“I’m afraid your association with me has only increased your appeal to him.”
She frowned. “That’s ridiculous.”
“I don’t think he’s outgrown his desire to best me from our university days. Do not underestimate him. If you come upon him, walk the other way. I don’t want you to take any risks.”
“I won’t.”
More than ready to change the subject, he asked, “How is your father?”
“Improving each day.” Her smile eased his worry. “My brother surprised us with his arrival.”
“Oh?” He’d nearly forgotten she had one, so rarely was he mentioned. “That must’ve pleased your father.”
“Yes.”
He studied her, wondering at the reason behind the hint of doubt in that one word.
“Jonathan is with Father tonight,” she continued. At his raised brow, she delicately lifted a shoulder. “They have several fundamental differences that make their relationship a bit...strained.”
“Ah.” Oliver realized how lucky he was that he enjoyed both his parents. They would like Julia. The idea of that had him blinking in surprise.
“I’m not certain Jonathan’s time away helped.” Her slight frown was something for which he didn’t care. Her entire body stilled, her hands folded before her—an outward sign of her inner turmoil.
When she offered nothing more, he decided to do what he could to lift her worry. She’d had far too much of that of late. Besides, the ballroom was no place for a serious, lengthy discussion. “May I have the honor of this dance?”
She looked up at him in surprise. Or perhaps shock was a better description. “Dance?”
“You know how, don’t you?” he asked dryly.
“Well, yes, I just assumed you wouldn’t care to.”
Already that crease had disappeared, rewarding his effort. “I would with you.” He held her gaze, wondering if she understood how far he’d go to help her, to protect her, to make her happy. Shoving aside the hitch in his chest, he offered his hand. “Shall we?”
The brightness of her smile devastated him as he tucked her hand under his arm and moved to the dance floor. But his pleasure fell away as his mind went blank. The correct moves of the waltz escaped him even as he took her hand in his and placed his other one on her waist. It had been a long time since he’d attempted to dance.
But Julia didn’t allow him to focus on his feet. Her gaze held his as the music began and everything else fell away. The feel of her lithe form in his arms had his body moving in the correct steps without thinking.
The lights and sounds and people surrounding them faded as he kept his gaze locked on her. She moved with elegant grace and joy, a sight to behold. He tucked the dance into his memory to be guarded closely as they glided and whirled along the floor.
Before he was ready, the music drew to an end.
If someone would’ve told him that he’d be waltzing with a beautiful lady at a crowded ball a month ago, he would’ve called them crazed. Yet here he was with Julia.
One never knew what turn life might take. For the first time in a long while, he looked forward to what the coming days might bring.
Chapter Nineteen
“It is much harder to deal with the boy who, well knowing right from wrong, chooses the latter, than with the boy who from the beginning has been wrong from not knowing what right is.”
~The Seven Curses of London
The next few days passed in a blur as Julia spent most of her time with her father. Each and every day Oliver visited—sometimes only for a few minutes, other times for several hours. He and her father discussed various books, the value of the invention of the horse collar on farming, and even the problems plaguing London as noted in The Seven Curses of London. Those were only the topics she happened to overhear.
Oliver’s visits lifted her father’s spirits as much as Jonathan’s did. And they certainly lifted hers.
Oliver and Jonathan had met several times, and the two men seemed to get along well. Jonathan had been curious about Oliver’s time in the Navy, and they had compared opinions of the countries they’d both visited.
Julia was relieved to see her father’s slow but steady improvement. Earlier this morning he’d roused himself to walk up and down the hall, declaring he needed to do something to regain his strength. She was thrilled with his newfound determination.
But with each of Oliver’s visits, her defenses were eroding, much like the waves of the ocean relentlessly washing at the shore, ebbing and flowing but slowly deteriorating her walls. She had no idea what to do about it.
Their dance at the ball, or perhaps their conversation that evening, had shifted something inside her, changing her feelings toward him, or rather, deepening them. That change frightened her terribly as she realized she was no longer in control of them. Had she ever been?
She’d always enjoyed dancing, but that particular waltz had been the most memorable of her entire life. The swelling of the music, the way he’d watched her, how she’d felt in his arms were all a girlish dream come true. In those few moments that evening, he had been her knight.
How could she possibly protect her heart from its tumble into loving him? Though she blamed the dance, in hindsight, she realized it had started from the moment he’d strode into the bookshop the day she’d first met him.
Fortunately or unfortunately—the way she looked upon it shifted with her mood—they hadn’t had more than a moment to themselves since then. Between her father, her brother, and her aunt, someone was always nearby. It was both maddening and a relief.
Obviously her growing affection for Oliver was making her crazed, she realized even as she paused to listen for his voice at the doorway to her father’s room.
He was reading Chaucer again. Funny how that made her toes curl with desire. His deep, gruff voice had the power to melt her into a puddle let alone when reading aloud the lyrical words.
“Julia, do come in,” her father interrupted. “It’s rude to stand there listening without announcing yourself.”
Her face heating with embarrassment, she opened the door wider. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”
Oliver looked up at her. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was as embarrassed as she was. “I am done with this passage,” he declared as he closed the book and cleared his throat. “I’m certain your father has heard enough for today.”
“Nonsense. I enjoy it,” her father declared.
“Yes, well, I wouldn’t want to overtire you.” Oliver rose. “Time for me to take my leave and allow you to rest.”
Her father scowled with displeasure. “I hardly think sitting here listening is strenuous in any way.”
“All the same, I must be going.” Oliver glanced at her then back at her father but remained where he stood.
“May I see you out?” Julia’s heart leapt at the chance for a few minutes with him. Her brother was gone and her aunt was in her room.
Oliver’s gaze held hers for a long moment. Could he possibly be looking forward to a moment alone as much as she was? “How kind of you,” he said at last.
“I’ll return directly, Father.”
“Very well,” he said even as he eased farther back into the pillows, his eyes sliding shut.
Oliver held the door for her and she stepped out, appreciating how quietly he closed it behind him. Before she’d taken more than a step, she felt his hand on her arm then he drew her into his embrace, kissing her as though desperate to do so.
All the longing she’d felt earlier poured forth. She reached up and wrapped her arms around him, only wanting to be closer. With each breath she took, she drank in his presence.
What was she to do when he felt so right? When everything about him seemed so perfect? Her aunt’s words rang through her mind, Only by exploring do we know what is possible.
Even as she sank into his kiss, he drew back, leaving her bereft at the far too brief contact.
It took a moment for Julia to hea
r what Oliver obviously had—voices in the foyer below. Her brother had returned.
With a sigh, Julia rested her forehead against Oliver’s shoulder. The interruption was for the best, she reminded herself. She had no business sharing such moments with him when she would never be able to take it further. Of course, he’d never suggested such a thing.
She stilled at the realization and drew back to look into his eyes. “Oliver?”
Her brother’s voice drew nearer as he came up the stairs, preventing her from saying anything more. Then again, what could she possibly ask?
~*~
Oliver rubbed his eyes then attempted to focus once more on the notes before him. The fire burned cheerfully, chasing away the chill of the library. Two days had passed, and he’d managed to keep his distance from the Hopwood’s. Now that Lord Burnham was feeling better, Oliver’s presence wasn’t needed. He’d decided it would be far better for him to stay away from Julia. Better for him. Better for her.
Unfortunately, it had yet to feel better.
He’d begun to question why he should remain home when he wanted so much to see her again. Though he acknowledged he wanted her in his life, he hadn’t yet determined what that meant. He couldn’t indulge in an affair with her. She deserved far more than that. But doubt welled up from deep inside if he considered anything further. In truth, she deserved more than him. What did all that mean for their relationship? Their future, if they had one?
Time. He needed time to weigh the options and his feelings. And distance for clarity. Surely both of those would help him make a rational decision.
Yet he was quickly realizing there was nothing rational about his feelings for Julia.
He’d kept as busy as possible to occupy his thoughts. The nights caused the most difficulty. When his guard was down, Julia’s image came to him, moving with him, over him, under him, until his body pulsed with desire.
Even now, after spending hours sifting through weighty fifteenth-century folios, he ached for her. He imagined what he might be tempted to do if he had a moment alone with her.
No, it was much better if he kept his distance.
Perhaps his imagination was getting the better of him and he’d exaggerated how she made him feel when they were together. Yet the words rang hollow in his mind.
He tapped his pen on the notes before him, trying once again to focus. He’d managed to find several more references to The Book of Secrets. Some claimed a student of Albert Magnus had compiled the book, using his teacher’s name to gain more interest in the text.
Yet none of what he’d learned could be used to reduce or eliminate Smithby’s power. The newspaper report had surely discredited him but he hadn’t taken any brash action to compensate for it. Hawke and Langston had found another man to assist in watching the warehouses. But thus far, it hadn’t helped.
Voices in the foyer had him guessing that Hawke was paying a visit. He continued reviewing his notes, wanting them to be fresh in his mind when he shared them with him. Perhaps his friend would have some new take on the data he’d gathered.
An odd tingle of awareness coursed through him, causing him to glance up to find Julia walking into his library.
The breath left his lungs in a whoosh and he blinked, wondering if he was hallucinating after so many hours of wishing she was near.
“I told Tubbs he needn’t announce me. I hope that’s acceptable.” She raised a brow at his continued silence, her steps slowing. “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting.”
Oliver heard the distinct sound of the library door latching behind her. What was Tubbs thinking? She would not be staying for long.
“Nothing of the sort,” he said as he rose. Despite his attempts to convince himself that he’d exaggerated her affect on him, she proved him wrong.
Damn.
Her pale pink gown cast a lovely glow to her complexion and lit her blue eyes. The intricate hat was a shade deeper than her gown and sat at an angle that drew his gaze to the delicate curve of her jaw. The very sight of her lifted something inside him.
He’d managed to stay away, but she’d circumvented his plan by coming to see him. The desire he’d experienced during his last visit to her home swelled two-fold, dashing the little restraint he had. His only hope was to make certain she remained on the opposite side of his desk. That distance was vital to him being able to keep his hands to himself.
“To what do I owe the honor of this visit?” he asked even as his gaze drank in her presence.
She came around the side of his desk, already scattering his plan along with his thoughts. “I came by to thank you.”
“For what?”
“Your frequent visits have meant the world to my father. They significantly aided his recovery.”
Worry slid through him. Surely the old lord hadn’t taken a turn for the worse. “Is his recovery continuing?”
“Each day brings improvement. Much of the credit for that goes to you.” Her smile tangled something inside him. She tilted her head, revealing the tempting line of her neck.
He shook his head to respond to her statement as well as to clear his wayward thoughts. “I hardly think my brief visits helped that much.”
“They truly did.” She trailed a gloved hand along the shiny surface of his desk as she leaned against it. “Each time he’s ill it takes longer for him to improve. Though that was true this time as well, he recovered quicker than even the doctor expected.”
He watched that hand move slowly along his desk, drawing little circles with one finger. It was one of the most exotic sights he’d ever seen. All he could think about was that finger trailing along him in the same way, gloves and all.
With a deep breath, he tried to clear his mind and focus on the conversation. “My apologies for not calling upon him these past two days. I’ve been busy with some research.” He gestured toward his notes.
“Is it a new project?” She shifted her head to look at the papers on his desk, drawing his attention to the length of her neck. All he could think of was how much he wanted to nibble on it.
The woman was driving him mad without even trying.
“I’ve discovered a few more references to The Book of Secrets that may prove helpful.”
“I have asked Father time and again if he’ll give you the other book until he feels up to working on it again, but he refuses to. I can only think that he fears if he does, you won’t need him and therefore won’t return to visit him.”
“Please assure him that is not the case. He need have no worries on that score.” How was he to maintain some distance from Julia if he wanted to continue the research with Lord Burnham?
Yet he couldn’t regret Julia purchasing that book instead of him. He wouldn’t have met her otherwise.
“I’ll let him know.” She took a step closer, her gaze holding his. “Is there a day I might tell him to expect you?”
His defenses took another blow. “Is tomorrow acceptable?”
“Of course. Whenever is convenient for you.”
“What of your brother?” Oliver had spoken with him on several occasions. He’d been pleasant enough but Oliver sensed an underlying restlessness in him that he recognized all too well.
“What do you mean?”
“Perhaps your brother would prefer to spend time with your father rather than me.”
“Not at all. Jonathan is quite relieved to know your visits give Father a lift.”
“Good.” He nodded, searching for a topic that might keep him from drawing her into his arms. She was close enough now that he caught her sweet lilac scent, and it wasn’t helping quell his desire at all. “Does your aunt know you called on me?”
“She thinks I’m out shopping. My carriage is waiting down the street.”
“Ah.” At least she was thinking of her reputation.
She took another step toward him, that blue gaze continuing to hold his. “I’ve missed you.”
Unable to resist her when she was so close, he risked running a
gentle finger along her cheek, realizing at once he’d made a mistake. “I’ve missed you as well.”
When she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, the fragile hold he had on his self-control slipped away, unleashing the desire he’d had for this beautiful woman for so long.
Did she truly know how much she risked by coming here alone?
Or worse—perhaps she knew exactly the peril she faced.
He leaned down to kiss her, his hunger for her outweighing his argument with himself. Her heated response only increased his need for her. She slipped her tongue inside his mouth, nearly buckling his knees. He met her tongue with his as his body hardened with desire. He wanted to pull her against him, to feel her bare skin against his.
“Julia,” he muttered instead. “You should go.”
“Why?”
She was killing him. “Because otherwise I’m going to...” What? Take her on his desk? She was a lady. What was wrong with him? She deserved far more than that. Yet what more could he offer?
“Because you deserve someone better than me.” He forced out the words, certain she hadn’t thought this through.
“No.” She reached up to lay her hands on either side of his face, her blue eyes shining with passion. “I deserve you. And you are the only one I want. This moment is all that matters. Not yesterday and not tomorrow. Now.” She sealed her words with another kiss, and he was lost.
He wrapped her in his embrace, loving the feel of her against him as he kissed her deeply. She was so perfect. She fit against him so beautifully. Soon that embrace wasn’t enough. He ran his hands along her curves, caressing and kneading as he went. Her body swayed against him as he touched her, mimicking the rhythm that was never far from his mind.
Her fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck and sent need pulsing along his body. Her tongue continued to move with his but soon it wasn’t enough.
He drew back to look at her, wondering if she realized where this might lead. In the far corner of his mind, he thought that by being bold, he might frighten her and send her scurrying home. Watching closely to see when fear finally set in, he reached up to pluck the hat pin from the clever adornment then tossed both the hat and the pin on his desk, covering his notes.
Charming the Scholar (The Seven Curses of London Book 2) Page 21