Season for Temptation (20 page)

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Authors: Theresa Romain

BOOK: Season for Temptation
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Chapter 21
In Which a Carriage Plays Host to Unexpected Revelations
James shut his eyes in despair. Why? Why did this have to happen to him? Why should he be thrown into this situation—to have temptation rubbed in his face, practically? He tried to be a good person. He
was
a good person. Well, except for the whole loving-hisfiancée's-sister thing.
His clothes felt uncomfortably tight and hot, and he shifted as far away from Julia as he could. Staring at the carriage floor, he pressed his lips together, determined not to speak. He would hold still and remain silent, for as long as it took. The ride would be short, and then it would be over and he would be out of danger once more.
But a snarl of carriages blocked their way, and James could hear the coachman shouting oaths at the other drivers whose masters and mistresses were still inside, not yet ready to leave the crush indoors to create one outdoors. He shook his head in despair. This would take a while.
Well, it didn't matter how long it took. It could take seven years, and he would not speak. He would hold still. For as long as it took. Surely he was capable of that much.
Maybe if he thought it over and over again, it would become true.
“What's wrong?” asked a soft voice from the other side of the carriage.
“Pardon?” Damn. He'd sworn not to speak. But he couldn't ignore a direct question.
“I could see you shaking your head. Is something wrong?”
“Oh. No. The carriage has to wait before it can leave.”
“Oh,” Julia echoed. After a pause came her voice again. “Well, that's all right, isn't it? I like waiting with you.”
James felt even hotter, and he tugged at his neckcloth. “Err . . .” was the only sound he could force out of his mouth. Not his finest reaction ever.
“Let me help,” said Julia, sliding toward him on the carriage seat. “I know you are very stylish, but there's no need to be uncomfortable now that we're alone. And it must be so scratchy to have that giant cloth around your neck all the time.” Small hands ministered to him, deftly undoing the intricate knots and folds of his neckcloth, and James groaned.
“Did I hurt you?” Julia asked, concerned. “Did I strangle you or something? I really didn't mean to strangle you.”
“You didn't,” James replied, his voice sounding very strangled indeed.
“Oh, good,” she said. With a laugh, she admitted, “I've never removed a gentleman's clothes before.”
He cleared his throat and tried to speak, but no sound came out. He swallowed, then tried again. “Julia, that is not a proper comment for a young lady to make.”
“I was just joking,” she said, sounding defensive. After a pause, she continued, “Well, not really. I mean, it really was a joke in that I said it for humorous purposes, but it is also literally true.”
James sat in silence, trying desperately not to think of clothes being removed. His clothes, her clothes, his clothes being removed by her, her clothes being removed by him . . . no, it was no use; he simply couldn't get the images out of his head. He groaned again.
The small sound, which he tried to stifle, seemed to inspire Julia to continue.
“I hope you know I would only say that to you.”
“Yes, well, I feel very comfortable making amusing comments around you as well,” he said stiffly. It was a lie, of course; he felt anything but comfortable. When was this cursed carriage going to get on its way? Desperately, he looked out the window, and the slanting moonlight showed him that he was still caught in a great snarl of traffic.
Wonderful. He obviously must have done something terrible without knowing it, because the Fates were tempting him viciously. He shifted as far away from Julia as he could.
But she spoke on, her words weaving a quiet spell. “No, I mean . . . I would only want you to hear me say such things. Things that are improper.”
Even in the moonlit darkness, he swore he could see the hot color rising in her cheeks. His groin tightened. What was she saying? Good God, how could this be happening to him? It was like a dream and nightmare at once, as her hand found his fingers and then his knee. And then began moving up his leg.
“You don't know what you're saying or doing,” he said huskily, removing her hand from his thigh but keeping it held in his clasp. “That's the punch acting on you.”
“No, it's not,” she insisted, her enunciation overly precise.
“Well, maybe it is a little,” she admitted, “but only because it let me tell you what I've been thinking for a long time.” She began to laugh raggedly. “I can't believe I said that, though. Or touched you. I'm going to be so embarrassed in the morning.”
Her laugh trailed off, and she looked straight into his eyes. She withdrew her hand from his to press it firmly against her other hand, it seemed for courage.
“But right now I don't care. I know I am just a silly country girl who says the wrong thing, and eats too much to be ladylike, and likes
ton
parties because they use beeswax candles, and gets impressed by stupid things like new gowns, and—oh, God—and you're going to marry my sister.”
Her intense gaze dropped, and she rubbed her hands over her face impatiently. “I know you love my sister, and you're going to be married. But I love you, and I think of you all the time, and I think of you in ways that I shouldn't. And I didn't intend for you ever to know, but it was just bursting inside me, and now I am glad I told you.”
“Julia,” he said softly, and his voice broke. He couldn't go on. He had no idea what to say, anyway, so he simply took her hand back again, savoring the feel of her slim fingers in his. He felt as if his heart were breaking and being remade anew, both at the same time.
He tried again to speak. “Julia. I care for you very much. More than you know—”
She cut him off with an impatient gesture and again drew her hand back from his. “I know you do, but I don't want brotherly love. I want
real
love. The kind of love that men and women are supposed to have for each other. The love people have in novels. Love like a husband and wife should have, and that I have for you.”
In a small voice, she added, “Louisa doesn't love you like I do. She told me so. I probably shouldn't have told you that either, though.”
“You don't know what you're saying,” he repeated, unable to think of anything else in reply. Surely she didn't know what she was saying. She didn't,
couldn't
, know what she was saying.
But she
had
said it. She loved him? And Louisa didn't love him?
But . . . Julia did?
He had to take hold of himself.
“It doesn't matter,” he continued in what he hoped was a firm voice. He strove for formality to keep a grip on his emotions.
“I am very flattered by what you say, of course. But Louisa has agreed to marry me, and that decision is irrevocable on my part regardless of my own feelings. I believe we will be compatible. And naturally, I have tried to make her love me, and I will continue to do so.”
There, that sounded good. He hoped.
“Oh, James,” she said, shaking her head, and he could see in the faintness of moonlight that her eyes were soft, her gaze so liquid and deep he felt as if he were sinking into it. “You didn't even have to try to make me love you. I think I loved you the first time I met you, when I horrified you over the tea and biscuits at Stonemeadows and you teased me so kindly. It took me a while to realize it, but I have loved you always.”
Her words poured over him like a healing rain. He sat, stunned, his thoughts scattering in different directions. She loved him. He loved her. They could be together....
No. There was one thing he had to remember and hold on to.
“I have promised to marry Louisa.” He swallowed, but the lump in his throat wouldn't go away.
“But do you love me?” she asked, her eyes huge and beseeching, and he felt the carriage jerk to a start at last. Its jolt echoed through him. His heart pounded as her eyes sought his in the moonlight, and heat spread throughout his body. He couldn't stand this anymore; she was torturing him. It was sheer agony, yet it was the finest feeling he had ever known.
“Do you?” she asked again, leaning closer.
“Yes,” he whispered. “Yes.”
That was all she needed to hear, and all he needed to say. They slid toward each other on the seat as if drawn by magnets, and Julia eagerly reached to touch his face. She ran light fingers over the planes of his cheeks, his jaw, and she pressed feathery kisses onto his forehead. He shut his eyes in ecstasy, letting her do what she wanted with him, and his hands found the light folds of her gown and pulled her closer.
“You love me,” she repeated in wonderment. “I never dared hope.”
Then, being Julia, she began to babble. “I mean, I always hoped, but I tried not to. I tried not even to think of you in that way.” She sighed. “But I couldn't help it.”
She kissed his eyelids, his cheeks, his neck, and the light touch of her hot mouth raised a flame inside of him. As his breathing began to quicken, he caught her chin in his hand, and finally, finally kissed her lips.
Her kiss was unpracticed but pure, and in it, James felt her love for him, and he poured all of his own. As her lips pressed softly against his, she moaned, and it was the most seductive sound he had ever heard. He swiveled to face her fully on the carriage seat, taking her face in both of his hands, and her lips parted under his to deepen the kiss. He sank into it, returning all her passion, willing her to feel all of the emotion he had bundled up and tried to hide for so long. The kiss intensified and held; his tongue stroked the inside of her lips lightly, and he felt her shiver.
He slid one hand down her back, pulling her whole body to him, and he felt himself hardening as her breasts pressed against his chest. She moaned again as he pressed kisses down her neck and into the hot hollow of her collarbone. She leaned her head back to expose more of her neck to his kiss, and his feeling of need became almost unbearable as he took in the sight of her eager face, her willing form.
He couldn't touch her enough; he couldn't stop kissing her. He kissed every square inch of skin he could see, all over her face and her neck, and the sensitive skin of her inner wrists. She shivered and laughed, and he smiled at her, sending her all his heart in his eyes. He kissed her lips again, and this time she knew exactly what to do. The tip of her tongue stroked his, and she twined her fingers in his hair to deepen their embrace as his arms tightened around her in a thrill of excitement.
Good Lord, he had never felt such pleasure, even as a green boy. He was stunned by the force of it; he wanted more. He kissed and licked his way again down her neck, and she moaned again as his tongue reached the tops of her breasts. With just a little encouragement, he thought he could—he tugged lightly at the low neckline of Julia's gown, and a whole, pearly breast peeked free. Julia drew in her breath sharply as his eyes hungrily took her in, and James was suddenly terrified she would ask him to stop.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked. It killed him to ask, but he asked.
“Never stop,” she whispered, staring him full in the eyes, and the love in her gaze struck him right in the heart.
He bent his mouth to her nipple, warming it first with his breath, and he smiled to himself when she shuddered with pleasure. He gently took the rosy tip into his mouth, licking and nipping lightly. She squealed at first at the unaccustomed sensation, but when he licked again, she relaxed.
“Oh, that's lovely,” she said wonderingly, and this time he met her eyes as he smiled.
“It gets better,” he assured her, then hungrily, his mouth returned to her skin, savoring its silkiness, as he breathed in her scent. Again he drew her nipple into his mouth and flicked it lightly with the tip of his tongue. As it puckered under the caresses of his lips, her breath grew unsteady, and he began to enjoy the effect he was having on her. He focused all of his pent-up love and desire onto that nipple, rolling it between his lips, mouthing it softly, sucking it lightly until she arched in his grasp, gasping.
He continued to lick and suck her dainty skin, enjoying his effect on her. As she moaned, gripping his hair in her hands to hold him ever closer to her body, he was dimly aware of his own desire, that it had never, never been like this before. Never had he felt such joy, such love, such longing.
Suddenly, he awakened to himself. He felt as if he had been dashed with cold water, and a wave of shame washed over him.
He had to stop. He couldn't do this. Not to her, and not to Louisa.
Regretfully, so regretfully, he pulled his mouth away. He averted his gaze as he tugged her gown back into place, though he wanted more than anything to drink in the sight of her skin one last time as he did so.

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