Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
“I believe it is a full moon.”
Julia was startled by the sound of Nicholas Harding’s voice where it had no place being. A habit which seemed to be increasing in frequency this past twelve hours or so, when she had not so much as set eyes on him for months before this.
Julia was seated on the bench, admiring how the light and shadow moved across the four statues at the base of the large fountain in front of her. They were four male gods of Olympus, her grandmother had told her when she had asked about them as a child.
They were named Zeus, Poseidon, Apollo, and Ares, four of the twelve Olympians. The figures had been sculpted with loose clothing covering any intimate parts of their anatomy, but the parts revealed were all defined muscles, giving them an even more powerful appearance.
Julia turned from the statues to look up at Wolfingham in the light of that full moon.
His hat covered much of his face, but what was visible was mostly harsh dips and hollows, and his eyes a dark glitter beneath lowered brows.
His figure, even clothed, looked fully as powerfully muscled as the four statues of the Greek gods.
Which seemed particularly unfair when he lived a life of self-indulgence.
“What are you doing here?” Her tone was accusing.
He drew in a sharp breath, no doubt in response to Julia’s rudeness. Unfortunately, this man made her emotions feel positively violent whenever she saw him, completely eradicating any politeness she might otherwise have shown toward him.
“And how did you find your way through the maze in the dark?” she challenged before he could answer her first question.
“I grew up on the estate next door with my brothers,” he reminded. “Your grandparents were kind enough to allow the three of us to play in their woods and in the maze whenever we were at home.”
“But why are you here now?” Her tone was no less suspicious after hearing this explanation.
“I brought you this— I mean you no harm,” he soothed when Julia straightened her back at the feel of material falling about her shoulders. “It is only your own cloak, to keep you warm in the chill night air,” he insisted when she would have removed the garment. “It was given to me by Hutchings.”
For a moment, Julia had thought— But, of course, Wolfingham would not have removed his own jacket and then placed it about her shoulders. They were not friendly enough toward each other for him to want to do that for her.
“Thank you,” she accepted stiffly. “You may leave now,” she dismissed when he remained standing beside where she sat.
“Do you seriously have a headache or was that just a ruse?” he rasped.
She snorted. “Of course it was a ruse. One I made only because I had reached the end of my patience for this evening of even attempting to be polite to you— What on earth do you think you are doing!” she gasped as Wolfingham’s large hands grasped the tops of her arms and pulled her abruptly to her feet before turning her and holding her in front of him.
“Being as impolite to you as you have been to me all evening,” he grated before removing his hat and allowing it to drop to the bench she had just vacated.
Julia only had time to look up and register the angry glitter in his dark eyes before his head lowered and his lips claimed hers in a kiss that was both punishing and possessive.
She wanted to fight him.
Of course she did.
Except her limbs refused to obey the voice of protest shouting loudly inside her head.
No, instead of fighting, Julia found her arms moving up so that her hands could grasp hold of Wolfingham’s wide shoulders. Not to push him away, she realized weakly, but to pull him closer still.
He kissed her without mercy.
Without consideration for her inexperience, his lips soft, but his kiss hard.
Devouring.
Hungry.
And Julia loved every moment of it!
His arms about her waist were like steel bands as he crushed her against him, allowing her to feel every one of the hard contours of his body. The most rigid of those being the throb of hard flesh between Wolfingham’s thighs.
Julia’s knees weakened when she realized it was the hardness of the length of Wolfingham’s member pressing into the softness of her abdomen. It felt long and thick, as relentless in its demand as he was.
Julia felt a burst of heat between her own thighs, the lips there feeling moist and swollen inside her drawers. Several inches above this was a throb that caused her to move restlessly against Wolfingham’s body in an effort to find satisfaction for this unfamiliar ache.
He finally wrenched his lips from hers, breathing deeply, his eyes glittering like ebony as he stared down at her in the darkness. His hands on the tops of her arms held her steady but a foot or so away from him.
Julia’s sanity returned with the force of a blow now that those firm lips were no longer devouring hers. Along with that return of sanity came feelings of humiliation.
She had allowed Nicholas Harding, the despised Earl of Wolfingham, to kiss her. Worse, to arouse her in a way Julia had never experienced before.
She had allowed Nicholas Harding, the Earl of Wolfingham, the man she despised, to do that.
Her hand moved seemingly without her volition, sweeping up in an arc until it made contact with Wolfingham’s cheek.
The sound of that smack echoed loudly in the silence of the night.
Julia’s gasp of dismay, when she realized what she had done, was almost as loud before she covered her mouth to stifle that reaction.
Why should she feel dismayed when Wolfingham deserved her ire and more?
He stood very still, his face as cold as the statues’. “I will allow you the freedom to do that only once,” he bit out softly. “If it ever happens again, I will put you over my knee and spank your arse raw!”
Julia was unable to suppress her second gasp, of outrage this time. “How dare you talk to me in so crude a fashion?”
His mouth twisted into a humorless smile. “Oh, I think once you know me better, you will realize that I will dare to do many things to you so much more daring than that.”
“Then it is as well I have no intention of ever knowing you better,” she scoffed.
He snorted. “I think you will find you have no more choice in the matter than I do.”
Julia eyed him guardedly. “What do you mean?”
“I am sure all will become clear very soon. For now, I will wish you good night, Julia.” He bowed abruptly before departing.
Had he meant to annoy her further by deliberately using the name family and friends called her?
Julia had no doubt that was the case. But there had also been something else in his manner. Something that almost felt like sympathy.
Well, she did not need that man’s pity. On any subject, in any form, for any reason.
* * *
The Earl and Countess of Ipswich had insisted Nicholas sit in the front row of the church with the rest of Lady Roxburgh’s family during that lady’s funeral. Julia and Amanda were sitting next to each other on the other end of the same pew.
On the long seat behind them were all the local dignitaries, the squire and his wife, the doctor and his wife, the vicar’s wife and daughter, along with Lady Roxburgh’s lawyer, whom Nicholas was told had arrived from London the evening before and was now staying as a guest at Roxburgh Manor.
Despite the austereness of his dark clothing and abrupt manner, the man appeared young to represent such a prestigious London law firm as Masterson, Masterson and Masterson.
He was possibly aged in his mid to late twenties and must surely be the most recent of the Mastersons mentioned in the auspicious company, the previous members being his father and grandfather.
Julia and Amanda, both wearing cream gowns today, as their grandmother had requested, were showing a girlish interest in the austere young lawyer.
The two of them had sent Masterson several covert glances and whispered together before the funeral began in earnest and they’d be forced to face the front of the church as the vicar began the service.
Nicholas had not seen Julia during the two days since the evening they parted so badly beside the fountain.
Deliberately so, on his part. The slap Julia had given him showed she was angry enough with him already.
Far better to allow the day before her grandmother’s funeral to pass smoothly, before Julia had reason to focus her ire on him once again.
Which Nicholas had every reason to believe would be the case.
He had not intended to kiss her two evenings ago when he found her in the maze. But she had been so defiant, so scathing when she admitted that escaping his company had been the only reason she had lied about having a headache.
Nicholas’s emotions had been mixed at this offhand admission. Anger that Julia should behave so rudely toward him and hurt for the same reason.
Both those emotions had made it impossible to stop himself from retaliating by taking her in his arms and kissing her as a punishment for that fabrication.
Unfortunately, once his lips had touched and tasted hers, he hadn’t been able to stop that kiss from becoming at once hungry and possessive.
To his surprise, after a second or two of shock, Julia had begun to kiss him back with the same fervor.
Indeed, if he closed his eyes, he could still taste her, both sweet and spicy. Feel her soft curves pressing against him. Breathe in the heady scent of her arousal. All of which had both surprised and elated him.
In that moment, Julia’s body had betrayed her, telling Nicholas that, despite every verbal insult to the contrary, at that moment, she had wanted him as much as he wanted her.
Her acquiescence hadn’t lasted long, of course.
No, once returned to her senses, Julia had decided to slap him hard across one cheek and so arouse his anger for a second time.
It had taken every ounce of his self-control not to bend her over his knees right then and there, throw up her skirts, and spank her arse. Hard.
After which, he would have pulled down her drawers to kiss and sooth every inch of her reddened flesh with his lips, tongue, and hands.
Merely thinking about doing that now made him hard. Which was most inappropriate in the middle of the funeral for the elderly woman he had very much admired and loved as much as if she had been his own grandmother.
And therein lay the problem.
Nicholas had known for some time that this day would eventually come, and that when it did, there would be no escaping Julia’s wrath. He doubted that this time she would be satisfied with simply smacking his cheek.