Chapter Eleven

Julia hadn’t known it was possible to be frightened and elated at the same time as she kissed Gregory without any concern. No one would enter this room, or tell them to stop, or shriek that she had ruined herself. This man with his titles, estates, and wicked suggestions was entirely hers.

For one night.

Julia flushed as she felt his hands on her body. Her eyes fluttered shut as he laid her down upon the bed. A soft moan escaped her when the duke lifted her frock, revealing her legs all the way to the tops of her stockings.

“Sheer bloody perfection,” he rasped. Gregory began to untie her stockings, and Julia propped herself on her elbows and watched in a lustful haze as he unrolled them. Her husband’s lips caressed the soft skin of her inner thigh. Julia shuddered as she felt his stubbled cheek, the heated rush of his breath as he parted her legs. As he—

“Wait.” Her whole body tensed.

“Hmm?” The duke stopped at once, though he appeared almost unsteady as he pulled back from her. Gregory’s dark hair was mussed and curled over one eye in a devilish manner.

“Are you all right?” she asked. Julia pushed down her skirts.

“Yes.” He blinked. “Though you may have to give me a moment. A gentleman has only enough blood to operate his mind or his manhood at any given time.”

“Yes.” She bit her lip as Gregory stood, the evidence of his…manhood…on prominent, straining display against the front of his breeches.

“Did I hurt you?” He looked concerned.

“No.”

“Are you afraid?”

She hadn’t expected him to sound quite so concerned. Based on Gregory’s reputation, Julia had expected a sinfully passionate wedding night, but not a gentle one. She’d thought she wanted passion. Hell, she did want passion. But she also wanted—

“Dinner.”

“Excuse me?”

“I find I’m hungry after all.” That was a lie. The thought of food made her ill, but now that the moment was here Julia had begun to panic. It was stupid, really, but she felt seventeen all over again. She could still picture herself standing out under the open sky, gazing at the horizon for hours. Waiting for her fairytale prince to come riding to fetch her. Waiting for her life to begin.

He’d left her standing there, the rain pouring down upon her head. One man had already found it so easy to leave her behind. Now she was supposed to give all of herself to this man, her husband, but she knew he’d leave tomorrow morning and not return. The thought of it made Julia feel too raw and bruised.

She just needed a few more glasses of wine, and then she’d be ready.

“Of course.” Gregory rang for the servants and had them bring supper up to the room. Julia made certain to stand by the wall; she didn’t trust herself to be anywhere near a bed right now. “I won’t pounce, you know. I only go in for the kill when I’ve been expressly invited.”

“Shame that the animal kingdom doesn’t work the same way.”

“Yes. Imagine lions sending engraved invitations to a herd of gazelle, asking them to formally agree to be eaten. If only nature modeled itself off the English upper classes.”

“Then the natural world would be insufferable,” Julia said. They both grinned at that, but she still felt the strain between them. It had nothing to do with attraction. The way her new husband prowled back and forth before the fire put her in mind of those lions he’d mentioned. Wasn’t that the way of men and women? The man devoured, and the woman yielded.

What a bloody stupid system.

Her heart pounded as the servants entered to set up a table and chairs before the hearth. Julia glanced out the window as they brought up silver trays of food and crystal decanters of wine. She noticed that dark clouds had blocked out the rising moon and swallowed the stars. The whole world right now was illuminated by fire and candlelight.

When the servants bowed and exited, Gregory motioned for her to take a seat.

“I’m afraid it’s a light meal,” he said. “Cream of turtle soup, braised lamb shank, and a fifty-year-old Bordeaux.”

“It’s a wonder you haven’t starved by now.” Julia allowed him to hold her chair. She seated herself, and placed a napkin in her lap while her husband sat across from her. He poured wine, but didn’t take anything to eat. “You’re not hungry?”

“I’m ravenous.” His roving glance told Julia the sort of delicacy he wanted to savor. A line of heat went straight down, making her body full and heavy. She had never felt so desired before. No man had ever looked as if he wanted to flip over the table and have her on the carpet if she gave even the slightest hint she wanted it. Julia shivered, feeling the power charge in the air like a lightning strike between them.

Maybe it was the power that scared her. Or the fear of losing control of it.

“Maybe we should talk,” she said. Julia took a spoonful of soup as something to do. God, but it was delicious.

“Well, let’s see. Being English, we can discuss the weather and cricket. Being upper class, we can discuss money and how very much we secretly hate everyone that we know. That gives us four exciting topics from which to choose.”

“I suppose I could start by saying thank you.”

Julia’s heart palpitated a bit. Laying herself bare before another had never been easy, but she was going to do that tonight. For some reason, the idea of lying naked in this man’s arms didn’t scare her as much as the thought that she wouldn’t be able to hide anything from him. He’d see her every feeling, and in that way he’d have power over her. If there was anything that scared her more than the thought of being powerless, Julia didn’t know it.

“For the food? My staff took care of it.” But the duke’s attempt at humor badly disguised his embarrassment.

“If it hadn’t been for you, my life would have been very different.”

She was surprised when Gregory’s face appeared to darken at the words. He watched the fire with an almost sullen expression.

“I hope it won’t be worse than what you left behind.”

“You’ve met Constance. You know not much could be worse.” Julia toyed with her soup. “I suppose I’m not very good at this.”

“That makes two of us,” he growled. The duke drank his wine while Julia felt a small, hot ember of anger ignite in her belly.

“You don’t have to look so disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” Gregory scoffed. “You’ll have to expand your vocabulary, my dear. This,” he said, gesturing to the inhuman perfection of his face, “is irritation. Not disappointment.”

“I don’t know what rankles more.” She tossed her spoon aside and crossed her arms. “Your condescension or your irritation.”

“I’m told condescension is my most attractive quality.” But Gregory stood up and went to the window, speaking to his reflection rather than her. “Forgive me. I’m sure this is anything but the wedding night you dreamed of as a girl.”

Yes, and no. If anything, Julia could never have envisioned a husband as handsome, as wealthy, or as frustrating as this one. Nor could she have imagined being as fascinated by him. Gregory was surly, straightforward, charming, and infuriating all at once. Most men couldn’t be anything other than bland. Blandness was not this man’s problem.

“Tell me about yourself,” Julia said. She held up a hand. “And no pithy remarks. No quips. No evasions. I’d like to know you a little more intimately before we become, well, intimate.”

“What a novel idea.”

But he approached her, pulled his chair over to the other side of the table so that they were quite close. The hair on her nape prickled; Julia had never been so aware of anyone’s presence before. Wherever he moved, her eyes instinctively drew to him. The duke toasted her. She clinked glasses.

“What would Her Grace care to know?”

There was so much about him that remained a mystery.

“How old were you when you inherited the Ashworth estate?”

“Seventeen. Both my parents died in a boating accident.”

“I’m sorry.” She put a hand over her heart. “That must have been dreadful. To be alone so young, that is.”

“Honestly, I feel like I became less alone after they were gone.”

He said it in that infamous way of his, with a smirk and a shrug. But Julia couldn’t believe that anyone truly felt that way.

“Are you serious?” she asked.

“One thing you should have learned by this point, my dear. I am never serious.”

Julia swallowed the rest of her wine and poured another glass. The duke watched her with puzzled admiration.

“I see this is truly a marriage between equals,” he murmured as she downed a second helping.

“Do you know what this feels like?” Julia wiped her lips with a napkin. “It’s as if we were two Spartan soldiers armed with only our shields. No spears or swords, nothing that can be used as an attack. We keep circling each other, putting our whole energy into defense when in truth we’re perfectly safe because the other would never dream of making a move.”

Gregory nodded slowly. “I suppose I take your point. Though I must say, it’s unusual for a lady to nurture an interest in the military habits of ancient Greece.”

“The Spartans encouraged their own women in the study of combat,” Julia replied.

“Well, now I see why they would fascinate you.”

“Bother all that. Do you comprehend what I’m saying?”

“You want us to stop protecting ourselves and be open. Yes. Either that, or you’d like me to lower my defenses so you can stick a blade in.”

“Either suits me,” Julia drawled, pleased when Gregory laughed. It was rare to find a man who enjoyed a droll woman. For the sake of protecting her heart, Julia wished Gregory was nothing more than a shallow, womanizing rake, yet something about him continued to clash with that image. Because a man who was that awful and insipid wouldn’t appear delighted by her wit, nor would he look at her with such piercing concern.

Concern for Julia and her welfare.

She startled when a low growl trembled the windowpanes. Thunder boomed outside, and the steady patter of spring rain began on the roof.

“My.” Julia was at a loss for anything to say other than, “It’s raining.”

…

Gregory could feel his pulse in his throat and at the very tips of his fingers. The candlelight caressed Julia’s face, turning her radiant. His gaze slid to her legs, concealed once again by that thin sheath of blue silk. The sensation of her against his hands and lips, the way she had quivered on the precipice of ecstasy, had almost undone him. Even watching her take a spoonful of soup was like quiet torture. The sight of her tongue, the way cream glistened upon her lips, they were enough to drive a man insane.

Just watching her throat move as she drank was enough to get him half hard. He gripped his knee, trying to keep control of himself. Maybe in his own way he was as frightened as she was. Gregory wanted to lose himself inside of her, but what if she saw how undone he was by her mere presence? Wouldn’t he love to lower his defenses and show her all of himself? Take down that Spartan shield, bare his breast for her dagger? If she wanted to carve out his heart, he’d be only too delighted to give it. But the idea of such intimacy made him want to be sick. Gregory could not take another major rejection. He’d ordered the entirety of his bloody life around shielding himself from such an upsetting possibility.

But his thoughts and fears faded into the background as he gazed upon her bosom. It rose and fell with her breathing, and he wanted to feel the swell of her breasts as they filled his hands.

“Gregory?” She sounded like she’d said his name a few times already.

“Yes. Raining. I’ll see if they can make it stop,” he muttered.

Julia laughed. The sound was as tinkling and gentle as the rain itself, and sent a rushed shiver of delight up his spine.

“Let’s talk about you,” he said. His new bride watched him over the rim of her glass. He felt her assessing him, a predator suddenly reduced to being prey. He liked that. “You must have gotten along with your father.”

Her expression cleared. God, her face was so lovely when she smiled.

“I did. He was the dearest person in the world to me. At least I had Susannah when he passed away.”

“How old were you?” Bloody hell, what morbid conversation for a wedding night. But Gregory didn’t think he could seduce this woman the way he had so many other ladies over the years. He couldn’t simply pour sweet nothings into her ear.

He found he cared, wretched as that made him.

“Fourteen. And soon after, Constance locked me away in Pennington Hall.”

“I’m awfully glad that you managed to slip her lead that night at the Weatherford ball.”

Was it his imagination, or did she blush at his words?

“Oh. Yes. Because now you’re safe from the rest of the ton.”

“Also because it’s led me to this moment.” Gregory took her hand. Her lips parted in evident excitement, but he could still feel the tension in her body. He kissed her palm, never taking his gaze from hers. “I can’t recall the last time I found myself this enraptured by any woman.”

And he meant it, too. So when Julia pulled away from him and got up to stand before the fire, it felt like plummeting from a great height. All the way from heaven, in fact.

“It’s kind of you to flatter me, but you don’t need to lay it on quite so thick.”

Ah, there it was yet again. Normally he adored the tartness of her tongue, but now he felt downright surly.

“I’m not the lying type. If I were, my life would be a great deal easier.”

“Yes, and you wouldn’t have had to marry a perfect stranger.”

Gregory rose, feeling at a loss for words before this suddenly implacable goddess. He reminded himself that this had to be nerves. She’d waited for so long to be married, to be with a man, and this was no ordinary wedding night.

He prowled toward her, standing before the fire’s blaze. A log snapped in the grate. Julia’s eyes widened as he wrapped an arm around her waist. She placed her hands upon his chest, but didn’t shove him away. Her breath hitched as Gregory leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“If I had to wed a stranger, I couldn’t have dreamed of one more perfect than you.”

She moaned as he kissed her throat. She tasted sensational as his lips crept up her neck, as he nibbled upon the delicate lobe of her ear.

“Ah. Gregory,” she whispered.

“Julia.”

Enough. He had to do this, or he might explode. His new wife clung to him as he lifted her into his arms. He kissed her greedily as he carried her to the bed, as he laid her down and then lowered himself upon her. Their kissing grew heated, and she nipped and sighed as he lifted her skirts again and ran his hands along her silken legs. By now, he was painfully hard.

Her hands fumbled at his buttons, and he helped her. He undid his shirt fast, ripped it from his body. Gregory did feel a moment of smug satisfaction to hear his new lady moan at the sight of his physique. Though he wanted nothing more than to rip the clothes from her body and have her, he allowed her to trace her palms along the contours of his torso. He leaned over her as Julia explored him, her fingertips trailing across the light dusting of hair upon his chest. Her pupils were dilated, and she seemed to be in a trance.

“Is Her Grace pleased?” He smiled.

“Oh yes.”

He fell back upon her, claiming her mouth as he hitched her skirts higher, as her legs wrapped around his waist on instinct. Lightning flooded the room in blinding white as he slid one strap of her gown from her shoulder. Gregory bared his teeth in animal anticipation as he freed her breast from the constraint of silk. Her naked breast was in his hand, the nipple pink as a rose. He leaned down and traced the tip of his tongue around and around it, feeling it harden beneath his attentions while Julia writhed and groaned in anticipation.

Thunder broke over the house, so loud that his bride screamed out of fear rather than desire. Gregory looked up at the ceiling, shocked to hear the rain begin to pound. Damn, the bloody house might shake apart in this storm.

But right now, he didn’t care. The lady beneath him was too delectable. The damn room could have been on fire, and he wouldn’t have been able to focus on anything except her. He returned his attention to her breast, and to peeling the last scraps of clothing from her body. Already, he salivated to think of the sweetness that lay between her legs, waiting for his expert exploration.

Gregory passed his hand up the slope of her thigh, to the tender curls that protected her sex. He moaned in ecstasy as he cupped her, as he began to part her with his finger.

“Wait!” Julia cried. “Stop.”

He stopped, though he feared he’d combust.

“Are you all right?” he rasped.

This time, the thunder pealed so loud over the house that Gregory himself almost rolled off the damn bed. Torrents of rain began to ripple against the windows.

And Julia appeared caught somewhere between ecstasy and fear. Though he doubted she was afraid of the storm.

After all, he could dress this up with honeyed words all that he wanted, but it was still a bargain between them. An exchange of favors. This was more of a contractual obligation than a romance, and no amount of passion could pass it off as anything else.

As more lightning streaked across the sky, Gregory sat up.

“I don’t think I’ll be traveling tomorrow,” he said.

“Probably not.” Julia frowned as the wind howled outside. “Thank God we didn’t have an outdoor reception.”

He laughed despite himself. “I doubt I’ll quit London until next week. So. There’ll be time.”

Julia understood his meaning and appeared so relieved that he got off the bed and collected his shirt without another word. Gregory dressed himself again, wincing at the pain of his rather engorged manhood. It wouldn’t take much work to release himself as soon as he was back in his room.

What a wedding night. A storm outside, utterly quiet within.

“Perhaps tomorrow,” Julia said.

“Yes. Tomorrow.”

Gregory found himself back in his room, with himself in his hand. It took barely two strokes and a thought of her before he finished. As the storm raged outside, he realized that beneath the frustration, he felt simple relief.

Selfish as it was, this way he didn’t have to say goodbye to her so soon.