Anger sparked in his eyes. “Tell me I’m a bastard.” And she realized the volatile sentiment was directed at himself. “Tell me I never deserved you. Slap me.” He delivered those last two words pleadingly.
She shook her head. “I can’t do that.” She couldn’t say or do any such thing. Juliet took a step toward him. “I don’t know a more nobler—”
He groaned and shook his head in protest.
“More generous man,” she continued. She brushed back that single black lock from his brow.
He closed his eyes. “There is nothing noble about me.” His throat moved up and down.
“There is everything noble about you. You love your sisters with a kind of love I only dreamed of from my own brother, my lord.”
His eyes snapped open, filled with fury. “Is that what I am, now? My lord?”
The lord of her life. Her heart. “You were always my lord.” Her voice broke.
Jonathan took her gently by the shoulders. The velum packet slipped from her fingers and joined the sketchpad and riding crop on the ground. “That is not what I always was. I was Jonathan. I was yours, as you were mine.”
She opened her mouth to speak but he pressed two fingers against her lips.
“I spent the past three months telling myself you were better off without me.”
He was wrong. She was nothing without him.
He pushed her bonnet back and ran his gaze over her face. “I convinced myself I was doing the honorable thing, not just because I was being honorable, Juliet. Because I’m not honorable. I’m a selfish, greedy, bastard, and I’ve never been honorable where you are concerned.” He ran the pad of his thumb over her lower lip. “And I thought in staying away from you, and” his gaze moved beyond her shoulder to the stone cottage, and then back to her. “This cottage that I was finally doing the honorable thing where you were concerned, and not because of mere responsibility alone. But because I love you. And when you love someone, you set them free even if it tears you apart from the inside out.”
How wrong he was. A lone tear fell unchecked down her cheek. “You don’t set them free, Jonathan. You fight for them.”
He closed his eyes. “And I didn’t fight for you. Did I? Instead, I fought every day. I fought myself. I fought to turn around each time I marched out the doors of my house and forced myself back inside. I warred with myself. Because you deserve far more than a rogue like me.”
It wasn’t his right to decide what was best for her. Not when she knew in her heart that she would never want or love someone the way she did him.
He lowered his brow to hers. “But I’m still the same selfish, greedy bastard whose carriage you first climbed into because I want you regardless. I want all of you. I want your clever-wit, your cheeky smile. I want your indomintiable spirit. I even want you spitting angry so I can kiss the anger from you.”
I would kiss the proper from you…
Tears clogged her throat and prevented any response. How long she had wanted him.
“Ah, God, don’t look like that. I can’t bear the sight of your tears.”
Except she couldn’t stop them. They fell one by one. Followed by another. And another.
Jonathan dusted the tears from her cheeks, and then when they continued to fall, he lowered his lips and kissed away the remnants of her sadness. “My brave, beautiful Juliet, alone for so long.
He took her face in his palms. He touched his lips to her closed lashes. “But who has helped you, my sweet, fearless Juliet? Who has been there to help you?”
She forced her eyes open and nearly stumbled over the weight of emotion in his eyes.
“Let me be the one, Juliet. Let me be the one to take care of you when you need and love you as you deserve. And in turn, you can care for me as I need and love me even as I’m not deserving.”
Juliet leaned on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his. She poured every bit of longing that kept her awake in the midnight hours into the kiss. Their lips brushed against one another in an age-old rhythm, a meeting, and a reawakening. Then she pulled away. “Yes,” she said softly, and brushed back that same tousled lock. “You were always Jonathan. And I lo—”
“No!” he cut in harshly, killing the words on her lips. “Do not. I’d not let you say it. Not when you deserve to hear first how desperately I love you, how hopelessly empty my life is without you. How meaningless everything is when you are not around.” He dropped to his haunches and held up the deed to Rosecliff Cottage. “I came here to give you your cottage, Juliet. This is yours. It has always been yours. I never had a right to this property.” He reached into his front pocket and withdrew a single note. “I would offer you something else.”
The soft summer breeze rustled the edge of the paper and it fluttered in his hand. He pressed it into her fingers. Juliet stared questioningly at it a moment, and then unfolded the sheet. She skimmed the page. Her heart stilled.
“This is a special license to wed, Juliet,” he said quietly. “You can have your Rosecliff, or you can have your cottage and my offer of marriage. I would that you take both, because I am nothing without you. But if you want nothing more than the return of your cottage then…oomph,” he toppled backward as Juliet hurled herself into his arms. He landed hard on his back upon the cobbled path.
Tears seeped from her eyes and fell onto the day’s growth of beard upon his cheeks. Jonathan grinned up at her, the reckless, devilish smile that had first rattled her world outside of the Hell and Sin Club. He brushed a loose curl that had fallen across her brow. He paused. His fingers lingered upon the familiar green ribbon from long ago.
The ribbon is yours, Juliet. And as your employer I can give you a gift should I so desire.
“Is this a yes, love?” he murmured. “You would make this old rogue your husband, then?”
Juliet lowered her brow to his, lips so close their breaths mingled as one. “This is a yes, love,” she whispered. “You may always be a rogue, Jonathan, but you will be forever my love.”
He claimed her lips in a soft, fleeting kiss, and then brushed a kiss along her temple. “You are wrong, Juliet. I am only your rogue. Only yours.”
Epilogue
Juliet’s purplish-pink skirts danced in the nighttime breeze. She studied Jonathan’s deliberate movements as he snapped open a crisp, white blanket. The wind caught the edge, and then fluttered it back to the earth.
He bent down and gave his black Hessian boot a tug. “Demned boots,” he muttered to himself.
Juliet buried a giggle in her hands as he hopped up and down on one foot until he at last freed a foot. “Do you think they’ll be mad?” she murmured.
He tossed the boot to the edge of the blanket, where it landed with a solid thump. “Oh, yes. Spitting mad.” The second boot proved a deal more cooperative than the first and landed on a different corner of the blanket. “They told me to bring you back but I imagine among the four of them they had grand plans for our wedding.”
“What of your mother?”
He snorted. “The last topic I care to discuss at the present moment is my mother.” Jonathan reached for her, and she willingly slipped into his arms, tilting her lips up to receive his kiss. “You do know some might find this quite wicked, my lady wife,” he whispered against her lips.
They’d been wed only a handful of hours ago, and he’d surely called her that easily two dozen times. She twined her fingers about his neck. “Say it again.”
“Some might find this—”
Laughter bubbled past her lips. “You are incorrigible. Say…”
His wicked grin faded, replaced by a solemnity not typically shown by her husband. “Wife.” He kissed her lips. “Wife.” He kissed her right lashes. “Wife.” He kissed the pulse wildly fluttering at her neck.
Juliet arched her neck, allowing him better access to the sensitive skin there. She would never grow tired of hearing him utter that single word.
He tugged her skirts up, higher, higher, ever higher, until the cool night air
caressed the sensitive skin of her legs. Reality intruded, a reminder of her crippled leg. She buried her face into the white cambric of his loose-flowing shirt, humbled at the perfection of his body when she should be so flawed.
He brushed his knuckle along her chin and forced her gaze to his. “What is this, love?” He lowered her to the blanket and came over her, his gaze searching.
Jonathan’s lips hovered above the swell of her breasts exposed by her modest décolletage. “It’s horrendous,” she blurted.
He looked up at her and frowned. “Horrendous? I’ve never been called—”
She swatted him on the arm. “I’m talking about my leg.” Juliet motioned to the slightly angled bone at the lower portion of her right leg. “It’s horrid,” she said again because it needed to be said.
Jonathan remained silent for a long while. He sat down and pulled her onto his lap. A startled squeak escaped her. She made a sound of protest as he raised her skirts and exposed her skin. He gently wrapped his strong fingers about her ankle. Then, he stroked a hand up and down over the flesh of her lower leg. “Beautiful,” he whispered. “There is no one more beautiful than you.”
“Wh-what a-are you d-doing?” she breathed as he angled her leg upward toward his mouth.
“I’m loving you.” His kiss, as feather light as the summer breeze upon her skin, sent waves of warmth spiraling through her. “As you deserve to be loved.” Jonathan expertly divested her of her gown and it shimmered about them in a purple-pink puddle of satin. His shirt followed suit. “Do you know how desperately I longed to be the man to lay you down on the warmest summer day at your Rosecliff Cottage and make sweet love to you?”
A moan slid past her lips when he cupped the soft curve of her breast. “In the gardens,” she managed to say. He closed his mouth over her breast. She arched her back. “Jonathan,” she groaned. He took her nipple in his mouth and he gently sucked at the swollen flesh.
She cried out a soft protest as he pulled back, but he merely shifted his attention to her other breast. Juliet tangled her fingers into his crown of black curls. He worked his hand between them and parted her womanly folds with his fingers. Her breath quickened, and she bit her lower lip, arching her hips as he slid a finger inside her. Then another. He loved her with his fingers until all coherent thought fled on an aching moan. She dimly registered the moment he angled away from her, but he was only kicking his breeches free, and then he was back, covering her body with his.
Jonathan framed her face between his hands. “I knew I had to have you from the moment you found me outside The Hell and Sin Club. I just didn’t realize at the time that I’d be unable to live without you.” He nudged apart her thighs and positioned himself at the apex of her womanhood.
Her throat worked reflexively.
“This is going to hurt a bit, love.” His hard shaft pressed against her, filling her with fullness, a delicious fullness.
Juliet bit the inside of her cheek, to keep from coming undone by his slow, deliberate movements.
He claimed her lips again. Their tongues met in a gentle meeting. He broke the kiss. “I would spare you all pain if I could. I—”
“Jonathan?”
“Yes?”
She leaned up and took his mouth in a kiss. “Make love to me,” she whispered, because she’d longed for him since that same moment outside the Hell and Sin Club, as well.
He ran a heated gaze over her face. “Under the stars,” he whispered.
“Under the stars.”
He grinned. “With pleasure, my lady wife.” He flexed his hips and filled her with his whole, hard length.
Juliet cried out as pain melded with pleasure. She wrapped her arms about Jonathan’s broad, muscular frame and held onto him. He began to move in and out with slow, deliberate strokes first, then faster, and more urgent. The beautiful planes of his angular face set in a concentrated mask. Beads of perspiration dotted his brow, and she wiped away the moisture. Juliet arched her hips to meet his. Her body tightened, and his strokes grew more frenzied. Their bodies strained against each other.
“Come for me, love,” he commanded, his expression pained.
Juliet’s body stiffened, and then on a keening cry, she exploded into a million shards in his arms. Jonathan joined her. His guttural groan blended with her fast, heavy breaths. He flooded her with his essence and she took him inside her as she’d yearned to for so very long; with her heart, body, and soul. Jonathan collapsed and caught himself upon his elbows. He rolled onto his side, and drew Juliet into the crook of his arms. Their breathing grew less harsh, less labored.
As the crickets croaked their evening symphony, Juliet glanced sleepily up at the twinkling lights high in the summer night sky. “Under the stars,” she whispered.
The End
Biography
Christi Caldwell is the bestselling author of historical romance novels set in the Regency era. Christi blames Judith McNaught's "Whitney, My Love," for luring her into the world of historical romance. While sitting in her graduate school apartment at the University of Connecticut, Christi decided to set aside her notes and try her hand at writing romance. She believes the most perfect heroes and heroines have imperfections and rather enjoys tormenting them before crafting a well-deserved happily ever after!
When Christi isn’t writing the stories of flawed heroes and heroines, she can be found in her Southern Connecticut home chasing around her feisty five-year-old son, and caring for twin princesses-in-training!
Visit http://www.christicaldwellauthor.com to learn more about what Christi is working on, or join her on Facebook at Christi Caldwell Author, and Twitter @ChristiCaldwell
Other Books by Christi Caldwell
“Winning a Lady’s Heart”
A Danby Novella
Author's Note: This is a novella that was originally available in A Summons From The Castle (The Regency Christmas Summons Collection). It is being published as an individual novella.
For Lady Alexandra, being the source of a cold, calculated wager is bad enough...but when it is waged by Nathaniel Michael Winters, 5th Earl of Pembroke, the man she's in love with, it results in a broken heart, the scandal of the season, and a summons from her grandfather–the Duke of Danby.
To escape Society's gossip, she hurries to her meeting with the duke, determined to put memories of the earl far behind. Except the duke has other plans for Alexandra...plans which include the 5th Earl of Pembroke!
“A Season of Hope”
A Danby Novella
Five years ago when her love, Marcus Wheatley, failed to return from fighting Napoleon’s forces, Lady Olivia Foster buried her heart. Unable to betray Marcus’s memory, Olivia has gone out of her way to run off prospective suitors. At three and twenty she considers herself firmly on the shelf. Her father, however, disagrees and accepts an offer for Olivia’s hand in marriage. Yet it’s Christmas, when anything can happen…
Olivia receives a well-timed summons from her grandfather, the Duke of Danby, and eagerly embraces the reprieve from her betrothal.
Only, when Olivia arrives at Danby Castle she realizes the Christmas season represents hope, second chances, and even miracles.
“Forever Betrothed, Never the Bride”
Book 1 in the Scandalous Seasons Series
Hopeless romantic Lady Emmaline Fitzhugh is tired of sitting with the wallflowers, waiting for her betrothed to come to his senses and marry her. When Emmaline reads one too many reports of his scandalous liaisons in the gossip rags, she takes matters into her own hands.
War-torn veteran Lord Drake devotes himself to forgetting his days on the Peninsula through an endless round of meaningless associations. He no longer wants to feel anything, but Lady Emmaline is making it hard to maintain a state of numbness. With her zest for life, she awakens his passion and desire for love.
The one woman Drake has spent the better part of his life avoiding is now the only woman he needs, but he is no longer a man worthy of his Emmaline. It is
up to her to show him the healing power of love.
“Never Courted, Suddenly Wed”
Book 2 in the Scandalous Seasons Series
Christopher Ansley, Earl of Waxham, has constructed a perfect image for the ton–the ladies love him and his company is desired by all. Only two people know the truth about Waxham’s secret. Unfortunately, one of them is Miss Sophie Winters.
Sophie Winters has known Christopher since she was in leading strings. As children, they delighted in tormenting each other. Now at two and twenty, she still has a tendency to find herself in scrapes, and her marital prospects are slim.
When his father threatens to expose his shame to the ton, unless he weds Sophie for her dowry, Christopher concocts a plan to remain a bachelor. What he didn't plan on was falling in love with the lively, impetuous Sophie. As secrets are exposed, will Christopher’s love be enough when she discovers his role in his father’s scheme?
“Always Proper, Suddenly Scandalous”
Book 3 in the Scandalous Seasons Series
Geoffrey Winters, Viscount Redbrooke was not always the hard, unrelenting lord driven by propriety. After a tragic mistake, he resolved to honor his responsibility to the Redbrooke line and live a life, free of scandal. Knowing his duty is to wed a proper, respectable English miss, he selects Lady Beatrice Dennington, daughter of the Duke of Somerset, the perfect woman for him. Until he meets Miss Abigail Stone...
To distance herself from a personal scandal, Abigail Stone flees America to visit her uncle, the Duke of Somerset. Determined to never trust a man again, she is helplessly intrigued by the hard, too-proper Geoffrey. With his strict appreciation for decorum and order, he is nothing like the man' she's always dreamed of.
Always a Rogue, Forever Her Love (Scandalous Seasons Book 4) Page 23