“They are noticeably paler than the rest of you,” she breathed, then chuckled. “…There I go again. I am not hinting that I have been thinking about all of you. I meant your face and neck, the only parts I have seen yet… Oh my, I must stop talking before my tongue gets me into trouble.”
Julian could not help but grin in return. “I do enjoy spending time out of doors. I daresay, my face is sun-kissed and wind-stroked. My hands never see the light of day.”
Her fingers were hot against his skin, hotter than they should be. Despite that, the sensation of her touch on his bare hands was intensely exciting… almost made him feel giddy. Her fingers ran over his, and down the back of his hand to his wrist.
“You have very fine hands. The hands of an artist perhaps?”
Julian almost snatched his hand away. It was too close to a truth that he had shared with no one. There was a locked room at the top of the highest tower of Theydon Mount. No servant was allowed inside. None knew of his secret passion. He frowned.
“You do not know me? Or have ever heard of me?”
“Never. My family only moved here from Chester a few months ago. My father is renting Loughton Grange.”
“I know of it,” Julian replied, “but I thought you hailed from York?”
Emily’s eyes went wide with panic, a reaction she tried to hide by turning her head. She pulled her hands away from his. Julian stared at his own pale hands, regretting the touch he had lost.
“No matter. I will not pry,” he said, gently.
Emily sniffed and did not answer. Julian settled back in his chair, feeling as though a barrier had just been erected between them. He did not understand its source. The mystery around her deepened.
Ester could not bring herself to look at Julian. His presence pulled at her, drawing her like iron to a magnet. She clutched the blankets to keep her hands from seeking his.
That brief touch had made her feel alive in a way that no experience ever had. His skin had been soft and pale, seeming delicate, which was in contrast to the aura of strength that he exuded.
He was a man of contrasts.
Vulnerable,because of the burden he carried, the curse which he believed so fervently in.Strong,by virtue of his remarkable physique. His broad shoulders and chest, arms of steely muscle. She could not help but wonder what experience he had been through to acquire such a body. It was in such contrast to other gentlemen, even those who served the martial profession, that it made her curious. A curiosity she yearned to satiate…
But that was all secondary. For she had just put her family at risk by blurting out the name of the house in which they currently resided and the location of her father’s ancestral home. Knowing that the tenants of Loughton Grange hailed from Chester could very well lead to Julian discovering Ester’s identity and that of her family. Her sacrifice would be in vain in that instance. The crime she had committed against her father, stealing the dowry money that he had assembled for her, would be for naught. Closing her eyes, she tried to put Julian out of her thoughts.
She would not be drawn to him. Would not be attracted to him. Her own body and mind would rebel against such attraction. Forbidding her the intimacy that she so craved from him, summoning memories of her attacker to render her frigid to his touch.
That was all to the good.
She must recover from her illness, show Julian that there was no curse to hold her, and then depart.
She must depart. She must depart... That thought reverberated inside her head as the weariness of fever overcame her.
CHAPTER TEN
Birdsong flowing through an open window brought Julian out of his slumber. His hand tightened on Emily’s and for a moment before opening his eyes, he simply savored the feel of her smooth skin. His fingers stroked the back of her hand. It turned over in his grip and he found himself touching the open palm. Turning his head, his eyes flickered open and he found himself gazing into the depths of hers. She smiled brightly, hair dark with sweat around her brow.
Two things of enormous significance struck him at the same instant. That her skin was cool to the touch, and that he was holding her hand without the protection of his gloves. That was when the memory crashed into his mind. He snatched his hand back involuntarily. Emily sat up, arms visibly shaking.
“My fever is gone,” she began, “I am famished but I think I am on the mend.”
“That cannot be… the curse…”
She shrugged, smiling. “Perhaps the curse is no more. Perhaps its potency has faded with time. Or perhaps it never existed in the first place?”
She added this last part gently, as though wishing to mock his belief in the curse but careful not to offend him.
Julian’s brows drew down. He could not subscribe to her interpretation. The curse had been a reality for him for so long. Samuel’s words came back to him then. Among the last words his brother had spoken to him before his untimely death…
“I have traveled the world, Will. And have never seen anything to make me believe in curses,” Julian murmured, softly. “My brother Samuel told me that when I was a boy.”
“Wise words,” Emily replied.
