“And no wife? No family?” harrumphed the older woman, much to her daughter’s mortification. Any woman of marriageable age knew where this conversation was headed. “Such a shame that a man as intelligent, handsome, and respected as you remainsunmarried. A crime, I say!”
Ian smiled indulgently as he helped her to her seat. “Alas, the opportunity has not presented itself.”
Juliette was failing miserably at both not eavesdropping and remaining subtle about it.
“I find that difficult to believe!” the matron said dramatically, batting her eyes up at Ian. “Surely there are many women who would jump at the chance and even improve your life. A woman of a respectable family.” Miss Finchley rolled her eyes to the sky, pleading for the ground to swallow her whole when her mother plodded onward. “A girl like my Jocelyn has the knowledge and training to run a household; to make a home.” Juliette bit back a smile. It wasn’t kind to smile at her friend’s discomfort, but there was something so comforting about a mother’s incessant, shameless desire to find a match for her daughter. She may have felt differently had she had a mother to mortify her or shove her in front of every remotely eligible man in their vicinity.
“I’m certain any man would benefit greatly from having a woman as lovely and kind as Miss Finchley.” Ian smiled warmly, deftly evading Mrs. Finchley’s none-too-subtle hint with practiced ease. Juliette wondered just how often he’d had to do something similar. No doubt he came into contact with any number of amorous ladies and their mamas; she also doubted not that she was the only one to recognize how attractive the doctor was in both mind and body.
She experienced a rapid rush of warmth when Ian’s eyes found her, sweeping across her in one long, languorous caress so poignant she could feel it on every inch of her skin. Her stomach fluttered and her head felt light. It would be easy to attribute it to the sun or the fact that she’d lain awake for much of the night recalling their interlude over and over again, but there was more to it than that. So much more.
The coals smoldering in his simmering gaze promised something dark and forbidden…something that made her simultaneously tingle and ache. The sensation continued long after Ian had removed his eyes and focused on another conversation.
Eager to move onto the fishing, several of the men devoured the cold-cut sandwiches and chilled wine, picked through the variety of fruit, and then hurriedly snatched up the tackle.
Juliette smiled broadly at her brother, who looked almost boyish as he expertly fixed his pole and pawed through the basket holding the collection of shiny feathered lures and hooks and extra line, along with other implements necessary for an afternoon of successful fishing. The premature creases beside his eyes and between the bold slashes of his dark brows softened and his smile was vastly easier than it was when they were in London and Parliament was in session. He’d always been so serious, so prone to gravity and willing to take on the weight of duty, so it was relieving to see him more relaxed than she had in a long, long while. Ethan worked so hard. He was so dedicated to his political causes and the care and well-being of the tenants for whom he was responsible. Still, he found plenty of time to worry about her. Their days contained an undercurrent of concern and censure. She hadn’t been lying when she’d told Ian about how her brother monitored her and did his best to ensure her health and safety by forbidding certain activities and outings.
Juliette had balked at the confinement as she grew older and less able to participate in things of which every young girl of thetondreamed. All the beautiful gowns meant nothing if there was nowhere to wear them. A carriage ride through Hyde Park grated when, time after time, no suitor accompanied her, and her friends were gradually paired off with matches. She was relegated to the outskirts of the sprinkling of events she’d been able to convince Ethan to allow her to attend. Not once had she been allowed to behave like any other young woman. Ethan played the part of an overzealous guard-dog chaperone and herded her to the chairs with the rest of the wallflowers, all but snarling at any man who dared attempt to approach and ask her to dance.
She’d never danced at a ball.
Not that she’d ever been deemed well enough to learn when all the other girls her age had spent time under the tutelage of a dancing master (and, therefore, she would have made an utter fool of herself in the middle of a crowd)…but it would have been nice to have someone ask. The few interested men couldn’t have possibly known how embarrassed she would have been had they managed to get past her brother—after all, who would possibly consider the daughter and sister of an earl could be lacking such a basic skill of a well-born lady?
During the perfect time of the year when the weather in London wasn’t quite cloying or clogged with soot and the windows of the big houses in Mayfair were thrown open to release heated air and allow sweet, floral-scented breezes from gardens into the overstuffed rooms, music would carry on the breeze and wind its way into her home. Ethan would be at one of those events down the street or across the square, leaving her home alone. Only then, away from her brother’s censure, would she spin and dance, creating her own steps to the tunes until she was dizzy and laughing, breathless with joy and not an illness. She liked to believe the twirls were graceful, that her imaginary partner thought her charming and talented. These stolen moments were her little secret. She’d felt guilty the first few times she’d done it—that she was betraying her brother by defying him and putting her health at risk—but that had gradually melted away.
After all, what point was life if there were no snippets of joy to savor like a secret sweet on your tongue?
A deep male laugh drew her attention past the men spaced out along the reedy shore, focused and intent on their fishing.
Ian.
So much of her life had been wasted waiting. She had been forced to remain passive as she watched a great many wonderful things pass her by.
As she had lain awake the previous night, she had concluded that she was done with all of that; it was well past time she rose to her feet and chased after what she wanted.
And the opportunities smoldering in Ian’s eyes were just that.
∞∞∞
“Dr. McCullom,” Meredith called lightly, beckoning Ian over to the blanket where she and Juliette sat, their skirts gracefully arranged and fanned out around them like halos. “Do join us.”
The women watched as Ian excused himself from a conversation with Lady Morton; there was no denying the way Juliette’s heart kicked up its pace as he made his way over to them. She was in awe of the innate grace with which he moved. For a man so large, he shouldn’t have been able to move with such fluidity…but he did…and she was hard-pressed to look away.
Ian politely inclined his head and greeted them. She noticed he was careful not to allow his gaze to linger upon her too long.
“The folly has some interesting features I know would interest you quite greatly. I thought perhaps Lady Juliette might show them to you.”?“Oh?” Juliette witnessed the fraction of a second where Lady Sommerfeld’s true machinations became apparent to him. She tried not to flush. “It does appear to be quite the interesting bit of architecture. I’d be honored if our hostess would grant me a tour.” He held his large hand down to her and assisted her in rising to her feet. Juliette snuck a surreptitious glance at her brother as she brushed some grass from her skirts, only to find him thoroughly engrossed in his fishing with the other men. One had just landed a respectably large pike and the others were either grousing or congratulating him. Lady Sommerfeld certainly had timed her efforts well; their absence would not be missed and, with the other guests milling about picking flowers or chatting in the shade, it was an entirely plausible excuse.
Ian slipped her arm through his and, together, they meandered in the direction of the folly.
“The folly was built by my grandfather, the Third Earl of Hopesend,” she explained in a tone loud enough that it would carry to anyone nearby. “You can see the Greek influence here in the columns and the—”
Her words were effectively silenced when, as they rounded the side of the building, Ian spun them and pressed his lips and his body to hers, backing her up against one such carved column. Juliette instantly melted against him. Her knees felt like wet sand and her hands scrambled for stability with his lapels. The kiss was strong, possessive, claiming, sending a rush of liquid heat between her thighs to the very spot that had ached and throbbed throughout the long night alone in her bed. She squeezed her legs together to assuage it, but it was useless. The sensations were only heightened when Ian deepened the kiss before breaking away. Their panting breaths collided in the scant space between them.
“That was…”
“What I’ve wanted to do since I saw you this morning.” The deep timbre of Ian’s voice hummed through her chest to tickle every one of her nerve endings; his words thrilled her in unspeakable ways. More of her began to melt as her body swelled with desire. “Have you thought about what we spoke of last evening?”
Her mind moved frustratingly slowly, but she did eventually decipher Ian’s words. She gave a quick nod as her mind caught up.
