A part of her processed the sound of her attacker cursing and then the quick, hefty thuds of his footfalls racing across her chamber. A second set of footfalls sounded. She braced herself, uncertain if they belonged to one of his confederates. Just as quickly, the footsteps hastened back to her side. Someone else was upon her then, and this time it was a welcome embrace, for she smelled his cologne, felt his arms around her in their familiar, beloved strength. His bristled cheek pressed to hers.
Julian, thank God.
“Clara!” His voice was hoarse, and he clasped her to his bare chest as though he could pull her inside himself and keep her there forever. “Jesus, Clara, are you hurt? Speak to me, love. Say something.”
“I’m alive,” she croaked in awe, her brain still stupid with lack of air and shock, still trying to process what had just occurred.
“Thank Christ. My God, what did he do to you? I’ll hunt him down and draw and quarter him myself.” There was a vicious, raw edge to his tone she’d never heard before.
When he would’ve left her and chased after her attacker, she clutched at his shoulders. “No, Julian, please. Don’t leave me.”
Terror, wide and deep and all-consuming, filled her chest at the thought of being alone in the dark again. What if whoever had tried to kill her would return? What if Julian wouldn’t be there to frighten him away and keep her safe? Her pistol had done her no good tonight, tucked into her reticule as it was and too far out of reach. She shook so badly that she knew she’d never have managed a good shot anyhow.
If she’d ever fancied herself invincible, that illusion had been thoroughly dashed. She’d never felt more desperate or helpless than she had with a stranger’s hands clamped around her throat and the life seeping from her body. A sob rose in her chest, and to her shame she couldn’t contain it.
“Hush, darling.” He caressed her hair, rained kisses all over her face. “I’ll not leave you. He won’t hurt you again. You have my word.”
His reassurance somehow helped to banish some of the horror that threatened to take hold of her. She continued to gulp air, and breathing—never before a luxury—felt better than it ever had. “Julian, he wanted to kill me. He told me I was going to die tonight.”
“Any man who dares try to hurt you will need to go through me. I’ll damn well kill him first,” Julian growled. “Listen to me, love. Whoever he is, he cannot come after you and expect to get away with it. I’ll hunt down the son-of-a-bitch myself and make him pay.”
If only his words could assuage her fears entirely. For tonight had made it painfully clear that whoever was determined to do him harm wouldn’t stop until he’d accomplished his evil task. Either that or meet his own end first. And now he’d come after Clara as well. A shiver tore through her. Her thoughts raced to Julian’s sisters next. “Do you think he’s still within the house? We need to find Lady Josephine and Lady Alexandra.”
He kissed her again before standing. “Stay here, love. I’m going to ring for the servants and turn up the lamps.”
Clara hugged herself, her body shaking with a combination of cold and shock. Her nightdress was only a thin impediment to the night air. Light flared to life, illuminating the chamber in a dull glow. Ordinarily, the sight of Julian clad in only trousers slung over his lean hips, his chest broad and bare, would have made her warm and wanton. But panic was beginning to set in now. She rubbed her neck where the stranger’s fingers had pressed. How much longer would it have been until he’d taken her life?
Never mind her own brush with death. There could still be a lunatic on the loose. Others could be in the selfsame danger while they lingered in her chamber. Clara summoned her wits, took a calming breath, and slid from her bed. “We must find your sisters, Julian,” she said again.
He was looking at her strangely, an inscrutable expression on his face, his gaze going from her neck to her throbbing cheek. “Jesus, Clara. Why didn’t you tell me he’d hit you?”
She shook her head. “It’s nothing. Lady Alexandra and Lady Josephine could be at peril even now.”
“The bastard ran for the stairs, not toward their chamber.” He held out a dressing gown for her, his jaw a hard, grim line. “Put this on, love. You can’t go running about the house like that.”
She allowed him to help her into the robe, and when she would have tightened the cord at her waist, he gently brushed her away, doing it himself. “I could have managed it,” she told him.
“I know.” The words seemed torn from him. “But I wanted to. I—goddamn it Clara, I need to touch you. To know you’re still here.”
His tone held a note of incredulity, as though he could not believe he felt that way, much less confessed it aloud. Then he hauled her to him again, the gesture devoid of his usual seductive charm. The motion was jerky, nearly bringing their faces colliding together. His eyes roamed over her as his fingertips traced, gliding across her smarting cheek, past her lips, across the bruises she was sure had begun to mottle her throat. It was the closest he’d ever come to admitting he cared for her.
A sudden burst of love blossomed inside her chest, warm and altogether foreign, doing its part to chase away some of the lingering shadows. “I’m here,” she told him, kissing his cheek, his chin, every patch of his skin available to her. Finally, she settled on his mouth.
The kiss they shared was long and fierce and deep. It said more than either of them could as they rejoiced in their relief to be in each other’s arms, life still a vibrant creature of fragile possibility. For now, they had each other. They were safe. And it was enough.
With great reluctance, she drew away from him. “We must see to the rest of the household, Julian.”
“Of course. Forgive me. I’ve never…” He allowed the thought to trail off, as though thinking better of it, before catching her hand in his, their fingers tangling. “I’ll not let you out of my sight for the rest of the night.”
She tightened her grip on him. With Julian, she felt safe. She felt as though they could battle whatever menace sought to claim them and come out the victors. “I wouldn’t let you,” she assured him. “Not tonight or ever again.”
But as they ventured off together to find his sisters who, as it turned out, remained peacefully sleeping in their beds, having been unaware of any commotion at all, it occurred to Clara that he had remained troublingly silent.
ours later, Julian found himself in much the same positionhe’d been in before all hell had cut loose within the walls of his home. Nude in his bed, his cock rigid as ever. But this time, a beautiful woman, smelling of orange and musk, just as nude as he, curled her sweet body to his. Her cheek rested on his bare chest. His hand stroked over her glossy, fragrant curls. It wasn’t right to want her as much as he did now, not after all she’d been through. But his body wouldn’t heed his bloody mind, so he kept his lower half angled away from her, hoping like hell she hadn’t noticed what a depraved bastard he was.
Ah yes, much the same position indeed. Hungry for his wife. Unable to sleep. But beyond the physicality of it all, everything was different. Strange how in such a short amount of time, so much could change.
Everything could change.
