Her response pleased him, and now she seemed more relaxed about being with him.
“I’m going to remove your boots,” Paul told her. “If you’ll allow it.”
Juliette lifted the hem of her gown and held out her boot. He unfastened the buttons and eased the first one off, then the second. When she was in her stockings, he pulled her foot into his lap, rubbing it softly. She leaned back, but her leg muscles tensed at his touch.
“No one has ever done this for me,” she confessed.
“We’ve been traveling for a long time. Let me tend to you.” He rubbed the insoles of her feet, using his thumbs to stroke her.
She was tensing at every touch, and though he tried to gentle his hands, she was biting her lip hard.
When he grazed the center of her foot, at last, she let out a shriek. “You’re tickling me. I can’t stand it.”
He hadn’t expected her to say that, and he let go. “It was no’ my intent to torture you.”
“I know.” But she withdrew her feet and stood up. “I won’t do the same to you. But would you like me to… rub your shoulders? My mother sometimes did that for my father.”
He gave a nod, unbuttoning his shirt and lifting it over his head. “I would like your hands on me, very much indeed.”
The air within their room felt heavier, almost heated in intensity. Juliette had never before seen Paul without a shirt, and it startled her to see the carved muscles upon his shoulders. He had a workingman’s body, of one who had done his share of heavy lifting and labor.
Have courage,she told herself. Touching him gave her the power of controlling the storm of emotions gathering within. She reached out, resting her hands on either side of his neck, and found that his skin was warmer than she’d expected, smooth and hard. Her fingers found the tension there, and when she began to move her hands over him, he sucked in a breath of air.
But he didn’t ask her to stop. She explored his back, finding the knots of tension by touch. As she’d seen her mother do, she used her thumbs to gently press against him, finding a way to release the pain.
“Take your hair down,” he said quietly.
She moved her hands back, pulling the pins free and laying them upon the table. There was no need to ask why. He wanted intimacy with her, to know her as a husband should. And this, at least, was no threat at all.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No. I’m wanting your hands upon me for as long as you want them there.” He guided them back to his shoulders. “You could touch my neck, too.”
She did, finding even more tension there. Her hair spilled over one of his shoulders, and he took the strands, lifting them to his nose. “You smell like summer, Juliette.”
Gently, he guided her around to sit upon his lap. Both of his arms came around her, and he moved his mouth to hover above hers. Though he didn’t kiss her, she recognized the invitation.
This time, she brought his mouth down to hers, initiating the kiss. His lips were familiar, a welcoming presence.
But somehow, there was more. As she kissed him, his hands drifted into her hair, gathering the locks and resting upon her nape. She felt his arousal beneath her, and her first instinct was to run.
He held her steady, pulling back. “I gave my word, Juliette. You’ve naught to fear.” He kissed her temple, running his mouth along her jaw. “It’s only the reaction of a man who desires you.”
Paul kept his hands loosely around her, and when she started to sit up, his hardened length nestled against her. This gown was far too thin, and she recognized the familiar ache between her legs. It was just like the time when he’d touched her at thecèilidh.He leaned to kiss her again, and his hands moved around her waist. “Don’t be afraid of my touch, Juliette.”
His voice mesmerized her, his midnight-blue eyes staring into her own. “There can be pleasure between us, even if I’m no’ inside you. You ken this.”
When he moved again, she felt his length touching a secret place within her. She was growing wet between her legs, and her breasts were tight, the nipples forming hard nubs.
“I remember,” she whispered. And yet, she couldn’t stop the unwanted memories from intruding. The violence of the rape, and the way the earl had forced himself within her, overlaid this moment. She was trembling, so afraid of the feelings he’d evoked. But Paul would never hurt her. She trusted in that.
“Let me undress you,” he commanded. “Let me touch you the way I’m wanting to.”
Juliette didn’t know what to say. Although he’d caressed her in secret that night, the idea of baring herself to Paul made her fear that he’d want to claim her with a husband’s right.
“I don’t know if we should,” she hedged. She was nervous about letting him see her without any clothes, though she knew it was only natural. What if he demanded more of her and lost control of himself? She remembered too well how she’d forgotten herself that night at thecèilidh.
But a secret part of her had also delighted in his touch.
