Her only reply was a moan, and her weight pressing against him as her knees buckled.

He skimmed his palm down her body to the heat between her legs. “Here?” His middle finger reached out in a languid caress between all those layers of cloth.

She drew in a sharp breath. “Yes. Yes. Yes. Please yes.”

It was on the edge of his mind to tell her to win the next game, but his mind was hardly working at this point. He lifted her skirts and drew back to watch her expression as he did so.

Those bright blue eyes remained fixed on him, half-lidded and bright with desire. Her mouth was swollen and red from their kisses; her breasts exposed and beautiful. His cock was near bursting just looking at her. Especially when the skirts were properly lifted and pushed over her hips to reveal the thatch of dark hair and an obvious dampness at the apex of her thighs.

Had any woman ever been so wet with need?

He cupped the intimate place. Her brows flinched and the fragile muscles at her neck tensed.

“Here?” he confirmed.

She gave a vigorous nod.

His middle finger moved against her, without the barrier of cloth this time, gliding against what was slick and hot and swollen. “Here?”

She moaned. Her hips bucked against his hand and ground with frustrated intention.

He traced her once, twice, before locating the small bud and rubbing it with the pad of his finger. Her sharp gasp rang out.

“There,” she panted. “There.”

“Not only there.” He slipped a finger inside her where it gripped him with a tightness he remembered too well.

“And there,” she agreed in a gasp.

He moved the finger in and out before adding a second. Her hips rocked against his hand in a rhythm that matched his stroking.

“Perhaps both?” He positioned his thumb over the sensitive nub, as his fingers continued to pump inside her.

Julia’s eyes flew open. “It’s too much.”

“It’s just enough.” He slowed his ministrations. “Trust me, my love.”

She nodded, and he kissed her, tasting her lust while he brought her pleasure. She stiffened. Her grip clamping his fingers spasmed and she cried out her euphoria against his mouth. His prick jerked at the sound.

William stroked her only a time or two more before sliding his hand free and releasing her skirts.

She blinked up at him.

“That should have been our wedding night,” he said with regret. “I was too afraid of hurting you.”

“None of that hurt.” She closed her eyes and gave a lazy, languid smile. “I want to do that again.”

He wouldn’t survive a second time. Even now, his cock ached with indignation. “Oh, we will. Many times.”

She chuckled, the sound low and sensual, and he knew well that the decision to give her pleasure had been a good one. His plan was working.




CHAPTER 7




DINNER WAS A FAR LESS extravagant affair than the previous days but was by no means without elegance or proper decorum. After all, one did not generally anticipate several extra days in a house party due to a blizzard striking in March.

In truth, Julia could have been served mealworms and probably would not have noticed. Not when her body was still soaring from all those lovely sensations William had wrought upon her simply with the movement of his hand. And now he sat at her side, handsome and charming, engaging in polite conversation as though none of it had happened.

But it had. Oh, it definitely had. The occasional side glance he slid her way told her he was anticipating the next time as much as she was.

But that was not the only thing she continued to remember. Hodges’s words prodded at her as well. The reason William was so perfect. He’d had spent the better part of his life making himself immaculate, so he could stay in a home where he was inevitably sent away from regardless. And now, he was once more trying to be perfect to keep her.

The very idea tugged at the inside of her chest.

Her mind twisted, wrestling between the real William she was beginning to discover, and the fear she harbored that he might someday break her heart. What she did know was that the simple act of leaving him, even to use the necessary, made her ache to be with him once more.

That was not a good sign, was it?

After reaching the retiring room and convincing a very naughty Bruiser to wait patiently outside, Julia entered to find Lady Jane dabbing her eyes.

Her bright gaze found Julia’s. “Do you think he likes me? Lord Hesterton, I mean.”

Julia suppressed a cringe at the question. It was obvious the man was trying to be rid of the failed match attempt. “Why do you ask?”

“The topic of marriage came up at dinner. First Lord Mortry declared he would never trust his heart to a woman. With his terrible past, it’s so easy to see why, the poor dear. And then Noah proclaimed he had no wish to marry a pretty young thing who is merely out to get his title and wealth.”

“That is why you believe he doesn’t like you?” Julia asked.

Lady Jane nodded miserably.

“What do you like about him?” Julia asked.

Lady Jane blinked. “He’s a marquis.”

“And what else?” Julia prodded. “His pleasant demeanor? His willingness to try new things?” She barely managed not to laugh.

“What did you like about the duke?” Lady Jane asked.

Well, now, that was a good question, wasn’t it? Julia had been glad for the opportunity to escape her home. But it had been more than that.

“He was kind.” Julia smiled softly at the memories of when they were courting. “He’s such a large man, and yet his touch was always gentle, his words always soft spoken and considerate.”

Lady Jane furrowed her brow. “I don’t think anything about Lord Hesterton is soft…”

“Do you like that?” Julia asked.

The younger woman shook her head.

Lady Doursly shoved into the room, followed by the little white dog that immediately attached himself to Julia’s side.

“Jane,” Lady Doursly snapped. “Lord Hesterton is outside this very door.”

“Mama, I do not believe—”

“This very door,” Lady Doursly repeated in a hiss. She grabbed her daughter and pulled her into the hall. Julia followed in time to see Lord Hesterton spin away and quickly limp in the opposite direction. Lady Doursly walked toward him. He moved with more haste. Lady Doursly matched his pace and the hunted marquis limped faster still.

Lady Jane, however, held back. “Thank you for your advice, Your Grace. I found it most enlightening.”

“As did I,” Julia said to herself. Not that it mattered, for Lady Jane was already making her way back to the salon for the games.

Julia followed slowly, her mind lost in her observation of William. He was kind, and always had a way of making her feel safe. Even their lackluster consummation had been the direct result of him not wishing to hurt her. Surely, such a man was trustworthy.

When she entered, the salon’s candles were half snuffed out and a large punchbowl had been set at a table’s center, which the guests gathered around. The distinct aroma of brandy hung in the air.

“Snapdragon.” Nancy clapped her hands. “Who is going first?”

The game had always frightened Julia. The entire bowl was to be lit aflame and people had to pluck a fat raisin from the fiery depths. She had never played the game herself.

“I think the Duke of Stedton ought to take the lead.” A dry, papery voice spoke up. Everyone in the room turned to find Lord Venerton, quite awake, his dark eyes glittering in the semi-darkness.

William gave a charming smile and stepped forward. “By all means.” He rolled up the sleeve of his left arm, the one without the burn.

A servant touched a candle to the brandy, and blue flames leapt to life over the smooth surface amid the gasps and delighted coos of the small crowd. A muscle worked along William’s jaw and the jovial expression on his face looked more carved than natural.

It was cruel to make a man who had narrowly escaped from fire to plunge his good arm into a bowl of it. No doubt Lord Venerton knew as much.

Apparently, he did deserve his wife.

“Come now,” Julia said. “Shouldn’t it be ladies first?”

William startled and glanced down at her, his bared forearm held aloft.

“I’ll have a go of it, if you don’t mind, Your Grace.” Before he could protest, she pushed her sleeve’s dangling lace from her elbow and plunged her hand into the fire.

The brandy was warm, but even the flames were not hot where they whispered harmlessly over her skin. This was not nearly as frightening as she had always assumed. Her fingers skirted along the bottom, seeking out the lump of an unseen raisin. One brushed at her fingertips.

Blast. She’d missed it.

Her hand pushed forward and nudged the thing again. She chased it about the bowl, determined not only to catch the confounded thing, but to win the game. After all, when she won, she could choose her own prize.

Her arm was stretched out over the wide bowl now. The raisin couldn’t escape her now.

“Your Grace, mind your sleeve,” Lady Cecelia said in her gentle voice.

But the hunt was on. And one deft little grab was all Julia needed to grasp the raisin and win the game. Julia straightened and was met with a flash of light.

“You’re on fire,” Lady Bursbury exclaimed.

Julia jerked back, but the flames came with her. She was truly on fire.

FIRE, an all-consuming beast that destroyed everything in its wake, turning lives to ash. Years had passed, and yet still William could recall the torment of it on his skin, the flames licking over healthy flesh and burning it away.