Page 40 of A Second Chance for Love

Oona closed her eyes and groaned. “I thought I told you to stay inside, Katie,” she said before pivoting to face her daughter.

“I’m sorry, Mama. But I just wanted—”

“You have a daughter!”

Oona opened her mouth but before she could answer Katie stepped forward, her forehead furrowing, her expression mulish—a look Oona had to admit she’d inherited from her. “Don’t shout at my Mama.” She stepped beside Oona and slid her hand around her waist, her nine-year-old body quivering to do battle on Oona’s behalf.

Juss shook his head. “Good God—it’s a little Oona.”

“You shouldn’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” Katie scolded. “And my name is Miss Katherine Anne Parker.”

Juss’s knowing gaze met Oona’s. “I’m sorry, Miss Katherine,” he said, his eyes going back to Katie. “You are correct, I should not say such things.” He bowed, “I am Mr. Justin Taylor, a friend of your mother’s.” He pulled off his black leather riding glove and extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure.”

Katie’s face lit up like a pyrotechnic display at this unprecedented demonstration of male gallantry. She gave him her small hand with as much dignity as a queen and dropped a graceful curtsy, her eyes sparkling up at Juss in a way that said she was half-way enslaved already.

And then both sets of eyes, one gray, one blue, turned to Oona.

“Well,” she said, hiding her fear and excitement behind a grudging tone, “I suppose you might as well come in and have tea. Before you go.”

∞∞∞

Juss couldn’t stop staring at her as she led him into the house, stopping first in a small parlor to settle her daughter at a table covered with pages of childish handwriting.

“I’m going to take Mr. Taylor into the kitchen for a moment. I want you to finish your work, Katie.”

“And then we’ll finish making the buns for the carolers?”

“First I shall bring you a cup of tea and a biscuit.”

The little girl’s eyes were fastened on Juss in a way that was adorable.

“But Mama, I want to take tea with you and Mr. Taylor. And maybe he could help us with the buns—and the carolers?” She gave Juss an ingratiating smile that would be devastating the male population for miles around in a few years.

“Katie.” Oona did not raise her voice, but her daughter complied—albeit grudgingly—to the soft authority.

Oona shut the kitchen door and then spun on her heel, her arms crossed tightly across her body. “What are you doing here?”

Juss took a step toward her and she took a step back. This time he didn’t stop; he kept walking until her back was against the kitchen door, her eyes and mouth wide as she stared up at him.

Juss claimed her mouth with the pent-up hunger of days. She hesitated for a split second—that felt like an eon—and then thrust her hands into his hair and launched her body into his arms, their teeth clicking painfully as their tongues fought, the coppery tang of blood baptizing their violent passion.

Juss’s head spun as he gripped her soft, fleshy bottom, holding her pressed to his erection while he savaged her mouth, Oona giving as good as she got.

Far too soon she came back to herself and pushed away. “Put me down,” she hissed, her lips swollen, slick, and bruised.

It was an agonizing struggle to force his arms to comply with her command.

Once she was at liberty, she brushed off her skirt with shaking hands and then pointed to a small table, her entire body trembling. “Sit,” she ordered, spinning on her heel and stalking toward the stove.

Juss dropped into the chair and drank in this evidence of her lust for him, even if she felt nothing else. Which he simply could not believe.

“Tell me why you are here,” she demanded as she put the full kettle on the stove and then turned.

“I would have been here sooner but it was a bloody miracle that I found you,” he snapped, recalling the frantic, almost mad sickness that had come over him when he’d returned to London to find her gone.

“I looked for you at your dreadful lodgings and learned you’d paid up before even leaving. I went to LeMonde—oh, by the way,” he said, “the thief was apparently one of your coworkers—a woman named Marie?”

She gasped. “Marie? But she was the one urging Madam to be kind to me.”