning blazed through the heavens, illuminating her cozy bedroom and the magnificent man who loomed above her.
The thunder roared as he buried himself in her.
Jillian panicked. A pain that left her gasping doused the joy and she cried aloud. Adrian wrapped his arms around her, bringing his hot mouth to her ear as he whispered words of comfort, murmuring his understanding. But he did not withdraw. Instead, he stroked within her, first slowly, then more rapidly, and she clung to him, caught somewhere between ecstasy and anguish.
Adrian stiffened as a low guttural sound tore from his throat. His breathing was rapid, harsh, and for long moments he held her in a vise-like grip, but when he pulled back to look at her, the savage expression had dissipated, and his vision seemed to clear. He kissed her tenderly.
“Have I hurt you, love?”
Still reeling from unbelievably diverse emotions, Jillian merely stared at him, unable to speak over the tears of frustration that all at once clogged her throat.
The rain was reduced to no more than a gentle shower, tapping timidly at the shutters.
The wind was gone.
“Jillian?”
With much difficulty she found her voice. “Perhaps it would be best if you went back to your room now,” she said, desperate not to let him see her cry.
He shook his head slowly. “Not just yet, sweetheart. This would be an unforgivable moment for me to leave you alone.”
In the Garden of Disgrace Page 14