CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Inever thought I would live to enjoy these woods,” Ester murmured soberly.
The pair had left the gardens behind and were treading along a path of bare earth that winded its way among oak, birch, and willow. The air was warm beneath the overarching branches. Birdsong provided a constant background melody over the hushed roar of the branches stirring in the breeze.
“How so?” Julian asked curiously.
“Because of how we came to be here. To escape from scandal. Every morning, I expected to wake up to learn my… past had caught up with my family. As though it were some kind of mythical creature trailing my scent. Slow, but inexorable. Then, when I began receiving Kingsley's demands...”
As they walked, her words faltered, trailing into silence. Her gaze became distant, her expression solemn, lost in thought. Julianslipped his arm about her waist, drawing her gently to his side. His fingertips drifted to the small of her back, a soothing caress, an intimate gesture of comfort and love. She leaned her head against his shoulder with a sigh, reaching behind as she did, and entwining her fingers with his. Julian briefly closed his eyes, feeling the delicate press of her hand, and the faint, intoxicating scent of her hair. Simple pleasures, yet potent as the day they first met.
“We will not talk of him again. He is in the past, and the past cannot hurt you,” Julian’s voice came lowly.
“And you don’t believe he will return?” Ester’s brows furrowed as she glanced up at him. “With more demands?”
“No,” Julian stated, with the finality of a door slamming shut. “And should he dare, I will destroy him.” A flash of cold steel glinted in his eyes. “A couple of weeks ago, Harper furnished me with a list of Kingsley's creditors. With that, I can have him thrown into debtors prison. If I shouldn’t like to see him hang first. And he knows I will not hesitate.”
A shiver ran through Ester then, though it was not from fear, but rather from the dawning realization of the lengths Julian would go to protect her. His quiet resolve, the implacable edge in his voice, left no room for doubt. Yet beneath it all was a fierce love, one that made her feel, for the first time in a very long time, safe and protected.
“And you trust Mr. Harper?” she asked.
Julian contemplated the question. “At arm’s length for the moment,” he finally admitted, “and based on your instincts. Thus far, he has not given me any room for doubt. Gone above and beyond when asked. I think he is striving to redeem himself. Crammond has been keeping a vigilant eye on him, and he shall be watched closely during our stay at Loughton. But I suspect he was simply in thrall to a villain, not one himself.”
Ester nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his words and matching them to her own instincts. She prayed their trust was not misplaced.
In a bid to lift the mood, she turned the conversation, her voice brightening. “There is the loveliest little stream not far from here,” she chimed, “it has lots of shingly little beaches where it bends and the water is as clear as crystal. Ideal for paddling.”
“Paddling?” Julian frowned.
Ester looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “You have never paddled?” she asked with amusement.
“Not that I know of. Perhaps you could instruct me in the…art?”
Ester giggled. “There is nothing to it. Simply remove your shoes and stockings and then dangle your feet in the cool water. Perfect on a warm spring day.”
“Then let us paddle,” Julian replied with a grin.
Ester led the way, off the path and in amongst the trees. They picked their way around the white boles of silver birch and the gnarled and fissured trunks of oaks. Roots made steps to climb and squirrels rustled the branches above their heads or dashed across their path with a flash of red fur and white-tipped tails. Beneath the trees, the sun's warmth seemed to be magnified. Julian found himself sweating and even Ester's auburn hair seemed darker around her temples.
Julian realized that this was an intensely erotic sight to him, with its suggestion of physical exertion. In turn, the idea of Ester in physical exertion led Julian's mind to images of her. Her body naked, writhing atop him, or beneath him. Her face flushed while sweat glistened between her breasts.
Presently, they reached a grassy bank that overhung a busy stream. A sandy beach had formed where the stream turned, becoming shingle where it met the clear water. Trees enclosed the stream entirely, forming a green tunnel through which it flowed. A kingfisher sprung over the water and Julian could see the darting silver shapes of fish in the center of the current.
“This is paradise,” Julian breathed.
“And miles from anywhere. Almost as though it was my private garden,” Ester replied. “Helen does not care for woods and neither does mother. They would prefer croquet or boules on the lawn and piano forte in the drawing room. I think my father would have explored with me but his health no longer allows it. Not especially after I…”
She sounded and appeared distraught at that. Julian put his arms around her and pulled her close again, kissing her.
“That is not your fault,” he told her, knowing her well enough to know that she would be blaming herself.
“Is it not? I could have remained with Mama and Papa or continued dancing, and Kingsley would never have been in a position to...”
“That was his choice and his blame. A woman should be free to walk alone without fear of being accosted. You should not live your life in fear.”
Ester looked up at him, putting her arms about his waist. His body was a solid, reassuring presence against her own. She reached up to run her fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, remembering again his face, flushed with the exertion of lovemaking, taking pleasure from her body as well as receiving it.
“How can sweat be so thrilling,” she asked, playfully.
