Page 53 of The Wolf and the Wildflower
Jules frowned, pulling up on her recollection of the matter. “Her parents considered her wild and difficult, unmanageable was the phrase the townspeople used. They even thought she might be afflicted, given her behavior was so wildly different from what they or society expected. Louise was only twelve years of age…at the time only two years younger than myself. My father took her into our home and tried to help her. He would spend so many hours trying to speak with her…to study and understand her reasoning so he could alter, or I should say positively influence her behavior through understanding and guidance. She resisted Father at every instance, and he concluded she might need to be institutionalized. My heart broke for Louise, and I wanted to understand the pain in her eyes. I wanted to help her. I started speaking to her…without any expectations of reciprocity.”
Jules leaned her head against the wooden slat behind her. “It took days, but I did not mind that she remained indifferent to my overtures. I hungered to understand her because I wanted to help her. Slowly Louise opened to me, revealing the wound that haunted her.”
“What was it?”
Jules smiled. “Love.”
He arched a brow and made a low, rough sound of disbelief in his throat. “Love?”
“Louise lacked love from both her parents. She had never known what it was like to have their arms around her, to feel the comfort of their touch, or to bask in their praises and acceptance.”
“Such a simple thing would see her altered?”
“Yes, because it is not really that simple, is it?” Jules held his gaze. “Love is the compelling reason behind life.”
The duke went remarkably still. “Do expound.”
“How does one live without love when it is so intrinsic. How do we not desperately long for it,” she said, aware of a hidden part of her opening within his presence. “Love can be affectionate, kind, tender, forgiving, and passionate, but it should never hurt or deliberately inflict wounds. Loveishealing…enchanting…even bewitching. That Louise had lacked the foundation of such essential needs from her parents, it was logical that she would then be denied it also in adulthood because she did not know how to recognize love and might be led down dangerous paths to seek that which she did not understand she longed for.”
“Did Louise heal?”
“It took months but yes. She learned to understand her actions and what it was she lacked and the healthy, sustainable way to achieve it. Louise is also recently married and is quite happy. I loved that there were theories that could teach me about someone’s wound and how to help them overcome those wounds to enjoy a better life. How could I not study it more?”
There was a curious glint in his gaze as he stared at her. “Is that why you are here now, to help me heal a perceived wound?”
Jules said tenderly, “You are not addled. You are lonely, perhaps feeling a hollowness that you do not understand. That empty feeling inside was born from being alone for so long without human touch or interaction…and because you had to use your will to conquer your fear of death and loss, you have exiled yourself from feeling. The more you share with me and your family the less alone you will feel, James. The more you allow touch…life will once again feel normal. I am here at Longbourn park to help you realize this, but I am here tonight in this tree cottage because I want to be with you.”
Something intense flared through his eyes, and she suddenly felt out of sorts. They stared at each other for several long moments. Finally he asked, in a gruff tone, “What do you long for, Wildflower?”
“I am quite content with my lot in life,” she said, aware of the sudden racing in her heart, and the desperate ache of an unfulfilled longing she did not understand. The duke could tell her heartbeat had increased. Dropping her foot from the ledge, she stood. “I should return inside.”
She did not wait for his answer but surged toward the door. Jules felt as if she were running away, and a part of her hated that she did, for she did not shy away from complex situations but yearned to understand them. Also, why did being here with the duke suddenly feel so damnable complicated? Her steps faltered at the wide-open entrance, and she whirled around only to gasp.
“I did not hear you move,” she said, peering up at him, aware of how close he was to her.
His lips quirked slowly. “It is a skill I’ve mastered over the years. Your scent changed when I asked what you longed for…so tell me.”
Her gaze dropped to the cruel yet sensual curve of his mouth. A delicate thread of intimacy interlaced itself around them.
“Ah…now I see,” the duke murmured.
She wrenched her gaze to his, noting the dangerous glitter lurking in the depths of his eyes. “What do you see, Your Grace?” she demanded caustically.
“You want the same thing that I want. Only you are afraid of it.”
Those words snapped taut from him, as if he deplored the very idea of weakness or fear. It caused all of her senses to feel raw and painfully aware of him—her heart was beating absurdly fast and erratic. Jules hated that she felt as if she would crumple if she did not kiss him. The want clawing through her was a terrible thing indeed.
I am afraid of nothing, she wanted to snarl, yet she made no reply, only lurched toward him as if some inexorable force shoved her.
Perhaps the duke moved as well, for suddenly he was there, cupping her cheek and lifting her face upward. His fingers speared into her hair, clenching into the short, silky strands as his lips covered hers. His tongue claimed hers with possessive hunger, and she sighed helplessly into his kiss, the wicked sensation of wanting to crawl inside his skin claiming Jules.
His kiss did things. To her, to her body. She felt an ache low in her belly…and even lower. The feeling made her hot and restless, and she made that little sound in the back of her throat again and pressed closer to him. It felt as if the duke sucked her inside of himself and consumed her.
He spun with her, pressing her back into the rough wood of the tree house. There was a desperate air to their kisses, and she craved it, moulding her body to his, all but climbing his leg to get closer. James touched her everywhere, the curve of her throat, the press of his thumb against her pulse, a drag of his palm over the slimness of her back, and down to the lush curves of her backside.
He nudged her legs apart with his powerful thighs and settled in the space he’d created. She arched to James, her own thighs widening, her body straining against him. He broke their kiss, his fingers inching down her stomach, slowly, so slowly until he was at the opening of her trousers.
Jules couldn’t look away from the savage beauty of his gaze. His gray-blue eyes were drowsy, dark with sensual heat. He tugged the shirt loose, opened her trousers, and shoved them down. There was something savage and arousing about his intensity. Jules felt faint, yet she did not stop him. She couldn’t, not when she wanted his touch so much. His fingers delved between her folds, and she opened her legs as far as the trousers would allow in instinctive want.
