Wedding Wagers(37)

     



 

So Victor left the library, shutting the door behind him, and walked  through the dark house. He made his way to the door that led to the  garden terrace. He slipped outside to find the air cool and fragrant and  the moon high in the sky, casting a cool light over the bushes and  trails. It was the balm Victor needed. He crossed the terrace and set  off along one of the paths, not paying attention to where he was  walking. When he reached the gazebo, he paused, wondering if he should  somehow warn Lady Juliet of her brother's decision. He could write a  note and have a maid deliver it to her. Or perhaps he could slip it  under her door himself.

Or perhaps he should break into her bedchamber, scoop her up, and carry  her far away. Frustration pulsed through him, and he turned to the  gazebo and slammed his fist into one of the beams.

A small yelp sounded from inside the gazebo, and Victor stilled. Please  be a bird, or a small critter. But as he rubbed his sore hand and  stepped to the entrance, the shadowed form he saw was much too large to  be an animal.

The form rose, and the shape was unmistakably a woman's.

"Lord Locken," the woman said in a soft voice.

He'd know her voice anywhere-had listened to it for days, even when he had no part of her conversations.

"Lady Juliet," he began. "My apologies for startling you."

She walked toward the gazebo entrance, and the moonlight skittered  across her skin as it filtered through the slatted roof above. She wore  the same blue gown from that evening, so it meant she hadn't fully  prepared for bed. Apparently she was as restless as he.

She took another step nearer. Her unbound hair tumbled in golden waves  about her shoulders, making her look like she'd just walked out of a  fairy-tale book. He wanted to reach out and touch her hair, lean in and  smell her scent, pull her into his arms and bury his face in her neck.  If only once.

"What has you so troubled?" Her voice broke his reverie.

He straightened. "I thought punching a wooden beam would do less damage than what my true desire was."

She took another step so now they were only inches apart. "What are your true desires?"

He could never tell her that, especially here, in the middle of the  night in a secluded gazebo. It would be so easy to take her into his  arms and kiss her. But he could not do her the disservice. So he  contented himself by gazing into the depths of her eyes.

"I've just spoken with your brother." He hated to bring her into this,  but it concerned her, after all. "It seems we are at odds with each  other once again."

"I know about Stratford," she said in a quiet voice. "When the ladies  excused themselves tonight, Stratford asked to have a word with me. He  laid out the plan he'd worked on with John." She blinked as a tear stole  its way onto her cheek.

Victor had thought he'd been angry when he'd hit the wooden beam, but  that was nothing compared to the fury building inside of him as he  watched the single tear track down her cheek. He lifted his hand and  soaked it up with his thumb. He wore no gloves, and her cheek was cool  with the night air. The smoothness of her skin sent a tremor through  Victor. He should lower his hand and step away, but he didn't.

Lady Juliet tilted her head so that her cheek rested in his palm. "I  will be all right, Lord Locken. Please don't worry yourself on my  behalf. Mr. Talbot has made his intentions quite obvious, and my new  lady friends believe he will propose soon. I am quite sure that I'll get  my brother to agree to the union    ." She lifted her chin, and another  tear brimmed on her eyelash. "As for your wager, I am sure Lord Hudson  or Lord Brooks are about to fall into line. Lord Brooks has written me  the loveliest poetry. So, you see, you'll more than win the wager. I'll  marry . . . someone . . . and perhaps our paths will cross in the  future." She smiled, but it was a tremulous smile. "We will be happy for  each other."

Victor ran his fingers across her cheek, along her jawline, then rested  his hand at the base of her neck. The delicate pulse of her heart could  be felt there. She didn't seem to mind where his hand was, for she  didn't draw away or reprimand him. In fact, she seemed to have inched a  bit closer, close enough that her breath brushed against his own neck.

"I don't want to be happy for you," he whispered. "I want to be happy with you."

She inhaled, then wrapped her fingers around his wrist, holding his hand  in place against her skin. Instead of responding to his declaration,  she said, "Did you burn that letter?"

She'd remembered; she'd remembered and worried. He smiled. "I did."         

     



 

She returned his smile, and he felt his heart crack. Her smile was so  pure, her gaze so open, her body so close, that he knew . . . knew she  felt the same way about him as he did her.

"I'm glad," she said. "You deserve so much more, Victor Roland."

"You're the only one who thinks so," he murmured. Then he saw something  with a square edge sticking out of the lace trim of her bodice. "What's  this?"

Before she could move, he'd plucked out what looked like a folded letter.

"Give that to me," she said, grasping for the paper, but he held it out of her reach.

She grabbed his other hand, but he'd already unfolded the letter.

He stared at the words in the moonlight. "It's the note I sent you."

"Yes."

He looked down at her. "You keep it in your bodice?"

Her eyelashes fluttered, but she held his gaze. "I don't want it discovered, and I refuse to burn it."

Victor stared at her for a long moment. Then he refolded the letter and ever so gently slipped it back into its place.

"Lady-"

"Call me Juliet," she breathed.

"I should go," he said. "I don't trust myself around you right now,  Juliet. The moonlight is bewitching my senses, among other things . . ."

She exhaled. "Tomorrow we will begin our separate lives and fulfill the  expectations of our families. But before we say goodbye . . . please  kiss me once."

Victor stared at her, but he knew his ears had not deceived him. She was  asking him. And he could no longer resist her. He raised his hands and  cradled her face, then he pressed his mouth against hers.

She tasted of honey and roses and sweet wine. Her mouth was soft and  warm, and when she kissed him back, he thought his body would ignite.  Her hands moved up his chest and over his shoulders. Everywhere she  touched added new flames to the fire stoked inside of him. Then she slid  her hands behind his neck, pulling him closer as their bodies seemed to  fit together in perfection. He knew she was an innocent, yet her desire  for him felt like the sweetest form of communication he'd ever  experienced.

Juliet had no idea what instincts she'd kindled, and Victor had to stop.  Even if it was the last thing he wanted to do. He could get lost in  her, and he was in danger of completely forgetting all sense and reason.





Victor's hands on her face, then her neck, and finally tugging her  closer as his mouth explored hers in a warm kiss made Juliet believe  that nothing else mattered in her life. Except for this. This man. His  warmth. His brown eyes. His unruly, dark hair. His heart. His mind. His  life. She wanted to be a part of all of it. But his world would  completely change if that happened. This she knew, yet she still kissed  him, because she also knew their time was running out.

He walked her backward, moving deeper into the gazebo so they were in  near darkness, and that only made the heat between them flare up more.  Juliet supposed she'd imagined how it would feel to be held in his arms,  to be pressed against his body, to be kissed by him, but she hadn't  expected how completely she would melt into him. And she knew that no  matter whom she married, she would never feel this way again.

With only a kiss and embrace, she'd become one with Victor, both in  heart and mind. And she didn't know if she could ever let go.

"Juliet," Victor murmured against her lips. And then he trailed kisses  along her jaw, down her neck, until he had pulled her close and buried  his face in her hair.

Their breathing slowed together, and Juliet knew the seconds were  counting down to when he'd release her and step away. She clung to him,  all the while dreading their separation, though it was inevitable.

"Juliet," he rumbled again, his breath tickling her neck. "We must stop."

She knew he wasn't seeking a reply.

And so, when he lifted his head and gazed down at her, then slowly  traced his fingers over her lips, she felt as if all warmth had fled her  body as he released her.

With every step he took across the gazebo, Juliet felt the distance like  each step was a league. She remained in place, unmoving, as he finally  turned his back and walked slowly down the path, getting farther and  farther away. She watched him literally walk out of her life.

Juliet wasn't sure how long she stood in the gazebo, but when she  started trembling from the torrent of emotions running through her, she  finally made her way back to the house. She didn't want to create a  scandal by being discovered sound asleep in the gazebo come morning.