Tis the Season to Be Sinful (13 page)
Perhaps now that he was home, that would change?
After promising to say good night before they fell asleep, Juliet left to begin dressing for dinner. She took her time, wanting to appear serene and in control. One minute before the appointed hour she arrived in the dining room. Richard turned as she entered.
She immediately noticed a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice flanked by two crystal flutes resting on the sideboard. Her brow lifted questionably.
“I thought it appropriate to celebrate my return,” he said. “Would you like some champagne?”
“Please.”
He carefully poured the sparkling wine into the pretty goblets and handed her one. “What shall we toast?”
“To us?” she suggested brazenly.
“Why not? We’re the most important people I know.”
Juliet smiled and clicked her glass against his. She took a small sip, then a larger one. The wine was smooth and perfectly chilled. She liked how the bubbles tickled her nose; liked how the delightful coolness of the liquid on her tongue turned into a warm glow as it slid down her throat.
Richard refilled her glass the moment it was empty. “Are you trying to get me tipsy, sir?” He looked so startled by her question she was momentarily embarrassed, but then he suddenly grinned.
“If you drink too much, will you forget my appalling behavior earlier?”
Now it was Juliet’s turn to be surprised. Which behavior? His sensual, bedchamber kisses in the foyer or his abrupt, moody departure?
“You weren’t so very awful.” A corner of her mouth tilted into a smile. “In the interest of fairness, I must warn you that plying me with drink makes no difference. I never forget anything. Whether I’m drunk or otherwise.”
Richard’s brow arched. “Are you often inebriated? Do I need to lock the wine cellar?”
Juliet took another sip of champagne and leaned forward, purposely giving him a clear view down the neckline of her gown. An opportunity that he took full advantage of, judging by the clenching of his jaw. “It wouldn’t matter. I have a copy of all the keys.”
“Locks can be changed.”
“Additional keys can be made.”
They faced off in silence for a long moment and then Richard let out a bark of laughter. Juliet smiled broadly. It was wonderful to see him without his usual mask of cool, business reserve. His eyes were such a deep, intense blue, like the sky as it began darkening before sunset, and when he laughed, they sparkled irresistibly.
They took their places at the table and Juliet was glad she had instructed the servants to seat them cozily together at one end of the long table. The soup course was served and they began eating. But the lighthearted, teasing mood that began the meal so promisingly soon faded as Juliet’s questions and comments were met with brief, sometimes one-word answers.
“Have you had a chance to see the drawing room yet?” she asked. “The one previously decorated with the Egyptian motif?”
“No.”
“I think you’ll like it. I managed to remove all traces of red, replacing it with a subtle shade of green. It makes the room much brighter, more inviting.”
“Good.”
Juliet pressed ahead. “I believe I had swatches of the fabrics I selected for the couches, chairs, and draperies sent to you in London.”
“You did.”
Ah, progress. I have managed to pry two words from his lips instead of one.
Juliet wiped her mouth with her linen napkin, then signaled the footman to fill her goblet with more red wine. She couldn’t remember a time when being polite was so exhausting.
Juliet wiped her mouth with her linen napkin, then signaled the footman to fill her goblet with more red wine. She couldn’t remember a time when being polite was so exhausting.
The next course was set on the table. Medallions of beef in creamed brandy sauce served along with a variety of vegetables. Richard also accepted a glass of red wine, which he drained almost immediately, asking for a second.
Marshaling her wits, Juliet tried again. “Reverend Abernathy came to see me this morning. The church roof is in dire need of repair and I said we would cover the cost. I hope that is all right?”
“Fine.”
Darn it all, back to one word.
She wondered if he was angry. Or worse, disinterested. Or simply not listening. She sipped from her wineglass and watched him over the rim, trying to decide what had brought on this awkwardness. True, this was the first supper they had shared together, yet after so many months apart, wasn’t there anything to talk about?
She wondered if he was angry. Or worse, disinterested. Or simply not listening. She sipped from her wineglass and watched him over the rim, trying to decide what had brought on this awkwardness. True, this was the first supper they had shared together, yet after so many months apart, wasn’t there anything to talk about?
“Christmas will soon be upon us and I’ve decided it would be great fun to shave my head bald and wear my clothing backward until Twelfth night,” she said as she cut her beef. “Will you join me?”
His fork hit the plate with a loud clank.
Hmm, guess he was listening.
Juliet lowered her gaze, suddenly very interested in her peas. She began delicately spearing them one at a time on the individual tines of her fork until they resembled the beads of an abacus.
Hmm, guess he was listening.
Juliet lowered her gaze, suddenly very interested in her peas. She began delicately spearing them one at a time on the individual tines of her fork until they resembled the beads of an abacus.
“I usually dine alone,” he finally said.
Juliet frowned, assuming that was Richard’s explanation for his lack of conversation. While appreciating the clarification, at the same time she found it oddly dissatisfying. She was his
wife
, for goodness’ sake.
wife
, for goodness’ sake.
“Though my behavior this evening might indicate otherwise, I vow that I am not a woman who constantly prattles,” she said. “Honestly, I do not mind a comfortable, companionable silence.”
“Maybe it would be easier if I wrote you a letter,” he replied with a half smile.
She sat back in her chair and examined him. “You enjoyed our correspondence?” she asked hopefully.
“Yes.”
“As did I.” Juliet took another sip of wine and felt herself starting to relax again. “However, now that I have discovered that you were less than forthcoming in those letters, my delight in them has somewhat diminished.” Richard frowned in puzzlement and she emphatically added, “Miss Hardie.”
“I’ll grant she is an unconventional choice for the position.” He poked at the vegetables on his plate with his fork. “But the truth of the matter is that she needed a job and I needed a secretary.”
“It cannot possibly be that simple,” Juliet protested.
“You’re right, it isn’t.”
A footman cleared their dishes and she noted that Richard had eaten everything on the plate except his carrots. She made a mental note to next time have them prepared in a sweet buttery sauce. If he again refused to eat them, she’d know for certain he didn’t care for the vegetable, not the preparation.
When they were alone again, Richard elaborated. “Soon after my arrival in Cornwall, my secretary became ill. As a female, Miss Hardie had not trained for the position, but there were no other possible candidates available to start immediately. Miners do not waste time on education; there were no men with the skills I needed.
“Miss Hardie had been taught to read and write by her aunt. I appreciated her willingness to work for me, though I found out later she was criticized for it by most of the women in town. And then there was the accident.”
Juliet stilled, remembering the details in his letters. “When the mine collapsed?”
Richard nodded, his eyes sharp with emotion. “Twenty miners were killed. Among them were Miss Hardie’s father and three brothers, her only remaining family. With them gone, she had no means of support and, thanks to her prior commitment to me, very little sympathy from her neighbors. I asked her to return to London as my secretary on a temporary basis, but she has proven herself to be such an excellent employee I have awarded her the job for as long as she wants it.”
“You rescued her.” Juliet fingered the crystal stem of her wineglass thoughtfully. “As you rescued me.”
Richard shook his head, shifting uncomfortably on his seat. “The situations are vastly different.”
“Are they?” Juliet frowned, wondering if it was modesty or something else that made him uneasy. “Thank you for telling me the entire story. I shall endeavor to be kinder to her in the future.”
A rich sponge cake topped with blackberry preserves and fresh whipped cream was placed on the table. Richard’s eyes widened appreciatively and Juliet was happy to see his favorable response. She cut him a generous slice, and then studied him beneath her lashes as he took his first bite.
She smiled at the expression of sheer delight that crossed his face, her imagination going wild when she saw a small dollop of whipped cream start to slide down his bottom lip. Reacting purely on instinct, Juliet reached out and caught the creamy droplet on the tip of her index finger, then lifted her hand to her mouth.
Richard grew very still, and she heard his breathing quicken. His eyes traveled slowly from her face to her breasts, then back up again. “Was it good?” he asked.
“Delicious. Just the right amount of sugar, don’t you agree?”
He regarded her with amazement. Unashamed, Juliet smiled. She had always been a passionate woman, and her late husband’s easy acceptance of that had nurtured the sensual side of her personality. It had lain dormant these many years, yet once it had been unleashed on her wedding night all those months ago, it took very little to have her body yearning for Richard’s.
“I need another bite to decide,” he murmured.
Before she could guess his intent, Richard grasped her wrist, ran her finger through the cake, preserves, and cream on his plate, then lifted it to his mouth. Juliet’s eyes widened and her senses tightened. She could feel her insides start to melt as his lips closed around her finger. He sucked the luscious dessert from her fingertip with slow, deliberate relish.
She let out a soft sigh and curved her remaining fingers around his cheek. He flicked his tongue over her palm and she yelped, swallowing back the rest of her excitement as a footman entered the dining room. She tried to pull her hand away, but Richard wouldn’t let her. Not until he saw the footman.
With a tight smile, he pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles, then let go of her hand.
“As I recall, you told me there is still an entire wing that needs to be redecorated,” he said huskily.
Juliet blinked, trying to focus on the question. Her limbs were still tingling, her mind conjuring erotic visions of cake, cream, and naked male strength. How could she possibly focus on the renovations?
“Uhm, yes, several rooms are still under renovation, though I will cease all work in a few days.”
“Is there a problem?”
“No, but I need to begin my holiday preparations and the workmen would be underfoot.”
“What about that horrible bedchamber with the rose wallpaper?” He leaned in close. “I have fond memories of the time I spent in it, but confess to enduring nightmares about the roses.”
“’Tis now a soothing shade of yellow. Very tranquil, actually. I’ve made it my bedchamber.”
He swallowed noticeably, then folded his hands together, resting them on the table. “I’d like to see it. That is, whenever it’s convenient.”
She sat up in her chair and smiled seductively. “How about right now?”
Juliet was gazing at him as though he were as luscious as the decadent cream dessert he had just eaten. It was not a unique experience for Richard to be lusted after by a pretty woman, but this particular female was his wife. A fact that gave this situation an erotic twist he never would have believed if he were not experiencing it at this very moment.
He stood. Dismissing the footman, Richard slowly pulled back Juliet’s chair. He offered his arm and she grasped it lightly. Together they proceeded in silence; up the staircase, down the long hallway, into her rooms.
“Well, what do you think of—”
Richard kissed her. He felt the surprise on her lips for an instant, then she sank into him. Holding her closer, he slowly deepened the kiss, swirling his tongue with hers. The heat that had been stirring in him all during that interminably long meal burst forth with a vengeance.
Groaning with need, he thrust his lower body forward. She made a mewing sound of pleasure and slid her hands around his neck. It felt so good, holding her. The heat of their bodies escalated as the passion throbbed between them. He could hardly wait to get her out of her clothing, to feel her smooth, silky skin press intimately against his burning flesh, to sink himself inside her warm, moist heat and—
damn
!
damn
!
He tore his lips away, sucking in a shaky breath.
“What’s wrong?” she inquired breathlessly.
“I forgot something.” Cursing, Richard spun out of the room, leaving a startled Juliet behind.
He stalked into his bedchamber, going directly to his luggage, and began searching for his shaving kit. His movements were jerky and clumsy; his curses loud when he discovered it had been unpacked. Stomping into the bathing area, he at last found the small leather case.
Shoving the small red velvet envelope in his pocket, he stormed back to Juliet’s bedchamber. She stood exactly where he had left her, her expression slightly dazed.
Lord help him, she was enchanting. Her lips were slightly swollen and glistening, her gown in provocative disarray. Pulse pounding, Richard reached for her.
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