Chapter 4 #2
One of them would be innocent enough, right? And reassure him enough? Also, severely intimate. Also, a grave, potentially ruinous mistake. But still the best option for the circumstances.
“A kiss,” she blurted before she could stop herself.
Elowyn.
Even her own conscience sounded scandalized.
Too late now.
***
In all his life, Julien had never had the hairs at the nape of his neck stand on end.
Shivers swept through him, swift and merciless, and unfamiliar sensations skated over his body like lightning.
From the moment she once again entered his line of sight, his awareness of her had been supreme.
There was nothing about her he didn’t notice.
The tiny crease that formed between her brows when she was uncertain.
The quick flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat.
Not even the faintest smudge of macaroon crumbs at the corner of her mouth missed his view.
A kiss, heh?
Unbidden images flashed through his head.
He ruthlessly shoved them out, fingers twitching as he considered what to do with this little beauty before him.
Her face had instantly flamed alongside those words.
He had to give Lady Elowyn credit. Her gaze never faltered.
If it weren’t for all the other small tells belying her nervousness, he might have believed her wholly confident in her request. If not for that, he would have laughed at her gall to request a kiss after she already witnessed an attempt to entrap him once.
But he sensed no ulterior motive.
He did, however, sense something. Something that made a vein tick at the corner of his eye. Something he didn’t like. His mouth curled up in a sneer. “A kiss. Is that why you followed Stagbourne?”
Her eyes flew so wide they might have been two twin moons. “How do you know about that?”
“There’s little I can’t uncover when the matter interests me, Lady Elowyn, and this matter, as I’ve said, more than interests me.
So? If you have Stagbourne in your sights, why ask for a kiss from me?
Or is that the best payment you could come up with?
I must admit, I find myself intrigued. What are you thinking in that head of yours? ”
A pinched look crossed her face. “I have no one in my sights. If you must know, I was going to ask the earl to dance.”
Interesting. Julien’s mind raced.
Ask Stagbourne for a dance . . .
Ask him for a kiss.
A wallflower going wild, perhaps?
No. She didn’t seem like a wallflower to him.
A wildflower, perhaps. Wrath’s concern about “rumors” intruded upon his mind.
Not exactly unfounded. This wildflower appeared to be on the road to scandal, too.
Rumors might spark yet. But then, Julien didn’t mind.
Let them speculate. Let them whisper that the Duke of Mandeville was calling on Lady Elowyn Price.
If Dansbury or his niece thought they could manipulate him through scandal, they’d failed to understand one fundamental truth: he’d already survived worse.
Their little schemes were shenanigans. Trifles.
Annoying trifles, but ones he would crush entirely.
“I think I see.”
Her lovely face turned skeptical. “You do?”
“A dance. A kiss. What’s next after those two?”
Shock flashed in the pool of her blue eyes, confirming his suspicion. “W-What? There’s nothing after.”
“Little liar. Keep your secrets but forget Stagbourne. I will fulfill your every wish.” Except marriage. He could fulfill every wish except for that one. However, Julien wagered that was the last thing she would want from him.
She gave a shake of her head. “No need. I don’t have such aspirations. A simple kiss will do.”
Oh, really? Julien bent his head until their noses almost touched. “Shall I give you one right now, then?”
“No!” Her gaze darted to the door and back at him. “Not here! What if someone walks in?”
His lips quirked up. “Then what did you have in mind, Lady Elowyn? As you know, I am at your mercy.”
She blinked up at him before a lovely flush spread over her cheeks. “Well, for one, the setting needs to be perfect.”
The setting? Julien’s brow sprang up. “What does setting have to do with anything?”
She let out a small scoff. “You’re a man so you won’t understand. Setting is everything.”
He couldn’t argue there. “What setting do you have in mind?” God knows, he couldn’t think of a setting that would be perfect. Setting was setting. What did it matter if the goal was a kiss?
She pursed her lips. “I don’t know. I hadn’t gotten that far in my planning yet.”
“Ah, so there is a plan?” And Stagbourne had been in it.
Her eyes flew wide again.
Well, be that as it may, she wouldn’t have to think farther on the matter anymore. Snatching her wrist, Julien tugged her up against him and crushed his lips against hers, taking advantage of her gasp to sweep his tongue past her lips and into the hot cavern of her mouth.
Sweet.
So bloody sweet, Julien nearly groaned.
Had a kiss ever felt so good? He couldn’t recall.
If he had kissed a handful of women in his life, that would be a lot.
None had been this intoxicating. This bewitching.
This disarming. An unfamiliar desire to carry her off to his bed blazed inside him.
Julien fought the infuriating impulse. Besides the obvious—this wasn’t his house, his woman, his right—he refused to be bewitched.
He still couldn’t get enough of kissing her.
Unfortunately, the wildflower witch placed both her hands on his chest and pushed, wrenching her mouth away from his.
Everything in Julien protested.
She retreated several steps, a small, delicate hand covering her mouth. He imagined that hand wrapped around his—
“What did you just do?” she demanded with a hiss.
He dragged a hand through his hair, cursing his body’s throbbing reaction. This had never happened before. “I fulfilled our contract.”
“We never had a contract!”
“No?” His body hardened even more at her fierceness. “A kiss in exchange for your silence. Was that not the deal?”
“I didn’t say I wanted that sort of kiss!”
Julien had the strange urge to laugh. “What other sort is there?”
“A thousand! There are a thousand different kisses, you, you, you haxcomb duke!”
Haxcomb? His lips threatened to quirk. Did the wildflower mean coxcomb?
And a thousand types of kisses? That seemed exaggerated.
And exhausting. In his estimation, only two kinds existed.
A kiss that was chaste and a kiss that was not.
He willed his body under control. “Can you even count to a thousand?”
The light dimmed from her gaze . . .
Damnation.
Julien didn’t even have to read the horror coupled with incredulity, coupled with sparks of rage, to know he’d said the wrong thing.
He opened his mouth to retract his idiocy but the very devils of the earth decided to announce their presence in that moment and in the way of the door slamming open.
Luck. This damn thing. Abandoning him once again.
A perfect setting? What about the perfect amalgamation of the nightmares?
“Zachary!”
The man’s gaze raked over his sister before shooting Julien a glare. “What the devil is going on here?”
Lady Elowyn stepped forward, floundering, “The duke was just . . . Ah, he was just . . .”
“Thanking your sister,” Julien announced for the wildflower. Thankfully, his body had deflated with the arrival of her brother. “As you can see, your sister is still quite in shock by my appreciation, too.”
The man scowled. “I see. And what tough spot would that be?”
“An ill-thought-out scheme,” Julien said without hesitation.
“And just how did my sister help you?”
“Inadvertently, I’d say.” The man was as suspicious as they come. “Even so, I thought it would be remiss if I didn’t express my gratitude. Now that I have, I shall take my leave.”
The man stepped aside.
Heh. Julien strode from the drawing room, inclining his head as he passed him. He didn’t dare glance back. Couldn’t. If he did, his body might riot again. But he could feel her eyes on him. Imagined them too, just as heated as her brother’s.
Don’t worry, little wildflower.
This wasn’t the last she would see of him.