Theresa Romain - Season for Temptation

James shook his head, not sure whether to be amused or angry. “Heaven knows what was in that punch, but apparently it was quite spiritous.” He smelled the dregs in the glass in her hand, and recoiled at the powerful scent. “Yes, quite.”

As Julia hiccupped again, looking shocked, James decided to feel amused. Anger could wait until later, when he could get his hands on Freddie Pellington. What had that silly ass been thinking, giving spirits to a lady? James remembered dimly that Pellington had mentioned once giving brandy to a baby, so he supposed he shouldn’t be all that surprised. But still, the situation called for quick action.

“We’ve got to get you home before someone notices your, ah, condition,” he explained, helping Julia to rise. “Are you all right? Can you walk?”

She nodded her assent, but leaned against him bonelessly when he started to move, and he realized they needed to leave the ballroom at once. Making his way with her toward the door, he signaled to a footman and asked to have his carriage brought round.

“Stay here,” he admonished Julia, propping her against a wall. She nodded sleepily.

He looked doubtfully at her lolling head. How were they going to get out of here without anyone noticing her condition? He coaxed, “I will tell your aunt Estella to give you all the breakfast you want in the morning if you can pick your head up and smile normally at everyone who goes by for the next three minutes.”

It was the right thing to say. Instantly Julia’s head snapped up, and her eyes flew open. “Do you mean it?”

“Yes, I mean it. Ham, eggs, porridge — if her cook can make it, you can eat it. Now, stay right here and just nod and smile if anyone speaks to you. I am going to take our leave of Lord and Lady Alleyneham, and I’ll leave a message for your aunt.”

She nodded her comprehension, but he still felt skeptical about her ability to hold herself up, and he dispatched his errands with his host and hostess as quickly as he could. He found Lady Irving herself, too, playing whist with friends in the very card room he had left several hours before. Her bright violet turban was upended on the table next to her to hold her winnings, denuded of its plumes, which she had stuck down into her bodice for safekeeping.

On receiving his assurance that Julia was “just tired,” she nodded distractedly and said she would be home later, if he would just send the carriage back for her. He left the room accompanied by her gleeful shouts, her friends’ groans, and the bobbing of those blasted plumes as she reached forward to rake in another pile of winnings and, crowing with triumph, drop them coin by coin into the turban.

Swiftly, he made his way back to Julia, finding her just as he had left her. “I was wonderful,” she assured him, wobbling slightly as she pushed herself upright, away from the wall. “I smiled at everyone and no one suspected a thing.”

“That’s excellent,” he soothed, and retrieving her wrap from a waiting servant, he led her away from the crowds and out into the blessed coolness and quiet of the night air. The sounds of gaiety receded behind them as they left the house, and the slam of the carriage door shut them into a silent world.

James breathed a sigh of relief at their just-in-time exit from the party before becoming uncomfortably aware that, despite his vow to keep his distance, he was alone with Julia.

In a closed carriage.

At night.

And she was tipsy.

Oh, Lord.

James shut his eyes in despair. Why? Why did this have to happen to him? Why should he be thrown into this situation — to have temptation rubbed in his face, practically? He tried to be a good person. He was a good person. Well, except for the whole loving-hisfiancée’s-sister thing.

His clothes felt uncomfortably tight and hot, and he shifted as far away from Julia as he could. Staring at the carriage floor, he pressed his lips together, determined not to speak. He would hold still and remain silent, for as long as it took. The ride would be short, and then it would be over and he would be out of danger once more.

But a snarl of carriages blocked their way, and James could hear the coachman shouting oaths at the other drivers whose masters and mistresses were still inside, not yet ready to leave the crush indoors to create one outdoors. He shook his head in despair. This would take a while.

Well, it didn’t matter how long it took. It could take seven years, and he would not speak. He would hold still. For as long as it took. Surely he was capable of that much.

Maybe if he thought it over and over again, it would become true.

“What’s wrong?” asked a soft voice from the other side of the carriage.

“Pardon?” Damn. He’d sworn not to speak. But he couldn’t ignore a direct question.

“I could see you shaking your head. Is something wrong?”

“Oh. No. The carriage has to wait before it can leave.”

“Oh,” Julia echoed. After a pause came her voice again. “Well, that’s all right, isn’t it? I like waiting with you.”

James felt even hotter, and he tugged at his neckcloth. “Err. .” was the only sound he could force out of his mouth. Not his finest reaction ever.

“Let me help,” said Julia, sliding toward him on the carriage seat. “I know you are very stylish, but there’s no need to be uncomfortable now that we’re alone. And it must be so scratchy to have that giant cloth around your neck all the time.” Small hands ministered to him, deftly undoing the intricate knots and folds of his neckcloth, and James groaned.

“Did I hurt you?” Julia asked, concerned. “Did I strangle you or something? I really didn’t mean to strangle you.”

“You didn’t,” James replied, his voice sounding very strangled indeed.

“Oh, good,” she said. With a laugh, she admitted, “I’ve never removed a gentleman’s clothes before.”

He cleared his throat and tried to speak, but no sound came out. He swallowed, then tried again. “Julia, that is not a proper comment for a young lady to make.”

“I was just joking,” she said, sounding defensive. After a pause, she continued, “Well, not really. I mean, it really was a joke in that I said it for humorous purposes, but it is also literally true.”

James sat in silence, trying desperately not to think of clothes being removed. His clothes, her clothes, his clothes being removed by her, her clothes being removed by him. . no, it was no use; he simply couldn’t get the images out of his head. He groaned again.

The small sound, which he tried to stifle, seemed to inspire Julia to continue.

“I hope you know I would only say that to you.”

“Yes, well, I feel very comfortable making amusing comments around you as well,” he said stiffly. It was a lie, of course; he felt anything but comfortable. When was this cursed carriage going to get on its way? Desperately, he looked out the window, and the slanting moonlight showed him that he was still caught in a great snarl of traffic.

Wonderful. He obviously must have done something terrible without knowing it, because the Fates were tempting him viciously. He shifted as far away from Julia as he could.

But she spoke on, her words weaving a quiet spell. “No, I mean. . I would only want you to hear me say such things. Things that are improper.”

Even in the moonlit darkness, he swore he could see the hot color rising in her cheeks. His groin tightened. What was she saying? Good God, how could this be happening to him? It was like a dream and nightmare at once, as her hand found his fingers and then his knee. And then began moving up his leg.

“You don’t know what you’re saying or doing,” he said huskily, removing her hand from his thigh but keeping it held in his clasp. “That’s the punch acting on you.”

“No, it’s not,” she insisted, her enunciation overly precise.

“Well, maybe it is a little,” she admitted, “but only because it let me tell you what I’ve been thinking for a long time.” She began to laugh raggedly. “I can’t believe I said that, though. Or touched you. I’m going to be so embarrassed in the morning.”

Her laugh trailed off, and she looked straight into his eyes. She withdrew her hand from his to press it firmly against her other hand, it seemed for courage.

“But right now I don’t care. I know I am just a silly country girl who says the wrong thing, and eats too much to be ladylike, and likes ton parties because they use beeswax candles, and gets impressed by stupid things like new gowns, and — oh, God — and you’re going to marry my sister.”

Her intense gaze dropped, and she rubbed her hands over her face impatiently. “I know you love my sister, and you’re going to be married. But I love you, and I think of you all the time, and I think of you in ways that I shouldn’t. And I didn’t intend for you ever to know, but it was just bursting inside me, and now I am glad I told you.”

“Julia,” he said softly, and his voice broke. He couldn’t go on. He had no idea what to say, anyway, so he simply took her hand back again, savoring the feel of her slim fingers in his. He felt as if his heart were breaking and being remade anew, both at the same time.

He tried again to speak. “Julia. I care for you very much. More than you know—”

She cut him off with an impatient gesture and again drew her hand back from his. “I know you do, but I don’t want brotherly love. I want real love. The kind of love that men and women are supposed to have for each other. The love people have in novels. Love like a husband and wife should have, and that I have for you.”