He clamped both hands on her wrists. Perhaps too tight. “It is no concern to me what you want. You will be cherished and most importantly…protected.”
Footsteps echoed down the hall. They stood like characters caught in an artist’s mural rooted in the moonlight’s dreamlike haze; time spinning by on flying wings. He had a sudden keen awareness of her lavender scent mixed with the woodsy smell of pine logs. And from the window, he felt the gentle breeze caress his face. It was as if they stood alone in the palm of the world, as if the beauty of the night existed only for them.
The world closed in on him, and he realized it was because he still held her wrists, his thumb moving in lazy circles across her skin. Outside a cloud passed, making a giant blur of the moon, like a distant lantern seen through threadbare curtains. The cloud was moving slightly to the northwest, and would soon disappear. She leaned into him, but he held her at a distance.
What a world of anguish and longing he saw in the glistening blue depths of her eyes. He thought of the slight melodious quality of her voice. He thought of her pealing laughter when she had pushed him in the river. He thought of her slim white thighs and pert breasts upon him, and the delightful moans when he had carried her to pleasure.
“It galls me how you can stand pious enough to make the decision for the both of us.” She glared at him. “Why did you tell that soldier to keep quiet? Who is he? What are you hiding?”
He dropped her wrists. She must have listened to his conversation with John, his father’s former tenant at Belvoir Castle. He had told John to keep secret his true identity. How much had she heard? “Do not allow your pretty head to mull on minor things that don’t concern you.”
“I could search him out. Ask questions—”
He took a step, towered over her. “That man wanted some furs for his wife, is all. Is it not right for a man to have a private discussion?”
“Perhaps you are a spy and are gathering secrets?”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “You are a woman of the senses. I meant nothing by it. It is over. There is nothing between us.”
“The lie rolls off your tongue slicker than water off a millwheel.”
He lifted his hand to touch her but withdrew. “I made a mistake. I should have kept my urges in check. I will see to it our marriage is annulled.”
Her voice trembled. “What made you forget what we shared?”
What could he give her? Death and destruction on a frontier amidst the pulse of revolution? An insecure future?
He could have none of it. He could not have Juliet, for his life was governed by dread. A bleeding, scheming dread that possessed a life of its own; in moments, it could render him powerless, infecting his body like poison.
He lived in hell. Loving Juliet would doom her to the same fate.
He had to let her go.
“We should have taken care not to complicate the problem. You’re an appealing woman. It would be so easy to—” He compressed his lips in a grim line and glanced at the bed.
“Easy to what?”
“Easy to roll you like a whore. There is nothing lacking in your shameless offerings.”
She drew up a hand to slap him but stopped. “Oh how you want me to hate you.” Her voice softened. “What are you afraid of, Joshua?”
“Afraid? Your notion is laughable.”
“You are afraid. You do want me.”
“You have invented a far-fetched feminine whim.” He stepped back, but she grabbed him to face her.
“Your façade is growing thin. I will not allow you to leave without me. I’ll make sure of it.”
She’d be happy as Lady Sunderland, the toast of society, fine clothes, bedecked in jewels, servants aplenty. Then why did acid bile rise in his throat at the thought?
“I see,” she said at last. “Captain Sunderland is more of a man than you will ever be. Even his kisses—”
There was nothing more Joshua wanted to do but kiss her to teach her a lesson for taunting him. His body heated like wildfire as her soft curves melted into him. Hungrily his mouth covered hers, his tongue tracing the contours of her sweet mouth.
Her hands slid up his arms and linked around his neck, her fingers winding in the tendrils of his hair at his nap. Aroused now, he lowered one hand to the small of her back and kissed his way down her smooth throat, following the elegant curve to her collarbone, right where the edge of her gown met skin. He nudged it down, tasting one new inch of her, exploring the soft, salty sweetness, and shuddering with pleasure when he cupped the rounded swell of her breast with his hand, feeling her nipple under his touch.
God, he wanted her.
