She looked out over the rolling hills that were now covered in wildflowers. “Stepping onto a path that will lead to Allie’s ruination.”
“If she is half as strong as her mother, there is nothing that will ever cause her ruin.”
“I hope you’re right.” She smiled brightly. “Let’s take her on that picnic, shall we?”
He chose a spot near the small pond where he and Albert had fished as lads, where he had shoved his brother into the frigid waters for declaring that Edward would always have to follow his commands. To Albert, he’d proven his point that he wouldn’t be ordered about. To himself, he’d proven that he’d always be there to get his brother out of trouble, even if he was the one who originally got Albert into it.
When Albert partially lost his hearing, Edward had learned there were consequences to his actions. That lesson had not served him as well as it might have.
Had he told Julia the truth shortly after she’d delivered, he might not have lost her trust, might not now be stretched out on a blanket with her sitting feet away from him—instead of nestled against him—and Allie resting on her stomach between them, periodically pushing her head up so she could gaze at her surroundings. She had the sweetest smile, and he suspected she was going to break many a heart.
Unfortunately, he feared her mother was going to break his.
The nanny was reading several yards away, her back resting against the trunk of a tree. He wondered if Julia had wanted her in attendance not such much to care for Allie should the need arise, but to ensure that he didn’t take advantage. Although why she thought he would now when he hadn’t yet was beyond him. Except that maybe she could tell he was skirting the limits of his patience.
He wanted her—badly.
She was wearing a dress of dark blue. A wide-brimmed hat shaded her from the sun, and had hidden much of her face from his view until he’d gone down on an elbow, with the excuse of wanting to be nearer to Allie. But whenever he brought his face in close to his niece and made her smile, he was able to lift his gaze just enough to see her mother’s serene expression.
He liked that she appeared happy, liked that perhaps the darker days were behind her. He didn’t fool himself into believing she wasn’t mourning or that she would ever be grateful to have lost Albert in order to gain Edward. He understood his place in her heart. But coming in second when he had no hope of being first was something with which he could live.
All that mattered to him was that for him she would always be first. Every other woman didn’t even come in a close second. Each was dead last. He wasn’t willing to settle for less than what he wanted, even if it took a lifetime to acquire her. Without her, his life had no anchor, no purchase, no direction. Even being the Earl of Greyling gave less purpose to his life than she did.
For her and her daughter, he would rule a kingdom. Without them, it was merely land to be looked after.
She took a sip of wine, nibbled delicately on some cheese, and while she appeared to be occupied with something in the distance, from his lower vantage point he could see how often her gaze flicked to him. She was not as immune to his presence as she wanted him to believe.
“It’s unseasonable warm today,” he said.
“I hadn’t noticed. I find it rather pleasant. I do hope you’re not taking another fever.”
“Could be that I’m just warm because you’re near.”
She laughed, a tinkling that would open the gates to heaven. “Please don’t ruin our afternoon with trite flattery.”
“For two months, Julia, I’ve been as steadfast a friend as possible. How can I win you over without flattery, without seducing you? How much longer must I behave?”
Her gaze darted to Nanny.
“She can’t hear us,” he said. “Besides, she believes me to be your husband. She would think nothing of it if I were to take liberties.”
Julia took another sip of wine, touched her tongue to the bow of her upper lip. God help him, but he wanted to dive across the distance separating them and place his own tongue there. Pushing himself up, he shirked out of his jacket and tossed it near the spot where he’d earlier pitched his hat.
“What are you doing?” Julia asked.
“I told you that I’m hot. Stiflingly so. I feel as though I’m suffocating.” He tugged on his neck cloth.
“Wait.” Her voice held no panic but there was something primal in it that caused his lower extremity to stir. Not that it generally took much from her for that to happen. “Nanny! Take Lady Alberta to the nursery. I fear it’s growing much too warm out here for her.”
“Yes, m’lady.” She placed her book in the bag that contained Allie’s things, slung it over her shoulder, marched over and plucked the child into her arms. Allie squealed with delight. “You are flushed, little one. Let’s leave Mummy and Daddy to enjoy the picnic while we enjoy a nap.”
With the nanny’s parting words, he felt Julia’s mood change as though a shroud had been dropped over her. Neither of them spoke nor moved until the woman had disappeared over the rise.
“Would we ever tell her about her father?” Julia asked quietly, her gaze directed where they had gone as though she had the ability to follow their progress to the manor and into the nursery.
“When she’s old enough to understand the import of keeping it a secret.”
“Until then she’ll believe you’re her father. How will she feel when she finds out differently?”
“We don’t have to tell her.”
With a sigh, she looked at him.
He rose up on a knee, held out a hand. “Come here.”
She took the time to remove her hat before coming into his arms.
“It’s not perfect, Julia, but the alternative is that we shall never have this.” Gently, tenderly, holding all the hunger and need at bay, he angled her back over his raised knee and lowered his mouth to hers. It was as though he had finally come home. As though all his journeys, all his adventures, had been simply a quest for what he could not identify. But here it was at last, with her fingers cradling his jaw, her sighs filling his ears, her mouth moving over his with wild abandon.
No other woman made him feel whole, complete. No other woman touched the very essence of him. No other woman made him want to put away his roguish ways. How much simpler life would be if he could walk away, but he could no more do that than he could cease to breathe.
She twisted in his arms, changing the angle so he could more easily deepen the kiss, and he did just that, sliding his tongue over hers, threading his fingers through her hair until he could hold her head. He wanted to take her down to the blanket, take her as though she belonged to him. But that step had to come from her. He wanted her to have no doubts, no regrets. Once they were as one, there would be no turning back.
She was not a woman who gave herself lightly. It made him want her all the more, made him determined to be what she deserved.
Breaking off the kiss, he held her gaze, her eyes pools of limpid blue. “I could give you the vows.”
Her gaze roamed over his face as she feathered her fingers lightly through his hair. “I want to show you something I’ve done in watercolors.”
Not what he’d expected. A profession of love was more what he had in mind. Not a desire to share whimsical creatures with him. He cursed his foolish heart for misjudging her readiness, for believing that a kiss and a few well-placed words could turn the tide in his favor.
Helping her straighten, he said, “I’d like that very much.”
“I’ve heard more enthusiasm from someone on the verge of having a tooth extracted.” She gave him a teasing smile. “But trust me, you’re going to be ever so glad that I showed it to you.”
As Julia watched Edward pack up their picnic, she could no longer deny the strength of her feelings for him. She’d almost laughed aloud watching him strive for a look
of innocence that barely passed muster while he removed his jacket. She was fairly certain the neck cloth and waistcoat were going to join it in the pile quickly enough. A few loosened buttons, the rolling up of his shirtsleeves to expose those corded forearms, and he’d have had her mouth watering.
She wasn’t averse to being taken on a blanket in a field by a pond—on another day. On this one, she needed something different.
He offered his arm, and she wound hers around it. Strange how he made her feel small and delicate. He’d regained the weight he lost during his illness. He was out riding every day, assisting tenants where he could. He thrived in the outdoors. She wondered if he would ever be truly content serving as lord of the manor, or if a time would come when the wanderlust took hold again.
“Do you have any plans to travel?” she asked as the wide front steps of the manor came into view.
“Not presently. Is there somewhere you would like to go? I’ll book passage wherever you want, whenever you want.”
“I’ve always found the idea of being on the sea rather daunting. To look out and see nothing stretching into forever.” She’d seen it from the shore. She couldn’t imagine being in the center of it.
“Ah, but then you sight land after days or weeks of travel, and the joy of it can almost make a man weep.”
“I shall take your word for it.”
“You have no desire to travel?”
“Not while Allie is so small.”
“We could take her with us.”
She laughed. How like a man. “Have you no idea what all is required to travel with an infant? Even our journey to London will require extra planning and room for her things.”
“We can purchase whatever she needs when we get to London.”
“She will require things along the way. And you like to go to remote, unpopulated places. How will you provide for her there?”
“I can be most resourceful.”
She didn’t doubt it. To be honest, she would like to be with him somewhere far away beneath the stars where they would not be subjected to Society’s censures. No matter what choice she made, it came with a cost. The gossips were not prone to listening to reason, to making allowances, to understanding circumstances that warranted unprecedented actions.
Inside the residence, they walked the familiar hallways until they reached what had once been her favorite room. Now she was torn between the nursery, his library, and the billiards room. She enjoyed each one with equal measure.
Still, this room and what she did within it brought her peace. She led him to a table where an assortment of drawings were scattered. The one she wanted was on the bottom, hidden away. Bringing it out, she set it on top. “A new character for the stories.”
“A wolf in a linen shirt, knee britches, and boots. And you’ve given him a rapier. That’ll please Johnny.”
Mrs. Lark and her children had settled in at Evermore. From time to time Edward would take the lad for a ride. She suspected he wove his tales for him then.
“I suppose it will. What do you think of the new addition to our menagerie?”
“People don’t generally like wolves. They’re wily. I take it he’s another villain.”
“No, he’s on par with the steed. He’s noble, protective. Strong. The others look up to him.”
“I’ll work him into the next story.”
She smiled. “You don’t recognize who he is?”
He shook his head, clearly baffled, and she didn’t know why his reaction caused her to love him all the more. “Yet you saw yourself so easily in the weasel.”
“That’s supposed to represent me?”
“Not supposed to. It does.”
He brought his gaze to bear on her, and she saw the torment and doubt woven there. “Julia, I am not noble.”
“Yes, you are.” She placed her hand against his jaw. “Protective.” She slid her fingers up until they could toy with the hair at his temple. “Strong. I was wrong. You’re not the weasel. You were never the weasel. That was just a façade. You are a good and honorable man.” She stepped forward until her breasts flattened against his chest, took delight in his sharp intake of breath, the darkening of his eyes. “If the only way that I can have you is to live a lie, then I choose to live a lie.”
“Jules.” He tugged her in closer, locked his arms around her, pressed a kiss to her neck, her cheek, her temple.
She held him tightly. She’d struggled with this decision, but she knew it was the right one, the only one. She wanted him in her bed, wanted to give him children, wanted to be his wife.
Leaning back, he took her face between his hands, burned his gaze into hers. “I, Edward Alcott, promise to love, honor, and cherish you as long as we both shall live. I shall be as good a husband as a man can be.”
“I, Julia Alcott, promise to love, honor, and cherish you as long as we both shall live. I shall be as good a wife as a woman can be.”
Reaching down, he took her left hand and placed his fingers on the ring. “May I?”
Swallowing hard, she nodded. He gently pulled off her ring and set it in the palm of his hand. “I could purchase you a new ring, but I know how much love this one represents. I don’t want to take that away from you. I want to add to it. So if you’ve no objections—” He slid the ring back onto her finger. “—with this ring, I thee wed.”
Tears burned her eyes at his unselfishness, his willingness to let her honor what she had once had. “I love you, Edward.”
His mouth came down on hers with such passion, such power, such urgency, that she might have stumbled backward if his arms hadn’t clamped around her at the same time. His tongue slid like velvet over hers, stirring everything she felt in her heart for him until it was whirling through her body. Her limbs went weak, she went weak. Yet she didn’t know if she’d ever felt stronger.
They’d been teasing each other for weeks now. It was only natural that her awareness would be heightened, and yet she felt as though he had struck a match to the kindling of her desires.
Quite suddenly he swept her into his arms and began striding from the room. “I want you on a bed,” he growled low, as though he were providing a message to himself as well as her.
With a laugh, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, buried her face in the curve of his neck and began to press kisses there, tasting the saltiness of his skin. She wanted him with an unyielding fierceness that terrified and excited her. He made her feel alive, no longer numb.
When they arrived at her bedchamber, it was much as it had been before—with clothes being removed in a mad rush, abandoned to the floor. Only it was different. He was a different man, a man she’d never been with completely, and yet she felt none of the awkwardness, none of the doubt that had characterized her wedding night. Perhaps because she was no longer an innocent. Perhaps because she’d been with him as intimately as one could be without being joined.
When he shucked his trousers, she reached out and touched the scar at his hip. He froze. “You didn’t get this in Africa, did you?”
“No. The Orient. Some years back.”
There was still so much to learn about him, but so much that she already knew. Stepping forward, she pressed her body to his, stroked her hands over his broad shoulders down his sinewy arms. How was it that she had believed only four months in Africa would sculpt a man into such perfection? This had taken years of trekking through rugged terrain, climbing mountains, hoisting gear. He was a man who would spend as little time sitting behind a desk as he could. He would take her rowing on the Thames, riding in Hyde Park, galloping over the hills. He would help tenants manage their livestock, their fields. He would nurse a widow and her son back to health.
He would brave cold weather to bring her strawberry tarts.
“I love you, Edward,” she repeated, knowing she would never tire of saying it, could n
ever say it enough.
His eyes slammed closed, his head dropped back. When he opened them, she saw enough love to humble her. He marched her backward until her knees hit the bed. With his mouth latched onto hers, his arms holding her close, he tumbled them back onto the mattress. His roughened hands journeyed over her, eliciting sensations wherever they touched.
He shifted, nestled between her legs. Raised up on his arms, he hovered, looking deeply into her eyes. “Say something naughty.”
The scalding heat of embarrassment rushed through her entire body. “You were never supposed to hear those things.”
“And yet I did and they inflamed me.” He leaned down, took her mouth, released it. “I told you that you never have to pretend with me.”
Christmas Eve. By then he knew her tawdry secret. She turned her head to the side.
“Look at me when you say it. See how much I love it.”
She ran her fingers into his hair, held his head in place, licked her lips. “I want your cock inside me.”
Growling low, feral, he thrust his hips forward, plunging deep, stretching her, filling her. He never took his eyes from hers. “I love how hot and wet you are, the way you close around me.”
Laughing, she pulled him down, opened her mouth to him until their tongues were following the same ancient ritual as their bodies. Being with him was liberating. She felt no need to hold anything back, to keep any secrets. He accepted her wholly. She scraped her fingers up his back. He groaned low, increased the rhythm of his thrusts.
Sensations swirled through her, leaving no part of her untouched, unloved. He was giving her everything of himself, allowing her to do the same. She’d experienced their connection during their kiss in the garden and it had terrified her. Now it only emboldened her.
She could touch him however she wanted, say whatever she wanted. No holding back for fear of censure. No withdrawing for fear of judgment.
With him, she could be herself completely and absolutely.
Was herself completely and absolutely. Was more than herself as the world fell away. She was herself with him, with this man who accepted her openly, naughtiness and all. Who made her his own.
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