Love's Portrait (14 page)

Quietly, he returned to the bed. Slipping beneath the covers, he kissed her forehead with tenderness. The touch made her stir, and her eyes fluttered open.

“Morgan?”

“Shh, go back to sleep,” he whispered.

“But I’m not sleepy, anymore.” Her mouth parted in a wide yawn. Chuckling, he flicked her nose with his forefinger.

“Well I am, and I want to wake up with you in my arms.”

With another sleepy nod, she closed her eyes and burrowed into him like a sleek cat. He relished the sensation. He closed his eyes and listened to the soft, steadiness of her breathing. Tonight was the beginning of a future he’d never imagined possible. A heaviness filled his limbs as sleep slowly conquered him. Just before he sank into the peaceful dream realm, he smiled. Tomorrow he’d propose to Julia.

Chapter 9

Pink and orange trails of color glimmered outside the window as Julia quietly finished dressing. She would need to hurry or Morgan might awake. It would be disastrous if she were still here and that happened. He would no doubt try to stop her from leaving, and it would be difficult to resist him. He had a way of bending her to his will, and she couldn’t afford to let him change her mind about ending their affair.

Glancing back toward the bed where he slept, she studied him for a long moment. She could have stood there for hours just watching him sleep, the way his chest quietly rose and fell from his steady breathing. In sleep, the harsh planes of his face had softened.

The lean hardness of his body was tangled in the white bed sheet and had fallen to his waist. Her gaze caressed the hard curves of his chest displayed so handsomely in the still muted light of the room. Last night she’d adorned that steely torso with loving kisses. It was a memory she would cherish forever.

He stirred in his slumber, and a long, muscular leg thrust its way out from under the sheet to reveal the limb from foot to hip. The line of his thigh was beautiful. No artist could have created a shape so perfectly male. And there was nothing more dangerous than Morgan St. Claire and the unbelievable maleness of him.

Pain wrapped an icy band around her heart. She hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to simply walk away from him. Swallowing the anguish swelling her throat shut, she pulled a piece of white silk from her beaded bag and laid it by his pillow. What would he do when he awoke? Would he be angry?

Of course he would. He’d be furious. The thought frightened her. Oscar had always made her pay dearly whenever she’d made him angry. She frowned as she chided herself. Morgan wasn’t anything like her late husband. He’d not said or done anything to make her think she should fear him. It didn’t matter. The sooner she left, the easier it would make things. There was no telling what he would do if she were still here when he awoke.

The thought of it made her quickly gather the last of her things. With one last look at him, she pulled her veil over her face. She wasn’t just leaving Morgan—she was leaving her heart as well. It was something she’d not planned for. A soft sob whispered past her lips as she raced from the room.

∫

Outside his window, the sounds of the city coming to life pulled Morgan from a deep sleep. Rolling over, he reached for Julia to pull her into his side. When his hands didn’t find her softness, he shot up in bed. A quick glance around the room confirmed his fear. She was gone.

Damn the woman. He’d told her last night how he’d wanted to wake up with her in his arms. When was she going to learn he didn’t like to be thwarted? He grinned. It was something he needed to get used too. Julia wasn’t likely to become a meek and mild wife once they were married. But then he didn’t want her any other way.

Tossing back the covers, he scrambled out of bed. As he did so, a white square of silk fluttered to the floor. A frown furrowed his brow as he bent to retrieve the material. The softly scented handkerchief bore the initials J.W.

Stunned, he stared at the monogram. It wasn’t possible. Cold air cloaked his body as he sank down onto the bed. Numb to all sensation but the silk square he held, he rubbed the handkerchief between his fingers. The softness of it disgusted him. It symbolized the view a large sector of society mistakenly held of him. A man whose affairs rivaled even Prince Edward’s. He didn’t give a damn about society, but he cared deeply about what Julia thought of him.

She must think him a true scoundrel if she actually believed him so callous as to leave a handkerchief every time he parted with a mistress. But then he’d allowed her to believe that ridiculous myth society had created. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have taken the opportunity to silently declare their relationship null and void in such a calculated fashion. He’d always been entertained by the fictitious stories about his monogrammed handkerchiefs. The legend of how he ended all of his affairs by offering one of them to his lover to dry her eyes had been amusing. Until now.

Anger barreled through him as he snatched up his robe and threw it on over his shoulders. Cinching the sash around his waist with a sharp tug, he paced the floor of his room. Damn her. She’d crept out like a thief in the night. But she sure as hell had left her damnable calling card. He crumpled the silk square in his fist.

It had been a long time since he’d been snubbed. He didn’t like it one bit. Especially since he had every intention of marrying the woman. She was mad if she thought she could end things between them. She’d felt something last night. He was certain of it.

Her response to him throughout the night had been no act. Everything about her had been passionate, giving and above all, genuine. Julia cared for him.

She
had
too.

Roughly shoving a hand through his hair, he halted his pacing. He didn’t want to consider the possibility that last night had meant nothing to her. If she’d come to him simply to fulfill the wager it would make what they’d shared sullied. Their lovemaking had aroused him not just because of her body, but also because of who she was.

He wanted more than just one night of passion from her. He wanted a lifetime of them. Then there were the quieter moments he craved. Those times when she wasn’t aware of his gaze. When he could simply study her and be thankful he was near her.

Bloody hell. He’d make a mess of things. He’d done everything he could to win her desire, but he’d done nothing to win her heart. What if that weren’t possible? Every muscle in his body ached with tension at the very real possibility that she would not want him. He immediately rejected the notion.

No. He would find a way to win her heart. The alternative was unthinkable. With a grunt, he rang for a bath and readied his shaving tools. Julia was his, and he intended to make sure she understood they belonged together.

More than an hour later, Morgan’s thumb pressed the doorbell outside Julia’s house for a prolonged moment. As he eased up on the pressure, the door opened to reveal her butler. Almost immediately, dismay settled on Calvert’s face.

“I’m sorry, sir. Mrs. Westgard is not receiving visitors.”

“She’ll see me.”

“I am sorry, sir, but she made a specific point of instructing me not to let you into the house.”

For a moment, he wasn’t sure he’d understood the man, but one look at the uneasy expression on the butler’s face told him he’d heard correctly. Damn the woman. If she thought to sway him from seeing her, she was quite mistaken.

“Calvert, I’m a reasonable man. I understand you’re following instructions. However, if you don’t step out of my way, I doubt you’ll be answering this door any time in the near future.”

He sent the man a look of grim determination. Threats were not to his liking, but no one was going to keep him from seeing Julia. Not even the woman herself. Calvert took a hasty step backwards. Nodding his approval, Morgan stepped into the small foyer and handed the other man his hat and cane. With sharp movements, he tugged his gray gloves off and dropped them into the soft felt homburg.

“Where is she?”

“The salon, sir.”

In two strides, he was charging up the stairs and into the salon. Quietly, he closed the door behind him. She sat with her back to him at her desk, writing a letter.

“Who was at the door, Calvert?” She asked in a frazzled tone of voice.

“Good morning. Julia.”

With a cry of surprise she sprang to her feet, knocking the chair over as she wheeled about to face him. The dismay on Julia’s face didn’t surprise him, but there was another emotion that shimmered in her gaze for a fleeting moment that sent a twinge of dread through him. He ignored the sensation and studied her for a long moment. She was beautiful. The yellow silk of her dress hugged her figure just as his hand had done last night.

No other woman had looked so alluring or tempting to him. Even with her lovely body completely hidden from his eyes, he remembered every inch of her. The woman had no idea how much power she wielded where he was concern. He would give up everything he owned just to have her say yes to his proposal. Yes to a lifetime of happiness he’d never dreamed possible until he’d met Julia. Once they’d settled this small matter of his handkerchief, they were going to spend the day in bed where he’d convinced her of the sincerity of his feelings. The pleasant thought twisted his mouth into a small smile.

Her eyes narrowed as she found her voice. “How did you get in here?”

“I’m afraid I resorted to threats. Not a pleasant chore, but necessary given the rather unpleasant calling card I received this morning.” Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out his silk handkerchief and dangled it in the air.

“Apparently you failed to understand the message. I’ve paid my wager in full. There will be nothing further between us.”

The icy note in her voice made him frown. Where was the woman he’d made love to last night? The woman he wanted to make his forever. He studied her carefully. Her mouth was tight with tension, and despite her relatively calm demeanor, the fluttering pulse at the side of her neck belied her anything but serene state. He cleared his throat as he took a step toward her.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Julia.”

Despite the furious glare she directed at him, her face paled considerably. One hand gripping the edge of the desk behind her, she squared her shoulders.

“You can’t stand it, can you? You can’t stand the fact that a woman had the audacity to reject you.”

“
Damn it
, that’s not the issue at all. You left me without an explanation of why.”

“I don’t owe you any explanation.”

“I think you do,” he said quietly. “What we shared last night was incredible. And I have no intention of letting that go.”

“I refuse to join the St. Claire league of mistresses.”

“Then marry me.”

∫

She stared at him in stunned silence as ice sluiced through her veins. Mad, the man was stark raving mad. What on earth had possessed him to offer her marriage? The way he stood there so calm, so confident. Her heart was breaking at the sight of him. Part of her wanted nothing more than to fly into his arms and let him hold her.

Immediately she snuffed out the image. Last night had been a beautiful dream. It had made it easy to leave him while he was asleep. Her resolution to end their affair had been much easier to maintain at that point in time.

Now, having that penetrating gaze of his riveted on her, her resolve was shaky at best. And he’d proposed
marriage
. What possible reason could he have for doing such a thing? Flinching, she pressed her hands against her stomach in a vain effort to stop the wild emotions churning through her. His reasons were irrelevant. She had no intention of marrying Morgan St. Claire.

She would never marry again. Oscar had destroyed all her illusions about marriage with his cruelty and vile behavior. Marriage was nothing more than a prison. The thought had no sooner entered her head than her eyes focused on Morgan’s face.

The firm set of his jaw showed how determined—how confident he was. It frightened her. He had a look about him that said he wasn’t about to take no for an answer. It was cowardly, but all she wanted to do was escape. She couldn’t help it.

She was terrified he might convince her to marry him despite all the reasons she shouldn’t and couldn’t do so. It would be even worse if he realized she cared for him. Erecting every barrier around her heart she could muster, she steeled herself for the battle to come. And it would be a battle. The stubbornness in his blue gaze assured of that. She quivered as a muscle in his cheek twitched. He was a man on the edge. She could read it in the way he held himself.

“Usually when a man proposes, the woman responds.” Morgan’s voice echoed through the room as if a clap of thunder had reverberated directly over her head. She jumped. Dear lord, the man had been serious.

“You’re delusional,” she exclaimed.

“That was
not
the answer I was looking for.”

“It’s the only one you’ll get,” she said in a tight voice as panic flooded her limbs. With a sharp move, she swept past him on her way to the door. “Now if you’ll forgive me, I’ve matters to attend too. Please see yourself out.”

The safety of the salon door was almost within her reach when a strong hand captured her wrist and pulled her to a halt. The heat sliding up her arm from his touch spread its way through her body with the speed of lightening. Whipping around to face him, she stared down at his hand.

Sweet heaven, she didn’t want to pull away from him. She fought to suppress the mist of desire threatening to blind her to everything but him and his touch. With a jerk, she tugged free of his hold and glared at him. There was an implacable gleam in his eyes as he met her gaze steadily.

“So you’re willing to forget everything that’s passed between us. Last night even?”

The gruff note in his voice made her mouth grow dry. There was a tenderness in the sound that shook her resolve more than anything he could ever say to her. He was right. Last night had been a night she would cherish the rest of her life. Passion, tenderness and happiness had been hers for a few short hours.