Tis the Season to Be Sinful

by Adrienne Basso

  George instantly blanked his features. “I know what you’re thinking, Richard. It’s not the differences in our social position that prompt such a response against a courtship,” George replied defensively. “You should know me well enough by now to understand my views on the subject. Marriage should only be undertaken in the most dire, extenuating circumstances. Or at gunpoint.”

  A rumble of amusement escaped from Richard’s chest. George was a confirmed bachelor and likely to stay that way for the rest of his life—a course of action Richard might have previously agreed was prudent. But he was slowly coming to realize the benefits that a good match could bring to a man. As long as the relationship remained on reasonable terms.

  She had no idea he would be away for so long.

  After recovering from his abrupt departure, Juliet found herself too busy to feel a true sense of loss at his absence. Awash in her newfound financial freedom, she plunged headlong into the task of directing the renovation and redecoration of the manor. It gave her a tremendous sense of purpose and as each room was finished, an enormous sense of satisfaction.

  With money no object, she was able to make the choices she wanted and her confidence soared at the results of her efforts. She had taken on the challenge partly as a way to prove herself to her new husband. Yet in the end, Juliet realized the experience had given her a sense of self-worth at a time when she most needed it.

  No, she had not initially missed Richard when he had so abruptly left her the morning after their wedding. But then they began to exchange letters. The stiff, formal, almost businesslike tone had been daunting to read, making Juliet feel as though writing to her was yet one more obligation he was reluctantly undertaking.

  However, gradually the tone, along with the content of Richard’s letters, began to change. A dry wit shone through, along with a dedication to his work she found admirable. Yet most intriguing was his honest interest in her opinion and his willingness to defer to her decisions. She felt more of an equal with Richard than she had with any man she had ever known, and this surprising feeling was heady stuff indeed.

  As the seasons gradually changed and the days apart turned into weeks, then months, Juliet started longing for her husband. Their correspondence kept them connected, but it was no substitute for spending time in each other’s company. Thankfully the children, and keeping busy, helped Juliet from falling into melancholy.

  Yet there were times when she was seized by the ridiculous idea of packing a bag and taking a train to London. ’Twas only the worry that her unexpected, unannounced arrival might be met with a lukewarm response that held her back.

  “Mr. Harper will be returning early tomorrow afternoon,” Juliet announced breathlessly, after tearing into Richard’s newly arrived letter. She continued reading, and then paused at the next paragraph. Troubled, she glanced over at Mr. Barclay as he busily made notations for the painters. Sensing her eyes upon him, he looked up, his expression openly curious.

  “Is anything wrong, Mrs. Harper?”

  “Not exactly.” Juliet cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Mr. Harper will be bringing a new secretary with him.”

  “I see.” Mr. Barclay slowly lowered his pen. “I knew it would happen. He is very busy and cannot function adequately without assistance.” The secretary cleared his throat. “There is still one wing of the manor that needs attention. I would like to continue working with you, if that is not too presumptuous of me to assume you would want me to continue as your assistant.”

  “I’d be delighted,” Juliet answered quickly. “I was going to ask, but frankly I wasn’t certain you found the work all that interesting. After shadowing my husband for several months, I presumed renovating a house must be quite dull in comparison.”

  “There is no question that the pace of working for Mr. Harper is much different. He is a brilliant man and it was an honor to be in his employ.” Mr. Barclay leaned close. “If I may be so bold as to beg a confidence, ma’am?”

  Juliet’s eyes widened. “You may.”

  “Mr. Harper made me so nervous there were times when I broke out in a cold sweat at the sound of his voice.”

  “Oh, Mr. Barclay.”

  “It’s true.” The young man nodded his head vigorously. “I’m none too proud of my cowardliness, but working with you these past few months has shown me that I can do a good job when I’m not feeling so anxious. Can’t I?”

  “You can indeed!” Juliet responded immediately, wondering if Richard was aware of this problem. Was that the real reason he left Mr. Barclay behind? “I would be forever in your debt if you agreed to continue working with me.”

  Mr. Barclay colored and grinned down at the desk. “I would be honored.”

  “Good, it’s settled. I’ll inform Mr. Harper of our decision when he returns home tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow. A shuddering sensation of excitement took over Juliet’s body. Her husband was returning just as the holiday preparations were starting to take shape. It would be a time of family celebration, a time when he could relax and enjoy himself. A time when they could build upon the bond they had forged through their letters and establish a solid marital relationship.

  Juliet had long believed Christmas was a time for miracles, a time when anything was possible. Even in the lean years, there had always been fun and laughter on the days leading up to the holiday, along with traditions to be shared on Christmas Day and continuing beyond till Twelfth Night.

  Oh, yes, Juliet was preparing to make this a holiday celebration Richard would never forget. Though a tad anxious, she knew her own joy and belief in the magic of Christmas would make it an easy task.

  Juliet was very aware, however, that her true challenge was going to be convincing Richard to stay at Highgrove once the celebrations were over.

  Chapter 7

  For once the blasted train ran on time and it was Richard who was late. He had hoped to catch an early morning train and arrive at the estate in time for luncheon, but last-minute business delayed his departure from London by hours.

  His mood was therefore not the best when he finally reached Highgrove, a silent and slightly disheveled Miss Hardie at his side.

  “Welcome home, Mr. Harper,” the footman said as he assisted the carriage driver with the luggage.

  Richard acknowledged the warm greeting with a slight nod, then motioned for Miss Hardie to follow. They had taken but a few steps when a happy, high-pitched voice yelled out, “You’re here!”

  Startled, Richard turned and saw two children rushing toward him. The boy was carrying a shield and a wooden sword, which he slashed dramatically through the air as he ran. The girl was wearing a white pinafore with a mud-stained hem and had somehow secured a long blue silk scarf on her head like a veil.

  Richard twitched uneasily when the miniature knight and his lady reached him. “You’re late. You were supposed to be here for lunch,” the boy said without preamble.

  Richard opened his mouth to explain, then clamped it shut. He owed no one an explanation, especially this cheeky young fellow.

  Unfazed, the little girl wrapped her arms tightly around his legs. “You’re here,” she repeated, rubbing her cheek against the side of his leg. “We’ve been waiting all day for you.”

  They had? Why?

  “Would you like to see my new pony?” the boy asked eagerly. “I named him King Arthur.”

  Truthfully, he’d rather walk back to London. Barefoot. Richard cleared his throat uncomfortably, but he was saved from answering by the appearance of a stout, middle-aged woman. She came bounding through the front door at a fast trot, skidding to a halt when she spied them.

  “James! Lizzy! At last. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Get inside this house at once before you catch your death in this cold!” The woman turned to Richard. “I beg your pardon, sir, I thought Lizzy was still in the nursery. Master James finished his lessons with his tutor early and decided to have a bit of an adventure. Naturally Lizzy tagged along. She does adore her brot
hers.”

  The woman carefully pried Lizzy off Richard’s leg and held the little girl firmly by the hand. “I’m Mrs. Bickford, the children’s governess.”

  “Richard Harper,” he replied sharply. “And this is Miss Hardie, my secretary.”

  The governess’s eyes widened at that news, but she soon recovered. “Mr. Harper, merciful heavens! It’s a pleasure meeting you. Welcome home.” She executed an awkward curtsy. “Come along now, children, don’t pester Mr. Harper. He’s tired from his journey.”

  There were groans and protests but Mrs. Bickford would not be persuaded. Thank God. As he watched her lead the reluctant pair away, Richard decided that whatever he was paying her wasn’t nearly enough.

  Miss Hardie shifted uneasily beside him.

  “Those were two of my wife’s children,” he said by way of an explanation.

  “So I assumed,” she replied primly. Her surprise at their unrestrained exuberance echoed his, and Richard was once again struck by his secretary’s common sense. “They appear to be very fond of you,” she added.

  “I can’t imagine why,” he muttered. Almost fearing what he might next encounter, Richard pressed ahead and gingerly entered the manor.

  Once in the grand foyer, he was met with another “welcome home” by the housekeeper, who sent a footman to summon his wife. He had just surrendered his overcoat, hat, and gloves when Juliet appeared at the top of the staircase. She let out a small sound of delight—or was it distress—then glided quickly down the stairs.

  He watched her descent with fascination. She was wearing a sapphire blue gown of the finest silk. It was cut low in the front and hugged her body in all the right places, showcasing an hourglass figure. A few wisps of her rich brown hair had tumbled from their pins, and her cheeks were flushed a rosy hue from her quick run down the long staircase.

  “Richard, welcome home!” She was the fourth person to say those exact words to him, yet falling from her lips, they sounded fresh and new and real.

  Was he truly home?

  “Juliet, I regret my tardiness, but important business delayed my departure from town.”

  “No matter, you are here now.” She smiled broadly and took his hands in hers.

  He had a momentary impulse to lean forward and kiss her. A proper greeting for a wife, but the familiar gesture made him uncomfortable, especially in front of others.

  Almost as if she knew what he was thinking, Juliet gave his hand a gentle squeeze. Richard nearly groaned, his body responding instantly to the pressure. Aroused, he looked into her dark brown eyes. “It’s good to see you.”

  She smiled and his resistance weakened. Then he heard a quiet cough. Juliet glanced away from his face toward the direction of the sound, her eyes growing round as she beheld Miss Hardie. She pulled away, letting go of his hands. “You’ve brought a guest?”

  “What? No! She isn’t a guest. This is Miss Hardie, my new secretary.”

  “Oh . . . I . . .” Juliet faltered. “Strange, you never mentioned that your new secretary was a Miss.” Her eyes took on a peculiar glint as she struggled to be cordial. “’Tis good to meet you, Miss Hardie.”

  “And you also, Mrs. Harper.”

  “Mrs. Perkins, please escort Miss Hardie to the green suite,” Juliet said. “I think that bedchamber will do nicely for her.”

  “Certainly. Right this way, miss,” the housekeeper said.

  Miss Hardie silently sought Richard’s permission. At his nod, she turned and went with Mrs. Perkins. The other servants also melted away, leaving Richard and Juliet alone.

  “Your secretary?” Juliet turned a skeptical eye in his direction and he nearly burst out laughing. She appeared jealous. Over Miss Hardie?

  “You have Mr. Barclay. Why can’t I have Miss Hardie?” Richard asked with a sly grin.

  “That is not in any way the same sort of—” She cut herself off abruptly, narrowing her eyes. “Are you laughing at me, Richard Harper?”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, Mrs. Harper.”

  He took a step toward her and then another. Her breath hitched as the awareness between them became almost unbearable.

  “Would you like to see the house?” she asked in a quivering voice. “As I wrote to you, the renovation is completed on many of the rooms.”

  “Later,” he said in a husky voice. “After I’ve said a proper hello to my wife.”

  A shudder racked her delicate frame. Her body leaned heavily against his, her face turned into his chest. He lowered his head until his breath fanned her cheek, waiting for her surrender. He could see the rapid rise and fall of her breasts as she strained to control her obvious need. He stared down at them with growing interest, his heart beating in an irregular rhythm.

  Without warning, Juliet groaned and tilted her chin, capturing his mouth with hers. The kiss caught him by surprise and the intensity of his own reaction astonished him. The feel of her lips and tongue staggered his senses. He had never before been kissed with such deep longing, such unabashed joy.

  Control slipping, Richard kissed her harder, pressing her back against the front door. Her hands cradled his head as she encouraged him, drawing her leg up the outside of his. He had a wild fantasy of reaching under Juliet’s skirts to tear away her undergarments, releasing his stiff, pulsating cock from the confines of his trousers and then entering her body.

  Right there. Right now. In the entrance foyer.

  Christ!

  Before he lost complete control, Richard tore his lips from hers and pulled her against his chest. They stood together, impossibly close, breaths ragged, pulses jumping.

  “I suppose I won’t mind it so much next time you leave, if you promise to kiss me like that when you return,” Juliet said, her words muffled in his shirt.

  “I should have taken an earlier train.” Richard hugged her tighter, trying to remember the most direct route to her bedchamber.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “One that left months ago.”

  Her words were like a bucket of cold water thrown over his head. Releasing an unsteady sigh, Richard slowly eased his grip and pulled away. He could feel her eyes trained intently upon his face, but refused to meet them.

  Richard didn’t dwell on things from the past that he couldn’t change, nor did he make promises he was certain he couldn’t keep. And being gently rebuked over his long absence was a stark reminder of the complications that could occur between a married couple.

  The expectations of a woman could turn a sane man to madness. He was unprepared to negotiate the tangle of a woman’s needs and feelings. He had a business to run and expand, profits to be made. There was simply no time for it. Not if one strove to do it properly.

  He tried to face his wife calmly. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to speak with Miss Hardie about some correspondence that must be sent in the morning post.”

  Juliet reached out and caught his hand. His flesh sizzled; it was the authoritative, possessive touch of someone who knew she had the right to make demands on him. His mind was not enamored of the situation, but his body responded with primal intimacy, hardening instantly.

  “I understand that you have responsibilities and I admire you for taking them so seriously.” Her eyes sparkled with emotion. “Dinner will be served at seven thirty. Please don’t be late.”

  She bestowed a devastating smile upon him before turning and walking away, confusing him further. Was she angry? Hurt? Disappointed?

  He fought the urge to chase after her, not knowing what he would say. Instead, he stood alone in the foyer, wrestling his lust into submission, wondering how he was going to keep his mind occupied and his body calm until seven thirty.

  Juliet kept herself busy until it was time to dress for dinner. She sat in the nursery with the children while they ate their supper, deflecting their endless questions about Richard by changing the subject to the upcoming Christmas holiday.

  Lizzy’s eyes shone as brightly as newly minted pennies each time they spoke of the decorations, s
pecial activities, and traditional foods. James repeatedly asked if they would be able to take the carriage sleigh to church on Christmas Eve, quieting only when Juliet assured him that as long as there was snow—an unlikely occurrence—they would take the sleigh.

  Even Edward displayed enthusiasm when she announced he was old enough to be given the honor of reading aloud for everyone the story of the first Christmas on Christmas Eve.

  “Will there be a tree this year, Mama?” James wanted to know.

  Juliet hugged Lizzy, pressing her cheek on the little girl’s curls to hide her sudden rush of tears. Displaying a freshly cut evergreen in the drawing room and decorating it with ribbons and bows, nuts and fruits, handmade decorations and small candles had been a tradition Henry started a few years before his death.

  Overcome with sadness and loss, Juliet had been unable to embrace this holiday favorite without him, never fully realizing how much the children would miss it. Until now.

  “You remember the tree?” she asked her son softly. He had been four that last Christmas they were all together.

  “A little,” James admitted shyly. “Edward talks about it all the time.”

  “I do not!”

  “Do too!”

  “Boys!” Juliet’s sharp tone abruptly ended the argument. “If you are going to misbehave, we will have to stop talking about Christmas.”

  “Now see what you’ve done,” Edward said accusingly to James.

  “It’s not my fault,” James countered.

  “Is too!”

  “Is not!”

  “Enough! Apologize to each other,” Juliet commanded. “Now.”

  They both turned to her, looking astonished at the very idea. Juliet crossed her arms and glared as sternly as possible. Seeing that she meant business, the boys exchanged muttered apologies. “And . . .” Juliet prompted.

  “I’m sorry, Mama,” James said sincerely.

  “Sorry,” Edward mumbled, barely looking at her.

  Goodness. And they said that women were temperamental. These days Juliet barely knew what to make of Edward’s sudden bursts of temper, his uncharacteristic contrary attitude. It seemed that no matter what she said or did, it was wrong in his eyes. And worse, he was starting to show his disapproval.