The Willful Widow (30 page)
The Willful Widow
by Evelyn Richardson
stirred the dark curls against one bare shoulder, caressing it in such a way that made Justin, his eyes glued to his companion, catch his breath. "How beautiful it is out here and what a relief after the stuffiness of the ballroom." Diana sighed with pure pleasure. "I do hope Aunt Seraphina does not feel abandoned."
"I sincerely doubt it. She and Lord Orpington were so engaged in their discussion of the many ills besetting the East India Company that I suspect they are not even aware of our absence. Besides, someone needed to rescue you from your importunate swains. One more dance and you would have been on the verge of exhaustion."
"Pooh." Diana laughed scornfully. "I am not such a poor creature."
"I know you are not." Justin turned to face her, gently removing her mask. "But do you know, sometimes I have the oddest wish that you were?"
"You do?" Diana's eyes were wide with astonishment. "But why ever would you wish such a thing as that?"
"Because," he reached out a hand to trace the line of her jaw, "then you might have need of someone like me to help you, and you might stop to think of me as often as I think of you." The hand brushed softly across her lips and then tilted her chin. "I find you are rapidly becoming an obsession with me," he murmured against the softness of her mouth, kissing her gently at first and then more deeply as he pulled her into his arms.
At first Diana was too surprised to react. They had been walking along speaking quite casually of the most 279
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unexceptionable things, when all of a sudden something had changed. She had felt it immediately in the way Justin looked at her. There had been an intensity in his expression that had not been there seconds before, and there was an unusual rigidity in his posture, as though he were holding something in it. The air around them felt charged with a certain energy, a sense of expectancy. Still, the kiss had come as a complete shock, for heretofore, there had been nothing in the least flirtatious in St. Clair's manner, and Lord knows, if anyone were skilled at the art of dalliance, it was Justin St. Clair. No, everything had all been very amiable, and then before she knew it, she was in his arms with his lips on hers evoking the most amazing responses in her—feelings she had no idea she possessed.
It was not as though Diana had never been kissed before. To be sure, there had been Ferdie who could be very sweet and appealing at times. After Ferdie, there had been one or two bold fellows who had hoped to offer some substantial consolation to a lovely young widow, but all of these had been the merest brush of flesh against flesh—something perhaps more intimate than a handshake, but certainly no more exciting.
But this, this was different. Diana felt weak and breathless, excited and exhilarated all at the same time. Her lips parted, and she could feel his breath mingle with hers. Justin's hands felt warm on her back as he moved them slowly down her shoulders to her waist. The silk of her costume was so thin, it felt as though they were caressing her bare skin as he pressed her closer to him.
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Before, when Justin had consoled her over Boney's inexplicable melancholy, the strength of his body had been reassuring and, comforted by it, she had rested against him. Now it was quite the opposite, and she wanted to rub languorously against him like a cat. What was wrong with her? Diana felt like the veriest trollop, and worse yet, she suddenly found herself wishing he would lay her down on the soft grass and make violent love to her—she, who had borne Ferdie's perfunctory lovemaking as something one did for one's husband only out of wifely affection and a strong sense of duty.
Unthinking, Diana slid her arms around Justin's neck and pulled his lips firmly down on hers, sighing gently as she did so and melting further into his arms. His hands moved down her waist to her hips leaving a tingling feeling wherever they caressed her, and she pressed against him, reveling in the feel of him, the touch of him, the taste of him. She had no idea how long they stood there wrapped in their own world, oblivious to everything but each other. Nor could she imagine what might have happened next had not a shepherdess come tripping down the path shrieking with laughter and waving a beribboned crook as an importunate young buck tried desperately to catch up with her. They were closely followed by another giggling pair. Brought swiftly back to reality, Diana freed herself and with a shaken laugh turned to make her way back toward the house. "Lady Walden, the others," she began breathlessly,
"they will be wondering what has become of us." 281
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Justin was just reaching for her hand to pull her back when a cheery voice behind them boomed, "Lady Diana, Justin. Are they unmasking, then?" and Tony Washburne, his mask dangling from one ear and waving a bottle, came weaving blearily along the path, the cowl of his monk's robe askew. He grinned sheepishly at them. "There are so many monks in there, m' mother won't know I've gone missing, so I figured I could enjoy myself out here until the unmasking. But if they've already done it, the game is up and I must return. Don't want the mater upset. Sweet lady, but got a fearful temper, you know." He sighed lugubriously, and continued on his erratic way lurching back and forth across the path ahead of them.
The moment had passed and heaving a sigh of relief, Diana retied her mask most firmly into place and began to walk briskly toward the ballroom telling herself that she was glad for the providential appearance of Tony. Behind her, Justin could do nothing but put on his own mask and follow her, grinning ruefully to himself and vowing that the next time he held her in his arms there would be no escape. He had hungered for it too long, and she had felt too perfect there for him to give up now.
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Fortunately for Diana's peace of mind, the rest of the evening passed without incident. By the exertion of pure willpower she was able to last through it, though she was in a daze, not even evincing much interest when it came time to unmask. Fortunately, almost everyone around her was too caught up in it all to notice her preoccupation. However, her niece's unusual state of mind did not escape the sharp eyes of Lady Walden. Observing Diana flushed and breathless after her supposed refreshing walk in the garden and remarking her subsequent air of distraction and the random replies she made to the questions put to her, Seraphina came to her own conclusions and did not press her for comments or conversation as they rode home. As Justin too had appeared rather subdued, the older woman allowed herself to speculate that perhaps something had transpired in the garden. She devoutly hoped that they had at last come to the recognition of their mutual attraction, which she had long wished for.
Alone in her bedchamber at last, Diana undressed herself and lay back against the pillows with a sigh. What precisely
had
come over her to make her behave in such a manner?
Ordinarily she would have divined and forestalled St. Clair's advances, as she had so many others', with a witty remark and a change of subject. Had she wanted his kiss so much then? Recalling their other times together—his helping her dismount from Ajax, reassuring her over Boney's odd 283
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behavior—she was forced to admit, unwilling as she was to do so, that she was attracted to him. It was a lowering thought. Was she just another foolish woman joining the ranks of Justin St. Clair's conquests?
No, a voice inside her cried, this is different. And it
was
different, she told herself fiercely. She was not a coquette like so many who flocked around him. She did not enjoy flirting, nor had she thrown out any lures to him—quite the opposite, in fact. At first she had loathed him. But then as she had come to know him and to appreciate the keen mind behind the flippant remarks, the energy and lively curiosity that were so well hidden under the cynical and world-weary air, she had discovered that, despite his status as one of the ton's most elusive, shocking, and sought after bachelors, there lurked a person very similar to herself, possessed of serious interests who was determined to live a life that was something more than the empty ones surrounding him.
And he, too, had seen something special in her and had sensed their kindred spirits. Diana was certain of it. Surely they could not have spent so many hours immersed in deep conversation if he had not truly felt she had ideas worth listening to. In fact, Justin St. Clair was one of the few people who made Diana feel as though she were actually accomplishing things in her life. Surely it took some mental and spiritual affinity and not some purely physical attraction for such a state of affairs to exist?
She rolled over on one side to stare into the fire that was still flickering in the grate. He had said that he wished her to depend on him. No one in her entire life had ever offered that 284
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to her before. How comforting it sounded! Of course, Justin St. Clair was quick-witted and articulate. He would know the words a woman wished to hear. But when he had spoken them, he had been strangely ill at ease, blurting the words out almost as though they were being forced from him. In a curious way Diana had come to depend on him—not exactly in the way that he wished perhaps, but in a more subtle, intellectual way. If she came across some perplexing issue, she always knew at the back of her mind that he was there to help her think it through. He was more than happy to share knowledge with her from his vast experience, and could offer useful suggestions without making it seem as though he were telling her what to do. And she had quite gotten in the way of enjoying his escort. People leapt to do his bidding with an alacrity that poor Ferdie, or even she, was unable to command. It wasn't as though she truly needed him, of course. She managed quite well by herself and had been doing so for years, but after overcoming her initial resistance to the man, she certainly had been more comfortable and relaxed since she had allowed Justin St. Clair to become such an important part of her life ... until now that was. Now all she could think of was how it felt to have his arms around her and his lips coaxing hers into a response that she blushed to remember. And what was worse, she lay there wondering what it would feel like to have him in bed beside her now pressing her bare skin to his ... Oh, it was too much!
She must stop thinking such things, or she would never be able to face him with equanimity again. However, the most discouraging aspect of all was that she knew such episodes 285
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were so commonplace in Justin's life that he wouldn't give it a second thought, while she could think of nothing else. Most likely he was in Mademoiselle de Charenton's willing arms at this very moment.
Blast! Diana hurled back the bedclothes, grabbed her candlestick, and lit it in the fire. She snatched up a copy of Ovid's
Metamorphosis
and returned to bed with it, determined at least to distract herself, if not study, until she was exhausted enough to fall asleep. It was an unfortunate choice as the ancient gods were an amorous lot, and it seemed as though every other page, someone was chasing after someone else. At long last, however, the lateness of the hour and the unaccustomed emotional turmoil of the evening had its effect, and Diana finally drowsed off into an uneasy slumber.
She was not alone in her insomnia. Contrary to Diana's unhappy conjecture, Justin was not in Mademoiselle de Charenton's arms but recalling their few moments together with just as much fervor and intensity as she was. After dropping the ladies off at Brook Street, he had climbed out of the carriage, instructing the coachman to proceed while he walked home, hoping that the extra exercise and the fresh air would clear his head and tire him out enough to banish disturbing thoughts of Diana. Again and again he pictured her with the white silk fluttering enticingly around her long slim legs, revealing a glimpse of a well-turned ankle, or the golden cords that outlined the swell of her breasts and the gentle curve of her waist. How perfectly she had fit against him, and how soft 286
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and firm she had felt beneath his hands as, all hint of her usual dignified reserve vanished, she had wound her hands in his hair and returned his kisses with such intensity. He had sensed that underneath that cool collected exterior lay a passionate woman. She was too vital a person not to be. He had watched her eyes light up with enthusiasm when she was intrigued by something, he had seen her face flushed with the joy of physical exertion after riding Ajax, he had observed how she and her horse became one as they galloped along or sailed over a hedgerow, and he knew that underneath the calm, self-possessed bearing there was a sensual creature who only needed the proper encouragement to enjoy life to its fullest. Her complete unconsciousness of all this only made her all the more seductive. Yet at the same time, it rendered her terribly vulnerable, and Justin had been torn between the wish to tear off the thin silk of her costume and ravish her and the urge to wrap her tightly in his arms and defend her from all the evil in the world, including salacious fellows like himself.
He had never been so beset by so many conflicting emotions before, and the walk, along with several glasses of port, did absolutely nothing at all to relieve his embattled state of mind. What was he to do? He could think of nothing else but Diana, had thought of nothing else for days even before he had kissed her, and now after having done so, he positively ached for her in a way that he could never quite recall having ached before.
The few times in his life that he had wanted someone desperately, he had been able, if not to have her, at least to 287
