He had wanted an excuse to buy her a gift, it was true. And the billiards challenge had presented him with an excellent opportunity to claim that desire. Following the conclusion of their game, he had escorted her to her chamber. There, they had parted ways for the evening. He had not kissed her, and he was proud of himself for his unparalleled restraint.
Everything within him had been screaming with the need to take her mouth with his and make love to her all night long. However, bedding was not wooing. He knew the difference. If he wanted to get to the truth of what had happened between them two years ago—where they had gone so helplessly, hopelessly wrong—then he needed to take his time. To give this marriage all the attention and care it—and Julianna—deserved.
He had also sent a note to Charlotte first thing this morning. Acongéletting her know their understanding was at an end and that she could call upon his jeweler, who had been provided with a fund and the instructions to give Mrs. Edwards the parting gift of her choosing.
This was his second chance with Julianna, and he intended to seize it with both hands. Not to bloody well muck it up again.
Even so, those same hands he intended to do the seizing still trembled as he left the gift for her at her place setting at the breakfast table that morning. An extraordinarily early outing, along with the greasing of some palms and pulling of some strings, had enabled him to secure it. An original printing of a Keats collection.
He flipped it open with his thumb, revealing his inscription on the blank page preceding the frontispiece.
1885
To Julianna from Sidney
His forfeit
“O! let me have thee whole,—all—all—be mine!”
Was the line fromTo Fannytoo much? Mayhap. But he had already written the words, and there they were, silent and mocking. Moreover, he meant them. He wanted her, all of her, now and forever.
Sidney closed the book, frowning at himself. He had not had a drop of alcohol to drink in the days following his marriage. But the urge for a glass of wine—hell, a whole bloody bottle of Sauternes—walloped him now. He scratched his temple, thinking it a hell of a thing. Years had passed, and yet it was as if none had. He still wanted her desperately, loved her madly, and longed for her as if she were a part of him which had been torn away.
Because she was.
She was the best damned part of him.
Until she had decided she no longer wanted him. He had to decipher why. He had been close last night, he thought. But he was going slowly. He did not want to push her too far, too fast. He was willing to take his time.
Hell, they had the rest of their lives.
But he would be damned if it took that long, he thought with a renewed frown of displeasure.
“What has you so Friday-faced this morning?” Julianna asked brightly.
“Fuck,” he grumbled, his voice so low he was certain she would not overhear.
There were no servants about; he had dismissed them because he would be damned before he would make a lovesick fool of himself before the goddamn footmen. He could be as unfettered as he wished.
“You truly must pay more attention to your vulgar language,” his wife said as she approached.
Well, damn it. Apparently she had overheard after all. But never mind that. He was trapped in her thrall as she approached him.
Had pink ever looked so sumptuous on a female before? He was certain it had not. Her gown was embroidered with red roses and blonde lace adorned the décolletage and sleeves. A line of buttons he could not help but to be tempted to undo bisected her bodice. Her overskirt was gathered and held in place with a spray of silk roses. The pink complemented her fiery hair, creamy skin, and pale-blue eyes to perfection.
He forced himself to bow. “Forgive me,chérie.”
He truly did have to curb his wayward tongue. And he would. Old habits and all that. One of which was dipping into a curtsy, offering him a hesitant smile.
“If Emily repeats one of your curses, I shall blacken your eye,” she declared, quite dampening the effect.
“Never fear. Thus far, her favorite word seems to be Papa,” he countered with a grin and a wink. “Shall I fill your plate for you?”
“You have dismissed the domestics?” she asked instead of answering him. “They are quieter than mice in the larder hoping to avoid discovery.”
“I requested solitude.” Truth. She need not concern herself with the reason why.
“If you intend something nefarious—”
