“Julia.” Mrs. Danvers squeezed her hand. “Beautiful. Now, let’s bring these back to the gentlemen, shall we? And enjoy the rest of our night.”
Julia agreed and together they returned to the men. Rosalinde slipped next to Danvers and Julia took her place beside Alexander. His fingers brushed hers as she handed him his glass and she felt him searching her face. Seeing her emotion and she could do nothing to hide it. Not with him.
“Are you well?” he whispered.
She nodded, unable to clarify in words without crying over the quiet happiness of this moment. It was unlike anything she’d felt for a very long time and she wanted to enjoy it as much as possible. He didn’t press further but he did take her hand and hold it and she let him as the night continued.
Alexander and Julia waved farewell to their hosts from the carriage window an hour after the end of their supper. There had been promises to invite them again, an new kind of acquaintance just beginning that he found himself looking forward to. He’d been invested with Danvers for a few years nowand had always respected and liked the man. But it had taken Julia to open up the world of his friendship.
She settled back in the dimness of the carriage and watched him from across the way. “That was a wonderful night.”
“It was,” he said.
“I didn’t expect it,” she continued. “I thought he wished to meet with me privately so that no one would know he was taking my money. But to be so welcomed into their home was…well, it was very different than what I experienced with?—”
She cut herself off, but he knew what she was going to say. “With Laurence.”
Her gaze flitted to the window. “With any man. At any time, in any world. I’ve never had even a hint, even a smidgen of what my sisters now have. Not until tonight.”
He caught his breath. She was comparing this night they’d shared to something her sisters might do with their husbands. The ones theyloved. The idea that anything he could have possibly done might have created such comfort in her was a source of what could only be described as pride. And he wanted to do more of it. He wanted to wrap himself around her and make her smile and blush for as long as possible.
But that was a fantasy, wasn’t it? A dream.
“Alexander?” she whispered, interrupting his racing thoughts. On the ride over she had refused to call him by his given name. But now it rolled off her tongue like some lovely caress and he almost preened with it.
“Yes, Julia?”
“Will you take me back to your home?”
He swallowed. He knew what she was asking and it wasn’t about another drink or a conversation. He slowly shook his head. “No.”
Her eyes darted away in embarrassment so he hastened to add, “Not because I don’t want you there. Since the night youcame to me after our return to London, I’ve only dreamed of you there again. I say no because my mother returned home today and I think there might be some strain if we come there together.”
“Your mother?” she repeated, her brows lifting with surprise. “You live with your mother?”
“I do.” He gave no further explanation, because he didn’t want to go into the details when she was looking at him like she might pounce across the carriage at him.
She leaned forward. “Then perhaps when we reach my home, you could come in with me?”
There was some dark, desire-driven part of him that simply wanted to agree. That wanted to snatch her to him and indulge in the fantasies he’d been having about her for weeks, months…God, possibly longer if he were honest with himself about it.
But the stronger part didn’t want to take advantage.
“Are you certain?” he asked. “I didn’t do this tonight in order to manipulate this situation. I don’t want to be another man who demands repayment from you. Another man who you might regret at some point.”
Her expression softened a little and her breath caught. “Despite our beginnings, I’m learning that you could never be that man, Alexander. I’m not asking you to come home with me, to come to my bed with me, because I want to repay you for a kindness. I’ve said thank you. I want to take you to my bed because all I want is your hands on me, your mouth on me, you inside of me. I want pleasure and I want it with you.”
He swallowed because there was naked desire on her face and in her voice and in her words. It matched his own, increased his own to the point where he could scarcely think for wanting to touch her. So he did.
He scooted to the front of the carriage seat and let his fingers trace the line of her cheek. She shivered at the contact and hecouldn’t help but do the same. Touching her was like enjoying fine satin against one’s skin.
“I would like nothing more,” he whispered, then leaned in and kissed her.
The first time they’d kissed, it had been angry and charged. A passionate gnashing of teeth and tongues, with an equally fast and powerful coupling that followed. It had been all fire, but a denial of true connection.
But this was all connection. She made a soft sound of pleasure in the back of her throat and he tugged her forward, across the space between them so that she was on his lap. Her fingers dug into his hair, nails just cascading across his scalp so that his skin tingled.
She parted her lips and allowed him access to her mouth. He took it, tasting her, exploring her warmth as she did the same. Her arms wound around his neck and she arched closer to him, as if she could somehow melt into him. He wanted her to, but not here in his carriage when they’d be interrupted.
