he noticed?
“Yes,” he confessed, his whiskey-scented breath fanning her face. His gaze locked with hers and then dropped once more to her mouth.
Would he kiss her? Would she let him? Yes. She would. Worse, she feared she’d let him do very much more. She gasped as his hand came up and fisted in her hair. Then his mouth was on hers. There was nothing warm or tender in Julian’s kiss. It was fierce and marauding. His hot tongue demanded entrance, and she yielded to his plundering. This was not the kiss of her dreams but something dark and dangerous, but her body responded to it in a way she didn’t understand. Her heart pounded inside her chest as if she couldn’t catch her breath. Her legs grew weak and unsteady. He gripped her buttocks, jerking her closer, tighter. She grasped his broad shoulders and clung tightly as if to a runaway horse. Her breath hitched at the sudden awareness of his manhood, hard and hot, pressing against her body. Then suddenly, he pushed her back from him with a growl. “Now do you understand why you shouldn’t have touched me?”
“No.” She licked her swollen lips in confusion. “I don’t.”
“Bugger it all! I’ll sleep in the coach.”
“You’ll freeze your arse off in the coach.”
“Mayhap so, but if I don’t leave now, I may do something we’ll both sorely regret.”
Regret? She jerked back as if dashed with cold water.
“We wouldn’t want my brother to have to call you out now, would we?” she replied tartly. “I’m afraid we don’t have an extra blanket. Take it and go.” She tore a pillow from the bed and tossed it at his head. In truth, she wanted to beat him with it.
“Good night, Julian,” Henrietta said tightly and then climbed into the bed beside Millie, who was still dead to the world. Julian had only desired her because he was drunk. He’d as much as admitted it. She turned her back to him and shoved her fist in her mouth to stifle her sob.
A moment later came the heavy clomp of Julian’s boots on the wooden floorboards, followed by the click of the door. For hours after, Henrietta lay in bed fighting the tears that had threatened to choke her. She envied her maid the serenity of sleep, but that peace of mind eluded her. She’d all but offered her precious virginity to a man who didn’t even want her.
Cursing herself for being ten kinds of fool, she finally fell asleep.
CHAPTER FOUR
––––––––
H ENRIETTA AND JULIAN ARRIVED AT CHESWICK HOUSE in Chelsea just before afternoon tea. Dispatching the under footman to look after the baggage, the majordomo, who stiffly introduced himself as Clemmons, escorted them to the salon where the grande dame awaited, reclining on a chaise longue. Taking skirts in hand, Henrietta dipped into a full curtsy while Julian followed with an equally formal bow.
“Pshaw!” Lady Cheswick waved an obscenely bejeweled hand. “We shan’t stand on ceremony here. Come and greet me properly, child.”
With a grin, Henrietta crossed the room, bent to embrace the tiny lady, and then planted a kiss on her paper-thin powdered and rouged cheek.
When Henrietta stepped back, Lady Cheswick raked Julian over appraisingly. “You must be the notorious Lieutenant Price.” Her lips curved in an approving smile. “I imagine you cut quite a dash in your colors.”
“I regret to say I have recently resigned my commission,” Julian replied.
“That’s just as well,” the lady replied. “The ton is flooded with half-pay officers these days. So what do you intend to do with yourself now that you no longer serve king and country?”
“I have yet to decide, my lady,” Julian replied.
“Hmm.” Her gaze narrowed. “Then I suspect you’ll seek a wife. ’Tis the normal course of action once a young man has finished sowing his oats.”
Julian responded with a bitter laugh. “I must disabuse you of that notion, my lady.”
Lady Cheswick arched a painted-on brow. “Of wife seeking or of oat sowing?” she
“Yes,” he confessed, his whiskey-scented breath fanning her face. His gaze locked with hers and then dropped once more to her mouth.
Would he kiss her? Would she let him? Yes. She would. Worse, she feared she’d let him do very much more. She gasped as his hand came up and fisted in her hair. Then his mouth was on hers. There was nothing warm or tender in Julian’s kiss. It was fierce and marauding. His hot tongue demanded entrance, and she yielded to his plundering. This was not the kiss of her dreams but something dark and dangerous, but her body responded to it in a way she didn’t understand. Her heart pounded inside her chest as if she couldn’t catch her breath. Her legs grew weak and unsteady. He gripped her buttocks, jerking her closer, tighter. She grasped his broad shoulders and clung tightly as if to a runaway horse. Her breath hitched at the sudden awareness of his manhood, hard and hot, pressing against her body. Then suddenly, he pushed her back from him with a growl. “Now do you understand why you shouldn’t have touched me?”
“No.” She licked her swollen lips in confusion. “I don’t.”
“Bugger it all! I’ll sleep in the coach.”
“You’ll freeze your arse off in the coach.”
“Mayhap so, but if I don’t leave now, I may do something we’ll both sorely regret.”
Regret? She jerked back as if dashed with cold water.
“We wouldn’t want my brother to have to call you out now, would we?” she replied tartly. “I’m afraid we don’t have an extra blanket. Take it and go.” She tore a pillow from the bed and tossed it at his head. In truth, she wanted to beat him with it.
“Good night, Julian,” Henrietta said tightly and then climbed into the bed beside Millie, who was still dead to the world. Julian had only desired her because he was drunk. He’d as much as admitted it. She turned her back to him and shoved her fist in her mouth to stifle her sob.
A moment later came the heavy clomp of Julian’s boots on the wooden floorboards, followed by the click of the door. For hours after, Henrietta lay in bed fighting the tears that had threatened to choke her. She envied her maid the serenity of sleep, but that peace of mind eluded her. She’d all but offered her precious virginity to a man who didn’t even want her.
Cursing herself for being ten kinds of fool, she finally fell asleep.
CHAPTER FOUR
––––––––
H ENRIETTA AND JULIAN ARRIVED AT CHESWICK HOUSE in Chelsea just before afternoon tea. Dispatching the under footman to look after the baggage, the majordomo, who stiffly introduced himself as Clemmons, escorted them to the salon where the grande dame awaited, reclining on a chaise longue. Taking skirts in hand, Henrietta dipped into a full curtsy while Julian followed with an equally formal bow.
“Pshaw!” Lady Cheswick waved an obscenely bejeweled hand. “We shan’t stand on ceremony here. Come and greet me properly, child.”
With a grin, Henrietta crossed the room, bent to embrace the tiny lady, and then planted a kiss on her paper-thin powdered and rouged cheek.
When Henrietta stepped back, Lady Cheswick raked Julian over appraisingly. “You must be the notorious Lieutenant Price.” Her lips curved in an approving smile. “I imagine you cut quite a dash in your colors.”
“I regret to say I have recently resigned my commission,” Julian replied.
“That’s just as well,” the lady replied. “The ton is flooded with half-pay officers these days. So what do you intend to do with yourself now that you no longer serve king and country?”
“I have yet to decide, my lady,” Julian replied.
“Hmm.” Her gaze narrowed. “Then I suspect you’ll seek a wife. ’Tis the normal course of action once a young man has finished sowing his oats.”
Julian responded with a bitter laugh. “I must disabuse you of that notion, my lady.”
Lady Cheswick arched a painted-on brow. “Of wife seeking or of oat sowing?” she
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