“I suppose it became one.” He’d had a natural flair for it and had consequently applied himself without second thought.
“So then what does it matter how it all began?” She bunched the coverlet in her hands and held on tight. “What is important is where you are now, the man you have become and the fact that the world owes you a debt of gratitude for your unfailing dedication.”
The way she saw him was more than enlightening; it was simple, cutting through rank and profession and delving beyond façade to where only truth existed. It was humbling and gratifying all at once, but it did not make reality any easier to deal with. Least of all when he could think of only one way in which to lessen the damage to her reputation, but since she was still on the mend and he wished her to focus all energy on improving her health, he refrained from making the suggestion. It was enough that he had to worry about taking away her choices and of her never knowing if he made his offer in earnest or because he felt honor bound to do so.
“You are a godsend, Juliette.” He spoke without thinking, saying the first thing that came to mind. Her eyes, when they met his, appeared less alert than earlier, so he took that as his cue to leave. “Get some rest. It is the best thing you can do for yourself right now.”
Closing her eyes on a nod, she rolled her head to the side and snuggled deep into the pillow. “Thank you for taking such excellent care of me, Florian.”
He fought the urge to bow down and kiss her and went to the door instead. “You are most welcome.” His chest was tight as he quit the room, his every nerve ending screaming for him to stay with her. But he also needed to clear his head in order to think, which was something he could not do as well as he ought when he was near her. The distraction she offered was simply too great, the temptation to let his gaze linger upon her eyelashes, the tip of her nose, the curve of her ear . . . He truly was losing his mind over this woman.
No.
He had lost his mind over her when he’d succumbed to the urge to kiss her. Until that moment, he’d maintained some semblance of sanity and control, but there was now a precise instant in time—a second he could literally point to—in which he had lost it. His heart was in her hands now, which wasn’t as frightening as he had feared. In fact, for a man who’d done everything in his power to avoid falling in love, he had to admit that there was something remarkably pleasant about it.
It was two days before Juliette decided she was well enough to venture out of bed. Sitting in the armchair Florian had occupied whenever he’d come to check on her, she tried to concentrate on the book she was reading. It was difficult. Very difficult. In fact, she had already reread the same page three times, which was not a criticism of Ann Radcliffe, whose novels she adored, but a testament to her preoccupation with a certain gentleman.
Florian was wrong to castigate himself for being Bartholomew’s son. She certainly had no issue with it. But since he was the one directly affected by it and she sensed it cut a deep wound in his soul, she understood that saying as much would not be enough. She would have to show him that he was deserving of love no matter who his father was or what he had done. But to do so would take time—time spent together—time for him to realize she would always choose him, no matter what.
A knock sounded at the door and her “Enter!” brought the man in question into the room. He was just as casually attired today as he had been all the other days he’d tended to her. The domestic appearance warmed her heart, but the breadth of his shoulders and the hint of skin peeking out from behind his open shirt collar made a flush creep over her cheeks. Yes, she had recovered, enough to appreciate Florian’s physical attributes and enough to long for him to kiss her again.
“Your beauty never ceases to astound me.” His words were soft and yet they crashed over her with delightful force. Since registering the distress she’d felt upon discovering her hair had been sheared, he’d been complimenting her as often as possible. “I am not just saying that,” he added hastily. “I honestly mean it.”
“I know you do and I thank you.” The new uncertainty with which he had started addressing her was endearing. She wasn’t sure what caused it, but she liked him like this, a bit out of sorts. It matched the way she’d always felt in his presence. “Will you join me?”
He glanced across at the bed, hesitated a moment and then went to sit on the edge of the mattress. “I ought to have Jillian tend to you for the remainder of your stay.” His voice was thoughtful. “All gossip aside, having me visit you in your bedchamber like this, now that you are almost fully recovered, is highly inappropriate.”
Juliette’s heart sank. She did not want to lose his attention or the chance to make him see how right they were for each other. Setting her book aside, she pondered her options. He had been raised with a strict concept of how to treat a lady. Rules and etiquette had been drilled into him all his life, so it was only natural for him to insist the closeness they had shared during her illness come to an end. Unless she was able to speak to the part of him that had tossed propriety aside at the opera and kissed her with abandon. That part of him existed, no matter how much he tried to restrain it.
With this in mind, she told him simply, “I do not wish for Jillian’s ministrations. I wish for yours.”
His eyes, those deep blue eyes, drove into hers with hot intensity. “Juliette.”
Her name was spoken in warning and with encouraging roughness. “I still feel slightly faint.” Faint because of you, not because of fever. Rising to her feet, she forced him to stand as well. “You are my physician, Florian. I am here because of you, so I think it only proper that you should be the one to ensure my full recuperation.”
His posture had gone completely rigid, his stance suggesting he was caught between the urge to run and the duty to stay. “Helping you dress and undress, assisting you with your bath, is no longer something I must do, Juliette. Indeed . . .” His expression had turned tumultuous. “It is not something I should be doing any longer.”
Tilting her head, she took a step closer to where he stood. “Why not?”
“Because I am no longer a mere physician, Juliette. I am a man who desires you in every way imaginable.” His breath was ragged, his words coming in quick succession as if they were bricks in a wall being built to protect him from her advance. “It was easy to ignore it while I was struggling to save your life. But now that you are well again, I am embarrassed to admit I cannot see you unclothed without betraying my professionalism.”
“Of all the compliments you have ever given me, I do believe that is the best.” For it wasn’t spoken in an effort to pamper her ego or soothe her spirit, but as a real warning of what might occur if she chose to ignore him. Brazenly, she continued forward, not stopping her progress until she was but a hand’s width away. “Would it trouble you if I were to tell you that I rather like the idea of you betraying your professionalism?”
When on earth had she started sounding so wanton? And when had she gotten the courage to say such outrageous things? It had to be her determination to win him that made her do so. For in truth, she was sure she would say what was necessary, no matter how improper or undignified, if it meant she would meet with success.
“We are in a bedchamber, Juliette. You cannot say such things to me without consequence.” His voice was raw, his chest rising and falling heavily while his eyes studied her with infinite longing.
“If the consequence is a kiss like the one we shared before, then it shall be worth it.” She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, praying for his surrender. He was tall, his masculine presence crowding her with its physical power. Energy hummed between them, a living thing writhing and thrashing against its chains until she placed her hand on his arm.
The action, tentative as it was, seemed to unravel his finely held control. Without warning, he wound his arm around her, pulling her close as his mouth met hers with desperation. It was rough and unforgiving, elemental in its urgency and thoroughly effective in feeding the cravings of
Juliette’s mind, body and soul. She reveled in it, in the force with which he held her and the diligence with which he accommodated her need for him to surround her, caress her, taste her.
The skill with which he applied himself dressed her in sparks that pricked at her skin until she trembled. Her legs grew weak, forcing her to cling to him while an unfamiliar sigh was wrenched from deep within. He responded with a guttural growl and by flattening his hand against the curve of her lower back.
“Juliette.” Her name tickled the edge of her mouth and was quickly succeeded by a trail of kisses along the edge of her jaw.
Angling her head, she allowed him greater access while arching more boldly against his embrace. “Yes.” Her fingers pushed through his hair and clasped at his head, holding him close while he licked a path along her neck.
“You’re mine.” His teeth nipped her flesh, marking her in a way that made her feel claimed. It was basic, the action thoroughly male, perhaps even a little barbaric. But rather than put her off, it made her insides sizzle with increased passion. Until he drew back with a ragged breath and set her aside as if he’d been scorched. “We should not be doing this. I . . . I have taken alarming liberties with you and I—”
“Apologize and I shall never forgive you.”
He stared at her in utter stupefaction. “But—”
“I encouraged you because this is what I want.” She swallowed, braced herself by straightening her spine and squaring her shoulders. “Because I want you, Florian. If you will have me, that is.”
Florian’s eyes almost bulged from his head and his mouth fell open. Juliette could not recall a man ever looking more shocked than he did right now, which prompted her to smile even though she’d never felt more nervous in all her life. This was his chance to deny her, to say he did not want her in return. Because if there was one thing he’d been adamant about from the start, it was his reluctance to marry—more notably, his reluctance to marry her. So she stood, still as a statue, and waited for him to gather his wits. Part of her wished she’d had more sense than to lay her heart bare without even the slightest finesse while another part sighed with relief. They would finally determine where they stood with one another. Or so she hoped.
Chapter 25
Facing Juliette, this force of nature who stood before him with fearless and honest abandon, was mesmerizing. I want you, Florian. If you will have me, that is. The words had besieged his mind. He could not think of anything else besides this wild declaration and all the possibilities it laid out before him.
Heart hammering in his chest and still reeling from the perfection of the kiss they’d just shared, he waded past his fears. Of course he wanted her. The question was whether or not he would make her happy and if he’d be able to keep her safe. “Just to be clear,” he stated slowly, “you want me to ask for your hand?” He had no wish to misunderstand her and to propose they marry before she was ready to accept such an outcome.
“Yes.”
She did not even flinch. The certainty with which she delivered her response was unwavering and, he had to admit, thoroughly arousing.
Banking that thought for a moment, he contemplated the path before them. “My disinclination to consider courting you was never on account of disinterest. It is imperative that you understand this, Juliette, because of what I am about to tell you.” Uncertain apprehension stole into her eyes, but she nodded, encouraging him to continue. “I have been attracted to you from the start, but I did not think us well suited until I got to know you better. And then my connection to Bartholomew held me back. At first, because I was ashamed to tell you about it, and later because I feared what he might do to you if he learned we’d formed an attachment.”
“I understand your reasoning completely.” Not a hint of censure clung to her words, only flagrant acknowledgment of fact. “But do you really want to let fear deprive you of happiness and love?”
“Love.” He tested the word and all it implied.
“I love you, Florian. I cannot deny it or run from it any more than I can change the course of the stars in the heavens or turn back the hands of time.”
This was what he wanted. Astoundingly, it was what he had always wanted, he acknowledged with some surprise—to be loved for who he was in spite of his flaws, no matter what the rest of the world might think of him. There was no obstacle in his path, save his own apprehension, but perhaps even this could be put to rest if Bartholomew could somehow be removed from the equation.
“He was supposed to hang.” He murmured the words.
“What?”
Blinking, Florian registered Juliette’s bewildered expression. “Forgive me. I was merely voicing a thought.” He moved toward her, intent on returning to the discussion of marriage.
But she stepped back and held up her hand, halting his stride. “I hope you’re not contemplating murder.”
The possibility had been pressing upon his mind for a while, though not in quite so dishonorable a way. “A challenge, rather.”
“On the field of honor?” She looked appalled. “Nothing good can come of such a thing. Surely you know that.”
“I could rid the world of a cur and live happily ever after.” The thought was a rather appealing one.
“No. You would forever be the man who took his father’s life.” The disappointment that flared in her eyes was as real as the passion she’d shown moments earlier. “Consider how difficult it has been for you to forgive yourself for actions you weren’t to blame for, and ask yourself if you will truly be able to absolve yourself of all blame and find the peace you seek if you proceed with such a plan.”
Clenching his jaw, Florian damned her insightfulness and his own reluctance to walk away and do as he wished. He cared too much about her, however, to ignore what she said. Instead he listened and grudgingly offered his agreement. “Very well.” He could not keep the disgruntled tone from his voice even though he knew she was right.
Her voice drew nearer, curling around him as she took a step in his direction. “But as duke, your power is not insignificant, no matter the shame Bartholomew brings to your name. If you join forces with Coventry and Huntley, inform the king of what has transpired, then surely the error regarding Bartholomew’s punishment shall be corrected and justice served.”
He gave an absent nod. “I must return you to your brother’s care sooner than I intended. Until this matter has been resolved and you and I are married, you need to be under his roof.”
The disappointment marring her features made him wish it weren’t so, but the truth was that he’d already kept her here longer than necessary. So he moved to pass her, pausing next to her shoulder so he could whisper in her ear. “It is the only way to prevent me from acting dishonorably.” Her sharp intake of breath confirmed she knew what he meant and he couldn’t resist. His hand found hers, his thumb brushing gently over her palm. “Don’t worry,” he assured her. “Everything will work out in the end.” Turning his head, he placed a tender kiss upon her brow. She responded by nuzzling closer, her breath falling warmly against his neck.
It was intimate and it was perfect and he regretted having to walk away. But there were matters he had to attend to if they were to marry as fast as he hoped.
Putting on one of the dresses Gabriella had sent over, Juliette studied her reflection in the cheval glass. Jillian had been sent up to help her prepare for her return to Huntley House since Florian was apparently quite serious about adhering to proper etiquette. He would not allow the two of them to spend more time together alone. Not when she was well enough to go back home. Which meant she had not seen him since he’d left her the previous evening, hungry for more of his kisses but grateful for his restraint. As much as she longed for them to be together, she would have regretted relinquishing the sanctity of their wedding night.
With this in mind, she tied her bonnet in place and made her way downstairs to the foyer where Florian stood in quiet conversation with Sarah. He must have heard her upon the stairs
for he turned to greet her, his expression characteristically serious while his eyes . . . his eyes conveyed warmth and such depth of emotion Juliette felt a wild urge to fling herself into his arms.
Instead, she nodded politely, observed wryly that his hands were clasped behind his back so he could not touch her, and went to greet her maid, who welcomed her with a happy smile.
“I intend to call on your brother later today,” Florian murmured for Juliette’s ears alone while leading her out to the awaiting carriage. “If he approves of my intentions, we shall soon be betrothed.” He handed her up behind Sarah and shut the door swiftly, as if fearing he might otherwise follow her into the conveyance.
If only.
Rather, he took a step back and signaled for the driver to set the horses in motion. Juliette moved in order to look out the window. She watched his somber form until he vanished from sight and then fell back against the squabs with a sigh.
From beside her, she heard a chuckle and glanced up to meet Sarah’s dancing eyes. “You truly are besotted, my lady.”
Juliette smiled in return. “As well I should be when glancing at my future husband.” The carriage rolled on, picking up speed.
“Indeed?” Sarah grinned. They rounded a corner. “I am relieved to hear that all will be set to rights. Considering all the nasty rumors circulating the City, I feared—”
A jolt and a pistol shot halted the carriage along with whatever Sarah had been meaning to say. “My lady.” Sarah’s hand touched Juliette’s arm in alarm.
Beyond the carriage, voices arguing, presumably with the coachman, followed until another shot pierced the air and all went silent. Juliette’s heart leapt frantically against her chest. Steadying herself with a deep breath, she tried to remain as calm as possible. She would be fine. She had to be. Her future with Florian awaited.
The carriage door was wrenched open and a tall man with a thick white scar running right beneath his left eye came into view. His gaze went directly to Juliette. “Get out.” He pointed a pistol in her direction to ensure she complied.
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