Lord Heartless

by Tessa Berkley

  “As you wish.” Landon bowed his head to concede and stepped from her path.

  “My, the heat is taking its toll so early,” the countess said.

  Juliet ignored the jab and concentrated on walking with her head erect. She rounded the dowager’s chair and came abreast of her husband; only then did her steps falter. The air around them seemed charged. Her heart thumped wildly. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the fabric of his jacket tighten as he took a breath to speak. Her blood rushed to her ears to pound.

  “Shall I walk you to the door?”

  “I can manage, Your Grace.” She stepped toward the door.

  “The terrace entrance is the closest.”

  Juliet glanced over her shoulder, and for a beat of her heart, watched his muscles flex as if he knew she was watching. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she opened the door.

  “Take care, milady.”

  She slipped out the door and let it close behind her. Hands upon the knobs, she leaned back against the wood and let her heart subside to a normal beat. Lord Montague was driving her to distraction. But mindful of what the countess had said, she would keep him at bay.

  A man’s heart grows ever fonder when he cannot have what is desired, my dear. Landon has always had his way with the ladies. If he is indeed as smitten as I believe he is, then your play will be to keep him at arm’s length as long as possible.

  “So much easier said than done, Countess.” She sighed.

  Her slippers whispered as she crossed the polished floor of the hall to her husband’s study. Nervously, she grasped the doorknobs and opened them. Not knowing what to expect, she was surprised to see it well kept. No bottles scattered on the floor, nothing reeking of stale cigar smoke. In fact, the first whiff was that of sandalwood and lemon polish. The latter she attributed to Simmons. Walking through, she noticed the painting of the horse above the mantle and the roll of drawing spread across the table just in front of the terrace doors. She paused and pressed them out with her hand. The drawings were of a fine stable and she recalled their first meeting where he mentioned plans to move his racing stock to Holly Grove.

  “Good to your word,” she murmured.

  A sudden feeling of remorse grew heavy about her shoulders. Hurt twisted her brow. There was much to think about. In her mind, she had already condemned him as a manipulator, yet the man she now knew seemed capable of altering her mindset. “Am I wrong? Have I so misjudged you?” Unconsciously, she drew her hands together and fingered the simple gold band that adorned the third finger on her left hand. “Yes, there is much for me to think about.” She moved to the terrace doors, and she opened them to the night.

  ***

  “Simmons, a glass of wine.” Landon took his seat and drew his napkin once again over his knee.

  “So, that is it?”

  “What?” Landon growled, evading his mother’s question. Secretly he had hoped Juliet might have relented and allowed him to join her for a stroll. Hearing his mother huff, he glanced over at the head of the table and watched her straighten her shoulders. Mouth tight, she pulled her hands to clasp them together and rested the sides upon the table’s edge. He added a layer of skin, knowing her sharp tongue was about to thrash in his direction.

  “Is that all you plan to say?” Her voice mimicked his own. “May I accompany you? Enjoy your stroll. Really, Landon, how very bourgeoisie. I dare say you have been in Black’s company way to long.”

  “I’m sorry, it is the best I can do.”

  “Then your best is not good enough.”

  It wasn’t. He moved his hand toward the glass signaling enough. Simmons backed away. “What would you have me do? Demand she spend time in my company? Juliet would rail against that.” He lifted the glass of wine, tilting it as a bowl of fresh strawberries appeared on his plate. He drew a deep sigh and set the stemware heavily onto the table.

  “I should think you might follow her out to the garden. In my day, the moonlight was quite intoxicating.”

  Landon studied his glass as his mother’s fork clinked against the bowl. The deeper his focus the lighter the ring at the top of the liquid became. It bothered him that Juliet thought the worst. He had this odd inner sense of wishing to please her, even more than the Ton, or his mother. Yes, she was his wife, and yet, there was something deeper that moved between them when they spoke. He wanted her in some aspects to look up to him. The fact that she didn’t mystified him and left him unsettled.

  “Landon!” The dowager’s sharp rebuke brought his head around with a jerk. Red splotches encompassed her cheeks and those sharp eyes blazed. “You have not heard a word I have said.”

  He took a deep breath and pulled his napkin from his lap. “On the contrary, Mother, I have heard quite enough.” He rose and kissed her on the cheek.

  “Lord Montague, we are not through with our discussion.”

  “Yes, Mama, we are.” He turned toward the door. “You can make do with Simmons, can you not?”

  “I have in the past, but why? Where are you off to? The clubs?” the dowager demanded.

  Landon turned and took a Cheshire cat smile. “No, I think I rather fancy that walk in the garden to enjoy the moonlight.”

  His mother’s mouth formed an “O.” Landon turned and opened both doors, then heard her say, “This younger generation cannot think for themselves, Simmons. We must lead them like cattle to the well.” She let go a deep sigh without exception for his benefit. “I fear for England. It will not survive when they take over the reins of government.”

  Landon grinned as he closed the doors.

  ***

  He had no sense of time. However standing at the open doors of the terrace, his hand resting on the jamb, he watched her pace among the shadows as the night closed in. The rose garden had been laid out by his mother many years ago. The pathways scattered with oyster shells and bordered by more than two-dozen rose bushes of all hues. The center focus however was the fountain his father had painstakingly brought back from Greece at the height of his travels.

  Dropping his hand, he walked out onto the flagstone of the terrace and took a step down. From this angle, Juliet disappeared. His boots crunched against the ground as he strode in the quiet toward the fountain. At the edge of the path, he spied her, turning hands clenched before her, her gaze focused on the ground. Her face a mask of intense emotion—she seemed to be deliberating something of great importance. Swallowing the nervousness that arose in his throat, Landon stepped into her path.

  His boot pressed against a fallen branch the gardener failed to pick up. The snap caused her to stop and look up. He caught the slight dart of her eyes and feared she might flee. “Forgive me, Juliet, I didn’t wish to startle you.”

  “It is your house, your garden, milord.”

  His teeth clenched. He wished she would drop the formal when they were alone. “Yes, it is the family garden.” He walked toward her and offered her his arm. “Shall we stroll?”

  He held his arm steady and waited patiently until her hand touched his sleeve. Landon allowed a soft smile to lift the corners of his lips. Placing his right hand over hers, he led her down the path toward the center of the garden.

  “When I was Alexander’s age, I used to hate coming out here.”

  “Really?” She sounded surprised. “I would think it would be a perfect place for a child to hide.”

  “Perhaps, it was.” He shrugged. “But usually if I were in the garden, it meant that I had been caught in some mischief.”

  “You? Mischief? I find that hard to believe.”

  He glanced to his left. By Jove, she was teasing. He grinned. “You’d be surprised.” They rounded a corner and came to a small marble bench. Landon let go of Juliet’s hand so she could sit.

  “Still, it hardly seems like punishment.”

  “May I?” He gestured to the space beside her.

  She smiled and scooted down. “To a young boy, pulling weeds and planting flowers would seem like being sent to Newg
ate.”

  “Oh, it was.” He took his seat.

  “You don’t talk about your childhood.”

  “No. I guess no more than you talk about yours.”

  Juliet looked down at her dress. “I’m afraid mine was very guarded. Father off and about after my mother’s death, his whole world had so changed.”

  “What happened to your mother?”

  “It was a carriage accident. She and Father were coming home from a party. It was raining. The driver hit a hole the carriage turned over. Mother was pinned beneath in a stream and drowned.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you. From that moment on, he found it hard to stay at Holly Grove.”

  “I can imagine,” Landon murmured.

  Her head tilted forward. “So your youth?”

  “Ah.” He took a deep breath. “Not so dissimilar.”

  “Really?”

  “My father dealt with antiquities. He was gone much of the time to the Middle East, places like Egypt, Rome, and Athens.”

  “So it was just you and the countess?”

  Landon nodded. “I think I still resent his absence. I should have liked to have had a father who at least came to see me.”

  “Is that why Alexander studies at home?”

  Landon looked away. “Yes. I want my son to know his father.”

  “Hm.” Juliet rose and walked toward the fountain.

  “Hm? Is that a compliment, or a murmur of disapproval?” he asked, following her.

  “Perhaps a bit of both. I believe it is wise for a son to know his father, but do you want Alexander to know all? The rumors? The innuendo?”

  “Perhaps he should not, but I am not perfect. Should he not know that?”

  Juliet took a deep breath. “Yes, well, one would think. I do know a child places their parent upon the pedestal because they are the hero who brought them into this world.”

  “Ah, duly noted.” Landon nodded. “I shall have to clean up my act and become a better example.”

  “Tell me, what happened to your father?”

  Landon stared at the water. “He passed away from some fever in a small village outside Athens. I was a mere lad of twenty. I took over my father’s ships, and we brought his body home. He is buried near the abbey where the racing stock is kept.”

  They grew silent until she reached for his hand. “It must have been hard becoming the man of the family under such circumstances.”

  “It was the end of my wild ways.” He placed his hand over hers. “But then you know that as well.” He cocked his head to one side. “We are kindred spirits.”

  “It appears so.” A grin of understanding tugged the corners of her lips toward her eyes.

  Landon stepped to the side and plucked an unopened rose from a nearby bush. He brought the soft velvet of the petals to her cheek. “Ah, look, the same delicate shade.”

  Juliet lowered her lashes. “You flatter me.”

  “There is not enough flattery to equal your beauty, my wife.” He stepped close and instead of handing the flower to her, placed it in to the intricate twist of her hair. The air around them seemed to change. The scent of the flowers grew heavy as he gazed down into her upturned face. All the women since Alexander’s mother seemed to fade in comparison to the woman before him. Those ladies did not expect commitment. They wanted to be courted, played fancy to, then left alone as they moved on. Now, his heart was called into question. Did he have to courage to let go and give it willingly to the woman before him?

  He swallowed the lump in his throat and brought his hand along her cheek in a gentle caress. “Dear Juliet,” he began as his desire intensified. Their gazes locked. Words were lost as he read the unbridled longing in her eyes. His heart twisted then let go. He stepped closer. She did not flee, instead she lifted her chin and he watched, in deep fascination, as she dampened her lips.

  The gesture called him to act.

  His left arm stole about her waist. The fingers of his right hand opened to cover her neck while his thumb stroked the edge of her jaw. The gentle urge caused her to angle her head as his lowered. The soft brush of her breath warmed his skin. For a second, his mouth hovered over hers. Her lashes lowered to brush her cheek as he captured her lips.

  Soft, sweet, her mouth molded to his as his arm tightened, pulling her closer to his body. Her hand found the sleeve of his jacket as he tilted her slightly to the left to rest securely in his arms. His body leaped to respond to the deepening kiss. He could feel his member press against the softness of her gown. Heat spiraled between them.

  His hand that guided her head, moved downward, across the expanse of her shoulder, to her upper arm where it found its way to the bodice of her gown. Using a feathery touch, he skimmed the neckline and brushed the fullness of her breast. Satin made a delightful friction against the pads of his fingers and skin it held at bay. She groaned. Landon flicked his tongue over the opening of her lips as his hand captured the orb.

  She trembled slightly as his fingers moved down her breast to the puckered nipple that pushed erect over the edge of her corset. Her arousal only served to intensify his own desire. The urge to take her then and there in the garden unnerved him. His mouth left hers and blazed a trail of kisses toward the lobe of her ear. He could hear the rush of her breath. His tongue lavished the sensitive spot just below her earlobe. Her fingers grasped the wrinkle in his coat as his mouth followed the slope of her neck to the rise of her bosom. Her head fell back. He pressed his hand below the stays of her corset. The flesh rose and he kissed his way to the valley of her cleavage. Then he slowly thrust his tongue between the tender mounds of her breasts, twisting it teasingly. Her hands moved to ensnare his head and hold him captive. Her breath turned to pants. Her body tightened in his arms. Oh, how he wished they were upstairs, for this was no place to further his exploration. With the deepest of regret, he released her.

  She clung to him for a moment as her strength returned. Only when her arms pressed him away did he ease his support away from her.

  “A rose garden is no place for seduction.”

  She nodded and pressed the front of her gown down. The tulle that sculpted the front was askew. Her face flushed from the excitement.

  “Perhaps,” she began with a shattered breath. “Perhaps another time.”

  He turned slightly so she would not see how her kisses affected him. “Yes,” he agreed. “Another time.”

  “If you’ll pardon me, I shall go check on Alexander.”

  He nodded, and to his surprise, he let her walk away.

  Chapter Ten

  With each step toward the house, her heartbeat returned to normal and the strength returned to her limbs. Landon’s kisses had so scattered her thoughts she might have so easily let him plunder more than her lips. Juliet stepped onto the terrace and hazarded to look back. “If only you could love me. I fear that this is no more than a challenge for Lord Heartless. If only you could give me one soft word of hope.” She blinked back the sudden onset of tears that threatened. Returning to the house, she made her way up to the nursery to see Alexander.

  Nanny greeted her as she opened the door. “Lady Montague.” Her eyes widened with surprise.

  “I came to check on Alexander.”

  The nurse turned and looked toward the other door. “I’ve checked on him. He is sleeping.”

  “May I?”

  “Of course.”

  Nanny stepped out of the path and Juliet opened the door. In a large bed, a small figure lay curled in the moonlight that streamed through the two large windows. Maneuvering past the lines of tin soldiers, Juliet made her way to the bed and sat down beside him. The child stirred when she placed her hand upon his cheek. “Alexander?”

  He rolled over onto his back and rubbed the deep sleep from his eyes. “Lady Montague.”

  “I came to see how you were feeling.”

  “I am better. You heard I had pie?”

  Her lips twitched. “That you did, dear Alexander. Wha
t possessed you to eat the whole thing?”

  “It was good.” He paused. “In the beginning. Is Father mad?”

  Juliet shook her head. “No. Your father loves you very much. Sit up,” she told him. She placed her back against the tall oak headboard and opened her arms. “Now, lay back.”

  Alexander did so and she brushed the dark curls from his forehead as he lay in her lap gazing up.

  “I think I shall tell you a story.”

  “A story? Will there be pirates?”

  “Certainly not, they are much too violent for bedtime. No, this story has a little boy in it just like you.”

  ***

  Landon climbed the stairs to the nursery. Standing outside the door he heard Juliet’s voice speaking low. Stepping inside, he caught Nanny going toward the door. Shaking his head, he raised his fingers to his lips and silenced her. With soft steps he moved to the doorway and peeked in.

  His eyes focused on Juliet holding his child in her lap and stroking his brow with tenderness. Listening to her words, he realized she was retelling the story he had told her earlier. Alexander listened enraptured. Landon stepped back and leaned against the wall just outside the opening to listen. He didn’t want Juliet to know he was there. How tender she was with his child. How kind. Closing his eyes he could almost feel the soft strokes of her hand across his own brow. A pang of jealousy made his heart skip a beat and he wondered if Alexander realized just how lucky he was. Something he would address the next time the two were alone. His son’s next words made him forget himself.

  “So I am like my father?”

  “You are that,” Juliet agreed. “You are just as handsome, just as roguish, just as frustrating. Moreover, your taste in pies is exactly the same.”

  Landon peeked around the corner. So, I am handsome as well as frustrating. His lips twitched in delight as some of his wife’s feelings came to light. Alexander gazed adoringly into Juliet’s face and seemed to take satisfaction in her words. He angled his head so he could look into her downturned face. Her soft smile was more potent than Cupid’s arrow. Landon seemed to lose his breath.