The Officer and the Proper Lady (4 page)

‘The woods are so pretty.' She turned in the other direction, hoping Mr Fordyce would not think her both fidgety and inane—and there he was. Major Carlow leaned against the trunk of a beech tree on the edge of the wood, his eyes steady on her.

Julia turned back, her pulse spiking all over the place, and picked up her cup. ‘Is Lord Ells worth at the picnic?' she enquired, almost at random.
He
is
here,
she thought, realizing how much she had secretly hoped he would be. And she had sensed him, had felt that sultry gaze on her. What did it mean, that she was so aware of him?

‘His lordship is afflicted with the gout. He bit my head off when I brought in his post, then relented and told me he did not want to see my face again until tomorrow and I should go and fritter the day away. I was not, he informed me, to give a thought to him, alone, in pain and having to manage without his secretary.'

‘Thus ensuring you felt thoroughly guilty?' Julia said sympathetically. She had learned that Charles Fordyce was set on a political career and his post with Lord Ells worth was considered to be a useful first step. It sounded a very trying position.

‘I soon learned not to take any notice of his megrims,' Charles said cheer fully. ‘He will be fine once his gout subsides.'

Julia set herself to make conversation. It should be very pleasant in the sunshine, nibbling cinnamon curls and listening to the band. Only, the touch of Hal Carlow's regard did not
leave her and she had to fight the urge to turn round and stare back. Her stomach tightened with nerves, not unpleasantly. She could feel her colour rising and her pulse quickening at the thought of another exchange of words with him. Why was he watching her? Surely not to give her the opportunity to throw any more ill-considered and outrageous remarks at his head?

With the last crumb consumed, Charles Fordyce stood. ‘Shall we stroll down to the lake, Miss Tresilian?'

Julia opened her new parasol and took his arm. It gave her the chance to look up towards the trees, but the lean figure in blue had gone. Had she imagined him?

Julia made herself attend to the man with whom she was walking. He was pleasant, intelligent, cheerful and well-connected and although Mama thought his cur rent circumstances not as comfortable as Mr Smyth's, Julia found him better company. But it was a very cool and calculating matter, this husband-hunting, she decided, thinking of the little rituals, the formal games, the pretences that one was expected to go through on the route to the altar.

What did the men make of it? Or perhaps they did not mind very much, provided their bride brought what they required to the match, whether it was connections, or breeding or money.
Or, in my case,
Julia thought, waving to Mr Smyth and his friend,
none of the first, a touch of the second, none of the third but an unblemished reputation to sweeten the bargain if a gentleman is attracted enough to overlook what was lacking.
Falling in love was out of the question. Respectable couples only did that in novels and a realistic young lady did not think of it.

‘Mr Fordyce!' A lady was gesturing imperiously.

‘Oh lord,' he muttered. ‘Lord Ellsworth's sister, Lady Margery.'

‘You must go and speak to her, of course.' It would not do
for him to antagonise his employer's relative. ‘Look, there is Miss Marriott, feeding the ducks. I will join her.'

‘Bless you. Lady M will want a blow by blow account of the gout and what medicines he is taking.' Charles rolled his eyes and strode off. ‘Ma'am?'

Under foot, something squelched. Julia looked down and saw the ground was marshy. For the first time she realized that Felicity was standing on a low wooden jetty; to join her she would have to go up the slope to the path. She reached the fringe of the wood and rested a hand on a tree to look at her new kid slippers.

‘Botheration!' There were traces of mud along the sides and the ladies' retiring tent with its attendant maids was right across the far side of the site. By the time she got there the moisture could have soaked in, taking the dirt with it.

But she could hardly remove her shoes here, baring her stockinged feet in full view: only the fastest young lady would do such a thing. Julia slipped between the trees and into the wood. It did not take long to be completely out of sight of the open meadow, although the music was still clearly audible. The trees parted onto a sunlit glade with not only a fallen tree to sit upon but soft long grass to wipe her shoes with.

Julia perched on the trunk and untied the ribbons around her ankles, slipped off the shoes and regarded them critically. The water had not soaked through and a careful dab with the grass took off the mud almost entirely. A careful wash with soapwort when she got home and they would be as good as new.

She wriggled her stockinged toes and leaned back, staring up through the leaves to the cloud less sky above. This was perfectly lovely. She must persuade Mama to hire a gig one day and they could bring Phillip for a picnic by the lake.

‘Why, Julia! Tying your garter in public? How very dash
ing of you.' Major Fellowes strolled out of the trees, an almost lurid figure in his scarlet uniform against the fresh greens.

‘I am wiping my shoes,' she said coldly. There was nothing to be afraid of, she told herself. She was only yards from a crowd of people. ‘And a gentleman would leave me in privacy.'

‘Let me tie up your ribbons for you,' he said, his voice suggestively husky. ‘Or untie some others.'

But of course, as he very well knew, she might be within yards of safety but if she ran she was going to burst out of the woods, barefoot and dishevelled—and he had only to let his vivid uniform be glimpsed through the trees for it to appear that she had been involved in a most disreputable tryst.

Julia jammed her feet into the slippers, tying the ribbons with a hasty knot. ‘Go away.' She got to her feet, the fallen tree trunk massive behind her: no escape that way. She began to edge around the glade, but he was faster. With two long strides he had her, his hand fastening around her wrist to jerk her to him. Julia landed with a thump against his very solid chest, the braid and buttons of his uniform imprinting them selves pain fully through spencer, gown and camisole.

‘Now then, stop being difficult—' Fellowes wrapped his left arm around her, imprisoning her as she struggled to lift her free hand.

‘Stop it!' Julia ducked her head to find some bare skin to bite. She wouldn't win, she knew that, he was too big and too strong, but if she could just get him off balance she might have a chance to run.

‘Let her go.' The words dropped into the still air of the clearing like three strokes on a bell.
Hal.

‘Y
ou are developing a bad habit of spoiling my fun, Carlow.' Fellowes did not release her, but against her breast Julia felt his heart beat quicken. He was not as unmoved as his drawl might suggest.

‘I do not think Miss Tresilian shares your idea of
fun.
' Hal was behind her, but she could hear from his voice that he was coming closer. ‘Let her go.'

‘I don't come interfering with your bits of muslin, Carlow, though by all accounts, the town is littered with them. I suggest you leave mine alone and get back to that opera dancer you're chasing.'

‘Oh dear.' Hal sounded vaguely regretful. By tipping her head back Julia could see Fellowes's jaw clench. He was no more fooled by the mild tone than she was. He began to edge back wards, keeping her between himself and the other man.

‘You know,' Hal continued, close now, ‘I was ready to settle this with just your grovelling apology to Miss Tresilian and your word that you would not trouble her again. But now I am going to have to hurt you.' Fellowes went very still. ‘Of
course, if I am to do that, you will have to let Miss Tresilian go and stop skulking behind her like a coward. But perhaps you are that, as well as being no gentleman?'

‘Be damned to you, Carlow.' Fellowes spun Julia round and pushed her towards Hal. For the second time, she landed pain fully against braid, buttons and solid man, but this time it took an effort of will not to cling on for dear life.

‘Miss Tresilian, are you unhurt?'

Except for frogging imprinted all over my bosom,
she thought wildly. ‘Yes, thank you, Major.'

‘If you would care to sit on the fallen tree, ma'am? Just while I deal with this—' He waved a hand towards the other officer.

‘Of course. Thank you.' Julia sup pressed the urge to curtsey—Hal's manner was better suited to the ballroom than to a brawl in a woodland glade—and re treated to the log. ‘You won't kill him, will you?'

‘I would remind you, sir, that duelling between serving officers is for bid den,' Fellowes cut in.

Julia sat down and tried to tug her clothing into order while keeping her eyes riveted on Hal. Fellowes was right. If Hal fought a duel he could be in serious trouble with the military authorities. If he assaulted a fellow officer without the benefit of a duel's formalities and killed him, then things would be even worse.

‘He is a black guard,' she said, controlling the shake in her voice. ‘But Wellington will not thank you for killing any officer of his just now.'

‘Exactly,' Fellowes blustered.

‘Thank you both for your flattering, and quite accurate, assumption that I would best Major Fellowes,' Hal remarked, and despite everything, Julia felt her lips curve at the arrogance in his voice. ‘What would you like me to do with him, Miss Tresilian?'

A well-bred lady should have fainted by now. Or, if conscious, she might say, in a forgiving and dignified manner,
Send him on his way with a warning.
Julia smoothed down her skirt, straightened her bonnet and said, ‘Hit him, please.'

‘With pleasure.' Hal took two long strides, doubled his right fist and hit Major Fellowes squarely on the point of the jaw. The taller man went down on his back, scram bled to his feet and launched himself at Hal, meeting a solid left hook that threw him back against a tree. Hal closed in, hit him in the stomach, took a blow to the side of the head, countered with another left, and Fellowes slid un grace fully to the ground, legs sprawling.

Hal took him by the lapels, hauled him to his feet and gave him a push that sent him staggering out of the clearing. ‘And if I ever find you have been bothering Miss Tresilian again, I really will hurt you.'

He turned back to her, blowing on his grazed knuckles. ‘Are you all right?'

There did not appear to be much breath left in her lungs. Julia collected what little she could find. ‘Yes. Thank you. I feel a little…odd.' He frowned, as he came towards her. ‘He didn't hurt me; I am just not used to violence.'

‘You did say to hit him,' Hal pointed out, not unreasonably. ‘Running him through would have been—'

‘Messier,' she finished faintly, then got a grip on herself. ‘Thank you, Major Carlow. That is the second time you have rescued me from Major Fellowes. You must think I have been encouraging him, but really, I have not.'

‘I know.' He stopped, perhaps six feet from her, and grinned. Her stomach swooped in a most disconcerting manner. Really, the wretched man had far too much charm to be allowed out. As for the effect on her of the way he had dealt with Fellowes—that was too shame fully primitive to contemplate. ‘But I am surprised you didn't give him a lecture
on his morals. It worked with me,' he continued, managing to look penitent.

Julia bit back a gurgle of laughter. It was the shock, it was making her positively hysterical. ‘Indeed, Major Carlow? Are you telling me that you have reformed?'

‘I am working on the gaming, in effectually so far I am afraid, and I am not making much progress with the fighting or the drinking either, but otherwise, yes, I am completely reformed.' He looked convincingly serious.

‘Gaming, fighting, drinking—what does that leave?' Julia asked and then realized: women! Opera dancers. Lady Horton. ‘Oh! Major Carlow, you should not mention such things to me!'
As if he is going to give up womanising because I do not approve!

‘I very care fully did not,' he said, his lips twitching in the way that made her want to smile back. ‘I am afraid you have just revealed a surprising indelicacy of mind, Miss Tresilian.'

‘You—' Julia bit back the words, seeing the wickedness in the blue-grey eyes. ‘I know what you are doing: you are teasing me to take my mind off Fellowes.'

‘Did it work?'

‘Admirably,' she acknowledged. ‘Do I look respectable enough to go back to the meadow?'

‘Yes.' He studied her, frowning. ‘Although one of the flowers in your bonnet has come unpinned. I can fix it well enough for you to get to the retiring tent.'

‘Thank you.' Julia got up and took a step towards him, rather too hastily she realized as her feet tangled in her trailing shoe ties. ‘Ah!' She pitched forward and was neatly caught. Hal did not seem inclined to release her, and she found she had no will to step away either. ‘Major, I have to say that, however magnificent officers' uniforms are, they are not comfortable if one is propelled into them…'

Her voice trailed off. Hal was looking down at her, all the laughter gone from his eyes. And all the blue, too. Stormy grey stared down into her wide gaze and her breath caught up as though in that storm. His hands curled lightly around her upper arms, holding her away from his chest where she had landed, but not so far that she could not see the pulse beating hard in his throat above the rigid neck cloth or the way his lips had parted fraction ally.

He is going to kiss me,
she realized, heart pounding. Her first kiss. She had imagined it would be a chaste and respectful salute by a gentleman who, once they were betrothed, would only commit such an intimacy in the presence of a chaperone.

Only Hal's kisses would not be chaste, or respectful or subject to the dictates of a chaperone. His would be exciting and dangerous and she had no vocabulary to even fantasize about them. But she wanted them. Mouth dry, Julia stared back into the troubled, stormy eyes above her and became very still, waiting.

 

Julia was waiting for him to kiss her. Hal could see it in her wide, trusting eyes, in the softly parted lips, in the way her breathing had become faster as he held her. Had she ever been kissed before? Kissed, as a man like him would kiss her? Of course not. And he wanted to take that first kiss, that first taste of innocence. He wanted to mould her lips with his, to open them and explore with his tongue, plunder the sweet, moist secrets of her mouth. Taste her, teach her his taste. Teach her to know his body and her own.

Wanted? Hell, he
needed
to kiss her, ached to do it. He was iron-hard with arousal as he stood there.

She would let him because, madly, she seemed to trust him, despite his warnings, despite what she must have heard about him. She would let him kiss her, because she had no
idea what it would be like or what fire she would be playing with. She thought kisses were sweetly romantic, that one brush of the lips was all that would be ex changed here.

He stared down at the heart-shaped face, the absurdly determined little chin, the tip-tilted nose, the intelligent eyes, all shadowed by the upturned brim of that fancy new hat. She was his to take. She was all he wanted. And he had no idea why.

Hell, why not?
He had always felt denying temptation was over-rated. He wanted her, she wanted him—and afterwards, he would be cured of this ridiculous desire. Hal swallowed. It wasn't like that with Julia; he couldn't be that calculating, it was wrong…

But if he kissed her, made love to her skilfully so he did not alarm her, if he was careful and made certain she wanted him as much as he wanted her—was that so very wrong?

As though of their own volition, his hands came up to untie the thick silk of the bonnet ribbons, slithering like a warm caress over the backs of his hands. He tossed the hat aside, and her eyes widened so he could see his own reflection in them, but she made no sound of protest, only parted those soft, infinitely tempting lips in a little gasp.

Hal bent his head and skimmed his lips over her temple, feathering the delicate skin with tiny kisses. Julia tipped her head like a cat, and he moved lower, down her cheek, nipping lightly at the earlobe. She caught her breath, and he stopped, waiting for her to accept the different sensation. It was intriguing to discover her untutored responses, to lead with an in experienced partner and not to expect her to reciprocate.

His fingers moved up to cup her head and encountered pins. One by one, he pulled them free and her hair came down, transforming her into the image of a wood nymph in the green glade.

‘Ah yes,' Hal murmured and bent to kiss her. Her mouth
was so sweet, tasting blamelessly of sugar and spice and lemonade. She smelled so fresh, so good, and, when he pulled her to him she came with a yielding that part of his mind, the part that was quite deliberately using all his skill to seduce her, recognized as innocence.

How long was it since he had tasted innocence? He recoiled from the memory of youthful passion, of naïve intentions made to seem impure and wrong. He wanted that purity again, even though all he could bring to it was the soiled expertise of experience.

Under his, her lips softened, parted without resistance when he probed with his tongue, feeling the sensual delight over whelm his lingering scruples.
Ah yes.
Her response was total and trusting; it told him he could move further, and, when he slid one hand to her breast, rubbed his palm against it as if by accident, he felt the nipple peaking, rising for him.

 

Julia could hear her own voice, even though words were beyond her. She had expected Hal to kiss her on the mouth, and he had. But he seemed as fascinated by her throat, her ears, her cheek, her temple…
‘Aah,'
she whispered as his lips found the swell of her breasts above the froth of lace.

She wanted to pull him back to her mouth, which ought to feel safer than these mysterious sensations that were sending shivers down her spine, making her breasts ache, creating that strange sensation in the pit of her stomach and the embarrassing heat where her thighs… She couldn't think about it, only feel.

Julia lifted her hands and ran them into the thick gold-brown hair, tugging gently until he lifted his head, his eyes bright and intent. ‘What do you want?' he asked, his voice husky.

‘I don't know,' she whispered. ‘I want something and I don't know what it is.'

 

‘We will find it,' Hal promised, capturing her mouth again, one hand cupping her breast, the thumb stroking through the flimsy fabric, tormenting the hard nub. It would take very little, he thought hazily, to bring her to the peak, to tip her into ecstasy, to give her pleasure and be satisfied with that himself. But his usual control seemed to be slipping, his breathing was all over the place, and it was an effort not to crush her to him, grind his hips against her yielding body. She smelled so sweet, felt so soft, yielded so passion ately.

He was drowning in her as much as she in him, swept away by emotions he had had not felt in years. He had to have her, he realized, his sophisticated control shattered.

There was fabric and fastenings between him and his goal now. Without lifting his mouth, Hal went to his knees, taking Julia with him, down into the long, soft grass spangled with flowers, their scent as innocent as she was. Then he was stretched above her, his fingers finding their own wicked way around buttons and tapes; she quivered as they brushed her skin.

His booted feet shifted, crushing the lush grass, filling the air around them with the smell of it, bringing with it a swirl of memories and emotions long buried. Confused, Hal opened his eyes. The sunlight through the branches sifted shadows over her spread hair, and he was shaken out of the present, back to another wood, another time—with a girl as innocent and sweetly generous as Julia.

The sup pressed memory surged back: shouting and discovery and a rural idyll exposed as ado les cent desire that had got out of hand.
Whoreson rakehell…
The voices filled his head, stabbed at his conscience, killed his desire.

Hal rolled away from Julia and sat up, raking his hands through his hair, breathing hard through clenched teeth. Damn it, he had learned expertise and with it, control, so
that a whoreson rakehell he might be, but he was a skilful one, utterly in command of himself.
So command yourself now.

‘I am sorry.' He made himself look at Julia as she sat up, her mouth swollen with his kisses, her eyes wide and confused by his assault on her senses and his with drawal. ‘Did I hurt you? I'm as bad as he is. Hell…'