Lord Sinister (Secrets & Scandals Book 3) (13 page)

She suppressed a smile.  “I suppose so.”

“There you two are.”

The muscles in her stomach tightened at the sound of Julian’s voice, but she refused to turn.  She had no wish to look at him at the moment.  The lousy, no-good, rotten…

“Lord Julian.” Alex hurried up to him.

“I see you’ve found the telescope,” Julian said, laughter in his voice.

“Yes, sir.” Alex sounded so delighted, it lessened much of the anger knotting her stomach.  How could she be mad at someone who made her son so happy?

With a deep breath, Amelia was ready to put aside her animosity and try and get along with Julian.  Perhaps he had no idea Lady Bridgewater would be there waiting for him.  Trying to form a smile, Amelia turned just as her son spoke.

“My lord?” Alex squinted up to Julian. “What do you have all over your lips?”

Amelia stumbled to a halt.  Seeing the coral paint just before Julian raised his hand to his mouth, she turned back to the telescope.  Julian had actually kissed that strumpet!  While pondering the idea of Julian having a lover, that the woman was beautiful, and lived close by, Amelia grew even more uneasy.  She hadn’t even considered that to be a possibility in this…this bargain she had made.  As if chilled, she crossed her arms over her chest.

Of course he would have a lover.  Probably dozens of them.  She bowed her head.  It didn’t take her long to realize what she felt.  Hurt.  How pathetic.  She’d made a vow, for goodness sake.  A vow to never love Julian nor allow him to hurt her again.

Yet, the hurt she felt sharply in her middle was real.  Real enough to make the backs of her eyes stung.

No, no, no!  She would not cry!  Not over this.  Amelia took a deep breath and lifted her head.  It took every ounce of strength she could summon to keep the tears away. 

Alex’s laughter behind her caught her attention.  She glanced over her shoulder and watched her son a moment.  His radiant smile lit up the whole room.  Then she gazed unwillingly to the man beside him with a heartbreakingly identical smile.  Something strange pierced her heart, something she wasn’t ready to identify, for it scared her to death.  She turned away.

How in God’s name would she ever survive this?  How was she going to live the rest of her life in Julian’s house, but never able to reside in his heart?

CHAPTER 12

“My lady?”

Amelia turned from her inspection of the flower garden.  After the observatory, Julian had taken her and Alex on a tour of the rest of the house, then the gardens.  She chose to remain in the flower garden while Julian took Alex to the river nearby.  Time alone helped her think.

“My lady?”

She blinked, coming out of inner thought.  “Yes?”

The woman, perhaps five to seven years older than Amelia, wearing a gray dress and white apron, curtsied.  “I am Ruth Pennymaker.  Ruth, if you please, my lady.”  She straightened and clasped her hands together.

Amelia recalled meeting all the servants just before the tour of the mansion began.  She smiled, grateful the maid repeated her name.  It would take a while before she remembered them all.  “Yes, Ruth, what can I do for you?”

“His lordship has asked me to be your lady’s maid, if it pleases you, my lady.”

The woman’s warm, brown eyes and genteel demeanor were more than Amelia could hope for.  “Yes, that would please me very much, Ruth.”

The maid’s face lit with pleasure.  “Thank you, my lady.”  She curtsied.  “If you will excuse me, I shall see that your things are unpacked straight away.”

Amelia was not used to being waited on.  She shook her head.  “Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

Ruth’s face fell.  “But those are part of my duties, my lady.”

It had been years since she’d had any servants.  Amelia wondered if she would get used to it once again.  “You’re right, of course.  Go ahead and unpack my belongings, then.”

After Ruth had walked away, Amelia turned back to the garden.  Watching water cascade down the center of the white marble fountain before her, she couldn’t help but think of Julian.  Again.  A pain bloomed full in her chest.  She fought the sensation until it dulled, and she shook her head in hopelessness.  Would she be forever doomed to a life of unhappiness?

A memory surfaced.  Amelia staggered to the bench facing the fountain and sat.  The happy little girl with chestnut curls grinned as she took a wrapped box with a large red bow.  The child opened the package, gasping in delight when she saw the tiny porcelain tea set.  Her mama kissed her forehead and handed her another present.  Instead of opening it, the child threw herself in her mother’s arms and told her how much she loved her.

Being loved had been the best present of all.

The piercing cry of a hawk above brought Amelia out of her childhood memories.  She mopped her tears away with a handkerchief.  How hollow she felt of a sudden.  Empty.  For she realized that never again would she feel such happiness.

Her life stretched out before her like a barren wasteland.  Julian would soon be off with his various lovers.  Alex would go off to school.  She would be alone.

But all of this was for her son, she reminded herself.

Amelia swallowed the last of her tears and squared her shoulders.  Her son’s happiness was far more important than her own.  She must never forget that.

Oh, but how would she deal with Julian’s infidelity?  Knowing every evening she spent alone, he’d be in the arms of some beautiful woman like Lady Bridgewater?

Why did it matter so much to her?

No, she would not answer that.

With a sigh, Amelia focused back on the fountain.  The sound of gurgling water soothed her.  The tightness within her began to unwind.  Filling her lungs with the sweetness of honeysuckle and jasmine, she relaxed.

“Amelia?”

All her hard-won serenity shattered as Julian’s voice sounded behind her.  She swiveled her head around, her body tense like a bow string.

He drew his brows at her reaction.  “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

She turned back to the fountain.  “I was deep in my thoughts and didn’t hear you approach.”

“Sorry.”  His footsteps crunched on the stone path.  He sat down beside her, settling in much too close for her comfort.  Egypt would be too close for her comfort.

Amelia cleared her throat.  “Where’s Alex?”  She continued to watch the water sluice down the rounded marble rim.  Looking at Julian would be far too dangerous.  If she looked at him, she would want to touch him.

“He’s in the kitchen delighting Mrs. Busby with how many strawberry tarts he can eat.”  From the corner of her eye, she watched him stretch his long, muscular legs out before him, crossing them at the ankles.

She jerked her eyes back to the fountain.

“I hope he doesn’t ruin his dinner,” Julian said.

“He won’t.”  She squinted her eyes to focus on the gray veins in the white marble, trying to be unaffected by Julian’s presence.  Just ignore—

“Amelia?”

The way he said her name, soft and sensual, made her swallow.  “Hmmm?”  She knotted her hands together in her lap, trying to count the number of cracks in the top tier of the fountain.

“People usually look at each other when carrying on a conversation.”

“Do they?”  Twenty-nine, thirty…

“Yes.”

Thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty—his hand covered hers, sending a jolt of shock through her body.  She jumped and turned, fusing her gaze with amused, dove-gray eyes, framed with thick, black lashes.

A wicked smile spread across his lips.  “That’s better.”

No it was not.  Especially since he smelled so good, looked more handsome than the devil, and sat much closer than he ought.

“Don’t look so scared,” he said, scooting even closer, “I’m not going to bite.”  His eyes twinkled mischievously, his grin broadening.  “Yet.”

His gaze dropped down to her mouth and she knew he was going to kiss her.  “No,” she whispered when he started to lean forward.

“Yes,” he whispered back, pulling her into his arms.

The heat of his body melted her defenses.  She would be lost.  In just two more seconds.  “No, don’t, Julian.”  Her voice came out a ragged, desperate plea.

He halted just as his lips started to graze hers.  “What is it, Pixie?”

The feathery caress of his breath sent shivers down her spine and a longing so deep, it speared her very soul.  “Please, don’t do this.”  Her words were hardly audible, pushed through a constricted throat.

His brows snapped together.  “You don’t want me to kiss you?”

She swallowed.  “No.”

The confusion on his face deepened.  “Why not?”

God, she could hardly think straight like this.  Finding the strength somewhere deep down, she pulled away and stood.  He hesitated for an instant, but allowed her to rise.  She started to pace, piecing together her thoughts.  “This marriage is in name only…” she halted when a shadow fell over her.  Hesitantly, she looked up, confirming her fears.  Julian stood over her, glowering, all right.

A muscle ticked in his jaw while he crossed his arms.  “That was not something we agreed upon, madam.”

Amelia resisted the urge to spin around and run away.  “W-We are agreeing upon it now.”

“No, we are not.”

She backed up a step.  “You would force me, then?”

He started to say something, halted, then shook his head.  His hands fell to his sides and he looked away.  His jaw tightened and a muscle ticked in his cheek.  Amelia shuffled back another step, readying to gather her skirts and run.

With a gusty sigh, he faced her again.  His anger had diminished, though she grew even more worried than before.  Determination now burned bright in those stormy eyes.  “I’ll not have to force you, madam.” A slow, wicked grin came to his lips. “Because soon enough, you’ll beg me for it.”

Amelia watched him stride past her, shoulders set, mind made up.  She groped for the bench, feeling a bit light-headed. 

Dear God in heaven, what had she done now?

Julian slammed the door to his study, the bang echoing through the room, and marched directly to the liquor cart.  Good, the whiskey decanter was nearly full.  He grabbed it up along with a glass and stormed to his desk.  He plopped down on the leather chair.

“If she wants a challenge,” he poured the pungent liquid into the glass, “then a challenge she shall have.”  He gulped down the drink and poured another.

His third brought a warm numbness, the feeling most welcome.  With a sigh, he propped his feet up on the desk and sipped the next drink slowly.  That blasted little pixie.  Gazing up at him with that innocent stare had filled him with more lust than all of the lewdest looks he’d ever received.  Combined.  Something about her pureness, her vulnerability drove him to distraction.  He snorted and shook his head.  It made him want to see her wreathing in release beneath him.

Julian leaned back farther in his chair, recalling his parting words to her in the garden.  Something caught his eye and he turned to the fireplace.  A smile broke free.  He lifted his glass and saluted the crossed rapiers.  “
En garde
, my darling wife.” He chuckled before bringing the drink to his lips and downing the contents.

CHAPTER 13

“What’s the matter?  Couldn’t sleep?”

Amelia cut the yawn short and lowered her hand.  Laughing dove-gray eyes greeted her above the newspaper he’d been reading.  Cursed man.  She hadn’t slept a wink and the fault had been entirely Julian’s.  The whole night, she watched the door that separated their rooms, waiting for him to come ravish her.  She would have been able to rest a little if the door had held some sort of lock.  It didn’t.  Just a simple turn of the knob and he would have been in her room.

A shiver skidded down her spine.

“Mama?  Are you ill?”

Amelia turned to her son, her cheeks tingling.  “I am fine, Alex, really.  I just had a difficult time falling to sleep.”  She refused to glance back in Julian’s direction, not at all wishing to see the knowing look in his eyes.  Or the slow, devilish smile surely spreading across his lips.

Alex nodded and dove back into his buttered eggs.  “This place is so big.  It’ll take some time to get used to.”  He swallowed and turned to Julian.  “Sir, may I ask you something?”

“Certainly.”  Julian folded his paper and set it aside, the remnants of his wide smile still playing about the corners of his mouth.  “You may ask me anything.”

“Those men in the blue coats that served us dinner last night…”

“They’re footmen.”

Alex wrinkled his nose.  “Footmen?”

“That’s right.”

“Ah,” Alex’s expression cleared, “because they’re on their feet a lot.”

Amelia’s lips twitched as she ate a small bite of her kippers.

“You could say that,” Julian said with a chuckle, then sipped his coffee.

“Why did they serve us last night and not this morning?” Alex glanced at the side board heaped with eggs, kippers, ham, tarts, and other delectable goodies.  “And why are we eating in a different room?”

“We serve ourselves here in the morning and the footmen serve us dinner in the dining room in the evening.”  Julian shrugged.  “That’s just the way it has always been.”

After the meal, Julian rose and walked toward her.  Amelia swallowed, trying hard to keep her heart from beating so fast.  He halted behind her, and she could feel the warmth of his body against her back.  Like a caress.  Sensual and soothing at once.  She shivered.  Holding her breath, she watched his hand slide down the side of her chair and gently pull it from the table.  Then he was at her side to assist her up.

She just sat there and stared at his waiting palm.  He had such elegant hands with long, tapered fingers.  The thin, white scar across the fleshy muscle below his thumb and all the callouses showed him not to be an aristocratic sloth.  No, indeed.  This hand revealed a man of hard work, and Amelia thought back to the ship and how he commanded it.  Yet, that didn’t fit her memory of Julian. 

He moved closer.  Amelia knew touching him would be a huge mistake.  Yet, as if in a trance, she watched her arm raise, her hand slide into his.  The heat of his skin shocked her.  The bolt ran down her wrist, past her elbow, then exploded somewhere in the middle of her body.  He helped her to her feet but didn’t let go.

Did the knocking sound come from her knees or her heart?

The muskiness of Julian’s unique male scent enveloped her, drugging her.  She couldn’t move or speak.  He wrapped his free arm around her, pulling her even closer.  Her skin tingled with sensitivity.  She felt every square inch that was tightly pressed against him.  Breathing became difficult of a sudden.

“Amelia,” he whispered.

Of their own accord, her eyes raised to his.  Julian’s gaze held her spellbound.  She couldn’t look away.  She couldn’t move.  With raw hunger, he stared at her for several seconds, then lowered his head and grazed her lips with a whisper-soft kiss.

Then he let her go.

Amelia blinked several times.  Disoriented, she glanced around the empty morning room.  Her lips tingled and she raised her fingers up to them.

Where on earth would she ever get the strength to resist that man?

Numbly, she left the room, trying to focus her scattered thoughts.  It quite shamed her how much more she wanted than that chaste kiss.  How she wanted one of those hot, deep, wet, shameless kisses.  How she wanted even more…  With a sad shake to her head, Amelia ambled down a long hall.  After several turns, however, she found herself entering the kitchen.  Curses.  She thought she had gone in the right direction.

Amelia opened her mouth to say something to the three women setting at the long wooden table who had yet to notice her, but halted when one of them spoke.

“It’s badly infected and the leg will no doubt have to be removed to save her.”

“Poor Mr. Jennings,” another said, shaking her head.  “Loves his wife, he does.”

Curious, Amelia stepped farther into the kitchen.  The three servants glanced up, then scurried to their feet, eyes wide and pink-faced.

“My lady,” one said and they all curtsied.

“What is this about Jennings’ wife?”

The plump cook, Mrs. Busby, came forward.  “Mrs. Jennings cut her leg last week.  It’s festered, making her terribly ill.”  The woman’s large brown eyes turned sad.  “Looks like it will have to come off, your ladyship.”

Amelia frowned.  Amputations were the very last resort.  “Has a physician looked at the wound?”

Mrs. Busby shook her head.  “Dr. Downing died last winter.  There isn’t another for,” she looked up at the ceiling, mentally counting, “twenty miles, at least.”

“Where is Mrs. Jennings?”

“In her room on the third floor, my lady.”

“Thank you.”  Amelia started to turn away then halted.  “Would you mind showing me?”  That would save a lot of time, she decided.

Amelia entered the room a few minutes later and had Mrs. Busby light more candles.  She moved to the bed, saw Mrs. Jennings’ pasty countenance, the sweat accumulating around her brow, and touched the woman’s scorching skin at her wrist for a pulse.  Very weak.  Not good.  She had better work fast.

With a deep breath, she threw back the covers, making Mrs. Busby gasp.  The bottom of the poor woman’s leg, three times the size it should be, radiated a horrific stench of putrefied flesh.  Amelia closed her eyes, momentarily steeling herself before lifting the gown a few inches to reveal the injury.

A jagged five inch cut on the outside of the calf had crusted over and turned a nasty green-gray color.  She found what she’d hoped not to find.  Several red streaks had climbed up the limb from the wound.  Those streaks carried poison that would be the woman’s demise unless Amelia did something.  Now.

Thankfully, Mrs. Jennings had slipped into unconsciousness.  It would certainly make the procedure easier for them both.

After barking out orders for hot water and clean rags, Amelia reached for her black bag that one of the maids had retrieved from her room.  She removed the necessary supplies.

The door opened.  “What do you think you’re doing?”

Amelia swiveled around and found Julian striding toward her.  “I am helping this poor woman.”

His scowl deepened.  “A physician should be doing this, not you.”

“There isn’t one around,” she said, turning to the bottles she had lined up on the nearby table.

“I’ll send for one.”

She grabbed the larger brown bottle and pulled the cork.  “There isn’t time.”

“Amelia.”  He stomped to her side.  “You are a marchioness now and—”

“I am a healer first.”  She tipped her head back, wanting him to see her seriousness.  “And this woman is about to die, Julian.  I cannot allow that to happen.  Not when I can save her.”

He studied her for several seconds, then glanced to Mrs. Jennings’s leg.  His eyes widened when they fell on the infected wound.  “Good God.”

She poured a generous amount of the solution over the area.  “Perhaps you should leave.”

He remained silent for several seconds, then she heard him shuffle closer.  “No,” his voice was tight, “I think I’ll stay.”

“All right, but it won’t be a pleasant thing to watch.”

Amelia worked for over an hour.  First, she administered a special mixture, coaxing enough of the brew down the woman’s throat to help bring down the fever.  Then she cleansed the leg.  Sending up a quick prayer, she removed her surgical knife and opened the wound to drain the poison.  The rotten skin had to be removed, followed by another thorough cleansing before she could stitch the healthier skin together and apply a healing salve.

By the time Amelia bandaged the injury, Mrs. Jennings’s fever had nearly gone.  The red blotches covering the woman’s cheeks had even nearly vanished.  Good signs.

With a sigh, Amelia rose from her chair to stretch her legs.  And came face-to-face with Julian.  She almost shrieked, having forgotten him in the room.  “Oh, you scared me.”

“Sorry.”  He glanced down.  “Mrs. Jennings looks much better.”

“Yes.  I believe she’ll make it.”

There was a sound at the door, then it swung open.  Jennings entered, trying not to look worried.

Julian placed his hand on the man’s shoulder.  “She’ll be just fine, old man, you’ll see.”

Amelia handed the butler two bottles.  “The small brown one is for pain,” she said.  “The larger one is to keep her fever down.”  Then she handed him a scrap of paper.  “I’ve written instructions on how to administer them here.”

Jennings nodded.  “Thank you, my lady.”  Gratitude shimmered in his eyes.

“You are welcome.”  She retrieved her bag.  “I’ll come and check on her in a couple of hours.  But do send for me if her fever returns before then.”

Midway down the stairs, Amelia realized her exhaustion.  She stumbled, and would have fallen the rest of the way down if Julian hadn’t caught her.

“You need some rest, Pixie,” he said in her ear, holding her around her waist.

She placed a hand on the wall.  He had called her ‘Pixie,’ the same name he used to call her those years ago.  While being charming and attentive—every woman’s perfect fantasy.  Her pulse raced.

“Come, I’ll help you to bed.”

Amelia closed her eyes a moment.  Lord, give her strength.  Give her strength to resist this sinister rogue.  Give her strength to not hand him her heart again.  She’d not survive another broken heart.  She very nearly didn’t survive the first one.

Julian assisted her down the steps and to her room.  At the door, she turned, finally finding her voice.  “Thank you, I can manage now.”

His smile was slow and wicked.  “I think you still require my assistance.”  He maneuvered his way into the room and shut the door behind him.

A tremor went through her.  Of delight or dread, she couldn’t tell.  She backed away, glancing everywhere, trying to think straight.  But her thoughts churned with the feel of Julian’s lips on hers…his hands peeling away her clothes…his naked body covering hers…  “You should leave now, my lord.”  All right, so she couldn’t help how shrill and frantic she sounded.  She’d had very little sleep the night before, after all.

A gleam entered his eyes.  “Surely you’re not frightened, Amelia?”

Terrified.  “No.”

“Then why do you look so scared?”

The wall behind her halted any further retreat.

“What are you so afraid of?”  He approached, towering over her, and removed the bag she had clutched to her chest, depositing it on the floor.  Then he placed his hands on the wall at either side of her head.  “You’re not afraid of my kisses, are you?”  His voice had dropped to a husky whisper and he stood so close, his nose nearly touched hers.

She plastered herself against the wall unable to move an eyelash, not just afraid of his kisses.  Terrified of them.  Terrified of how they made her feel.  Terrified that with each contact of his lips, he’d won another piece of her heart.

“Know what I’d like to do to you right now?”

She swallowed.

“I’d like to drop my mouth down over yours, part your lips with my tongue, and taste you.  At the same time, my hands would shed the clothes from your body.”

A shiver when through her.

“My fingers would graze your nipples, making them rigid for me.”

Her breasts began to tingle.

“Then I would lower my lips, gliding them down your throat and would capture a sweet nipple in my mouth.”  His smoldering gaze stayed locked on hers.  “My right hand would glide down your stomach…” she almost groaned “…to the secret place between your legs.”

Her center throbbed.

“I’d slip a finger in first,” he whispered, “to feel how wet you were for me.”

She was wet, all right.

“Then I’d lift you up and set you down on my hard—”

“Stop it, Julian.”  Shaking with need, she closed her eyes.  The pictures he’d planted in her head wouldn’t go away, though.  Her entire body flamed like a torch.

“I can help you, Amelia.”

She opened her eyes.

“All you have to do is say the words.”

Every fiber of her body screamed out for her to say yes.  But she couldn’t do it.  The price would be too high to pay.  If she made love to Julian, her whole heart would belong to him once again.  Which would mean another heartbreak when he got bored with her.  And that would likely happen the moment he got his way.  Once he conquered her, he’d lose interest and be off to conquer someone else.