An Independent Woman

by Candace Camp

  Crandall’s face contorted, and he jumped to his feet, knocking his chair over with a crash. “Damn you! You should have died!”

  He turned and slammed out of the room.

  CHAPTER NINE

  EVERYONE SAT FROZEN in their chairs, staring at Nicholas. Finally Sir Herbert cleared his throat, saying, “Really. Bad form, that.”

  Juliana ducked her head to hide a smile at the man’s vast understatement. She glanced over at Nicholas and saw mirrored in his face the same appreciation of Sir Herbert’s comment.

  “I fear Crandall was somewhat the worse for drink,” Nicholas replied, matching Sir Herbert’s imperturbability.

  One of the footmen hurried to set Crandall’s overturned chair upright again, and they all turned their attention once more to their plates.

  Conversation after that was stilted and sporadic. Two bright red spots burned on Winifred’s cheeks, and Lilith’s face was frozen into an expression of polite blankness. Sir Herbert commented with great frequency on the excellence of the food.

  “You must tell us all the on-dits from London, Juliana,” Seraphina told her brightly. “We have spent most of the Season here, and I have quite missed out on everything.”

  “I fear I don’t know any gossip,” Juliana replied. She wished very much that she did, just to carry them through this awkward meal. “I did not really move in the ton the last few years.”

  Seraphina, as it turned out, knew enough gossip for both of them. “Do you remember Anne Blaisebury? We went to school with her at Miss Blanton’s,” she began, and proceeded to chatter about the lives and fortunes of all the girls who had attended school with them.

  Juliana had frankly forgotten most of them, but she was glad enough to let Seraphina talk about them to cover the uncomfortable silence. She only half listened, however, for her mind was busy going over the words that Nicholas and Crandall had exchanged.

  Not surprisingly, there was no move to linger after the dinner was over, or to extend the evening by gathering in the drawing room afterward.

  Nicholas turned to Juliana as the others scattered from the dining room, saying, “Allow me to escort you to your room.”

  “I want to talk to you,” Juliana told him flatly, her tone brooking no dissent.

  “All right. Well…” He cast a glance around. “As I have an aversion to Uncle Trenton’s study…” He gestured toward the room in which they had gathered before the meal. “Why don’t we go back in here?”

  Juliana nodded, and they walked next door to the small room, shutting the door behind them. Juliana dropped down into a chair with a sigh.

  “That was ghastly.”

  “Yes. Crandall at his worst.” Nicholas shrugged. “I’d almost forgotten how despicable he is.” He strolled over to the liquor cabinet. “I think that after that performance, I need a drink…although I must say, seeing Crandall like that is enough to put one off alcohol altogether.”

  “He’s a boor even when he has not been drinking.”

  “May I get you a sherry? Or perhaps something stronger would be in order.”

  Juliana shook her head. Nicholas poured himself a whiskey and came back to sit down in the chair closest to hers. He took a sip and sighed.

  “I would say that at least the evening cannot get any worse, but I suspect that Crandall’s capacity for trouble is greater than I can imagine,” Nicholas remarked dryly. “I hope you did not allow him to upset you.”

  “I am used to Crandall,” Juliana told him. “I expect rudeness from him, and I have never been disappointed. I must say, though, that he seems worse than ever.”

  Nicholas nodded. “No one at the table liked him. Did you notice? His sister kept glaring at him. His wife was obviously humiliated by his behavior and scared of him. Even Aunt Lilith seemed disgusted.”

  Juliana nodded. “He’s a difficult man to like.”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do about him,” Nicholas mused. “I will seem heartless if I turn him out of the only home he’s ever known. And his wife will suffer, though she is not to blame for his actions. But I refuse to allow him to continue to disrupt everything.”

  “What did he mean, Nicholas?” Juliana asked.

  “About what?”

  “You know very well,” she replied. “What you two were talking about—how you should have been dead, and damn your good luck, except it wasn’t luck but your reflexes?”

  Nicholas studied his drink for a moment, idly swirling the whiskey around in the glass. Then he sighed and raised his head to look her in the eyes. “I didn’t just decide to run away when I was sixteen. I did so because Uncle Trenton had tried to kill me.”

  Juliana stared at him. She had suspected something of the sort from what had been said, but still the words shocked her. “How? What happened? Are you sure he tried to murder you?”

  “It was unmistakable. It happened on the stairs. He shoved me, and I tumbled forward. Fortunately, I was quick enough to grab the rail and managed to do nothing more than get a few bruises and some strained muscles. But we were standing at the top, with the marble of the entry below. I could easily have broken my neck. Afterwards he tried to pretend that I had merely stumbled. But I know I felt a hand on my back, pushing me forward. There was no mistaking it. And I knew if I stayed here, I would never live long enough to inherit.” He shrugged. “So I ran.”

  “Oh, Nicholas! How awful.” Impulsively, Juliana reached out and placed her hand over his. His skin was warm beneath hers, and she was suddenly very aware of the feel of it beneath her fingers. Her heart picked up its beat, and she pulled her hand away, clasping it with her other and letting them lie in her lap. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? Why didn’t you say anything?”

  Nicholas shrugged. “Who would have believed me? I was the one everyone considered wicked. My uncle was the most important man in the area, a fine upstanding citizen. Who would have believed his wild, wayward nephew? It was my word against his. We were the only ones there, besides Crandall—and I knew he would swear that his father had done nothing to me. How could I prove that he had shoved me?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Juliana asked, a little surprised by the hurt she experienced over the fact that he had not. “Did you not trust me?”

  “Of course I did. But what purpose would it have served to tell you? You were only a child, and you had to continue to live there. I could not put that burden on you. As long as you didn’t know, you would be all right. Uncle Trenton would have no reason to harm you. Indeed, I presumed that your treatment would be better once I left, since you were usually in trouble only because you tried to help me. But if you knew what had happened, it was all too likely that you would have been brave, as always, and have spoken up. Then he might have felt he would have to shut you up. I could not do that.”

  Emotion welled up inside Juliana. She thought of the young man he had been—barely more than a boy, really—having to bear that burden all alone. It must have been horrible to know that his own flesh and blood had tried to murder him, and even worse to be unable to tell his only friend for fear of endangering her, as well.

  “Nicholas…I am so sorry.” Juliana looked up at him, tears glistening in her eyes. She rose, her hands going out to him.

  “Juliana…” Suddenly she was in his arms, his warmth all around her, and his lips were on hers.

  Her arms went around his neck, and she clung to him. All her senses were abruptly, wildly, alive. His lips were hot, insistent, demanding her response. Juliana quivered, not sure what she wanted but certain of the need.

  Nicholas’s hands moved down her back, sweeping over her hips, then back up her side, coming to rest at last on the curves of her breasts. Her nipples tightened at his touch, her breasts swelling with desire. Juliana had never felt anything like this, indeed, had not even known such sensations existed. Unconsciously, her hands slipped upwards, gliding into his hair. The strands separated, sliding silkily around her fingers. She shivered, lost in his kiss.

>   His mouth left hers, and he kissed his way down her throat. Juliana let her head fall back, giving him access to the tender flesh. His breath was hot on her skin, his lips like velvet as they moved down onto the expanse of chest exposed by the low neckline of her gown. His lips reached the soft swell of her breast, and Juliana gasped at the touch, heat flowering deep in her abdomen.

  Nicholas’s hand curved gently around her breast, his thumb softly tracing the shape of the nipple. That small bud of flesh tightened, even as a pulse came to life between her legs. Juliana’s breath rasped raggedly in her throat.

  He breathed her name as his mouth moved over the supremely soft flesh of her breast. His tongue traced tiny patterns of desire over her skin, igniting a fierce hunger within her.

  The neckline of her dress impeded his roving mouth, and Nicholas raised his head. Juliana let out a small moan of protest. But then he slipped his hand inside her dress, startling her, and cupped her breast, lifting it up and out of the dress.

  He bent his head again, and this time his lips came down upon the nipple itself, sending a wave of heat through Juliana. He teased the small button of flesh with his tongue, first caressing, then whipping it into hardness. She choked back a sob of hunger, wanting more. His mouth closed over her nipple, pulling on it with strong, slow pulses, and passion slammed through her. Juliana moved helplessly, hungrily, thrumming with the force of her need.

  Her skin was on fire, aching for his touch, and the tender ache between her legs swelled. Nicholas made a noise deep in his throat, and his hands went to her hips, digging in, pressing her against him so that she felt the hard length of his own desire against her abdomen.

  Juliana let out a small sound of surprise, as much at her own body’s leap of hunger as at the gesture itself. Nicholas raised his head, the sound penetrating the haze of his passion. He gazed down into her face for one stunned instant before he registered what he was doing and where.

  He bit out an oath beneath his breath and released her, stepping back and turning away. Juliana stared at his back blankly, still dazed by the desire pulsing through her.

  “Nicholas?” Her voice was soft and questioning.

  It sliced through him like a knife. Juliana, the one person for whom he truly cared, had reached out to him in sympathy, and he—he had reacted like an animal, he thought savagely. Despite all his assurances, his promises, he had let himself be swept away by raw need. In another few minutes, he knew, he would have been lost to all reason, ready to pull her right down on the floor with him and take her.

  “I am sorry,” he said gruffly, not looking at her. “I should not have—this will not happen again. I swear it.”

  A shiver, not of desire this time, but of cold, shook her. Juliana came back to earth with a thud. Nicholas did not want her. He regretted kissing her. She felt suddenly naked and ashamed. Her face flamed with red to her hairline, and she hastily adjusted her dress, covering her exposed breast, smoothing and straightening her dress. She hated to consider what he would think about her now.

  “No. Pray, do not apologize,” she replied stiffly, also turning away from him. “It was a—a momentary aberration. That is all.”

  She felt the treacherous burn of tears in her throat, and she swallowed hard. He had offered her one sort of marriage; she was not going to cry because it was not something else.

  “It is forgotten,” she went on quickly. “Good night, Nicholas.”

  She turned and hurried from the room.

  It was a relief to find that her maid was not waiting for her when she reached her room. The last thing Juliana wanted was to have to put up a front for anyone just now.

  She walked agitatedly over to the window and stood, looking out at the dark garden below her. She thought about the girlish dreams she had had as an adolescent. The sweet picture she had painted then was far different from reality. It had not involved desire that flamed up at Nicholas’s touch or glance. There had been no kisses that pierced her to the heart, no caresses that left her panting and shaken, no fire roaring through her blood.

  She put her hand on her chest, as though she could contain the thundering emotions that swirled there. The passion she had felt tonight had been so fierce, so elemental—and she knew that she far preferred it to the sweet, rather colorless love which she had imagined as a girl. It would be easy to succumb to her feelings, to fall into his bed like a wanton. It would be easier still to fall in love with him.

  But she knew it would be mad for her to do so. Nicholas did not believe in love. Though she was convinced he was a far more emotional person, a kinder one, than he would ever let himself believe, she also knew how guarded he was, how separated from those emotions. She feared that Nicholas would never allow himself to really fall in love. He permitted affection such as he felt for her. He allowed a general kindness to temper his actions. But he kept his heart locked away, safe from the pain and loneliness he had endured as a child.

  That much was clear from the kind of marriage he wanted. He had not fallen in love, had not given his heart to a woman. No, he had sought out a wife with whom he could be friends, a woman he thought of as a friend, a woman to whom he had no fears of losing his heart. He had offered to marry her out of kindness, of course, but Juliana was also sure that it was to protect himself, as well. He did not want love; he would not allow himself to love.

  If she were to fall in love with him, it would be one-sided and would always remain so. Nicholas would never feel any more for her than affection, and she would be guaranteeing herself the pain of unrequited love.

  Oh, he had felt passion, she knew. There had been no mistaking the fire that burned in him when he kissed her and caressed her. But he had not wanted to feel that passion. He had turned from her, reminding them both that desire was not intended to be a part of their marriage.

  It was better by far, she knew, not to allow herself to be swept away again. It was better to accept the loveless marriage he had offered than to try to turn it into anything else. She had to put a guard on her own heart, as well. She must avoid similar situations with Nicholas. They could have a close, friendly marriage, a bond of affection, even love of a sort. But she could not allow it to turn into anything else. She could not let herself desire him, could not let that desire turn into passionate, romantic love.

  Juliana turned away from the window. She felt achingly empty. She could not help but wonder if she had played the fool when she agreed to marry Nicholas Barre.

  THINGS ALWAYS SEEMED better in the morning, Juliana thought, and the next day was no exception. When the maid pulled back the draperies to let the sun in, Juliana’s spirits unaccountably lifted, and she smiled as she drank her morning tea and dressed, then hummed to herself as she went downstairs to breakfast.

  Lilith and Nicholas were already seated at the table, eating their meal in silence, when Juliana walked in. When she saw Nicholas, she could not help but think of what had transpired between them the night before, and heat blossomed deep in her loins, just as it had then. She looked away, embarrassed at the memory and annoyed with herself for her seeming inability to control her desires around him.

  Nicholas looked up and saw her, and immediately his face was stamped with a look of such relief that she could not help but forget her embarrassment in amusement. Obviously he had found it very uncomfortable being alone with his aunt.

  “Good morning, my dear.” Nicholas came around to take her hand and kiss it before he escorted her to her chair. A footman jumped to pull out the chair for her.

  Juliana greeted Lilith, and the older woman nodded to her. It was the cool sort of greeting that Juliana expected from her mother’s cousin. Juliana could not remember a time when Lilith had seemed pleased to see anyone—except, of course, for her horses. She had always been all smiles when she went out to ride. Juliana had often wondered how a woman could be so cold to people and so loving of animals.

  “Am I the last again?” a voice trilled gaily, and Juliana turned to see Seraphina sweep
ing into the room.

  Again there was a round of greetings. At least Lilith did manage to say hello to her daughter, though she did not unbend enough to offer her a smile.

  “Sir Herbert and Crandall are not here,” Nicholas pointed out.

  “Oh, Sir Herbert never eats breakfast,” Seraphina informed them. “He is something of a slugabed, I’m afraid. Even here in the country, where there is nothing to keep one up late. He likes to sit and read ’til all hours.”

  Her last words were spoken in a tone of wonderment that made Juliana smother a smile. She was sure Seraphina found such behavior decidedly bizarre. She could not remember ever seeing the woman open a book voluntarily.

  Juliana noticed that Seraphina did not say anything about her brother. She suspected that, given the amount that Crandall had imbibed last night, he was nursing a severe headache this morning, and she doubted they would be cursed with his presence at breakfast. She wondered if heavy drinking were a nightly occurrence with him or a unique event brought about by Nicholas’s arrival.

  Juliana and Seraphina served themselves from the informal array of dishes on the sideboard, with Seraphina chattering all the while about the quantity of the food.

  “If I ate all the time the way I do here in the country,” she confided, “I fear I would be the size of a house.”

  “It is quite an array.”

  “I never have more than toast and tea in the morning in the City.” Seraphina sighed. “But there is little to do here except eat, really.”

  “You could join me on my morning ride,” her mother pointed out. “I have already been out. There’s nothing like it for setting up one’s day.”

  Seraphina gave an elaborate shudder. “I have no desire to go throwing myself over fences at the crack of dawn.”

  “Scarcely dawn,” Lilith pointed out. “As it is already past nine.”

  “I would be in bed another two hours if I were home,” her daughter retorted, sitting down and digging into her food.