Cathryn shook her head, appalled at his gall. “No, my lord.”
Julian came to stand behind her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Hedges seems disturbingly intent on her as well.”
That broke the duke’s assessing stare. Cathryn heaved a sigh of relief, as if she had thrown off invisible shackles, but she was shocked again when the duke answered, “Yes, he wants the Sapphos, of course.”
“The Sapphos?” Julian’s hand tightened, but he kept his voice neutral.
“The Greek poetess, Sappho, and several others, all female,” he said as he headed for a side table. “Sir Geoffrey translated most of the existing texts. I understand Lady Sibley has ownership of the translations.”
A surge of protective pride lifted her off her seat. “Sir, it was I who translated the female Greek poets.”
“Nonsense,” he said as he picked up a stack of Julian’s correspondence. “I saw them myself. They were extraordinary, in several dialects.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Apparently there was nothing of concern in the letters, because he tossed the papers back and moved on to a low cherry table.
“Well, in any case, Hedges has mentioned them on occasion. He thinks them quite valuable.” He lifted his eyes and scanned her. “Do you have them here?”
She loathed the way he owned her with his eyes. Frustration threatened to boil over her calm exterior.
“Duke, was there a purpose to your visit?” Julian stepped forward and put his hand over his personal ledger to prevent the inquisitive man from opening it.
“To offer my apologies on the appearance of impropriety this incident has caused, of course.” The small man sniffed around the room one last time as he headed for the door. “I appreciate that my name has not been in the press, and that American fellow you sent was most diplomatic on your behalf.”
Nearly to Julian’s desk, he asked again, “Is your translation here? May I see it?” He glanced at Cathryn. “And the Sapphos?”
Cathryn shot him daggers, but Julian deflected her ire with a quick response. “My work is at the copy makers, sir. I would be honored to show it to you when the copy is complete.”
“And Sir Geoffrey’s work?”
She wanted to demonstrate Fiona’s eye-gouging move on the damned duke.
Julian managed to keep his tone deferential. “The Sapphos are also being copied.”
“Poor timing on my part,” he muttered as he resumed his course, detouring to pass the far side of Julian’s mahogany desk. “By the way, Lady Sibley, well done on your piece in this morning’s press. That showed some spunk.” Bold as brass, he picked up Julian’s journal and dropped it into his outercoat pocket.
Cathryn’s chin dropped, and she turned to see Julian equally slack-jawed as he pondered the dilemma. The duke made haste for the door, and she grabbed a newspaper from the table and rushed to beat him to the exit. “Duke?” She was nearly winded when she reached him and gave him what she hoped was a distracting smile. “Have you seen the afternoon press?” Holding up the paper, she folded it in half before he could reach for it. “Ten thousand women showed up for the class, give or take a few thousand.”
Folding the tabloid again, she curtsied slightly. “We have extra copies, sir. Please take this one to read on your way home.” Just as bold as he had been, she slipped the rag into his pocket and withdrew Julian’s journal, as discretely as she could, holding it behind her skirts as she rose from her curtsy.
Julian stood close behind her. He took the retrieved item and slipped it into his own pocket. “Thank you for your visit, Lord Clarendon.”
“Ten thousand, you say? Extraordinary.” The duke appeared momentarily confused as he glanced back and forth between them. Cathryn held her breath as she waited for his reaction. “I’m glad to see you’re both well.” He bowed slightly. “I would like to see the copies when you have them. I shall remain in London until that time.”
Cathryn released a sigh of relief. Julian left her side and opened the door himself. “It will be a week at the least. Perhaps a fortnight.”
“Dammit,” he muttered. “I’ll stay until they are complete. Hurry them along as best you can.”
“Clarendon?” Julian stopped him as Millman approached.
“Yes?”
“If you have a visit from Hedges, tell him I would very much like to speak with him.”
“I doubt the man is still in London, but of course, I will send him your way.”
Millman pulled the door behind himself and the royal pilferer, and Julian turned with a grin. “Well done, love.” He removed the journal and held it up. “Where did you learn to do that?”
She giggled nervously, unsure how to answer until vague memories surfaced of highly irregular classroom discussions with street scamps. “It seems the poorhouse children taught me a few tricks. I seem to be picking up bad habits faster than good ones.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Well, you saved me a bit of embarrassment.” He flipped through the pages absently.
“Why? What’s in your journal—dirty sketches?”
“No, love,” he said with a chuckle as he led her back to the settee. “While you were out rallying the troops, I stared into the fire and thought of you. Giles is very upset I didn’t sleep.” He waited as she sat, then joined her. “I’m fond of Oriental poetry. It’s very contemplative.”
She was dying to know what was in the journal, but she merely smiled. Perhaps he planned to declare his love, and she didn’t want to interrupt him.
“I’d planned to show them to you at Gorham House.”
When her courses were over.
“But now that the duke has made them an issue…” He hesitated.
“I should very much like to see them, Julian.”
He tapped his fingers lightly on the cover before he asked, “Have you heard of hokku?”
“Wasn’t your poem to me a hokku? Five, seven, five syllables?”
“Yes, love, or three, five, three—anything under seventeen syllables. I know I’m a rank amateur and I don’t bother with exactitudes.” He opened the journal and she saw his sprawling cursive filled the first few pages. “Frankly, I haven’t written a love poem in a decade. I’m a bit rusty.”
She wondered for a moment at the recipients of his previous efforts. Possibly Fiona, but how many others? “Julian, please, show me.”
He grinned at her innocent comment. “My favorite expression, that. I shall have to include it in a future hokku.”
The ice was broken as memories of her boldness in her own study flooded her with warmth.
“These are only bits of thought, Cat.”
“Please.”
He laid the journal in her lap and opened it to a page full of short poems. His handwriting was a puzzle and she looked at him with a shy smile.
“Could you read it, please?”
“Oh, yes, my scrawl. The bane of my instructors’ existence,” he said as he put his arm around her and pulled her close.
“The poem you sent to me was very elegantly written. Did someone copy it for you?”
“No, I can write neatly with effort. Today I let my thoughts flow freely, and I meant to copy them for you later.” He cleared his throat lightly and read in a soft, low voice that rumbled through her, “My love murrs, a satisfied Cat,” He paused for effect. “Sweet as cream.”
His love. He called her that frequently, was this his declaration? “That was lovely, Julian.” She relaxed and purred into his chest. “I shall murr for you anytime you like.”
He kissed her hair and started to close the book.
“Another, please.”
“If you like.” She nodded and settled back into his arms as he read slowly. “Birds in flight, Autumn’s bold delight.” Another break and his tone was full of emotion when he finished, “Marry me.”
“Oh, Julian.” She kissed his cheek and stroked his strong jawline, stopping to trace the dimple she adored. “Another, please.�
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He nodded. “Sparkling Vauxhall lights, Fulfilling secret desires,” he said with rising passion, “Stealing sounds of love.”
“That was the wickedest thing I’ve ever done, eavesdropping like that.” A throbbing between her legs signaled her own response, and she wondered if she would remain unsatisfied yet another day.
Julian shifted beneath her. “I’m afraid that last verse set my mind in a more…physical direction. Perhaps we should wait.”
He had barely touched her in two days, and she yearned for some sort of intimacy with him. “Just one more verse, please.”
“As you wish,” he said, and then he chuckled. “I could pair that with ‘show me, please’.”
Her heart jumped at the suggestive comment, and he dropped the book nearer to his lap. His tone was darkly seductive as he read, “Whimper for me, love.” He kissed her hair and shifted again. “Murmur, moan, shudder, and sigh,” his voice was raspy as he finished. “Fill me with your bliss.” He drew her in for a long kiss that set her head spinning and her body thrumming.
Desire overcame her, and she broke away and rose without a word, crossing the room in long strides to the door, where she turned the lock quietly before returning to his side. She loosened the ties on her dress as she sank back down beside him. He had undone his waistcoat and loosened his cravat. Their eyes met and she said, “More, please.”
He glanced at the text and then back to her as he recited. “Lips fall apart, Warm breaths guide my way.” She unbuttoned the front of his shirt and stroked the light mat of hair on his muscled chest. He spread his legs as he finished. “Lust trumps shame.”
Setting the journal aside, his eyes stayed on her breasts. “Show me, Cat.” Taking her face in his hands, he kissed her gently. “Please.” He took the initiative and lowered her bodice. “Lovely,” he muttered as he bent to spread kisses across her breasts.
She watched his dark head pleasuring her and forgot all propriety. Her head fell back as he sucked on her nipples and gently kneaded her aching flesh, bringing waves of satisfaction with each firm touch. The cloth of her gown constricted her reach, but she saw the bulge in his trousers had grown. Poor fellow needed relief as much as she did.
Backing away slightly, she freed her arms and smiled at the look of adoration in his golden eyes. Her half-corset displayed her breasts for him, and he continued to feed greedily on the sight. She felt beautiful, perfect for this man.
“Show me, please,” she said as she dropped her gaze to the prominence in his lap.
“As you wish.” Leaning forward, he laved her breasts with his tongue as he freed himself.
She could see the veins pulsing in his erection when he finally revealed its length. Her puckered nipples glistened from his wet kisses, and he drew her down to stroke the head of his cock across the slick, sensitive tips of her breasts. His warm flesh on hers sent waves of desire spiraling throughout her and she whimpered.
“Yes, love, whimper for me.” His low command incited her, and a current of whimpers followed. He held his erection and wiped the bulb against her crimson peaks in gentle caresses that sent shock waves through her body.
The sensations became too intense and she backed away. “It’s almost too much.”
His cock throbbed between them, and she stared for a moment before he whispered, “Use your hands on me, love.”
Her hands trembled as she reached for him, and his cock jerked when she touched him, but she circled him firmly with both hands, nearly covering the length of him.
“Stroke me. Up and down,” he said through gritted teeth.
His hips lifted off the couch, and he groaned as she slid her hands up and over the bulb and then down all the way to the base where she met the cloth of his trousers. Remembering how wonderful the slickness felt on her nipples, she leaned over and licked the tip of his cock, using the wetness to glide her hand up and down the length of him. She enjoyed licking him and when she did it a second time, she planted kisses and followed her hands with her lips.
“Cathryn,” he muttered uncomfortably as he shifted away.
“Don’t you like it when I kiss you thus?”
“I like it too much.”
“Then teach me to do it properly.” Extending her tongue, she licked from one end to the other, watching his reaction. “Fanny Hill had little insight for me on this subject.”
“You do very well, love.” His thighs lifted and he groaned as she repeated her wet caress. She looked up at him and saw a dam break in his eyes, as if a flood of sensations overwhelmed him. His lids lowered as a shudder passed through him, and he surrendered to her wishes. “Open your mouth, take me inside.”
His bulb appeared enormous, but she parted her lips and sucked the tip into her mouth. His loud, ragged breaths urged her on, and she eased her head down and explored the rim of him with her tongue.
“Ah, yes, just below the head is very sensitive.”
She flicked her tongue, and he grasped her shoulders and pulled her away. “That’s enough.”
She clasped him with her hands and felt him pulsing, a hard rod sheathed in velvet, ready to explode.
“Lift your skirts,” he said as he undid his trousers completely, easing the constriction on the rest of his bulge.
Their eyes met and she wondered if he had forgotten, or if he planned to make love to her irrespective of the inconvenience.
“Leave a petticoat down, I only want to pleasure you.”
Reluctantly, she released him and bunched her silk skirts and two layers of cotton onto her lap. She held her breath as she watched his hand disappear beneath her blue silk. She leaned back and spread her thighs to provide him access, still uncertain as to his exact intent, but she didn’t want to stop him.
His fingers found her small hard shaft through the thin layer of muslin and he flicked across the sensitive flesh, sending a satisfying jolt of delight thrilling through her. She watched him pleasure himself as well as her, and the carnal pressure that had been hovering just below her surface for days quickly burst in a cascade of heat that consumed her from within. She shuddered as her release continued in a long flow of ecstasy, and he rubbed steadily until the last remnants ebbed.
“I should like to pleasure you forever,” he whispered in a low rasp.
Her breath was recovering and she stammered through her response. “That’s a desire…I will gladly…appease…my love.”
He withdrew his hand from her skirts and brought a handkerchief to cover himself as he groaned, his mouth a perfect O. His eyes shuttered as he ended with a grunt of satisfaction. His head fell back against the settee and he smiled weakly at her.
She leaned over and kissed him, savoring the salty taste of his soft lips and the masculine scent of him. This would be the time to tell him her emotions; his poems already spoke for him.
“You are a remarkable man, Julian.”
“I hope you think so in fifty years.”
“When we’re wrinkled and gray?”
“Yes,” he said as he straightened his clothing. “I want you to always think well of me.”
“I do, in fact—”
A knock on the door interrupted her declaration. She jumped to her feet and glanced at the mantle clock. “Whatever was I thinking? Violet and Rune are due at four-thirty.” She straightened her own costume as she hurried to the door and unlocked it, relieved when no one entered. It must have been a discreet warning. “What will people think of us, acting thus?” Heading for a mirror, she checked her chignon and found only a few strands undone.
Julian appeared behind her as she replaced a hairpin, and he placed his hands lightly on her waist. “They’ll think we’re falling in love.” He turned her to face him, and she opened her mouth to tell him her thoughts. He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, and she forgot what her thoughts were. “They’ll think me the luckiest man on earth.”
A noise in the hallway disturbed them, and he growled at the intrusion. “I want to spend months alo
ne with you.” He gave her a quick kiss. “Perhaps we could sail the world on our honeymoon.”
Violet and Rune shared the appearance of an enthralled couple falling in love, and Julian smiled as he watched them mimic him and Cathryn. Each time he kissed Cat’s fingers, Rune kissed Violet’s within the minute. A caress of her cheek, a hand on her knee, an arm behind her to pull her closer, all mirrored back at him. Julian wondered vaguely what would happen if he started taking serious liberties, but he was well satisfied by their recent encounter. His goal was to please Cathryn in any way he could, not embarrass her.
Violet gazed at Rune with a look Julian recognized. “I can’t say I regret missing the mob. We had a perfectly wonderful day in the country.” Smitten.
“Violet shared some of her puzzles with me,” said Rune with pride. “I enjoyed them immensely.”
The redhead colored and shook her head as if to deny him, but Cathryn chimed in, “Oh, Rune, you should publish them. I know most of the ladies at church would purchase a copy. Her puzzles are the only stimulation some of them receive each week.”
“She says she has two hundred done.”
“I should like to see these puzzles,” said Julian, a bit annoyed at Violet’s reticence. He didn’t like feeling the odd man out.
“We left them at the townhouse,” Violet said, discomfited. “Truly, they are trivial compared to Cat’s works.”
Julian swelled with pride. He finally understood her reluctance to share what were clearly inferior offerings in the face of Cathryn’s accomplishments. “The Greek poetesses are extraordinary.” He faced Cathryn and his heart leapt at the joy in her eyes. “I believe them worthy for sponsorship to the Philological Society, if you would like to apply for membership.” It was the simple truth.
Cathryn’s jaw dropped and tears sprang to her eyes. “You would admit me?”
He hadn’t given this careful thought, but the concept appealed to him. “I would favor your application, yes.” His chest filled with emotion as he considered what this must mean to her. “You would need an independent sponsor—Waldemere, perhaps. His wife is a fine poet. I imagine she might be keen on membership.”
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