Her acceptance of him was disarming. He hardly knew how to respond except with one last attempt to make her see reason. “My father is the most renowned criminal in England.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “He is. But that doesn’t mean you should let his actions define you.”
Sage advice from someone so young. “I became a physician because of him, not because I wanted to do good but because I needed to prove I was better than him, that the tainted blood in my veins would not decide who I would be.”
The edge of her mouth lifted to form a sanguine smile. “And yet you described your profession as a vocation when you spoke of it during the Falconrich Ball last Season.”
“I suppose it became one.” He’d had a natural flair for it and had consequently applied himself without second thought.
“So then what does it matter how it all began?” She bunched the coverlet in her hands and held on tight. “What is important is where you are now, the man you have become and the fact that the world owes you a debt of gratitude for your unfailing dedication.”
The way she saw him was more than enlightening; it was simple, cutting through rank and profession and delving beyond façade to where only truth existed. It was humbling and gratifying all at once, but it did not make reality any easier to deal with. Least of all when he could think of only one way in which to lessen the damage to her reputation, but since she was still on the mend and he wished her to focus all energy on improving her health, he refrained from making the suggestion. It was enough that he had to worry about taking away her choices and of her never knowing if he made his offer in earnest or because he felt honor bound to do so.
“You are a godsend, Juliette.” He spoke without thinking, saying the first thing that came to mind. Her eyes, when they met his, appeared less alert than earlier, so he took that as his cue to leave. “Get some rest. It is the best thing you can do for yourself right now.”
Closing her eyes on a nod, she rolled her head to the side and snuggled deep into the pillow. “Thank you for taking such excellent care of me, Florian.”
He fought the urge to bow down and kiss her and went to the door instead. “You are most welcome.” His chest was tight as he quit the room, his every nerve ending screaming for him to stay with her. But he also needed to clear his head in order to think, which was something he could not do as well as he ought when he was near her. The distraction she offered was simply too great, the temptation to let his gaze linger upon her eyelashes, the tip of her nose, the curve of her ear... He truly was losing his mind over this woman.
No.
He had lost his mind over her when he’d succumbed to the urge to kiss her. Until that moment, he’d maintained some semblance of sanity and control, but there was now a precise instant in time—a second he could literally point to—in which he had lost it. His heart was in her hands now, which wasn’t as frightening as he had feared. In fact, for a man who’d done everything in his power to avoid falling in love, he had to admit that there was something remarkably pleasant about it.
It was two days before Juliette decided she was well enough to venture out of bed. Sitting in the armchair Florian had occupied whenever he’d come to check on her, she tried to concentrate on the book she was reading. It was difficult.Verydifficult. In fact, she had already reread the same page three times, which was not a criticism of Ann Radcliffe, whose novels she adored, but a testament to her preoccupation with a certain gentleman.
Florian was wrong to castigate himself for being Bartholomew’s son. She certainly had no issue with it. But since he was the one directly affected by it and she sensed it cut a deep wound in his soul, she understood that saying as much would not be enough. She would have to show him that he was deserving of love no matter who his father was or what he had done. But to do so would take time—time spent together—time for him to realize she would always choose him, no matter what.
A knock sounded at the door and her “Enter!” brought the man in question into the room. He was just as casually attired today as he had been all the other days he’d tended to her. The domestic appearance warmed her heart, but the breadth of his shoulders and the hint of skin peeking out from behind his open shirt collar made a flush creep over her cheeks. Yes, she had recovered, enough to appreciate Florian’s physical attributes and enough to long for him to kiss her again.
“Your beauty never ceases to astound me.” His words were soft and yet they crashed over her with delightful force. Since registering the distress she’d felt upon discovering her hair had been sheared, he’d been complimenting her as often as possible. “I am not just saying that,” he added hastily. “I honestly mean it.”
“I know you do and I thank you.” The new uncertainty with which he had started addressing her was endearing. She wasn’t sure what caused it, but she liked him like this, a bit out of sorts. It matched the way she’d always felt inhispresence. “Will you join me?”
He glanced across at the bed, hesitated a moment and then went to sit on the edge of the mattress. “I ought to have Jillian tend to you for the remainder of your stay.” His voice was thoughtful. “All gossip aside, having me visit you in your bedchamber like this, now that you are almost fully recovered, is highly inappropriate.”
Juliette’s heart sank. She did not want to lose his attention or the chance to make him see how right they were for each other. Setting her book aside, she pondered her options. He had been raised with a strict concept of how to treat a lady. Rules and etiquette had been drilled into him all his life, so it was only natural for him to insist the closeness they had shared during her illness come to an end. Unless she was able to speak to the part of him that had tossed propriety aside at the opera and kissed her with abandon. That part of him existed, no matter how much he tried to restrain it.
With this in mind, she told him simply, “I do not wish for Jillian’s ministrations. I wish for yours.”
His eyes, those deep blue eyes, drove into hers with hot intensity. “Juliette.”
Her name was spoken in warning and with encouraging roughness. “I still feel slightly faint.”Faint because of you, not because of fever. Rising to her feet, she forced him to stand as well. “You are my physician, Florian. I am here because of you, so I think it only proper that you should be the one to ensure my full recuperation.”
His posture had gone completely rigid, his stance suggesting he was caught between the urge to run and the duty to stay. “Helping you dress and undress, assisting you with your bath, is no longer something I must do, Juliette. Indeed...” His expression had turned tumultuous. “It is not something Ishouldbe doing any longer.”
Tilting her head, she took a step closer to where he stood. “Why not?”
“Because I am no longer a mere physician, Juliette. I am a man who desires you in every way imaginable.” His breath was ragged, his words coming in quick succession as if they were bricks in a wall being built to protect him from her advance. “It was easy to ignore it while I was struggling to save your life. But now that you are well again, I am embarrassed to admit I cannot see you unclothed without betraying my professionalism.”
“Of all the compliments you have ever given me, I do believe that is the best.” For it wasn’t spoken in an effort to pamper her ego or soothe her spirit, but as a real warning of what might occur if she chose to ignore him. Brazenly, she continued forward, not stopping her progress until she was but a hand’s width away. “Would it trouble you if I were to tell you that I rather like the idea of you betraying your professionalism?”
When on earth had she started sounding so wanton? And when had she gotten the courage to say such outrageous things? It had to be her determination to win him that made her do so. For in truth, she was sure she would say what was necessary, no matter how improper or undignified, if it meant she would meet with success.
“We are in a bedchamber, Juliette. You cannot say such things to me without consequence.” His voice was raw, his chest rising and falling heavily while his eyes studied her with infinite longing.
“If the consequence is a kiss like the one we shared before, then it shall be worth it.” She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, praying for his surrender. He was tall, his masculine presence crowding her with its physical power. Energy hummed between them, a living thing writhing and thrashing against its chains until she placed her hand on his arm.
The action, tentative as it was, seemed to unravel his finely held control. Without warning, he wound his arm around her, pulling her close as his mouth met hers with desperation. It was rough and unforgiving, elemental in its urgency and thoroughly effective in feeding the cravings of Juliette’s mind, body and soul. She reveled in it, in the force with which he held her and the diligence with which he accommodated her need for him to surround her, caress her, taste her.
