by Rose Gordon
She sighed. It really didn’t matter so much, did it? What did it imply that she didn’t already know? Nothing. It didn’t take being published in one of those fancy circulars Alex Banks read to know Drake neither had the time nor the inclination to host house parties. He just didn’t have that type of personality. Likely, these furnishings had been here as long as he had, and just as likely, they’d be passed onto Drake’s heir in the same pristine state. Juliet swallowed. Drake’s heir. Who was Drake’s heir? All he had were daughters. Ladies couldn’t inherit. Drake needed a son. An eerie feeling crept over her.
He’d never mentioned his need to secure an heir to her before, but that didn’t mean he didn’t need one. It just meant... Meant what? Meant he didn’t want one? Surely not. All men, whether titled or not, wanted a son to pass on their legacy to. Whether a smithy shop or a duchy, it didn’t matter, it was a point of family pride. She understood that. So why hadn’t he pressed her for an heir? Perhaps it was because he didn’t wish to be too forward or imposing. She snorted. That wasn’t the reason. He was Lord Presumptuous, after all. If he’d wanted an heir, he’d have pressed her to create one on their wedding night.
An uncomfortable knot formed in her stomach at the memory of their wedding night. That was the only night she’d slept in the viscountess’ room and he hadn’t come to her room that night. Not that she’d wanted him to, but she hadn’t not wanted him to, either. It was difficult to place exactly why, but for as much as she wouldn’t have wanted to be intimate with him, she’d been disappointed he’d not been the least bit interested in her in that respect. Her frown deepened and she swallowed the lump in her throat, awareness sinking in. He didn’t want her. He hadn’t wanted her then, and he didn’t want her now. That’s why she was in this room. A room meant for merely a guest in his home. That’s what she’d always be, wouldn’t it? A guest. Sure, his gentlemanly side would make him reluctant to house her up by the schoolroom, but after last night, she’d thought― It didn’t matter what she’d thought, the truth was, while he’d moved up in her regard, perhaps she hadn’t moved up in his.
Exhaling, she pushed the thoughts from her mind. Fretting over why he stuck her in any particular room besides his―or even the room intended for the viscountess, at that―wasn’t getting her anywhere. She had things to do today. One of which was attending to the girls, and the other was taking a bath.
Chapter 17
Juliet closed her eyes and leaned her head back, determined not to think about Drake anymore this morning. She’d thought things had changed between them last night, but apparently she was wrong and she wasn’t going to dwell on it. This was her time of solitude and she was going to enjoy it.
Unfortunately for Juliet, her moment of solitude came to an abrupt end when the person she least wanted to see at present barged into the room.
“What the devil are you doing?” Drake exclaimed, his brown eyes held an intense spark.
The water splashed and spilled out the side of the tub as Juliet scrambled to put on her spectacles then cover her breasts as best she could. There may not be much there, but she still wanted to preserve as much dignity as she could. Which wasn’t much considering they’d been in this exact situation only a week prior. “I should ask you that,” she fired back, crossing her legs and turning her hips to keep the triangle of hair positioned between her legs out of his view.
He blinked at her. “Why are you bothering to cover your―” he waved a hand in the direction of her breasts― “now, when last week you didn’t turn a hair about the fact that I was seeing you naked?”
She started. He had a point, he had seen her breasts last week. And not just her breasts, either, if recollection served. Her face heated. Recollection did serve. He’d seen all of her last week. She remembered vividly that she’d actually gotten out of the tub, allowing him to see everything. Shame flushed over her at that bold action. She’d seen the effect she’d had on him when she’d first realized he was in the room and was hoping to tempt him. Tempt him to what? To want her? She knew now he’d never want her. Now that she knew that wouldn’t happen, she suddenly felt insecure and modest. But she couldn’t tell him that. Instead, she inclined her chin. “Circumstances have changed.”
“How so?”
“What does it matter? Did you barge in here to sneak a peek, my lord?” she charged, daring him with her eyes to answer.
His face flushed crimson. “No, that was not my original intent.”
“Then why mention it?”
“Sorry,” he murmured. He ran his hand through his hair and dropped his gaze to the floor. “No, I’m not sorry.” He raised his eyes up to meet hers again. “Now that I think about it, I have some questions, and you’re not leaving this room until I get some answers.”
Juliet glared at him. “And just who do you think you are to demand I give you answers or else you’ll keep me locked in this room.”
“Lord Presumptuous,” he said with a shrug.
She would have laughed at his gesture and even his words if she hadn’t recognized just how forced they’d been. Normally Drake was calm and reserved, able to present a casual air. But he didn’t look so calm and reserved right now. Instead, he looked rigid and stiff. Uncomfortable. Uncertain, even.
Her hands tightened their hold on her breasts. “Since I’m in no position to flee your presence at the moment, you may ask whatever you want, but you cannot demand I answer.”
He stared at her.
She did the same. Just because he had leverage in the form of his clothes, didn’t mean she would let him get what he wanted without a fight. “Why are you even here?” she demanded when he hadn’t begun his interrogation of her yet.
“I was told my wife was in the kitchen getting things ready for a bath.”
“Oh, so you were expecting to take a peek.” She would have been thrilled at that information a few minutes ago. Now she just plain didn’t care. Actually, no. Now, the knowledge was insulting.
“No, I wasn’t looking for a peek. I thought you were helping boil the water or some such nonsense, not naked as a newborn soaking in the tub.” An unusual smile took his lips. “Besides, even I’m that much of an imbecile when it comes to you, if I’d wanted a peek I wouldn’t have stormed in here like that. I would have opened the door as slowly as possible so it didn’t creak then stood in the doorway and looked my fill.”
“You’re perverse.”
“No. I’m honest. But that’s not what we’re talking about. I want to know why you’re bathing in such an open place where anyone could see you.”
She implored him with her eyes. “It seems to me, you’re the only one in here seeing me who shouldn’t be.”
He scowled. “That’s only because I’m standing in front of the door, making sure everyone else keeps his eyes to himself.”
“I have no idea what your complaint is. I’m just taking a bath.”
He took a step closer to her and she tightened her legs. “Is that what you think?”
She blinked. “Did you hit your head on the ceiling in the carriage when Cruxley drove over a tree trunk last night?” He was making no sense, and acting like an imbecile, at that.
“No.” He folded his arms, standing next to her tub. “I don’t like the idea of your bathing for all the world to see.”
“I am not.”
“Yes, you are,” he countered, his expression impossible for her to read. He cocked his head to the side, then suddenly his eyes widened and he blinked. “I’m sorry, Juliet. I understand now.”
“Understand what?” she asked, more out of frustration than curiosity.
He flushed and tore his gaze away. “You―” he gestured to her as if she didn’t know who he was talking about― “are used to people watching you bathe. All those younger siblings and all.” He shuddered. “I imagine you didn’t have much in the way of privacy. So you’ve no qualm with others seeing what some might consider to be...er...private.”
His boyishly red face, comple
te with him blinking his eyes and biting his lip did nothing to settle the rage building in Juliet’s chest. “You are a very arrogant man! Just because my family doesn’t have the wealth or connections you come from, does not give you leave to demean me. I’ll admit, I may not have grown up having baths as frequently as you. And I will also admit my family members walked in on me from time to time, thus leading me not to be as modest as most. But, you go too far when you imply that I have no modesty or shame.”
Drake crossed his arms. “Then why are you bathing in such a public place as the kitchen?”
She stared at him, dumbfounded. “And where else would I bathe?”
“Your room.”
“And which room would that be, my lord?”
His mouth worked, but no words came out.
She smiled. “That’s what I thought.”
“What’s what you thought?” he snapped.
“You don’t know where I fit in your life.” Her words weren’t meant as anything other than just a statement of the truth, but for some reason he winced.
“Is that what you really think?” He sat down on the stool next to her tub not bothering to pick up her towel before sitting on it.
“Yes. That’s exactly what I think. Though you married me in hopes of having me work as a governess to your daughters, you realized that wouldn’t work because I’m your wife. Well, for appearance sake, anyway.” She gave up the fight to keep herself covered and stood. Modesty was a small sacrifice to be able to leave the room.
“What’s that to mean?”
She shrugged, then a blush crept over her when she realized the movement made her breasts bounce before his gaze. “It means for the sake of appearances I am your wife. Nothing more. The only time you’ve ever been kind to me was when we were in public and you had to in order to keep up the facade. But when it’s just us, the real you comes out.”
“The real me?”
“Yes. The real you. The one who’s condescending and disinterested.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why I’m even explaining this to you. Would you please get up. You’re sitting on my towel.”
He didn’t budge. “Juliet, I―I―”
“Don’t bother yourself, Drake. I know you have no desire to actually make me your wife in truth. But I’d rather you not pretend to have any feelings beyond cold indifference outside the estate if that’s all you’re going to have inside.” Inclining her chin, she walked away from him.
He called her name, but she didn’t stop. In fact, she quickened her pace.
Opening the kitchen door a crack, she peeked into the hallway to make sure nobody was immediately outside of the kitchen. Satisfied she would not be seen in such a scandalous state, Juliet rushed across the hall and hid in the pantry to wait for Drake to leave so she could at least get her towel.
Chapter 18
Patrick swallowed as he shamelessly stared at Juliet’s back as she walked away from him to quit the room. Even for as bold as she was, he was certain she wouldn’t actually walk very far without a stitch of clothes covering her. But instead of being the gentleman and rushing to hand her a blasted towel, he played the role of the cad and stayed firmly on that stool, taking in her luscious backside with his eyes.
Only a matter of seconds later, Juliet slipped from view and Patrick suppressed a groan. He’d not been ready to give up his view of her delectable body. He blew out a breath and scratched his jaw. He needed to wait a few minutes before leaving, but not too long or he’d miss her. He took out his pocket watch and waited for two minutes to tick off before standing up and picking up her towel.
Whistling, he left the kitchen and went straight to the door he knew she had to be behind. A million thoughts raced through his mind. But none of them seemed right. He’d tried to put voice to his feelings in the kitchen, but he’d let his mouth get away from him and he’d made a hash of things. Again. He twisted his lips. What was it about her that drove him to constantly make such an ass of himself?
Shrugging off the thought, he opened the door. “I brought you something,” he said when his eyes landed on Juliet.
Her grey eyes pierced him and she reached for the towel he was holding. She wrapped it around herself, then crossed her arms in front of her.
He stepped into the pantry, swallowing his unease with each step. “Is that what you want, Juliet?”
“What?”
“For me to make you my wife in truth?” His voice thick with desire.
Juliet didn’t respond.
Patrick took her downcast face in his hands and tilted it up toward his. “Would you like to come upstairs with me?”
Her wide, grey eyes refused to meet his.
Lowering his lashes, Patrick let his eyes feast on her plump pink lips. He bet they were soft. They looked soft. His right thumb came up and lightly ran across her bottom lip. He added a hint of pressure to steady its tremble. “Let’s go upstairs,” he whispered.
“U―upstairs?” she croaked.
He nodded, unable to form words. He took his hands from her cheeks and trailed a slow path down her neck to rest on her shoulders, his sure lips meeting her unsteady ones. He applied slight pressure, moving his lips over and between hers. He pulled back an inch. “Kiss me back,” he murmured.
“I―I―d-don’t know how,” she admitted.
“Yes, you do.” He leaned forward to capture her lips again.
Beneath his, her lips hesitantly mirrored his movements, exerting pressure and moving over and between his. He parted his lips and drew her bottom lip into his mouth, gently nipping it with his teeth before soothing it with his tongue. Her sigh at his action hardened him instantly. Blood pounding in his ears, he ran his tongue along her bottom lip once more before dipping inside her mouth. She tasted of pears, sweet. His tongue swept the inside of her left cheek before sliding over her tongue.
Patrick barely registered the soft tap on the top of his shoes as her towel dropped. Her hands gripped his shoulders. Her tongue grew more daring, slipping into his mouth to explore. He reached up to hold the back of her head to keep her mouth firmly against his, his fingers digging into her thick curtain of wet hair. Her tongue parried with his, touched everywhere inside his mouth that his was touching in hers, driving him to distraction more with each flick and taste.
He pulled away, panting. “Will you come upstairs with me?”
She stood motionless, staring at him for what felt like an eternity, her kiss-swollen lips silently begging him to devour them again. He leaned forward to answer their call, and stopped when she nodded ever-so-slightly.
He swallowed convulsively as his brain attempted to scramble half a thought together. It was all he could do to remember to pluck her towel off the floor before scooping her up.
The walk to his room had never seemed so long. Never could he remember a time when he was so drawn to a woman, so intoxicated by her. Never.
With more grace than he knew he possessed, Patrick placed her on the bed, removed her spectacles, and then shut his door. Striving to control his lust, Patrick walked slowly back to the bed, his eyes feasting on the sight in front of him―countering his best efforts of lust control. He wanted her. There was no denying it now, he craved her like a man stranded in the desert craved a cool glass of water.
A knot of unease and panic formed in his chest. If memory served as an honest reminder, and usually it did, this might be the only time he’d get to enjoy Juliet this way. Best to take it slow, allow her time for any sort of enjoyment she might be able to experience before satisfying himself.
He looked down to where she lay atop his bed with only a small scrap of a towel covering her. “You’re beautiful,” he breathed, grabbing hold of the corner of her towel. Taking his time, he slid it down her body as slowly as he could, devouring every inch of her body with his eyes as he went. Letting the towel drop to the floor, Patrick took a step back and let his eyes do another thorough sweep of her naked body.
Her lower lip quivered and her hands cl
utched the counterpane, twisting. “Are you removing your clothes now?” she asked, biting her lip.
He blinked at her. Couldn’t she see he wasn’t removing his clothes? “No.”
“Oh.” She blinked, her face flushing. “I just thought...”
“You thought?”
“Now that I was naked, you’d, you know.”
Yes, he did know. But he wanted to take his time, go slow. What was her rush? “Are you sure you wish to do this?” He had to ask. He needed to know.
“Yes,” she answered quietly. “I’m sure. It’s just that...that...”
“What? What is it?”
Juliet’s body shifted, her hands releasing the counterpane and coming up to cover her breasts and feminine curls in a way that hid next to nothing and only stirred his interest more. “I know I said before that I wasn’t overly modest, but I might have been slightly untruthful.” She lowered her lashes, the pale skin of her chest and neck flushing dark red. “Without my spectacles I cannot see you, but given the circumstances of what we’re about to do, I’d feel better at least knowing you were in the same state.”
Patrick’s heart twisted. Too caught up in his own need, he’d completely forgotten about her eyesight, or lack thereof. While he was a visual person by nature, she wasn’t. She’d need to touch and feel in order to “see” him. “I’m sorry, Juliet,” he rasped, his fingers working the buttons of his coat and waistcoat as fast as they could move. He pulled his shirt off and walked up to her. “Can you see me now?”
She nodded. “I can see that you’re here, but nothing more.”