A Dangerous Temptation

by L. R. Olson

  “You don’t have a choice!”

  My anger flared and I jerked out of his grasp. “We always have a choice!”

  “We are legally married, Jules. Do not forget that.” I felt only a prickle of warning before he jerked me close. I fell into his warm, hard body.

  “Bastard!” I slammed my fists against his chest, the hits muffled by his jacket. “Let me go!”

  Before I could respond, his lips found mine suddenly, desperately.

  It was a branding kiss. A kiss that said he owned me. I struggled against his hold, attempting to deny the feelings that surged within the moment his mouth touched mine. With a growl, his hold tightened. Suddenly, I found myself pushed up against a tree as his mouth plundered mine.

  It felt right. So bloody right.

  With a groan I could no longer deny, I slid my arms around his neck and pressed up into him. It was just as I’d remembered, but more. So much more. Jamie gripped my bottom, holding me tight to his hips. His erection surged against my lower belly, demanding attention. Crushed between the tree and the man, there was no escape. One kiss and I was drunk with passion. With need. Desire. It was a primal desperation, built from months of wanting, waiting.

  I parted my lips and rubbed my tongue against his. I couldn’t get enough. It felt as if it had been years since we’d touched, and I’d been slowly starving for this man. I clung to his broad shoulders, letting my desire take control. We were made for each other.

  His hands slid beneath my cloak, the warmth of his touch piercing my dress and stinging my ribcage. Slowly, his hands traveled up my body until they were cupping the weight of my breasts. My nipples hardened, my breasts grew heavy.

  I gasped into his mouth.

  The startled sound seemed to wake him. He tore his lips from mine. So close, our harsh breaths mingled. I realized, with some shame, that I hadn’t pushed him away, but had urged him on. He had been the one to end our kiss, and I would have happily lifted my skirts there in the woods if he’d demanded it. It terrified me how much power he held over me. Perhaps it had always scared me.

  “Damn you, James!” I shoved my hands against his chest and stumbled back. My body cried out, wanting more from him, while my rational mind refused. “You can’t do this to me again! You can’t burst into my life, force me to be with you—”

  “Fine.” He stepped back, his face all hard planes under the light of the campfire. “Don’t worry, Jules. I won’t force you. But I swear when I’m done, you’ll come willingly.”

  I didn’t bother to respond, but clutched my skirts in my hands, and raced back toward the cottage, fearing he was right.

  Chapter 4

  James

  A year ago an inconsequential housekeeper wouldn’t have even caught my attention. But as I stepped from the only shop in the village where I’d been ordering supplies for what would apparently be an extended stay, and caught sight of Mrs. Willow scurrying down the lane, my interest was immediately piqued.

  “Mrs. Willow,” I called out in greeting.

  She paused for the briefest moment, blinking wide, startled eyes. “Oh, Mr. Corbin. Lovely to see you. I do apologize, but I’m rather in a hurry.”

  Not her usual cheerful welcome. I fell into step beside her. I didn’t miss the fact that she wore dark circles under her eyes and her bonnet sat askew upon her head. “What is it? May I be of assistance?”

  Still fuming and frustrated from our talk in the woods, I’d left Jules to herself for the last few days. She wasn’t the only one who needed time. I needed a few moments myself to untangle the confusing emotions ensnarling my usually calm life. She’d done this to me, the witch, completely upended all of my plans. But if she thought I would give in, return home, she could think again.

  “The doctor,” she said, darting down a narrow, cobbled lane, her black cloak flapping around her like a blackbird’s wings. The town boasted all of three streets along the sea. In the distance the shouts of fishmongers calling out their wares occasionally interrupted the cry of gulls. But as the weather had turned wet and cold, most were burrowed within their warm cottages. “I’m going to get the doctor.”

  “Is someone ill?”

  She seemed rather frazzled. Although there was a chill bite to the air, her cloak hung unbuttoned, as if she’d been in a hurry. “Yes. Very ill.”

  My bemusement fled as anxiety whispered through my veins. I’d noticed Julianna’s cottage aglow late last night, but had assumed she’d been unable to sleep because of my presence. Apparently not. God, I was an arrogant bastard. “Who? Who is ill?”

  She sighed and paused at the end of the street. “The baby.”

  My blood went cold. “Millie?”

  She nodded as she scurried across the lane. I followed, my heart slamming erratically against my chest. “What’s wrong with her?”

  We reached a small cottage with a withered winter garden. Although the air was cold I barely noticed. “Poor dear has had a fever all night.” She hurried up the stone path and knocked on the door. “We’ve tried everything.”

  The urge to grab the woman and shake answers from her overwhelmed me. “And Julianna?”

  “She’s well enough, although like any loving mother she is worried. Hasn’t slept in two days. What with the influenza going around…”

  My panic flared. “What do you mean?”

  Before she could respond, the door opened. A short woman with a cloud of dark hair and a pale, pinched face stood on the threshold, looking anything but happy to see us. “Mrs. Willow, what can we do for you?”

  “I’m looking for Doctor Waverly.”

  “Well, it will be a while. He’s busy now. Dear man hasn’t slept in days. Might as well come back later.” She started to close the door. “He’s with Jacob at the moment.”

  “Jacob?” Mrs. Willow cried out, shoving her hand against the door. “But he died yesterday!”

  “Still needs preparing,” the woman grumbled, attempting to close the door again. “Wouldn’t be respectful to leave his family now.”

  My outrage spurred me on. I shoved my foot over the threshold so the door bounced wide. “If he’s dead, I hardly see why he needs a doctor.” I pushed my way into the cottage. Mrs. Waverly’s gasp of shock did not dissuade me. “Where is he?”

  It was a large room that served as parlor and kitchen. But a door to the left told me all I needed to know. Without permission, I started toward the room. The door opened before I had a chance to knock.

  He was a short, thin man with dark hair and wire-rimmed glasses perched upon the end of his narrow nose. “What is the commotion? I have a family in mourning…”

  His voice trailed off as he caught sight of me.

  “You,” I snapped. “Are needed now.”

  Doctor Waverly frowned, then looked to his wife as if expecting answers. She merely shrugged. “Very well, let me finish with Jacob.”

  “Jacob’s dead. He’s more than finished.” I grabbed a jacket on a hook near the door and tossed it toward the man. While the good doctor was chatting with a dead man’s family, my daughter was suffering. “I said you’re needed.”

  Mrs. Willow stood there watching wide-eyed, while Mrs. Waverly wore a flush of anger and shock upon her round face. Did they not understand the direness of the situation? Dear God, babies succumbed to their illnesses all the time. It was as common as rats in St. Giles.

  Flustered, Dr. Waverly practically foamed at the mouth. “Listen to me, sir, you need—”

  “No, you listen to me.” I grabbed the man by his jacket and pulled him forward, lowering my voice so the others wouldn’t hear. “I am the Earl of Whitfield and you will come with me immediately or pay the consequences. Do you understand?”

  “Earl?” His eyes went wide. I could see the confusion within those depths. He wasn’t sure if he dared believe me. “I…I should give a proper farewell to Jacob’s family…”

  I glanced toward the room behind him, only to spot two older men seated around a corpse upon a b
ed. They watched me with eyes as wide as Mrs. Willow’s.

  “Now,” I snapped. “We leave now.”

  He had just enough time to grab his bag of supplies before I tugged the man from the cottage and out into the biting wind. “Sir, there is a proper order of things, which I—”

  “My child is ill and you’re going to fix her.”

  I could hear Mrs. Willow apologizing to the doctor’s wife while we moved back up the lane, following the coast, leaving her behind.

  “Sir…my lord…a doctor can’t fix everyone. It’s in the hands of God.”

  “If it’s in the hands of the lord, what the hell is the point of you?” Shite, Millie couldn’t be ill. I’d just held her a few days ago. She was too young to be sick, wasn’t she? She’d barely been alive long enough to be ill. “You will make my child better.”

  “Your child?” The good doctor struggled to keep up. “Sir, who is your child?”

  I ignored the curious interest of those we passed. Ignored the curtains being pushed aside as the many at home watched us rush by. Having been here less than a fortnight, I was still an oddity. “My daughter is Millie. My wife is Julianna—”

  “Of course.” His confusion cleared. “The young widow.”

  My annoyance morphed into outrage. Had she told everyone I’d died? “Not a widow, obviously, if I’m walking beside you.” We trudged out of town and up the hill toward her cottage. “But you will keep this information to yourself, do you understand?”

  He nodded, but still looked confused. Not that I could blame him. “What ills the child?”

  “A fever,” I said, feeling like an idiot for not knowing more. Why hadn’t Julianna sent for me? Damn her, I could have helped. I clung to my anger, for it was my motivation. The only thing that kept me going.

  “Unfortunately common,” he said, as we moved passed my cottage. “The death rate for children is…”

  I glared down at him in disbelief. Was he actually implying Millie might die? “That won’t happen to Millie. She’s strong.”

  “Of course,” he murmured, but I could tell he wanted to argue. What did he know? A man who relied on God, instead of his own talents?

  We made it to Julianna’s stoop just when I was about to slam my fist into the idiot’s face.

  The door tore open and Julianna stood there looking terrified and exhausted, and so completely beautiful. “What are you doing here?”

  I latched onto the doctor’s collar and swept passed her, leading the man inside. We didn’t have time to explain. Millie lay in a basket upon the settee, her face flushed red, her hair sweaty against her head. She whimpered and it felt as if my heart exploded, shattering into a million tiny pieces. I would have slit my wrists then and there if it would have helped her. My sweet rosy baby was suddenly frail.

  “Fix her,” I snapped, glaring at the doctor who stood hovering in the foyer with Jules. Jules who looked so lost, so desperate that I ached for her. Just like that, our troubles no longer mattered at the moment. We were bonded by our desperation. “Or so help me.”

  The doctor rushed forward and set his bag upon a side table. “Unfortunately, my son,” he rested his hand on Millie’s forehead. “It doesn’t work that way.”

  “I’m not your damn son, I’m an earl,” I growled. “And it works any way I demand.”

  ****

  Julianna

  I awoke to the softly murmured voice of someone speaking. For a moment I sat there confused, unsure where I was, attempting to gather my wits. I tried to sit up, to unfold my legs, but the uncomfortable position had given me a crick in my neck and I cringed.

  “You will be well, won’t you?” Jamie murmured.

  The words whispered through my mind, slowly bringing me back into the present. I opened my eyes, taking in the roaring fire in the hearth. I’d fallen asleep in the parlor chair.

  Millie.

  Millie was ill.

  Startled, I bolted upright. But Millie was wriggling around in her basket on the floor while Jamie sat beside her, brushing back her fuzzy hair. Millie with rosy cheeks once more, her wide innocent eyes pinned to her father. Jamie, looking anything but an earl as he sat upon the carpet, his gaze focused on the baby. He wore only trousers, stockings and a linen shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.

  Everything within me softened, warmed into gooey molasses. I’d never thought I’d be relieved to see Jamie. But when he’d appeared at the door yesterday eve with the doctor at his side, demanding he fix our child, all I wanted to do was throw my arms around him, sink into his hard, strong body, and cry in relief. I wasn’t alone to worry and wonder.

  Doctor Waverly had left only after I’d told Jamie to allow him to go. There wasn’t much the man could do. It was a waiting game of sorts. Jamie and I hadn’t spoken. I’d made tea, and we’d taken turns washing Millie with a cool cloth. In the early morning, before the sun had risen, I’d curled up into the chair intending to rest my aching legs. But at some point my body had given up and I’d fallen asleep.

  “How is she?” I asked, my voice husky with exhaustion and the stress of the situation. “Is she well?”

  He looked up at me, a smile upon his face. I’d never seen him so happy. It did odd things to my body…made my heart beat a little faster, my stomach clench with a desire I couldn’t deny. “Fever has broken.”

  “Oh thank God.” I collapsed to the carpet beside her. My entire body went weak with relief. For the last two nights I’d sat by her side, attempting to cool her heated flesh, praying, begging that she would survive. How could I go on without her? “Millie, my sweet.”

  I pressed my hand to her forehead. Perfectly cool. She gurgled. A sound of contentment. I laughed, tears burning my eyes. For the first time in a long, long while I felt alive with hope. This was how the world should be…always.

  “See, she’s well,” Jamie said softly. Seated next to me, his breath was warm upon the side of my face. A heady temptation that reminded me how close his mouth was to mine. I was suddenly aware of his body pressed intimately to my side. We were a family…the three of us. Perhaps not a perfect family, but a family all the same.

  I turned my head and met his gaze directly. “Thank you.”

  His jaw clenched, but he said not a word. He captured me with that heated gaze. I knew he wanted me as much as I wanted him. I could not have survived this night alone. I tore my gaze from his, needing to think. Millie was well, that was all that mattered at the moment. I slid my palms underneath her little body and lifted. Her fisted hands flung back and forth excitedly.

  Grinning in relief, I cuddled her close to my chest. She was well. She had survived. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply her sweet scent. My breasts were heavy, aching, and holding her close only made them worse. She’d need to feed. But I couldn’t nurse in front of James. Not yet. Maybe never. It was too…intimate.

  “How do you do it?” he whispered.

  I opened my eyes. “What?”

  “How do you…” He stared hard at Millie, as if attempting to comprehend her. “Stand it? The terror I felt…”

  He couldn’t seem to go on. My heart softened toward the man. I understood. Shaking his head as if in disgust, he surged to his feet and moved toward the windows. His steps were agitated, angry almost. I knew what he was thinking, what he was feeling, for I’d experienced it all when she’d been born.

  “If anything had happened to her…”

  “It didn’t.”

  He turned to face me. “How do you not live your life terrified it will?”

  I took in a deep trembling breath and gave him a wobbly smile. “It might. You can’t stop illness, you can’t stop…death.” Even now it was hard to say the word. “But you can make sure she has a lovely life for however long she’s here.”

  He didn’t look as if he felt any better. The poor earl, so used to controlling all within his reach. He could force the doctor here, but he could not beat death. He knew that. And yes, he’d experienced loss of a famil
y member as I would when my father died sooner than he should. But nothing compared to the thought of losing one’s child.

  I stood, holding her close. “If there is one and only one thing that is certain in this life it’s that we will all die.” I pressed my lips to her forehead. “All we can do is make sure the ones we love know how much we care. All we can do is enjoy the life we have, however long that life might be.”

  The wind outside was fierce, batting the glass panes, but inside the cottage was warm, the fire roaring, Millie well. I needed nothing more. Everything was perfect.

  “Julianna, when I met you it was as if I’d been struck by a blow.” James started toward me. I tightened my grip on Millie, feeling suddenly lightheaded. “I couldn’t breathe, food no longer mattered, sleep didn’t seem important. I only wanted you. You.”

  His gaze was so intense, I didn’t dare look away. My veins heated, my pulse pounded a little harder. I hadn’t given my little speech on life and death so he would spill his heart. I certainly hadn’t expected him to tell me his feelings…yet here he was.

  “When you left…” He took in a deep, trembling breath. “When you left my world was destroyed. I didn’t know what to do, how to go on. Since we met at the creek, nothing in this world has mattered but you.” His gaze dropped to our daughter. “And now…Millie.”

  His words were exactly what I’d hoped to hear. Words that would have done Lord Byron proud. Yet…yet he hadn’t said he loved me. His words were heated and fierce and they were more about obsession. And if there was one thing I knew, it was that obsession was not love.

  “With you, for once, I can be myself, Jules. I do not worry about the family name. Restoring our reputation, our pride, no longer matters.”

  His words battered me like a storm off the coast, sudden and fierce. How I hungered for him. Ached for his touch. The months had not diminished my need. It was pure torture not to accept his apology and let the past go. But I’d had so little sleep in the last two days. Millie needed to be fed. “I just…I need time.”