by Jenna Jaxon
“I will.” She tried to pull away from his grasp but he held her still.
“Most definitely not.” He wrapped his hand around the back of her head, urging her face closer to his.
“Wh—what are you doing, Captain Dawson?” His blue eyes were her whole world.
“Bowing to the inevitable, my love.” Then his mouth met hers.
Chapter 11
Time stopped as his lips met hers, their kiss like nothing she had ever dreamed.
She had been rather free, if truth be told, with allowing men to kiss her. When she had first entered society, several young men had initiated her into this forbidden part of courtship—a part she soon discovered might be her downfall. She enjoyed kisses too much. The meeting of lips stirred her more than anything else in the world—the first time a hot sensation shot down to her toes. Every man kissed differently. That made the experience most exciting.
Her early beaux had kissed quickly, afraid of being caught. A graze across her lips from the most timid, although Georgie Anderson had pressed his lips to hers so firmly when he pulled away from her he made an embarrassing smacking sound.
Then, of course, Philippe and that soul stirring kiss beneath the mistletoe. He had taken his time, even though they were in plain view of anyone who cared to look. When his tongue had invaded her mouth, she hadn’t known what to do, but the feelings it stirred throughout her body made her press back, return the kiss with an enthusiasm that had sealed their betrothal. His kiss had inflamed her with a desire for more kisses, more touching, more…everything.
Amiable’s kiss, however…
As he lifted his mouth toward hers, a tingle of anticipation skittered across her lips. Had, in fact, started to generate a fire of their own from within. Then his lips took hers, all the warmth and desire she had hoped for there, in that first touch.
Slowly, patiently, he caressed her mouth. He drew her closer, in body and soul, until she lay in his arms, cradled like a baby. Warm and safe, even though in the arms of a virtual stranger. He didn’t feel like a stranger, but familiar, like coming home after a long absence.
He left her and whispered, “Better now?” Then he resumed the kiss before she could even nod.
Deepening the kiss, he slid his tongue into the depths of her mouth. She tasted the wine from dinner and an underlying sweetness that had nothing to do with spirits but rather with his essence. Heat rose all over her body, seeping into her from every point where they touched. She stretched in his lap, slipped her arms around his neck, and drew him closer to her. Savored every single moment of indescribable pleasure. And wanted more.
She ran her fingers up into the silky, disheveled hair at his nape and pressed him to her, greedy for the feel of him. Her lips rubbed against his, slow and sensuous. With her tongue she chased his, now shy, now bold, until she unexpectedly plunged it into his mouth, eliciting a startled groan from him.
He clutched her to him then broke away to again whisper in her ear. “My love.”
“Amiable” was all she could manage before she pulled him back to her.
“No, my dear. Wait.” He sat her up and slid her off his lap but kept her close, his arm around her, her head nestled on his shoulder.
“Amiable.” She reached across him, inadvertently brushing her hand over his abdomen.
“Juliet.” He grabbed it and placed it on his chest. “I warn you, love, I am no saint.”
She pulled herself up until she stared into the smoldering blue eyes. “Then be a sinner, my dear.”
Amiable groaned and grabbed her head, crushed her lips against his again with a ferocity that stole her breath.
He wanted her, every bit as much as she wanted him. So be it. With a sigh of bliss, she abandoned herself to him.
He pressed her onto her back and pinned her with his weight as he left her mouth to trespass down her neck. Goose flesh pebbled her skin as he trailed his mouth over a shoulder and onto her bosom that swelled out of her low-cut gown. He gave an assist with his fingers, and her breast popped free from her bodice and corset.
At the touch of his hand, she trembled and an ache grew low in her stomach. He cupped her breast, long fingers dark against her pale flesh as they stroked it, feather-light. He drew them down toward the tip, tweaking it at the last moment to send a spike of heat to her core. Her nipple peaked instantly, and she gasped at the exquisite sensation of the full, hard crest melding with the ache between her thighs.
Amiable raised his head, his eyes glazed with dark desire. He smiled, then lowered his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth. Her hips rose of their own accord and she groaned as he stroked the stiff crest with his tongue.
Not enough air in the room. Or perhaps she had forgotten how to breathe. The pull of his mouth dismissed all else from her mind.
He glanced up, his eyelids heavy with longing. “Sweet. So sweet.” He rubbed his thumb lightly over the moist peak. His touch set her body aflame. She wanted to rub herself all over him and catch fire. However, the sofa was narrow and the huge canopied bed beckoned, inviting them in.
He slid his hand over her other breast, but she stopped him.
“Can we go to the bed, Amiable? It would be more comfortable.”
He grunted and rose. Once more, he scooped her into his arms and she laughed. Never had a plan been so pleasurably thwarted. She laid her head on his shoulder, contentment stealing through her.
Two steps toward the bed then he halted. He stared down at her, his sensual smile replaced with an ominous look.
“Christ. Juliet, we almost…” He trailed off, his face suffused with a red tinge.
Was he blushing?
He looked away from her.
“We were loving one another, Amiable, and I for one thoroughly enjoyed it.” Juliet tried to keep the atmosphere playful, but his mood had changed. Oh, why couldn’t that wonderful interlude have lasted just a little while longer?
“’Struth.” He lowered her to the floor and turned his back. With an impatient sigh, Juliet set about repairing her appearance. Things were obviously not going to advance any further tonight. She leaned over and pushed her breasts back into her gown. When she straightened, he had gone to stand by the window, as far as possible from the lamp burning on the table.
“Amiable.” Silence. “Amiable.” Still no response. She went to stand beside him. Her body ached in strange places and she wanted nothing more than to reach up and bring his mouth back down to hers. Not now. Better not to press him. “My dear, you cannot ignore me after what just passed between us.”
He straightened his back. “It should never have happened.”
“Does that mean you are sorry it did?” Her heart beat faster.
He paused—an eternity during which she would swear she aged a hundred years—then said, in the lowest of voices, “Of course not.”
Juliet released her breath. Thank God. “Then come, let us—”
“No.”
“What is wrong, Amiable? You know you did not hurt me.” Did he think her afraid? Nothing could be further from the truth.
“I know I did not hurt you, Juliet, but it was wrong of me just the same. You are under my protection.” His face in profile seemed sharp and resolute.
Oh, why did he have to be her protector now?
“I cannot…We cannot…What I did should be your husband’s right alone. Thank God we went no further.”
So he would shove his own passions aside to revert to his appointed role. She supposed a good soldier must be able to ignore such distractions in order to focus on their objective. If only she could make herself his objective.
“Do not blame yourself, my dear,” she tried to reassure him. “You were trying to comfort me. And I must say, you did an excellent job of it.”
“Juliet.” The tips of his ears turned red.
“I will return to Glynis’s room now. I’ll be careful no one sees me and then I can sneak back in the morning before brea
kfast is served.” The prospect of spending the night with Glynis held less annoyance after her interlude here. She could savor the memory while in that narrow bed.
“Wait.” He gave her a mischievous smile and her spirits soared. “My dear, I fear you have become unwell after dinner.”
“What? I feel—”
“You are so ill, in fact, your loving husband insists your maid spend the night here to tend you while he takes her room.” He gathered several items of clothing and headed for the door. “Of course I will give it out I wished not to have my sleep disturbed with your moaning and groaning.”
“Very considerate, my dear.”
“I aim to please, sweetheart.” He managed to say it with a straight face, then laughed and left.
“Wretch.” Juliet called after him, glad his good humor had been restored. Tomorrow would be soon enough to continue her quest to become Lady Juliet Dawson.
Chapter 12
Rap, rap, rap, rap, rap.
Amiable opened his eyes and shook his head in an effort to come fully awake. Faint light outside the window told him dawn had not yet broken and his head dropped back to his pillow in exhausted exasperation. He had lain awake much of the night, tortured by the image of Juliet’s beautiful breasts. Her soft flesh, the sweet smell of her body as he had…Damn. He had compromised her and now certainly should marry her.
A fresh bout of furious knocking jerked him out of his reverie. He grunted and sat up on the side of the bed. Thanks to his train of thought, he’d been in an almost constant state of arousal all night. Frustration had taken its toll by the morning.
“Who is it?” he growled, reaching for his blue silk banyan.
“Juliet.” The answer came muffled and breathy.
Damnation, but he didn’t need a problem this early. With a groan, he grabbed his breeches. “A moment.” He donned the garment, reluctant to appear before her in dishabille. He glanced at the shirt tossed on the chair last night but dismissed it. Not enough time. Tying the robe’s sash around his waist armored him somewhat against her. How could any woman make him feel so vulnerable?
He ran a hand through his hair and crept to the door. He wasn’t sure what to expect. Always anticipate the unexpected with this woman. Had she come to seduce him yet again? He took a breath, paused, and opened it.
His senses snapped back on alert.
Juliet stood at the door, completely dressed, not a hint of seductress about her. Instead, the frightened damsel had returned. Her face showed fine lines and she shifted from one foot to the other, wringing her hands. She had not, however, been crying. The wide gold–brown eyes pled for help, nothing more.
“My dear, what is the matter?” He drew her into the room, concern for her distraught state overriding everything else. He made a grab for his shirt but it slithered to the floor as she sat.
“Oh, Amiable. They have taken Glynis away.”
“Took Glynis away? Who took her away? When?” Had his charge been kidnapped?
“The doctor. He has taken her to the hospital in Brackley.”
He stared at her, stunned. “Hospital?” God, what had happened? “Why?”
Her lips trembled. “Smallpox.”
“Smallpox?” Her grim countenance made altogether too much sense now. “She showed no sign of illness yesterday.”
Juliet sagged in the chair, looking like a small rag doll, limp and lifeless. “Neither did she when we went to bed. Then sometime after midnight she awakened me, complaining of fever, headache, and aching all over. I got a cool cloth, but she seemed to get worse. Then she got very ill indeed.” Her face drooped. “I began to suspect then it was smallpox.”
He would never have connected those symptoms to that horrible disease, even though he had known men in his regiment who had contracted it. “Why would you even think—”
“My last maid, Janet, had it. Three years ago.” Juliet rubbed at her eyes. “She had the exact same symptoms and she…” Juliet swallowed hard. “That is when Glynis came to me.”
“My dear.” He knelt at her feet and put his arms around her. “I am so sorry. So the doctor affirmed it?” He straightened, putting distance between them. “Why did you not summon me?”
“I didn’t want your night disturbed if it turned out to be something else. I simply went to Mr. Nuthatch and said my maid had taken a bad turn, could he please fetch the local doctor. Unfortunately, my suspicions were correct. Then, of course, I did not want you to get sick. I did not know if you had been inoculated.” She sat still, hands folded demurely in her lap, and spoke in a calm, reasoned manner.
“No, I have not.”
“Then I am glad I did not wake you. I would never forgive myself if you had contracted it.” She closed her eyes and her shoulders slumped.
“My God, Juliet. What if you have caught it?” His heart raced. So many people died of the dread disease.
“Oh, no, Amiable.” She placed a hand on his arm. “I was inoculated three years ago after Janet took ill. Duncan insisted on it. I am in no danger.”
“Did the doctor confirm she has smallpox?”
“Glynis admitted she had been given the variolation almost two weeks ago. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it gives you the disease.” She shook her head sadly, eyes filling with tears. “Poor Glynis is one of the unfortunate ones. However, the doctor promised to take good care of her. I paid him handsomely for her care. He will send me word if…when she is recovered.”
“You do not intend to stay here until she is well?” He’d have thought he would have to forcibly remove her from the vicinity.
Juliet hung her head. “I know it sounds cruel, but I think it best to travel on. She cannot recover in less than three weeks.”
“Three weeks.”
“According to the doctor, yes.”
Amiable stood and paced to the window and back. This bit of bad luck changed things. They no longer had a chaperone, although God knew Glynis’s presence last night had made no difference to their actions. What would occur without her nominal guard? He strode the length of the floor several times.
Juliet watched him with a brooding expression.
It would not do. One option alone remained for them.
“Under the circumstances, my dear, I believe we must abandon our plans to go to the Keep. You will return to London instead. You can stay at Dunham House until your aunt arrives, then either remove to her household or resume your journey north. I will offer my services as watchdog until she returns, although once your servants are alerted to the danger of St. Cyr, I have no doubt you will be perfectly safe from him.”
She gave him a hard stare that turned his blood to ice. “No.”
“No?” He blinked in surprise. Had she gone mad with grief? “Juliet, you must see reason. We can no longer travel together and definitely not as man and wife without a chaperone. We will be hard-pressed to return to London, which is only two days away, without the eruption of a major scandal.”
She must see the sense of this. To return was their only hope. Her brows gathered in a pucker he had come to recognize all too well.
“No, Amiable. I will not return to London until my brother does. On this point I am adamant.” Her stare didn’t waver. “Later this morning I will continue north. You, of course, are free to do as you wish.” She dropped her gaze to her lap. “I would relish your company and protection during the remainder of the journey, but if your conscience dictates it is not proper, then you must follow it.” She spoke in a calm tone, but under it he could hear the hurt, the anguish at being abandoned.
“Damnation.” He swore softly under his breath and rose, pacing again. By God, he would hate her by the end of this journey. Or love her. Stubborn did not begin to describe Lady Juliet Ferrers, but it did show the strength of her character. God help her husband. He chuckled. Most likely he’d just asked assistance for himself. He certainly could do worse than such a marriage. Whoa. He refused to go down that green l
eafy path at the moment. Best keep to the crisis at hand.
“Juliet, you know I will not leave you until you are in a safe haven.” He picked up the shirt that had fallen from the chair when she’d sat. “If that means another week on the road headed north, then to the north we go.” He stood in front of her and fixed her with the stare he reserved for the most recalcitrant recruits back in Virginia.
“Both of us. Although the rules of this engagement have changed, my lady. After our encounter last evening and now the removal of your chaperone, we will be even more circumspect in our behavior and appearance.”
She eyed him askance as she listened to his demands, and her face did not inspire confidence in him. Too passive, too timid, too smug. The smugness worried him most.
He continued to alter their arrangement in the only way that now made sense. “We will abandon the pretense of a married couple. Instead, we will now be traveling as brother and sister. A married sister, I believe. We can then observe the proprieties with separate rooms.” He held his breath, preparing for battle.
“I suppose that works as well as the other story.” She nodded and rose, acquiescing without a fuss.
He had expected her to put up a fight. Would she ever keep him guessing? There were worse faults in a wife. Why did he keep thinking that? Why did the thought of such a marriage bring on panic? It might be the simplest solution to all their problems.
They were good company together. She possessed a sharp wit and a delightful sense of humor, thank God. She was one of the most comely women of his acquaintance. Last night had shown they could make passion flame between them. And that crackling hot blaze had been kindled while they had been mostly clothed. What would happen if they were mostly unclothed? He needed to stay far away from those dangerous, seductive thoughts and concentrate on how to proceed.
“Very well, then,” he said, picking up the thread of the conversation. “If you will return to your room and pack your clothes we will leave as soon as possible.”
She smiled at him, a heartwarming curve to her lips. “I must confess, my dear, I have never packed a trunk in my life. It may take me some time to get everything just as it needs to be. Then we must have breakfast. I am simply starved after last night.”