A Dangerous Temptation

by L. R. Olson

  He closed his eyes as if he’d just been given a death blow. The old James would have demanded acceptance. I expected as much. Instead, he nodded. “Time. I’ll give you all the time you want. But I’m not giving up, Jules. Not ever.”

  He stepped closer, rested his hand on Millie’s belly, then kissed the top of her head. Slowly, he straightened, his gaze locking to mine. “Get some rest. I will return soon.”

  He turned away, leaving my knees weak, my legs quivering. The need to call out to him, to beg him to stay, overwhelmed me. Instead, I let him go. I let him pull on his boots, and take his jacket from the hook in the foyer. And I let him leave the cottage. Leave me, taking my heart once more.

  Chapter 5

  James

  Give her time.

  That’s what she had asked. And that’s what my instincts had told me to do.

  My instincts could go to hell.

  I’d been attempting to give Jules a few days, not wanting to scare her off. But at every moment I was completely aware of her cottage down the lane from mine. I was completely aware of the smoke trailing from the chimney telling me when she was awake and home. Aware of Mrs. Willow coming and going. And I certainly had been aware when the constable had visited only yesterday. It had taken every bit of my strength not to kill the man.

  I’d even invited the housekeeper into my cottage for tea one evening as she walked by. She’d cheerfully entered, taking in every detail and peppering me with questions. I’d maintained my stance of being related to Jules, without giving away anything more. She’d been relentless, no doubt wanting to take the information she gathered to town. It was winter, after all, and people were bored. But I wasn’t an earl for nothing. I knew how to hold my own and easily deflected her curiosity.

  It had been two days since I’d seen Jules. Two days and I was so desperate, I had taken to fixing the dilapidated cottage where I now resided in order to occupy my mind. Wearing only shirtsleeves, trousers and boots, I stared at the crumbling wall I’d been beating with a hammer. I didn’t know what I was doing, and had made an utter mess, but for some reason, knocking down that wall stone by stone made me feel better.

  If only Rafe were here to spar with. Punching him in the face was just what I needed. I dropped the hammer to a chair and strolled toward the window of the small parlor, taking a moment to calm my ragged breath. Although the cottage leaked cold air, the exercise heated my body. The physical work intrigued and motivated me. There was something satisfying about the dust under my fingernails, the blisters on my palms. I started to return to my work when I noticed the fine figure battling her way across the icy snow.

  Jules.

  “What the bloody hell are you doing?” I muttered.

  She slid, almost falling to her arse, but managed to gain her balance at the last minute. If she needed something in town, she should have asked me to go. I tore open the door and moved outside. The wind pierced my shirt and chilled my sweaty skin but I barely noticed. The woman was intent on doing everything on her own. It drove me absolutely mad. I wanted to be in her life. I wanted to help. I wanted…I wanted to be a family.

  Jules was struggling to walk and balance the packages. I must have missed her when she’d left for town earlier. The howl of the wind muffled my approach, giving me the advantage. Her hood covered most of her face, and her cloak her body, but I knew her. I’d always know her.

  I reached her side and grabbed the packages.

  Startled, she yelped and swung around to face me. Those beautiful eyes widened in surprise, and then narrowed in suspicion. “James?”

  “What are you doing out in this weather?” Balancing the packages in one arm, I gripped her gloved hand and led her toward my cottage. Between the icy path and my strength, she was no match. “Are you bloody mad?”

  She stumbled along beside me. “I needed supplies in town.”

  “You have no mount?”

  Her cheeks, flushed with cold, turned even brighter. “I don’t have the money.”

  I gritted my teeth, annoyed. The woman had left without the least bit of planning in her pretty head. What would she have done if she had run out of coins? Her family sure as hell couldn’t help. “Inside…now.”

  I opened the door for her and stepped aside.

  Stubborn witch that she was, I expected her to resist. I was itching for a fight, a reason to yell at her. Unfortunately, she entered, albeit reluctantly. Inside, I pushed the door shut, trapping us together in the small cottage. Silence fell.

  For a long moment I just stood there, watching the snow melt upon her lashes. She stared at the hearth. I stared at her. Two weeks. I’d been here almost two weeks with little success. My fingers curled as I resisted the urge to reach out, pull her close. To shake some sense into her.

  The nagging voice in the back of my mind demanded I take control. Force her to return to the estate, if I must. This was getting out of hand. I wasn’t used to waiting, and I sure as hell wasn’t used to retaining so little control.

  “How is Millie?” I asked.

  “Good. Much better.”

  The silence continued.

  She shifted, growing restless. “I need to get home.”

  For the baby, not that she would admit as much. She still hadn’t told me Millie was hers…was mine. It was ridiculous, insane. I’d stayed up all night with the child, I’d comforted her, kissed her. She belonged to me.

  “Alright. I’ll walk you.”

  “No.” She stiffened, finally meeting my gaze. “That’s not necessary.”

  “It is.” I moved across the room and picked up my jacket. “I insist.”

  She sighed long and loud, as if I was a bothersome gnat instead of her husband. I’d been patient with her. I’d waited for her to come to her senses. It still hadn’t happened. I slowly pulled on my jacket, prolonging the moment as I attempted to regain control of my anger. There were all sorts of things I imagined doing to her in the privacy of this cottage. Even as I was annoyed, I still wanted the woman with a fierceness that could barely be contained. Having her so close was driving me utterly mad.

  “You’re working on the cottage?” She glanced around the space, taking in the crumbling wall. She looked rather nervous and I knew what she was thinking…if I was fixing up the place, that meant I was staying a while.

  “I’m not a lazy lord, and there isn’t much else to do.”

  While I wait for you to come to your senses.

  She slid me a glance. “You can always return home.”

  “Not without you.”

  She flushed, obviously frustrated.

  “I’m not going anywhere without you, I thought I made that clear.”

  She brushed the hood back, revealing her face fully. Just as stunning as the first moment I’d seen her at the creek. “I need to go home.” She blushed. “I can’t. I…I…”

  I found her reaction more than strange. There were so many mysteries surrounding this woman and I wanted desperately to uncover them all. But hell, I’d do with revealing one. “What?”

  “I need to feed our daughter.”

  The words were like a punch to my chest. She’d admitted it. She’d admitted Millie was mine. Boldly she met my gaze. She was daring me to deny the child. To accuse her of cuckolding me. I took in a deep, trembling breath. I only felt relief. A weak-kneed relief that almost brought me down. I’d known, of course, but to hear the confirmation that Millie was mine made everything so much easier to deal with. I had to resist the urge to grin like a bloody fool.

  Disgruntled, she crossed her arms over her chest. “You knew she was yours, don’t act as if you didn’t.”

  I turned toward the fire, to hide the emotions storming across my face. Relief, happiness…pain. Confusion. Anger. “Why did you lie?”

  “I panicked.”

  I glanced over my shoulder. She looked miserable. Young, forced into marriage with a man who might be married to another, and suddenly finding herself with child. Could I blame her for running
? Any lingering anger I might have felt vanished. I wanted to pull her close and show her just how much I cared. To tell her all was forgiven. Beg her to forgive me. But were we ready?

  She stared at my neck while I stared at her beautiful face. I would have studied her for an eternity. Wished I could paint as well as she did so I might capture her innocence, her purity. I wondered what she was thinking. It seemed insane to realize I had resisted her company when we’d first been married. That I’d tried to keep that wall in place, for what reason? What goal? I stepped close to her, drawn to the woman. “Was it an easy birth?”

  She flushed again. Ladies did not discuss childbirth, and certainly not with men. Shite, I wanted to know everything about her. I didn’t want any embarrassment between us. “Easy enough.”

  Unable to help myself, I reached out and brushed a melted snowflake from her cheek. “What’s she like?”

  “Millie?” Her face lit up, the unease leaving her gaze. Millie was a safe topic; she was the most important thing bonding us together at the moment. A common interest.

  I nodded. I’d never in my life seen her look as happy as when she talked about the baby. We could have experienced the wonder of our child together, if Claudine hadn’t arrived. If my stepmother hadn’t decided to take her vileness out on me. I wanted so desperately to hate them both, to know revenge. But revenge and hatred had no place here on this lane, within these perfect cottages, so near to my child, to Jules. Besides, I knew deep down that this was all partly my fault.

  “She’s…wonderful. Perfect.”

  I closed my eyes, attempting to dampen down my frustration. “How could you, Jules?” There was no anger in the question I asked. It was mere curiosity. I needed to know why, to understand what had happened.

  She dropped her gaze to her feet. “I thought I had no choice. I thought you were married, that you had the little boy you wanted.”

  “You could have asked.” With a sigh, I paced across the small parlor. I had to turn and walk away before I said something I’d regret. “You could have asked. I would have told you the truth.”

  But would she have believed me if I had told her? That was the unspoken question lingering between us. Part of me didn’t want to know the answer.

  “The boy? Is he living at the estate now?” she asked timidly.

  “The boy isn’t mine,” I admitted. “He’s an orphan Claudine used to try and trap me, or perhaps make me look worse. Who the hell knows?”

  “But that’s terrible!”

  I released a harsh laugh. “It’s normal where Claudine is concerned.”

  Perhaps she was finally starting to understand the lengths which my stepmother and Claudine would go in order to destroy me. The fire in the hearth crackled while the wind battered the windows. She needed to return home, but I wasn’t ready to let her go. I could demand she leave for the estate. Force her to be the wife society deemed proper. I ran my hands over my face. I couldn’t. I didn’t want the prim and proper society wife. I wanted…Jules. Lovely, stubborn, independent Jules.

  “The boy…you didn’t let her take him, did you?”

  “No. He’s living at the estate.” Of course she would care about a child who wasn’t her own. “He’s oddly enough latched onto our gardener and found fascination with the plants.”

  She smiled for a moment, but it didn’t last long. “And Claudine and your stepmother are still in London.”

  It wasn’t a question, but a comment, as if she knew. She’d been keeping tabs then, or at the least her mother had been keeping her abreast of the latest. If we returned to the estate, I’d be forcing her back into the mess that had become my life. Here, in this small village, she could hide away from reality. Perhaps not forever, but for some time. And she deserved to enjoy her days with Millie. But this fantasy could not last.

  “Allow me to escort you home.”

  She hesitated.

  Could she not give me this one, simple request? “What is it, Jules?”

  “Who is Evangeline?” she blurted out.

  I didn’t move, barely breathed.

  I wasn’t sure whether to be shocked or annoyed. Where the hell had she heard that name?

  ****

  Julianna

  He seemed startled by my comment. A variety of emotions crossed his features; anger, confusion, annoyance, but the pain was what I focused on. Whomever she was, James had loved her greatly.

  “Where did you hear that name?” he asked in a mild voice. Too mild.

  I flushed, looking at the floor, anywhere but in his hard gaze. I knew I was overstepping, but couldn’t stop myself. How could I explain that I had pried? That I had searched his bedchamber those months ago? I peeked up at him through my lashes. “I read it, actually.”

  Confused, his brows drew together. James in a suit was stunning, yet in shirtsleeves, his hair tousled, he reminded me of that man I’d first met at the creek. Carefree, yet determined. I could barely think, barely focus with him near. The sinewy muscles in his arms drew my attention, those broad shoulders made my mouth dry…

  “Jules?”

  I jerked my gaze toward his face. “I might have snuck into your chamber at the estate, and I might have seen some letters.”

  He was silent for a moment. My skin felt afire with embarrassment.

  “I see.” He lifted the collar of his jacket and buttoned it tight. Then he picked up my packages, preparing to leave. “Shall we?”

  That was all? He didn’t wait for my response, but opened the door and stepped aside. A burst of chill air swept into the cottage, bringing with the sting of flurries. I trudged out into the cold. My confusion turned to irritation. It was a simple question.

  “Did you love her?” I demanded, as he fell into step beside me.

  He started down the lane toward my cottage. “I suppose I did.”

  My heart hurt. I knew it was silly to feel upset that he had loved another. But it wasn’t that he had cared for a different woman…it was the fact that he still cared. He had been searching for her even up until a year ago. Claudine was nothing compared to this Evangeline. I blamed the cold on the sudden tears that blurred my eyes. Would I forever be competing with the women from his past?

  My small cottage came into view, looking so homey and pleasant. Millie was there, the only one I needed. So why did I keep thinking of James? “Do you still love her?”

  “I do.”

  My throat grew tight. “I see.”

  We moved up the path toward the front door. In the warm months the cottage was surrounded by pink and white roses that smelled utterly divine. I’d been so heartbroken last summer, I’d never thought I’d be happy again. But I’d found a peace here. He’d disrupted that peace.

  “Jules.” James paused on the front stoop. “Evangeline was my sister.”

  I jerked my gaze toward him. “What?”

  “My sister.”

  The wind howled, the waves roared in the distance. Had I misheard him? “I don’t understand.”

  He looked out toward the ocean, his face as unreadable as always. “She was the youngest, the only daughter. We adored her. She disappeared when she was only seven.”

  “Oh dear god.” He might not have shown any emotion, always the stoic earl, but I could feel the pain, the heartache. Unable to help myself, I rested my hand upon his sleeve. “How?”

  He looked down first at my hand, as if surprised that I was touching him, and then met my gaze again. “Because we sent her away.”

  I pulled my hand free. “What do you mean?”

  “Michael, my stepbrother, was an evil man. There were rumors that he beat a woman, forced himself upon her.”

  I swallowed hard, and wrapped my arms around myself. My body felt suddenly chill, and not because of the weather. Michael, the young boy that I had seen in the portrait I’d found months ago. He’d looked as innocent as the rest of them. But with a mother like the dowager, I supposed I shouldn’t have been surprised that he had turned out as evil as she.
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  “The woman died.” He glanced toward the cottage windows. Mrs. Willow was pacing with Millie in her arms, singing to her as she did so often. The picture they made was so very innocent, I wanted to keep my child sheltered here forever.

  “He denied it, of course. But there were more and more rumors. Then, he started paying special attention to Evangeline. Tickling her. Wanting her to sit on his lap. He was eighteen, she was only seven. I tried to tell my father, but he didn’t believe me. I even tried talking my father into sending Evangeline to an aunt’s home. He wouldn’t. He didn’t care. Didn’t care about any of us.”

  I felt ill. All these years he’d been searching for his sister. A sister he’d tried desperately to protect. “What happened to her?”

  He took in a deep breath, as if to steel his nerves. “Oliver took her. We actually didn’t know his plans until it was too late. He left a note on my bed, explaining all. Said he would see her safe. As the youngest lad, he spent the most time with her. He saw the truth before any of us. And even as a child, he knew there was something wrong with Michael.”

  “But he couldn’t have been much older than her.”

  “He was still a child.”

  He glanced at the window again, watching Millie. I couldn’t imagine what he thought. First, not being able to protect his sister, and now not being there for Millie when she’d been born. My guilt flared.

  “He took Evangeline to London. Found a home for her with our old nursemaid. He thought he was saving her. And for a couple years, from what we heard, she was happy. We never told my father. Burned the note Oliver left for me. My father thought gypsies had stolen her and we let him believe the lie.”

  So much pain in their short lives. I wanted to ask more, but the sound of a horse caught us off guard. The constable was headed our way. I resisted the urge to curse. We’d been having our first meaningful conversation since our marriage. I liked the constable, I did. He was a kind and attractive man, but he was not for me and never would be. He was wasting his time.