“Which could easily be found on the terrace. Instead, you are pulling me along at a pace that is difficult for me to keep up with in my current state of dress. I cannot simply hike up my evening gown and lengthen my stride, Florian.”
He slowed down immediately. “I am sorry, Juliette, I just had to get away from those people and all their jabbering.”
“You heard that, did you?”
He cut her a look as if to say he’d have had to be deaf not to. “This is precisely what I wanted to avoid. Being the center of attention has never agreed with me, but now it has become an unavoidable hazard of my title.”
Juliette sympathized, and yet, “It could be worse, you know. They could be sneering at you behind your back on account of your questionable background.”
He released her so abruptly she almost fell into the nearby rosebushes. “What do you mean?” Shadows played across his features, evoking an image reminiscent of Pan or some other mysterious forest creature lurching about in the darkness.
His voice was hushed, the sharpness dulled by the gurgling water of the nearby fountain. And yet, the alertness with which he questioned her was telling. It suggested misunderstanding on his part, as if he suspected her of asking something she wasn’t, though what that might be she honestly had no idea.
“When my siblings and I arrived in Mayfair, carving out a place for ourselves and gaining respect took time.” This clarification seemed to calm Florian. His shoulders sagged beneath the weight of his black evening jacket. “There are still those who judge us harshly, who consider us social upstarts and imposters. It took time to learn to ignore them. Thankfully, we have more friends than foes these days, for which we are all incredibly grateful. Though none of us have ever been accompanied by as many compliments as you were just now.”
“You must think me ungrateful.”
He’d released her arm, leaving her feeling bereft, and was now strolling ahead of her at a casual gait. In spite of not wanting to risk getting compromised and married off to a man who did not want her, Juliette followed him as easily as Psyche would have followed her Cupid.
“Not at all.” The torchlight dimmed as they approached the far corners of the garden. Deliberately, Juliette kept close to a group of trees in the hope of concealing herself if anyone happened to look their way and wonder about the two silhouettes straying from the rest of the party. “It is a sudden change for you, just as it was for me, and it will take time for you to adjust. That is all.”
“Unfortunately there is so much more to it than that.” He stopped and turned toward her with an abruptness that put them but an inch apart. And somehow, as with their previous encounter in a similar garden, his hand held her upper arm as if ready to either push her away or pull her toward him.
Juliette held her breath and waited while wishing against her better judgment that he would choose to do the latter.
It was dark. None of the torches lighting the garden reached the corner in which they stood; Juliette with her back against a tree and he with his hand wrapped gently around her arm. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, only that it had. And he had no desire to release his hold on her but rather to savor the blessed intimacy of it.
She was close, so close he could smell the enticing scent of peonies, hear every breath she took and sense the rapid beat of her pulse which surely kept pace with his own. Damned if she wasn’t the loveliest creature on earth and he wasn’t tempted to take every liberty she would permit. But the consequences, ah, those blasted consequences always ruined the moment.
“I fear for your safety, Juliette.” Whoever was responsible for the threats he’d been receiving, Florian would not permit the villain to use his fondness for Juliette as leverage. Or worse. The thought of anyone causing her bodily harm was enough to make him keep his distance even if scandal and his own tarnished entry into this world somehow failed. No matter what, he had to protect her.
Of course, she misunderstood his meaning entirely. “As you should.” She leaned back as if seeking escape, yet the hitch in her breathing suggested a longing for more. “I cannot answer for what might happen between us if you do not walk away.”
Christ, she was glorious! A tempting siren ready to lead him astray without any effort to pretend otherwise. Her admission stirred his blood to no end. It drew him to her so he was leaning in, his one hand still on her arm, the other one now at her waist.
“As regrettable as it is, you are a risk I cannot permit.” He spoke the discouraging words even as he allowed his index finger to draw a line up the length of her torso. He did it with slow deliberation, reveling in the tiny little gasps she emitted when he finally reached the edge of her décolletage and, more daringly than he’d intended, stroked his way along it. “A treat I cannot savor.” Flattening his entire hand across the lovely expanse of her breasts, he pressed himself into her warmth. A shudder rolled through her and then she arched, her hips seeking purchase while her breathing turned more ragged.
“Florian.”
Damn him for letting himself encourage her needs. And damn him for loving the fervor with which she yearned for his touch. Somehow, he would have to put an end to this before they were found or before he did something foolish like strip her bare right here, right now and take her with every carnal need he possessed.
But first, he had to take something with him—something to treasure in the lonely nights that loomed before him. “Yes, Juliette. What do you want?”
“Everything,” she sighed on parted lips that beckoned while reassuring him of her desire.
It quickened his pulse even as he pulled away, adding distance by stepping back and leaving her there, alone and without his reciprocation. But to tell her he felt the same would threaten his already thin control. “I am sorry.” The incomprehension filling her eyes was more than understandable. And since he could offer her nothing else besides that pathetic apology, he turned away and headed for home while damning himself to the hell where he surely belonged.
“This evening’s social function has offered some information that will be of great interest to you,” Mr. Smith told Bartholomew. “Your spy has uncovered a weakness.”
Sitting up straighter, Bartholomew angled his head and gestured for Smith to step closer. “Leave us,” he told the woman who’d been licking her way up the length of thigh protruding from the opening in his robe. Reaching for his brandy, he asked her to wait for him upstairs in his bedchamber. “Pick a toy,” he drawled, “and we’ll have some fun.” He watched her departure while sipping his drink. Once out of sight, he gave Smith his full attention. “You were saying?”
The servant smirked, which was always a good sign. “There is a lady whom your son seems to favor.”
Bartholomew shifted, drawing his robe more tightly around himself. “Enough for a threat on her life to matter?”
“Possibly.” Smith nodded pensively. “From what I gather he was spotted in a rather intimate embrace with her, though he made no actual attempt at seduction.”
“Which would suggest he either fears attachment or cares about her too much to compromise her at a social event.” Bartholomew’s interest increased. “Who is this woman?”
