All Things Beautiful (5 page)

His expression was severe.

Julia took a step out from between the bench and the dressing table, thankful her trembling legs supported her weight. She lifted her chin and whispered to herself, “Do not be afraid. This is your husband.”

“What did you say?”

Julia gasped, embarrassed that he’d heard her. Her cheeks flaming, she answered, “I said that my husband is home.” Home. The word filled her with a warm feeling. She’d said nothing of which she need be ashamed. Her days of shame and loneliness were behind her.

Brader cocked his head, eyeing her warily. He moved into the room. Slowly, his eyes studied her, from the tips of her bare toes, peeking from beneath the lace ruffle at the hem of her nightgown, to the top of her head, and finally rested upon her face.

“I hope you found everything satisfactory.” His tone was formal.

“Yes.” The word hung between them. Julia felt naked standing before him in nothing more than her nightdress. Nor could the usually glib Elegant Julia think of a word to say with her husband’s presence dominating the room.

Only moments ago, she’d thought the room slightly chilled. Now the force of his personality electrified it. Feeling awkward and gauche, Julia studied her toes, afraid to move closer to him lest he discover how nervous she was.

“You’re beautiful.”

Her gaze flew to his face, her lips parting in surprise. The compliment gave her hope until she saw the flat uncompromising line of his mouth, the hint of anger in his eyes.

“Thank you.” The word came out in one breath. Intuition told her it would be up to her to divine his thoughts. Brader Wolf did not strike her as a man who answered to many people.

“The room is lovely,” she ventured, lifting her hand to indicate furnishings, tastefully appointed in cream accented in blues and greens. “Emerald green and marine are my favorites colors.”

Brader nodded, as if confirming something in his own mind. “That’s what Hardwell discovered in his research.”

“Did he also discover that the veal in cream sauce served for dinner is my favorite?”

The light of amusement stirred in his eyes. “Yes.”

A new kind of heat crept up her spine, the heat of indignation. “I see. Then I believe it is Hardwell I must thank for his thoughtfulness and not my husband.”

Her anger eased something inside of Brader. He relaxed his stance. “Your husband?” He made a pretense of searching around the room. “Who are
you playacting for, Lady Julia? A person would almost believe we were a love match, to hear you.”

Julia saw red. “A person would almost believe I was nothing more than that vase on the table, to hear you talk. You didn’t want a wife, you wanted a possession.”

Brader laughed in agreement. “I didn’t want a wife, period.”

“Then what are you going to do? Because you
have
a wife, Mr. Wolf.”

His eyes glowed. “Yes, I do. Don’t I, Mrs. Wolf?”

He moved toward her then, and Julia felt all her anger dissipate in the face of his slow, stalking advance. Compelled by something deep inside her, she stood, waiting for his next move in this game they played.

Stopping in front of her, his voice soft and intimate, he repeated, “Yes, I have a wife, don’t I?” The warmth of his breath brushed against her hair. His large hands with their long fingers traced her jawline, tipping her face up to look at him. “A beautiful wife.” He brushed her hair back over her ears.

Julia’s body vibrated with the sound of his magnificent voice. She leaned closer to him, her body suddenly alert with anticipation.
He is my husband.
At the first soft touch of his lips against her ear, Julia thought she would shoot straight through the ceiling to the stars in the sky above.

She sighed in pleasure, the gentle sound surprising her. Brader answered by bringing his lips down
on hers with a carnality that made their kiss in the church seem chaste.

Operating on instinct, Julia parted her lips to accept him, wanting more. She wrapped her arms around his neck. The taste and feel of Brader’s tongue was the ambrosia and honey boasted of by poets and lovers.

His hands cupped her derriere, molding her against his hard body. Her knees went weak. Running one hand down to his chest, she grabbed hold of the material of his coat for support.

Brader’s mouth didn’t leave hers until they both had to part for a gulp of air. But then he buried his face in her neck, capturing the tender skin there with his lips and teasing her with his teeth. One hand held her pressed against him while his other moved up to caress her breast.

His touch, even through the heavy flannel, surprised her—and then she wanted more. Her whole being centered on where their bodies touched. She caught her breath and pressed her body closer to him. No man, not even Lawrence, had inspired this erratic beating of her heart or this desire to melt into the magic he was creating, to turn herself completely over to his control.

It was going to be so easy to create a baby with this man.

His lips moved back to her ear. His voice, low and deep, brought her back to reality. “My beautiful wife swathed in flannel for her wedding night.”
He pulled slightly away from her. “I’ll never be good enough for you, will I?”

The bitterness of his tone slowly broke through the spell he’d created. “I—I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

“Yes, you do.” He looked down to where he still cupped her breast in his palm. The pad of his thumb swept over the nipple, which tightened and throbbed in response to his touch. Embarrassed, Julia fought the insane urge to order him to stop talking and continue what they’d started.

He pushed her back. “You are like all the bloody aristocracy. Well, don’t feel that you are bestowing your favors on me.”

Her lips parting in surprise, Julia gathered her wits enough to protest. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? Did you wait for Lawrence Alcorn in an old flannel nightdress? Did you throw yourself in his arms or make him come to you in the manner of a queen granting an audience to a commoner?”

Julia glared at him, furious. Flannel nightgowns were all she’d ever worn, but she’d damn her soul to eternal hell before she would admit it! “I have eight hundred years of British nobility flowing through my veins. My ancestors signed the Magna Carta and stood by Charles the Second. No matter how low life takes me, nothing will erase my pride in my heritage.”

“How low life takes you,” Brader repeated, his
eyes glowing dangerously. “Madam, with your reputation, I am definitely a step up.”

He caught Julia’s wrist in the air before she could crack her palm against his face.

“We’ve gone this route once, Julia, and I’ll not let you strike me a second time. Let us have it done between us here and now. You and your family have made it abundantly clear that I am not good enough for you. Fine. For Kimberwood, I’ve saddled myself with a marriage and a woman I neither want nor desire—”

“Liar! Perhaps you don’t want me, but you desire me.” Fury drove her to rash behavior. Boldly she stepped closer to him, pressing her body against his, challenging him to deny the truth.

Brader smiled grimly, dropped her hand, and stepped back. “Aye. I’m a man. But your beauty is not enough for me. I’m a proud man. I want no part of a woman who has no standards other than her own selfish whims, regardless of her pedigree. Go your own way, Lady Julia. You have the account I set up for you, and I will ensure that money is deposited there monthly. You may even stay in London. It is of no concern to me what you do or with whom you do it.”

Before Julia could reply, he walked over to the door to his room and left, slamming it as if the hounds of hell chased at his heels.

Stunned, Julia stared at the closed door. He’d left her. Her body still throbbed with the passion his touch had aroused. She took a step toward the door.

White-hot anger replaced the heat of unfulfilled desire.

Crossing to the bedside table, Julia picked up a vase and threw it after him. It smashed into the door with a splintering crash. “You’re wrong, Brader Wolf!” she shouted. “You felt what I felt. No matter how long you live, you know you wanted me—”

She caught her breath with a sob. Horrified to discover herself shouting like a fishwife, she sank down on the bed. She had to compose herself, remember her breeding. Not since that dark night with her brother Geoffrey, after Lawrence betrayed her and exposed her to ridicule, had she broken down so completely.

No answering sound came from his room beyond the door.

Stiffly, Julia lay down on the bed, her wedding bed. She needed to gain control of herself. She was Lady Julia Markham. Lady Julia Markham did not throw objects at people. Lady Julia Markham did not have to explain herself to a tradesman. Lady Julia Markham did not throw her body at a man like a common doxy. The litany played over and over in her head until she fell into an exhausted sleep.

The next morning, Julia descended the stairs of Foulkes Hall prepared to win her battle with this man who was her husband. A bright new day gave her a fresh perspective!

Brader had said some devastating things to her the night before. But he’d also revealed a great deal about himself.

First of all, he was proud. She understood pride. Julia vowed he’d never find another reason to be ashamed of her. She had been foolish with Lawrence, but one thing the past had taught her was that she couldn’t change it. Not surprised that he’d heard the story about her and Lawrence Alcorn, she wanted to point out that she now lived a circumspect life…and would continue to do so.

Second, he was attracted to her. Possibly even as wild an attraction as she felt for him. What was it about Brader Wolf that sent her senses swimming when he touched her? His attraction to her was all she needed to create her baby.

Standing at the bottom of the steps in the great hall, she realized that the large house seemed strangely quiet, deserted. Julia expected to meet a footman or a butler to ask directions to the breakfast room. She caught the smell of food cooking from some point not too far from where she now stood. Her stomach rumbled noisily, reminding her she hadn’t eaten very much the day before.

“Hello?” Her voice echoed around the high ceiling.

The voice of the little maid assigned to Julia by Hardwell, who only moments before had helped Julia dress, answered from behind her on the steps. “Oh, my lady, it’s my duty to take you to the breakfast room and see to your needs.”

A sense of foreboding filled Julia. “Where are the others?”

“There are no others, my lady. The master took everyone off with him to his new home.”

He’d left? Julia’s hands tightened into fists, anticipating the maid’s response. “And that is?”

“Kimberwood, my lady. He moved everyone to Kimberwood last night.”

A
ll Julia needed was for the butler—the same one from Foulkes Hall, she noted grimly—to open the door a crack. Catching him by surprise, she threw the door open before he could question whether or not he should let her enter.

“Fisher, isn’t it?” she purred in fine aristocratic hauteur to the gaping servant. “Please be so good as to tell me where my husband is.”

Fisher, still shocked by her appearance—no doubt the servants had a heyday with Wolf’s desertion of her!—didn’t argue but pointed in the direction of Kimberwood’s sunroom at the rear of the house. Pulling off one glove, she took a step toward him. The man jumped backward. Julia gave him a smile laden with satisfaction at his reaction. He should be scared!

“You’ll see to my luggage, won’t you?” she ordered silkily, handing her new coat trimmed in fox and her smart leghorn bonnet to a footman. “I’ll
announce myself,” she said over her shoulder as she sailed down the hall, ready to do battle.

She felt good. She felt powerful. Four days had passed since she and Brader parted company. Parted company—ha! She’d make him wish he’d never laid eyes on her in the first place. No one walked out on Julia Markham!

Julia stepped out of the way of three carpenters carrying a load of lumber. From rooms up and down the hall came the sounds of men at work. Plaster dust covered everything in the hallway, its chalky smell fighting with the fresh, sweet scent of new wood.

Julia stopped and studied the activity around her. The last time she’d visited Kimberwood had been over ten years ago. Even then the stately country manse had exhibited debilitating signs of neglect. Marveling at the evidence of how much work had already been performed, she could only imagine what Wolf had discovered when he first stepped across its threshold.

Steeling herself for the upcoming confrontation, Julia walked through the sunroom entrance, noting that the heavy oak doors with lead glass inserts had been removed, possibly for repair. She pulled up short at the sight of her husband, the skirts of her new blue merino day dress swinging around her.

After the industrious activity in the hallway, the sunroom was quiet and peaceful. Brader sat with his back to Julia, looking out the bay of windows
at the lawn beyond. He was speaking to someone whom Julia could not see, since his wide shoulders and broad back blocked her view.

So intense was his discussion with this person, he didn’t sense her presence. To have come all this way only to have him not even realize she was present in the room! Mentally, Julia saw herself cracking a potted plant on his head, the dirt falling over the crisp whiteness of his shirt.

She cleared her throat instead.

Irritated to be interrupted, Brader shot a stern glance over his shoulder. He started to turn back, then, realizing who was standing in his doorway, swung around sharply. Her husband’s delayed reaction was all Julia could wish. His eyes opened wide in shock, then narrowed angrily.

Julia doubled her hands into fists. Just let him be angry! She had a word or two in mind for him.

Her face remained schooled in pleasantness as she smiled sweetly. “Hello, dearest. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting overlong for me to arrive.”

“You! What are you doing here?”

Honey dripped from her next words as she walked toward him. “Why,
darling,
I wanted to surprise you.” She stopped directly in front of him and, saucily wagging a finger, added, “I didn’t want
mon petit chou chou
”—she enjoyed using her mother’s favorite endearment for Maestro—“to be lonely without me.”

Wolf looked ready to explode. “Lonely?” His body tensed as he struggled physically to keep control
of his temper. He lost the battle. “Don’t you ever bloody hell do what anyone wants you to do?” His booming voice rattled the windowpanes.

Julia lifted her chin, looked him square in the eye, and said, “No.”

His mouth dropped open, his eyes reflecting stunned surprise. Julia laughed with the joy of winning a point on Brader Wolf.

She wasn’t laughing a moment later when he turned away from her and stormed across the room as if he had to move away or risk throttling her with his bare hands. Looking at the size of those hands, opening and clenching, Julia suddenly questioned the wisdom of tweaking Brader’s nose in his lair, so to speak. She pushed the thought aside as cowardly and unworthy of a descendent of William the Conqueror.

At last he appeared to have some control over himself. His eyes livid with fury, Brader turned back to her. “I have no idea what game you are playing, but I do not find it humorous.”

“Game! I am your wife—”

“Wife!”

“—and I will not be left behind like a coat you tried on and decided wasn’t to your liking.”

“That’s right!”

Julia blinked, confused. “What’s right?”

“You’re not to my liking. Is it possible to get that thought through your slow aristocratic head? I—did—not
—choose—you. I—do—not—want—you.” He bit each word out.

Anger swept away any hurt she might have felt. Julia placed her hands on her hips and leaned forward to look up at him eyeball to eyeball. “And can you get it through that thick peddler’s skull of yours that I’m your wife for eternity until death us do part, whether you like it or not?”

“Peddler!” His brows pulled together in an angry
V,
his eyes flashing such fire that for a moment Julia wondered if the death she spoke of might be close at hand. She took a step back.

“You’d be wise to move farther away than that,” Brader growled, taking a step toward her. “For your information, I am not—nor ever will be—a peddler!” He continued stalking her. “You may call me a banker, or a financier, or a merchant. You may even call me a bloody moneymaker. But do
not
call me a peddler. I’m no damned tinker!”

He’d backed her up against the doorframe with a thump. Cornered, Julia came back spitting fire of her own. “And you may call me your wife. For that’s what I am before God and all men, and nothing you do or say will change that fact!”

Brader’s eyes swung skyward, his arms outstretched as if looking for divine guidance. “What do you want? It can’t be money; I’ve settled a fortune on you. It can’t be me; less than two weeks ago I wasn’t good enough to dance with you! What in bloody hell do you want?”

“I want a child.”

Brader’s jaw dropped as if she’d struck him. The astonishment on his face would have been comical
if Julia wasn’t wrapped up in her own shock at having just blurted out her deepest desire.

She held her breath, waiting for his reaction. Not even the satisfaction of giving him an answer he’d never suspected steadied her nerves.

“Bravo!” a soft, fluttering voice announced.

Julia turned toward the speaker. A petite, older woman, dressed in black and wrapped in a heavy wool shawl, sat on a small rocker before the bay windows. Immediately, Julia recognized her as the veiled woman who had attended their wedding.

Julia’s face blazed hot with embarrassment. “Please, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were…” Her voice trailed off. Brader
had
been talking to someone when she’d entered the sunroom. How stupid of her not to hold her temper until they were alone.

The woman held a small hand up to her. “Please, child, do not be embarrassed. I’ve been waiting many years for someone to stand up to Brader.” Her unfocused blue eyes twinkled with appreciation. “Come to think of it, I’ve never heard
anyone
tell Brader to his face that matters can’t go his own way.
I
certainly never argued with him.”

“Still, I didn’t mean to disturb your conversation with him. It’s a terrible lapse of manners on my part.”

“Come here, child,” the woman ordered, in a tone, for all its softness, as imperial as Brader’s.

“Mother, I don’t think this is wise,” Brader said quietly.

Mother! Julia’d never imagined Brader having a parent, let alone springing from the body of this fragile woman.

“Of course it’s wise, Brader. Julia is right. She is your wife, and her place is with you.”

His jaw tightened, but he made no further reply.

“Come, Julia,” his mother repeated. “Sit next to me.” She waved a thin hand toward the room in general, and it was at that moment Julia realized his mother was blind. “We need to know each other better.”

Julia shot a look at Brader. His expression bitter, he nodded his head for her to comply with his mother’s wishes. Dutifully, Julia sank into a chair close to his mother’s and took the hand offered to her.

“I’m Nancy Ashford. You may call me Nan.” Her voice held the gentlest hint of a reprimand. “Since my son didn’t tell you of my existence, perhaps now is too soon for Mother.”

“Ashford?” Immediately, Julia could have bit off her tongue.

“Brader, you haven’t told Julia, have you?” Nan Ashford turned toward where she’d last heard her son’s voice, but Brader had silently walked over beside her.

“It isn’t necessary. She won’t be staying.”

Nan gave him a beatific smile. “We shall see.”

Brader looked over his mother’s head to Julia. His eyes glittered with an implied threat. “We shall, won’t we?” He stepped back. “If you’ll excuse
me?” He waited only the barest moment after Nan nodded her head to leave the room.

Troubled, Julia squeezed Nan’s hand and whispered, “I’ll be back in a moment.” Rising, she followed Brader out the sunroom door.

“Brader. Brader, wait.”

He whirled on her. “Madam, we have nothing to discuss.”

“I didn’t mean to create a scene in front of your mother—or anyone.”

Patent disbelief etched on his face, Brader pointed a finger at her. “Do not involve her in whatever scheme you have in mind. You may play your games with me, Julia Markham, but not with my mother. Do you understand?”

Julia slapped his hand out of her way. “I am not playing a game. I came here because I am your wife.”

“Oh, yes, and you want to create a child.” He stepped close to her. His thighs rubbed against hers. She had to lean back to look up at him, but she would not back away. She would not give Brader Wolf the satisfaction of making her back down.

He lowered his voice until its unique vibrancy sang in her ears. “You’d like to have me wrapped around your little finger wouldn’t you, like Carberry and how many others? Watch your step, Julia. I’m not one of your aristocratic pets. You may get more than you bargain for.”

Julia struggled with a sudden breathlessness. Why did her body turn to jelly around this man?
She fought back. “You’re so smug. You think you know everything about me, don’t you?”

He didn’t bother to reply but turned and started walking. Julia dearly wished she had something to throw right at the middle of his broad back.

“And you, Brader Wolf? What of your games? Why don’t you tell me why you want Kimberwood enough to marry me? How noble are
your
reasons?” When she still didn’t receive his attention, she added, “And I’m not leaving. No matter what you want,
I will not leave!
”

For the briefest second he paused, and then continued walking without looking back.

Julia wanted to grind her teeth and stamp her feet in the most unladylike way imaginable. Why was he so unreasonable?

Suddenly, weariness swept her temper aside.

What was the sense in fighting him? Her shoulders slumped. She closed her eyes and lowered her head. No hope, no hope for any of her dreams…and then Nan’s soft voice came from behind her.

“My dear, I believe you are exactly what Brader needs in his life. Come and talk to me.”

Julia’s afternoon with Nan reinforced her determination to make her marriage work. They’d spent an enjoyable hour getting to know each other. Nan hadn’t spoken of her son directly, but Julia’s spirits were helped to know his mother did
not feel the situation was as hopeless as Julia feared.

Nan’s companion, a Mrs. Elliott, who had been one of the two ladies accompanying Nan to their wedding, came for her mistress, announcing it was time for her to rest. Nan promised to meet with Julia the next afternoon in the sunroom, saying, with a conspiratorial wink of an unseeing blue eye, she would not join them for dinner that night. Nan never dined with her son, as she enjoyed an earlier supper and bedtime than he did.

Fisher escorted Julia to what had been Grandmère’s room. Although the workmen hadn’t started on the second floor, the furniture already shone with fresh polish and the bedclothes and drapes were clean and fresh. The master’s bedroom, the largest in Kimberwood, was across the hall. Julia did not have to ask where Brader slept. Nothing would do for the ego of her husband except the largest room!

Refreshed by a nap, Julia descended the stairs for dinner, ready for another round with her husband, determined to have him eating out of the palm of her hand in no time. Her ball gown had made him notice her as a woman. The dress she wore tonight was designed to do the same. The sooner they created her baby, the sooner she could wash her hands of him and his rude manner.

Before she’d left London, she’d spent several hundred pounds on a new wardrobe. Brader had enough black marks chalked up by her name that
she wasn’t going to let dowdiness continue to be one of them.

And he’d never think her dowdy in this dress. The satin smoothness of heavy blue silk swayed and molded to her body with every step. The color brought out the sapphire of her eyes and, against the glossy darkness of her hair, gave her skin the smooth whiteness of alabaster. She looked sophisticated, fashionable, and, she hoped, enticing…at least enough to spur her husband to cross the hall from his room to hers tonight.

The house was in amazing order for the uproar she’d discovered upon her arrival earlier in the day. Not a trace of plaster dust could be found, and Fisher had even seen to a bouquet of hothouse flowers on a table in the foyer.

Stepping off the last step, she had the fleeting impression she’d caught the butler off guard, as if he hadn’t expected her to appear this evening. However, he bowed deeply, his manner unruffled and polite.

“Master Wolf is in the drawing room—”