The Earl Takes All (22 page)

It touched her that he included her in that statement, that he made her feel as though she had been generous as well when she had in fact had nothing at all to do with it.

“I'm thinking you should publish your stories,” she said.

“Only if you're willing to include your watercolors.”

She laughed, pleased and embarrassed by the notion. “They're not that good.”

“They're very good. They bring my words to life. I wished I'd had them with me when I was recounting my tales to Johnny and his sisters.”

She shook her head. “I never meant to share them with anyone other than my child.”

Placing his elbows on the table, he leaned forward. “Why would you limit them to bringing only one child joy when they could bring happiness to so many?”

“You never struck me as someone who cared so much about children.” Yet, she'd seen it in the attention he gave Allie and the camaraderie he'd developed with a young lad who had no qualms whatsoever in climbing over a lord of the realm.

He grinned. “It's a fault of having never grown up.”

But he had grown up. She'd seen that as well. He was a caring landowner. He took care of people. He possessed a kindness that he'd kept hidden from her; yet it had been there all along when he tried to ensure that Albert never became aware of his feelings for Julia. When he'd allowed himself to be disparaged and disliked in order to protect her and Albert.

“We would have to give the story a name,” she told him.

“
The Adventurous Friends of Havisham Hall
.”

She laughed. “We should probably disguise it a bit more.”

“We'll think on it, then.”

It was as though they were planning a future. Whether or not they decided to spend their life together, they would have the stories, the books to connect them. They would have something that they had created together. But she doubted it would be enough to sustain her.

She needed more.

As they rode back toward Evermore, the words echoed with the plodding of her horse's hooves. She needed more. Needed more.

She needed the wind in her face, the freedom, the danger, the chase. Before he could caution her against it, she yelled, “I'll race you to the top of the distant rise,” and prompted her horse into a sprint.

Without any doubt, she knew she was being reckless, but he seemed to call out that aspect of her. She'd spent her entire life striving to be the good daughter, the good cousin, the good wife. She regretted not a single moment of it, yet with him she felt no need to judge her actions before she acted. She experienced a certain independence that had never characterized her behavior before. Originally she'd credited it to changes within her while her husband was away, but she realized now it had more to do with Edward taking on a significant role in her life—­even before she realized he was Edward.

She heard the pounding of his horse's hooves and urged her own into a faster gallop. She felt young, happy, unburdened. For the first time in weeks, sorrow was not dogging her heels.

His horse's labored breathing sounding so very close signaled that he was catching up, but she was almost there. Just a bit farther. Then she crested the rise, drew her mare up short, spun around. Her laughter echoed through the copse of trees, up to the heavens and over the land surrounding her.

He was grinning broadly as he brought his own beast to a stop. “Well done.”

“I can't remember the last time I rode with such abandon.”

“We need to give the horses a rest.” He dismounted, walked over to her and held up his arms.

His nearness still caused a fluttering in her belly, but her triumph overrode the sensations. She'd controlled her horse; she could control him. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she broke away from him and, with a teasing giggle, dashed over to a nearby tree. His deep laughter floated toward her, and she heard the thud of his footfalls.

Whirling around, she pressed her back to the tree. “No touching, no kissing,” she ordered, knowing that with the barest of caresses she would find herself ceding control over to him.

Before she was even aware of his intent, he was leaning in, his forearms raised and resting against the bark, his head bent, his cheek nearly but not quite touching hers. “Not touching,” he rasped, his raw voice sending a shiver of desire through her.

“But if I were allowed to touch you,” he said on a seductive whisper, “I would begin with your gloves, slowly unbuttoning them before peeling them off, one at a time, stuffing them in the pocket of my jacket. I would press a kiss to the knuckles of your left hand, the palm of your right.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as she imagined the heat of his mouth coating her skin in dew.

“Then I would free two buttons of your bodice—­only two—­just enough so I could dip my tongue into the hollow at your throat.”

Her breath grew shallow, heat surged through her.

“I would lap at your skin, three times, four, before trailing my lips up to the underside of your jaw. I would inhale the rose fragrance tucked away behind your ear, and skim my mouth over your neck, from one side to the other and back to center.”

“Edward—­”

“Shh, I'm not done yet.”

But she nearly was. She didn't know how she continued to stand when her legs had become unsteady.

“Two more buttons I would loosen; nay, three. I would slip one finger between the parted cloth and glide it slowly, lightly, provocatively over the swells of your breasts, aware of your sharp intake of breath as you lifted them higher, yearning for a surer caress, one that encompassed the whole of my hand reaching inside your corset, your chemise, to cup your entire breast—­”

“Oh, my Lord,” she breathed out on a whisper.

“—­my thumb and forefinger pinching the tight little bud of your nipple as it puckered for me.”

She swallowed hard. She'd thought she was in control, but he had easily reversed their roles until she was little more than his puppet. Dampness formed between her thighs. Her nipples were not the only buds reaching for him, desperate for the pressure of his hand stirring sensations to life, eclipsing the fantasy with reality.

“If I had leave to touch you—­”

“Don't,” she pleaded in a raw voice that sounded as though it belonged to another woman.

“If I had leave to touch you, I would go to my knees and lift your skirt high, exposing the pink heart of your womanhood. I know it's glistening with dampness at this very moment. Even without being able to touch you, I can feel the heat of passion radiating from you. I suspect your breasts are straining against the cloth, desperate for the caress you're denying them. You're throbbing between your thighs. My tongue could offer surcease, with just the right amount of pressure I could have you screaming.”

Her eyes flew open. “You're the very devil.”

He laughed darkly. “Tell me I'm wrong.”

“You know you're not, damn you.”

“I've never wanted a woman as much as I want you. You torment me. It's only fair that I torment you.”

“And once you've had me?”

“I'll want you again.”

“How do you know?”

Pushing back, he held her gaze. “Because I love you.”

“What if it's just that we were lost in the pretense?”

“The pretense is gone now, yet still the emotions remain. Why do you doubt?”

“Most are lucky to be loved once. Why should I be fortunate enough to be loved twice, to have happiness twice? I'm afraid fate will snatch it away if I reach for it again.”

“So I'll be denied because you don't trust fate? Fate can go to the devil, Julia. Place your trust in me.”

Reaching up, she brushed his hair back from his brow. Somewhere along the way he'd lost his hat. “A little more time, Edward.”

“I'd be lying if I said I'm in no hurry. I want you with a desperation that threatens to unman me, but I want all of you, without guilt, without shadows, without ghosts. And for that I will wait with all the patience I can muster.”

He understood her, comprehended why she struggled. She didn't want to lose her past, but she had to let go of it in order to reach for a future with him. But always he would be inextricably tied to Albert. “I'm closer to saying goodbye to what was. I enjoy the time I spend with you. I'm glad for the opportunities to get to know you better. You're not at all as I thought you were. You may be the least selfish person I've ever known.”

“Don't make me into a saint.”

“Oh, I'm not so much taken with you that I would mistake you for anything other than the devilish sort. It's only that I'm coming to realize I like the devilish sort.”

Chapter 21

W
inter
finally gave way to spring, the appearance of the first buds filling Edward with hope as he took his morning walk with Julia. They frequented the mausoleum less often. Sometimes they simply strolled past it. Some mornings, Julia indicated she wished to go in a different direction.

While their time together remained relatively chaste, he wasn't above trailing a finger along her exposed skin if the opportunity arose as they were going into dinner, pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck as he leaned over to help her set up her billiards shot, bussing his lips over her cheek as he handed her brandy before they sat in front of the fire within his library.

“Will you be riding out to see any tenants today?” she asked as the mausoleum came into view.

“It's too fine a day for that. I was thinking a picnic was in order.”

“Let's go this way,” she said, indicating a detour and a day that focused only on the present, not the past. “A picnic, then?”

“Yes, I thought we should take Allie on her first one.”

“She won't remember it.”

“But we will.”

As usual, her hand was on his arm. She pressed up against his shoulder. “Oh, Edward, I think a picnic would be lovely.”

“Grey,” he reminded her.

“There's no one out here to overhear.”

“But if you are in the habit of using my title, you are less likely to slip up as I did with my hearing. At least until you have made up your mind concerning our course.”

“I've caught a couple of the servants looking at me oddly. I'm not sure they know what to make of my no longer calling you Albert.”

“It is not their place to make anything of it, nor should we concern ourselves with what they think.”

“I know, but if we go to London together, I think others will find it odd as well.”

If they went to London together. He wondered how much longer it would be before she said
when
they went to London together. “People notice far less than we think.”

“Not among the nobility. Especially among the ladies. They're all searching for gossip.”

“Did you?”

She laughed, the joyous sound that always traveled straight into his soul. It was becoming more difficult not to take her in his arms and kiss her. He wanted to give her the time she required, but damnation, it was torment to keep his desires chained. But then most widows mourned for two years. The Queen still mourned the loss of her husband, and nearly twenty years had passed since his death.

“Of course I did. Especially my first Season. Not so much now. It's a game the ladies play. Who can uncover the best gossip? Anyone who uncovered our story would be heralded.” The laughter was gone, her voice tinged with sadness.

“No one will suspect anything sordid of you,” he assured her. “You are too well liked, too respected. They won't even be looking.”

“You don't know ladies as well as I thought if you believe that. The taller one's pedestal, the more determined they are to find a way to knock her off it. Besides everyone loves a scandal.”

“We don't have to go to London.”

She stopped walking and faced him. “Of course you do. You now sit in the House of Lords.” Reaching up, she cradled his face. “I don't fear London.”

“What do you fear?”

She looked out over the rolling hills that were now covered in wildflowers. “Stepping onto a path that will lead to Allie's ruination.”

“If she is half as strong as her mother, there is nothing that will ever cause her ruin.”

“I hope you're right.” She smiled brightly. “Let's take her on that picnic, shall we?”

H
e
chose a spot near the small pond where he and Albert had fished as lads, where he had shoved his brother into the frigid waters for declaring that Edward would always have to follow his commands. To Albert, he'd proven his point that he wouldn't be ordered about. To himself, he'd proven that he'd always be there to get his brother out of trouble, even if he was the one who originally got Albert into it.

When Albert partially lost his hearing, Edward had learned there were consequences to his actions. That lesson had not served him as well as it might have.

Had he told Julia the truth shortly after she'd delivered, he might not have lost her trust, might not now be stretched out on a blanket with her sitting feet away from him—­instead of nestled against him—­and Allie resting on her stomach between them, periodically pushing her head up so she could gaze at her surroundings. She had the sweetest smile, and he suspected she was going to break many a heart.

Unfortunately, he feared her mother was going to break his.

The nanny was reading several yards away, her back resting against the trunk of a tree. He wondered if Julia had wanted her in attendance not such much to care for Allie should the need arise, but to ensure that he didn't take advantage. Although why she thought he would now when he hadn't yet was beyond him. Except that maybe she could tell he was skirting the limits of his patience.

He wanted her—­badly.

She was wearing a dress of dark blue. A wide-­brimmed hat shaded her from the sun, and had hidden much of her face from his view until he'd gone down on an elbow, with the excuse of wanting to be nearer to Allie. But whenever he brought his face in close to his niece and made her smile, he was able to lift his gaze just enough to see her mother's serene expression.

He liked that she appeared happy, liked that perhaps the darker days were behind her. He didn't fool himself into believing she wasn't mourning or that she would ever be grateful to have lost Albert in order to gain Edward. He understood his place in her heart. But coming in second when he had no hope of being first was something with which he could live.

All that mattered to him was that
for him
she would always be first. Every other woman didn't even come in a close second. Each was dead last. He wasn't willing to settle for less than what he wanted, even if it took a lifetime to acquire her. Without her, his life had no anchor, no purchase, no direction. Even being the Earl of Greyling gave less purpose to his life than she did.

For her and her daughter, he would rule a kingdom. Without them, it was merely land to be looked after.

She took a sip of wine, nibbled delicately on some cheese, and while she appeared to be occupied with something in the distance, from his lower vantage point he could see how often her gaze flicked to him. She was not as immune to his presence as she wanted him to believe.

“It's unseasonable warm today,” he said.

“I hadn't noticed. I find it rather pleasant. I do hope you're not taking another fever.”

“Could be that I'm just warm because you're near.”

She laughed, a tinkling that would open the gates to heaven. “Please don't ruin our afternoon with trite flattery.”

“For two months, Julia, I've been as steadfast a friend as possible. How can I win you over without flattery, without seducing you? How much longer must I behave?”

Her gaze darted to Nanny.

“She can't hear us,” he said. “Besides, she believes me to be your husband. She would think nothing of it if I were to take liberties.”

Julia took another sip of wine, touched her tongue to the bow of her upper lip. God help him, but he wanted to dive across the distance separating them and place his own tongue there. Pushing himself up, he shirked out of his jacket and tossed it near the spot where he'd earlier pitched his hat.

“What are you doing?” Julia asked.

“I told you that I'm hot. Stiflingly so. I feel as though I'm suffocating.” He tugged on his neck cloth.

“Wait.” Her voice held no panic but there was something primal in it that caused his lower extremity to stir. Not that it generally took much from her for that to happen. “Nanny! Take Lady Alberta to the nursery. I fear it's growing much too warm out here for her.”

“Yes, m'lady.” She placed her book in the bag that contained Allie's things, slung it over her shoulder, marched over and plucked the child into her arms. Allie squealed with delight. “You are flushed, little one. Let's leave Mummy and Daddy to enjoy the picnic while we enjoy a nap.”

With the nanny's parting words, he felt Julia's mood change as though a shroud had been dropped over her. Neither of them spoke nor moved until the woman had disappeared over the rise.

“Would we ever tell her about her father?” Julia asked quietly, her gaze directed where they had gone as though she had the ability to follow their progress to the manor and into the nursery.

“When she's old enough to understand the import of keeping it a secret.”

“Until then she'll believe you're her father. How will she feel when she finds out differently?”

“We don't have to tell her.”

With a sigh, she looked at him.

He rose up on a knee, held out a hand. “Come here.”

She took the time to remove her hat before coming into his arms.

“It's not perfect, Julia, but the alternative is that we shall never have this.” Gently, tenderly, holding all the hunger and need at bay, he angled her back over his raised knee and lowered his mouth to hers. It was as though he had finally come home. As though all his journeys, all his adventures, had been simply a quest for what he could not identify. But here it was at last, with her fingers cradling his jaw, her sighs filling his ears, her mouth moving over his with wild abandon.

No other woman made him feel whole, complete. No other woman touched the very essence of him. No other woman made him want to put away his roguish ways. How much simpler life would be if he could walk away, but he could no more do that than he could cease to breathe.

She twisted in his arms, changing the angle so he could more easily deepen the kiss, and he did just that, sliding his tongue over hers, threading his fingers through her hair until he could hold her head. He wanted to take her down to the blanket, take her as though she belonged to him. But that step had to come from her. He wanted her to have no doubts, no regrets. Once they were as one, there would be no turning back.

She was not a woman who gave herself lightly. It made him want her all the more, made him determined to be what she deserved.

Breaking off the kiss, he held her gaze, her eyes pools of limpid blue. “I could give you the vows.”

Her gaze roamed over his face as she feathered her fingers lightly through his hair. “I want to show you something I've done in watercolors.”

Not what he'd expected. A profession of love was more what he had in mind. Not a desire to share whimsical creatures with him. He cursed his foolish heart for misjudging her readiness, for believing that a kiss and a few well-­placed words could turn the tide in his favor.

Helping her straighten, he said, “I'd like that very much.”

“I've heard more enthusiasm from someone on the verge of having a tooth extracted.” She gave him a teasing smile. “But trust me, you're going to be ever so glad that I showed it to you.”

A
s
Julia watched Edward pack up their picnic, she could no longer deny the strength of her feelings for him. She'd almost laughed aloud watching him strive for a look of innocence that barely passed muster while he removed his jacket. She was fairly certain the neck cloth and waistcoat were going to join it in the pile quickly enough. A few loosened buttons, the rolling up of his shirtsleeves to expose those corded forearms, and he'd have had her mouth watering.

She wasn't averse to being taken on a blanket in a field by a pond—­on another day. On this one, she needed something different.

He offered his arm, and she wound hers around it. Strange how he made her feel small and delicate. He'd regained the weight he lost during his illness. He was out riding every day, assisting tenants where he could. He thrived in the outdoors. She wondered if he would ever be truly content serving as lord of the manor, or if a time would come when the wanderlust took hold again.

“Do you have any plans to travel?” she asked as the wide front steps of the manor came into view.

“Not presently. Is there somewhere you would like to go? I'll book passage wherever you want, whenever you want.”

“I've always found the idea of being on the sea rather daunting. To look out and see nothing stretching into forever.” She'd seen it from the shore. She couldn't imagine being in the center of it.

“Ah, but then you sight land after days or weeks of travel, and the joy of it can almost make a man weep.”

“I shall take your word for it.”

“You have no desire to travel?”

“Not while Allie is so small.”

“We could take her with us.”

She laughed. How like a man. “Have you no idea what all is required to travel with an infant? Even our journey to London will require extra planning and room for her things.”

“We can purchase whatever she needs when we get to London.”

“She will require things along the way. And you like to go to remote, unpopulated places. How will you provide for her there?”

“I can be most resourceful.”

She didn't doubt it. To be honest, she would like to be with him somewhere far away beneath the stars where they would not be subjected to Society's censures. No matter what choice she made, it came with a cost. The gossips were not prone to listening to reason, to making allowances, to understanding circumstances that warranted unprecedented actions.

Inside the residence, they walked the familiar hallways until they reached what had once been her favorite room. Now she was torn between the nursery, his library, and the billiards room. She enjoyed each one with equal measure.

Still, this room and what she did within it brought her peace. She led him to a table where an assortment of drawings were scattered. The one she wanted was on the bottom, hidden away. Bringing it out, she set it on top. “A new character for the stories.”