She watched Mr. Tanner contemplate their next exchange as though the weight of the world rested upon what he posed. He paced a tight circle around the table. Then another, his gaze sweeping from her hiding place to the doorway Jacks and Wivy had left through, a smattering of hmmms escaping his throat.
Instead of completing a third revolution as she thought he might, he swung around and his Hessians clipped confidently across the room. Toward the exit. She choked back a cry. He couldn’t leave! Not now!
“Mr. Tanner!” Juliet protested, her spine going rigid, her entire body listing forward as though she could reach him through the screen and stop his retreat. “Don’t go! Please!”
“Go?” he said casually over one shoulder, still moving inexorably away. “Who said anything about going?” He paused at the closed door and made a great show of slowly turning the lock.
The resulting snick was quiet enough that Jacks failed to hear.
Vastly relieved Mr. Tanner had, instead of exiting the premises as she’d feared, locked himself in, she sank back into her chair.
“What do I want for my neckcloth?” he repeated again, one hand worrying the silk knot above his collar. A mischievous grin on his formidable face, he prowled forward, stopping once he reached his previous spot on the rug. He stared directly through the waterfall before giving the neckcloth a final flick. “Nothing. Not a blasted thing. However, I am willing to grant you my shirt for your dress.”
She stifled the automatic squeak of dismay. Neckcloth aside, once his shirt was gone, she’d see him, know if he possessed the form she’d dreamed of and longed for. And you’ll also be a garment or two away from being a total wicked wanton! Mayhap, but was not Scandalous her new name? With an increasing sense of naughtiness guiding her tongue and actions, Juliet replied, “Just so. But you shall go first this time and toss your garment to me.”
Before she finished, he was struggling to push his neckcloth out of the way so he could lift the shirt over his head. Too agitated to watch the battle—in truth, too overcome by the sight of the decisive ridge growing more distinct at the front of his breeches—she squeezed her eyes shut. I will not act missish. I will not swoon from excitement. I will not—
Her efforts were hampered—nay, destroyed—when warm linen landed directly upon her head.
“Your turn, I believe,” his rough voice intoned as the crisp, woodsy scent of bergamot suffused her senses, seduced away her remaining sense. “My lady? I await your dress.”
Juliet eased his shirt away from her face. “And so you shall have it.”
She wore a simple day dress, one fastened with buttons below her nape and made fitted by the sash beneath her breasts. Loosening her grip on his shirt and keeping her eyes downcast—for fear he wouldn’t live up to her imaginings?—she leaned forward to undo both buttons and bow with fingers that fumbled.
“Have you cried coward?” he asked silkily, and it sounded as though he’d moved toward her. “Changed your mind?”
“Nay!” she choked out, ordering her fingers to firm up and cooperate. Though she lacked a dedicated one at present, Juliet informed him, “There’s a reason ladies have maids, Mr. Tanner! Our attire isn’t meant—”
“Shall I come round and assist?”
“Nay! Stay where you are!” Finally the long end of the sash whispered free. “Please do not move, not yet.”
“Panic not, dear one. For now, I shall impatiently await your offering.”
“Aye, please.” Remaining seated, she shuffled her weight from hip to hip and awkwardly tugged until the dress slid beyond her posterior. Then she whipped it up and over her head as fast as humanly possible, mussing the prim knot she’d tamed this morning beyond redemption.
Emerging from the dark cocoon of her dress, Juliet was reminded of a chrysalis bursting forth into a splendorous butterfly—one with a slightly broken wing—and resolved to put aside any remaining reticence, to do away with her nettlesome nerves. If, as she was beginning to surmise, she’d found the man she intended to call husband, then did she not owe it to herself to enjoy the remainder of their “interview” to its absolute fullest?
Straightening her spine and swinging her head back like a sauce-box, she found his face through the screen. “There. It is off.”
He advanced two steps then stopped, his nostrils flaring.
Could he, too, smell her desire?
Her eyes longed to drop below his chin; maidenly uncertainty held them in place. Despite her focus on that granite feature, with its chiseled indentation surrounded by a faint shadow of whiskers, she made out the massacre of his neckcloth, one long end swaying across an expanse of chest so broad—
She looked.
Looked and gasped. For not five feet from her, nearly bare, save for the rumpled silk bisecting it, was the finest example of manly beauty Juliet could’ve conceived. The lightly furred, ridged muscles stretching across and tapering down were sun-darkened. Just inside his hip bones, dual shadowed indentions disappearing into his buckskins tempted her fingers to learn his hidden secrets. The arms tensed at his sides were no different, sculpted shoulders and biceps beckoning her forward.
Oh, to have those arms wrapped around her, to be held against such a formidable display of strength and grandeur. To lay her troubles at his feet and have him slay dragons alongside her… Aye, this was the man she chose.
“And what…” her voice sounded hushed to her own ears, “shall I grant you in exchange for your neckcloth?”
“Your face,” Zeus told her, resolved. To be this hard, aching this fiercely for a wench he’d yet to see? One who’d led—nay, continued to lead—him on a dreadfully merry chase? “It’s the outside of enough, madam! I would see you now. Your face, your hair, your breas—” The word he hadn’t meant to utter aloud strangled off when she emerged from behind the screen.
More petite than he’d expected, given her force of personality, he struggled to take in everything about her at once. Critically so, for at first glance, Zeus feared he was doomed.
Doomed to crave her the rest of his days.
Her nose was too long, her chin too pointed. Lips too narrow. And eyes? Definitely too expressive. The blue-grey of a churning sky before a tempest, they matched the thunderous, late-day clouds pressing in beyond the raised windowpane. Blinking up at him with uncertainty and appreciation and desire…
Aye, definitely desire.
“Lady Juliet Ashland,” she said by way of introduction, curtsying with care. Twin spots of color blazed from her cheeks and she angled her head to hold his gaze while lowering her body. “I am honored to meet you, Mr. Tanner. Very honored.”
Despite features his analytical mind thought anything but perfect, she appeared perfectly adorable to him, her allure only enhanced by how she openly admired him, as though he, too, exceeded her expectations.
As his pride—among other things—inflated under her regard, two additional items registered at once.
First, that the glorious sunset hair, trapped in a disastrously uneven knot hanging near one shoulder, was the finest he’d ever seen, calling forth his fingers to ensnare themselves in it from here ’til infinity, and secondly— “Your leg! It’s splinted!”
In little more than shift and stays, she straightened and hobbled toward him, bracing part of her weight on a simple axillary crutch. “Glad I am to note your powers of observation.”
He strode forward and scooped her against his chest, the crutch crashing to the floor.
No sooner did it land than Jacks hollered through the door. “Milady? Has the bounder overstepped?”
“Have I?” Zeus inquired in a whisper, hefting her in his arms.
The color on her cheeks blazed hotter. “Nay.”
She threw her arms around his neck as he carried her to the settee, leaving Zeus confounded as to why she’d hide her person—when she possessed such a devilishly pleasing exterior—and speculating how soon he could taste the narrow, tremulous smile that tempted more than any lush pout.
“Milady?!” The manservant banged on the door.
“’Tis nothing!” she called out as Zeus carefully placed her upon the cushion. He fancied she stroked one hand down his bare chest before he stood upright. “Now leave off your duties for the night, Jacks! ’Tis an order!”
Zeus stepped back, rounding the low table. He had to because if he tasted her now, he wouldn’t stop until he’d licked all of her and his eyes weren’t done yet. Not even close.
“Lady Juliet, the honor is all mine.” He bowed, ridiculous with his neckcloth dangling before him, but necessary nevertheless, for here—despite the tangled hair and improper (no thanks to him) attire, despite the appalling habit of asking after his faults, despite the brazenness to trade clothes with a stranger—was the “lady” he’d never truly thought to claim for his own.
The one he couldn’t wait to make his.
“Z. J. Tanner, yours…” He returned to his full height, for once keeping his expression diffident. “Dare I hope for the rest of the evening, and possibly the rest of our lives?”
As if that reminded her of what brought them together, she nodded decisively and arranged herself, shift, stays and all, as demurely as any maiden. Cheeks still pinker than he would’ve predicted, given what she’d required of him so far and willingly forfeited in exchange, she captured his gaze and bid, “Please read your remaining character reference.”
“My what?” He couldn’t have heard aright.
“The character. From your mistress.”
“Read it? Out loud? To you?” When his erection now strained his buckskins, when his nostrils were so filled with her scent he couldn’t breathe without taking her in?
“I fail to see anyone else in the room.”
When he was half ready to do anything she asked, his debatable birthright be damned, just because he desired to bed her? Yearned to wed her? “Nay!”
Stormy eyes flashed to his. “Aye. I want to hear her words in your voice.”
If he hadn’t caught the faint quiver in hers, or so Zeus told himself, he wouldn’t have done it.
Wouldn’t have retrieved the letter from the pocket of his tailcoat, brushing against her nude shoulder intentionally as he leaned over to do so, before retreating a respectable distance—Respectable? Hah!—where he unfolded the parchment, saw again the words written with so much unfathomable glee it made him cringe to remember, and willingly overlooked the sting to his dignity. “Ahem-hem.” Grit seared his throat, as if his body knew what it was about to audibly announce and sought to stop him. “Ahh-hemmm!”
Either that or maybe it was the blasted scone still making its presence known.
“Arrhhhh-hemm.”
“Mr. Tanner? Shall you proceed or shall I request Wivy rejoin us?” As if she would! Juliet would no sooner put a halt to their intimate encounter than she would force Mr. Tanner to do anything so obviously abhorrent to him—if she had any other choice.
Which she didn’t, not in this instance. She had to know what his lovers thought of his swiving prowess. “I’d rather not, but if I must, in order to secure your cooperation for the remainder of our interview…”
As though her empty threat loosened his tongue, he heartedly began reciting the words on the page. “I, Marianna Longley, currently of Torrington House, Surrey, do declare Zeus Tanner—”
“Zeus?” Juliet laughed as she said it, the surprising syllable tickling her tongue. “That’s your given name?”
It was either laugh or take to the floor in a faint. She’d never been so close to a man she found so harshly appealing.
His features were bold, definitely too severe to be considered handsome, classically or otherwise. But the fierce expression in his eyes drew her as nothing else. Screen, modesty and modest attire so far gone she couldn’t conceive ever wanting them back.
“It is,” he said so haughtily she could well believe he commanded a pantheon of gods. “Does it displease you? That the…bastard son of a maid would be granted something so illustrious, so far above his station?”
“Nay! I adore it, truly!” Sobering, she allowed her gaze to roam over defiant features that undoubtedly expected her to find fault with his humble origins, to eagerly skim over muscles worthy of Hercules and any earthly task. Then she stared intently into his eyes. A brilliant blue, she saw now. They shone like the eye of a peacock feather, reminding her of those majestic beauties that once strutted over the grounds of Amherst…but no longer. The bittersweet memory softened her voice. “Zeus. It suits you, for no name could be stronger. Fit for a king, it is.”
His complexion turned ruddy. “Aye. That’s what Mum always said—better to be king of the gods than king of a paltry country.”
“And I daresay she was right. Ruling mere mortals on earth cannot compare to the inhabitants of Olympus.”
His shimmering eyes narrowed, as if to stop her from seeing into his soul. “And my birth?”
“What of it?”
Zeus couldn’t decide if she mocked him with her casual disregard or if his disgraceful beginnings were truly of no consequence. “The notion of wedding a bastard doesn’t degrade you? Make your tongue trip over itself in your haste to order me evicted?”
“Nothing could be further from my thoughts, I assure you.” A lift of russet brows accompanied her earnest reply. “I’ve learned the measure of a man is in how he treats others, not what title he may or may not possess, and certainly not things in which he had no say or control over. Your letter? Please continue.”
Stupefied by her calm acceptance of what he’d dreaded as his final obstacle, never anticipating a lady of rank would acknowledge him without exhaustive convincing, Zeus made an effort to find his tongue, pry it off the floor where it’d dropped along with his jaw, and employ it with the same aplomb she exhibited. “…declare Zeus Tanner to be a most generous and thoughtful lover. His praiseworthy actions before the…act…” he stumbled here, recalling the gaiety with which Marianna had written this part, “are dampening in the extreme. He will set his sights—”
“Pardon me,” Lady Juliet interrupted, a quizzical expression replacing the encouraging one of before. “She deems it a tribute to call your efforts ‘dampening’?”
He stared. Was she in jest? “What?”
She leaned away from the settee, the skin between her eyebrows creasing. “Her…ardor…” Now she stumbled. Then forged ruthlessly ahead. “You dampen it? And yet she praises you?”
Good God. He’d known the lecher she was married to. It was inconceivable. But… “Are you an innocent?”
Rather than answer, she bit one corner of her mouth and relaxed back into the cushions, crossing then uncrossing her arms and looking everywhere but at him. “Well?” Zeus demanded into the strained silence. “Are you in truth a virgin?”
Not that it made any difference to him; he wanted her, was beginning to think she needed him.
Hell. It did make a difference. A big one.
A lady for a wife. A virgin bride.
Fate had surely smiled on him for once. But how to convince her he was the husband she required without having to reveal the rest of this damnable letter?
Her own spirits dampened now that she’d inadvertently betrayed her ignorance, Juliet sought to cover the blunder by feigning confidence. “I was married to one of the crudest men in England for all of three years. What do you think?”
She finally brought her eyes back to his magnificent chest, her mouth going dry at the sight. Hair. Who knew a man could have such a glorious feathering of silky hair upon his sculpted musculature? Traveling across the textured plains of his stomach, past his naval and down…down…
“I think your husband was the worst of men. A hard-arsed, bracket-faced buffoon. A reprobate and a bastard in the worst possible sense.” As though stunned by hearing the oaths spewing from his mouth, Mr. Zeus Tanner tensed his jaw, inclined his head in a brief bow. “Forgive me. I think, regardless of whatever experience you claim to have, you’ve never been bedded
properly.”
“And you know how to do that? Bed me…properly?”
His head came up, eyes flashing fire. “I most certainly do!”
“Please go on.”
“With…bedding you?” he said raggedly.
Juliet gave a negative shake of her head. “With your reading.”
She thought she heard him mutter “I’d rather get right to the bedding” before he plainly said, “In truth, I’ll do most anything to postpone finishing this letter.”
“Most anything?” Juliet sought confirmation. Dare she ask what kept crossing her mind? Oh, it was too brazen by half! Wivy would be aghast to learn Juliet risked her already shaky reputation (ruined by running the advertisement in the first place, according to Wivy) to request such a thing.
Who says Wivy must know? She’s not here any longer, now is she?
But you are. And he is.
And oh, merciful heavens, he was so very big and brawny, his powerful muscles so spectacular. His sun-lightened hair and sun-darkened body the complete opposite of Leth’s scrawny, whey-toned self and slouchy stature.
“Aye,” he said assuredly, likely having no clue what manner of wicked thoughts now danced temptingly through her head. “You’ve already tested my mettle with your higgledy-piggledy array of questions, my taste buds with your huckster of a scone and my patience with your confounding ability to prevaricate. Why not test me further?” He ended on a relaxed laugh. “What would you have me do? Or answer? Though my current ensemble is certainly not fit for king nor court, I remain most courteously at your service.”
His glib-tongued wordplay tempted a smile, but the compulsion to see more of him stript to the skin prevented her from responding in kind. “Would you…”
“Would I what?”
“Would you…mayhap…consent to… Oh blazes! Forget I asked. Or didn’t ask.” She huffed a sigh. “I pray you will forgive the interruption. Now do go on with her letter.”
Lady Scandal Page 5