DeButy & the Beast (2 page)

Mrs. Sedley faced him bravely, tilting her head to look him in the eye. "Marry my granddaughter," she said succinctly. "Turn her into a young woman worthy of her station by her twenty-first birthday, and you shall have your own ship from the Sedley line, a worthy crew, supplies, and whatever funds you need to get your studies underway."

Julian's heart thudded. He was not so sure he would be able to hide his excitement. "When is her twenty-first birthday?"

"September 15. You will have just over four months to complete the task."

From what he had heard, four months would not be nearly enough time to tame the beast. Still, the rewards were high. "And what does Anya think of this plan?"

Mrs. Sedley's lips thinned. "She knows only that I have set about finding her a husband."

"And what does she think of that?"

The old woman's eyes flitted away nervously. "She seems quite willing to take that step."

"Why will another, more dedicated tutor not do as well as a husband?"

Mrs. Sedley sighed. "Anya responds better to men than to women, I have found. The companions we hired almost always left here in tears. And for her training to be effective, her tutor needs to be here twenty-four hours a day. There can be no rest, no respite from this task." She laid her eyes on Julian. "And I need no more scandal. If you live under this roof, you must marry her."

"I see your reasoning," he began, "but marriage seems a bit extreme."

"Anya's portion of the Sedley fortune will be hers when she turns twenty-one." Mrs. Sedley's voice was all business, now. "She will be prey for every fortune hunter on the east coast, and she is so impulsive I fear... I fear she will choose the wrong man, if she's given the opportunity to choose for herself. Even when you are away on your travels, you will be her husband, and so you will protect her from the vultures."

"I see."

"Julian," she said, her voice changing to a more maternal tone. "I have made up my mind. What Anya needs is a husband. I called upon you for this task for many reasons. I admired your grandfather greatly, and you are a man of high moral character, as he was. I read your latest pamphlet on the degenerating moral character of our nation, and I must say, it played a great role in my decision."

Julian looked humbly to the floor. "I appreciate your confidence." And yet...

"That said," Mrs. Sedley continued, "I feel I must tell you everything."

Good heavens, there was
more
.

"I mentioned that Anya was called a goddess."

"Yes," Julian said suspiciously.

Mrs. Sedley set about wringing her hands again. "Apparently she was a... ummm…" She lowered her voice to a whisper. "A love goddess."

"A love goddess."

"And I told you she was treated like a queen?" Mrs. Sedley continued.

Julian's heart dropped. "Yes."

"Well, actually she was the king's paramour, his... his concubine."

The same heart that had dropped a moment earlier rose into his throat. "I see. This would be the English pirate, Terrence Whetherly?"

"His son, Sebastian."

The offspring of the pirate and an island woman, no doubt.

"Naturally, we don't want the world to know of these transgressions, but I did think you should have all the pertinent details."

"Very kind of you to be so honest."

"Anya tells me she cannot have children, but since this will be an arranged marriage, and you will be leaving in a few months time, I don't see how that detail would affect your decision."

Julian tried to decline, but the "no" caught in his throat. Was he actually considering this preposterous proposition? A love goddess? The mistress of a self-proclaimed king? Four months of his life to see his dream come true.

"Perhaps you should meet Anya before we go any further."

Mrs. Sedley turned slowly, took two steps, and lifted a silver bell from the end table by a burgundy velvet padded chair. Almost immediately, the butler appeared.

"Show Miss Anya in, Peter."

With a barely disguised sigh, the servant nodded and briskly left to do as he'd been instructed.

"I should warn you," Mrs. Sedley said in a lowered voice. "We have tried to reform her, but Anya continues with her unconventional ways. Some I am learning to accept. Others are more difficult to withstand. You should be prepared."

"For what?"

"For anything." She sighed.

Julian heard the butler's clipped step and harried voice moving closer to the parlor where he and Mrs. Sedley waited. "But Miss Anya..."

"Silence," a crisp, feminine voice ordered. "I have asked you not to speak to me unless you are bearing a message of some importance. Your opinion is of
no
importance."

"But Miss Anya..."

"I should have my grandmother whip you for your insolence. Did I not tell you to be silent?"

Julian turned to face the doorway as the voices came nearer. Peter was not deterred by Anya's threat. "But your grandmother gave specific instructions..."

The butler stopped speaking when Anya reached the open doorway and stopped there, laying her eyes on Julian in a bold, almost fearless way. She had long, unbound red hair that fell well past her waist. Lush lips that would never be proper, no matter what training she received. Wide eyes blue... no, green... perhaps both... that latched on to his as she stepped into the room.

She wore an array of jewels. Dangling pearls at her earlobes barely peeked out from her wealth of red hair. Around her neck she wore several necklaces. More pearls, a ruby pendant, an onyx teardrop, and a worked gold piece of delicate leaves. Her wrists, both of them, were similarly adorned, as was one ankle.

And she was naked, but for a brightly colored scarf that had been strategically placed around her waist, knotted there, and left to hang so that it covered the apex of her thighs and half of one shapely limb. Her unbound hair covered her breasts to some degree, but an abundance of bare flesh was most shockingly revealed.

"Anya!" Mrs. Sedley whispered hoarsely. "What did I tell you...."

"I am not naked," Anya said as she placed herself before Julian and lifted her eyes to his face.

"You promised you would wear shoes this afternoon," Mrs. Sedley continued, reprimand in her voice.

Anya was not affected by the rebuke. "They pinch my toes." She began to circle around Julian, her movements like that of a cat, slow and graceful and... deadly. Her eyes raked up and down his body. Julian remained still, not circling to follow her, but allowing her to study him as she wished.

Peter, the harried butler, sighed once again and made his escape.

"You were right, Grandmother," Anya said softly. "He is a beauty."

"I never said—" Mrs. Sedley began.

"Julian the beauty," Anya interrupted. "That is what you called him."

"No, no," the older woman said patiently. "Julian DeButy. Dr. Julian DeButy. That is his name, the way your name is Anya Sedley. DeButy sounds similar to 'the beauty,' I suppose."

Anya completed her circle and stood before him once more. Julian fixed his eyes on the ruby at her throat. To look at anything more would be improper. To study her body the way she studied his would be beneath him. He should pay no attention to the way her very red hair fell across the swell of her bare breasts. He definitely should not allow his eyes to dwell on those lush lips, or the sprinkling of freckles across her nose, or, dear God, the valley between her breasts and her bare midriff, with skin so smooth and flawless it surely felt like silk.

His eyes should most certainly not drop to the portion of exposed hip, shapely thigh, the length of that one completely exposed limb that almost brushed against his trousers. No, he stared at the ruby at her throat and thought of... of ships. Long, wooden ships that sailed across the seas, tossed by the tremendous waves so that it pitched up and down, up and down, in a rhythm deep and certain. He could feel it even now, roiling in the pit of his stomach as the ship carried him—Oh, this was not helping at all. So he thought of... of last night's meal.

That was a safe enough topic for his beleaguered brain, surely. He'd dined with his aunt before taking the train to Wilmington. She'd served a succulent roast hen that had been quite tasty. The way it had lain on his tongue, tender and luscious, had been quite lovely. Just thinking about it made his mouth water. Yes, there was nothing so satisfying as a well-prepared meal: chicken and potatoes and greens, followed by delicious caramel cake. Oh, that cake had been marvelous. Sticky and sweet and decadent. Sinful, surely, it was so rich and just the memory made his stomach tighten and his heart skip a beat. Smooth and silky and warm...

Good heavens, what had this woman done to him?

Neither ships nor food calmed him, so he thought of the money Anya's grandmother offered, the opportunity to circle the world and write books about his travels. To discover tribes that still lived as their people had lived hundreds of years ago, each with their own society. Their own rules and mores.

It did not matter that Anya had been a queen and a goddess, or that she could not have children. The only dignified reason for a man and woman to lie together was to conceive a child. The civilized man was above his baser instincts, though at times those instincts were easier to ignore than at others.

Julian usually had no problem ignoring his own animal instincts. He rigorously avoided temptation, keeping to his books and avoiding situations that might prove... uneasy. This situation was most definitely uneasy. Any man who was confronted with a naked woman might feel aroused.

He turned his mind to business. Since Anya could not conceive, and he would not stay long at Rose Hill, there was no need for their marriage to include the marital embrace. They would have separate beds. Separate
rooms
. He would be a mentor, a teacher. Not a lover.

"You wish to marry me?" Anya asked, her words clipped and precise, with just a hint of a foreign accent. Not Spanish, not French, but something exotic and... no,
not
arousing.

He was being ridiculous. This was just a woman, no different from any other. He would give her four months of his life, he would train her, mold her into the lady she should be. Those tutors who had come before had simply not been strict enough.

"Yes," he said crisply. "I do believe we'd make a suitable couple."

"You have not asked me if I wish to marry you," she said, a hint of censure in her voice. "My grandmother tells me I must have a husband, and to be honest I am tired of sleeping in a large bed all alone."

Julian's eyebrows went up, just slightly. Before they were wed he would have to make things clear to her. He would make her understand that they would not share a bed, and that she should not count on him to stay indefinitely. He could surely explain to her the benefits of a marriage of convenience.

"But why should I choose you?"

"Anya, dear," Mrs. Sedley said, "I have told you all about Julian. He is a fine, upstanding physician, he comes from a wonderful old Southern family, and he has all the qualities any woman might want in a husband."

"Does he?" Without warning, Anya reached out and laid her hand on his crotch. He tried to back away, but she grabbed onto the fabric and what lay beneath and would not let go. Her grandmother, standing at his back, could surely not see this indignity. Just as well, as it was a truly mortifying moment.

In spite of Julian's resolve to think of other things, he twitched and grew in her hand. Anya responded with a wicked smile.

"He will do," she said softly.

* * *

Satisfied, Anya let her hand fall away. "When is the wedding?"

"There are a few things we need to discuss before we go any further," her intended said. He was so very stiff... in more ways than one.

But he was also very beautiful. He could easily have been called Julian the Beauty, and no one would question the fitting name. His hair was thick and dark brown, and worn longer than Cousin Seymour wore his. The strands curled over his ears and down the back of his neck. He was slender, but not thin, standing tall and straight and nicely built in his form-fitting black suit and white shirt.

His face was truly beautiful. Eyes so dark a brown they were almost black; a nose so straight and finely shaped it was a wonder; a mouth firm and wide, but not too wide. Already she detected a hint of an afternoon stubble on his chin. His skin was a little pale, perhaps, but not a sickly pale like that of her boring, insipid cousins, Seymour and Valerie. Yes, if she must take a husband, Julian DeButy would most definitely do.

"What do we need to discuss?"

He glanced over his shoulder to look at her grandmother. "I don't believe in starting something as important as a marriage with falsehoods. Mrs. Sedley, would you leave us for a moment?"

Anya smiled. He wanted to be alone with her. Oh, she was so very ready to take a husband. Someone who would hold her close and listen to her. Someone to share this new life with. She was tired of being lonely, and she had never been as lonely as she had been since coming to Rose Hill.

Grandmother left the room, but it was quite clear that she didn't want to go. She kept turning her head, pausing in her usually steady step. Anya gave the woman a fleeting, reassuring smile as she left the room.

Anya turned slowly. "I will close the door." She did not get far before her intended stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"That won't be necessary."

She spun around and glanced up at Julian. "You do not wish for privacy? I thought you wanted to make sure I would please you before we married." Why else would he ask Grandmother to leave? Anya reached out to touch him once again. This time he was faster than she. He jumped back quickly.

"No." He ran a nervous hand through his hair, ruffling the dark strands. "Please sit down." He indicated a chair, which she dutifully took, sitting, pulling her feet off the floor and crossing her legs so that her knees brushed against the padded arms. The jewels on her ankle jingled prettily, catching the light from the afternoon sun that streamed through the window behind her.