by Meara Platt
Was his kiss so sexually potent that it had driven Rose wild and wanton, stirred the chasms of her untapped passion?
If so, it was a delayed reaction. She had seemed perfectly fine after their kiss, but it must have taken time for this new experience to work its way through her delicate system. He’d have to use gentle care when dealing with her the next time they met.
But he puffed out his chest with pride.
He had no idea he was so devastatingly appealing to women.
“Your brother is a complete and utter idiot,” Rose insisted, bursting into the bedchamber she shared with Nicola and quickly shutting the door behind her.
“Rolf, what’s wrong? What did he do to you?” Nicola put down the night clothes her maid had earlier set out on the counterpane and regarded her with concern. “You’re breathing heavily and your face is flushed. Calm down and tell me what just happened.”
“Disaster, that’s what happened. First he has the gall to kiss me and then he decides to scurry back to London so that he can propose to the wicked witch. Well, if that’s the news of importance he wishes to convey to me next week, I’ll clamp my hands over my ears and refuse to listen.”
“He kissed—”
“The idiot!” she said again and began to pace across their bedchamber. “What else can the news be but that he’s going to marry that dreadful woman? Obviously, we have to come up with another plan to keep him here all week.”
“But—”
“I know! Your uncle will have to feign a bout of… of… something hideous, I just don’t know what, but it has to be something serious enough to keep your brother here and yet not serious enough to have him maintain a constant vigil at your uncle’s bedside or he’ll soon realize your uncle was faking.” She continued to pace across the room. “But what sort of disease? Gout? Dyspepsia? Or some unspecified inflammation that will keep him indisposed for several days.”
Nicola intercepted her and clamped her hands on Rose’s shoulders. “My brother kissed you? When did this momentous event occur?”
Rose nodded. “Just now, but it doesn’t matter when it happened or even that it happened. Haven’t you been listening to me? He’s going to run off and marry Valentina. We have to stop him tonight. But how? I can’t go downstairs and talk to your uncle because Julian will see me and suspect something is amiss. He already suspects us of plotting mischief.”
Nicola eased her grip on Rose’s shoulders. “I’ll knock at their door as soon as I hear them come upstairs. They usually retire after they’re done with their glass of port so it won’t be long now. But you must go downstairs again and keep Julian distracted while we come up with another plan and put it into motion. There’s no way we can allow him to leave tomorrow morning.” She pursed her lips, now also lost in thoughts of their scheme. “Drugging my brother’s wine should be no problem, but how will we do it now?”
“Drugging him? That sounds awful. I don’t know. Think of something else, Nicola.”
“I’m trying my best. Stop pacing, Rolf. You’re distracting me.”
Rose sank onto her bed with a fretful sigh and then snapped her fingers. “I have it! He wouldn’t leave if there was a sudden report of poachers.”
“Brilliant! That’s how we’ll delay him until tomorrow. The footmen will prepare the abandoned hunting lodge right after daybreak to make it look as though these villains are using it as their meeting place, but we’ll definitely need more time. That tumbling wreck is an hour’s hard ride away, longer by carriage, and I doubt the staff can have it cleaned, er… I mean, set up to look like poachers reside there and have all in place before tomorrow afternoon or early evening.”
“But he’ll be gone by then.” Rose tried not to sound as alarmed as she felt. Now that Julian had stormed into her life, she didn’t want him storming out of it, especially not now that he’d kissed her in that magical and perfect way.
Nicola reached over and held up Rose’s nightgown that had been set out on Rose’s bed. It was a sheer, white linen material that clung gently to her curves because she had filled out a little more in her chest and hips in the last few months. “This might work.”
Rose had acquired new bed clothes along with all the new ball gowns, day gowns, and tea gowns that had been designed to her more womanly proportions. Frankly, she hadn’t wanted them, for she was appalled by how much her parents were spending on her debut. Few girls thought of financial matters, but she was determined to start her own decorative pottery and glassware business and was acutely aware of costs. Every pence saved could be applied toward her other four sisters who would make their come-outs over the next few years, and she had no wish to beggar her parents before any of them had their turn. “What might work? I don’t like the way your eyes are gleaming. I won’t do it, whatever it is you’re thinking to have me do.”
“You must or Julian will be lost to us forever. Do you want that to happen?” She didn’t wait for Rose’s response before continuing. “Put this on and get back downstairs. Let one sleeve casually slip over your shoulder while you speak to him.”
Rose rolled her eyes. “You’ve gone mad. I will not go downstairs dressed like that, or rather, undressed like that. And even if I did, what would I say to Julian?”
Nicola patted her on the shoulder. “It is obvious that you are rarely around virile young men or you would never ask such a question. If you approach him dressed like that, he won’t be listening to a thing you say. He’ll be too busy wondering what your body looks like under this flimsy gown and how fast he’ll descend into hell if he attempts to slip it off you to find out.” She shot Rose a smug smile. “The point is, he’ll stay another day or two—”
“Your brother is too honorable. He’ll flee immediately rather than stay and risk ruining my reputation.”
Nicola rolled her eyes. “Men are so predictable in that regard. My brother is no exception. He won’t leave. You must trust me on this, Rolf. He kissed you. That is of earth-shaking significance. Please, you can’t let that horrid countess win.”
Rose put her hands to her cheeks as they began to flame. “It can’t possibly work.”
Nicola was now smirking at her. “You’ll never know unless you try… Lorelei.”
“This is madness.” But she snatched the nightgown out of Nicola’s hands with a groan and then turned to face away from her. He had kissed her. Did that mean he would kiss her again? “Help me out of my clothes. And stop calling me Lorelei.”
She knew this latest scheme could only end in disaster for her. What if Julian laughed at her? Or was revolted by her? Or found her woefully lacking? “I shall never forgive you for talking me into this… this… enormous mistake.”
Nicola helped her out of her gown. “You’ll love me forever and finally admit that I’m as brilliant as your bluestocking sister. Well, almost as brilliant as Lily.”
Once undressed, Rose slipped the flimsy sheath over her head and then took a deep breath. She was about to admit defeat and beg out when Nicola began to pull the pins out of her hair. She attempted to resist, but to no avail. “Nicola! What are you doing?”
“You can’t leave your hair in a prim bun—it will ruin the effect. You must look like a siren, and everyone knows they have long, flowing tresses. You won’t intrigue anyone, certainly not my brother, with your hair coiled tight and your lips pursed in that sour expression. Stop scowling at me and shake your head so that your hair looks tousled as it cascades down your back.”
“I will not.” She turned to the mirror and began to braid her hair.
Nicola stopped her. “Don’t you dare. Leave it alone and get down to the business of seducing my brother. We’re crafting a moment here. You as an artist ought to understand the nuances of setting a mood, conveying a story. Your story is that you were preparing for bed and developed a sudden thirst for milk. You only meant to sneak downstairs to fetch a glass for yourself. Got it?”
Rose nodded halfheartedly, silently kicking herself for even considering thi
s ridiculous scheme. But if she didn’t do it, then Julian would leave and forever be trapped by the awful countess. “What if he’s ensconced himself in your uncle’s library with the door closed?”
“Are you being purposely dense, Rolf?” She sighed. “Then your story changes. You’ll steal into the library to retrieve a book to read in bed and be startled to find my brother there. Give me a believable look of surprise.”
Rose shot her another scowl.
“Excellent. You care for him, don’t you? I know that you do. Now get to work and do what you must to keep my brother here another day.”
“It isn’t work so much as folly,” she muttered and hurried downstairs before she lost her courage. In truth, she wasn’t a coward, but their ploy was doomed to failure. Julian was still outside on the terrace with his aunt and uncle. Pretending to go to the kitchen to fetch a glass of milk for herself would not work. He couldn’t see her tiptoeing down the hall unless he had the ability to see through brick walls.
“The library it is,” she muttered, although chances were slim he’d notice her in there either unless he happened to turn at just the right moment and catch a glimpse of the flimsy white fabric against the bookshelves. Even so, he’d have to be curious enough to leave the terrace and come into the library to investigate. The odds were against that happening.
In truth, she was relieved. Deceiving him felt terribly wrong. She and Nicola would simply have to catch him in the early morning and tell him the earl wasn’t feeling well. That was a much better plan. Still terribly wrong and deceptive, but it didn’t feel quite as bad because it was the earl who was pretending to be ill and not her. Failing that, they could use that made-up story about poachers.
However, she entered the library and decided to select a book for herself before she skittered off to bed. A lone sliver of moonlight shone in from the window so she used it as her light to read the spines of the books that were faintly illuminated by the moon’s glow. She dared not use a candle, for it would gleam too brightly and attract Julian’s attention. Despite Nicola’s entreaty, she was sorry she’d listened and come downstairs in her bedclothes. It was improper and ridiculous.
Having finally come to her senses and determined to retreat upstairs before anyone noticed her, she withdrew a large volume with an ornate, embossed red cover. “Oh, this looks interesting. Florentine art.”
“My favorite,” someone said with a throaty chuckle from behind her.
Julian. But how?
She licked her lips and willed her heart to stop leaping about like a startled frog. “Yes… er… the Italians are masters of the arts. Florentines, Venetians, Romans. Their paintings and statues are quite magnificent. I’m intrigued by their ability to create the most vivid colors that survived centuries of sunlight and wear. The Egyptians are also masters of color. Did you know…”
Her voice trailed off as he unfolded his crossed arms and moved toward her with purposeful grace, his strides long and slow, his approach like a lion who’d cornered his prey and was now merely savoring the game. Little did he realize that he was the prey being cut off from his herd and she was the bait to lure him away. Crumpets! His gaze never left hers as he held her in his thrall.
She felt trapped, but in a magical, transporting way, as though he were a powerful wizard who’d cast a spell on her. She licked her lips again, and finally tore her gaze away to awkwardly open the book and begin to fumble through it. Actually reading it was impossible for there wasn’t enough light and even if there were, her thoughts were in too much of a muddle to make sense of the words.
Whatever had possessed her to choose such a big, ungainly book? The dratted thing was as heavy as an anvil, but she wasn’t about to set it down. How could she when it served as the only barrier between her and Julian? “Haven’t you ever… um, wondered how those colors remain true… er, even after thousands of years? I’ve… um, learned that they mixed their paints with egg and—”
His hand gently fell on hers to stop her prattling. “You shouldn’t be down here dressed like that.”
“Well… heh, heh… oh, ha, ha…” She tried to give him a sultry look, but by his unchanging expression she knew she’d failed. “I didn’t think anyone would notice.” Her stomach began to churn. “Warm night. Hoped for a quick dash into the library and quicker hop back upstairs.”
“Where’s your dressing gown?”
She swallowed hard and tried to tear her gaze from his devastatingly appealing green eyes. “Oh, ha, ha… funny thing. I, er… um,… couldn’t, well. I don’t have it on.”
He arched an eyebrow. “I noticed.”
“You did?” She stifled the eep threatening the leap from her throat. Seduction wasn’t as easy as Nicola had led her to believe. “I couldn’t find it.” Not quite a lie, although she couldn’t find her dressing gown because she hadn’t bothered to look for it. And why should she? She knew exactly where it was. “And you may ask, why didn’t I simply borrow Nicola’s?”
He stood silent, his eyebrow still arched.
“Well, I didn’t think it was necessary. You were on the terrace with your aunt and uncle, and who knew you had the finely tuned senses of a bat? How did you know I was in here? Are you following me?” She pretended to take offense. “If it’s another kiss you’re after,” she said with a sniff, tipping her chin upward in feigned indignation, “you won’t get it.” Yes, toss him the challenge. What else could she do? Her seductive glances weren’t working.
Quite the opposite, he looked as though he wanted to explode with laughter each time she tossed him a come-hither look. She had no idea being sultry was so difficult.
“A kiss?” He edged closer, their lips achingly close because she’d made the tactical blunder of looking up at him. “It hadn’t crossed my mind.”
Of course not. Why would he want to kiss her again? He’d tried her out and found her lacking. She found him magnificent in every way and still couldn’t take her gaze off him. “As I was saying… oh, ha, ha… fascinating discovery… the ancients mixed egg and—”
He reached out to brush a stray curl off her forehead, the gesture stopping her heart as well as her tongue. “Your hair’s longer than I realized, and a deep gold, even in the moonlight.”
Her hair was the bane of her existence, long and quite unruly because of the thick curls that fell in a springy riot to her hips. “I ought to have braided it, I know. I shall when I return to my bedchamber.” She held the book tightly against her chest for protection, not against him but against her wayward heart. Thankfully, it was beating again, but rampantly and haphazardly. “Which I ought to do right now.”
But she couldn’t move. She was still rapt in the spell he didn’t realize he held over her. His expression hadn’t changed, but she felt a delicious danger in the way he continued to look at her. As for herself, she’d gone through possibly a thousand changes in her expression during this long, uncomfortable moment. Drat, he had a molten way of looking at her that set off little explosions of heat throughout her body.
She took a deep breath to calm herself.
And another… and another.
As she did so, one sleeve slipped off her shoulder leaving it bare. Eep! She shifted the heavy book into one hand and grabbed her sleeve with the other, but Julian let out a low, hungry growl and reached out at the same time to slip the errant fabric back over her shoulder. Their hands met, fingers entwining.
She quickly drew hers away. His remained resting lightly on her bare shoulder. “Rose,” he said in an agonized whisper, making no move to draw away.
He stroked his thumb along her bare skin.
She closed her eyes and took another deep breath to still her thunderously pounding heart. Was this really happening? She wanted to remember everything about this moment—the coolness of the night air, the sweet fragrance of medieval roses drifting in on the light breeze, the scent of books and polished bookshelves. The clean, rugged scent of Julian and the taste of port on his lips as he lowered his mout
h to hers and kissed her with a hot intensity she’d treasure always.
He eased the book she was desperately clutching out of her grasp. “No barriers between us, Rose. Not ever.” She heard a soft thud and felt a small vibration when the ungainly thing landed on the carpet beside them.
“No barriers,” she repeated in a squeaky whisper as his fingers slid under the delicate fabric, slipping it lower to cup her breast. Hot crumpets with clotted cream and strawberries piled high!
His palm felt warm and perfect against her flesh.
He drew her closer, one arm now around her waist and the other gently kneading the exposed mound. Then his mouth was no longer on hers but moving lower, his lips and tongue working magic on her throat, and nipping lightly at her shoulder, and… ooh, oh… oh! His lips closed over her nipple and he began to suckle and tease it into a hard bud with his tongue. Was she seducing him? Because it felt quite the other way around. She was ready to surrender everything to him.
A fiery heat built up within her and every part of her body began to throb with excitement. She wanted to touch him in the same way and wanted him to ease the pressure building up inside of her. “Julian.” She called his name in breathless wonder, winding her hands in his hair and arching her back to take in every hot sensation.
She wanted it all, but didn’t know what it was she wanted.
He knew and she suddenly felt cool air against her legs as he slid her nightgown upward to expose her legs to his touch.
She gasped and clutched his shoulders, her senses heightened and body eager to be consumed by his touch.
His hand immediately stilled between her legs. He lifted his mouth off her breast. “Hell, Rose.” He sounded tortured and in deep agony. “I’m… this is why I have to leave. I can’t resist you, but I must. I’ll only hurt you.”
“You’d never hurt me. You were gentle with me. Wonderful.”
He moaned as though she’d cut him with a knife. “This can’t be. Not now, at this worst possible moment.” He slipped the bodice back into place to cover her breast and smoothed the rest of the fabric down over her legs, trying in vain to put her back in order. But there was nothing orderly about her desire for this man. “I had better leave tonight. Right now.”