A brisk walk in the biting cold would do her the world of good, or so she’d thought.
It seemed less so now, since she could no longer feel her toes.
Rather than walk any longer, Julia decided to head back to the house for a long, hot bath. She knew the dowager would not want her until dinner, having called by the bedchamber on her way out. The dowager was resting and would soon be preparing for this evening, her lady’s maid had informed Julia, and she wasn’t to be disturbed.
The crunch of gravel behind her made Julia start, and she whipped round to see who was approaching.
Her heart stopped for a moment then galloped furiously.
Putting Lord Ranford out of her head would be a lot easier if he wasn’t striding toward her.
“Miss Channing.” He stopped in front of her, and Julia once again got the odd sensation that he was seeing right into her soul. “You did not wish to rest?”
Polite chatter. Julia could manage polite chatter.
“No,” she squeaked.
All right. Julia used to be able to manage polite chatter.
“So, you decided to take a walk?”
“Er — yes, my lord.”
There was a pause while Charles stared intently at Julia, and Julia was suddenly fascinated by the stones underfoot.
“Is there a reason for your refusing to speak to me, Miss Channing?”
Julia’s eyes snapped to the wintry blue of his.
“I am not refusing to speak to you, my lord. I am speaking right now, am I not?”
“Hmm. I suppose you are. But I think it would be more enjoyable were I not dragging the words from you.”
Julia’s temper rose slightly. She felt that he was deliberately antagonising her, but she could not understand why. She must not lose her temper though; she had let her mouth run away with her earlier at their meeting and had delivered quite the set down. She was staying in the man’s house, for heaven’s sake. She must behave herself.
“If you find my conversation so vexing, my lord, I rather wonder at you continuing to talk to me.”
Or not.
“Ah, there it is.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“As I explained earlier, I was hunting out that fire. It has been a while since I last saw you, Miss Channing. For reasons unbeknownst to me, you seem to have decided to bury your personality under a mountain of brown wool. But you cannot disguise your beauty, you know. So I know that has not changed, except that you seem to have grown even more beautiful since I saw you last. I was just making sure that sharp tongue was still in existence.”
Julia had no idea what to say, so she just stood there gaping like a dolt, trying desperately not to notice the way his eyes had strayed to her mouth and stayed there.
“I’m sure I do not know what you mean, my lord.”
“Is the ‘my lord’ really necessary, Miss Channing?”
“Yes. My lord,” she answered mischievously.
His mouth tilted in a wicked grin, and Julia was shocked to feel a sharp twist of desire in her abdomen. This would not do.
“Well, if you will excuse me, my lord, I must get back to the dowager.”
With a brief curtsy, Julia turned and fled. She was tempted to look back but kept going.
Giving into any sort of temptation where the earl was concerned was asking for trouble.
“REALLY, JEFFERSON, I THINK you’ve wrestled it into submission,” Charles grumbled as his perfectionistic valet damn near choked him trying to tie his cravat.
A short bow was all the reply he received before Jefferson carried on regardless.
Charles, for all his complaining, knew better than to move, so he just stood still and huffed and puffed until Jefferson decided that he had done all he could.
“You know,” Charles warned him. “If the countess rings a peal over my head for being late, I shall tell her the blame is all yours.”
“Your jacket, my lord” was Jefferson’s only response. The man was spectacularly unconcerned about the possibility of the countess’s wrath.
Jefferson was never insolent, nor did he give the impression that he cared to be in his employers’ good graces either, and rather than Charles’s dire warning urging him on, the man actually slowed down and went at a snail’s pace.
Finally, he deemed Charles fit for public viewing and helpfully, if a little insolently, held the door open for Charles to depart.
As soon as he was out the door, Charles started to pull the cravat loose. He’d never liked the blasted things, and if Jefferson had his way, Charles would be permanently blue.
So concerned was he by undoing the strangle hold the cravat had on his neck, he did not watch where he was going and found himself slamming into something, or someone, with enough force to send her flying backwards.
Charles instinctively reached out and grabbed. Looking down into sparkling emerald eyes, he realised that he was holding on to Julia. And suddenly, he found it almost impossible to let go.
JULIA WAS LATE. LATE! On her first evening in Ranford Hall. She did not want to embarrass the dowager or offer any slight to the countess. It was all Lord Ranford’s fault. If she hadn’t been sitting about daydreaming about him, she would have been ready on time.
As it was, if she hurried, she might not be noticeably late.
Julia was just turning toward the stairs when she collided with something huge and hard. She staggered back only to be steadied in the next instance by two strong arms gripping her by the shoulders.
Julia looked up, and her eyes collided with Lord Ranford’s.
Her skin felt as though it were on fire from his touch. And suddenly it felt hard to breathe.
“Miss Channing, I apologise. I did not see you. Are you well?”
His voice was low and husky, making Julia think all manner of wicked things. She wondered how that voice would sound whispering in her ear, his breath tickling her sensitive skin.
“Miss Channing?”
With a blush, Julia pulled her thoughts back from such a dangerous place.
“Oh, yes, my lord. Quite well. I did not see you either.”
“You were on your way to dinner?”
His hands were still gripping her shoulders. Julia knew she should step away. But she stayed.
“Yes, late, I’m afraid.”
“As am I. Jefferson, I fear, is more concerned with appearance than punctuality. I was trying to undo his damage when I bumped into you.”
“His damage?”
“Yes.” He stepped back and lifted a hand to his cravat.
Julia resisted the urge to step closer once again.
“The man seems to want to kill me by choking me with my own cravat. I vow, it is getting tighter by the day.”
Julia could not help but smile at his petulant tone.
“But it looks very well, my lord,” she said.
“Well then, at least I’ll look good at my funeral,” he quipped.
Julia laughed and shook her head.
“Really, my lord. You exaggerate. It cannot be that bad.”
“I tell you, he’s trying to kill me,” Charles wailed, and she laughed once again.
“Well, I pray you do not die right now, my lord. I’m late enough as it is.”
“Your concern is touching,” he answered ruefully before holding out his arm to escort her. “Shall we?”
Julia tried to brace herself for the impact of his touch as she took his proffered arm and started down the staircase.
She did not feel as nervous this evening as she had earlier and, though they were silent, the silence did not feel as strained as it had before.
“You must be looking forward to having your sisters home, my lord” Julia said.
Charles stopped and turned Julia gently to face him.
“Please, Miss Channing. Stop the ‘my lord’ business. It makes me deuced uncomfortable.”
“But m—”
At his stern look, Julia swiftly swallowed the address.
“It is only proper.”
“Is it? We can surely move past that. I know you will drop into a dead faint if I ask you to call me Charles, but couldn’t you at least call me Ranford?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“We are practically strangers. We do not know each other well enough for a more casual address. And you are a Peer.”
“I am aware of that, thank you. And surely given that a year has passed since our first meeting, we can claim to know each other at least a little?”
“But we have not met or spoken above a handful of times, my— er—”
Julia stumbled to an uncomfortable halt.
Calling him my lord was as much habit as propriety. Calling him by his name suggested an intimacy that simply did not exist, no matter how much she wished it did.
“All right,” he said now, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “if we knew each other better, you would call me by my name?”
“Your last name,” she qualified. “But yes. Perhaps.”
“Well, that’s easily fixed.”
“Of course, I am to stay here for the rest of the winter, after all. I am sure that, by the end of my stay, we will be on sufficiently good terms.”
“Oh, I do not plan to wait that long, Miss Channing.”
“Well then, how are we to get to know each other?” she asked.
Charles suddenly grinned, and the beauty of it made her gasp aloud. There was a world of danger and promise in that smile.
Leaning forward, he reached out and pulled her once more into his arms.
“Like this,” he replied before her mouth was crushed under his.
CHAPTER FOUR
FOR A FLEETING SECOND, Julia felt complete shock at his actions, before pure sensation took over.
Her arms, of their own volition, coiled round his neck, pulling her body tighter against his own.
At her actions, Charles growled deep in his throat, pulling her closer still and thrilling Julia to the core.
Logic and rationale had fled, and all that was left was glorious feeling and sharp, twisting desire.
Never had she experienced such madness, never had she felt so wanton, and never before had she wanted something to go on forever as she did right then.
His hands roamed her back and moved to press her against the evidence of his need, making her gasp in surprise and pleasure. And he wasted no time taking advantage. His tongue plundered her mouth, dancing with her own.
Julia could not supress a moan at this new assault on her senses. Dear Lord, had anything ever felt so good?
Just as Julia’s legs were beginning to buckle, Charles broke their kiss, pulling his mouth from hers and muttering an oath.
He pushed her gently from him and then stepped back, putting some much needed distance between them.
At the back of her mind, Julia knew that she should be horrified by her actions and his. That she would be horrified when the shock wore off. But right now, she could think of nothing but him; his arms like steel wrapped round her trembling body, his lips awakening feelings inside her that she never knew existed. And his eyes, like the hottest part of a flame, scorched her as they bored into hers.
For a moment they stared at each other in complete silence.
Julia was struggling to control the racing of her heart and to catch her breath. It looked like he struggled as much as she.
The silence stretched on, and Julia’s conscience, which had been trying desperately to make itself heard, became alarmingly loud. But before she could give way to her panicked instincts and feelings of shame, Charles’s expression changed once more to one of faint amusement and derision that she had often seem him wear, as though he had donned a mask.
“Well,” he said, stepping forward and offering his arm once more. His eyebrow quirked slightly; his mouth twisted in a faint smile. “I think we can safely say we know each other better now, Miss Channing.”
Julia’s cheeks flamed at his mocking tone. Clearly he had been as unaffected by their kiss as she had been affected.
“Now, we agreed on my last name. But I wonder, have I perhaps convinced you to call me Charles?”
Julia tried her best not to be charmed by him. She tried not to be taken in by his cajoling tone and boyish grin, but it was impossible. The man was irresistible, drat him.
Still, in order to maintain any sort of control over her feelings, she must hold firm.
“No, indeed. We made an agreement, and we shall stick to it,” she quipped, feeling rather proud that she could joke and appear normal when inside she was in absolute turmoil.
“Very well,” he said with a dramatic sigh. Then, a wicked gleam once more lighting the stunning blue of his eyes, he leaned closer to her and whispered, “Perhaps I should keep trying to know you better.”
Julia’s heart stuttered at his words, her breath leaving her in a whoosh. But before she could answer, he swept her into the room where the other ladies were waiting.
Julia felt a sharp relief and moved to sit with the dowager. She needed some distance from the man. She needed to figure out how she was to survive the next few weeks when, apparently, she could not keep her hands off him.
ALL THROUGH DINNER, HE watched her. He tried not to, but she was so very, very watchable. He was fascinated by the pale smoothness of her skin… intrigued by the lush curve of her mouth... captivated by the sparkling intelligence in her eyes. She was bewitching, and she truly had him under her spell.
Shaking his head a little to clear it of such ridiculous notions, Charles signalled for more wine.
He had no idea what had possessed him to kiss her. But she was being so endearingly proper, and he’d had an insatiable thirst to corrupt her. Usually seducing innocents wasn’t his bent at all. They were too needy, too complicated, and though he’d had his fair share of slaps from irate women, he wasn’t a complete cad. He had no desire to ruin a girl completely.
And, in truth, Charles had only meant to give her a brief kiss, to shock some of that sensibleness out of her.
But he hadn’t been prepared for her instantaneous reaction. She was more responsive, more incredibly sensual than he had bargained for. He had known that there was an attraction between them. But he had not known that one touch of his lips to hers would light a fire that raged immediately through his body.
And he sure as hell hadn’t been prepared for his reaction to holding her in his arms.
It had taken strength Charles didn’t know he possessed to push her from him, to pull his lips from hers. And, of course, that had nearly been his undoing all over again. She wore the evidence of their kiss in the spark of lust in her eyes, the look of shocked desire on her beautiful face.
She had looked thoroughly kissed and far too appealing.
So, Charles did what came naturally. He charmed and made light and covered his real feelings under a veneer of nonchalance.
And now, here he sat, at the head of the colossal dining table, listening to his mother and the dowager rabbit on about God-only-knew who and watching Julia refuse to meet his eye.
His body stirred every time she ate or drank something. And since they were at bloody dinner, it was doing a whole lot of stirring.
Charles knew he should apologise. He should be sorry that he’d taken advantage of a single young lady under his roof and, therefore, under his protection.
Yes, he should be sorry. But he wasn’t.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE DAY DAWNED BRIGHT and clear, and Julia could not help but feel a rush of excitement as she pulled back the heavy drapes and gazed at the view before her.
Her room was situated to the east and afforded her a stunning view of the lake and further along, the woodlands of the estate.
The grass glistened in the winter light, every blade sparkling with morning frost.
It was peaceful and serene, and Julia should have felt just as peaceful looking at it. Instead, she felt as though she had swallowed a swarm of butterflies, her sto
mach danced so.
She had barely managed to sleep last night. Her mind had been filled with thoughts of Ranford, her dreams with his kisses.
The kiss should never have happened. She knew that. And she had done her level best to avoid all contact with him afterwards, refusing to even look at him unless she was sure he was not looking at her.
But that did not stop her thinking about him.
Julia was so conscious of his every move, his every breath, that she had not been able to breathe properly until the ladies retired to the drawing room, leaving him to his port and cheroot.
Her mind had been so full of questions, recriminations and, to her shame, desire, that she could barely follow the thread of conversation and quickly made her excuses to the ladies before retiring.
Sleep, however, had not come. Much as she tried to put that kiss from her head, much as she tried not to see his devilishly handsome face in her mind’s eye, the task had been impossible.
Finally, in the early hours of the morning, just before dawn, Julia had fallen into a fitful sleep and even then her dreams had been full of him.
A light tap on the door brought her out of her daydream. She turned as a young girl entered the room.
“Pardon me, miss,” the maid said, her Irish brogue giving her words a pleasant lilt. “Her ladyship sent me to see if you needed any assistance.”
Julia blinked in surprise.
Back in England, she had managed to convince the dowager that having her own abigail was the outside of enough. The dowager had conceded but then sent one of the downstairs maids to help her every day, essentially giving her abigail anyway!
Julia had not expected the same thing to happen here.
“I thank you, no,” she said now as pleasantly as she could. “I am sure I can manage perfectly well.”
The young girl looked confused but bowed and exited nonetheless.
Julia shook her head. She had thought the dowager’s kindness and unusual propensity to treat her like a member of Society was one of a kind. But, it appeared, the countess was no different. Still, her toilette had never required extra help. She did not wear the type of gown that one couldn’t pull on by oneself, and her hair, unruly as it was with its waves and curls, was only ever pulled into a severe knot at the base of her neck.
Mysterious Miss Channing (Ranford Book 3) Page 4