She took a step forward, rose up on her tiptoes, and put her arms around his neck. She looked up at him with those beautiful light-green eyes that would tempt a saint and said, “I was hoping for our first kiss.”
And he obliged her, by God. Standing there, smelling the scent of her perfume, the moonlight filtering through the window, he’d pulled her into his arms, lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her.
The kiss had soon transformed into much more. They were unable to keep their hands from each other. He’d lifted her into his arms and lowered her onto the chaise in the corner. Then he lowered himself atop her, grinding his hips against hers, wanting her unlike he’d ever wanted any woman in his life.
Julianna’s hands were in his hair; she helped him to quickly divest himself of his coat, while his mouth never left hers, then she helped him to pull up her skirts while his hand skimmed along her calf, her thigh, until he found the apex between her legs.
She reached down and cupped him beneath his breeches. He groaned and tried to move his hips away, but she wouldn’t let him, stroking him until he’d nearly come in his clothing.
He’d finally wrenched her hand away to set his breathing back to rights before he touched the delicate spot between her legs. She’d moaned and moved closer to his hand. When his finger entered her, her hips nearly came off the chaise. He wanted to bury himself inside her and pump his hips slowly, rubbing her until she called his name, and then following her into sweet oblivion.
But Julianna deserved more than a quick shagging on a chaise in his study. She deserved a wedding night worthy of a princess. And he intended to give her one. But here, on his chaise, he could give her something to remember him by.
Using his thumb, he flicked at the nub between her legs, again and again as he watched the expression of amazement play across her expressive features. She was so wet, so hot, so ready for him. He gritted his teeth against the agony of his erection, determined to make her feel pleasure tonight with no such reciprocation for him.
Julianna’s head moved back and forth fitfully on the cushion beneath her and she made tiny little gasping sounds in the back of her throat that made Rhys even harder. He continued to flick that aching spot until she grabbed at his upper arms. “Rhys,” she cried. “What is happening?”
“Just let go,” he instructed her, leaning down and whispering in her ear. “Don’t be frightened.”
He continued to whisper to her telling her how much he wanted her, how beautiful she was, and finally, how much he wanted to watch her pleasure, until her legs tensed and she cried out softly, her breaths coming in hard, sharp pants as her entire body shook.
He carefully helped her to right her clothing and sit up as she continued to breathe heavily and looked at him through confused, glazy green eyes that were wide with—dare he guess?—wonder.
“I’ve never felt anything like that before,” she whispered.
He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “That’s how it will always be between us, Love,” he promised.
Her mother had called from the corridor then, and Rhys had hastily replaced his jacket before helping Julianna to stand. They’d made some asinine excuse about looking at the artwork that hung over his desk, but he was fairly certain Lady Montlake suspected they’d been doing something quite different from appreciating a painting. She hadn’t said a word, however.
* * *
The restof the story was history. He’d left soon after. God, he’d come so close to making the biggest mistake of his life. Looking back, Rhys could see precisely how big a fool he’d been. Julianna had been the one to initiate the kiss in his study, just as she had that day at the tree line. He’d been the one who stopped it in his study. If it had gone too far, she could have roped him into marriage. He’d have been trapped and she’d have got precisely what she wanted.
But if she were trying to trap him, why had she been the one who’d stopped it at the tree line?
Rhys stabbed the hay with even more vigor; again and again he flung the straw into the opposite pile. His muscles would ache in the morning. Hell, they ached now. No amount of physical labor would cause the memories of her to fade. Worse. No amount of physical labor would cause thedoubtto fade.
Becausewhat ifshe wasn’t an actress?What ifshe had only ever loved him, and had been devastated that he hadn’t come back that Season, and had been forced to make another match? It wasn’t as if he could have expected her to wait forever. He’d wanted her to be happy.What ifshe was telling the truth and the story in theTimeshad simply confused the issue?
He stopped pitching and stood staring unseeing at the stall door, his breaths exhaling in deep bursts. What if he was the biggest horse’s arse to ever live?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Julianna made her way over to the window and pulled back the curtain enough to pick out the stables across the meadow. She and Mary had just finished lunch with their mother and had been bidden to rest. Julianna had no more interest in doing so than usual.
Rhys had told her that Lord Murdock was coming. Had Rhys merely been trying to provoke her, or was it true? And if itwastrue, why was that the first she’d heard of it?
But Murdock’s visit wasn’t what had truly alarmed her. For some reason, the possibility of his attempt to move up the wedding date had nearly sent her into a panic. She’d written a letter to Papa, asking if it were true.
Meanwhile, her mother had confirmed that Murdock did, indeed, intend to arrive in the morning.
“I thought you knew, dear,” was all Mama had said in response to Julianna’s questioning. “Your father wrote and told me.”
But Julianna hadn’t known, and it irked her that her father or Murdock wouldn’t think to tellhersuch a thing. It seemed like a common courtesy.
Julianna traced the cool windowpane with her fingertip. It was difficult to think of Murdock when Rhys was so near. Rhys had surprised her again today. Perhaps as much as her sister had. He’d been patient, kind, and caring while teaching Mary to ride. He’d gone out of his way to ensure Mary was comfortable and he’d been willing to stop the lesson each time she appeared overwhelmed. Julianna’s heart had been in her throat watching them together in the paddock.
Rhys had taken her barbs in stride, actually. Apparently, nothing ruffled the man. Julianna had been counting on the fact that he was a pampered, privileged duke who was used to being waited on, not waiting upon. Surely, doing a hard day’s work and being critiqued at it would cause such a man to become frustrated and ill-tempered. Instead he appeared to have endless patience with both Mary and the horse. Surprising indeed.
