by L. R. Olson
But the moment I reached the trail, I picked up my skirts and I fled. I ran through the woods, slipping and stumbling along the muddy path. I ran by the creek where James had been bathing only days ago. I raced through the field where he and I had walked, until my slippers were covered in muck. I ran until I made it to the orchard. My orchard.
Gasping for air, I paused in the middle of the orchard while a cold drizzle fell around me. It wasn’t the same. This was my place, but he had ruined it with his kiss. I didn’t want to think about him, yet I couldn’t stop myself. Everywhere I went, all of my best places, were spoiled by the memory of James. Tears pooled in my eyes, blurring my vision. I crouched and grabbed a fallen stick. Holding it like a sword, I swung it wide.
“Blast it!” I hit the tree with the branch as the tears streamed down my face, mixing with the rain. I’d pretended that I welcomed being a spinster. I’d told myself I would be content. I’d lied. “Damn you!”
“Please, whatever the tree has done, surely it does not deserve such abuse.”
I spun around at the sound of the familiar voice. He’d returned. How dare he. How dare he visit the place where I found peace. My special orchard.
He stepped into the clearing, wearing dark brown trousers that hugged his muscled thighs and a white, linen shirt with a waistcoat, yet no jacket. The sleeves were rolled up his sinewy forearms as if he’d been working. He was no lazy man to sit around and smoke cigars.
He irritated me like no other. He was arrogant when he had no right to be. He thought of women as nothing more than property to use when the mood struck. Yet…yet my heart leapt into my throat when I saw him. My pulse pounded. My body came to life. I realized in that moment that the roar of blood through my veins had nothing to do with anger or nerves and everything to do with the fact that I was thrilled he was near. I wanted to see him. Desired him like I had never desired any man before. While my rational mind told me he was a bad idea, my body didn’t care.
I should have left. I should have slapped him. Instead, I merely stood there, breasts heaving, the stick dangling from my fingertips. Desperately I tried to school my features, attempting to look as cold and distant as he.
James strolled into the clearing casually, his dark hair damp and curled at the ends from the rain. There was no eagerness in his steps. My mind might have been consumed by thoughts of the man, but he didn’t desire to see me as I did him. “Why are you crying?”
He did not ask because he felt compassion or sympathy, only curiosity. He was cruel. Cold. Unfeeling. I swiped angrily at my damp cheeks. “Do not concern yourself.” I started toward the trail. “I was just leaving.”
He reached out, latching onto my arm. “Tell me.”
Startled, I spun around, taking the stick with me. The momentum swung the weapon wide. It hit his head with a whack that vibrated against his thick skull.
“Damnation!” he cried out, releasing his hold and stumbling back.
Horrified, I dropped the stick and surged toward him. “I’m so sorry!”
He held up his hands, warning me away as if I had the very plague. “No! You’ve done enough. Good God, woman, you are a complete menace to not only yourself, but society in general.”
He was hurt and angry, I tried not to let his words bother me. “I didn’t mean to harm you.” But he didn’t look as if he believed me. “It’s the truth!”
Glaring at me, he pressed his fingers to his forehead. I grimaced, noting the red welt. “Hell.”
I bit my lower lip, feeling guilty and validated all at the same time. I wanted to help him, but part of me wanted to laugh as well. “I’m usually not this clumsy, I swear it.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” He started toward the trail, only to swerve. “Shite.”
My amusement faded. I raced to his side and wrapped my arm around his waist. Just what I needed…to add murderer to my list of offenses. “Come, I’ll help you home.”
I swore he growled. “I don’t think I need your sort of help.”
It was hard to concentrate when his musky scent swirled around me. “Don’t be rude.”
“Rude?” His breath was a burst of air that warmed the top of my head. His body was heated, a furnace that pressed against mine, making it hard to concentrate. I wanted to cuddle closer to his heat, to burrow into his warmth. “Truly? Are you really lecturing me?”
I frowned as I helped him along the path that led next to the field. I realized, as that unfamiliar shiver raced down my spine, that being this close to him wasn’t very intelligent. His body was all hard muscle under my hands. His scent intoxicating. He could kiss me again before I’d know better. “I’m helping, you could be thankful.”
“Are you serious? You practically killed me!”
“Killed?” I sighed, daring to glance up at him. Just as I’d thought, he was glaring down at me. I couldn’t look away. Those eyes were fascinating, so very dark that it was hard to see the pupils. Demon’s eyes. “Isn’t that a bit dramatic?”
“No, dramatic is beating a tree with a stick.”
I blushed and tore my gaze from his. I would not be baited by his bullying ways. We’d made it halfway there. My hair hung in wet clumps around my face, making it hard to see. “You should be able to make it the rest of the way.”
“Why?” He said the words as a command, as if he fully expected me to respond. “Why were you crying? You at least owe me an explanation.”
I owed him nothing. “Are you asking because you care or merely because you’re curious?”
He laughed. “Care? No. Curious, I suppose.
As I’d thought, but at least he was honest. I wondered briefly if the man cared about anyone but himself. How could a farmer who lived in a dilapidated estate be so arrogant? I took in a deep breath. “I’m going to be a spinster.”
“Is that all?”
My anger flared. How was it that I found myself with this man once more, enduring his abuse? Apparently God had a wretched sense of humor. “Perhaps you don’t understand, being a male and all…”
“Glad you noticed.”
Oh, I’d noticed all right. I noticed the muscles of his back as my palm pressed so intimately to him. I noticed the warmth of his skin even through his damp clothing. I noticed the way the man practically branded me with his very essence.
I attempted to steady my nerves as we made it to his front garden. “But as a woman it is our duty to marry.”
His arm wrapped around my shoulders, as he leaned farther into my side. Yes, I noticed every bit of him, from the feel of his fingers gripping my hip, to the brush of his thigh against my side. “Duty? That sounds lovely.”
“What? Should marriage be romance and love?” I scoffed. “Is that what you’re saying?”
He shrugged. “Don’t women think so?”
“Perhaps.” I fell silent for a moment, lost in thought. What did most women want? What did I want? “Yes, of course. We do. And we want a family, but mostly a home of our own. As women we are beholden to our parents. As a married adult—”
“You are beholden to your husband.”
“Yes,” I frowned. “You would think so. In fact, you probably believe men own women like property.”
We paused at the bottom of the front stoop. The rain had stopped. He jerked away, facing me. “Don’t presume to know me, Jules. Believe me, I think women could take over the world if they wanted, they are that devious.”
I shook my head, confused. “Devious?”
He started up his stoop and tore open the front door. The thatched home wasn’t as bad as I’d first presumed. He must have been working on the place.
“Show me an honest woman who is not out to manipulate,” he paused at the door, “and I’ll show you St. Nicholas himself.”
Anger spurred me forward. I followed him up to the front stoop. “And show me a man who is not out to take advantage of a woman in order to gratify his…his…”
He turned to face me. We stood in the doorway, he inside his hom
e, I on the outside. “His what?”
When he quirked a dark brow I realized he was laughing at me, I could see the amusement in his gaze. Blast him, anyway!
“Pride! His male pride!”
“Yes, men do have big…pride.” He looked away, but not before I saw the quick quirk of his lips. I almost smiled in kind. What was it about this man? One moment I wanted to slap him, the next laugh with him. He drove me utterly mad.
“Then marry,” he said, bracing his hands on either side the door frame. “Surely you can find some pathetic sod whom you can lead around by your pretty finger.”
I actually flushed when he called me pretty. Lord, I was acting the virginal debutante. Things were once more getting out of control. I took a step back. “I should leave.”
He frowned. “I feel quite dizzy, and you did promise to help me home.”
“You are home.” I watched him warily. When he bowed his head as if in pain, I relented. “Fine. I will escort you inside the parlor. You do have a parlor?”
“Yes.” He swerved on his feet.
I rushed forward and wrapped my arm around his waist. “Blast,” I muttered, my guilt flaring. We shuffled into the foyer, than moved to the left. I’d been here years ago, before Lord Welch had inherited the place. James had cleaned the rooms, white-washed the walls even. In the air was the scent of lemons and wax. I’d never known a man to care so much about cleanliness and order.
James leaned heavily into my side. “So, it’s your dream to marry?”
I was surprised to see the parlor furnished with two chairs flanking the fireplace and a settee. Part of his home, anyway, was livable. “No, it’s my dream to have a painting hang in the house of some lofty lord who can afford whatever he wants, but is so impressed with my work that he will pay whatever it takes to own my painting.”
He watched me curiously as I helped him toward one of the chairs near the hearth but he didn’t sit, just continued to loom over me. “I see.”
“But…yes. I’d like to marry, I suppose.” I pulled my arm away, but he didn’t release his hold on my hip. “I’d like to have children. Children who will explore the countryside with me. Children I can teach to paint.”
He sighed. “Lord, as if we need more girls like you.”
I stiffened in outrage. “Most people enjoy my company very well, thank you! And if you don’t you can walk home—”
“I am home, you ninny, and this is why women can’t be trusted, because they can’t control their emotions.”
I shoved him away. “Why, you…”
Suddenly his lips were on me. As we stood in his parlor, dripping rainwater onto the floorboards, he cupped the sides of my face and molded his mouth to mine. Startled, I merely stood there letting him kiss me. His firm hold gentled, his hands falling from my face, to slide down my arms and grip my hips. He pulled me up into his body, never breaking the kiss.
This is what I’d dreamt about. What had kept me up for the last two nights. A dream come true, I was lost. With a groan, I tilted my head, deepening the kiss. He took full advantage and slid his tongue against my lips. Startled, I gasped. Would I ever get used to the feeling? I’d heard of men and women kissing with their tongues, but never had I experienced the sensation before James.
When his tongue slid into my mouth all warm velvet and need, I didn’t push him away, but gripped the front of his shirt to keep from collapsing to the ground in a puddle of desire. I wanted to arch into him, to melt into his body.
He tasted of ale, of him. His velvet tongue dueled with mine, rubbing erotically so that I lost control of time, of the very world around me. With a whimper, I rose on my toes, and molded my body to his, the hard bulk of his bulge pressing into my skirts.
He pulled back first this time. I had to swallow my whimper of protest. I was acutely aware of my heavy breasts and aching body. Breathless, we merely stood there, staring at each other. It took a moment for me to understand what had happened. Blimey, I’d let him kiss me. A moment longer for me to realize I still clung to his shirt.
“God, you’re annoying,” he muttered.
“Tis a good thing your opinion means nothing to me.” I was too shocked by the kiss to take true offense. Yet, I couldn’t help but ask, “If you don’t like me, why do you continue to kiss me?”
“I never said I didn’t like you, my pet.” He reached out and tucked a loose lock of hair behind my ear, his fingertips lingering at my cheek. “I like you very, very much. Too much.”
He liked me? The words sent a thrilling shiver down my body. I stepped back, confused. My heart beat with a ferocity that I didn’t recognize. I wasn’t sure I enjoyed feeling so unlike myself. “I need to go.”
With my fingers pressed to my tingling lips I raced from the parlor and toward the front stoop. If we’d been caught, my family would never survive another scandal. I would be forced to marry him. I could never marry a man so…so arrogant. So very selfish. So very…
“Jules,” he said.
I swallowed hard as I paused on the front stoop. “Yes?”
He was close behind me. I could feel his heat, smell his scent, sense his very being. So close that if I merely stepped back, we would be touching. “I will take advantage of you if given the chance.”
That ache between my thighs flared. Honest. He’d always only been honest, yet I fell into his trap every bloody time. I hungered for this man like I’d never hungered for anyone. “Perhaps I won’t let you.”
His hands trailed down my back, a gentle touch of his fingers. I had to resist the urge to close my eyes and sigh. The entire world seemed off balance. I felt lightheaded, strange. “It’s a game,” he said. “You made the first move when you spied on me at the creek.” He leaned close, his chest to my back, his lips near my ear. “And I always, always win. Know that as a warning. Do not return to my home unless you are prepared to give me your all.”
I didn’t bother to respond, but picked up my skirts and ran. I ran down the steps so fast I nearly tripped. I ran across the field until I could barely breathe. Ran until I found the safety of the woods where he couldn’t see me. Only then did I slow. He had warned me.
So why, I wondered, was I more thrilled with the idea of seeing him again, than terrified as I should have been?
Chapter 4
James
I sipped my whiskey, listening with half an ear as Lord Welch spoke of fields and crops. I’d offered to meet with the man out of mere consideration. He had been friends with my father. Now I wished I’d declined. I had been thinking of buying his cottage and estate, but decided against it. I no longer desired to stay in the area. The land was shite for growing crops. At least that’s what I told myself, and it was true. But the real reason was that Jules was much too much of a temptation. Word would get out and society would uncover the truth of our affair eventually. The gossip would ruin my plans. I’d worked too bloody hard to let a scandal destroy me now.
“So you see…it’s a great piece of land.”
Welch was the only one in town who knew my true name, my title. I didn’t need the locals scraping and bowing when I walked by. But my time had run out.
“Indeed.” I nodded toward the barkeep for the tab. Although I’d told him I was no longer interested, the man had debts that needed to be paid. He reeked of desperation. I should have felt sorry for him, I didn’t. He liked to drink. His wife liked to spend. His son was a known gambler. A useless piece of property would be just his ticket out.
He shifted in his chair. “I understand you’ve decided against the purchase, but—”
“Do you know of a woman named Jules, Welch?”
Hell, I hadn’t meant to ask, but the words had slipped from my lips before I’d been able to stop myself. A quick look of shock crossed his ruddy face, a flash of recognition. But it was gone before I could be sure. He frowned, appearing confused. But I didn’t miss the flush to his jowls. “Don’t believe so. Surname?”
“I don’t know, but she’s from the are
a,” I admitted. Had I imagined his look of surprise? What a strange reaction, but then I never had trusted the man. His son was even more of an arse. Handsome, titled, but stupid. I could only pray, for the good of the country, their line would die out swiftly.
“Can’t say I do, but I don’t spend a lot of time in the area. No, I much prefer the city where people are educated, civilized.” He released a harsh laugh, but the mirth didn’t quite reach his blood-shot eyes. “Why the interest?”
“No reason.” I narrowed my gaze. Why did I feel as if he lied? Hell, had he slept with her? Was she known around the area as the town whore? The sudden stab of jealousy was like nothing I’d felt before. I frowned. I didn’t share my women. When they were with me, they were mine completely. Until I tired of them. The thought of Welch’s pudgy hands on her body left me cold and irate.
“So, what say you?” he asked, shifting like a child at dinner time. “Do you wish to purchase the land?”
He was trying to change the subject. I didn’t give a shite about his worthless land. My hands curled on the table top. I suddenly found myself wanting to slam my fist into his face and demand he tell me how he knew Jules. I couldn’t. To ask would be to draw attention to our relationship. “I’ll think upon it.”
What the hell was wrong with me? I’d never lost control of my feelings. Within the last week I’d lied, I’d pretended to be injured when she’d hit me on the head just to be close to her, and here I was ready to go to war with a peer merely over a woman.
“Good, good, but don’t want to wait too long. Have other offers.”
He didn’t want me to wait too long because the man was in dire need of funds. He was exactly why I stayed away from London society. Too much inbreeding. Besides if I needed to know anything about the ton, my sociable brother Rafe would tell me.