“You know where to find me. If you want to learn more Gaelic, that is.”
His words began to melt her joints all over again. He had offered her an open invitation.
If she dared.
Chapter Twelve
Though Ian and Juliette saw one another at supper and both participated in parlor games that evening, there was no opportunity for them to slip away together. Still, Ian was sure she could feel the heat and the promise of his gaze. He knew she could feel the caress of his eyes as they trailed every curve he longed to memorize with his touch—the recurrent pinkness of the translucent skin on her throat told him so.
Their brief interlude at the folly hadn’t been enough for Ian. He doubted anything would sate this simmering desire growing within him for this woman. As calm and rational a person as he was, he was far from it when she was within his reach. She couldn’t possibly know what she did to him. If she had, then she was a wise enough young woman to give him a wide berth. Instead, she brushed past him in the parlor and stood almost within arm’s reach during the ridiculous games thetoninsisted upon playing at these house parties. This was a dangerous game they were playing.
If the earl so much as caught one of their glances or took offense to a smile, Ian’s career—his very future—would go up in flames. Worse, the ramifications for Juliette had the potential to be quite severe.
Though young, the earl was not a man with whom one trifled. Juliette had told him of her brother’s overprotective, almost dictatorial nature, and Ian had heard more than one story about the man’s temper in Parliament. Juliette had never given Ian cause to believe her brother might harm her, but, having dealt with and treated volatile individuals in the past, it was not always something easily controlled…especially when it came to what they viewed as protection of the ones they held dearest.
Still, against his better judgment, Ian had sat up awake in the chamber he’d been assigned long after the rest of the house had retired. Every little creak of the house settling around him made his nerves jump to attention. So torturous was it that his addled mind had even contemplated seeking Juliette out…before he promptly remembered that he did not know where her chamber was located. He couldn’t very well go knocking on each of the dozens of rooms on this floor and the one above it.
He could tell himself all he wanted that this arrangement with Lady Juliette was purely carnal—that he only wanted to seek her out because he desperately wanted her body—but there was more to it than that. There was more to Juliette than that.
He spent the night seething in patience, his mind and body too distracted to focus on work, until he finally drifted off in the early hours of the morning.
He did not see Juliette until the next morning when he encountered her sandwiched between the Duchess of Morton and Meredith. Snippets of the conversation answered his question as to where Juliette had been the night before. Apparently, the duchess had stayed quite late in Juliette’s rooms where the women had engaged in a voracious debate about a piece of literature; at least, that was what Ian gleaned while trying not to seem too obvious.
Juliette seemed to read his mind, though. She caught his eye when he turned back to the table, shooting him an apologetic look. He returned it with a barely perceptible shake of his head. The last thing she should do is feel bad about playing the part of hostess.
The party had just begun and he had no doubt there would be many more opportunities to be had.
∞∞∞
The day was slated for hunting and it appeared the glorious weather would hold. The excitement was palpable in the buzz of chatter, the nervous tapping of polished riding boots and gloves against palms, the squeak of leather crops being twisted. The men laughed a little louder while the women adjusted their riding habits and affixed a few more pins into their hats. Much of the party, led by the earl, was to take part in the hunt, leaving behind Mrs. Finchley (too portly to properly sit a horse), Viscount Sommerfeld (sullen and grumpy over the fact that he was physically unable to participate due to his injury), Juliette (forbidden from doing so by her brother…and the fact that she’d never been allowed to take riding lessons), Ian (who had never been one for hunting or riding outside of a necessary means of transportation), and Meredith, who would stay with her husband and emphasized the fact that she had never been much good at riding (and, though it was the truth, Ian knew it was more for the fact that she was still in the early days of her pregnancy). All had been going well in that regard as far as Ian knew and he hoped with the utmost sincerity that it would continue to do so. No one deserved happiness and a family more than Meredith.
At one time, he’d believed he could be the man to give that to her. He’d cared for her for many years, fancied himself to be in love with her rather than just loving her with the loyalty and devotion borne from years of friendship, shared experiences, and heritages. Had she accepted him—had he not taken so long to return from the Continent and had she not met Lord Sommerfeld—Ian didn’t doubt that they could have settled comfortably. His income would have provided more than passably for them both and they would have built upon their bond over their shared passion for medicine and healing. But settling was what she would have done. He saw that now with the clarity of a man who’d had his heart broken, or that was how it had felt to him at the time.
There was no denying that he and Meredith cared for one another deeply, but there was no passion there. He’d always been attracted to her, but the same could objectively be said about any number of women. Meredith deserved all-consuming passion, unwavering devotion, and, above all, love, and he was happy she had found it.
For that matter, was it that far-fetched that he might hope for the same thing for himself?
Ian shook off that train of thought, not enjoying in the least how maudlin it was turning him. If life had taught him one thing, it was that opportunities should be snatched while they were available. Tomorrow was not guaranteed, each breath could be one’s last, and all those cliches… While a majority of his time was spent with minor ailments, he did have significant first-hand knowledge of the fragility of it all and had more than his share of experience with mortality. Pondering this very thing lent a great deal of weight to his decision to follow through with Juliette’s ridiculous arrangement. He had spent decades working to live, while she had yet to truly experience life.
Just then, the dark-haired goddess of his thoughts drifted into the library where he’d been sightlessly perusing the numerous titles lining the walls for God only knew how long. He hated the way his pulse began to pound when she so much as stepped into his line of sight. Every one of his muscles contracted in anticipation, some ancient reflex ingrained so deeply he was helpless to it and could only be swept upon the crimson tide of it.
Everything else died away and his vision tunneled when she pressed the door closed with her back and slid a thick bolt home with a click that made his brain stutter.
“My brother doesn’t like to be interrupted when he’s working or in meetings with his solicitors,” she began softly by way of explanation. Even Ian knew there were usually a couple sets of keys for the doors within a house like this; one set kept by the countess and the other by the housekeeper. The deadbolt would prevent even one with a key from entering. “His study has a similar lock. He does not like to be disturbed.”
Ian could barely swallow for the painful tightness of his throat as Juliette approached him. He was sure he resembled a buck in the sights of an archer, helpless to save himself even when faced with a blatant threat to his well-being.
“Juliette,” he finally managed to eke out gruffly.
“Ian,” she replied with an amused tilt to her petal-pink lips. She wore her hair pulled back in several plaits and pinned in a neat coil to show off the tempting arch of her throat. The simplicity of her lilac gown with its square neckline and lace trim was demure and, yet, it managed to drive him wild. Everything about her spoke of confidence—how she leaned with one hip against the high wingback of a navy-upholstered chair, the way lifted her chin in a show of it, her steady voice—Ian knew her well enough at that point to recognize the flickers of insecurity in her crystalline eyes, but he applauded her for the demonstration of bravado. She opened her mouth once and snapped it shut before she decided to speak again. “I thought I might tell you some of the things I’ve learned and get your opinion.”
Ian’s brows rose to his hairline. Of the myriad of things that had run through his mind in the mere seconds since Juliette had entered the room, he hadn’t anticipated this.
“Very well.” Ian inclined his head and very politely gestured for her to take a seat. She obliged and Ian sat on the sofa beside her chosen chair. Though they were perched upon different pieces of furniture, no more than a few measly inches separated them. He was entranced by the way her dark lashes fanned across her cheeks when she looked down to adjust her skirts. She glanced up at the space beside him and sucked in a breath before she stood and, quickly enough that he wasn’t allowed to rise in deference, she plopped down beside him.
“Showing you is probably easier…” Her voice in the last word trembled with the beat of her heart; further evidence to Ian that he’d read her correctly.
“Oh?”
