A Daring Arrangement

by Joanna Shupe

  A wildfire that reached all the way to London.

  A Moorish-style brick and terra cotta building, the Casino Theater had been the first establishment in New York City to build an outdoor theater on its roof. The above-ground breeze and charming setting—not to mention the stiff drinks—kept crowds returning, especially in the summer. Thankfully the owner had the foresight to partially enclose the roof with a glass ceiling, so the space was bearable even in February.

  Julius led Nora along the short promenade and past the fragrant flower beds to the rows of covered tables. The place was only about half-full, mostly male patrons wearing heavy overcoats. His fake fiancée had been uncharacteristically silent thus far, her shoulders stiff and unwelcoming. No idle chitchat, no orders. No questions about tonight or how they would shock New York society. Only silence.

  Strange.

  Unnerving how much he’d been looking forward to seeing her. Most thoughts had been centered on seduction, which had less to do with his plan to encourage a romance between them and more to do with repeating that kiss from the gardens. Had he imagined the passion between them? He didn’t believe so. The experience was burned into his memory, and he longed for one more taste of her.

  Perhaps this evening.

  The heavy black cape swirled around her as she walked, her head high and proud. This could be a drawing room in Mayfair for how she held herself. Did nothing rattle her? She was the bravest woman he’d ever met, utterly fearless and determined.

  Robert had best appreciate her. Because if Julius ever caught word that the artist mistreated her . . . Well, there’d be no hole small enough where that fortune-hunting worm could hide from Julius.

  The attendant showed them a table in clear view of the stage. “Is this satisfactory?”

  Julius waited for Nora to answer, to indicate whether this position was scandalous enough, but she stared off into the dark New York night. “Yes, thank you,” he said and slipped the young man a few coins. Then he helped Nora lower herself into a seat. “How did you escape your aunt’s careful watch tonight?”

  “My maid told them I was unwell and had taken a sleeping draught. Then I snuck out through the delivery entrance.”

  The answer was clipped, her voice tight. He sat down and asked, “Are you upset?”

  “No.”

  Hmm. While he was not the most intuitive man with regard to women, he could almost hear her gritting her teeth. “Would you rather return another night?”

  “No. Is your mother still here in the city?”

  “Yes, though I cannot fathom why. I had expected her and my sister to return to Albany within days.” They hadn’t left his home and had asked daily about meeting Nora. He wasn’t certain how much longer he could put them off.

  Another silence fell and he could not stand it any longer. “When will you—”

  A waiter appeared to take their drink order. Julius ordered champagne for Nora and bourbon for himself. He should probably drink champagne as well, but the mood hardly felt celebratory. Politeness be damned. He angled toward her and lowered his voice. “Please, tell me what is bothering you.”

  “How are you so certain something is bothering me?”

  “Because you’ve normally mapped out the evening the way a general approaches battle, yet tonight you’re silent. What happened?”

  She sighed and pulled her cape’s collar tighter around her slim neck. “You had dinner last evening at Delmonico’s.”

  “Yes, I did. Were you there?”

  “No. I read about it in today’s Town Talk column.”

  Christ. He hated that gossip nonsense. Then a spark of realization slid through his veins, energizing him as if a stock had split. This was about Poppy. “You’re jealous.”

  Her brows slammed down. “Absolutely not. That is utterly ridiculous.”

  Their waiter returned and Nora pressed her lips together. Julius nearly laughed. The truth had been in the clear golden flecks of her dark brown eyes. She hadn’t expected him to guess jealousy and therefore hadn’t been able to erect defenses quickly enough to hide her reaction. So she was jealous of Poppy. Interesting.

  Once their drinks had been poured, he lifted his tumbler and sipped. “So you were saying . . . You’re not jealous of Poppy.”

  “Of course not. This is not a true engagement. Why in God’s name would I be jealous?”

  “I have no idea. Perhaps you are growing to like me the tiniest bit.” He held his thumb and forefinger a hair’s width apart.

  “I am not jealous, you imbecile—I’m furious!”

  Her voice carried and the other patrons craned their necks to check on the disturbance. Julius stood, helped Nora out of her chair, and led her to a secluded spot amongst the shrubbery.

  “Tell me why you are so angry,” he prompted. “Come now, Nora. Spill it.”

  She took a deep breath. “I hate that you and she can easily garner attention when I fail so handily. The article mentioned your engagement but didn’t bother to note the identity of your fiancée. This should have been ridiculously easy! Instead, I’m plotting and scheming to no avail. At this rate, we’ll be married before my father finds out.”

  “And what else?” He wanted her to admit to the jealousy. He needed to hear it, that he wasn’t the only one turned inside out by whatever was happening between them.

  “There’s nothing else, Julius.”

  He didn’t believe her, not when she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “So the idea of Poppy and me together, my hands on her, kissing her—”

  Nora’s hand shot up to cover his mouth. “Stop talking about it!” He didn’t bother to hide his smug satisfaction and she exhaled heavily. “Fine. I am a tiny bit jealous.”

  He couldn’t help it. He had to touch her after that heartfelt admission. His fingertips brushed her cheek, then swept along her temple to push a strand of hair behind her ear. She shivered and he lowered his hand but didn’t pull away. The air thickened, blanketing out the rest of the city until they were the only two people in New York.

  He put his hands on her hips and shifted closer. “The papers love Poppy because printing her name sells more copies. It has nothing to do with me, I promise, and she arranged dinner to ask me a business question. The dinner was not personal, Nora. I would not secretly see another woman while we are pretending to be engaged.”

  She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth then grimaced. “I want to say those words do not comfort me, but that would be a lie.” Her stare remained fixed on his necktie, her chest rising and falling swiftly, the rapid rate of her breathing matching his own. “I find my feelings grow more confusing every day. You are quite dangerous to my peace of mind.”

  “Good, because you have already destroyed mine.”

  Her eyes shot up to his. “What?”

  “Is it not obvious? I am attracted to you. Worse, I actually like you. I think you’re intelligent and interesting, not to mention captivating and shockingly devious.”

  Music from the stage drifted in the background, along with sounds wafting up from the streets. The cold air burned his lungs but he hardly noticed, his attention focused solely on the woman in front of him. A dull yellow glow from the outdoor lamps cast shadows on her face, and he waited, unable to move, unwilling to even blink and miss her reaction.

  “I hadn’t expected you to be so forthright and honest. Do all American men speak this way?”

  He hadn’t the faintest clue. He only knew something was happening between them, something he had no control over, and he owed her honesty. “It’s how I speak. I told you I wouldn’t lie to you and I meant it.”

  “So what are we to do?”

  His hand cupped her jaw. “Whatever you like. In the eyes of the city, we are engaged.”

  “This was designed to be purely a business arrangement.” She sounded so disappointed that it nearly made him smile.

  “I excel at seeing trends and predicting the future. But you are the first person I’ve met who is truly unpredictabl
e.” He studied the fine cast of her features, her high aristocratic cheekbones. The chestnut eyes tipped with brown lashes. He hadn’t ever wanted to kiss a woman this badly. Memories of their only kiss plagued him at all hours, a fascination he’d tried hard to shake. Much to his dismay, however, the lure of being with her was only building. “I haven’t a clue what we are to do beyond this moment right here.”

  “And what do you think we should do right now?”

  “I think you should kiss me.”

  Her gaze dipped to his mouth and his heart stuttered. Was she considering it? He prayed the answer was yes.

  “That is a terrible idea,” she whispered, and he blinked, worried he’d horribly misread the situation. But then she said, “Someone might see us.”

  Not because she didn’t want to but because they might get caught. Anticipation raced through him. His hands found her shoulders and he leaned closer. “No one can see us here in the shadows, my lady.”

  A dull flush spread over her cheeks. “There are other reasons as well.”

  He did not want to discuss her worthless beau at the moment. “Those other reasons hardly matter here tonight on this rooftop. You’re in New York, not London, and tonight you’re mine.”

  She couldn’t help herself.

  Whether it was his words, his deference to her wishes, or the lush, romantic setting, Nora found herself pushing up on her toes to kiss him. There had been this pull between them, an invisible thread drawing them together for days. So it seemed the most natural thing in the world to move in and seal her mouth to his once again. And he didn’t resist; instead, he kissed her back. Hard.

  It. Was. Glorious.

  His lips slid over hers fervently, urgent and greedy, as if he’d been waiting years for this. There was a messy desperation along with the skill, the inability to control his reaction in the moment, and proof of his abandon emboldened her, had her shifting closer and threading fingers into his soft hair. Strong hands pulled her flush to his body, cradling her, his wide chest heaving against her own, both of them dragging in precious air.

  Every inch of her came alive, as if her blood suddenly moved quicker through her veins and her heart beat faster behind her ribs. Her breasts grew heavy and swollen beneath her corset, and she ached to feel his hands on her. She needed more. Her tongue darted out and caught a hint of spirits from earlier, along with something uniquely Julius.

  He gave a low growl before his tongue, hot and slick, invaded her mouth. He crowded her, surrounded her, and a giddy weightlessness filled her like champagne bubbles. She was falling, drowning in each gust of his breath, each tiny groan from his throat. Every noise, every shudder ratcheted her own desire higher, and the place between her legs began to pulse, a steady drumbeat of need. She whimpered, delirious with the onslaught of sensation. Drunk with it.

  This was nothing like kissing Robert, who—

  She broke free, gasping as she put her palm on Julius’s chest. Oh, no. She had kissed him again. They shouldn’t have kissed the first time, let alone once more tonight. What was wrong with her?

  Stepping to the side, she tried to put as much distance between her and Julius as possible while collecting her reeling thoughts. Shame burned her skin. This could not be blamed on avoiding discovery in a dark garden. No, she had kissed him, this man she barely knew.

  Everything she’d been raised to believe about love and marriage no longer made sense. She’d fallen in love with Robert, had given him her trust and her heart, and he had done the same. Those pledges meant they would happily spend the rest of their lives together, just as every storybook, governess, and society matron had claimed. So how could she experience these feelings, this burning hot desire, for Julius?

  More importantly, how could she have forgotten Robert?

  A lump sat in her throat, the urge to cry so strong she could nearly taste the tears. It must have shown on her face because Julius reached for her. “Nora—”

  She recoiled, holding up a hand to keep him away. “No, please. Don’t touch me. This was an unfortunate mistake.”

  “Is this about Robert?”

  “Do not say his name!” She covered her ears with her hands. “We shall take this to our graves, Julius.”

  The rogue did not even bother to temper his boisterous laugh. “There are many things I’m taking to my grave, sweetheart, but this won’t be one of them. I’m not in the least bit embarrassed by what just happened.”

  “Well, I am. No one must ever learn of this. No one.”

  He thrust his hands in his pockets and studied her, his bright eyes shining in the gaslight. “Why? You wanted to act scandalously. Been dying to shock society. This would certainly accomplish both those things. Or, are you worried Robert will hear of it?”

  “I already told you not to say his name. What is wrong with you?”

  “Perhaps I’m tired of hearing about him,” he said with a shrug. “Perhaps I’m tired of all of this.”

  A fissure of panic worked its way under the surface of her shame. “What do you mean, you’re tired of all this?”

  “Exactly what I said.” He dragged a hand through his hair—hair that had been in her grasp moments earlier. “First, we make this ridiculous bargain, then you prevent me from making any real progress on finding my father’s investors whenever we are in society. You push and push for a scandal, never stopping to think of the others affected by your selfishness. You are turning my life upside down—all to return to a craven fortune hunter who doesn’t deserve you.”

  How dare he . . . She poked him in the shoulder. “Robert is not craven or a fortune hunter. And how do you possibly know whether he deserves me or not?”

  He took a step closer, his legs brushing her skirts, and her heart thumped in her chest as if they were still kissing. “I know,” he said, “because he never should have allowed your father to drive the two of you apart. Any decent man would’ve married you. Found a way to stop you from leaving his side. That you are here and your Robert is there speaks volumes about how he feels about you.”

  The words lodged under her ribs like a fist, squeezing her insides until she could hardly breathe. Julius didn’t know the circumstances, how hard it was to stand up to a man of her father’s position. Robert hadn’t had a choice.

  But a small sliver of suspicion whispered that perhaps she and Robert should’ve fought harder. She instantly pushed it aside, even angrier that Julius caused her to doubt herself and Robert. “That is a terrible thing to say.”

  “It is not my intention to hurt your feelings, Nora, but you must face up to the realities of the situation.”

  “Realities as you see them.”

  “Yes. I deal in facts, not emotions or blind faith. People lie. They conceal their motives whenever possible. You cannot take someone’s word that they care about you. It’s what they do that matters.”

  “And how was Robert supposed to keep my father from sending me away? He has no power, no money. No influence to speak of. How could he possibly stand up to an earl?”

  “I don’t claim to have all the answers, but I would never allow the woman I love to be taken away from me. I would find a way to convince her family, whatever it took.”

  “Easy for you. You’re wealthy, which comes with its own set of privileges. Not everyone is as fortunate.”

  His expression hardened, eyes growing cold. “My wealth had nothing to do with luck and everything to do with hard work. Your artist is a fool, a hopeless dreamer waiting for the big strike of inspiration to hit. He’s doomed to failure.”

  Her father’s similar words rang in her ears. He will drag you into the gutter if you let him. Artists are failures until they die. She hadn’t expected Julius to sound so much like the earl and less like her friend. Hugging her waist, she said, “You know nothing about him—or me, for that matter. And when I want your advice I’ll ask for it.”

  He pressed his lips together and stared out at the New York nighttime for a long moment. “I apologize, and
you’re correct. I don’t have all the information. Furthermore, none of this is my business. If you want to save yourself for Robert then, by all means, please, do so.”

  He spun and made his way back to their table, his gait stiff and angry. He threw himself into a chair and reached for his drink, downing the spirits in one gulp. She stood frozen, unsure what to do. Her lips stung from Julius’s kisses, the imprint of his fingers haunting her rib cage, while her mind remained a muddled mess.

  She couldn’t imagine sitting next to him for the next hour after that passionate embrace. Her body still thrummed with excitement, tingles under every inch of her skin. Were they to pretend this never happened? You cannot leave. Remember your purpose. Remember Robert.

  A fresh glass of champagne awaited her when she returned to their table. She sat down, grabbed the crystal, and swallowed the crisp liquid in one mouthful.

  The man at her side remained quiet during the performance—a perfectly bad version of Taming of the Shrew—steadily drinking his spirits and watching the actors. Nora hated this awkwardness between them. She never should have kissed him. He’d been quite annoyed when she mentioned Robert. Was he jealous as well?

  If so, where did that leave them?

  Another glass of champagne arrived and Nora downed this one as well. In all her scheming she’d never imagined that she and Julius would develop an attraction to one another. She wasn’t his type, based on what she knew of him, and her heart had already been given away to Robert. But tonight everything had changed.

  She had changed.

  There was no excuse for this kiss. None whatsoever, other than a desperate need to do so. Worse, the attraction between them had exploded. How could they possibly remain engaged after this?

  There was no undoing it, however, and she would still need to find a way to England—with or without Julius’s help.

  You prevent me from any real progress on finding my father’s investors whenever we are in society.