The Duke Takes a Bride (Entitled Book 2) (10 page)

I
t was a big mistake
.

Extracting his revenge for being such a busybody and flirting with that young pup, Julian had ordered Imogen to give him a sponge bath when his fever spiked again. She paled. Julian wanted to call it off, but she left the room before he could. She came marching in minutes later carrying a tray with a basin and towels. Her chin jutted like the prow of a ship slicing through rough seas.

Julian had sudden misgivings.

He saw her glance about, looking for a place to deposit her burden. His night table was a mess of books and papers. She knelt beside the bed and decided the floor was as good a place as any. She rose, placed a knee on the bed, and leaned down. The mattress dipped and the covers were flung off him unceremoniously, baring him from the waist up.

He opened his mouth to protest at her very poor bedside manners but changed his mind when he saw the determined set of her jaw. He jerked at the first touch of the wet cloth against his forehead. It was quickly followed by a dry one, wiping off the cool moisture. She then proceeded to his neck. Wet cloth, then the dry cloth, and so on and so forth. It was supposed to be very soothing, but Julian caught her familiar, clean shampoo scent, and all his muscles tightened.

“Where did you learn to do this?” he gritted out when her fingers brushed his skin accidentally.

Her movements were sure and economical, her touch impersonal. There was a flash of pain that shadowed her eyes. “My father.”

Hell.
He’d hurt her inadvertently with this stupid game. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for the funeral.” Julian was unsure how his presence would be received, so he had stayed away.

She paused and looked at him in the eye. “It’s alright. It was expected.”

“But it hurt nonetheless. John was a good man and father.” Emotionally available even if somewhat distracted. He always had a story or two for Julian when he came to visit.

“Je ne regriette rien.”

I regret nothing,
Julian translated mentally.

“That’s what Dad always liked to say.” Her countenance was wistful. “When he went into remission, we went on road trips and did things he had always wanted to do. He died with a smile on his lips. Said he couldn’t wait to be with Mum again.”

Julian felt something in his chest tighten at the love Imogen felt for her father.

As if regretting the intimacy, her manner became brisk. “Arms above your head, Your Grace.”

“What...?”

She took his wrist, extended an arm up, then flattened it against an ear. “Do you want to feel better?” He grunted in grudging assent. “The other arm please.”

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” he needled, to distract him from how her bossy manner was turning him on.

She merely lifted an eyebrow and Julian complied, both hands now touching the headboard. “We have to target the parts of the body that has the most superficial blood vessels to rapidly cool you down.”

Spread eagled, Julian was completely at her mercy. And his body was burning for an altogether different reason. This close, he could look down the V-neck of her ratty shirt and glimpse the white mounds of her breasts, which seemed to be fuller than when she had first arrived. She bent deeper and closer, and Julian had to clench his hands to stop himself from cupping them, feeling their hefty weight, plumping them and taking her nipples into his mouth−

“Aarggh!” The feel of the wet cloth on his armpit doused his lustful thoughts.

“Please be still,” she warned sternly, but Julian spied her biting her lip as she turned away to dip the cloth again in the basin.

She was enjoying this! Enjoying making him feel uncomfortable. She turned towards him again, stood up, and bent across his chest to access his other armpit, dangling her breasts precariously close to his bare pectorals. Julian’s breathing seized. If he inhaled deeply, his chest would be grazing her breasts. To his horror, he felt his cock stirring. He was getting warmer and feared he would combust in flames. He exhaled as she resumed her position on the side of his bed, but it was too soon. Imogen grabbed the edge of the blanket that was covering his nether regions and before she could flip it, Julian had grasped her wrist.

“Enough,” he said roughly.

Her eyes locked with his. “I have to sponge your groin.”

His groin. Fuck.
“No.” He ground out desperately.

“But your temperature won’t go down if I don’t.”

Christ! Did he have to spell it out for her?

“There’s another thing that’s gone up, Imogen, and it’s not my temperature.”

“What−” Her eyes flicked to follow his meaning. “Oh. Oh!” Blushing, she jerked up, gathered her things, and beat a quick exit. “If you need anything,” she said, not meeting his eye, “just call my mobile.”

She awkwardly opened the door with one hand, the other holding the tray, and scampered out of the room.

Julian doubted that Imogen would be willing to address his need, which was standing at rapt attention at this point.

H
er heart was still pounding
like a kettle drum when Imogen went to the kitchen to unload her burden. She drank a glass of water with an unsteady hand. Julian’s bodily response was purely involuntary and had nothing to do with her in particular. Men were easily aroused, weren’t they?

With his hands high above his head and the blanket riding low on his hips, Julian looked like a Rodin sculpture. She wanted to be Alice and be lost in his body’s wonderland.

She went to the living room to change Clark’s water. She wondered whether dumping the water in the fish tank on her head could cool her off and return her to her senses. She doubted Clark would approve.

The next day, Julian’s temperature had gone down but it still wasn’t back to normal. Lukas stopped by to visit. He brought burgers from a fast food take-out joint. Imogen didn’t accompany the doctor to Julian’s room, but he heard the rumble of deep male voices as Lukas had left the door to the bedroom open.

After about fifteen minutes, Lukas joined her in the kitchen where she had spread the high-salt, high-fat bounty on the informal table. She deserved it after putting up with an irritable patient.

Imogen bit into the juicy meat and groaned, “So good.”

Lukas grinned. “His Grace turned it down when I offered him some. Not up to his usual gourmand tastes.”

Imogen shrugged.“His loss. Our gain.”

But she knew Julian refusing the fast food take-out was due to his loss of appetite rather than any food snobbishness on his part. He had also refused the food from the fine dining restaurant below, opting to drink only the clear soup broths at her insistence.

She had also denied him access to his laptop and confiscated his mobile phone, relenting to allow him a few minutes when an SMS came in. However, the messages came in so often that Imogen had to schedule his phone access every 8 hours only or he would never get any sleep. As a result, he was surly and uncommunicative.

Imogen and Lukas ate their meal in friendly banter. Imogen found out that Lukas was the youngest member of the board and General Partner in Creatus Ventures, a capital investment firm Julian had established several years ago after resurfacing from his “lost years.” They also had offices in Hong Kong and London. With his background in banking and finance, Julian was the liaison between the investors and the start-up companies looking for seed money. As a result, he often had to travel a lot.

“Julian has the Midas touch,” Lukas explained after taking a sip of his soda. “They call it the Walkden Touch. Everything he invests in turns in huge profits. It’s unfair, really. Not only does he have all the women running after him, now every budding entrepreneur is also after him, too.” Then Lukas gave her an odd look. “You and Julian…” he didn’t finish, but Imogen knew the direction his thoughts had taken.

Imogen felt the burger congeal in her stomach. “Oh, no! God, no,” she denied emphatically. “I’m just a family friend.” She must have been too emphatic because she saw the speculative way he suddenly regarded her.

Her mobile rang. It was Maggie, wanting to find out how her brother was. Imogen had sent her an SMS about Julian getting the flu. She reassured her that he was doing fine and that a doctor was looking in on him everyday. Maggie was due to come home in a few days. Imogen felt glad that she would get to see her best friend soon.

Lukas bid her goodbye and promised to come back the next day but before he left, he pulled something out of his recycled, rubber tire bag. “I thought you might want to read it. I saw it on the newsstand on my way here.”

It was a tabloid magazine. On the front page, on the bottom right hand corner, was a photo of her and Julian taken at the Sta. Monica beach. The wind was blowing Julian’s golden mane and he looked elegant and casual, a male in his prime. It had been taken while they were engaged in conversation, and thankfully her back was to the camera.

The caption read: Delicious Duke Spends Day with Mystery Woman at the Beach. It was filled with speculation as to her identity, ending with the delightful observation that the “mystery woman” was contrary to the usual long-limbed, long-tressed, actresses/models the duke squired when he was in town. If anything was guaranteed to make her regret her fast food binge, it was being compared to Julian’s sexy women when she wasn’t even his. Just a few days of recovery and she was already filling out her clothes, back to being her dumpy self.

She looked in on her patient, and satisfied that he was sleeping soundly, went to her own room and crashed for the night.

I
mogen made
her way to the kitchen to fix breakfast. Julian’s fever broke yesterday so she was able catch up on her sleep. Lukas, however, warned him to stay at home for two more days to make sure he didn’t relapse. This was received unfavorably by the patient, who grumbled and sulked like a little boy.

“I’m hungry.” A blond, tousled head shot up suddenly from behind the open refrigerator door.

Imogen let out a little shriek of fright. A good night’s rest made her mind a bit sluggish, so she hadn’t noticed he was already in the kitchen. She clutched her chest, her heart still racing. “What are you doing out of bed?”

He slammed the refrigerator door closed. Imogen’s heart, which was slowly returning to its normal beat, kicked up once more.

Julian was bare-chested, again, but thank goodness was wearing linen drawstring pants slung
very
low on his hips. Imogen cursed his propensity for removing his shirt at every opportunity. She remembered seeing photos of him when he was younger, on a motorbike, shirtless, in Seirenada. The press should have dubbed him the Exhibitionist Duke instead.

“I feel fine.” He did look better. His green eyes were clearer, his hair damp from the shower, plus he had shaved. Imogen was going to miss that scruff.

“That was a quick recovery.”

“As my stepmother would tell you, much to her continuing disappointment, I have the constitution of an ox.” He turned away from her, strode to a hanging shelf at the corner of the kitchen, and started rummaging through the boxes. Imogen was mesmerized by the way his back and arm muscles bunched and flexed. She wrenched her gaze away from the thing of beauty that was his tight ass as he whirled around, brandishing a box of cornflakes.

“We’ve depleted Mrs. Nero’s supply of frozen food, I’m afraid.” She hoped to God she wasn’t blushing. “We can order downstairs.”

“It will take too long. I’m starving.”

“I can make you a sandwich. I didn’t have time to run to the grocery so we don’t have much in stock in the pantry.”

Imogen approached the ref. “Just sit there,” she motioned, shooing him to the kitchen island so she could access the cold ham, uncrossing her arms and forgetting that she had been using them to shield her breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her cotton shirt was thin and worn out. She saw Julian’s eyes flick to them before he sauntered away and sat behind the table as she instructed. She opened the refrigerator hurriedly and used the door as a shield from his heavy-lidded gaze. Unfortunately, the lettuce was in the crisper at the bottom and she had to bend over, providing Julian a front row view of her butt.

Julian groaned mentally. First her tits and now her arse.

In the pink of health, Imogen Adams-Chudley looked liked the innocent girl next door, except her full, pert breasts and tight little butt was not inspiring innocent thoughts in Julian. He had to get himself under control. He couldn’t just pounce on her...

Imogen was perfect to be his wife. She was kind-hearted, compassionate, and caring. Their families had known each other for years. And most importantly, she appreciated the history of Trennery Court.

She was attracted to him. Julian knew it beyond a doubt. They had chemistry and things in common, like their passion for art and history. He wouldn’t delude her with talk of love but of a good, solid partnership. His instincts told him she would be a good mother to their children.

But she was skittish around him. And rightly so. With the way he had acted that night years ago, he couldn’t blame her. He would show her respect and not seduce her into saying yes. He owed her that.

He had been derailed by his flu but now he was back on track.
Hell
. He just told her he had the constitution of an ox. What if she decided he was well enough to be left on his own?

“Mrs. Nero’s still sick?” he fished casually.

“Yes, poor thing,” she answered, her back to him as she slapped the things needed for his sandwich on the kitchen counter. “I call her every day to see how she’s doing.”

“So she won’t be back for a couple of days?”

She did a quarter turn, licked her fingers covered in yellow goo, and spoke over her shoulder. “I think the flu hit her rather hard. She doesn’t have a fever anymore, but she still feels very weak.”

Mustard.
That’s what she had been licking. “I’ll need a temporary housekeeper then.” He flung the hook and hoped the bait would bite. “Just to tidy things up around here, see to my laundry, my food…”

He saw her shoulders stiffen for a few seconds before she resumed assembling his sandwich. “I can stay here for awhile until Mrs. Nero’s back.”

Julian kept his tone neutral. “Are you sure? Won’t your aunt be expecting you? I’ve delayed you long enough.”

She turned around and walked to the island counter, depositing his sandwich. Julian tried very hard to keep his gaze above her neck.

“It’s just a few days. She won’t mind.” She walked back to the refrigerator, got a bottle of orange juice, went back to the island counter, and poured him a glass. “And besides, it’s the least I can do after what you did for me…”

“I don’t want you to feel obliged to stay longer than necessary.”
Liar.

“It’s not any obligation at all.” She slid onto the stool across him and poured herself a glass of juice. “Besides, it would be good to see Maggie again before I leave for Kansas.”

He almost choked on his sandwich. “Maggie’s coming home?”

He didn’t want Maggie to be around when he proposed the arrangement to Imogen. Maggie was a wild card. He didn’t know how she would react to his plan, but one thing was definite, Maggie would have an opinion and she wouldn’t be quiet about it. Now he had no choice but to work fast.

“I talked to her yesterday. She said she wasn’t sure what day exactly she would be able to fly out. She mentioned some red tape about transporting some artifacts to Beijing.”

“I’ll give her a call after I’m done here.” He would ferret out his sister’s itinerary. “Aren’t you going to have some?” He waved the half-eaten sandwich floppily in her direction.

She shook her head, then stood again. “Just some toast and tea for me this morning.” She grabbed the cereal box off the island counter. She had to make several jumps to slot it in place on the hanging shelf.

“You need to eat. I don’t want you suffering a relapse from taking care of me.”

“I ate an enormous burger and chips last night and the calories went directly to my hips.”

With a statement like that, Julian couldn’t be expected to look anywhere else. Her softly rounded hips were delineated by worn cotton shorts and they showed off her smooth, short, pale legs. His tastes ran to women with endless legs and well-endowed chests, but there was something about Imogen’s petite curviness that was a turn-on. He could easily swoop her up in one motion, have her on the kitchen counter, her legs splayed wide in no time-

“Those calories have a good sense of direction,” he murmured, shaking off that image.

Her face was in profile as she placed a slice of bread in the toaster, but Julian witnessed the flush of pink that bloomed from her neck then up to her cheeks.

“I was wondering if I could make a grocery run to re-stock the pantry.” She avoided his gaze.

“Jenkins can drive us.”

“No,” she protested, a tad too sharp. “You need to rest. I can handle it.”

Julian wanted her tense and very much aware of him, but he decided to be magnanimous and give her just a bit of time to regroup. With Maggie’s imminent return, all bets were off.

I
mogen was calling
on all of what was left of her sense of self-preservation. She hoped it was enough to sustain her for a few more days until she could be out of Julian’s life for good. She pushed the loaded grocery cart with dogged determination. If only it was just as easy to push her feelings for him out of the way.

She had convinced herself that what she felt for Julian was just infatuation, a hangover from her younger years spent in Trennery Court. But the truth of the matter was she was as much in love with him then as she was with him now. She didn’t need to analyze it or beat it to death. For her, it had always been Julian.

And it filled her with despair.

She had never fully recovered from that single, most wonderful and terrible night of her life. It filled her with regret. What if she had stayed? If they had that talk after? Would it have eased the hurt she had felt by his reaction to her virginity? What if, and this gave her a lot of sleepless nights, he confessed that he was really in love with Princess Lexie and she had just provided him a bit of distraction?

What had they been thinking? Or rather why had they stopped thinking that night? Virgin plus one night hookup equaled complicated mess. Add sister’s best friend to the mix plus his engagement, and it was a recipe for disaster.

And it had been a beautiful disaster.

For that one night, Julian had wanted her. He didn’t look at her with the kind and distant expression he always bestowed on her as Maggie’s friend. That night he looked at her with desire. It was heady. It went to her head and to her heart.

Imogen shook her head to clear it. Her heart, now that needed more than a little shaking. It needed to be beaten into submission.

She had been standing in front of the milk carton shelves for probably a lot longer than was needed to decide which brand to buy. The merchandiser was giving her furtive side glances. She grabbed whatever was eye level and dumped it in the cart.

Now that his engagement had been broken, it hadn’t really changed anything except put Imogen in grave danger. Thinking that Julian was still attracted to her, flirting with her – it was all wishful thinking on her part. He was a healthy, red-blooded male in his prime. She was female and thrust into his company for long periods of time, ergo there would be some tension between two people forced to live in proximity to each other.

Porky, four-eyed nobody.

The words echoed, slapping some sense into her. Julian could have his pick of the most beautiful and sophisticated women in the world. Why would he settle for somebody like her?

The sooner she was out of his house, the sooner she could begin her life anew.