The Rake's Redemption (4 page)

When she made no move to follow the others, Dominic stepped closer to her and they were breathing the same air, perfumed by an exotic mingle of flowers. Moonlight bathed his face with gilt, and Juliana felt her bones had turned to liquid and were flowing away leaving her weightless. All of her excitement, her emotional response to the music, had to come from her decision to go forward with her life. It couldn’t have anything to do with being alone in the moonlight with the marquis.

“The music was … lovely, wasn’t it?” she breathed, forcing herself to speak.

“Lovely … yes,” he whispered languorously, lifting her hand, turning it over to brush the inside of her wrist with his lips. He raised his eyes to her face and she met his look openly. What he saw there curled his mouth into a smile, and he twined their fingers together leading her deeper into the night garden.

Willingly she followed him into the shadows, captivated by the tenderness in his voice, the softness of his lips on her wrist, the gypsy music lingering at the edge of her consciousness. She could touch now the excitement she had felt earlier. It was here at her fingertips.

They turned a corner on the pathway and were before the brick wall that protected the little garden. Dominic stopped, turning her to him, his face starkly beautiful in the moonlight. Slowly he raised his hands, twining his fingers deeply into the curls resting on her shoulders, and whispered her name. “Juliana.”

The rich timbre of his voice saying her name evoked a memory, a cherished memory of Will saying her name with that same longing. And with that memory came the desire to feel again those feelings that Will had awakened in her. But she knew these yearnings were different; she had changed and this man was not her beloved Will. The feelings he evoked were not of a comfortable secure love, but of a turbulent passion that could pull her over an edge into unknown depths of emotion. But it seemed right, a natural part of this night and this place to tilt her head back to gaze up at him. His eyes flashed sapphire lights, igniting the fires of excitement so they burned within her. A whisper of fear sent a chill down her arms. His hands settled on her shoulders, propelling her gently into the warmth of his embrace. Juliana knew she ought not to close her eyes, but she did anyway. She could feel his mouth hovering above hers, warming her lips, stroking them with his sweet, wine-scented breath before slowly they touched.

I shouldn’t be doing this, her mind flashed a warning, but it had been too long since she had been kissed, so Juliana quieted that voice, pleading for just one more moment. One more moment to feel this strange delight. Her hands went up to his chest to feel the strong steady beat beneath his jacket. It quickened slightly when his lips pressed hers again, more urgently this time. Cool and dry, his searching lips taught her a lesson that had long been hidden from her.

“Juliana … so soft, so perfect,” that enchanting voice whispered. His finger gently caressed her cheek and she slowly opened her eyes.

It was not like Will at all. It was like no feeling Will had ever evoked, not even during his careful, gentle lovemaking. This man took possession with one kiss as sweet, gentle Will never had in their month of marriage.

The slamming of a door brought Juliana out of her daze. Light flashed along the path and a brisk step broke them apart.

“Your lordship?” Mrs. Forbes’s voice shattered the spell. “Bring the young miss in. The night air will bring an inflammation of the lung. Hurry now.”

Turning back the way they had come, Dominic’s arm encircled her waist and she leaned against him following Mrs. Forbes’s retreating back. The heady perfume of night-blooming jasmine overpowered all the other scents in the garden. The air was heavy with it, pressing against her. The path seemed uneven now, and she stumbled slightly, but was caught firmly in his strong arms.

She needed to say something to him, needed to understand what was happening, but was unsure of what she wanted to know. Nevertheless she tilted her head against her shoulder, whispering, “Dominic…”

He placed two fingers over her parted lips. “In the morning … Juliana. We will talk in the morning.”

She tried to blame these feelings on the excitement of the trip to London and the anticipation she felt. She tried to blame her sudden eagerness for life on the romantic atmosphere created by Robbie’s violin. She tried to blame those moments of madness in the garden on the moonlight: any reason, any other reason than the marquis himself. But she could not deny that Dominic Crawford, Marquis of Aubrey, was the reason she had not slept. His fingers pressing hers, his arms enfolding her, his lips caressing hers, awakening a new joy, freeing a flood of emotion she had thought locked away forever. He had understood, she had seen it in his eyes. And when he had said they would talk in the morning, she knew he, like she, was unable to break the spell around them. That he, like she, needed time to consider the strange affinity between them.

Somewhere in the distance a cock crowed. Everyone would be awake soon. She would once again see the marquis. The thought both frightened and pleased her. Juliana was not sure which emotion was stronger.

The cock crowed and Dominic stretched languidly under the down coverlet. Another sleepless night. But instead of the dreams of Culter Towers that left him drenched in sweat, or tossing in blinding fury, or full of painful longing for his father and what once had been, his dreams had brought a longing for her. At last a woman he might trust. A woman like the one woman he had carried in his soul since that night on the Peninsula when a soldier spent his dying moments painting word pictures of his young wife at home. In spite of the years of corruption or perhaps because of them, Dominic had cherished that vision and idealized that woman until she became the unattainable goddess all young men yearn for. But he was no longer a young man who believed in dreams. They had all died for him and Jules in one night at Culter Towers.

Juliana had for a moment wiped away the pain of that night. And she had offered him hope for the future. He had seen it in her eyes, reflecting the brilliance of the moon, softening under his touch. He had felt it, when her hands so shyly had crept to his chest, no coyness, but instead a wonder of recognition in their touch. For the first time the wall he had built around himself had not protected him; Juliana had touched his heart.

But the years of corruption had taught him to beware, and those years intervened now, warning him to go slow, to be sure. This morning he would see her again and perhaps the cold light of day would temper the hope coursing through him. Yes, carefulness was the tack.

Breakfast, anticipated so anxiously by Juliana and Dominic, passed in the same congenial fashion as the day before. The constraint that had made her fainthearted when she entered the small private parlor slowly disappeared as she listened to Freddie again complaining about Timmings’s absence. How silly she had been to suffer through such a long, sleepless night! Dominic, too, was the same charming man who had rescued them two days ago.

He treated her with consideration and reserve, if she thought his eyes deepened when they looked at her, if she imagined the lines had softened around his mouth, then that was all a hum. After all, he was a great lord and had probably kissed many girls in the moonlight. Aunt Sophia had at least warned her about that. Nothing had changed except in Juliana’s mind. Obviously the accident and Dominic in the garden had affected her more strongly than it should have. After all, she was not a miss suffering her first kiss in the moonlight either! She did not know what she had expected this morning, but it was not this pretense, so artfully done, that nothing had happened between them last night.

But perhaps he was right. It was only a kiss. She would never allow herself to acknowledge the truth. New and frightening emotions were now a part of her world, and they had been born in the marquis’s arms.

Juliana determined to put this confusion behind her by staying well out of the marquis’s path, until a sudden spring thunderstorm kept them all indoors after luncheon. When Sophia suggested they play a hand of whist, Freddie, grinning widely, hastily produced playing cards and placed four chairs around the small square table in the private parlor.

“You have found the way to Freddie’s heart, Sophia,” joked the marquis, looking at his friend with amusement. “If the London belles used your method, then perhaps one of them could bring him up to snuff.”

“Bring him up to snuff?” Sophia inquired innocently. “Lord Liscombe is still unwed?”

“Good God, ma’am, I should say, indeed!” declared Freddie in horrified tones.

The marquis looked at Sophia’s blank face in admiration. “I also share Freddie’s sad plight,” he murmured.

Sophia’s dimple appeared and she had the grace to look slightly embarrassed.

Juliana was mortified. Her aunt had been uncharacteristically forward and Dominic obviously knew what was on her mind. Brooding in her own miserable confusion, Juliana had forgotten her aunt’s interest in Dominic and his matrimonial status. She certainly hoped he was not conceited enough to imagine that his eligibility was of the slightest interest to her! Especially after allowing him to kiss her. Of course, with his looks women had no doubt been throwing themselves at his feet for years, so it could not be wondered at if he had a terribly swelled head.

His shapely head appeared to be just the right size and attached firmly to his broad shoulders; he played whist with the same sangfroid she had first noticed about him. Only in the garden last night had it seemed to slip.

Nevertheless Juliana found him an entertaining partner and an astute player, and she had played since she was old enough to count. Her father had often asked her to fill a table once he discovered she had a good memory and a quick mind.

She was blissfully unaware that Dominic was making a careful effort to please and to keep the atmosphere in the inn relaxed and informal.

Freddie, however, had not been fooled. Amused, he had taken Dominic aside earlier. “Dom, never seen the master rake at work in this style before. Surprised at the gentle tone of your flirtation. If I didn’t know you better, think the lovely Juliana had caught your fancy.”

Dominic had shrugged it off then, but truth to tell he didn’t quite understand himself the reasons for his uncharacteristic behavior.

Glancing over the rim of his cards, he caught Juliana staring intently at her hand while her small white teeth raked her full lower lip. In the garden when he had succumbed to the need to take her in his arms and taste the sweetness of those lips, he had been unprepared for the depth of emotion she stirred in him. So stirred, he admitted ruefully, that he had retreated back behind his walls of defense. He had been told too many times for it to hold any meaning that his charm was lethal, but he sensed that Juliana had not fallen victim to it in the usual fashion. Careful, my lord marquis, he mused, you are dangerously close to falling victim to her charm. Looking at her lovely face, the soft cheeks slightly flushed with excitement, and having the dreary afternoon lightened by the musical, rippling sound of her laughter when she found the right card, caused Dominic, connoisseur of beautiful but heartless women, to want to believe that perhaps he had been wrong, that despite the past a woman could be trusted.

Juliana glanced up at exactly that moment, and the expression in Dominic’s eyes caused her to cease thinking for an instant as if someone had doused her with ice-cold water. She was so bemused she did not notice the commotion coming from the hallway until the door burst open. Only then could she tear her gaze away from the marquis’s face.

The loud argument in the hallway shattered their peace and privacy, when a corpulent woman, wearing a voluminous red cape glistening with raindrops, pushed open the door and disdainfully scanned the room. “I told you so, Charlotte! I just knew that was the Vane carriage in the Wainwright’s yard as we passed!”

Sophia gasped and fell back in her chair. “Good God! It is Lady Grenville and Charlotte!”

Lady Grenville’s protuberant eyes darted around the room taking in all of the occupants until coming to rest firmly on Sophia’s face. “What is the meaning of this, Sophia?” Shifting her gaze to Juliana, she puffed her heaving bosom even higher. “And you! You should know better! A member of my own family alone in an inn parlor with these … these … men! Have you an explanation for this outrage?”

Dominic, resigned to the loss of this idyll, smiled quite naturally before stepping forward. “Ma’am, I am the Marquis of Aubrey. May I be of service?”

Lady Grenville’s face turned an unhealthy crimson before she screeched at the top of her lungs. To everyone’s shock, she cast herself into Dominic’s arms. He staggered only slightly under her considerable weight.

“Dominic, my dear, dear boy!” she boomed only a bare inch below his right ear. His magnificent blue eyes flickered once as she continued to embrace him before tearing herself away to grasp the arm of the tall, slender, fair girl standing behind her. “Charlotte, come meet your cousin Dominic!”

Her flushed face beaming, Lady Grenville gave a breathy cry of delight when her daughter, in a spring muslin with a flounce of blond lace at the hem, walked forward. “I barely recognized you!” she continued loud enough for the postboy to hear. “You have changed so since we last met at Culter Towers.”

Dominic’s brows went up, but he gave no other sign of surprise, merely bowing over Charlotte’s hand, saying, “How do you do, Miss Grenville. May I introduce Lord Freddie Liscombe.” Smiling, he looked at Juliana and she moved to his side. “Of course, Juliana is known to you.” Dominic glanced around at Sophia who seemed rooted to her chair. “Sophia, are you all right?” asked the marquis gravely.

“How could I not have seen it?” Aunt Sophia stood and stared at him. “You are the Duke of Culter’s grandson!”

“Of course, he is dear Austin’s grandson,” Lady Grenville said, a haughty look descending upon her chubby features. “I am quite sure you have heard me mention their graces many times these past four years!”

“Many, many times,” Aunt Sophia muttered, and Dominic’s lips twitched appreciatively when she brushed pass him to place two warm kisses on both of Charlotte’s pale cheeks.

Juliana stole a glance at the marquis. He endured a stilted conversation with Lady Grenville, whom he was assisting to a low couch beside the fireplace, when she admitted a slight faintness at discovering her dear cousin Dominic so unexpectedly.

Propping one broad shoulder against the wooden mantel, he apologized for not recognizing her, since he had only been an infant of nine months upon the occasion of her last visit to Culter towers.

He smiled across the small, cozy parlor at Juliana sharing the joke. She felt warmth flush her cheeks, but unconsciously she lifted her chin when she met a steely stare from beneath Lady Grenville’s thin brows.

“I see you have already made the acquaintance of our neighbors,” Lady Grenville said in a brittle voice. “Juliana is the widow of Will Grenville, the late Sir Timothy’s only son.” Twittering in a breathless little voice, her tight mouth twisted in a sly smile. “The Willows belongs to Sir Alfred and me now, you know.”

Deep within him Dominic’s heart gave one strong stroke as if on an anvil. Will Grenville’s bride? The woman he had idealized from all the stories he had heard around the camp fire. This was her, that picture of perfection that Will had drawn while he lay dying in Dominic’s arms? It couldn’t be! Jealousy rose like bile in his throat. She had belonged to someone else. Why had she led him to believe she was a Thatcher? If only he had known she was Will Grenville’s bride, he never would have kissed her—never would have violated the memory of Will calling for his beloved Ju. The man Dominic had become did not deserve such a woman.

If she had not been so aware of him, Juliana would have missed the change that came over Dominic. One instant he was propped against the mantel, long legs braced apart, watching her with apparent delight, and a moment later those wonderful eyes somehow lacked their previous warmth and, although his expressive lips still smiled, there was a difference—the smile was distant and strained.

“My condolences, Juliana.”

He spoke in a gentle voice that held a trace of something she couldn’t quite recognize, but it made her reply terse.

“Thank you.”

Freddie shook his head, a wrinkle creasing his brow. “Will Grenville … I knew him on the Peninsula, remember Dominic? Nice young chap with the unruliest mop of ebony curls I’ve ever seen.”

Juliana’s eyes flew to Freddie’s face. “You were on the Peninsula?”

“We both were. Dominic was a part of Wellington’s family. General staff you know. Mentioned twice in the dispatches. I had no such luck, being sent home before Badajoz with a fever.”

“Yes,” Juliana nodded, the tightness in her throat causing her voice to break a little. “Will died at Badajoz six years ago.”

Where was the teasing, affectionate consideration that Dominic had given her so freely and effortlessly since they first met? And something more that she refused to put a name to? He appeared like a man preoccupied with a longing to be elsewhere, but too well-bred to appear bored. It was not her imagination, for Freddie looked so decidedly uncomfortable he ran one finger around his high shirt collar, and Sophia’s serene gray eyes held a look of curious concern.

“Come, Mama. Let us freshen ourselves,” Charlotte suddenly spoke, moving to her mother’s side.

Lady Grenville was totally unaware of the strange tensions in the room, for she opened her mouth to protest, but Charlotte got a firm grip on her arm, and with a cool nod to both gentlemen, led her protesting parent away.

“Did you see that!” Freddie breathed in an astonished voice. “Girl hasn’t said a word since she walked in the door. Now she’s ordering her mother about!”

“Charlotte is a young woman of few words,” Sophia said calmly, her eyes still studying Dominic’s stony profile. “But her timing is flawless.”

Several hours later, the marquis steadied his grays as they sprang forward after a brief stop at the last tollgate on the London road. The twilight was gone and a strong breeze brought the smell of dirt and the damp chill of spring.