by Carla Kelly
Pulling up the collar of his coat, he followed the path as it curved along the island and stopped at the very small three-sided structure made of wood and stacked stone. Just like years ago, inside were two rowboats with oars. Now they had a faster way off the island. They could return to Gabriel’s house where they would spend the rest of the holiday with their families gathered around them before they started their life together in their new house in London.
But Juliet had not been agreeable to talking to him much before their wedding. It would be much easier to avoid each other with their family members around.
He looked back at the path he had just walked down. Over the tops of the trees he could see the smoke curling from the cottage chimney. Someone would find them, eventually.
The temperature was dropping and he rubbed his gloved hands together to try to generate some heat. With a nod of determination, he walked back to the house and to Juliet.
* * *
The fire Monty had made was a piece of heaven. Now Juliet was finally able to feel the rug under her feet and wiggle her toes. Her cheeks were no longer stinging and her lower legs were not burning from the ice-covered pelisse and gown that had been wrapped around them.
She buried her nose in the collar of Monty’s coat and filled her lungs with that slight cinnamon scent. She was finding it rather comforting. And his calm reassurance that he would find a way for them to get off the island had done much to alleviate her sense of panic. She knew it was dangerous to trust him at his word. He had lied to her before and it had cost her her heart. But if believing that he knew a way off the island kept her calm, then she would choose to believe him. However, she knew not to open her heart to him again. He would only devastate her with his lies.
She couldn’t simply wait by the fire for Monty to come back. Staring at the flames was reminding her of the love letters that he had written to her the one week they were together that she had burned. She shoved her arms into the too-long sleeves of his coat and poked around the cottage. There was a bottle of brandy and some glasses in the wooden cabinet near the table, along with extra blankets, a jar of what looked like some sort of jam, a tea caddy and some cups and plates. She took the iron pot that Monty had taken down from where it hung in the inglenook and placed it outside the door to catch snow. If she collected enough, they could melt it and make tea—if there was, in fact, tea in the locked wooden box. She would leave it up to Monty to figure out how to unlock it.
The cottage was warm now and there was no need to wear his coat, so she hung it on a peg by the door, and wrapped one of the blankets around her shoulders. She took the bottle of brandy and glasses with her to the large wingback chair and snuggled in to keep an eye on the fire as she waited for Monty to return.
She didn’t have to wait too long before the door opened and the wind brought in snowflakes along with the cold air. He tossed a small bunch of greenery on the floor and hung his hat on another peg by the door. Walking towards her, Monty combed his fingers through his hair and placed his snow-covered tailcoat by the fire to dry. She had never seen him in just his shirtsleeves and waistcoat before and found she rather liked looking at his wide shoulders and his bicep muscles that were visible through the linen of his shirt.
He smiled as he approached her chair and she handed him the blanket she had taken out for him.
‘I thought you might need this since you went out without your coat.’
He shook out the blanket and covered up those shoulders and arm muscles. ‘What do you have there?’ he asked, eyeing the bottle next to her while he leaned his hip against her chair.
‘The label says it’s brandy.’
‘And where did you find that treasure?’
‘It was in the cabinet along with some blankets, a tea caddy, a jar of what might be jam and some glasses and cups. Do you think your brother would mind if we opened it?’
‘I don’t see why we would even need to tell him.’ He gave her an irresistibly devastating grin. ‘However, given these circumstances I’m sure he would understand.’
Juliet handed him the bottle and he poured two fingers’ worth of brandy in both of the glasses she held. She had never tasted brandy before, but if there was a day to try it, that day was today. He put the bottle down beside her chair and took the glass she offered.
‘Have you been able to warm up?’ he asked, eyeing the blanket she was wrapped up in.
‘I have, thank you.’
‘You appear remarkably calm for a woman trapped on an island.’
‘You’re smart. I remember how you were adept at handling difficult situations. Except, of course, when it came to the situation in the Ashcrofts’ library. I’m certain you have a way for us to get off this island. I do not trust you with much, but I trust that you are capable and will keep us safe.’
He stood a bit taller and pushed his shoulders back.
‘So, what is your plan?’ She eyed the amount of brandy in her glass and missed the slight hesitation before he answered her.
‘I know a way off the island.’ He took a long sip of his drink. ‘Eventually someone at the house will notice we have not returned with the mistletoe. Gabriel will send out a search party. Once they spy the smoke from this fire, they will come here to get us.’
‘But what if they do not see the smoke? What will we do then?’
‘They will come, Juliet. Maybe not until tonight, but they will come. I will tend to the fire until they do.’ He walked closer to the hearth and stared at the flames. ‘Might I propose we share that chair?’ he asked, turning his head to look at her.
He had been outside in the cold and was doing his best to try to make her as comfortable as possible. How could she make him sit on the floor, or on one of those wooden chairs that were around the table?
‘If you can find room for yourself on here, I am willing to share it.’
He held his hand out to help her up. ‘I need to sit down first, you can go on my lap.’
‘I didn’t agree to that.’ Sitting on his lap would involve too much touching. His arms might go around her. She hated that she still wanted to feel the warmth from his skin and that had nothing to do with how cold it was outside.
‘Well, I’m not going to sit on the arm. I’m tired and want to sit in a comfortable chair.’ He tilted his chin down and looked at her through his lashes. ‘And, body heat is the best way to stay warm.’ He was peering at her intently now.
Something intense flared through her. She could relinquish the chair to him and sit somewhere else. As she glanced around the room, her gaze landed on the bed. The chair was definitely the preferable option. ‘Oh, very well,’ she said, standing up.
He sat down and moved his glass of brandy to the side so she could sit on his lap without spilling it. It was impossible to sit upright and stiff on his lap. The feel of the muscles in his legs and the firmness of his chest had her softening into him. His arm slid around her waist to hold her and tingling sensations ran through her body.
Juliet stared at her brandy a bit dubiously. Monty clinked his glass to hers and took a drink. Juliet swallowed before taking her first sip. The warmth ran along her tongue, down her throat and spread out in her body. It didn’t taste as bad as she expected.
‘Do you know why we clink glasses?’ she asked, taking another sip.
There was a bemused expression on Monty’s face as he shook his head.
‘Hundreds of years ago, to prove that you weren’t trying to poison your guest, you would pour a small amount of your guest’s wine into your glass and drink it first. If someone trusted that their host was not trying to poison them, they would clink glasses with their host to let him know that it wasn’t necessary to have him drink their wine.’
‘Does that mean I trust you, since I clinked my glass to yours?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know. Do you?’
‘I do.
’
‘I wish I could say I trusted you as well, but I don’t.’
‘What is it you don’t trust about me?’
‘You lied to me when you said you loved me and that hurt. I can’t allow myself to trust you again.’
He looked down and appeared to give her words some thought. ‘Juliet. I don’t want to lie to you. I won’t. We are different people now. Our lives aren’t what they were back then. I want to start over with you.’
They were married now. Had that changed anything for him? If she didn’t give him a chance to make things right, would she live to regret it years from now?
‘I want to believe that you will be true with me. I want to believe that more than you know, but it scares me. What if I put my trust in you and you lie to me again?’
‘That won’t happen, Juliet. I care too much for you. I always have.’
He cared for her. He didn’t love her, but that was more than Lizzy had had with Skeffington. And love could be dangerous. It had almost crushed Charlotte. Caring for someone seemed nice and safe. But she was already feeling something beyond simply caring for him.
‘I wish I could believe that,’ she said.
‘Then believe it.’
He caressed her cheek and tilted her chin. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he leaned in and brushed his lips gently against hers. Her senses reeled and her breath filled his parted lips. The soft kisses that followed had her remembering why she had thought no one’s kisses would ever compare to Monty’s.
It didn’t matter that they were stuck on an island in a tiny cottage with no way off. It didn’t matter that they didn’t know when they would be rescued. All that mattered was the man who had slid one of his hands to cup the back of her neck and was feasting on her lips as if he loved the taste of them.
She curled her fingers around the curve of his bicep to ground her from floating away. The blanket that had been keeping her warm was no longer necessary and it slipped off her shoulders. She didn’t feel self-conscious about sitting on his lap in just her chemise and stays. He was too occupied kissing her to even notice.
The heat that flared in all the places their bodies were touching made her wish that she could feel his bare skin against hers. When his fingertips trailed up her calf, it brought butterflies to her stomach. Feeling emboldened, she placed their glasses on the floor and undid the knot of his cravat while their kisses became more urgent and exploratory. His mouth tasted hot from the brandy as his tongue glided over hers. She had wanted to touch more of his skin and was rewarded when his cravat fell to the floor and she could place her hand through the opening of his soft linen shirt on to his firm male chest. It felt like nothing she had ever touched before, with its light dusting of hair and the outline of the corded muscles over his flat stomach.
He continued to run his fingertips along her leg, edging upwards. Something hard was poking her bottom and she shifted on his lap. A faint guttural groan escaped his lips through the kiss. His hand slid slowly down her neck and made its way to the curve of her breast. Pulling on the laces of her stays, he trailed kisses along her jaw and then in the hollow of her neck. She hadn’t thought much of her neck until now. But now Monty had discovered one spot that made her tingle between her legs. She wiggled against his hardness, thinking it would alleviate some of that feeling and it made her feel a bit better.
The heat from his breath scorched her neck as he let out another faint groan. His warm hand cupped her breast as he crushed his lips to hers once more. The gentle message of his hand and the taste of his kisses sent waves of desire flooding through her.
‘I want you, Juliet. I want you as a husband wants his wife. But I will not take you unless you want me as well. Do you...want me, that is?’
Her heart jumped and her pulse pounded. She did. In her head she wished she didn’t. It would be much easier to guard her heart from him if she didn’t. But every part of her was straining for a way to get closer to him. She wanted to feel his skin. She wanted to continue their kisses. And she wanted, in that moment, to be his wife in every way.
‘I want this, Monty. I want you.’
He searched her eyes, as if he was gauging the sincerity of her statement. Then he smiled as his lips met hers once more. He picked her up and laid her gently on the rug, their lips still locked together.
Her stays came off easily as did his waistcoat and shirt. She wasn’t prepared for her reaction to seeing Monty in just his breeches and boots. The firelight cast his smooth muscular torso in a warm glow that begged her to skim her fingertips along his skin, discovering him through her touch. He lay there on the rug, watching her growing fascination at the feel of him, with his hand caressing her bare arm and the other propped behind his head with his bicep bulging.
In the past when she imagined making love for the first time to her husband, she never thought it would feel this comfortable and natural. She always believed she would be nervous and feel like she wanted to hide. But Monty was not rushing her. He was giving her the time she needed to move things along at her own pace. She leaned over, and kissed his chest, right over his heart.
* * *
The feel of Juliet’s lips on his chest was making Monty so hard, he had to take a deep breath to steady his need to roll her over and thrust himself inside her. He didn’t want to frighten her with the intensity of his desire and watching her find delight in his body was making his heart pound. She was everything he ever wanted for a wife. Why had it taken him this long to realise it?
He had been searching for someone who could kiss him like Juliet. He had been trying to reassure himself that when he refused to elope with her, he was correct in believing he didn’t love her. What they had between them was just an intense passion that was heightened by the fact they were sneaking around to spend time together. He could have asked for her hand the day after they met, but they both had enjoyed the element of danger brought on by their clandestine meetings. When he was faced with the choice of eloping with her and creating a scandal, or walking away with his head held high because no one would have to know the Duke of Skeffington had rejected his suit, he convinced himself the depth of his feelings for Juliet were exaggerated due to the excitement of their secret trysts. It wasn’t until he heard she had left London that he realised there was a hole in his life when she was no longer in it.
He tried over the years to fill that hole. He tried to find someone else who could make him forget about the world with the touch of her lips—who touched something inside him that no one else had before or since. It wasn’t Juliet’s kiss that he had missed. It was her.
It felt as if they were the only two people in the world and nothing existed outside the cottage. He could deny it all he wanted, but the truth was plain to see. He loved her. And he always had.
He removed the pins from her hair as she trailed kisses along his neck and when he was through, he cupped her cheeks for a soul-searing kiss. Her chestnut hair cascaded around them and brushed against his chest. It was just as he had imagined...only with a bit more clothing.
He broke the kiss and helped her slip her arms out of her chemise. Her small firm breasts were perfect and his hands explored her soft curves. Laying her down, he lowered his mouth and sucked on one of the peaks, flicking his tongue around her nipple. Her fingers were threaded through his hair and her back was arching up from the rug. With his other hand, he trailed his fingers up her thigh until he touched her in her most intimate place and rubbed his fingers along her skin to make her wet.
‘I need you, Juliet. I need you now.’
It wasn’t a question, but she gave him a nod anyway. That was the consent he needed to remove his boots and breeches before he lowered his body over hers. The heat from the fire was nothing compared to the hot passion happening between them. When he finally thrust himself inside her, they were sharing one of those kisses that touched his soul. He went slowly at first, so she c
ould get accustomed to the feel of him. But once she wrapped her shapely legs around him, he knew he could increase the rhythm. He caged her in with his arms on either side of her and ground his hips.
The sounds of her soft moans were the most erotic thing he had ever heard and her laboured breathing was brushing against his ear. If Juliet didn’t come soon, he was going to have to start silently reciting the names of the monarchs in order to try and calm his body down until she found fulfilment.
How could he have thought there was someone else in the world that could make him feel this way? How had it taken him until now to realise it?
A lock of her hair had fallen down her forehead and along the side of her nose. He brushed it back and placed his lips against her temple. ‘I’m so glad you married me,’ he whispered.
Her loud guttural moan filled the cottage and her muscles clenched around him. He pushed himself up, resting on his palms and thrust harder...and deeper. And clenching his jaw, he came inside of her.
For the first time in his life, everything felt perfect.
Chapter Seven
The sun was hanging low in the afternoon sky when Juliet stepped out of the cottage in her newly dried boots and pelisse. She had just left Monty’s side where he was still napping on the bed that they hadn’t even considered using when they made love on the floor in front of the fire. If that was what making love to Monty was like, it was distinctly possible their relatives would not be seeing them until Twelfth Night.
His consideration in trying to make her relaxed in what could be a very frightening and awkward time for a woman had opened her heart up to him a bit more. If this continued, she knew she’d fall in love with him all over again. She wanted to trust him. What happened between them occurred years ago. His life was different now. He was a responsible man with a successful business. Certainly someone like that would be honourable. Someone like that would be a man of his word.