The Officer and the Proper Lady (19 page)

‘If it would not hurt you?' she asked. ‘I wasn't sure. If it would, then it would nice just to be held, I think.'

‘That might be rather more painful,' Hal muttered, earning a puzzled look. Lord, she was so innocent. A least she had seen him naked, that was one less shock, he supposed. Although what she would make of the changes that happened to an aroused man…

He blew out the candles, then moved in, finding her easily despite the darkness. He took her in his arms and kissed her, sinking immediately into the now-familiar sweetness of her response, the scent of lilac soap, the softness of her body as he held her.

Now, without corsets and layers of clothing, he could feel the yielding curves, the lovely line of waist and hip. He let one hand stray to cup her buttock and she gave a little gasp against his mouth, then pressed closer.

Emboldened, he let his fingers investigate the bows at the shoulders of the night gown until, working blind, he freed them so that when he took his hands away and stepped back, the garment tumbled to the floor around her feet.

‘Oh!'

Hal touched her, feeling with delight Julia's blushes warming her breast with imagined rose-pink. Under his palms her figure was every bit as enchanting as he had fantasised. She was small-breasted, slim-hipped, yet so sweetly curved.

Speed, that was the thing, he decided, however much he
wanted to linger. Hal shed his dressing gown, scooped her up and laid her on the bed, coming to lie on his left side beside her.

‘You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.'

‘Liar,' she mumbled. ‘You cannot see me.'

‘I have hands.' He began to stroke, gentling his hand along hip and waist, feeling her belly tighten as he trailed his fingers across it, then up to cup her breast. She moaned, while he caressed her until her head began to move, restless, on the pillow. His right arm ached, but he hardly felt the pain, listening to her, judging the moment to part the moist folds, slip one finger into the tender heat.

Julia gasped, tried to move away, but he persisted until she was lifting herself against his hand again and again and he could part her thighs, move over her. Hal positioned himself care fully, trying to take as much weight as he could on his uninjured left leg, nudging gently.

Yes, she was his;
he could enter, so slowly, so care fully she would hardly be aware. The thought of frightening her, hurting her, made him tense. He wished he could watch her face, but she would feel safer in the dark.

And then the pain ripped through his right thigh, cramping the muscles, making him jerk involuntarily, and beneath him Julia gave a little scream, arching up, rigid beneath him. He was deep within her, her involuntary movements sending waves of sensation crashing through him, beyond his control, beyond stopping. Hal felt the orgasm take him and knew, with the last rags of his control, that he could not keep his weight from bearing down on her.

J
ulia blinked away the tears that filled her eyes. The pain had been every bit as bad as she had feared, and so sudden, but it was gone now and Hal was part of her, filling her. Although she could hardly breathe and she sensed, rather than felt, a deep soreness, that did not matter: the intimacy of their joining was breathtaking, overwhelming.

Was this what would have happened in the glade if Hal had not stopped so abruptly? Was the fear of hurting her what had been keeping him from her all along?

She was not quite sure what was happening now, or what to expect next, so she just enjoyed holding on to Hal, feeling the breadth of his shoulders under her palms, the heat of his skin, the movement of muscles, and trying to get used to the sensation of him within her. His face was buried in her shoulder, his heart was pounding and he seemed to have gone limp in every muscle, so she concentrated on lying still, her cheek pressed against his hair.

Then Hal moved with an ungainly jerk for someone who was usually so con trolled, and he rolled off her body, leaving her feeling bereft. He was lighting the candle, she realized.
When he lay back on the pillows beside her and she saw his face, it was worse. Whatever had just happened, it had not made him happy.

‘Hell,' Hal said bleakly, staring at the ceiling. ‘Hell, I am so sorry.'

‘I do not under stand,' she faltered, wondering if it was her fault.

‘I intended to go slowly, gently, and this bloody leg gave way and I lost control.' He turned his head to look at her. ‘I hurt you, didn't I?'

‘A bit,' she admitted. ‘But it always does, doesn't it? The first time.'

‘It doesn't have to be too bad unless a blundering cripple with no self-control makes a mess of it.'

‘Oh, your leg!' She flinched at his description of himself, but there was no point in arguing about that now. ‘Have you opened up the wound?' Heedless of her nakedness, Julia sat up and reached for the sheet that was tangled about his waist, trying to look at his bandaged thigh.

‘Leave it!' She jerked back, wincing at his tone. ‘I'm sorry. It is fine,' he said more gently, sitting up. ‘You'll want to go back to your own bed.'

Julia opened her mouth to deny it, tell him she wanted to stay, to be held in his arms, but Hal reached for his robe, shrugged it on and then slid out of the bed to limp over to the wash stand. He obviously did not want her to remain, so perhaps that was not something a wife should do. Or perhaps he did not want her to cling or to show affection. She was about to get up when he came back with a towel and a cloth.

‘Here.' He was pale around the lips and eyes. ‘There's blood.' He turned his back while she dabbed and winced.

‘The sheet—' The servants would see, would know.

‘They will think it is mine,' Hal said. ‘I will ring for Lang
ham, have him redress my leg. The wound has opened a little. There is no need for embarrassment.'

‘No, of course not.' Julia slid the night gown over her head and went to the door. ‘Good night, Hal.'

 

Julia sat up in bed, fingers curled around the luxury of a cup of hot chocolate, and thought about the previous night. She was no longer a virgin, but that was about the only positive thing, that and those few moments where she had held Hal in her arms and felt the tenderness welling through her.

Instead of a husband who had not wanted to make love to her, she now had one who was blaming himself for hurting her. He had most certainly not been filled with the desire to cradle her in his arms afterwards, as she had hoped he would, but perhaps men did not like to do that. Her body and her heart ached for that comfort. This was not the marriage she had hoped for, one of sharing and confidences.

She needed advice. The image of Nell Carlow appeared, with the memory of her warm voice and the friendly smile in her hazel eyes. She was so very obviously happy with her husband, and that happiness seemed to overflow into a need for both of them to touch all the time, however fleetingly. Nell, she was sure, would talk to her.

To her relief, the break fast room held only Verity and Lady Narborough. ‘Lady Stanegate mentioned a dress maker and some milliners last night,' Julia remarked when she was seated in front of the poached egg and toast that were all she thought she had appetite for. ‘Would she mind if I called to ask her more about them, do you think?'

‘She would be de lighted,' Lady Narborough assured her. ‘She stays at home during the mornings at the moment, which stops Stanegate fussing, but she will appreciate a visitor. It is just around the corner if you want to walk. Ask Wellow
to send one of the footmen with you when you are ready to go.'

‘I'll come too,' Verity said.

‘No, dear.' Lady Narborough sent Julia a look that seemed to say she under stood the need for one newly married young lady to talk to another. ‘I want you with me this morning.'

Wondering just what Hal's mother thought she needed to talk about, if it was not hats, Julia set out with Richards the footman in attendance. It was not until she found herself seated in Nell's boudoir that it occurred to her that she had not planned quite how to phrase her questions.

‘Hal must be a challenge as a husband,' Nell remarked while she was still composing herself. ‘I love him dearly as a brother, but my goodness, the man is wild.'

‘Not at the moment,' Julia said, crumbling the biscuit Nell had pressed upon her.

‘His wounds, you mean? Yes, I suppose that would slow even Hal down. Marcus says they were severe.'

‘Hal has reformed.' As Julia said it she realized how dreary that sounded. It was not a reformed rake she had fallen in love with, it was the real man with all his faults and foibles.

‘Congratulations! It must be true love if you have that much control over him.'

Julia winced. ‘I loved him as he was. He seems to feel he needed to change, for me. And he felt he had to marry me because I had compromised myself.'

‘And saved his life,' Nell pro tested. ‘You mean he has not told you he loves you?'

Julia shook her head. ‘He said—Nell—may I call you Nell? He
wanted
me, he said, but then he told me why he could not marry me. And after the battle, when I found him, then he said he had to marry me. And now he doesn't even seem to want me either, not like…not in…'

‘In bed?' Nell swung her feet down off the foot stool and sat up, frowning. ‘What has come over the man?'

‘I think he believed that, because I was a virgin and he had lived a dissolute life, that he would shock me. He didn't seem very confident about, um, making love to a virgin.'

‘But he has? You said you
were
a virgin.' Nell seemed wonderfully un embarrassed about this.

‘Last night. It was a disaster,' Julia said and then, to her own surprise and shock, burst into tears.

Another pot of tea and at least three pocket handkerchiefs later, Nell sat back and laughed. ‘Oh, I am sorry, I can see it is horrid for you. But to see the most outrageous flirt I know laid low by virtue really is poetic justice.'

‘But what can I do?' Julia demanded. Somehow her spirits were rising, it did seem possible that there was some hope if Nell was so amused.

‘Why, seduce him, of course. And learn to flirt your self. But first we need to go shopping.'

 

Shopping under Nell's tuition was a luxurious adventure. It seemed London was full of small shops where one could buy the most frivolous, expensive and delightful trifles if only one knew where to look—and provided one had no care for the resulting bill.

‘I haven't discussed a dress allowance with Hal yet,' Julia whispered urgently in Nell's ear. Nell was sit ting at her ease, directing the assistant in a shop whose entire stock appeared to be either transparent, semi-transparent or made of lace. To Julia's dismay, the prices were in inverse proportion to the modesty of the garment.

‘That is very remiss of him, but he should know he must pay for his pleasures. You do not think we are buying these things for your sake, do you? Men are very visual creatures, bless them, and we must give them something to look at. I
think that sea-green gauze negligée with the matching slippers, the embroidered muslin camisoles and the Chinese silk night gowns will do for now.'

An hour later, they emerged from another of Nell's favourite modistes, leaving an order for a delicious evening gown to be ready as soon as possible, and repaired to the nearest bookshop. ‘Racy poetry and novels, that's the next thing,' Nell announced. ‘And I am going to sit here and con the pages of
The Repository
for the latest bonnets.'

Julia obediently went to find the right sections, blinking a little at the choice of titles that her mama would condemn unopened as quite outrageous. They all looked wickedly tempting, and Nell had said they would put her in the mood for romance. Not that
she
needed putting in the mood…

‘Are you having to buy your own love poetry, Mrs Carlow?'

Julia jumped and almost dropped her pile of books. There was the gem dealer from Brussels, the man Hal spoke of with such bitterness and his brother with such hatred. Only now, he did not look like a polite business man; he looked dangerous. Predatory even. Or perhaps she was seeing him in the light of what the brothers had told her about him.

The shiver of sensual awareness he seemed able to produce just with a look from those bold dark eyes trembled through her. ‘Mr Hebden! Are you following me?'

‘What hot-blooded man would not?' he enquired, leaning his shoulder against the book stacks and smiling at her. Julia stopped herself licking her lips nervously and lifted her chin instead. ‘You intrigue me, Julia. Such a very
good
wife for such a man as Hal Carlow.' He was dressed like any of the gentlemen strolling past in Piccadilly, only perhaps they did not show the glint of gold in their earlobe or wear their dark waving hair quite so long.

And their voices would not have that intriguing lilt, even
if their eyes held as much impertinent masculine appreciation. Julia felt her pulse stutter and not, she realized, entirely through apprehension.

‘What do you want, sir?' she demanded. ‘If I call for help, the proprietor will have you apprehended.'

‘He could try,' Hebden acknowledged without the slightest sign of alarm. ‘He would be sorry.'

‘So, not content with trying to murder my husband, you decide to harass me?' Julia watched his face closely. If she had not, she would have missed the brief, betraying flicker in the dark eyes. He was surprised and Stephen Hebden did not like finding himself at a disadvantage.

‘Murder? I have not touched your husband.'

‘Through your agent then.' But she believed him, believed the surprise and the denial.

‘I use no agents. The French had a good attempt at killing Carlow, they did not need my help.'

‘Someone gave it to them, Mr Hebden. You would seem to have an ally—or perhaps a rival—in your campaign of hatred.'

‘It is not hatred,' he said, the intensity in his voice sending cold chills that were most definitely not sensual down her spine. ‘I am the agent of a foretelling—you would call it a curse, perhaps.' He stared deep into her eyes, and it seemed to her, caught in their darkness, that another personality was within him, reaching out to touch her. His voice became lower, intense. ‘
I call guilt to eat you alive and poison your hearts' blood.
That is what is promised for your father in law, for his children.'

‘No.' Julia shook her head in denial. ‘I do not believe such superstitions.' But she found—caught in the web of his voice, those eyes—that she did.

‘You do not have to believe something for it to be true,' he said with an absolute certainty that shook her. But she
would not run, if that was what he wanted, she would not give him the satisfaction of showing him fear. She was a soldier's wife.

‘Tell me,' he said, stepping forward and seizing her right wrist. Julia twisted in his grip, the cold silver cuff he wore chill against her pulse. Close-to the intensity and force of his personality took her breath away. ‘Tell me what happened to Hal Carlow.'

‘Let her go or I will run this hat pin through your ribs,' Nell said, stepping round the end of the shelves behind him.

He winced and opened his hand. ‘Lady Stanegate, a pleasure to see you again.'

‘It is all yours, believe me,' Nell said.

‘The memory of your lips warms me at night,' he murmured, turning with wary grace to face Nell. ‘I will leave you ladies to your browsing. Do, I beg you, remember me to your husbands.'

‘Oh, Nell!' Julia leaned back against a row of lurid romances and caught her breath. ‘He was demanding to know what happened to Hal and denying having any thing to do with it.' She could not bring herself to repeat that curse. Not to a pregnant woman. ‘Nell, what did he mean about your lips? He never—'

‘He kissed me briefly when he kid napped me,' Nell said, sticking her hatpin back with some force. ‘And that is all.'

‘What a relief.' Julia patted her armful of books back into order. ‘He is a very attractive man, though,' she added thought fully. ‘And he knows it.'

‘If you are thinking of trying to make Hal jealous, you are playing with fire,' Nell warned, walking towards the counter. ‘If he thinks Hebden has so much as breathed on you, he will try and kill him.'

‘I just thought I would tease him,' Julia said, handing her books to the assistant. An idea was beginning to form,
although whether she had the nerve to carry it through, she had no idea.

‘Do you require both copies of this, ma'am?' The man held up Byron's
Corsair.

‘Why no. Have I picked up two in error?'

‘No, ma'am. But the gentleman has already paid for this one for you.' The assistant held up a neat parcel.