The Viscount's Rose (The Farthingale Series Book 5) (12 page)

Rose put her hands to her cheeks as they began to flame. “It can’t possibly work.”

Nicola was now smirking at her. “You’ll never know unless you try… Lorelei.”

“This is madness.” But she snatched the nightgown out of Nicola’s hands with a groan and then turned to face away from her. He had kissed her. Did that mean he would kiss her again? “Help me out of my clothes. And stop calling me Lorelei.”

She knew this latest scheme could only end in disaster for her. What if Julian laughed at her? Or was revolted by her? Or found her woefully lacking? “I shall never forgive you for talking me into this… this… enormous mistake.”

Nicola helped her out of her gown. “You’ll love me forever and finally admit that I’m as brilliant as your bluestocking sister. Well, almost as brilliant as Lily.”

Once undressed, Rose slipped the flimsy sheath over her head and then took a deep breath. She was about to admit defeat and beg out when Nicola began to pull the pins out of her hair. She attempted to resist, but to no avail. “Nicola! What are you doing?”

“You can’t leave your hair in a prim bun—it will ruin the effect. You must look like a siren, and everyone knows they have long, flowing tresses. You won’t intrigue anyone, certainly not my brother, with your hair coiled tight and your lips pursed in that sour expression. Stop scowling at me and shake your head so that your hair looks tousled as it cascades down your back.”

“I will not.” She turned to the mirror and began to braid her hair.

Nicola stopped her. “Don’t you dare. Leave it alone and get down to the business of seducing my brother. We’re crafting a moment here. You as an artist ought to understand the nuances of setting a mood, conveying a story. Your story is that you were preparing for bed and developed a sudden thirst for milk. You only meant to sneak downstairs to fetch a glass for yourself. Got it?”

Rose nodded halfheartedly, silently kicking herself for even considering this ridiculous scheme. But if she didn’t do it, then Julian would leave and forever be trapped by the awful countess. “What if he’s ensconced himself in your uncle’s library with the door closed?”

“Are you being purposely dense, Rolf?” She sighed. “Then your story changes. You’ll steal into the library to retrieve a book to read in bed and be startled to find my brother there. Give me a believable look of surprise.”

Rose shot her another scowl.

“Excellent. You care for him, don’t you? I know that you do. Now get to work and do what you must to keep my brother here another day.”

“It isn’t work so much as folly,” she muttered and hurried downstairs before she lost her courage. In truth, she wasn’t a coward, but their ploy was doomed to failure. Julian was still outside on the terrace with his aunt and uncle. Pretending to go to the kitchen to fetch a glass of milk for herself would not work. He couldn’t see her tiptoeing down the hall unless he had the ability to see through brick walls.

“The library it is,” she muttered, although chances were slim he’d notice her in there either unless he happened to turn at just the right moment and catch a glimpse of the flimsy white fabric against the bookshelves. Even so, he’d have to be curious enough to leave the terrace and come into the library to investigate. The odds were against that happening.

In truth, she was relieved. Deceiving him felt terribly wrong. She and Nicola would simply have to catch him in the early morning and tell him the earl wasn’t feeling well. That was a much better plan. Still terribly wrong and deceptive, but it didn’t feel quite as bad because it was the earl who was pretending to be ill and not her. Failing that, they could use that made-up story about poachers.

However, she entered the library and decided to select a book for herself before she skittered off to bed. A lone sliver of moonlight shone in from the window so she used it as her light to read the spines of the books that were faintly illuminated by the moon’s glow. She dared not use a candle, for it would gleam too brightly and attract Julian’s attention. Despite Nicola’s entreaty, she was sorry she’d listened and come downstairs in her bedclothes. It was improper and ridiculous.

Having finally come to her senses and determined to retreat upstairs before anyone noticed her, she withdrew a large volume with an ornate, embossed red cover. “Oh, this looks interesting. Florentine art.”

“My favorite,” someone said with a throaty chuckle from behind her.

Julian. But how?

She licked her lips and willed her heart to stop leaping about like a startled frog. “Yes… er… the Italians are masters of the arts. Florentines, Venetians, Romans. Their paintings and statues are quite magnificent. I’m intrigued by their ability to create the most vivid colors that survived centuries of sunlight and wear. The Egyptians are also masters of color. Did you know…”

Her voice trailed off as he unfolded his crossed arms and moved toward her with purposeful grace, his strides long and slow, his approach like a lion who’d cornered his prey and was now merely savoring the game. Little did he realize that he was the prey being cut off from his herd and she was the bait to lure him away.
Crumpets!
His gaze never left hers as he held her in his thrall.

She felt trapped, but in a magical, transporting way, as though he were a powerful wizard who’d cast a spell on her. She licked her lips again, and finally tore her gaze away to awkwardly open the book and begin to fumble through it. Actually reading it was impossible for there wasn’t enough light and even if there were, her thoughts were in too much of a muddle to make sense of the words.

Whatever had possessed her to choose such a big, ungainly book? The dratted thing was as heavy as an anvil, but she wasn’t about to set it down. How could she when it served as the only barrier between her and Julian? “Haven’t you ever… um, wondered how those colors remain true… er, even after thousands of years? I’ve… um, learned that they mixed their paints with egg and—”

His hand gently fell on hers to stop her prattling. “You shouldn’t be down here dressed like that.”

“Well… heh, heh… oh, ha, ha…” She tried to give him a sultry look, but by his unchanging expression she knew she’d failed. “I didn’t think anyone would notice.” Her stomach began to churn. “Warm night. Hoped for a quick dash into the library and quicker hop back upstairs.”

“Where’s your dressing gown?”

She swallowed hard and tried to tear her gaze from his devastatingly appealing green eyes. “Oh, ha, ha… funny thing. I, er… um,… couldn’t, well. I don’t have it on.”

He arched an eyebrow. “I noticed.”

“You did?” She stifled the
eep
threatening the leap from her throat. Seduction wasn’t as easy as Nicola had led her to believe. “I couldn’t find it.” Not quite a lie, although she couldn’t find her dressing gown because she hadn’t bothered to look for it. And why should she? She knew exactly where it was. “And you may ask, why didn’t I simply borrow Nicola’s?”

He stood silent, his eyebrow still arched.

“Well, I didn’t think it was necessary. You were on the terrace with your aunt and uncle, and who knew you had the finely tuned senses of a bat? How did you know I was in here? Are you following me?” She pretended to take offense. “If it’s another kiss you’re after,” she said with a sniff, tipping her chin upward in feigned indignation, “you won’t get it.” Yes, toss him the challenge. What else could she do? Her seductive glances weren’t working.

Quite the opposite, he looked as though he wanted to explode with laughter each time she tossed him a come-hither look. She had no idea being sultry was so difficult.

“A kiss?” He edged closer, their lips achingly close because she’d made the tactical blunder of looking up at him. “It hadn’t crossed my mind.”

Of course not. Why would he want to kiss her again? He’d tried her out and found her lacking. She found him magnificent in every way and still couldn’t take her gaze off him. “As I was saying… oh, ha, ha… fascinating discovery… the ancients mixed egg and—”

He reached out to brush a stray curl off her forehead, the gesture stopping her heart as well as her tongue. “Your hair’s longer than I realized, and a deep gold, even in the moonlight.”

Her hair was the bane of her existence, long and quite unruly because of the thick curls that fell in a springy riot to her hips. “I ought to have braided it, I know. I shall when I return to my bedchamber.” She held the book tightly against her chest for protection, not against him but against her wayward heart. Thankfully, it was beating again, but rampantly and haphazardly. “Which I ought to do right now.”

But she couldn’t move. She was still rapt in the spell he didn’t realize he held over her. His expression hadn’t changed, but she felt a delicious danger in the way he continued to look at her. As for herself, she’d gone through possibly a thousand changes in her expression during this long, uncomfortable moment. Drat, he had a molten way of looking at her that set off little explosions of heat throughout her body.

She took a deep breath to calm herself.

And another… and another.

As she did so, one sleeve slipped off her shoulder leaving it bare.
Eep!
She shifted the heavy book into one hand and grabbed her sleeve with the other, but Julian let out a low, hungry growl and reached out at the same time to slip the errant fabric back over her shoulder. Their hands met, fingers entwining.

She quickly drew hers away. His remained resting lightly on her bare shoulder. “Rose,” he said in an agonized whisper, making no move to draw away.

He stroked his thumb along her bare skin.

She closed her eyes and took another deep breath to still her thunderously pounding heart. Was this really happening? She wanted to remember everything about this moment—the coolness of the night air, the sweet fragrance of medieval roses drifting in on the light breeze, the scent of books and polished bookshelves. The clean, rugged scent of Julian and the taste of port on his lips as he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her with a hot intensity she’d treasure always.

He eased the book she was desperately clutching out of her grasp. “No barriers between us, Rose. Not ever.” She heard a soft thud and felt a small vibration when the ungainly thing landed on the carpet beside them.

“No barriers,” she repeated in a squeaky whisper as his fingers slid under the delicate fabric, slipping it lower to cup her breast.
Hot crumpets with clotted cream and strawberries piled high!

His palm felt warm and perfect against her flesh.

He drew her closer, one arm now around her waist and the other gently kneading the exposed mound. Then his mouth was no longer on hers but moving lower, his lips and tongue working magic on her throat, and nipping lightly at her shoulder, and…
ooh, oh… oh!
His lips closed over her nipple and he began to suckle and tease it into a hard bud with his tongue. Was she seducing him? Because it felt quite the other way around. She was ready to surrender everything to him.

A fiery heat built up within her and every part of her body began to throb with excitement. She wanted to touch him in the same way and wanted him to ease the pressure building up inside of her. “Julian.” She called his name in breathless wonder, winding her hands in his hair and arching her back to take in every hot sensation.

She wanted it all, but didn’t know what it was she wanted.

He knew and she suddenly felt cool air against her legs as he slid her nightgown upward to expose her legs to his touch.

She gasped and clutched his shoulders, her senses heightened and body eager to be consumed by his touch.

His hand immediately stilled between her legs. He lifted his mouth off her breast. “Hell, Rose.” He sounded tortured and in deep agony. “I’m… this is why I have to leave. I can’t resist you, but I must. I’ll only hurt you.”

“You’d never hurt me. You were gentle with me. Wonderful.”

He moaned as though she’d cut him with a knife. “This can’t be. Not now, at this worst possible moment.” He slipped the bodice back into place to cover her breast and smoothed the rest of the fabric down over her legs, trying in vain to put her back in order. But there was nothing orderly about her desire for this man. “I had better leave tonight. Right now.”

“No!” This wasn’t a ploy. She truly despaired of losing him, and she would lose him forever if she let him go now. This idiotic seduction scheme was having an unintended effect, making him want to run as fast as he could from her instead of keeping him here longer. She had to tell him how she felt. Enough of those silly feminine wiles that she didn’t understand how to use in the first place.

“Please, Julian.” Her breath was now ragged and she sounded desperate to her own ears. “Please give us one more day together. Just one. If this is all I’m to have of you, then grant me this one request.” She felt tears well in her eyes and she blinked to fight them back. Her heart was breaking but she didn’t want him to know it, for she didn’t quite understand this intensity of feeling she held for the man.

Tears began to slide down her cheeks. Perfect, now he was sure to run as fast as he could from here… from her.

She started to turn away, but he took her gently by the shoulders and held her in a way that forced her to face him. “I’m so sorry, Rose.” He drew her into his arms. “I never meant to hurt you. I hope you know that.”

She nodded against his chest and sniffled. “I know.”

He sighed. “But I did hurt you badly. You’re crying.”

She nodded again. “I’m trying not to. It isn’t your fault that I like you and don’t want you to leave. Everything feels right when I’m with you, but you must have that effect on all young ladies because you’re so handsome and smart, but most of all you’re kind and decent.”

“I’m not. I’ve taken unpardonable advantage of you.”

“And I’ve encouraged you.”

“You’re innocent and trusting, which makes what I just did to you all the more despicable.” She felt his knuckles graze against her cheek in a caress and then he began to stroke her hair, winding his fingers in her long strands.

“Please stay, Julian. All I ask is for one more day.”

He shook his head and groaned. She thought he was about to pull away, but he must have changed his mind, for he drew her more firmly against his chest and held her in his arms for a long and splendid moment. “This is a mistake, but… very well. No one’s expecting me back in London yet.”