Spanish Lullaby (4 page)

"Force her?” Mary frowned, looking at him, seeing the implacable expression on his face.

"She could be pregnant again. I am not going to let some foppish English fool raise my child.

Consider her engagement over. Please excuse me."

Good heavens ... if Juliet had fallen into his arms—and apparently his bed—again so quickly, maybe her interference was merited after all. Mary fought to keep her feelings of triumph from showing even as she realized her mouth hung open in astonishment from his revelation. She snapped it shut. “Darling, you should probably not..."

It was too late. He was already gone, striding away with purpose down the path...

* * * *

Why had she thought she could walk away from what happened the night before unscathed?

She sent an accusing look at the man standing so still by the window. He looked tall and austere in the warm light pouring through the window. Dark hair framed his aristocratic features and his gaze was steady, those long-lashed dark eyes holding an almost accusatory look.

What the devil was going on?

The duke cleared his throat. “Sit down, Juliet. Something has come to my attention and we need to address the issue."

She adored her uncle and had never disobeyed him in her life, but at the moment, she couldn't move. “I ... I'd prefer to stand, thank you,” she said stiffly.

"My dear child, if you stand, I must stand also, and I would rather sit for this discussion. So, if you please, take a chair."

Put that way, she wasn't given a choice. She chose a wing chair by the fireplace and sank down, self-consciously rubbing her damp palms on her skirt. It took some effort to lift her chin and look neutral but she did her best to summon nothing more than a polite, bland expression.

Carlos ... touching her. His heated kiss, those skillful hands, the erotic foray of his tongue, not
just into her mouth but other places as he seduced her with practiced ease...

Good God, he'd told Uncle Gerald exactly what had happened. She could tell by the duke's chagrined expression, and also by the very faint ghost of a smile on her lover's mouth. The fact he was more devastatingly handsome than any man had a right to be was incidental. Ever since they were children, she'd trusted him. With everything. Secrets, fears, and eventually, love.

No, not so, she'd always loved him. Her feelings had changed, however, from affection to romantic involvement and it should be private.

"I have already sent word to Lord Drake, my dear.” The words were said with heavy intonation.

“Luckily, the severing of your engagement should not raise too many brows because the official announcement has not been in the paper. A hasty marriage to Carlos is a bit unseemly, but then again, war is a tricky thing. Returning soldiers are romantic figures. I expect there will be a few whispers and then the matter will be settled."

"Marry ... Carlos?"

"As I understand it ... er ... you must.” Her uncle had ruddy color in his cheeks, obviously not enjoying the conversation. “Immediately."

"You got pregnant the last time,” Carlos drawled in a cool voice. “You aren't marrying another man with my child inside you."

He knew about the baby, about the miscarriage. And how dare he tell her what to do? She'd tried to tell him to not go to Spain, not risk his life, and he hadn't listened to her.

Juliet looked at him, not bothering to hide her disdain. “I am not one of your soldiers, Carlos, that you can order about. Neither can you just ride away and come back four years later and expect me to fall into your arms as if nothing happened."

He adjusted his cuff in an exaggerated movement and then looked directly at her. “Apparently I can. Last night supports the assumption."

That he was right didn't help anything. She was a fool, and the minute he'd touched her she'd given in to the power of his presence, to the suppressed desire of four long years, to the memory of an ideal that had been shattered and taken from her. She snapped, “You seduced me."

"You allowed it.” His lashes lowered a fraction. “Moreover, you enjoyed it."

A blush climbed through her neck and suffused her cheeks. As they stared at each other, her uncle coughed, making a great business of clearing his throat. He stood up. “I am going to see about making arrangements for a special license. In the meanwhile, I suggest the two of you come to some sort of truce. A successful marriage involves a great deal of compromise. My advice is now would be a good time to start."

He left the study, the sound of the door closing followed by a sizzling silence. Carlos stood there, his usual facile charm not in evidence. The expression on his face instead held something unidentifiable.

"How about it, Jules. Shall we negotiate?"

"This isn't a treaty,” she responded as coolly as possible, her feelings in such turmoil it was hard to know what to say at all.

"No? It seems to me I have a battle on my hands.” He leaned one shoulder against the frame of one of the tall windows and crossed his arms over his broad chest. An ebony brow arched up.

“Now, I've certainly won the first foray because I've got the enemy trapped and almost captured.

It sounds like the latter will happen soon—maybe later today—so I am in a position to grant a few concessions. What are your terms, Jules, for a full surrender?"

The sexual implication of the word brought the memory of how it felt to be beneath him, their bodies intimately joined, bare skin to bare skin as they made love. She had certainly surrendered the night before without so much as a fight and if she were honest with herself, he could probably overcome her resistance just as easily again. And again.

She still loved him, she realized with painful insight. If she didn't, she wouldn't be so angry with him for leaving

While she was admitting a few things, she might as well acknowledge that becoming his wife might be the thing she wanted most in the world.

On the other hand, she didn't have to concede that to him, though she had the feeling he knew anyway.

Juliet lifted her chin. “My first request is obvious enough, Carlos. No more wars. No more leaving, period. If we are blessed with children, I want them to have a father. Agreed?"

"Agreed.” The reply was quick and without equivocation.

"I get to choose their names. I am thinking Bathsheba for a girl and Septimus if it's a boy.” She lowered her lashes a fraction and gave him an innocent look.

He hesitated, and then his lips twitched in amusement as he realized she was teasing. The tight line of his mouth eased. “Fine choices, both of them. Agreed."

"You have a pleasing voice. A lovely song like the one from last night would be nice once in a while."

He inclined his head. “A Spanish lullaby whenever you wish to hear one, my lady. Agreed."

There was a pause. Her throat felt constricted. “I want you to tell me you love me every single day. At least once, maybe more if the occasion warrants it."

The request would have been more effective if her voice hadn't wavered, betraying her emotion.

He straightened away from the wall, the stark reaction in his dark eyes sudden and palpable. “I'll start now."

In two long strides he was across the room and she was swept into his arms, up against his tall body, his mouth hovering over hers. “I love you,” he whispered. “I loved you when I got on that ship, during every cold night, during every miserable day. I loved you when cannons fired around me, when I was hungry, when men lay dying everywhere. I loved you when we lost ground, when we won battles, when we thought it would never end. Juliet, please understand, that never stopped, never faltered, never faded. It saw me through hell and it brought me home."

In answer she wound her arms around his neck and pulled him the fraction closer needed to kiss him, her heart pounding.

In tune with his, the steady thud a reminder he was very much alive and had come back.

To her.

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Lady Wilhelmina Woodhull waved her fan in long, languid sweeps. “Such a brilliant party, my dear Duchess. You have outdone yourself, if I do say."

"It is going rather well,” Mary agreed, her champagne flute dangling from her fingers, her watchful eye gauging the fullness of the buffet table and the efficiency of the staff as they carried trays of drinks around. However, she couldn't help it, her attention was drawn back time and again to the dance floor and a smug smile hovered on her lips.

The celebration was a splendid success, it was true, but her greatest triumph was currently waltzing to a popular tune. Even amidst the milling crowd the couple was striking, Carlos’ height and dark coloring a contrast to his wife's delicate blond beauty. They were both smiling, and as Mary watched, he leaned down and whispered something in Juliet's ear and she laughed.

Dear God, to see them both happy was definitely something to celebrate.

"Are you tearing up on me, your Grace?"

"A bit,” Mary admitted, plucking a handkerchief out of her sleeve to dab her eyes. “I am so delighted to have my son back."

Lady Woodhull shrewdly followed her gaze. “You are not the only one, it seems. They make a dazzling pair. Word has it Lord Drake is a bit put out over losing his perspective bride, but it won't last, I'm sure. When one is handsome, titled and rich, there is no reason to be unhappy for long, now is there?"

"Juliet has always loved Carlos. His absence was very difficult."

"Such a romantic story.” Wilhelmina sighed, still working her fan so small sausage curls moved on either side of her plump face. “The handsome soldier, his true love waiting patiently for his return ... it is like a fairy tale in some ways."

Well, Juliet hadn't exactly waited patiently and like all fairy tales there had been a price to be paid on both sides. Mary had found most things worth having in life were that way.

But, though Wilhelmina was often a silly woman, she was right, it was a romantic story now that it had a happy ending. Unable to resist being a little mischievous, Mary murmured, “He sings to her, you know."

Lady Woodhull's eyes widened with a gleam of interest at that juicy tidbit. “Really?"

"Love songs, I suppose. It is hard to tell for they are in Spanish. When the breeze is just so I can hear him, even though our suite is some distance from theirs. I must say I think he gets that romantic streak from his father's side of the family. My ability to carry a tune is appalling."

Carlos was going to throttle her when the gossip spread over that tidbit, she thought with an inner laugh.

"What a beautiful thing,” Wilhelmina said, a dreamy expression on her face.

Mary watched the couple on the floor, so content in each other's arms. “Isn't it?” she agreed softly.