Her eyes looked greenish, which was no surprise. After many hours of observation and analysis, James had finally puzzled out the mystery of Juliana's changeable irises: They were more blue when she was happy or aroused, more green when she was worried or angry. Right now he guessed she was rather distressed, which put their hue in the latter range.
The distress was a good sign. It wouldn't be long now before she figured out she'd be much happier with him than with Castleton. If his plans for this evening were realized, her eyes would be blue before he was finished. Deep, deep blue.
"Everyone will be back soon," he said. "Lady Frances and Lord Malmsey will find the others."
"They aren't looking for them. They're off somewhere kissing."
"Really?" he said, reaching a hand to help her rise. "I guess we should go look for Castleton and Lady Amanda ourselves, then."
"Yes, we should," she said. "You're supposed to be with Lady Amanda."
Having seen where her friend and the ass had gone, James led Juliana along a path in the opposite direction, which, happily, was the direction he wanted to take her. Trees lined both sides of the meandering gravel walkway, their leaves shimmering and fluttering overhead. The sun was dropping toward the horizon, making the walled garden shady and romantic.
The ambiance couldn't have been better.
"I don't see them," Juliana said after they wandered a few minutes in companionable silence. "I cannot imagine where they might have disappeared to."
"Me, neither," James said, taking her hand. She'd left her gloves on the blanket, and her fingers felt warm in his, especially compared to the air. Juliana was wearing a rather thin dress, and with the sun setting, it was getting a bit chilly. "Maybe they're in this greenhouse," he suggested, leading her off the path. "They might have gone inside to warm up."
"This greenhouse is warm," she said when they entered. Due to the abundance of glass, it was nearly as light inside as out. "It feels wonderful in here."
"I understand this was the first heated greenhouse in all of England," he told her, "and maybe the first in the whole world." He coaxed her between the rows of plants toward the back wall. "Hans Sloane wrote about this greenhouse back in 1684, marveling about the cleverness of putting ovens beneath the floor." Stopping before a door marked private, he reached for the knob.
"What are you doing?" she asked. "I don't think we're supposed to go in there."
"Maybe Castleton is in there with Lady Amanda."
"I think not." Still holding his hand, she pulled him away from the door. "Amanda would never go into a room alone with him. She's much too reserved for that."
"She was in a room alone with me," he reminded her. "Lord Billingsgate's library. She even tried to kiss me."
Her cheeks flushed a becoming pink. "That's because she wants to marry you."
Thinking it was too bad Lady Amanda didn't want to marry the ass instead, he reached again for the knob. "Maybe your aunt and Lord Malmsey are in there," he suggested, "kissing."
The pink deepened. Her eyes were back to blue-green. She pulled on his hand again. "I don't think—" she started, and then she gave a little shriek when he opened the door.
Smiling, he stepped inside. "They're not in here. Come in and see, sw—"
Damn. He'd almost called her sweetheart again.
Luckily, she was so concerned about trespassing, she didn't notice. After peeking her head in, she breathed a sigh of relief. "We're not supposed to be in here, James. The door is marked private."
"It's Thomas Wheeler's office," he said with a shrug. "The Demonstrator who went home earlier. He's a friend; he wouldn't mind." He tugged on her hand. "Come in, Juliana."
Reluctantly, she came inside. "It is private."
It was a tiny cubby, with a compact desk against the inside wall and a small round wooden table with two chairs in the center. "The table is for demonstrations," he explained. "Private demonstrations." The exterior wall was glass, of course, it being part of the greenhouse. But trees grew so closely all around that no one could possibly see in, and plenty of light filtered in through the leaves and the glass ceiling overhead.
He shut the door, shutting them off from the world.
She whirled to face him, dropping his hand. "What are you doing, James?"
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the deck of cards. "Since we can't seem to find our companions, I remembered I wanted you to teach me to play casino," he said casually. "It's cold out there and warm in here, so I thought it might be nice to sit a while and play cards."
She eyed him warily, her gaze still blue-green. "Maybe for a minute."
"Excellent." He sat and waved her toward the second chair. After she sat, he slid his chair around the table and up against hers.
Taking the cards, she frowned. "You're supposed to sit across from me."
"I will after I learn. Right now I need to see your cards."
"Very well." When she shuffled the cards, he could feel the vibrations. They were that close. She dealt out four cards to each of them and four more faceup on the table, then put the rest aside. "Pick up your hand," she instructed, "and see if any of your cards match the ones on the table." Then she proceeded to explain all the rules, none of which he bothered listening to, since he already knew how to play casino.
As she talked and moved the cards around, he noticed her wheaten hair shining in the waning sunlight and thought about how much he wanted to see it slip from its pins. He leaned even closer to smell it, inhaling sunshine and flowers. He rubbed his shoulder against her arm and watched her eyes turn a little bluer. He pressed his thigh up against her thin skirts.
"Are you listening, James? Did you get all of that?"
"Of course." It was a very simple game, really. At least for him. He and his brother had kept a running score for years, and he'd always stayed miles ahead. "I think I'm ready to play now."
"All right." She gathered the cards and began reshuffling them. "You can move to the other side of the table."
"I'd rather stay here for the first couple of hands. In case I need your help. By the way, what shall we wager?"
"Wager? We don't need to wager."
"I never play games without a wager. A wager makes it much more interesting and fun."
"Is that so?" She stopped shuffling and slanted him a sideways glance. "I heard about how Griffin lost thirty guineas to you last month playing chess. I have no money."
"We'll wager something else, then," he said blithely.
"Like what?" She turned to him, looking wary again. But her eyes weren't turning green. They were staying rather blue. Amused, he ran a finger down her arm and watched them get even bluer.
"How about buttons?" he suggested.
"Buttons? We didn't bring buttons."
"We have buttons on our clothes. When one of us loses, he or she can unbutton a button."
Chapter Thirty-Five
Juliana was scandalized. Absolutely, positively scandalized. She'd never heard of wagering buttons. Amanda would faint dead away if James ever suggested wagering buttons with her. The mere idea seemed wicked and immoral and sinful and…
Tempting.
Dear heavens, it was tempting. It would teach James a lesson, that was for certain. After all, he was sure to lose, given that he didn't know how to play the game and he'd been daydreaming while she'd explained it to him. Daydreaming and touching her, making her stumble over her words. If she agreed, he would lose, and then he'd know not to wager buttons with Amanda. It was very, very tempting to say yes.
She did enjoy seeing James with his buttons unbuttoned. And since she was certain to win, she wouldn't have to unbutton any of her own. The whole thing could turn out to be rather pleasurable and amusing. And James would learn a lesson.
"All right," she said, "we'll wager buttons."
James looked surprised, but very pleased. After that, everything started happening rather quickly. His fingers went immediately to his neckcloth, working the knot.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Exposing my buttons. Go ahead and deal." He all but ripped off his tailcoat and dropped it to the floor. "Deal, Juliana."
She dealt. They picked up their cards. James spread his and smiled. "I go first—is that right?" She nodded, and he plucked a king from his hand and used it to claim the king on the table. "Aha," he said. "You have to unbutton a button."
"You haven't won yet!" she protested. "That was just a single trick." Anyone could win a trick; the real skill was winning the whole game. "Were you not listening, James? We have to play until all the cards are gone, and then we add up the points, and whoever has the most points wins. Then somebody unbuttons a button."
She'd almost said then you unbutton a button, but she'd stopped herself in time. Although she was going to win, there was no reason to sound smug about it.
"Oh, no," he said. "We don't have time for that. We're playing for only a few minutes, remember? It's getting dark, and we'll have to leave. We're wagering a button for each trick."
"We are not! We're wagering a button for each game."
"We don't have time to play more than one game. A Chase promise is never broken, remember? You promised you'd wager buttons, Juliana. Unbutton a button."
"Honestly, this is ridiculous." She'd never promised she'd wager buttons. Not exactly. But she didn't want to argue or look petulant, so she reached behind her back and unbuttoned a button, knowing James wouldn't win many more tricks. "There. Are you happy now? It's my turn." She took an eight out of her hand and claimed a seven and an ace with it, smiling because an ace was worth an extra point. "I took a trick," she said. "Unbutton."
James didn't seem at all reluctant to unbutton the top button of his shirt. He pulled a ten from his hand and took the ten of diamonds, which was worth two extra points. "I think you should unbutton two buttons," he said, grinning.
"I think not," she said, amazed that he'd remembered the value of that card when from all she could tell he hadn't even listened to her instructions. "When I took the ace, you unbuttoned only one button, same as I did when you took the first trick, which had no extra points. Each trick is worth only one button, no matter how many points it contains."
"Wrong," he said, flicking open another of his buttons. "There, now I've unbuttoned two buttons for your extra-point trick. And you owe me three buttons for my trick with the ten of diamonds."
"I cannot reach that many of my buttons," she said petulantly, even though she hadn't wanted to sound petulant.
He smiled, a very smug smile. "You poor thing. I'll unbutton them for you." And he reached behind her back and unbuttoned three buttons.
"Really, James, this is very childish." Since there were no cards left on the table, she plucked one from her hand and set it down faceup without even looking at it. Which was a mistake, because it turned out to be the two of spades, which was also worth an extra point.
James wasted no time taking it with the two of hearts. "Two buttons," he said with a grin.
"How did you remember the two of spades was worth an extra point?" she said slowly, and that's when she realized the truth. She turned to him, outraged. "You already knew how to play casino, didn't you?"
His grin widened as he unbuttoned two more of her buttons. "I never said I didn't."
Her dress was all unbuttoned down the back now. "You asked me to teach you!"
"Exactly. But I never said I didn't know how to play." His eyes gleaming, he watched her draw another card from her hand. "Too bad there's nothing on the table to match with that," he drawled as she tossed it down. "I don't have to unbutton any more buttons. On the other hand…" His last card matched that one, and he used it to claim it. "You owe me another button."
"You tricked me," she said. "After you got all mad at me for tricking you."
"Come, Juliana. This is a game. It's not at all the same as trying to trick someone into marriage."
He was right about that. Drat. Right enough to make her feel guilty. Right enough to make her drop that argument like a hot poker.
She set down her last card, grabbed the deck, and dealt them each four more cards. "I don't have any more buttons."
"Hmm." He set down a six. "Then I think you owe me a kiss instead."
"I do not." Drat, none of her new cards matched anything on the table. She had two aces in her hand and had to risk one if she wanted a chance to win both. She chose one and tossed it down. "It's your turn."
"An ace," he mused, "imagine that." He swept both it and the six up with a seven. "Two more points," he said with another smile. "Added to the button you haven't unbuttoned yet, that makes three."
"I have no more buttons," she reminded him. "And I'm not kissing you. What are you going to do," she added dryly, "open up my dress a little more by ripping it?"
"What an interesting idea," he said slowly. "I should have thought of that myself. But no, I don't think I'll rip it. I think your aunt might notice that."
And then his whole demeanor changed. His smile disappeared as he set his cards facedown on the table. He reached out and drew her loosened dress down her shoulders, leaving her breasts covered by only her filmy chemise.
"You owe me three kisses, Juliana," he said softly, gazing at them in a most arousing way.
Her skin prickled, and her nipples puckered, even though it was very warm in the greenhouse. "I do not."
"I think you do." He didn't sound smug now; he sounded raspy and seductive instead. His voice was making her lose her head. He skimmed his fingers along her face and down her neck almost to her cleavage, making her shiver. "I think you do, Juliana," he said in that low, chocolatey tone. "I think you owe me three kisses."
Dear heavens, she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted to kick herself for wanting him to kiss her, but she wanted him to kiss her nonetheless. Suddenly all she could think of was yesterday's kisses under the stairs, and she wanted him to kiss her in the worst way.
And touch her breasts, like he had yesterday, too. She wanted him to touch her in the worst way. With his hands and his mouth, like he'd done yesterday, only it had happened so quickly she'd hardly had a chance to enjoy it.
And she wanted to touch him. She wanted to touch him in the worst way. Despite herself, despite how he'd tricked her into it, she leaned closer and raised a hand to the little V of skin where he'd opened his measly two buttons.
A faint smile curving his lips, he moved closer. And closer still. Until she could feel his breath on her mouth where she wanted his kiss. "May I kiss you now?" he asked.
Why was he asking? Why didn't he just go ahead and kiss her? He'd done the same thing at Vauxhall Gardens and in the Panorama, asking her permission, making her agree.
She wished he'd just kiss her instead of asking, because she knew she should say no, but she couldn't help herself. She wanted James, and she wanted to kiss him, and she wanted to kick herself for being too weak to say no.
"May I?" he pressed. He was so close, there hardly seemed to be space to breathe between them. "May I kiss you now? Please let me kiss you, Juliana. I want to kiss you in the worst way."
In the worst way, just like she wanted. "Yes," she breathed. God help her, she said, "Yes, please kiss me."
And he did. His mouth crossed that last little space and settled on hers, and he proceeded to kiss her senseless. Positively senseless. The cards fluttered from her hand to the floor. Her senses began swirling, whirling, as she parted her lips and invited him in. His tongue swept her mouth, and she ached, positively ached, in her throat and her heart and, most curiously, in a place between her legs.
Still kissing her, he managed to maneuver her sideways onto his lap. She sighed and leaned into him, wrapping an arm around his neck, kissing him, kissing him. "I want to kiss you here," he whispered, trailing little kisses down her throat on his way to her cleavage. "I want to kiss you here, in the worst way."
Loving it, loving him, she tilted her head back to give him better access. And then his mouth was on a breast
like she'd wanted, first kissing her through her chemise and then under it. He opened his mouth and drew in the crest, and dear heavens, it felt marvelous. Like a wanton, she arched her back, offering her breasts, offering herself, hoping he'd keep kissing them and do even more.
What she meant by more, she wasn't sure, but that curious ache between her legs was growing stronger. Stronger and hotter, more insistent. Dear heavens, she loved him. She knew she couldn't, knew she shouldn't, but she loved him nonetheless. And when he began caressing her, stroking her waist, her hips, her thighs, God knew she loved that, too.
And then his hand was underneath her dress, and he was stroking her thighs some more. Kissing her breasts and stroking her thighs, making her head swim. Making her heart pound and her breath come in little gasps. He abandoned her breast to recapture her lips, and her senses were spinning out of control. He was kissing her, stroking her, exploring her mouth with his tongue, and that curious ache between her legs was growing insistent to the point of being unbearable.
And then his hand skimmed the curls that guarded that ache, lightly, lightly, and he broke the kiss.
"Can I touch you here, Juliana? Can I touch you here?"
Dear heavens, why was he asking? She was gasping so quickly she could barely breathe, let alone talk. The ache was becoming so exquisite it seemed to be robbing her of speech.
She managed to nod, and he captured her mouth again, his tongue tangling with hers in a dance while his fingers danced below, parting her thighs and finally, finally touching her where she ached. A gentle slide of his fingers, just once, because once was all it took. He found a spot so sweet it made the breath catch in her throat, and she tumbled over a precipice, swirling, whirling, falling into pleasure fiercer than she'd ever known.
He kissed her and kissed her while she calmed, and then he kissed her again, and her head began to clear.
Dear heavens, what had she done? What had she allowed him to do? He was supposed to marry Amanda. He had to marry Amanda, or Aunt Frances would be devastated. He'd touched her in a place he should touch only Amanda, and even that only after they were married. And she'd not only let him touch her—she'd all but asked. Or rather, he'd asked her, but she hadn't hesitated to allow it. She'd nodded and kissed him, all but begging him to touch her where no man had touched her before.
My Favorite Rogue: 8 Wicked, Witty, and Swoon-worthy Heroes Page 33