The Viscount's Rose (The Farthingale Series Book 5) (14 page)

“With pleasure.” He tossed his brother back into the pond and grinned when the little pest landed with a yelp and a loud splash. Rose picked up the fish his brother had dropped and tossed it back into the water. “The poor little thing was flailing on the ground. I couldn’t let it die.”

He was still staring at her as she stood beside him when Callum began to splash him with a vengeance, soaking them both.

Rose gasped, but instead of scolding Callum, she laughingly kicked off her slippers and hiked her muslin gown up to her knees, revealing long, slender legs. “You’ll get yours, you dastardly pirate,” she teased and began to wade into the water after the boy.

Julian stood ready to intercede if his brother forgot she was a girl and played too rough, but it wasn’t necessary now. In any event, he liked Rose’s unaffected playfulness and wasn’t keen on reminding her that debutantes were not supposed to do this sort of thing. As he stood watching, his other siblings, including Nicola, followed Rose into the pond and did a commendable job of dousing Callum.

“Come in, Julian,” Robert called to him. “The water’s delightful.”

“I’m quite comfortable where I am.” But he took a step back from the shore as the menacing young horde began to approach. They’d grown bored with dunking Callum and obviously intended to turn their aim on him.

He was up for the challenge. After quickly removing his boots, jacket, and cravat, he waded in with a roar that quickly had all his siblings hooting and shrieking. He dunked his brothers, but took extra care to be gentle with his sisters, especially Emily. She wanted so badly to participate, but she was little and delicate and would get hurt if he and the boys played too rough.

He needn’t have worried. Rose purposely stayed close enough to lift Emily into her arms and hold her protectively whenever they came too close.

Lord, did the girl have a fault?

If so, he had yet to find it.

As the children grew hungry, they all piled out of the water. The boys took off their shirts and set them in a sunny spot on the grass to dry. The younger girls took off their dresses and remained in their undergarments. However, that possibility was not available to Nicola or Rose, so they merely wrung out their wet hems and stood in the sun, hoping their gowns would dry while on their bodies.

He tried not to gawk at Rose, but she looked spectacular and he couldn’t help himself. Her hair had taken a good soaking and now tumbled wet and wild down her back. Her gown clung to her every outrageous curve. She still had it raised to her knees while wringing the moisture out of it, but for the sake of modesty she had tried to hide behind some low shrubs so that no one would notice her exposed legs. He’d noticed, of course.

Hell, yes.
He’d noticed.

He’d seen her breasts last night and already knew they were stunning.

Her legs were too, living up to their delightful promise.

“Julian, you’ll catch cold if you don’t dry off,” Nicola chided. “At least take off your shirt and spread it in the sun beside the others.”

He glanced at Rose, who still had her backside to him while she fussed with her gown.

Nicola grinned. “She won’t mind. I’ll warn her not to look. It isn’t as though any of us is the model of propriety anyway. Undisciplined little savages is what grandfather used to call us, remember?”

“Ah, quite well. I suppose you’re right.” They were far from the London gossips and any local prying eyes, so he took off his shirt and wrung it out, then placed it next to those of his brothers.

He’d just spread it out when Nicola—his ever helpful sister—called out to Rose. “Whatever you do, don’t look at Julian. He isn’t decent.”

Of course, she turned and gazed straight at him.

Her light gasp carried toward him on the summer breeze. Her cheeks turned crimson. She was barefoot and still had her gown raised to her knees as she began to stumble backwards, straight into another row of low-lying shrubs. She tripped and fell back into the shrubs, her long, slender legs exposed and flailing in the air as she struggled in vain to right herself. “Damn it, Nicola.” He glowered at his smirking sister. “You’re a bloody nuisance.”

He hurried forward and lifted Rose into his arms to carry her out of the prickly shrubs. “Are you hurt?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and held tightly onto him. “No, so stupid of me. I hadn’t expected you to… and you’re not… wearing… you know.”

“As long as you’re unharmed.” He meant to put her down, but his arms chose that moment to wage a mutiny against his brain and refused to take instruction.

Rose sighed. “You have no shirt on.”

“It was wet.”

“Your skin’s still damp. Golden and warm. Julian, you had better put me down before I do something very foolish.” She peeked over his shoulder. “We’re setting a most improper example for the children.”

He followed her gaze. The boys were still chasing Emily and Kendra, this time with worms. “I doubt they’re paying any attention to us. Besides, there’s never been anything proper about you and me together. Need I remind you? That’s why I have to leave. I can’t even keep my hands off you during an innocent family picnic.”

She smiled. “I’m having the same difficulty.”

He set her down abruptly. “Don’t tell me that. One of us has to be sensible.”

Rose appeared to mull his warning. “It won’t be me, I’m afraid. You muddle my heart whenever you’re close. So I’ll have to designate you as the one to keep his wits firmly in place. Besides, you told my mother you’d protect me. I assume it extends to protecting me from the likes of you as well.”

“Damn it, Rose. Of course it does. That’s why I have to leave right after supper.”

She nodded. “I’m beginning to think you’re right. However, there’s something I don’t understand.”

He arched an eyebrow. “What?”

“How can you look at me the way you do if you’re supposed to be in love with Countess Deschanel? And if you do love her, then why are you so eager to kiss me?”

Rose never received
an answer to her perfectly logical question, for the girls chose that moment to run to Julian begging for protection from their tormenters. He calmed down his younger sisters, scowled at Nicola, and in a very authoritative and viscount-like tone, ordered his brothers to spread a blanket on the grass under one of the chestnut trees beside the pond so they could all sit in shady comfort and eat. Since Emily was rubbing her eyes and complaining that she wasn’t hungry, Julian asked her governess to escort her back to the cottage. Emily must have been tired, for she yawned and went along without protest.

A short while later, a line of servants carrying a table, table linens, plates, and silverware strode toward them. As soon as the table was set, Julian began to forage through the large straw basket containing their “simple” repast that now rested atop it. “Ah, good. Wescott thought to include a bottle of wine.”

Julian reached into the basket and withdrew the bottle, making a show of holding it up for inspection in the sunlight. “What’s wrong?” Nicola asked when he continued to hold it up to the light and frowned.

He shrugged. “Color’s a little off.”

Nicola rolled her eyes and flashed Rose a conspiratorial glance before turning to her brother and giving him the sweetest smile.
Oh dear
. Was there a new conspiracy that she ought to be aware of? “I’m sure it’s just a trick of the sunlight,” Nicola said. “May we have some, Julian?”

He glanced over his shoulder at her and frowned again. “No. There’s lemonade for you.”

Nicola pretended to pout. “But Rolf and I are out in society now. Surely—”

“No. I’ll admit Grandfather’s complaint was well founded, for we have indeed descended into savagery.” He stared at his brothers, who were now hanging upside down on one of the sturdier tree branches trying to catch fireflies with their tongues. He uncorked the bottle. “But to have you and Rose drunk, too? That’s a recipe for disaster. I don’t think so.” He ignored the crystal glassware Wescott had also neatly packed and took a swig straight from the bottle.

Rose liked the way the muscles rippled along his taut chest whenever he moved. She wished that she could touch him and feel his sinewed strength beneath her palms. His skin was golden, as though he’d spent a bit of time in the sun without a shirt, but there were also a number of thin lines of white and a few puckered pink lines on his arms, back, and chest that revealed scarring. One or two might have been from boyish misadventures. The others, she suspected, were acquired on the field of battle.

Her heart tightened in remorse. He was brave and heroic, so how could she and his family punish him by keeping him away from the woman he loved… assuming he loved the countess? Rose wasn’t quite convinced that he did.

Drat!
Why did love have to be so confusing?

He raised the bottle to take another hefty swallow and she used the opportunity to study his torso. He was quite the appealing specimen, she decided, closing her eyes a moment to trace the outline of his body in her mind. His stomach was flat and sensually lean while his shoulders were broad and muscular. His legs were long, and he had nicely shaped, firm thighs. In truth, all of him was firm and nicely shaped.

He shifted toward her as she opened her eyes. The sunlight caught the dusting of reddish gold hair along his chest and slightly darker red-gold hair below his navel that ran lower but was covered by his pants.

Crumpets!
She dearly wished to spend the afternoon conducting a thorough exploration of his body. She didn’t need to be tipsy to make a wanton fool of herself. She stifled her uninhibited thoughts and raised her gaze to his face.

Safer.

Oh, my. No, it isn’t.

His hair looked more auburn than gold in the sunlight. It was still damp and slicked back from his brow, the ends curling and clinging to the nape of his neck and making her want to put her nose to that spot and nuzzle him. In truth, she wanted to do much more than that, but it wouldn’t do to allow her thoughts to wander into more dangerous realms.

But if they should happen to wander on their own despite her best efforts to quell them, then she wouldn’t stop them, for the fantasy of taking highly inappropriate liberties with his body in the hope he might respond to her in kind quite appealed to her.

She silently chided herself. What was wrong with her? It was as though the trappings of civility had come off along with his shirt and her slippers. But it couldn’t be helped. Julian stood before her, a noble beast in his raw and purest form.

An incredibly handsome and seductive beast that she had neither the strength nor the will to resist.

“Rose, stop looking at me that way.”

She wasn’t ashamed of her feelings. They were inconvenient, to be sure, but he wasn’t immune to her either. “I can’t help it.”

He groaned and took another hefty swallow. And another, then stopped drinking and gazed questioningly at the bottle.

Nicola shot her a warning glance. “What’s wrong, Julian?”

He shook his head. “Wine tastes odd.”

“Let me see.” His sister took the bottle and sniffed it. “Smells fine to me, but you must have taken in some pond water while playing with Robert and Callum. It must have affected your sense of taste.”

He shrugged. “Perhaps.”

Rose turned away and began to pour lemonade into glasses for the children. She poured one for herself as well, but set it down abruptly when Julian suddenly began to sway back and forth like a flag caught on a breeze. He groaned and sank to his knees.

Rose rushed to his side and knelt beside him, moving the picnic basket out of his way and angling his body toward the blanket before he inevitably toppled. “Julian, don’t drink any more of that wine. It must be a bad vintage. You said it looked odd and tasted odd, so it can’t be good for you.”

Goodness, had Nicola carried through on her terrible idea to drug him? How could she do this to her own brother? All this plotting to protect him from a miserable marriage didn’t seem like such a good plan any more.

He squinted and turned to her, his senses obviously dulled and his gaze unfocused. “What?”

He was swaying quite dangerously now. She moved closer, intending merely to support him in order to ease him gently onto the blanket, but he suddenly enveloped her in his arms and, like a great, toppling tower, brought her down along with him as he collapsed unconscious atop her.

The breath flew out of her in a great, grunting
oof
, for she hadn’t expected to fall along with him, much less fall
under
him… or remain embarrassingly pinned beneath him. “Oh. Oh, dear. Uh, crumpets. This is awkward.”

She shoved at him, but his big body was too heavy for her to budge. “Nicola, help me up. Your brother is…”
grunt, grunt
“…crushing me.”

Her friend was now standing over her, shaking her head and making not the least effort to assist. “You ought to have thought of that before you helped him. You’re much too soft-hearted for your own good, Rolf. What are you doing now?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Rose shoved at him again and ended with another breathless grunt of defeat, for he was sprawled like a giant, immovable boulder across her chest, the weight of him shamelessly pressed against her, but in a shockingly delightful way. He smelled so divinely good as well, a mix of masculine heat and fresh country air. “Nicola, stop gawking at me and do something.” Her first experience with a man was not going to be like this. No indeed! She wanted the gentleman in question to be awake next time and paying attention.