And now that the time had come, he was embarrassed about how nervous he was.
He was no lad, but a man solidly in his third decade of life. He wasn’t inexperienced by any means or any sense of the word. He was confident in his abilities and his knowledge. But there was something about being there with Juliette within arm’s reach that set him on his ear. She made the world tilt and turned his insides to mush. It only served to amplify his mild discomfort about eating in front of her—if his mother had done anything, it was to instill proper manners in him until they were as natural as breathing.
This dissipated like mist when Juliette leaned forward and plucked a few plump grapes from the pile upon his plate, smiling as she popped one into her mouth. Little did she know, the innocuous action made his insides melt even more.
There was something incredibly intimate about the small gesture; something surprisingly comfortable. His mind turned it over and over as his mouth enjoyed the savory meal the Hopesend kitchen staff had prepared.
“You could have sent for a servant to bring you supper, you know. We are fully staffed for the party.”
Ian finished chewing before responding. “I’m not all that comfortable requesting something so simple be done for me, not when I’m fully capable.” He proceeded to cut another piece of roast meat. “I don’t employ a valet either; it’s why I dress so simply because I need to be able to do it myself. Mrs. Brown—the woman you met when you stopped by my offices—is the extent of my hired help. She handles the cooking and cleaning.”
“Ah,” Juliette replied, her eyes glittering. “So there is no one to care for you besides your rather formidable gatekeeper.” The words were far from unkind, perhaps even somewhat admirable toward the older woman’s tenacity. “May I ask why it makes you so uncomfortable to have others wait on you?”
He lifted a shoulder. “As you may have suspected, I did not grow up with servants.” He hesitated, unsure how much of his life and past to divulge, but the earnest glint in her fathomless eyes, the way she leaned toward him as he spoke, decided for him. “My mother worked as a maid in a household in Edinburough to help fund my education and provide support as I moved on to medical school. I witnessed firsthand how hard she worked to earn what little she could; it was disproportionate. Even though I earned a scholarship, there were still everyday expenses and other necessities to cover. The courses were so rigorous they left little time to sleep, let alone hold a job to pay for us both.” He skimmed over the part where he’d always been forced to work twice as hard to earn half the accolades as his English classmates, or those with enough money to afford schooling without scholarship. Sensing a kindred soul, Meredith’s uncle had seen his potential and, in addition to mentoring him, he’d offered Ian a paid apprenticeship. Ian’s mother had never once complained about the sacrifices she’d made to support him, which made it all the sweeter when he’d been able to pay the rent on their small flat for the very first time.
Juliette seemed to think on his words very carefully, perhaps considering what it might have been like to grow up less fortunate, as she fiddled with a fold in her skirt. “And your father?” she inquired.
Ian set down his fork as a knife of ice struck him in the sternum. Words would not come at first.
“You needn’t answer if you do not wish to.” Ian’s eyes flew to Juliette’s face when she spoke. The calm warmth there was comforting and welcoming in an unfamiliar way, but Ian was grateful for it. The tension immediately melted from his body and, suddenly, the words fell from his lips.
“He died. When I was a lad.” The sting of it was still raw as a blister, even after all these years.
Juliette’s small, pale hand covered his. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, absorbing the poignant grief in his tone. They shared a moment of comradery only those who’ve lost parents too early can comprehend. Ian turned his palm up and allowed her to weave her fingers with his.
“I was born and bred in the Highlands, like many of my family’s generations before me. The land is beautiful and wild; the people are just as rugged and hardy, singular in their determination to preserve the old ways of life. Unfortunately, the remoteness of the lifestyle means proper medical care can be few and far between, and what little there is, is of poor quality. More than half of it is antiquated, consisting of superstitions and treatments that do nothing.
“My father fell ill when I was younger.” Ian paused, focusing on the feel of Juliette’s fragile fingers on his own, his thumb stroking the cup of her palm. A wistful smile danced across his lips. “I remember him as a big bear of a man with the largest hands I’ve ever seen. He had a laugh like thunder and a heart of gold… Toward the end, he was gray and frail.” The image still haunted Ian. He’d ached with helplessness as he’d been forced to watch the man he worshiped and admired waste away into nothingness; as he witnessed every breath become a gasping labor when his lungs weren’t consumed with fits of violent coughing. “Many people in our village died from the same illness. Young and old were the first, then even the hale and hardy succumbed. The sickness didn’t discriminate. I still believe with every fiber of my being that something could have been done—some of them could have been saved—if there had only been proper medical care available to us.”
Juliette was silent.
Ian looked up to find her examining him, her eyes suspiciously bright.
“This is why you became a physician,” she murmured. He nodded once in reply and released her hand to resume eating to mask the swell of emotion ebbing through his chest. He did his best not to focus too much on the loss of Juliette’s warmth.
She remained quiet for several minutes. He could feel the caress of her eyes upon him, as tangible as a lover beside him in bed. She made his skin tingle and his blood heat several degrees until he felt as if he was boiling from the inside out.
He hadn’t believed his good fortune when he’d bumped into her on the stairs. It had taken all of his self-control to not seek her out earlier, but some benevolent deity must have found him worthy of grace because he had found her when he’d least expected to. Every one of his senses had been on fire since that moment of collision.
The night had been growing only better with each ill-advised decision—when he’d followed her down the servants’ stairs to the kitchens and allowed her to scrounge up supper for him; when, for some reason, he’d asked her to keep him company while he ate; when he’d followed her up to this remote corner of the manor; and, now, when they sat alone together in the dim room, the stars winking at them through the tall glass windows, making everything seem more intimate and expansive at the same time.
She looked stunning sitting there beside him in half-golden candlelight and half-mysterious shadow. Her cream-colored lace gown was elegant in its understated finery, highlighting her luminous skin with its hint of golden glow. He noticed, when they’d been pressed close together in the servants’ stairwell, that she smelled faintly of roses and warm skin, something uniquely Juliette, delicate and enticing. A scent that made him ache with need, his sex unbearably heavy in his breeches.
The entire carriage ride, Ian had been consumed with questioning his sanity. The days since Juliette had stopped by his office had been nothing but spinning in mental circles as he contemplated the voracity of his morals and decisions. And, yet, still, he found himself beneath the roof belonging to the very powerful brother of the woman who had taken over both his conscious and unconscious thoughts. It was ill-advised, to say the least. Reckless and unconscionable, to be honest. But, seated there in the intimate lighting, their legs brushing beneath the table, Ian had never felt anything so right.
His appetite having shifted, Ian set aside his silverware and shoved his chair back from the table. He held out his hand to Juliette, his pulse pounding through his body to a deafening degree.
“Come here,” he rasped. Her beautiful eyes bounced from his face to his hand and then back before she placed her fingers in his and stood.
All rational thought lost, Ian tugged her into his lap and marveled at how well they fit together.
“Ian,” she breathed, her cheeks catching fire.
“Where has the brazen lass gone?” he murmured and wrapped his arms around her slim frame. She had the most delectable shape; he could tell the curves of her bottom were pure perfection even through the damnable layers of clothing between them. A rush of fire filled his abdomen, dripping lower with molten need. She squeaked when he pressed his lips to the pulse in her throat and inhaled deeply.
“I—I…that is—oh!” Her words died abruptly when he nibbled the lobe of her ear, right behind the earring that had so helpfully come loose earlier and allowed them to find one another.
His hands caressed her back, cupped her hip, traced the delectable curve of her waist, ached to test the weight of her breast with his palm or dip to that warm, forbidden hollow between her legs.
