Heart to heart. All she ever wanted was to be heart to heart with this man. Joy shimmered in her as she lay covered by him.
He was hers. Her own wonderful Julian. In a moment he would smile his beautiful smile at her, his eyes alight with the feelings she had seen in them a few moments ago, and she would tell him,
I love you
.
Long moments passed in silence and she wondered what he was thinking.
With a muffled curse, he rolled off of her. Lying flat on his back, he stared unseeing up at the sky. The moment stretched uncomfortably, then unbearably. Izzy began to feel foolish and a little cold with her gown twisted about her waist. She sat up with her back to him and began to struggle into the ruined dress. Her heart bruised more with every moment he did not speak.
Julian closed his eyes in remorse when she moved. He hadn't been gentle. His desire had been too raw. He had lost himself in his need for her and had disregarded everything else, including her innocence. He had hurt her. So very small, she had cried out when he had taken her. His guilt warred with the remaining glow of his own pleasure.
The tightness of her, the sweetness of her body, her freely given passion had been the most exquisitely erotic experience of his life. The intensity of the union almost frightened him. He was forced to acknowledge that it had not been the routine release of lust. Loving Izzy had simply been wholly satisfying, heart and soul.
Completion. It scared the very devil out of him. He would kill to have it again.
He rolled his head to look at her, sucking in his breath at the splendor that met his eyes. Her slender back gleamed like mother-of-pearl in the moonlight, framed by the night and decorated by strands of her tousled hair.
The line of her body was a study in delicate grace, curving from her bent neck to the shadow between her buttocks. It was a beautiful sight. It made him ache inside. He wanted to stroke one finger down her elegant spine and make her shiver. He wanted her. He needed her.
No
. This wasn't need. This was lust, felt by any man for a beautiful woman. A great deal of it, to be sure, but still, simply lust. He had to be sure she understood that. He would explain it, all of it, as soon as he felt able to meet her shining pewter gaze.
He rose to one knee to help her with her gown.
Startled by his movement, Izzy turned her head to look over her shoulder, but she couldn't meet his eyes. Unable to speak first, and disturbed that Julian did not, she felt the bond they had created begin to slip away. It became plain to her that he had not felt what she had. Still, she waited. Her entire being focused on Julian. Her life, her heart, everything depended on his next words.
"Indeed, that certainly satisfied
my
curiosity," he said.
His words struck an icy blow, the chill piercing her heart. Numbly, she allowed him to help her to her feet then silently lead her around the brightly lit house to where the carriages waited on the street.
The night's darkness helped shield her disarray, and he blocked any further view with his body. Guiding her into his carriage, he gave terse orders to the coachman. She could only see his profile as he did so, outlined against the gleam from outside, but the very set of his jaw proclaimed his bland indifference to what they had just shared. Izzy felt ill.
Curiosity
. It had meant nothing to him. She was a fool.
But as foolish as she may be, she was not an idiot. She understood why the women of the ton pursued Julian. Why they followed him, reaching out for a single touch as he moved by. They wanted a moment of that heat, that wild passion in the moonlight.
She had wanted it as well, though it was her heart that wanted him more. He had merely obliged her body, as he had no doubt obliged many others. He must have looked down at them the way he had looked down at her, dark need blazing from him like a physical force.
Curiosity
.
It was as if he had flung the wonder of it back into her face, refusing her love, refusing her. Hurt rose within her, but she would not let it cut off her wits.
"Julian, I left my fan."
He blinked at her. "Your fan?"
"It must be on the terrace. Please, find it for me."
Julian was glad to go. The tension in the coach was fairly choking him. He knew he was supposed to say something, to do something, but he had no clue what to do; he had never felt like this before.
There was no one on the terrace when he approached it. He found the fan on the stones near where he had found Izzy and Eric. It was a shattered ruin.
It drove splinters into his clenched fist when he rounded the house once more and saw his carriage drive away without him.
When Izzy entered her room, Betty looked up from where she sat mending a lace hem. Both gown and needle slid unnoticed to the floor as the little maid flew to her side.
Izzy put one palm up sharply, forestalling any questions. Gulping, Betty nodded and silently helped her out of. the destroyed gown. The little maid caught her breath at the evidence of grass and garden in the folds of the fabric, and placed the dress in the bottom of the wardrobe.
"Perhaps a nice warm bath, miss?"
Izzy closed her eyes in grief. Yes, a bath was definitely called for. While she waited for heated water to be brought, Betty brushed out her hair, discreetly removing more vegetation from the tangled strands.
The two were silent, the crackling of the fire the only sound. Betty's brush moved slowly through Izzy's hair, finding tender spots where Julian had inadvertently pulled it.
A sense of unreality swept Izzy, a feeling that this was a strange dream, and in the morning she would awaken, relieved. Did she wish it had not happened?
It had been glorious, and it had been a disaster. It occurred to her that she was good and truly ruined, now. That bothered her not.
No, she could honestly say she regretted nothing she had done. A lifetime of probable solitude stretched before her. If this had been her only opportunity to know passion, then she was glad, fiercely glad, that she had not turned it away.
She had given herself in love and found that she could accept that. She only wished that she had been loved in return. But, wishes carried no beggars, and Julian would never love her.
It was unfair to expect it, really, she scolded herself. She had never asked him to love her. In fact, she had made it quite obvious that she enjoyed the freedom of being considered a woman of low virtue. She couldn't fault Julian for that misconception. She had only herself to blame.
Goodness, he had caught her in an embrace with Eric! Why shouldn't he think her a lightskirt? For a moment she allowed herself the fantasy that he had been jealous because he truly loved her, then she squelched it, firmly. There would be no more building of cloud castles here. That was what put her in this position to begin with.
When the bath arrived, she slid deep into its water. One advantage of her small stature had always been the relative luxury of tub size. Submerging to her ears, she let the soft lapping of the water soothe her.
She ached, was a little bruised and tender between her legs and on her breasts. And while the heat of the bath stole into her throbbing muscles, relaxing them, nothing could relax her aching heart.
Tonight was an end. Ends were the past, and the past had never been something she allowed herself to dwell on. One made mistakes, and one learned from them. Tomorrow, she would begin anew.
Julian was pacing. He had been at it for hours. His mind kept returning to the beauty of it, the bloody bedamned
magic
of it. Alarm stabbed him again and again, forcing endless movement in an effort to escape its barb. Never before had he felt so at the mercy of desire and need. It had been dark and wild. It had been wonderful. He wanted more.
He sank into the chair before the cold hearth. And what of Izzy? They would marry, of course. Izzy would surely see that the lie must now become the truth. He told himself that, though he knew no such thing.
There was no predicting Izzy. Would she fling herself on him, declaring her devotion? Or would she decry him for his bestial insensitivity? Did she think he loved her?
He didn't, of course. Not really. It wasn't love. Love was just a word. But he feared Izzy believed in love. She must have been very upset to leave him last night like she had.
As soon as his sheepish driver had returned with the coach she had borrowed, as soon as he had pulled up before him, Julian had followed her, and spoken to Bottomly's butler to be sure she had, indeed, made it home safe.
Safe. Her impulse had been correct. She had been wise to flee from disappointment such as he would inevitably provide. Rubbing his face with both hands, he laughed bitterly.
Izzy. The only woman who had ever believed the best of him, the only woman he had ever known who made him feel like a man worth believing in. For an instant, Julian allowed himself to imagine letting Izzy into his heart.
Combined need and panic seared him once more, flinging him to his feet to renew the endless rounds of pacing.
"My lord, you have a caller."
Julian scrubbed at his face and glared at the clock on the mantel. It was early yet, not yet nine. Too early for any self-respecting member of society to be about.
Greeley had refused to use the person's name, meaning it was someone of little importance—at least in his eyes. The butler was as big a snob as any duke. Julian twisted his neck about stiffly.
He was tired. He still wore last night's finery, barring the cravat which now hung from the offending clock, and he was in no mood for company.
"Tell them to go away."
"Yes, my lord. Quite right. It wouldn't do at all, a lady caller alone, so early in the day." Nose high, Greeley had nearly made it from the room before his words registered with Julian.
Lady
. Only one woman in the world would defy convention to show up alone on his doorstep.
"
No
. Bring her in." Running his hands through his hair, he jumped up to stand before the hearth.
Why was she here? He wasn't ready. He'd thought to wait, do some thinking, assemble some armor, before facing her.
He scolded himself. What did it matter? She was just a woman. The day he couldn't handle a woman was the day he turned up his toes. Telling himself that didn't stop the niggling unease, though, nor did it serve to quell the suspicion that he had never manipulated Izzy, not really. Oh God, it was time for a plan.
In the doorway, Izzy waved away the imperious butler and watched Julian silently for a moment. He looked terrible. Some little demon inside her was glad.
"Good morning, my lord."
Julian turned away from the cold fireplace, a coolly expectant look on his face. "Good morning, my dear. I'm glad to see you well. You had me worried." He smiled as if to say that her unannounced departure had been a tiny worry, a slight inconvenience.
Izzy lifted her chin, trying for a similar degree of nonchalance. She could not help loving him, but pride forbade her baring her soul to him.
"I am very well, thank you." She hoped she sounded as cool as Julian did. "I've come to discuss a change of plan."
Julian started slightly at her choice of words. God, but he was jumpy. How can she be so calm? She stood erect and serene, her hands still. She was supposed to plead with him, or to vilify him. She was not supposed to be indifferent to him!
"Yes, it seems we must," he replied cautiously. What was she thinking? Nothing showed on her face, that usually delightfully transparent face. He tugged at his rumpled waistcoat.
She had not been so composed last night. Then she had been molten fire in his hands. He clenched his fists behind him.
She had been afire for certain, but suddenly he was not sure it had been for him. He had torn her from Eric's arms, hadn't he?
It was a revolting thought. He didn't want to believe it. Yet to look at her now, he hadn't the power to inflame her as she had been kindled last night.
"Good." She nodded decisively. "It would be best for all concerned to get the gossip done quickly. There will be another scandal along soon, I have no doubt. If we take care of this immediately, I can be
en route
within a few weeks."
She was leaving him?
Julian turned away, one thought dominating the twisting in his chest.
He couldn't let her go.
"We will end nothing." His voice was harsher than he intended. Izzy's gaze flew to him, but he pulled himself together quickly. "There is no reason to change a thing. Why should we?"
"Surely by now"—she spread her hands—"the danger of anyone thinking it was anything but a simple affair is over. It can have no bearing on your family name if I go. Your inheritance is safe."
His inheritance. Yes. Quite right. That explained the tight feeling in his chest, and the hollow pain in his gut. He was in danger of losing his inheritance. The words came to him in a rush, and he knew how to keep her.
"Do not be too sure, Izzy. My father can be incredibly obstinate. It would be better for me to sound him out first. It may be we need to come up with an alternate plan." He waited, trying not to let his panic show. He needed another plan, indeed. First he needed time to think of one.
Izzy eyed him doubtfully. He seemed so sure, and he did know his father best. Searching his face for some sign that he might want her to stay for another reason, she saw nothing but the slight worry of losing his inheritance.
She walked slowly toward the empty hearth, twisting the handle of her reticule in thought. Simply standing in the same room as him was painful. It would become excruciating the longer she delayed her departure.
Yet she could not desert him if he needed her. What was all this for, if not for Julian's future? The scandal, the playacting of a grand passion for the
ton
?
Only she wasn't pretending anymore, and she couldn't bear it that he was.
"Izzy. It was not well done, last night," Julian said quietly. "You know I am not unwilling to marry—"