“And did he explain to you that no lady should even know such words exist, let alone allow them to cross their lips?”
“But, ‘Oh heaven’s’ or ‘upon my word’ just doesn’t achieve the same effect,” she grumbled.
His lips twitched in amusement. “Come, we need to get you back to the house and out of those wet clothes before you catch your death.”
He made to assist her up on Cyclops’s back, but she staunchly refused.
“I’ll walk. I refuse to get back on one of those misbegotten brutes.”
Justin slapped the horse on the rump and said, “Home!” Cyclops galloped off in the direction of the stables.
“Ben can collect Queenie later,” Justin said, looking over at the horse, who was calmly munching on a bush.
“I say leave her out here to freeze,” she muttered ungraciously.
He chuckled. “I am not sure you were meant to get along with horses, Jillian.”
“Is there no end to your powers of observation?”
He shook his head. “You have the tongue of a viper.”
The two walked the short distance back to the house. Justin kept his eyes straight ahead. With every step Jillian took, the wet material clung more tightly to her body. She was going to drive him mad and she had only been here a day.
###
By week’s end, Jillian had turned Justin’s household upside down, and he doubted she even realized it. She was often seen racing about, Maddie and Toby close on her heels. She visited the kitchens frequently, engaging Cook in lively conversation. Even Edward had lost some of his sobriety in the wake of Jillian’s impish smile and quick wit. Greta was treated like a childhood friend instead of a lady’s maid and it didn’t escape Justin’s notice that Jillian made few demands of Greta.
It became increasingly clearer to him that Jillian was no ordinary woman. She didn’t do anything in half measure. She embraced life with an exuberance that was uncommon to most people. She exhausted him and made him smile all at the same time.
A few days before Christmas, Justin woke to see a blanket of snow covering the ground. He gazed out his window as he dressed, smiling as he pictured he, Case and their cousin Hawk sledding down the hill behind the house. The three had spent many fun-filled days tossing snow at one another, building snow forts, and making snow angels for their mother. Then they would reluctantly trudge into the house when the call to dinner was made, shaking snow from their boots and warming their hands by the fire.
He frowned suddenly. He hadn’t heard from Hawk since well before he had departed for India, and Case had not mentioned any contact with him either. They had all been close as children, but as they grew older, Hawk became more distant, spending more time away from London and Whittington. He would have to remember to pen a letter to his cousin to find out how he was faring.
Once he finished dressing, he made his way down the stairs and walked out onto the terrace, eager to take a morning ride in the snow. He was walking down the path out of the gardens and towards the stables, when something cold and wet hit him squarely in the back of the neck. The shock of the icy cold, now liquid snow sliding down his back made him shiver. He whirled around to see Jillian standing a short distance away, a wicked gleam in her eye.
“Are you always up this early?” he asked in exasperation.
She grinned. “Always.”
Before he could dodge, she let fly another snowball, this one hitting him right in the eye. He blinked rapidly, the snow sliding from his face. She had impressive aim.
“You are going to pay dearly for that one,” he growled. He scooped up a handful of snow and charged after her. She squealed in surprise and took off running across the snow-covered ground as fast as her skirts would allow.
He caught up to her and sent her tumbling to the ground with one well-placed hand to her back. He stuffed the handful of snow down the back of her dress. She shrieked as the ice made contact with her skin and she rolled over underneath him, her chest heaving in exertion. She looked up at him suspiciously, as if expecting another attack. Their eyes locked, and the smile slid from his lips. He lay over her, supporting his weight on one arm. Their faces were just inches apart. It seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to...
He lowered his lips to hers, tentatively at first, gauging her reaction, then more deeply as he met with no resistance. His free hand smoothed the hair from her cheek and slid behind her neck to cup her head.
Jillian arched instinctively against him, wanting his touch, craving more. She hadn’t expected to want this, need this, like she did. At first she returned his kiss timidly, not at all sure what she was doing, but then, quickly gaining confidence, she responded more passionately, parting her lips under the gentle pressure he was exerting. He accepted the unconscious invitation and delved his tongue between her lips.
Suddenly, she stiffened beneath him, memories of Lucas’s thick, forceful tongue overwhelming her. The chilly dampness from the snow pervaded her consciousness, where, just moments before, she had been oblivious to the cold.
Sensing her withdrawal, Justin drew away. He looked searchingly at her. “I’m sorry, Jillian,” he began.
She put a finger over his lips, her eyes expressing all the dismay she must have felt. She scrambled up, brushing the snow from her pelisse. Justin watched her hurry away, confusion clouding his thoughts.
One moment she had responded to him, hot and hungry. The next, it was as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water over them. Or snow, he thought, looking down and striking at the snow, scattering the powder in all directions. It was little wonder she withdrew. He had rolled her to the ground like a common wench. He flopped back to the ground shaking his head. What about her caused him to think and act so recklessly?
Jillian hurried past the house, foregoing the warm confines within and heading toward the stables. She really had no firm idea of where she was going, nor did she care. She stopped once she reached the inside and leaned against the wall, bringing her trembling fingers to her lips. His touch still burned her skin, and it both titillated and frightened her. She clenched the fingers that still rested on her lips into a fist. What must he think of her?
