Page 73 of Unmasking a Wicked Marquess
Chapter 23
Edward’s eyes zeroed in on the one person he had been waiting for all night. Through the crowded heads of those gathered at the ball, he saw Juliet, though she hadn’t yet noticed him. She appeared to be sticking to the walls as much as she could do, scarcely making conversation with anyone and preferring her own company.
She sipped from her wine glass, clearly having no idea that she was being watched so intently, then placed the glass down on a nearby table. Walking to a set of glass doors, she looked out onto the garden.
Edward stepped forward. As he moved, the same thing occurred that had been happening all night. Pairs of eyes swung towards him. Wary mothers eyed him cautiously, and men glowered at him, either perceiving him to be the rogue the scandal sheets painted him as or viewing him as competition for other ladies’ affection in the room.
Edward purposefully didn’t return any of their looks. Instead, he sought out his sister in the room, who had agreed to come to the ball under protest when Amelia had explained that by braving the ton and not shying away from them in the wake of the scandal sheets, they would look like a stronger family. They might even manage to make people question whether the gossip was true or not.
Seeing Jane was caught up in conversation with Freddie, Edward saw his chance.
He crossed the room. Careful to keep to the walls and drawing the least attention as possible, he stopped close behind Juliet.
She still hadn’t noticed him but stared out of the glass doors, clearly much more interested in what she saw in the garden than in this room. Edward hovered near her shoulder, uncertain how to approach her now without someone in the room seeing.
Then, the perfect opportunity presented itself. Across the room, Lady Violet happened to walk into a table. With a clatter of glasses that all fell over, some smashing, every pair of eyes in the room turned towards her.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” As Violet proclaimed her apologies loudly, Edward took his chance.
He approached Juliet and took her hand. She pulled back on impulse, clearly not having seen his face yet, but he didn’t stop and dragged her towards the doors.
“Edward, what are you doing?” she hissed.
“Please, just come.” He tugged her through the doors, and though she fought back, she couldn’t have been pushing that hard, for it wasn’t exactly difficult to get her through the door. They stumbled onto the terrace together, and he shut the glass doors behind them, being careful to lead her further down the terrace to talk to her, far away from where anyone could see them.
“Edward, release me at once!” she demanded.
I cannot refuse her.
He did as she asked. He would never frighten her, never hurt her. With her hand free, she stumbled back and collided with the stone balustrade that lined the terrace.
“What are you doing?” she asked wildly, her violet eyes flashing silver in the moonlight. “Why are you here? Why are you trying so much to talk to me when … when …” Words seemed to fail her.
She’s hurting.
Edward could not fathom why, but he saw it now, clear as day. This was why she had been avoiding him so much. Whatever had happened, it had caused her pain, and that was why she had retreated.
“God’s wounds, Juliet, there is so much I want to say to you right now.” He moved towards her, not touching her, as she had asked him to release her, but placing his hands either side of her on the balustrade, bringing their faces close together. Her eyes shot to his, and he felt all the need to speak his mind fade as he looked at her.
In its place, that need was filled with another: a desperate urge to kiss her, to show through actions rather than words what she meant to him. “How I have missed you these last few days,” he whispered.
Her eyebrows raised, and she no longer leaned away from him. Daring to touch her again, he gently raised his hand up her arm, trailing his fingers there, then slid his hand up her shoulder and to the back of her neck, pulling her in for a kiss.
She kissed him back with such sudden fervour he felt his body was being engulfed in flames. She bit his lip, toying with it, begging for entrance, and he gladly gave it. Parting their lips completely, their tongues clattered together in a fierce dance. His body moulded to hers against the balustrade, trying to get nearer to her.
With her body flattened to his, he could feel the curves of her breasts through their clothes. His other hand even found her hip, pulling her an inch back towards him, creating the friction between their bodies he had craved so much.
The heat would destroy him; he was certain of it now. Any kiss was not enough; any look was not enough. He needed more, constantly, and it would not be sated with one night, just as that one pained look she had given him crushed his soul.
I need you, Juliet. I need you to stay with me.
Their tongues continued to dance, and he grew aware of where her hands were. They moved down his chest, one finger curling around the edge of his waistcoat, a hint of what could pass between them if they removed it. Her other palm found the area atop his trousers and just pressed flat against his abdomen. The closeness of her touch made him tremble against her.
“Juliet,” he whispered between fleeting kisses. “There is something I must ask you.” She tipped her head back, and he moved his lips to her neck, kissing every bit of exposed skin he could find between his words. “I need to ask you now before you look at me once more with those hurt eyes.” He kissed her again, and she whimpered against his lips. “Please, I –”
Before he could finish, another voice cut him off, and it wasn’t Juliet’s.
“Edward? Are you out here? Edward?” It was Clarissa’s voice.
