“I traveled abroad. Where I traveled and for what purpose is my concern.” He shrugged his shoulders, as if his answer did not matter.
When it mattered to her. If he had been to New York, if he had come looking for her…
No, that was just the naïve girl she had not been able to completely shed. The one who had believed Viscount Shelbourne’s promises. The one who had melted beneath his touch and kisses. The one who had risked everything.
And who had been left with almost nothing.
Emily had made each risk worthwhile. Julianna loved her daughter with a ferocity that left her awed.
And that was why she needed to press the issue, she reminded herself—Emily’s sake. Everything she was doing now was for her.
“What if people begin to ask questions?” she asked him, trying not to notice the manner in which his gaze had dropped to her lips. “I will not have this plan of yours bring the very shame upon Emily we are trying to avoid.”
A mocking smile curved his lips. “Your concern for our daughter is touching. A bit late.”
She wondered what their marriage would be like. More of this push and pull, the prodding, the distrust and coldness? Either way, she supposed it was no different than the marriage she would face with someone else. And with this marriage, there remained the hope of escape.
“You forget she is the reason I am marrying you now.”
“Eh?” He shrugged again, his lips taking on a bitter twist. “I thought it was for money. Your darling uncle’s inheritance, no?”
His implication stung. Her decision had not been motivated by anything other than the desire to liberate herself from her mother and father. To live a life on her own, to further her business goals, to raise Emily. To call herselfMama.Dear God, how saying that single, momentous word to her daughter earlier had felt so incredibly freeing. Like a gift. She would not allow Shelbourne to ruin it.
“Is that what you think of me, Shelbourne?” she demanded. “That I am marrying you to gain a fortune?”
“You certainly did not want to marry me without one.”
There was ice in his voice, a sneer on his sensual lips. There was also a multitude of reasons why she had not wanted to marry him, not the least of which was that his offer of marriage had been insincere.
“I did not want to marry you because of who you are,” she countered bluntly. “You could have possessed a fortune one hundred times that of my uncle’s, and I would still have told you no.”
He closed the rest of the distance between them, until their bodies were flush, her breasts against his chest, no space between them. His forefinger hooked her chin, tipping her face up.
She held her breath, her left hand still firmly clutching the back of the chair as if she were a drowning woman who had been tossed overboard and the gilt her lifeline. Julianna told herself she would not retreat. That she would remain unaffected.
“Do you know what I think,chérie?” he asked silkily.
“Cease calling me that.”
The demand slipped from her lips. She was challenging him. She had promised herself she would remain calm.
But he was near. Touching her, his tall, masculine body pressed to hers. His scent invading her senses. His lips maddeningly close. He was affecting her. Just when she had believed herself impervious to him.
“Cease calling youchérie?” His head dipped.
There was a fire in his eyes. Old and familiar. Dangerous.
She recognized it well; so, too, the huskiness in his voice.
He was going to kiss her. She knew it. And she had a moment to make her decision. Would she flee or would she stay?
Run, urged her mind.
Stay, said her heart.
“Yes,” she managed to say. “Stop calling me that. We are not lovers. We are strangers.”
“But we have been lovers.” His finger traveled along her jaw, leaving a path of fire on her skin. “And we shall be again.”
