Loving Julia (16 page)

“In the short time you have been in this house, you have become a very lovely lady, indeed.”

He lifted his glass to her, and smiled. She misliked the look in those blue eyes. Men were men, be they staggeringly handsome gentlemen or ordinary blokes. And she had seen that look in too many men’s eyes to mistake it.

“If you’re trying to turn me up sweet, you’re wasting your time,” she told him bluntly, hanging on to her accent with an effort.

He shook his head, laughing a little. “What a suspicious mind you have! No, I am not trying to turn you up sweet. I meant what I said.”

Still she looked at him suspiciously. His face was as bland as a baby’s, his eyes sunnily clear as they met hers.

“Thank you,” she said finally, still sounding a trifle wary.

“My lord,” he prompted. Then, before she could even repeat the words, he resumed eating his meal and signaled that she should do the same. Evidently he realized her difficulty in eating and conversing at the same time because he confined himself to remarks requiring for the most part a simple yes or no answer until dessert was cleared away and they left the table.

“Shall we repair to the music room?” he asked, coming up behind her as she hesitated in the doorway of the dining room, not sure about what to do next. Mrs. Thomas’ instructions had only covered the meal itself, not afterwards.

“All … right,” Jewel said, trying not to feel nervous as he took her hand in his and placed it in the crook of his arm. Surely it was proper for him to walk her from the dining room in this way; after all, he was an earl, he must know how things were done.

But Jewel felt the heat of that arm all the way through the black superfine of his coat; the hardness of his muscles against her palm started a shivery feeling inside her that made her warier of herself than of him.
Him
she knew how to deal with; her own reactions were something else entirely. She was burningly aware of him so close beside her, her skirt brushing his legs as they walked, the whole of his right side close enough to warm her body. She looked up at him uncertainly, finding it unnerving to have to tilt her head back so far. He was much taller than she had at first supposed; the top of her head was not quite as high as his chin.

“Would you care for some music?”

“M-music?” She was so unsettled by his nearness that she had not even realized that they had reached the music room, so called because of the grand piano that dominated the portion of the chamber in front of the long windows.

“Yes, music,” he repeated, looking over his shoulder and adding to Johnson, who followed with a silver tea service, “Just set that on the table. Miss Julia and I will serve ourselves.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Jewel thought that Johnson sounded even stiffer than usual as he complied. Almost as if the butler disapproved of something—but what? Jewel realized that the earl still held her arm pressed against his body, and hastily pulled away. Johnson, face impassive, bowed and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Jewel found herself alone with the earl, and she felt very uneasy suddenly. Perhaps it was the gleam in his eyes as they looked at her that gave her pause. She didn’t like the way his lids half-dropped to conceal it. If he got out of line, was it permissible to slap an earl’s face? If she could even bring herself to, she thought, and went hot all over as she imagined those chiseled lips on hers….

“Why don’t you pour the tea, and bring mine over to the piano? If you care for music, I will endeavor to provide it.”

“You can play that thing?” In her surprise Jewel forgot her nervousness. She looked from him to the graceful instrument and back again.

“Certainly I can. You will be able to, too, before we’re done with you. Part of your education.”

Before Jewel could comment, he sat upon the piano bench, settling his fingers lightly over the keys. With his attention completely diverted from her, she was able to relax and concentrate on pouring the tea. Seating herself on the gold brocade settee, she concentrated on filling the delicate china cups. Only after they were properly full did Jewel even hear the music. It was pleasant to listen to, she thought as she carefully carried both cups toward the piano. A real nice, tinklin’ tune.

“Ah, thank you, Julia.” He stopped playing and accepted his cup, swiveling sideways on the bench to look up at her. His eyes seemed to take an inordinately long time to reach her face. With any other man she would instantly have known what to make of that long perusal, but with him … maybe she was just imagining the way he was looking at her because she wanted him to admire her as much as she did him.

“Sit down here, have your tea, and tell me how you like learning to be a lady.”

“I don’t like it at all, my lord,” she said tartly, sitting beside him in the space he had made for her on the bench. It occurred to her that the words had come out perfectly without her even having to think about what to say or how to say it, almost like talk did when she was just Jewel. She was so surprised that she quite failed to be flustered at the earl’s nearness, or note the droop of his lids as he stared down at the front of her bodice where her newly full breasts swelled tautly against the black silk.

“I said that quite well, didn’t I?” She beamed up at him with innocent pleasure, totally failing to notice how slowly he lifted his eyes to meet hers.

“Very well indeed.” The velvety texture of his voice as his eyes focused on the movement of her lips went right over her head in her excitement. Jewel smiled up at him with genuine delight, and his eyes widened slightly at the sudden blaze of beauty that completed her transformation in his mind from scrawny, grubby little waif to desirable woman.

“Maybe I do like learning to be a lady,” she added cautiously, considering. “I like having lots of food to eat, and being warm and clean, and having nice clothes to wear—even if they are all black.” This was accompanied by a mock reproachful glance up at him. He was watching her with lazy attention, Jewel saw, and felt warmed by this evidence of interest in her words. “I don’t like all them, uh, the things Mrs. Thomas makes me do. I hate having that board strapped to my back—it hurts! And I hate doing curtsies over and over almost as much as I hate talking into candles all the time.” Jewel realized what she had said and flashed him that radiant smile again. “But I do like talking properly when I’m doing it. I didn’t leave off a single ‘h’ just now!”

“I applaud you,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving her face as he took a meditative sip of tea. “But you do seem to have trouble remembering to address me as ‘my lord.’ ”

Her eyes twinkled saucily. “That’s because I never think of you as my lord.”

“Indeed?” Those surprisingly dark eyebrows lifted again, but for some reason the expression didn’t anger her this time. “And what do you think of me as, if I dare to ask?”

She grinned, showing a definitely unladylike amount of small white teeth and a bewitching dimple in the newly plump contours of her right cheek.

“Now that would be telling.” Jewel laughed up at him, feeling suddenly gay. If she had been thinking, she might have been inclined to wonder if her unaccustomed comfort in the earl’s presence might not have something to do with the glasses of wine she had consumed with her dinner. Indeed, she had drunk rather more than she had eaten because drinking did not require nearly as much skill as eating did. In the length of time it took her to chase, capture, and properly subdue her capon alone, she had easily swallowed three whole glasses of wine.

“Something rude, no doubt.” The earl’s answering smile was somewhat speculative, but Jewel smiled saucily back at him. She really felt very happy sitting beside him while he smiled down at her with those devastating blue eyes.

“No doubt,” she echoed in a beguiling voice, her eyes blinking into his. She felt as if she could drown in their cerulean depths….

His hand came up to stroke lightly down the side of her soft cheek. Jewel felt that small touch like a thunderbolt right down to her toes. Her eyes stared into his, and she felt as if she were melting helplessly.

“My lord,” he murmured, his eyes moving over her face like a caress.

“I always forget that part.” Her voice was plaintive, and a faint frown puckered her forehead. He reached up to smooth out the wrinkle with the same finger that had feathered her cheek. Jewel’s lips parted under the impact of that soft caressing touch.

“Never mind.” His voice was as caressing as his fingers. “I propose that we dispense with the formalities altogether. You may call me Sebastian.”

Jewel stared at him, feeling warmly befuddled. So close, his skin had the texture of soft grainless leather. It was naturally fair, but had been tanned to a light golden brown by the amount of time he spent outdoors, and was shades darker than her creamy whiteness. Beneath the halo of gleaming silver-gilt hair, his eyes with their surprisingly dark brows and lashes were as blue as the summer sky. His nose was straight, his mouth elegantly carved, his cheeks and chin finely drawn but indisputably masculine. Jewel vaguely recalled dismissing him as no more than a man-milliner at their first encounter. Now that she had become acquainted with the broad-shouldered, hard-muscled strength of him, she realized that the beauty of his face was mere camouflage for a very masculine male. In fact, looking at him now, she was reminded irresistibly of the old tale of the wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“Old Seb,” she murmured, remembering how Timothy had described him. Funny, she could hardly remember what Timothy had looked like, except that he had been fair, like a less vivid copy of Sebastian. Sebastian, whose eyes had darkened even as his hand tightened on her face. She felt the warmth and heat and strength of his fingers against the softness of her skin, and shivered responsively. She liked having him touch her. Her eyes were a molten gold in the candlelight as she looked up at him. “You weren’t quite what I was expecting.”

“Ah yes, Timothy,” he said negligently, his eyes inspecting the face he had turned up to his with minute attention. “The boy had more taste than I ever credited him with.”

“Thank you.” She pinkened with delight at the compliment, and smiled dreamily up at him, turning her face against his subtly stroking fingers in much the same way as might a cat being rubbed.

“Sebastian.”

“What?” His voice was softly caressing as he looked down into her dreamy-eyed face.

Jewel shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Just Sebastian?” He was leaning closer now, murmuring to her so that Jewel could feel the whisper of his breath on her mouth. She stared into the dazzling beauty of his face, and wanted to die of pure bliss. She thought that never in her life had she been so happy. It was pure heaven to be sitting so close to him, with his fingers stroking softly over her cheek now, and his other arm sliding around her, supporting her on the backless bench. What a gentleman he was, she thought with a tender curve of her lips, to consider her comfort so thoughtfully.

“You are really very lovely.” The words were drawled almost against her lips. He was close, so close that all she had to do was lift her mouth just the tiniest fraction and he would be kissing her. The idea of him kissing her made her senses go haywire. She wanted him to, oh, she wanted him to, she would die if he didn’t … The quivering started deep in her belly and worked its way down her thighs and up to her breasts, causing an aching, pulsing feeling that was like nothing she had ever known. Like a sleep walker, she leaned forward to close the final hair’s distance between them.

Her lips brushed his, and then he was kissing her, kissing her with a soft intensity that left her dazed and clinging to him. She couldn’t get enough of his mouth….

Her arms were around his neck, her mouth trembling under his. When she felt his tongue stroke over her lips, then slide gently between them to run over the smooth surface of her teeth, her breath stopped. She thought she would die with the wonder of it.

His mouth was withdrawn just the tiniest degree, and she tightened her arms in protest.

“Open your mouth, Julia,” he whispered, and because he asked her to she did. Then he was kissing her again, his tongue sliding inside her mouth to claim its sweetness, and she was drowning in the wonder of it. Her last thought before she went under completely was to wonder if all men knew how to kiss like this….

His mouth was withdrawn to nuzzle against the side of her face, trailing its way over her cheek to her neck and then up to her ear. She clung to his shoulders, her head limp on her neck as she allowed him to kiss her as he would. His arms pulled her closer, so that her breasts were pressed hard against his chest. Jewel loved the sensation of her softness against his strength, and her head began to whirl even more.

Then his lips pressed against the soft hollow behind her ear, and his tongue found the ear itself, gently tracing the delicate whorls. It tickled, just a bit, and the sensation made Jewel giggle. He stiffened at the foolish little sound, and the supporting arm was withdrawn from around her so suddenly that she nearly toppled backward off the bench. He had to catch her arm to prevent her fall. Then he hauled her upright again with a very ungentle hand on her arm.

“Sebastian!” She almost wailed a protest, her eyes huge as they blinked up at him. She felt as if she had been in a daze, and he had suddenly awakened her.

“How much wine did you have with dinner?” He was glaring at her, and the words were uttered through his teeth. Jewel stared up at him, bewildered by the sudden change in him.

“W-wot?”

“Obviously too much.” He sounded thoroughly disgusted. Standing abruptly, he pulled her to her feet.

Jewel, surprised by his rough handling, was equally surprised to find that her knees would not support her. She sagged, and he caught her with an arm around her waist.

“Damn it to hell,” he muttered, swinging her up into his arms. Jewel, not expecting the sudden change in her elevation, felt her head swim alarmingly. She clung to him, her hands clutching the rough silk of his hair as it curled into his nape, her eyes helplessly appealing as they sought his.