“It’s not real, Nell,” Julian said gently. “It’s a nightmare.”
She angled her head until her eyes met his. “I think it is real,” she confessed. “It seems real to me and once I thought I knew one of his victims.”
He shook his head, and said, “It may seem real, my dear, but it cannot be.” He smiled at her. “Unless I married a witch and you can see things beyond the ken of normal man.”
“Maybe I do see things, real things,” Nell said, her expression troubled. “How else would I think I knew one of the women? Why would I feel that the woman was a real person and not the figment of a dream?”
“It is possible that you had seen her days or weeks before and for some reason, your memory put her in your nightmare,” Julian replied reasonably.
“Do you think so?” she asked in a small voice, not convinced but wanting to be.
“I’m sure,” he said, one hand absently rubbing her back as he would a frightened child.
They lay there together for several seconds bathed in the flickering light from the lone candle, Nell taking comfort from him, Julian quietly murmuring to her, his presence and manner helping to dispel any lingering effects from the nightmare. Precisely when the mood changed, precisely when Julian felt his body stir with something more than the need to comfort, or when Nell became aware of an insistent heat blooming low in her belly and a rampant curiosity about the long masculine body pressed against hers, neither one of them knew.
Whether Julian sensed the change in her or Nell sensed it in him, when she raised her head and their eyes met, the very air sizzled, an electrical sensation, as if lightning had struck nearby, crackled between them. And whether Julian kissed her or she kissed him, neither knew but the next second their mouths were melded together and they kissed as if life itself depended upon it.
Passion rode Julian hard and while one part of him counseled restraint, another part, a hungry, primitive part, would not listen. He kissed her deeply, his tongue conquering and making her mouth his own. That she returned the kiss with equal fervor destroyed the last of his thinly held restraint and his hand slid to her breast, her thigh…
Nell’s fingers clenched against his chest when he lifted her nightgown, but she did not protest or stop him, not then nor when he whipped the offending garment over her head and in an instant had her naked next to him. The brush of her nipples against the coarse hair on his chest, the feel of his legs against hers sent a dizzying shaft of longing through her and she pressed closer, awash with sensations as old as time and as new as tomorrow.
His mouth worked magic on hers, his fingers plucking at her nipples, his hand cupping her breasts. Her response was everything he could have wished for and she moaned beneath his mouth and arched her back, pushing the soft flesh of her breast deeper into his greedy hand. He took it and all that she had to offer, his hand skimming over her slender body, exploring, touching, lingering, and then moving on to the next enticing curve, the next silky slope…
Need such as she had never experienced coiled and twisted low in Nell’s body, Julian’s kisses and his knowing hands stoking that unfamiliar feeling until it became an urgent, physical thing, clawing at her, demanding more of her, of him. And Julian gave her more, his fingers petting and stroking the thatch of curly hair between her thighs, sending tremors of delight streaking through her.
Uncertain, but unable to help herself, she caressed him, her hands discovering the contours of that sleek back, the muscular arms and chest. Driven as much by curiosity as by need, she reached for the rigid length of flesh that lay between them, a thrill shooting through her when he groaned pleasurably at her unsure touch. His hand covered hers and he taught the motions, the movements that pleased him best. She was an apt pupil and soon he was writhing beneath her hands.
Against her mouth he murmured, “One day, my sweet, you will teach me what gratifies you most—for now we shall just hope that I give you pleasure.”
His finger delved inside of her and she arched up, gasping, “Oh! You do, my lord, you do!”
He gave something between a groan and a laugh. Laying her onto her back, he slid between her thighs, his fingers caressing and arousing her, making certain that she was ready for him. When she pushed up against his invading touch, he kissed her urgently and positioned himself. Lodged at the opening of her body, he rocked forward in gentle thrusts, driving himself half-mad at the slowness of his penetration. Inch by inch he sank into her soft, hot sheath, each thrust taking him deeper, giving him such pleasure that he thought he would gladly die of it.
Reaching the thin barrier of flesh that prevented further passage, he hesitated. Against her mouth, he muttered, “I may hurt you…but I promise you, never again.”
Her eyes huge and luminous on his, she said, “I know.” Her fingers clenched his shoulder and she wiggled against him, adding, “Please. Do it. Now.”
Her movement nearly destroyed what control he had and at her words he made a half-strangled sound and his mouth came down hard on hers. Thrusting deep he burst past the impediment and sank fully within her. Wrapped within her silken heat, her slender arms holding him tight, a growl of pleasure tore from his throat.
In a welter of pain and delight, Nell clung to him, the pain diminishing as the delight grew. Each time he thrust within her, a tremor of pleasure coursed through her and she twisted wildly beneath him. She was lost to the world and there was only Julian and what they were doing to each other, Julian’s body driving into hers, her own answering the demand of his. As they moved together, something, something she could not name, curled and flexed in her loins. The incredible feeling increased and a sweet agony of sensation rippled through her. She gasped, stiffening as an explosion of pleasure burst through her.
Buried deep within her, Julian felt her release and with a shudder loosed whatever control he had maintained over himself. With one last thrust, he joined her in ecstasy.
Satiated as he had never been in his life, Julian dragged himself from between Nell’s thighs, his breathing ragged and his heart pounding like a war drum. Eyes closed, he pulled her next to him, enjoying the supple warmth of her body as she curled confidingly against him.
Nell lay there listening to the beat of his heart, pleased to learn that hers was not the only one that raced. Deep within her little quakes of delight still rippled and she marveled at how such a simple, basic act could give such pleasure. She wrinkled her nose. And to think that she could have known this delicious part of marriage days ago!
Above her head, Julian asked, “What are you thinking?”
She grinned up at him. “That I was a ninny to hold you at bay.”
He choked and half-smiled. “I assume that means that I pleased you.”
“Oh, yes, indeed you did, my lord.” A gleam in her eyes she murmured, “Will we do this often?”
Laughing, Julian brought his mouth next to hers. “As often as you like, my pet. I am always at your, uh, service.” He kissed her and added, “But I trust you will give me a moment to recover before demanding that I exert my husbandly rights again.”
Nell giggled and stretched. Perhaps, she decided, being married to Julian was not a fate worse than death. She glanced at his dark handsome face and her heart gave an odd little leap. She wasn’t in love with him…at least she didn’t think she was, but at the moment, she couldn’t think of another man who held, or who had ever held, such an allure for her.
There could be no doubt that he held a potent allure for her—how else to explain that she was lying naked in bed with him, her body still throbbing from his lovemaking? Their marriage had not been to her liking, she couldn’t deny it, but now, would she escape if she could? She made a face. Probably. One delightful tumble did not a marriage make. And she had an inherent dislike of being forced to do anything.
From beneath her lashes, she studied his face. He seemed resigned to their marriage and she supposed that she should be grateful for that. She could have faced a man full of resentment, intent u
pon punishing her for their fate, but she had not—he had always been more reasonable about their marriage than she had. In fact he had never shown any sort of reluctance. She frowned. So why hadn’t he objected? She had been a complete stranger to him and, even given the circumstances surrounding their marriage, shouldn’t he have been a little bitter about it? Perhaps, it hadn’t mattered very much to him who he married? That was a lowering thought. But it made her wonder about his motives for going along so tamely with their marriage. God knew, she hadn’t and she still wasn’t exactly resigned to it, but he seemed perfectly complacent with it. Oh, to be sure, being found in such a compromising situation had not left him much choice, even she was willing, albeit reluctantly, to admit that. But still…Was his easy acceptance of their forced marriage because he had been married before? Had he been so much in love with his first wife that no woman would ever hold his heart again? There hadn’t been any children from that union, either; he had no direct heir. Had he begun to think that it was time he needed an heir?
At her movement, Julian glanced at her. Something in her expression sent his lazy satisfaction spinning away. “What?” he asked. “What are you thinking?”
“Did you love your first wife very much?” Nell blurted.
Julian stiffened and his expression grim, he said, “I’d rather not talk about her—she’s in the past and has no place in our marriage—certainly not our bed.”
“Oh, that means I can ask you about her tomorrow at breakfast?” Nell asked brightly, hiding the unease his response created.
Julian sat up and slid from the bed. His mouth tight, he muttered, “No. It means that I don’t want to talk about Catherine, now or ever.” Good God! How could he talk about the unhappiest time in his life, the despair at having made a terrible match, the anguish of losing an unborn child? Especially to this beguiling little minx who, somehow, miraculously made him believe that he might find happiness, great joy in this marriage? Nell deserved a better answer, he knew, but he could not bring himself to speak of those miserable days. At least not yet. Perhaps in time when they were both more confident in their marriage, but not now!
“Why not?” Nell persisted, knowing it was unwise, but unable to help herself. Unless Catherine mattered a great deal to him, he should be able to talk about her, and the fact that he wouldn’t sent her heart sinking to her toes.
“Because,” he said fiercely, reaching under the pillow to grab his knife, “she has nothing to do with our marriage. And I won’t have her specter presiding over our marriage bed and at our table.” He looked away, but not before Nell had glimpsed the pain in his face. “Catherine belongs to another time and part of my life. I do not want to share those memories with anyone.”
He’d grabbed the knife, intending to leave before he said something he might regret, completely having forgotten Nell’s nightmare and the fact that she had not seen him with it when he’d entered her room earlier.
At the sight of that naked blade in his hand, her breath sucked in. Eyes huge and wary, she scrambled off the far side of the bed. Poised for flight she stared across at him and questions, doubts flickered across her face.
Cursing himself and realizing what he had done, Julian quickly shielded the knife below the mattress. Softly he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I brought the knife in with me when I heard you scream. I thought you were being attacked and I came to protect you, not harm you. And as for my refusal to disinter my first marriage—forgive me, but I do not wish to lay bare my soul—it is too painful.”
The knife forgotten, her heart cold in her breast, Nell stared at him. Were his memories of his first wife so precious he could not even bear to speak of them? And again she wondered at the ease with which he had accepted their marriage. Could it be that after all these years only an heir mattered and as long as he married…and fathered a child…Thinking of the lovemaking they’d just shared, a chill went through her.
Julian knew that he had blundered, he just didn’t know how badly. The passionate little creature who’d been in his arms only moments ago was gone and replaced by a woman who looked at him as if he had betrayed her in some manner.
“I think,” she said in a voice that chilled him, “that you’d best seek your own bed, my lord. You accomplished what you came for.”
Chapter 8
Conversation was strained the next morning when they met in the morning room for breakfast. In fact, the entire week that followed was uncomfortable for the pair of them as they attempted to settle into marriage.
Julian knew that he needed to repair the damage he’d done, all in innocence, he reminded himself bitterly, but the opportunity did not present itself. Certainly the reserved manner in which his bride treated him did not make it easy for him to broach the subject. That she also avoided him, throwing herself under Dibble’s gratified tutelage in the customs and practices of Wyndham Manor didn’t help and then there were the very real demands on his own time, which didn’t help, either. He’d been away from the estate for months and there was much that needed his attention.
When he did have the spare moment to spend with his bride, except for the few meals they shared together, Nell always seemed in a hurry to be somewhere else—wherever, he thought wryly, he wasn’t. He’d considered bearding her in her bedroom, but that notion didn’t find favor with him. He didn’t feel that appearing at his wife’s bedside as a supplicant was necessarily going to do him any good. In fact, he found the whole idea repugnant, reminding him as it did of those last months of his first marriage, when he had done everything within his power to make Catherine more resigned to her pregnancy. He didn’t believe that Nell was cut from the same cloth, but having only his first marriage to go by, he was wary.
It didn’t make him feel any better to know that he could have handled the entire incident better. Could have and should have. He shook his head. He was noted for thinking on his feet, for a quick response in the most complicated of situations, yet he’d reacted to Nell’s question like the greenest paperskull.
His prior marriage, and he would be the first to admit it, was a deeply personal and painful subject for him. Nell’s question, coming as it did immediately after the most glorious lovemaking he’d ever experienced, had caught him utterly off guard. He could have handled it more adroitly, but he hadn’t. And the knife…Well, that had been an accident, one that if he hadn’t already been rattled by Nell’s questions about Catherine, he’d have been able to avoid.
I should never, he told himself for the hundredth time, have left her rooms with things unresolved between us. And the longer the estrangement continued, he realized gloomily, the more insurmountable it would become, the greater the barrier that existed between them would be. It was, he thought, a silly, impossible predicament.
Julian wasn’t the only one who knew that mistakes had been made. Nell missed the easy companionship that had existed between them prior to that night and it did not set well with her that their current situation was as much of her own making as his. Not, she reminded herself, that Julian had set himself out to be particularly conciliatory. He didn’t seem to care in the least that they both went their separate ways. Was this the way he wanted it?
Only half-listening to Dibble as he explained the history of the particularly fine Flemish tapestry that hung in one of the older parts of the house, Nell wondered how the breech between herself and Julian could be healed. It was unhappily clear that the subject of his first wife was painful for him and that he wasn’t going to talk about Catherine anytime soon, which left her with the knife to consider…She shivered as the memory surfaced of Julian standing before her with a knife in his hand. She didn’t know him very well but she didn’t think it normal for a gentleman to have such easy access to a knife at that time of night—or to handle it with such a practiced ability. When she considered that he had come into her rooms prepared to defend her, she felt warm and protected, but she couldn’t quite put aside her uneasiness at having him brandishing a kn
ife in front of her eyes. She rather thought he’d told the truth, and while she was able to push it aside, every now and then the memory of that gleaming blade held so expertly in her husband’s hand would re-surface and she would wonder…
The knife was a problem, although, she sensed, a small one. But his first marriage to Lady Catherine Bellamy…He certainly hadn’t been very forthcoming about that! And that, she decided, could become a very big problem. He’d refused bluntly to discuss his first marriage—which, she conceded ruefully, only made her more curious about it…particularly his feelings for his first wife.
She frowned as she followed Dibble down the long hallway. She supposed that was the crux of the matter. Their union had not begun in the best fashion and any chance they had of finding happiness together would not be helped by lingering shadows of his previous marriage. If he still loved his first wife, it would explain much, she admitted dejectedly. Such as his willingness to marry her—if his heart had been buried with a dead woman, it didn’t matter who he married.
Marriage to a man whom she might come to love and who might come to love her was one thing; marriage to a man in love with a ghost was another thing entirely. How can I compete with a dead woman? she wondered. More importantly, do I want to compete with a dead woman? Yes, she rather thought she did. While disliking the circumstances of their marriage, she intended to be happy and although affection could not be forced, she wanted to fall in love with her husband. With a start, she realized that not only did she want to fall in love with Julian, but that she wanted Julian to love her—not some woman moldering in a grave.
Thanking Dibble for his time, Nell wandered outside to stroll along one of the many paths that angled here and there through the extensive gardens. For nearly November the weather was exceptionally pleasant. Oblivious to the late-blooming roses and petunias, she walked without purpose, lost in her own thoughts.
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