Authors: Beth Trissel
Pulling him down beside her, she
draped herself against him.
Only th
e glow from the hall revealed
her
, but he
didn’t need to clearly see Julia’s
supple curve
s to know the delights that
easily removed layers of cloth
ing
separated him
from.
His heart drummed in his chest and he quiver
ed at her wordless invitation.
“I sh
ouldn’t take advantage of you.
I’m you
r employer.
Besides, you’re still drugged.”
She push
ed up unsteadily on one elbow.
Luxurious lengths of her lavender-scented hair tickled hi
s cheek as she bent over him.
He
looked into her shadowed eyes,
wanting, willing.
He fought to control the racehorse lunging inside him as she pressed seeking lips to h
is undeniably welcoming mouth.
Everything in him, all the fiery longing of a
lifetime
––
perhaps two
––
surged through him.
Had he wandered the desert, womanless, for ages...or just without this
particular
woman?
His arms closed around her of their own accord and he hungrily pul
led her into his parched kiss.
Just once he would drink deeply from the sweetness that was Julia...let the wonder of her wash through him as he tasted her lips...and then get a grip on himself for both their sakes.
He let his tongue slip inside her pliant mouth and traced her full lower lip, then her upper...maybe
just a little further inside.
Her unconscious response to his tender probing rocked him more than the most seasoned courtesan ever could. Julia did as he did, touch for touch, following his lead with an artless surrender that had
him groaning in passion and striving wildly for
c
ontrol.
She was everything and more that
he could possibly desire, and
he must not take her
.
Hammer that in his head as he might, it wasn’t his brain he was thinking with
now
.
Good heavens.
Was she actually struggling out of her gown?
“Julia
––
we aren’t anywhere near ready for this
––
” he panted.
“Why?”
Had she any real idea what would
follow if he proceeded?
He doubted it and stammered a breathles
s argument, “My grandmother
––
your parents
––
me
being your boss.
Y
ou name it,” he said
, not mentioning the one name looming as large in his mind as another part
of his anatomy
was in his p
ants.
“You could get pregnant.
”
Julia
tossed fluttery yards of
muslin on the end of his bed
,
her expres
sion the epitome of sincerity.
“Isn’t that what your grandmother wants above all?”
Will tried not to gape, scout
’
s honor, and he was a highly decorated Eagle Scout, but he couldn
’t keep his eyes from her
.
“Following marriage
,
to Miss Patterson
.
”
“You’d never
marry her in a million years.
I’m the one meant to bear the next
Wentworth
heir.”
If only that were true.
Off came the sleeveless white chemise, like an angel d
ivesting herself of her wings.
It went the way of the dress, leaving her in a shimmery pink bra and panties.
What
did it
matter t
hat women wore bikinis showing
more? Julia’s satin skin, the swell of her firm round bre
asts, sleek curve of her hips,
was enough to
render him nearly speechless.
Nearly.
With superhuman effort, Will grabbed her hands before she could remove another article and torture him beyond all
endurance.
“For Christ’s Sake
. S
top.”
She lifted
wide
eyes.
“But we’ve waited forever.”
His insides
twisted at her assertion. “No, Julia.
It’s been two days since we met.”
He might as well have struck her full in her vulnerable face, and driven his fist
into her unprotected stomach.
She stared at him, a world of p
ain in her partially hidden gaze
.
“Don’t you want me?” she asked in a voice robbed of breath.
He hated himself.
“There are no words
to speak my want, sweetheart.
But it isn’t me you truly desire.”
She was substituting him for Cole and before Will succumbed to unbearable tem
ptation, he slid from the bed. “Stay here.
I’ll sleep on the couch,” he said, and fled.
Call him a coward, but this battlefield was lined with mines and he didn’t want either one of them caught in the explosion.
Julia didn’t remain where he
’d
left her
, though
.
He turned un
believingly to see her stumble
down the
hall behind him, pale, shaki
ng,
so utterly
impulsive.
“No Will!
You’re wrong.”
Lord help him.
He clenched
his teeth and ran back to her.
She burrowed into his arms and he held her almos
t fiercely.
Her unique scent filled his senses, her soft b
ody so close, driving him mad.
“Wanting you sears me to my
soul.
But I need to be sure it’s me you crave, not some damnable ghost.”
“You’re already in my soul.
Two melded into one
––
can’t you see?” she cried.
“I see an impossibly beautiful girl head over heels
in love with my noble cousin.
And if I have an ounce of honor I’ll not rob
her of
what she’d so willingly give
to
him.
Trust me to care for you, Julia Maury.”
She startled in his grip,
swiveling her face up at him.
Will caught himself
and pressed his lips together, then said,
“I meant
Morrow.”
A
glint of wonder
lit the scrutiny
she
directed at him.
He dropped his arms.
“This stops now.”
T
he ghost of a smile curved
her beguiling mouth
.
“You haven’t won any sort of victory,” he insisted.
She tilted her head
at him
, looking as if she’d damn well come out on top of a skirmish.
“That so, my lord?”
He poi
nted to the open bedroom door.
“March yourself back in there, Miss. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She curtsied, unspeakably
ludicrous
and appealing in her s
tate of undress, then pivoted.
“Goodnight
,
sir.”
“Goodnight, my lady,
”
he indulged her.
E
aten u
p with
desire
,
Will watched her track
away from him in that
luscious
wealth of hair.
It was a no-brainer.
He dove in the bathroom
and slammed the door, heading
for a cold shower.
He’d exorcise this demon one way or the other and not yield to Julia’s intoxicating persuasion until
he bloody well knew about her.
Now, when had he started saying
bloody
?
“Oh
,
my.
”
Julia paused
nervously beside Will in the immaculate yard of the enormous Victoria
n home, now the Marmalade Inn.
Flamboyant cherry roses and purple heliotrope lined the brick w
alk, flanked by green boxwood.
The sweet perfume from masses of flowers rose on the sultry morning air.
She lifted her eyes up, up
, up, to the many gabled roof.
N
ot a shingle was out of place.
A turret
––
no, two
––
jutted among the extravagant peaks
and lent
a strangely m
edieval effect
to the house
.
And, of
course, the walls of
would be painted rosebud pink.
The full-blown gingerbread scrolling beneath the eaves, along the wide porch with its spindled railing, and above the bay windows was
a
sugary white.
The excessively decorated house
resembled a decadent dessert.
Gumdrops and cotton candy came to mind, and
Hansel and Gretel
.
Wil
l linked his arm through hers.
“Come on.”
“I’d rather go into battle.”
A grim smile, and he said,
“You are, and dressed to kill.”
The admiration warming his eyes sent a r
ipple of delight through Julia.
“So are you.” He was as excessively
handsome in that gray pinstripe
as the house was ornate.
The expensive suit fitted his athletic build as if a skilled tailor had
designed it especially for him.
Likely one had.
F
eeling far better armed in this vintage frock than anything she possessed
,
Julia took courag
e from Charlotte’s contribution
.
The off-the-should
ers dress followed the natural
curve of her bust
line
and snugged
in daintily at the waist.
A full
gored
skirt flared to mid-calf in floral splashes of lilac and teal; the short-sleeved teal jacke
t added elegance and modesty.
The
delicate gold heart
Will had
given her
hung from the black ribbon circling her neck a
nd she clasped a beaded purse.
The white pumps were her own, but suited the period look.
Julia
smoothed back a stray tendril.
Charlotte had French-braided her hair and wound the gle
aming coil
on her head, just the sort of
style to meet with Mrs.
Wentworth
’s approval.
Mostly, Julia was thrilled to meet with Will’s.
S
he took a steadying breath.
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be to enter the fray.”
He swept his free arm toward th
e imposing home in a mock bow
and
straightened with
a salute
.
“Hail
,
Caesar.
We who are about to die salute thee,” he muttered in t
he manner of ancient gladiators
.
Flutters in her middle, s
he walked by his side up the brick step
s and onto the deep-set porch.
Ceramic pots overflowing with bright geraniums and trailing ivy bloomed amid
the wicker chairs and rockers.
Several guests sat comfortably reading the Sunday paper, or simply soaking in the wonderful Victorian ambience.
An older gentleman stood graciously and d
ipped his head as they passed.
Will acknowl
edged him with a courteous nod.
Julia summoned a smile and fixe
d it there, a kind
of merry shield.
The door, a work of art in itself with carved panels and shining brass knob, opened without Will lifting a finger.
“Good morning, Mr. Wentworth.
”
A well-endowed young woman in a sleek black gown that clung to every
generous
curve gushed
enthusias
m
.
“
So go
od to see you back at the inn.
It’s been far too long since you’ve visited us.”