“You did miss supper tonight.” She shoved playfully at his shoulder.
“I consider this a working holiday; some of us do need to work for our livings.” It was meant as a lighthearted jest, but the flicker in her eyes told him she hadn’t considered such a thing and was torn between embarrassment and shame over her privileged lifestyle. He rushed to reassure her, saying, “Or I wasn’t entirely sure how I was going to comport myself professionally when all I have been able to think about was pulling the beguiling hostess into my arms and kissing her senseless.” None of it was a lie; not one bit.
It was also the right thing to say. Juliette’s porcelain skin blushed prettily, temptingly. Ian placed one final peck upon the pert little tip of her nose and set her on her feet.
“Sleep on it,” he murmured, standing so he once more towered over her. “I will see you tomorrow for the outing.”
He was mesmerized by the way she pulled her full lower lip between her teeth as she nodded. He wondered if she was trying to find a taste of him there. Ian had to avert his gaze and clear his throat lest his body grow too excited.
“I will bid you good evening, then,” she whispered, her words lost in the close shadows around them. She leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for coming. I—I am looking forward to the coming days,” she breathed against his skin.
“Oidhche mhath,” he said.Goodnight.
Chapter Eleven
“Whoever did you bribe to obtain such glorious weather?” Lady Sommerfeld caught up with Juliette and hooked their arms together. She adjusted the ribbon on her bonnet as the breeze tugged at her playfully. It was a beautiful day—clear, sunny, and warm, though not overly so. Despite this, Ethan had threatened to cancel the outing when he discovered she had planned a walk to the folly by the fishing pond, but there was some deity smiling upon every aspect of that day because he had caved to pressure when it became clear that all their guests wished to partake in the outing. Ethan had bowed to Juliette’s plans with the strict stipulation that she rest when needed and not overtax herself on the excursion. She had bitten her tongue and agreed to his overcautious demands.
The folly was a delightful little building in the form of a rectangular Grecian temple complete with Corinthian columns and replica statues of well-known masterpieces. It was charming in its absurd opulence and provided a lovely point at which to aim a walk. It glittered in winter and provided the perfect amount of shade on warm days. She had spent many a day reading and daydreaming at the small building, watching the clouds drift by and wishing she had been blessed with a healthier childhood and the freedom it afforded.
The folly had been erected by their grandfather beside the man-made fishing pond kept stocked with perch, pike, and other game fish—likely the main draw for the majority of the male guests. And, as Juliette was reminded when she shielded her eyes to look back at the rest of their party, it was only a few minutes’ walk from the main house… She could still make out each window on the three-story building with its horseshoe-shaped layout and honey-colored stone. No matter how much she explained to Ethan that she’d (secretly) gone on longer walks through Hyde Park, told him she felt strong and healthy and there were no problems with her stamina, it mattered not to him. She was adamant that her brother needn’t worry about her overdoing it on this short of a walk. In fact, she had planned it this way in the hopes that he would not object, but, alas, he maintained his poor estimation of her health. She’d been grateful for the pressure of their guests to help push through her plan.
The warm sunlight caught upon a glint of chestnut, dragging Juliette’s eye back from the manor house. Many of the guests had been paired off in polite duos of men and women, but smaller groups had formed as the walk continued. Ethan, escorting the Duchess of Morton, had been joined by Lord Sommerfeld and the group adjusted their pace to accommodate the viscount’s limping gait. Juliette had been originally escorted by her brother’s friend, the affable Earl of Leighton; however, the man had excused himself to put his knowledge of entomology to good use and help identify a type of butterfly particularly enamored with the fresh flowers affixed to Baroness Pole’s bonnet and reassure the poor, excitable woman that it was not, in fact, poisonous. Ian had the honor of escorting both Miss Jocelyn Finchley and her mother, as Mr. Finchley had declined to attend the outing. Ian listened kindly, intently, as Miss Finchley spoke, his chestnut head tilted in her direction. They ambled along, one woman on each arm, and it was difficult for Juliette not to stare…not to remember the way he had held her in those arms and touched her with those large hands. He seemed so much tamer in the daylight, so much less dangerous. But her skin tingled with the memories of the latent power he held in check. How could any woman be near him and not sense it?
“Stare any more intently and even flighty Lord Leighton will take note,” Lady Sommerfeld muttered to Juliette beneath her breath, effectively tearing Juliette’s eyes away from Ian.
“I have no antennae or mandibles, so I sincerely doubt that,” Juliette retorted.
“For what it’s worth,” the red-haired woman leaned in conspiratorially; “he keeps sneaking glances at you, too.” Both knew she wasn’t referring to Lord Leighton.
Juliette ducked her head, hoping the brim of her bonnet would help disguise her growing flush. She was saved from having to reply as their party arrived at the folly. The surface of the pond was like glass, reflecting the glinting white stone of the folly set against the blue sky as a perfect mirror image. Servants had been sent ahead to lay out the blankets and overstuffed pillows, the wicker baskets of food and drink. Small bundles of wildflowers had been gathered and decorated each of the settings. Juliette surveyed the spread, pleased that she’d opted for a more casual arrangement where they sat on the thick green grass rather than asking for tables and chairs to be carted out from the manor. It seemed so frivolous when Mother Nature had already created such a glorious tableau.
“Are we placing wagers on biggest catch?” one of the men called out to Ethan. He wandered over to where the plethora of fishing tackle had been laid out for their pleasure.
“I hardly believe that is fair,” her brother said as he guided Lady Morton to a cushion in the cool shade of the folly. “I’ve been fishing this pond since I was old enough to hold a pole.”
“I’ll take the bet,” another man chimed in.
“Why not?” Lord Sommerfeld said with a shrug. Meredith smiled at her husband.
“Will you join us, Dr. McCullom?” the first man enquired as Ian approached with his walking partners.
“For?”
“A bit of fishing and a friendly wager,” replied the second in an amiable tone.
“Thank you, no. I’ve never been one for fishing.”
“I thought all Scots were avid outdoorsmen,” Ethan said flippantly.
Juliette bit the inside of her cheek. Though Ian’s smile remained unwavering, it did not meet his eyes. She thought she may have been the only one to notice the tautness around his mouth.
“I must have spent too much time in London and cities on the Continent for more rural pursuits,” he finally said evenly.
“What do you do for fun, Dr. McCullom?” Mrs. Finchley asked innocently, oblivious to the low-grade tension.
“I find my medical practice does not allow for all that much time for pursuits of pleasure.”
Juliette barely suppressed a shiver as the word “pleasure” crossed his lips.
