“And?”
“And…” Juliette’s heart jumped into her throat, making her speech slower than normal. “And I want everything you’ll give to me.” Ian’s face didn’t move, but she watched the dark pools of his pupils swallow nearly every shred of the gold-flecked color of his irises and his pulse hammered in the artery of his strong throat just where it met the top edge of his cravat, his chest heaved in a shaky breath. “And, before you tell me I’ve not considered all of the consequences, believe that I have. I hope you would not insult my intelligence to claim I have not weighed it all and come to this conclusion.”
“In that captivating mind of yours, what do you view as ‘everything’?” he asked with only the hint of a waver to his tone.
All of you, Juliette nearly said before literally biting her tongue. Her mind raced to find a compromise and she then steeled her nerve to voice it aloud.
“I have never had a suitor—not that I believe you to be one, of course, I’ve no disillusions regarding this agreement—and I see none in my future. You gifted me with my first kiss, my first taste of…whatever this is,” she tugged him a bit closer by the lapels until the heat of his body threatened to engulf her; “and I want more.” Ian inhaled sharply. “I want more of these things I cannot describe. For all the books I have read and words I know in different languages, the words escape me.” She felt her cheeks warm, but she persisted. “I think you like this, too. As Lady Sommerfeld said, you and I are two consenting, conscientious adults who are both in dire need of a little fun.”
His lips split into the most glorious of grins and he emitted a low bark of surprised laughter. “Meredith said that, did she?”
Juliette returned his grin with one of her own. “She did. And we likely have only another minute or two before someone notices our absence. She’s adept at redirection, but no one can possibly manage for that long.”
“In that case…” Ian growled before dipping his head once more to kiss her deeply. Her heartbeat thrummed deafeningly in her ears by the time he pulled away. “Cha do bhlais mi a-riamh dad cho milis,” he breathed, the words as lilting as the breeze around them, as ancient as the ground beneath their feet.
“What does that mean?”
His wicked mouth tilted ever so slightly on the right side before he leaned in once more, his breath hot on the delicate shell of her ear. “I have never tasted anything so sweet,” he translated for her in a husky tone.
“Breugach,” Juliette replied, unsure from where her confidence originated, but proud of herself, nonetheless.
Ian’s burnished brows rose before he threw his head back in unabashed laughter. A pink cloud of pride rose within her. She had done that. She’d surprised him, impressed him, brought that smile to his face. And she’d do anything in her power to do it again.
“I assure you, Juliette, I am no liar,” Ian chuckled and held her closer still. “So believe me when I say you are sweet…in so many ways. And your Gaelic accent isn’t abhorrent.”?“Abhorrent?” she snorted in a very unladylike fashion, but couldn’t have cared less.
“I said it isnotabhorrent.”
“Am I supposed to accept that as a compliment?”
“Take it how you will,” he replied with a smile. “But next time, say it like this…” He proceeded to show her how to pronounce the depth of the final syllable until she was able to mimic it properly.
“There.” He ran his hand down her arm until he captured her fingers in his. Stepping away, he slid her arm through his once more and they resumed their stroll around the far side of the folly. “Better.”
“I made a few inquiries and was able to find a Scottish maid in the employment of a friend. She spoke a few phrases and words her grandmother had taught her, but there was not much else I could learn. You are far more proficient than she.”
“I am impressed by your resourcefulness.”
“Reading the words can only get me so far; hearing how someone speaks the words, seeing how you form them, is vastly more helpful.”
“Has the book been of interest, then?” Ian inquired lightly, turning to feign interest in a column when one of the other guests strolled away at a far enough angle to have them in view.
“Very much so,” she replied, beaming. “It was yours, wasn’t it? When you were a boy?”
He made a small grunt of assent but did not turn toward her.
“I shall take the best care of it and return it safely to you when I am done,” she assured him, but his reply took her aback.
“It is yours,” Ian said with a finality that brooked no dissent.
Juliette chewed on her lower lip, pondering this man beside her. It was obvious the waters of his soul ran quite deep.
“Oh, Lady Juliette!” Mrs. Finchley spied them and wiggled her plump fingers invitingly. Juliette raised her lace-gloved hand in acknowledgement and Ian began to guide them slowly over to the older woman.
“When will I see you again?” she whispered from the corner of her mouth.
Ian inclined his head and lowered his voice as well. “Seeing as how I am a hostage of your house party, I would assume quite presently.”
Her fingers tightened on his surprisingly firm bicep in admonishment. “You know what I mean,” she hissed. They were nearing the rest of the party and the lifespan of their privacy was growing short. She felt more than heard the vibration of his low, abbreviated chuckle.
