After Forever, A Whisper of Scandal Novel

by Julie Johnstone

  A simple chignon would make many women look dowdy but not Julianna. Her upswept hair exposed her long slender neck and her creamy skin beckoned like a siren song. A few coppery tendrils of her silky hair curled against her neck and made him long to wrap the glistening strands around his finger and tug her near. The white muslin gown she wore dipped low on her breasts, just enough for him to imagine slipping a finger underneath the material and tugging it low to caress her and lavish kisses on her milky skin and rosy nipples.

  A bolt of desire shot through him. He had to get control. The objective of the next several weeks was to make her realize she could not resist her attraction to him, not scare her because of his mounting need for her.

  “You’re early,” he said, moving toward her and proffering his elbow.

  “Yes, I―”

  “I’m glad,” he inserted, beginning his assault on her defenses immediately. “You look lovely.” She looked breathtaking. Astounding. Like a painting by a great artist, but saying all that would likely send her scurrying in the other direction. As it was, her hand was clutching her parasol so tightly that her knuckles were white. Nash moved away slightly to give her some space to feel safe.

  “I see you brought your sunshade. Were you thinking we’d have our lesson out of doors?”

  “Yes. The day is quite lovely, but if you prefer in here…”

  “No.” Outside, they would be alone. It was perfect. “I’m stuck inside too much, as it is. It will be quite nice to take some fresh air with you. You and Maggie can have your lesson outside today if you wish it, as well.”

  A genuine smile lit her face, and he found himself grinning in return. “Shall we?”

  When she nodded her agreement, he led them through the corridor toward the picture gallery where double doors exited into the garden. He didn’t speak, enjoying the echo of their matched footsteps against the marble floor and savoring the feel of her hand resting trustingly on his arm. As they entered the portrait gallery, she paused and frowned, glancing at the mostly bare walls and then around the room, before her gaze rested on him. A line appeared between Julianna’s brows as she glanced at Esther’s painting. “I assumed you didn’t know your parents since you were raised in an orphan house.”

  “I didn’t. That’s not my blood mother, though she most certainly is my real mother.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Esther called at his back.

  Nash turned and grinned at Esther. He had no doubt she’d been lurking in the shadows, waiting for her chance to meet Julianna and decide if she thought Julianna was worthy of tutoring Maggie. There was no doubt in his mind that Esther, with her formidable looks and keen mind, would have been a stalwart duchess had she been born of the ton and not of the slums. He hoped Julianna liked her, because if she did not, it would really be a disturbance in his plan to make Julianna his. Esther would always be with him, if she wanted to be.

  Esther marched up to them and shoved her hands to her hips, giving Julianna a narrow-eyed look. “You must be the new tutor.”

  Julianna dropped into a curtsy that left Nash with a slack jaw. As he clamped his mouth shut, he noted with amusement that Esther shared his shock. Julianna was above Esther’s rank and should not have curtsied, but he suspected she was trying to show Esther deference. The kind gesture only proved he was making the right decision pursuing her. She’d make a fine mother for Maggie and teach her proper values for all human life.

  Julianna came up and withdrew her arm from Nash. She stepped close to Esther and placed her hand on the woman’s arm. “I would never presume to take on this position without your help and guidance. You know both of my pupils far better than I do, and you have done an excellent job teaching them to be good people. Would you be so kind as to help me?”

  Esther’s eyes softened and a rare smile played at her lips. “I’ll help you with the young miss. I’ve done all I can for this one.” Esther motioned to him. “He rarely listens to me.”

  Nash started to protest, but Julianna shot him a pleading look that Esther seemed not to notice. He liked that Julianna was worried about Esther’s feelings. All the other ladies who had come to interview for the position had acted somewhat disdainful of Esther when they learned she was no relation to him.

  “Take, for example, this portrait gallery,” Esther continued, bringing Nash’s attention back to her. “I told him, as did the architect, that he was daft for creating a portrait gallery when he had no family paintings to put in it, but would he listen?”

  “I do believe it’s safe to say he would not,” Julianna answered with a chuckle.

  Esther quirked her eyebrows. “Don’t you think it was a daft idea?”

  Julianna’s gaze came to his, and it appeared frank and rather admiring. He had the urge to blink to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was, but he didn’t want to look away from her beautiful eyes.

  “I do not think having a portrait gallery built for this home was a daft idea at all,” she said in a thoughtful tone. “I think it rather brave of Nash to have the hope that someday his gallery will be filled with family pictures, and I think it rather admirable that he has the fortitude to stick to what he wants, even when someone he so obviously loves and admires disagrees with him. I do hope I haven’t offended you by saying so, Mrs.―”

  “Esther. Call me Esther, and you haven’t offended me.”

  Nash studied Julianna as Esther prattled to her about different things Maggie had already learned regarding etiquette. He could care for Julianna if she would let him. He felt it deep within, in a place he hadn’t allowed to open since he was younger and had still held out hope that someday one or both of his parents would come to find him. His heart ached painfully as he looked at her. She fluttered her hands in the air as she talked, and her lavender scent floated around her. The dimples that flashed in her cheeks showed her smile was genuine, and her eyes radiated her inner kindness.

  Oh yes. He could care for this woman with all the pent-up years of longing he had stored in him, but the question was, would she even want that from him? He would see eventually.

  Maybe.

  And if she vowed there would never be room in her heart for another man even after he wooed her and hopefully made her realize she could not deny her desire for him, then he would be happy with passion, because it was so much more than he had hoped for.

  Julianna’s heart fluttered violently as Nash led her out of the portrait gallery and into the bright, sunny garden. There was not one simple thing she could pinpoint that made him so interesting and enticing to her. It was a combination of things that entranced her―such as the heat he radiated that singed the hand she had on his elbow. It was also his obviously big heart. Any man who employed former street urchins to give them a better life, as Esther had just revealed, was a man to be admired. The hard, unyielding bulge of his bicep muscles also made him rather admirable―in a completely different way, of course. The thought almost made her falter in her step.

  Heavens, she was becoming wicked of mind. Nash deserved to find a good wife and mother for his daughter as he wanted, and she was determined to help him do exactly that. So it was imperative that things between them remain strictly professional.

  To that end, touching him was probably not a good idea. Reluctantly, she pulled her hand away from him and swept it toward the beautiful maze in the middle of his gardens. “Let us stroll as I teach you.”

  “What’s my first lesson?” he asked as they walked toward the maze entrance. His voice was low and tinged with sinful suggestion.

  A little shiver raced across Julianna’s skin. She tried to ignore it. “Well, since you plan to attend the Duke and Duchess of Primwitty’s ball in several weeks, and I feel certain you will meet a lady you wish to call on, why don’t we start with paying calls, as I’ve already seen first hand you know how to act properly around a lady.”

  “All right. I suppose we should really play the parts if the lesson is to be genuine.”

  Juliann
a frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean we should pretend we met each other at the ball and are interested in each other and that I have come to call on you.”

  Was it her imagination or had his voice dropped even lower and become more suggestive? “That seems like a good plan.” Thank goodness her voice came out steady and not wobbly like she felt inside.

  Nash gestured to a gazebo that housed a lovely white bench with a wrought-iron arch over it. Lush greenery covered the arch and nearly concealed the bench from every side. It seemed almost like a secret space.

  “Do you want to sit there?” Nash asked. “We can pretend it’s a settee in a parlor.”

  Julianna nodded, and as she walked over to the bench her heart started beating loudly in her ears. Nash’s voice cut through the thumping noise.

  “Are you ready?”

  She nodded and held in a bark of laughter as he walked stiffly toward her with his nose raised just a bit in the air and his shoulders squared back. He looked exactly like her butler when the man announced callers, but there was no way Nash could know what her butler looked like. Still, she was sure he was mimicking a butler. “Are you pretending to be the butler?”

  He winked. “I’m pleased my acting skills are not so shabby that you failed to recognize what I was doing.”

  “Is that how you see all butlers?”

  “All but my own,” he replied. “And it’s not how I see them, it’s how they treat me when they realize there is not the title of ‘Lord’ in front of my name.”

  Julianna’s heart ached for him. He’d offered a nonchalant shrug with his words, but the revelation itself was a window to the pain other people must have caused him. Oh, how she hated her class sometimes. As if a person could really be judged good or bad based on their money and title. She knew plenty of awful lords and ladies who had more money than they could ever spend and more titles than they could even remember, but none of them had a whit of compassion. Suddenly, she didn’t want to teach Nash to be like men of the ton. He was perfect the way he was. Yet, she would instruct him because she knew that was what he wanted.

  She folded her hands in her lap and gazed up at him, praying the admiration she felt for him shined in her eyes and would give him confidence, if he ever should feel the hand of doubt press down on him. She dare not comment, for she was certain he’d not meant to reveal his inner heart to her. “Mr. Wolverton, how lovely for you to call, though I just finished breaking my fast.”

  “You’re eating rather late, are you not?” he asked staring down at her.

  “No. It’s ten in the morning.”

  “Ah, my dear. I fear your clock is broken. I would never call before the customary hour of three.”

  She was pleased and surprised he knew calling hours in London were from three to six. “It must be my clock,” she murmured and pretended to examine a non-existent calling card.

  He watched her for a long moment, and then he said, “Is my card hard to read?”

  She squinted, fighting a smile. This was fun. She could not imagine any other man of her acquaintance going along with a pretend calling lesson. Then again, it had been Nash’s idea that they truly play the parts. The man was full of surprises. “What manner of engraving is this? Is this Gothic or Roman letters?”

  “Neither. It’s Italian.”

  Yet another thing he already knew. This time she did smile. “Excellent. Please, do sit.”

  He lowered himself beside her very close, but not so close that their legs touched. It was perfectly proper, yet somehow felt perfectly scandalous. He stretched his long legs out in front of him and crossed his ankles while folding his arms over his chest. His gaze captured her, and she felt wonderfully trapped by the intensity shining in his smoky blue eyes. “I enjoyed dancing with you last night, Julianna.”

  The way he rolled her name off his tongue made her toes curl in her slippers. She pressed her hands to her cheeks to ward off the blush already heating her skin. “You mustn’t call a lady by her first name, unless given leave.”

  “But you gave me permission, remember?”

  “Yes, of course.” Had he moved nearer to her? She blinked, her thoughts feeling rather fuzzy. “I am just reminding you.”

  He tapped his temple. “I don’t forget things. I have an excellent memory.”

  “Do you? What do you remember of our dance last night?” She felt giddy playing this part―happy. Heavens, but she’d not been happy in so long.

  “I remember you smell of lavender and have skin like the finest silk. You tilt your head to the right when wary, and you feel other people’s pain deeply. Your eyes shimmer with unshed tears when one accidentally reveals a weakness.”

  Were they still playacting? It seemed as if he were actually speaking of things he thought about her. “That’s an awful lot you learned during our dance, Mr. Wolverton.”

  “Nash, remember?” He grasped a lock of her hair and wound it around his fingers.

  “You shouldn’t do that,” she whispered, unable to make her voice come out with more conviction.

  “I shouldn’t?” His question held a note of mischievousness.

  She shook her head. “It’s not proper to touch a lady until there is an agreement of some sort, like a betrothal.”

  He smiled slowly. “Do you mean to honestly tell me no lady of the ton wishes to be touched by the man she admires unless there is a betrothal agreement?”

  “No lady looking for a husband,” she replied, her cheeks burning when she realized what she had just uttered aloud.

  “Well, I’m looking for a wife,” he said in a husky voice. “Does that count?”

  She felt unable to speak as his hand came to her face and grazed down the right side before he traced the pad of his thumb over her lips. She should protest. She should knock his hand away. Most definitely she should tell him he could not do that when calling on ladies he wanted to marry for they might think he was a scoundrel―deliciously, sinfully rakish and trying to seduce them, not marry them. Heavens, but it was hot outside. She barely resisted the urge to fan herself.

  He slid his hands to her shoulders, then grazed his fingers teasingly over her collarbone to linger at the hollow, pulsing space in the middle. His gaze flicked to hers and the caress of it almost made her groan. His finger pressed gently against the beat of her heart that pulsed against her skin. “What are you looking for, Julianna?”

  Her thoughts spun in her head as her body tingled. Being so near to him made it very hard to think properly. She was not looking for a husband, but she wasn’t yet looking for a lover, and even if she were, she should not look at him. Still, she was staring at him―his gaze understanding, compelling, and beckoning.

  “I’m so confused,” she mumbled, only realizing she’d voiced her thoughts aloud when a devilish smile graced his lips.

  His face came a hairbreadth from hers as his hands twined through her hair, and his fingers spread over the base of her skull. “Then by all means let me help you understand what you’re feeling.”

  The fire that lit his eyes alarmed and thrilled her at once. She opened her mouth to protest, but as she did, his mouth slanted over hers, and this time the kiss held nothing gentle and everything demanding, illicit, and drugging. His hot, slick tongue slid over hers and around it. Instead of retreating, as she should have, she pressed closer and touched her tongue with his. Tiny shivers raced over her skin leaving every part of her sensitive, so that when his chest crushed against hers, her body ached with the contact and friction.

  She threaded her hands into his hair and tugged him closer, wanting to lose herself in him. His hands crested her shoulders, kneading and massaging. They trailed lower, over the curves of her breasts. His fingers stroked the material over her taut nipples, and the little control she clung to slipped. She threw her head back and moaned. Suddenly, his mouth suckled her neck as a growl emanated from him.

  What he was doing with his mouth… Well, she’d never experienced such a thing. He
sucked and pulled in long, warm strokes. She could not wrench her senses together under his assault.

  His tongue flicked gently over the lobe of her ear.

  “Julianna, tell me you want me as much as I want you.”

  Oh dear heaven, she did, but she should not. She had to form a coherent sentence. Had to. “You must have a wife.”

  He stilled, and his hands cupped either side of her face, his heart thumping against her. “You could fill that position.”

  The primal need in his voice was a raw, rough sound she had long ago dreamed of hearing from a man’s lips. About her. To her. Pleading for her. “I don’t want a husband.”

  “Not yet,” he growled and started to kiss her again, silencing her argument. She pressed her hand against his chest, aware she did not want to mislead him.

  “Nash―”

  “Papa!”

  The call of his daughter came from somewhere nearby and sent Julianna scrambling to her feet just as the little girl rounded the corner, her cheeks rosy and eyes sparkling.

  “Papa,” she squealed and dashed toward Nash’s legs. She hugged him ferociously and then surprised Julianna by throwing herself at Julianna’s legs and squeezing, too. “Grandmother says it’s surely time for my lessons and that I was to come find you, Lady Barrows.”

  Julianna’s embarrassment was forgotten momentarily under a tide of warm feelings for the sweet child staring up at her. “Yes, my dear, it surely is time for your lesson.”

  The child slipped her hand into Julianna’s. “What will you teach me today?”

  Julianna thought quickly. She needed to put space between her and Nash and keep it firmly there for the rest of the day, until she was sure she would not forget herself around him again. “Today I will teach you how to properly eat scones and cakes and drink tea. How does that sound?”

  “Wonderful,” the child crooned. “Shall Papa learn with us?”

  “I’ve learned all I need to today,” he said in the most roguish voice. A blush seared Julianna’s cheeks, and she forced herself to meet his gaze. A knowing smile played at his lips.