“I…well…yes. Yes, I am.”
“You thought me uneducated?”
Her hand fluttered to her neck. “I suppose I assumed, but I don’t really know you, do I?”
“No, you don’t.” And he didn’t really know her, but he wanted to very much. With every second that passed, that want grew. Soon it would be unbearable. “I think it is inevitable that we get to know each other a bit.”
She toyed with a ribbon hanging from her dress for a moment, making him wonder if she was going to respond. Finally, she gave him a shy look. Had she given that same wonderfully inviting look to her first husband when they had begun their courtship? There was that ridiculous jealousy of a dead man again.
“Of course. You’re right. It is inevitable,” she agreed.
He had to clench his teeth to keep from grinning. He felt as if he’d just won the hardest match he’d ever fought, and his prize was Julianna’s willingness to let down her guard just a bit. “So you told Trevelle no, and then felt you had no choice but to seek employment?”
“Yes, I suppose that sums it up.”
“I’m terribly sorry.” Many in the ton would look down on her once word circulated that she had taken employment, and the idea that anyone should treat her with less respect than she deserved made him angry.
“There’s no need for apologies. The idea of working and having a completely fresh start actually appeals to me very much.”
Her admission made his breath bottle up in his chest. He forced himself to exhale. “You’re not worried what others will say about you, possibly to you?”
“No. I’m more worried about failing to earn a living and having to marry again.”
“So you will marry if you cannot earn enough to live on?”
Her jaw hardened, and he suspected she was grinding her teeth. They sat in silence for a moment before she spoke. “I’m hoping that if I do a good job for you, it will lead to another employment opportunity, but if it doesn’t work that way, then yes, I’ll have to set my feelings aside and marry to support Liza. So, Nash, tell me exactly what it is you want from me.”
That was a dangerous question if ever there was one. He wished he bloody well knew what he wanted from her. He was having wild thoughts. Crazy ones. About courting her. Caressing her. Breaking down all her barriers and showing her that perhaps she could want marriage again with the right man or, better yet, the wrong man―a man exactly like him.
He needed a wife and damned if she didn’t seem to be the perfect candidate. To know―to really know―he needed to test the water, or rather her lips. A simple kiss could tell him all. Was it dangerous to play such a game or was it foolish in the extreme not to try?
He shifted in his seat, his blood coursing almost painfully through his veins. “I want my first lesson, of course. Assuming your instruction takes the better part of the next month, I’ll pay you five hundred pounds if that’s acceptable?”
A hiss of breath escaped her. “That’s too much.”
Not to him. He wanted to give her some stability and time, and that amount would not even nick his fortune. “Are you implying you are not worth it?”
“No, no. I’m worth it.”
“Perfect. Then we’re in agreement.”
“What would you like to work on first?”
“Kissing.”
Her lips parted, but she quickly closed them. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me,” he said, memorizing the way she tilted her head to the right and furrowed her brow when she was wary.
“Why kissing?”
He plucked a nonexistent piece of lint from his trousers in an effort to appear indifferent. “I’ve been told I kiss with a great amount of passion. I’m convinced after hearing what you told me about not touching ladies in public or sitting to close to them, that my carnal urgings would frighten a proper lady. I need to be taught just how much to restrain myself. But if you’re not up to the task, I suppose I can hire another tutor for myself and you can simply instruct my daughter. Your pay will remain the same, so you need not be concerned about that. It’s entirely your decision.”
Julianna stilled, positive her heart must have stopped in her chest. He was trying to lure her into a seduction by challenging her. Her thoughts hurtled around in her head as if someone had shaken her senseless. Nash’s challenge to kiss him had suddenly struck her witless. Why else would she still be sitting here on this settee so close to this man who exuded a raw sort of masculinity? If she had any intelligence, she would jump up and storm out of the room or slap him across his face for his obvious disrespect. There wouldn’t be a better time than this moment to put him in his place. Or perhaps she should let him kiss her and prove his charms held no lure for her.
“Lock the door,” she said, shocked at the words coming from her lips.
Nash smiled in a wolfish way that told her he thought she was overcome by desire for him. The click of the lock reverberated through the room.
As he strode back toward her, her heart thundered in her ears. She couldn’t believe she was going to do this, but the man really did need to be knocked down a peg or two.
He sat and faced her, looking at her for a long moment before speaking. “Have you ever kissed any man other than your husband?”
“No,” she said through cold lips. She was starting to doubt her plan. There was an odd tingly feeling building in her stomach again, and it felt entirely too much like anticipation. She moved away from him a bit, but he came closer and slid his arm around her so that his powerful forearm pressed snugly against her back. His fingers curled gently around her shoulder and instantly started to rub in a slow, dizzying circle. His face came so near hers, she stared, mesmerized, at a very small, light scar near his upper right eye, wondering how he had come to get the wound.
He shifted a fraction closer, then spoke. “I’ll start very slow and gentle, so I don’t scare you.”
“I don’t scare easily,” she managed to reply. Though the way his warm breath had fanned her face when he spoke made her tremble.
He moved his hand slowly up her shoulder, his fingers caressing intimately through her hair and brushing across the length of her neck with a sort of reverence that shocked her. Strong fingers curled at the base of her skull and brought her face closer to his. She expected him to first give her a peck as Henry had often done before taking her mouth with more aggression and passion, which had often left her reeling to catch up to Henry’s obvious increasing desire.
Nash began rubbing his fingers in tiny circles, so that the slide of her hair against his fingertips hummed in her ears, and her scalp prickled in a manner that left her feeling drugged. He brought his lips to hers and brushed them softly over her sensitive skin in a long, sensual stroke that caused her lips to tingle like her head. She thought to lean back to take a deep, calming breath, but his fingers tightened their hold and his lips came to hers once again. Yet it was his tongue, not his lips, that made contact with her this time. It traced over the upper and then lower one.
Something inside of her constricted at her core, and she found herself pressing closer, wanting to feel more of what he could do with his lips. His mouth captured her upper lip again and pulled softly before moving to her lower lip to do the same. Suddenly, she felt her hands on his shoulders, curling against the corded muscles there. When had she raised her hands?
The thought fled as his mouth came fully over hers, hot, searing, and stoking a fire she had not realized had been ignited. Yet she could not deny in this moment that she burned. As his lips massaged hers, she moaned, and his tongue delved into her mouth to touch hers, beckoning her to let go, if only for a second. As their tongues swirled and she savored his taste and the heat of his mouth, she felt as if he were a drug that she wanted to drink her fill of. His kiss grew deeper, demanding her to reveal the secrets she had hidden within.
Things she had long wanted to do with Henry, but dared not, suddenly surfaced in her mind. She pulled away to trace Nash’s
full, soft lips with her tongue as he had done to her and then kissed her way across his whiskers to his neck.
Madness.
This was utter madness, yet she could not stop. She teased at his neck and then sucked with an eagerness that shamed and shocked her. His shoulders tensed under her fingertips, and the notion that she was causing this man to come undone made her blood sing. A deep groan came from him right before he pulled her head up and claimed her mouth for a ravishing kiss that sent her reeling.
His hands locked behind her back as he crushed her to his chest, and his heartbeat crashed against hers. “Julianna,” he groaned, breaking contact. “You’re unraveling me.”
“Mama!”
The door rattled, and then a knock came.
Julianna jerked back and gasped. The shock of what she had been actively and eagerly participating in came crashing over her. She jumped up on weak legs and stared down at Nash for one moment. His glistening gaze told her he knew how he’d affected her. She swept her trembling hands over her hair while trying to decide what to do. Lying, which she detested, seemed the only and the safest choice.
“You don’t kiss with too much passion at all.” Her words wobbled as she spoke. She took a deep breath and continued. “This is one lesson we can move on from. I’ll be departing now. You can expect me tomorrow at precisely ten, and we can work on conversing.”
“Sounds titillating.” Nash’s voice held the rumble of barely checked laughter.
The mere word titillating leaving his lips made her knees quake more. Blast the man. Julianna had to put a steadying hand on the settee. “Conversation is not meant to titillate,” she said, before striding to the door, desperate to escape the room and the man that had made her senses reel in a way Henry never had.
“Oh really,” Nash called behind her. “Then I’ve definitely been going about conversing in the wrong manner.”
She squared her shoulders, determined to show the blasted devil he’d not affected her one bit, but as she stepped into the corridor and glanced at the two little girls standing by a portrait of Audrey, Julianna cringed. She had been attempting to leave the home she was staying in. How utterly humiliating. She turned to demand he go and found him directly behind her―in kissing range. The errant thought made her grind her teeth. A knowing smile tugged at his lips. So help her, if he said one word to point out her ridiculousness―
“Come along, Maggie,” he crooned to his daughter while sidestepping Julianna. “It’s time for Papa’s nap.”
“But, Papa, you don’t nap,” the child responded, slipping her hand in Nash’s.
He boldly met Julianna’s gaze. “I will today, poppet. My lesson with Lady Barrows was quite exhausting. She’s a superb teacher.”
Julianna clenched her teeth so hard a sharp pain shot through her jaw, but as Nash led his daughter toward the front door, it was impossible not to stare in wonder at his powerful body. She could feel her anger being replaced by the far more dangerous emotion of desire.
She did not want to desire this man who exuded confidence with every move he made. Too much of it. From here on out, she had to make sure to keep things between them strictly business. No more kisses. Or touches. Or glances. Though glances really would be nearly impossible to avoid. If she looked down too much, she’d trip. No, she would definitely have to look at Nash, but that didn’t mean she had to appear friendly. She’d practice appearing frosty in the looking glass tonight. She snorted at her nonsensical train of thought. He’d reduced her to ridiculousness with one kiss.
Liza glanced up at her and smiled. “What is it, Mama?”
Julianna bent down and kissed her daughter on the head. “Nothing, darling. I was just thinking of something I need to practice. Shall we go take your nap?” Watching Liza fall asleep for her early-afternoon nap was one of Julianna’s favorite parts of her day.
Liza nodded and skipped down the hall toward the steps. She paused at the foot of the staircase. “I’m going to dream of apple tarts.” She took a big whiff of the air, which just so happened to be filled with the aromas of baking apples.
Smiling, Julianna came up beside her daughter and squeezed her shoulder. “That sounds perfect, darling.”
Liza scrambled halfway up the staircase, then paused and turned to look at Julianna who was coming up at a slower pace behind her. Liza’s forehead wrinkled as she glanced at Julianna. “Mama, what will you dream of?”
Julianna closed the distance between them and intertwined her fingers with her daughter’s soft, small ones, then gave her an encouraging pull to keep moving. As they ascended the remainder of the stairs, Julianna said, “I suspect I’ll dream of your father, as usual.”
Liza fell strangely quiet, but once Julianna had tucked her into her bed and lay beside her, she turned and laid her warm hand on Julianna’s cheek. “Mama, do you always dream of Papa?”
Julianna nodded while the familiar ache of loss that had been with her for so long hardened in her throat. She swallowed. “I suspect my mind does that, so I won’t forget him ever.”
“Makes sense,” Liza said with a yawn. “So do you dream of your papa, too? And your mama?”
Julianna stilled, turning the question over in her mind. “No, no, I don’t. I rarely dream of them.”
Liza’s eyes, which had closed, popped back open. “Does that mean you’ve forgotten them, Mama?”
The worry that creased Liza’s little face made Julianna’s heart twist. She hugged Liza close to her. “No, darling. I’ve not forgotten them. You can never forget someone you loved as much as I loved my parents or your father.”
Suddenly, her heart was racing as her words echoed in her ears. She would never forget Henry, no matter the years that had passed between the moment she had last smiled down at him and this very second. Her mind hummed as she lay there listening to the steady, deepening inhalations of her daughter’s breath as she fell asleep.
Julianna felt rooted to the bed. Her heart thudded in her ears, making her stomach flutter violently. She had been terrified that she would forget Henry if she didn’t go through life actively mourning him, but that just wasn’t so. What did this mean for her and her life going forward? She’d been so sure that to marry again would be to betray Henry’s plea that she never forget him, but she’d been wrong and too wrapped up in grieving to understand it until just now.
Could she marry again? Did she even want to? Warm tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes as she stared unseeingly up at the ceiling and faced one unchanged truth: she never wanted to fall in love again and open her heart to the sort of pain that came with losing such a deep love.
What did that leave her with? Eternal loneliness? Her chest tightened at the thought. If not the lonely widow, then who could she be? The widow who took a lover? How did one even go about finding a lover? The mere contemplation caused her cheeks to burn with embarrassment. The memory of the way Nash’s lips massaged hers sent her senses reeling once again and caused the burning of her cheeks to sweep over her entire body.
It was ridiculous even to consider such a thing. The man needed a wife, not a lover, and she had been employed to teach him how to be a proper gentleman so he could find a proper wife for himself and, in turn, a proper mother for his daughter. She didn’t need to lead him astray from such a noble undertaking―not that she could. Though, he really had acted as if he was trying to seduce her earlier. She squeezed her eyes shut, scandalized by her own thoughts and desperate to clear her mind of the preposterous notions tumbling in her head. Perhaps someday, many years from now, she would meet a gentleman who she fancied and then…
Blast! She punched her pillow. She did not know what came after then.
Oh heavens! She wished sleep would come. She was so confused. She could not imagine taking a lover, nor could she imagine taking a husband. That left loneliness. But then, of course, her heart would be safe.
Early the next morning Nash cursed as he yanked loose the cravat he’d just finished tying. He leaned close
r to the looking glass in his bedchamber while beads of sweat dampened his brow.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered again. His fingers were too clumsy to tie a perfect cravat. Normally, he wouldn’t bother with the damned contraption out here in the country and privacy of his home, but today was not a normal day. Julianna would be here in less than ten minutes to begin their lessons, and Nash wanted to look the part of a gentleman for her.
After that kiss yesterday, he knew exactly what he wanted, and it was Julianna as his wife. She’d shown she was an excellent mother, and the desire between them was like nothing he’d ever experienced. Until he’d kissed Julianna, he’d been so confident in his plan to become a proper gentleman to attract a suitable lady to be Maggie’s mother. He’d known his greatest asset was his money, and he’d concluded that the money, once he acquired the right manners, would bring him a well-bred, likely boring wife, that would do her duty to him and introduce Maggie to Society.
But when Julianna’s lips had touched his and her moan had caressed his ear, her hands clutching at his shoulders, he knew he had underestimated what he really wanted. Yes, he still desired a suitable wife, but it would be so much better to marry an appropriate wife with whom he shared passion. He hadn’t thought he really cared, but Julianna had made him realize he did―a great deal.
He wanted to desire his wife and have a wife who felt the same way for him, and with Julianna, need simmered between them whether she was prepared to admit it or not. Julianna had also stirred a longing in him to be wanted for more than his money―to be yearned for because of who he was and the feelings he elicited in a woman. Desire and convenience would make a much more solid and entertaining basis for a marriage than what he had previously planned.
Now all he had to do was make Julianna long for him so much that she wanted to marry him.
Satisfied with his conclusion, if not his lopsided cravat, he turned on his heel and strode out of the bedchamber and down the stairs. As he entered the foyer, Reed was leading Julianna through the front door. Nash’s breath snagged in his chest at the picture she presented.
After Forever, A Whisper of Scandal Novel Page 7