Chapter 4
Verity had removed her gloves when she entered the gardens, wanting to reach out and touch the flowers and trees, to bring herself back to the moment and to who she truly was.
But now, as she placed her hand within Lord Julian’s, she realized that she had made a grave mistake.
For the moment their skin touched, she nearly forgot all the reasons she had steeled herself against him, why she kept her distance from him, and put up the front of hatred toward him.
Once their hands clasped, she instantly felt that heat sear between them, giving her a choice.
To leave the garden, return to the ballroom, and find her way home, where she could remove this gown and become the woman she always was, the one who liked to stand in the shadows on the side of the ballroom.
Or she could choose to enjoy this moment in Julian’s arms, perhaps the only one she would ever have.
He had promised to be a gentleman, and with the words he had used to reassure her, he had ironically reminded her of exactly why she stayed far out of his reach.
Maybe one dance, here where no one could see them, wouldn’t harm anyone or anything.
She looked at him, meeting his eyes, seeing the warmth dancing in those brown depths.
If nothing else, she knew this man, and she could trust that he wouldn’t hurt her—at least, not intentionally. He wouldn’t hurt her reputation. He wouldn’t hurt her physically. He would never press himself where he wasn’t wanted.
Which was the problem.
She knew him entirely—the good side and the bad—and she still wanted him anyway.
Which, over all of the other reasons, was the true one for holding him at bay, for putting up a front, for hiding in the shadows.
For he had hurt her before, and he didn’t even know it.
Even still, she allowed him to take her hand now, to draw her closer, and to set his other bare hand on her waist while he locked their outstretched hands together. She put her hand on his hard, rounded shoulder.
“Is this all right?” he asked.
She nodded, unable to find the words.
Her eyes came to just over the top of his shoulder, causing his enticing scent to wash over her. The warmth of his skin mingled with the sharper bite of ink and leather, as if he’d been rifling through old books just before this.
It was a scent she knew, one as familiar and comforting as it was terrifying, for it would be so easy to fall into his charms, to let herself think, for a moment, that there could be more to this.
But there would never be.
For no matter how she looked tonight, she was Lady Verity Merrow.
A wallflower.
One who wanted to be overlooked, for it was far easier than ever getting hurt.
Again.
She should have said no to Lord Eastclere’s dance.
A partnership between them had been suggested before. Her parents thought it would be the perfect solution to tie them closer to the Eastclere family fortunes, her father being the cousin of the current Lord Eastclere’s father.
But there was something about him that Verity had always been suspicious of, even if Lord Eastclere had always shown her kindness.
Perhaps tonight showed her who he would truly be if he were actually interested in a woman.
“Where have you gone?” came the rumble of the voice in front of her, and she lifted her head sharply, only to find that her lips were far too close to Julian’s.
She wondered if he was actually trying to fool anyone with that slip of a mask. Truly, masquerades were rather ridiculous. It was most obvious who everyone was, unless they were truly hiding themselves, as she was tonight.
Julian was no exception.
She wasn’t sure how to feel that he had no idea of her identity. It hurt a little, for it demonstrated that he never truly looked at her if he couldn’t recognize her beneath the mask she wore.
But his interest tonight showed that he could appreciate her—if he ever actually took a good look.
“I’m right here,” she said.
“You might be here, but your mind is elsewhere,” he countered. “There’s a faraway look to your eyes. Have I driven you away already?”
“You’ve done nothing,” she said softly.
“Or maybe I have not done enough,” he said, his voice lowering, causing a shiver down her spine.
He pulled her closer, his hand pressing more firmly against the small of her back, and Verity’s breath caught in her throat.
The music from the ballroom filtered through the night air, a waltz that seemed to match the rapid beating of her heart.
Her pulse quickened as Julian guided her through the steps with practiced ease.
How many women had he held like this? How many had fallen for his charm?
And why, despite knowing all this, did she still respond so viscerally to his touch?
It wasn’t just his physical handsomeness, though that was undeniable.
His strong jaw, the warmth in those brown eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled genuinely.
The way his dark hair fell across his forehead in that perpetually tousled way that always made her fingers itch to brush it back.
Tonight, she supposed, she could actually do so without the risk of any repercussions or questions.
She slowly lifted her hand from his shoulder, slipping it beneath that silky strand of hair and pushing it off his forehead, up with the rest of his hair.
His breath caught, as did hers, while their eyes met and held.
He bit his lip, and as attracted as she was to him, she was well aware that—unfortunately—it was more than just how he looked.
For if that was all that was drawing her toward him, it would be easy enough to forget it.
But it was the playful intelligence behind his eyes. The way he noticed things others didn’t. His loyalty to Asher, despite their different paths. The glimpses she’d caught of kindness when he thought no one was watching.
“You’re a beautiful dancer,” Julian murmured, his breath warm against her ear.
“You sound surprised,” Verity replied, letting her hand fall back to his steady, solid shoulder.
“I suppose everything about you surprises me. You seem so familiar yet remain a mystery. You won’t tell me who you are, yet you know my identity. How does a woman so stunning, who can claim the interest of every man in that ballroom, also want nothing to do with the attention she is garnering?”
His hand was moving ever so slightly back and forth rhythmically over her back, his thumb rubbing small circles, causing sensations to rise throughout her body, leaving her wanting more, enough to have her leaning in toward him, until her chest was almost pressed against his.
Her breath was coming faster now, and he leaned down, practically nuzzling his nose into her shoulder.
“My lady,” he said, his voice so low and husky now that it sent even more shivers down her spine.
“Yes?”
“You’re making it very hard for me to keep my promises.”
“Which was?”
His proximity was causing all of her rational thought to flee.
“To be respectful. To not do anything that would cause your reputation to no longer be intact.”
She tilted her face to his, taking in the slightest of scruff that covered his chin.
“Perhaps… respect could mean something quite different.”
“How do you mean?” he tilted his head, his brown eyes searching.
“Perhaps it could be respect for my wishes.”
“Which I thought were for us to prevent anything untoward from occurring.”
“Yes, but…”
“But what?”
Verity bit her lip. This was a very bad idea. She shouldn’t say it, shouldn’t do it… But Julian had always been the man she wanted, from before she was old enough to know any better.
“But maybe I want something more,” she said as they swayed back and forth, their bodies perfectly in time with one another. “Would you be the man to give that to me?”
Julian groaned lowly, almost like a growl. “Are you trying to trap me into something?”
“Never,” Verity shook her head. “Do you trust me?”
“You won’t even tell me your name.”
“And still, would you trust me with this?”
She stared at him, hoping he sensed the sincerity in her eyes.
Their dancing had slowed to the point that they were nearly stopped, and when Julian leaned down slightly further, she knew that she had him.
“It seems, my lady, I am unable to deny you anything you ask me.”
With that, he leaned down and took her lips with his.
His lips were soft, tentative at first, as though giving her time to change her mind. Verity couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think as the warmth of Julian’s mouth pressed against hers.
It was the first time she had ever been kissed, a moment she had imagined over and over again.
And each time in her mind, this kiss had been with Julian.
She was almost worried that he wouldn’t live up to her imagination.
But she was wrong.
He was better.
His hand at her back drew her closer until she was flush against him, her body molding to his as though they were made to fit together.
The garden seemed to disappear around them, and there was only Julian, the scent of him filling her lungs, the taste of brandy and something uniquely him on his lips.
Her fingers slid into his hair, reveling in the silky texture she had gotten just a taste of a few minutes ago.
When his tongue traced the seam of her lips, a small gasp escaped her, just enough for her to open and allow him entrance.
At that, the kiss deepened, changed, became something more urgent, more demanding. Heat bloomed low in her belly, spreading outward until her skin felt too tight, too sensitive.
Julian’s hand moved from her waist to cradle her face, his thumb brushing against her cheekbone as he angled her head to deepen the kiss further.
A soft moan escaped her throat, one quickly swallowed by his hungry mouth.
Verity wondered if anyone else had ever experienced a first kiss like this. The sensations overwhelmed her, made her dizzy with want. His other hand splayed across her back, thankfully holding her steady as her knees threatened to give way beneath her.
This was everything she had ever imagined and more.
The way his breath mingled with hers, how his body pressed against her own, the little sounds of pleasure he made deep in his throat.
If she died now, she would die happy, having known what it was to be in Julian’s arms, to be the focus of his desire.
The kiss built, their bodies pressed together as though it was where they were meant to be. Verity’s heart pounded so loudly she was certain he must hear it. Her fingers tightened in his hair, drawing him closer still, wanting to memorize every second of this moment.
Then—footsteps. The distinct crunch of gravel underfoot came from the path that led to the garden.
Reality crashed back with startling force.
Verity wrenched herself away from Julian, her chest heaving with exertion, her lips tingling from his kiss.
With a foot between them, they stopped, staring at each other.
While Verity was sure this wasn’t a first for Julian, she was so stunned by what had just happened that it was nearly impossible to move.
“Who’s there?” came a voice—Lord Eastclere’s —from the garden path.
Panic seized her heart. If she were discovered here, alone with Julian and forced to reveal her identity, her reputation would be in tatters. And worse, she had made a promise to Julian, for them not to be discovered together, and she never broke her promises.
“My lady—” Julian began, reaching for her hand.
“I have to go,” Verity whispered, pulling away from him. “Please, don’t follow me.”
Before he could protest, she gathered her skirts and fled, taking a different path than the one from where Lord Eastclere’s footsteps approached.
Her footsteps matched the fast beat of her heart as she ran as fast as she could, knowing that, despite its conclusion, this would be an evening she would remember for the rest of her life.