Tis the Season to Be Sinful (15 page)
Juliet grinned and leaned into his arm. The momentary contact startled him, relaying a feeling of unfulfilled yearning deep in his gut. He took a small step back. But he remained close enough to still touch her, for some reason unable to fully break the connection. As the discussion over thimbles and buttons continued in earnest, his eyes kept straying to her.
With the sunlight streaming through the windows lighting the cheery space, Richard admired Juliet’s profile. Her skin was nearly flawless, her nose pert, her lips full and moist. He recalled one of the few Christmas traditions that appealed to him—the hanging of mistletoe—and vowed if it was not already on his wife’s holiday preparation list, it would be added immediately.
The debate over adding the thimble and button continued among the guests, laughter mixing in with the raised voices. Staying out of the good-natured argument entirely, Juliet explained all the fuss to him.
“Unlike the happy result for the finder of the gold ring, those who find the thimble or button will remain a spinster or bachelor forever,” she said. “It’s a somewhat depressing tradition that very few are eager to embrace.”
“Unless they wish to remain a bachelor,” Richard commented dryly. “Like George.”
“He does seem to be the loudest voice,” Juliet said. “I vow he will get his way.”
“Don’t count Miss Hardie out so quickly,” Richard cautioned. “She seems equally determined to avoid the thimbles and buttons.”
Juliet chuckled. “They do both seem rather passionate. And I must give Miss Hardie credit for standing firm and not allowing herself to be bullied. Yet I will put my money on Lord George carrying the day.”
Amused, they watched from the sidelines, as Lord George and Miss Hardie each made their case. There was a brief discussion among the guests, then a small cheer erupted as Cook dropped the items into the bowl.
“I’ll say it again, George, I still firmly believe you’ve missed your calling in life,” Richard said, stepping forward. “You should be debating policy in Parliament.”
“I wouldn’t know which side to support,” George replied, wrinkling his nose. “Though I’ll admit the arguing is nearly as fun as getting my way.”
“You are incorrigible, sir.” Juliet admonished Lord George with a grin.
“Only when forced.” His gaze glinted with amusement.
“This might have been one time when it would have been wiser to acquiesce,” Richard muttered, his eyes on Miss Hardie.
The secretary shuddered with disapproval as the thimble and button disappeared into the batter. After a moment, she blinked, then drew herself up and quietly left the kitchen. The satisfactory smile vanished from George’s face at her exit.
“Darn, I fear you might be right this time, Richard. Excuse me.”
George fought his way through the crowd, hurrying out the doorway. Juliet glanced at Richard and he tried to ignore her surprised expression.
“Lord George and Miss Hardie?” she asked.
“I know it’s ridiculous, but George has developed a fondness for Miss Hardie,” Richard answered, his eyes on the kitchen archway. Now that the Christmas pudding had been made, everyone was starting to leave the room. Might he be so fortunate to have a few moments of privacy with his wife?
Looking again at Juliet’s profile, he remembered how delicate her soft, ripe lips tasted, how luscious her body had felt as it yielded to his touch. She was wearing a lovely day gown the color of ripe wheat, with a ruffled collar high on her neck. It was tightly fitted to the curves of her body, and instead of being prim, the garment looked soft and feminine.
Richard’s fingers itched to unfasten the delicate pearl buttons that ran from her throat to her breasts and spread the wispy lace apart. He knew how much he would enjoy kissing her creamy flesh as he slowly, sensually, exposed every inch of it.
Richard shifted uncomfortably and forced himself to think about something that would dull his arousal, but the pull of attraction grew stronger by the second. Cook and Mrs. Perkins had removed themselves to the far side of the kitchen near the stove. To begin boiling the Christmas pudding, no doubt. He gazed above their heads to the impressive array of pots hanging on a wrought-iron rack.
Methodically, Richard began counting them.
Seven, eight, nine . . .
Seven, eight, nine . . .
“Richard? Is there something you aren’t telling me about Lord George and Miss Hardie?”
At the sound of Juliet’s voice, hungry thoughts entered his mind. He imagined himself pulling her hard against his chest and kissing her. Thoroughly, passionately, wildly, until jolts of searing exhilaration coursed through them both.
Richard closed his eyes, nearly groaning. He was a strong-willed man with a determined mind. Yet somehow he had completely lost control of his physical desires, as well as his relationship with his wife. In the span of twenty-four hours.
“George’s momentary fascination with my secretary is no cause for concern.” Richard opened his eyes and stared fully into Juliet’s lovely face.
A mistake. She had caught her bottom lip between her teeth and it glistened invitingly. One touch of his own on those sweet lips and he knew he could awaken her passion, fanning it to heights they had not yet experienced.
Juliet’s brow furrowed. “Miss Hardie is an unprotected woman who could easily fall prey to Lord George’s charms. ’Tis your duty as her employer, Richard, to assure her safety.”
“There is no need to overreact, Juliet. He’ll hardly be ravishing her over the Christmas pudding.” Richard blew out a long breath, wondering if he was defending George so strongly because his own passion was so riotously out of control.
Juliet raised her brows, suspicion on her features. “There are many secluded areas in the house where all sorts of mischief can occur. I must warn Miss Hardie to be on her guard.”
“George is a gentleman. He does not spend his days debauching innocent women,” Richard insisted, only half believing the claim. “And anyway, we have an army of servants in the manor, not to mention a growing number of holiday guests. It would be a miracle indeed if George managed to get Miss Hardie alone.”
Juliet pursed her lips, her expression skeptical. “A determined man can manage all sorts of impossible things. Especially when a woman is involved.”
“I’ve known George for years. Trust me, he isn’t that clever.”
“I’m still concerned,” Juliet replied.
“Very well, I will speak to him,” Richard grumbled. “Again.”
Juliet nodded. “Before dinner, if you please. I know it’s unorthodox, but I’ve asked Miss Hardie to join us tonight, to even out the numbers.”
Richard did not bother to hide his surprise. “She agreed to come to dinner? Won’t she feel out of place?”
“Why? It’s mostly family. We aren’t all that grand and she is intelligent enough to converse on any number of topics. Besides, I imagine we’ll mainly be speaking of the upcoming holiday events and she proved her interest in that subject this afternoon.”
Richard could not help admiring the casual way Juliet spoke of including Miss Hardie. It was not, he suspected, merely to even out the numbers around the dining room table. Juliet had a tender heart; hearing of Miss Hardie’s tragedy had brought her natural compassion to the forefront.
Juliet was a woman who did not merely express her empathy, she acted upon it. A rare quality, Richard thought, his esteem for his wife rising.
“Will there be a large number of guests for dinner?” he asked, forcing a casual note into his voice.
“Oh, no. ’Tis a small group. Sixteen total.”
Juliet gazed at him, as if awaiting his approval. Richard nodded slowly, trying not to think about how much he disliked social occasions. He tolerated them because they were at times necessary, and useful, for business purposes. Yet it was clear tonight’s dinner party would not afford him any business opportunities.
He briefly toyed with the idea of sequestering himself in his study and not even emerging for supper, but that would throw off the numbers around the dining room table. And replace that anxious look on Juliet’s face with one of disappointment.
No. Like it or not, he would have to attend the evening meal with a smile on his face and hope the wine selection was plentiful.
A house filled with guests. For several weeks.
Damn Christmas.
Then again, all this commotion was a distraction for Juliet. That was good. He told himself that he was glad that the upcoming holiday, with all the commotion and preparation, was providing the perfect excuse to avoid having a particular conversation with his wife. One that centered on the emotions and feelings of their relationship and the reasons he did not want any children.
Yet if he was so glad, then why did he feel so damn annoyed?
Later that night Juliet reclined on the yellow satin chaise in her bedchamber, pondering her next move. Dinner had been a lively affair. Spirits were high, the mood festive. She had enjoyed spending time with the aunts and uncles and cousins she saw but once a year, yet a part of her had wanted only to be with Richard.
And it wasn’t because being near him made her heart race, her senses heighten. Not entirely. She liked talking to him, even when his answers were brief. She wanted to connect with the man she had come to know through his letters and at the same time wanted to learn much more about him.
What made him happy? Sad? What did he enjoy doing besides working hard and making money? Did he ride? Hunt?
And what about family? Had he been close to his parents as a child? An adult? He had told her that his parents were gone and there were no living siblings. He appeared to be very much alone in this world. Was that the reason he didn’t want any children of his own? Or was it something else?
Juliet knew that true intimacy was achieved over time, but she and Richard had already spent the first months of their marriage living apart. Their letters had helped them get to know each other, and now that they were finally living together, she didn’t want to waste these precious days. Henry’s death had cruelly shown her that time was fleeting and hardly infinite.
She bit her lip. She had two choices. She could sit here, alone, staring morosely into the fire and mulling over the unsatisfactory state of her relationship with her husband, or she could get up off her backside and try to fix it.
But how? Juliet sighed, knowing she would need to compromise and put her feelings about having another child in the back of her mind for now. Instead, she would focus on solidifying her emotional and physical connection with Richard.
A heavy tread sounded in the hallway. No guests were residing in this area of the house—it had to be Richard. Excitement bubbled inside her. She glanced down at her blue evening gown, wishing there was time to change into the naughty silk nightgown she had bought last month.
There was a curt knock. Juliet’s eyes darted to the entry. The door opened and Richard entered.
He met her inquiring gaze with a casual lift of his brow that set her heart thumping. She scrambled to a sitting position, smoothing down her skirt, striking what she hoped was an inviting pose.
“Am I disturbing you?” he asked casually.
“Not at all.”
He had removed his evening coat, vest, and cravat. The buttons at his throat were open, and she could see a tantalizing portion of his muscular chest. Juliet tried not to stare, but it was difficult. There was something about Richard’s raw masculinity that left her weak-kneed and breathless almost every time she was near him.
“I received a letter in the afternoon post,” he said.
“Not bad news, I hope?”
“No. At least, I don’t consider it bad news. You, however, might.”
There was an almost imperceptible softening of his voice, and the slight panic that had risen in Juliet eased. She drew her feet under her legs, making room for Richard on the chaise. “Tell me about this mysterious letter.”
“Hardly a mystery.” Richard sat beside her. “It’s from Walter Dixon, an influential man with whom I’d very much like to do some business. He’ll be traveling in the area with his wife at the end of the week on their way to spend the holiday with her family. I thought it a good opportunity to invite them to visit us for a few days.”
“I gather it would be beneficial to impress Mr. Dixon?”
“It couldn’t hurt.” Richard shrugged, but she wasn’t fooled by the casual gesture. Winning over this man was important to him, as Richard’s next words confirmed. “I’ve been trying for nearly a year to interest Dixon in a consortium of investors, and I think I’m finally close to getting him to seriously consider a partnership. This might be my best chance to accomplish that goal.”
“He would be a fool not to listen to you,” Juliet declared loyally.
Richard gave her an uncertain look. “What do you know of my business?”
Smiling a little, she arched her brow. “I don’t only read mystery novels and fashion magazines, sir. Accounts of your success are often reported in the newspaper.”
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