Well, here was his chance to prove that he was worth a dozen of that weasel Gawain of Assisi. Taking her in his arms, he planted a ruthless kiss on her mouth.
She stiffened in surprise. But only for as long as it took to gasp. With her second breath she was melting into his embrace like butter in a hot skillet.
When a footman opened the carriage door, she yelped in surprise. The footman withdrew in haste, though he remained standing in his position, holding the door open for them to alight.
Julia’s face was beet red as he handed her out of the coach. She looked anywhere but at the footman. Though he’d already averted his eyes and adopted the wooden expression of an underling who was pretending he hadn’t seen what he’d just seen.
Before she had a chance to do or say anything to ruin his plan, he hefted her into his arms and carried her into the house.
‘What are you doing?,’ she hissed into his ear. ‘How could you embarrass me like that? Like this?’
‘Easily,’ he replied as he swept past the butler, and up the stairs.
He set her on her feet only when they’d reached her room and he’d kicked the door closed behind them.
‘You are too fragile to face anyone just yet,’ he explained, stepping back from her, just a touch.
‘Fragile?’ She looked affronted.
‘And too proud to admit it. I have just given you the perfect excuse to stay out of sight until you do feel ready to resume your duties for the day.’
‘I... You...oh!’ Her face worked as she fought for composure. ‘You are right,’ she admitted, her shoulders slumping.
‘Damn you, you want to add, I dare say.’
She lifted her chin, a mutinous glint in her eye. ‘I would never descend to using such language.’
‘But you wish you could. You’d feel better for it.’ He placed his hat on the table by the door, removed his gloves and dropped them inside it, then crossed the room to make use of the bell pull.
‘We will need supplies,’ he explained, when she looked at him in a mixture of exasperation and confusion. ‘Enough to last us until you are fit to return to active duty.’ He went to her side and removed the furs from her shoulders.
‘Mabel can do that,’ she snapped, taking a step back.
‘Ah, but it will look much more the thing if you are a bit less...dressed,’ he said, tugging the ribbons of her bonnet undone, ‘by the time the maid gets up here. A bit more...’ he tossed the bonnet aside, and set to work on the buttons of her coat ‘...ruffled.’
When she opened her mouth to make another protest, he silenced her with a kiss. A long kiss. A kiss in which their tongues duelled for mastery. A kiss which left them both heated and shaking with desire.
When the maid eventually did arrive, Julia looked delightfully ruffled. As well as bemused, and a bit cross. Like a kitten who’d just had her fur stroked the wrong way.
‘We need hot drinks,’ he informed the smiling maid. ‘And a loaf of bread, butter, preserves, and a toasting fork.’
The maid bobbed a curtsy and left.
‘A toasting fork?’ Julia eyed him with confusion.
‘I’m hungry,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Aren’t you?’
One of her hands went to her stomach. ‘Yes. I could eat something. But...’
‘Come,’ he said, taking hold of her other hand. ‘Let’s sit by the fire.’
She eyed him warily as he pulled her down onto the hearthrug.
‘Don’t worry. I’m not going to pounce.’ Did just the tiniest hint of disappointment flicker across her face? ‘Yes, we would enjoy it. Both of us. But we will enjoy making...toast together, too.’
Her face flushed. But the tense set of her mouth relaxed. Which was a start. He couldn’t resort to kissing her crotchets away every time they hit a snag. He wanted their marriage to be about more than just physical pleasure. So they were going to have to learn to get along with each other out of bed, as well as in it. And right now, while she was unwilling to leave the shelter he was providing for her, was as good a time as any to start creating new connections. To do something as harmless, and as pleasant, as kneeling on the hearthrug, toasting bread. To show her that she had a new companion now, rather than just telling her.
A companion who was worth ten of either of her childhood playmates.
‘I...I do like toast,’ she admitted shyly. Then gave him a smile that rocked him on his heels. For she’d never looked at him like that before. As though he’d just done something utterly wonderful. As though he’d provided the answer to how she was going to get through the day.
As though he could be her answer to anything.
* * *
Who would have thought being married to Alec could be so...pleasant? Julia raised her arms above her head, stretching her whole body like a cat. She felt like a cat. A cat who’d got at the cream, she smiled. Beside her lay the man she’d only met a handful of days ago. The man she’d accidentally coerced into marriage. The man who hadn’t cavilled at his fate, but simply decided to make the best of it.
And what a best it was turning out to be. Not only could he drive her wild with pleasure in bed, but she was starting to enjoy just...just talking to him. Or doing something as silly as kneeling on the hearth toasting bread. Or walking briskly round the gardens first thing, before the day began to make demands upon them which invariably separated them until mealtimes.
He’d even made mealtimes more enjoyable. He only had to meet her eye across the table, with a certain slight lift to one eyebrow, to let her know that he was completely in tune with the way she was feeling. And afterwards, he’d confirm it by saying exactly the kind of thing she’d thought about various of her relatives for years, but had never had the freedom to say openly.
Not even with Marianne.
She’d never had real discussions with Marianne. Whereas Alec—and oh, how she was starting to relish the way his name rolled off her tongue—Alec spoke his mind. Behind closed doors, that was. And the more he spoke, the more she was beginning to think they might be able to forge the kind of marriage she’d always hoped to have. A meeting of minds. A sort of close and loving friendship.
A better, truer sort of friendship than she’d shared with David, or Marianne, who, actually, she realised, had never been true friends at all. Now that she knew Marianne had always been jealous of her, and resentful of her lot in life, she’d started looking on their time together in a new light. And what that light shone on their relationship threw up a lot of ugly, dark shadows.
What stood out the most, though, was the way that Marianne always managed to make her feel big and fat and ungainly. She’d always thought it was just because Marianne was so slight, and dark, and elegant. But now she recalled dozens of innocuous little remarks that had gradually built up into a mountain of insecurity. The masquerade, for instance. Marianne had made such a production of getting the dress done up, but if she’d really been putting such a strain on the fastenings, at least one of them would have given way during the course of the evening, considering the activities she’d performed in it. It was, without question, a snugger fit than any other gown she’d ever worn, but not a button had popped, not a seam had split. In fact, Nellie herself had said that the dress looked better on her. Every single man she’d met had positively drooled at the sight of her in it.
She was going to have all her gowns made to fit better, rather than having them all cut loose to disguise what she’d previously thought of as a lumpish body.
Alec didn’t think her body was lumpish at all. He adored it. He thought her breasts magnificent, and her bottom, lush. And if he said that, then he meant it. He’d always been honest with her. Had been brutally honest, to begin with. Though even then, it had never been with intent to wound. Which, she found, made all the difference.
For the first time in her life
, he’d made her feel as if there was nothing wrong with her after all. Her older brothers had always despised her for being Papa’s pet. The younger ones naturally preferred each other’s company. And even Papa only praised her for the attributes he decided came from her mother, rather than all of her, exactly as she was.
‘Are you staring at me again, woman?’
She came out of her reverie to note that Alec’s eyes were half-open, and a slow, rather arrogant smile was spreading across his wickedly clever mouth.
She shut her eyes swiftly, but not swiftly enough. He chuckled.
‘You don’t need to pretend you don’t like looking at me,’ he growled.
She screwed her eyes tighter shut as her cheeks flamed. She did need to pretend she didn’t like looking at him. Because it was highly improper. Ladies didn’t ogle men when they were shaving, or lick their lips at the sight of a bare, hair-roughened chest. Or lay and gaze at the curve of a shoulder in the firelight, marvelling at the beauty of masculine musculature.
‘I like looking at you, when you are unclothed, too,’ he said.
His admission pulled her in two opposing directions at once. She knew he liked the sight of her body. She’d just been lying there reflecting on how wonderful it made her feel when he told her. What a thrill she’d get when he buried his face between her breasts and sigh, as though he’d found a sort of heaven.
And yet she still couldn’t get used to this sort of licentious talking. It was highly improper to hear a man talking about parts of her body she’d been brought up to believe weren’t polite to mention. Especially when he’d had his hands on them. Or his mouth. Or other, unmentionable parts of his body.
And, oh, heavens, just letting her mind drift in that direction was making her go all heated inside.
‘I should be getting up,’ she said, darting free of the covers just before his hand could close over its target. ‘I have so much to do today.’
‘Another ball?’
His mouth tightened as she thrust her arms into her wrapper, her feet into fleece-lined slippers.
‘I know it must look to you as though my life is just one long round of parties,’ she explained as she crossed the room to ring for hot water. ‘But, you see, at Christmas, Papa fulfils a great many of his obligations to his people. While he is in residence at Ness, he always extends invitations to everyone in the county that matters. As well as the locals, and the extended family. Some days he takes parties of local worthies out shooting, and then he relies on me to make sure their wives and daughters are looked after within doors. And there isn’t anyone else to do it. Nick’s wife...’ She pulled a face.
‘I get the distinct impression that when your brother comes into the title, all the hospitality will cease.’
‘I wouldn’t be a bit surprised.’ She sighed. ‘He doesn’t seem to think that he owes anybody anything. The tenants, as far as he is concerned, are only there to provide him with the means to live in luxury. I worry,’ she said, settling her hip on the edge of the bed when he held out his hand to her. ‘About what will happen to the estate once Papa...goes.’
‘I can understand that particular mix of interest and impotence,’ he said, surprising her because she’d half-expected him to say it wasn’t her concern.
‘You know my own lands are mortgaged. That there is nothing much I can do for my tenants, but it doesn’t stop me wishing...’
‘But you could redeem those mortgages now, couldn’t you?’ She’d blurted it before she had time to consider how prickly he was about spending her money on himself. When he started to scowl, she hurried on. ‘I know you have scruples about what you call squandering my money, but you wouldn’t be squandering it, as far as I’m concerned. You would be investing it for our children. For your estates, your heritage, will be their inheritance, won’t it?’
Oh, heavens, if he did decide to redeem the mortgages, and put his estates to rights, it would mean going to live in Scotland. All the way up there in Scotland. She swallowed. Julia had never visited Scotland. It was supposed to be very rugged, but in a way that many people found beautiful.
Well, if he did decide to go there, she would just have to find it beautiful as well. And if she didn’t...
Oh, why was she even thinking about it? He was just as likely to go back to sea and leave her behind. And until he’d made up his mind what to do, there was no point in worrying about it.
‘Well, anyway,’ she continued with forced brightness as he continued to glower down at their joined hands, ‘there are only really two more significant events before the house party breaks up. Tonight’s New Year Ball, and then the Twelfth Night festivities. Tonight’s ball is one that all the local worthies will attend. And many of them who come from further away will need rooms, which is why I will be so busy today, making sure everything is ready for their arrival.
‘But the Twelfth Night celebration is mainly for the household. The family, and any guests who wish to take part, put on an entertainment for the staff, by way of thanks. And the day after that, all our guests will leave. So...’ She played with his fingers, looking at them rather than at the expression on his face. Or rather, the lack of expression she would find should she look into his eyes. It was as if he didn’t want her to know what he was thinking. Which was extremely annoying. How was she to know what he wanted if he would neither tell her, nor give her a clue?
Clearly, the only way to find out would be to ask him outright.
‘I was just wondering, what we shall be doing? You mentioned going to London, to lay siege to the Admiralty. Will you still wish to do that? Or...I mean, I understand why you became angry with me last time I suggested using our family house. It was tactless of me. It is just that I am in the habit of getting it opened up for the Season. It was more of a habit, and I spoke without thinking...’
‘Julia,’ he said, squeezing her hand. ‘You don’t need to keep on apologising. You meant no harm. I can see that now.’
‘Well, do you think you might consider it then? As a form of...compensation for having to marry me? I know you didn’t want to. And I know you don’t want people to think you are...sponging off my family either. But, Alec, everyone makes use of family connections. And only think what an advantage it will be to launch Lizzie from the house in Belgrave Square. You want her to have the best start in life you can provide, don’t you?’
He shook his head, though his mouth was curving into a rueful smile.
‘I’m not going to be able to stop you flinging yourself into my affairs, am I?’
‘Well, but—’
‘I know, I know. And you will say it is for my own good.’
‘But—’
‘No. Just listen to me,’ he said sternly. ‘Lizzie won’t be ready for a Season this year. And when she is...’
‘When she is, she will need every advantage she can get. The Season is a cut-throat business, Alec. Girls get...mown down.’
‘I can see,’ he said, ‘that you are determined to help me, whether I want you to or not.’
‘Well, I’m your wife. That is what wives do.’
‘Is it?’ He searched her face as though he really hadn’t a clue what wives were for.
But then, he hadn’t been looking for one when he came to Ness Hall, had he?
Chapter Eleven
She was heartily relieved to hear the knock on the door heralding the arrival of her hot water and drinking chocolate. Because it had hurt to realise that Alec didn’t want to receive anything from her.
‘I shall go and get dressed now,’ she informed him with a tight smile.
She went to the dressing room in Betty’s wake. Usually she let him go first so that she could lie on her side, watching through the door he’d leave half-open as he washed and shaved. There was something so appealing about the way he dressed himself. So casually
assured in his masculinity.
But she didn’t want to this morning. Their discussion had left her feeling all on edge. She was trying her hardest to be a good wife to him, and he just kept on...putting her in her place.
Which confused her. Because every so often he seemed to be growing almost fond of her. Look at the way he’d kissed her hand at Marianne’s wedding, for no apparent reason. Or the way he’d smiled at her, just now, when he’d said he could see she would always be flinging herself into his business.
She’d known that marrying a stranger was going to require a great many compromises if they weren’t to make each other miserable. And she could have taken them all in her stride if only she wasn’t starting to have such strong feelings for him. If she wasn’t starting to wonder how he felt about her. But as it was...
She drew in a sharp, painful breath as she worked the soap into a lather.
She was no good at working out what people truly felt for her, that was the trouble. She’d believed David and Marianne loved her as much as she loved them, but they hadn’t even liked her.
She couldn’t, she simply couldn’t tell Alec that she was glad they were married, and that she was starting to look forward to spending the rest of her life with him. He might...laugh at her. Or say she was fickle for transferring her feelings from one man to another so swiftly. Or fire up in annoyance, and tell her that he was making the best of a bad job, but that the last thing he wanted to be was married.
Or even worse, look at her with pity. Which he might actually feel if he couldn’t return her affection, because he was a kind man, beneath that gruff exterior.
But as for what he really thought—how could she tell? How could anyone tell what went on behind those cool grey eyes? He could say he loved her breasts one minute, and the next, flare up with irritation over a perfectly innocuous remark.
She’d been pleased as anything when he’d said she was generous. Yet he’d criticised that very generosity later, telling her it wasn’t pleasant being on the receiving end of charity. Which had made her feel the way David had so often made her feel. When he’d given a compliment with one hand then taken it away with the other.
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