Page 42 of The Wolf and the Wildflower
That lush mouth hitched in an imperceptible smile, but she made no reply to that assertion. An undeniable curiosity rose within him as he watched her. She looked around them, noting they were on the edges of the woods and the main house was some distance away.
“Monsieur Gillespie touched you without your permission,” she murmured.
Their gazes collided.
“Are you so certain I did not try to murder him because I am a beast?”
“If that had been your intention, I daresay you would have succeeded. You do not strike me as a man who does anything with half measure.”
“Is that a sort of delicately placed rebuke?” he drawled. “Am I to now feel encouraged to continue lessons, hmm?”
“Only honesty between us, Your Grace. I would not try to manipulate you.”
“There will be no more lessons.”
A small frown flickered on her face. “These lessons are important. Please consider—”
He felt the indifference wind itself around his heart. “There will be no more lessons.”
Frustration flashed in her eyes, but she did not offer any further protestation. Silence lingered between them for several moments before she softly said, “Touching reaffirms safety and security. That you were deprived for so long was incredibly painful, James. You no longer believe in many things…and it is quite normal that you would only allow those whom you perhaps…trust with that privilege. I understand why you have dismissed Monsieur Gillespie and I want you to know the rage you possibly felt, the disgust…is also normal, because he violated your boundaries.”
James stiffened. That understanding he’d not anticipated, and though something raw and primal inside him rejected the compassion in her eyes, something else far more insistent lurched toward this creature. Driven by an imperative need that overwhelmed his good senses, James leaned forward and reverently inhaled her—the forgotten fragrance of summer and peach blossoms. The tight tension he’d not been fully cognizant of eased, and he carefully guarded her scent within his chest.
“You are too close,” she whispered shakily, her scent changing, becoming more sultry and sweet.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
The rush of her heartbeat filled that scant space between their bodies. Suddenly hunger fell against his heart like a hammer. James wanted Jules Southby.
He had to hold his body very, very still to fight the primal urges beating through his blood, the one urging him to drag her beneath him and ruthlessly seduce. The pounding waves slowly subsided, and he leaned away. Only then did Jules roll away from him, coming up to her knees before standing. Southby brushed the wet grass from her trousers, careful to keep her eyes from James. But he did not need to see her expression—her ever-shifting scent told him everything yet not enough. Without bidding him farewell, she rushed away from him, heading toward the main house.
…
A couple hours after Southby had hurried away, James entered the main house of his estate, enjoying the peace found in the emptiness of the prodigious hallway. He usually stayed deep within the woods for hours each night, retreating inside on the cusp of dawn. Tonight…he wanted to be inside, and he idly wondered if his extraordinary encounter with Jules Southby had influenced his decision.
As he turned to step onto the first stair, a sound arrested his attention. James frowned, glancing down the hallway toward the music room where the lonely ping of the piano keys lingered in the air. He ignored it, only to pause halfway up the curving staircase as a haunting melody sounded. It was usual for the house to be quiet, everyone exhausted by the mind games of the day, tiptoeing around him, or the mental energy they inputted dissecting his every gesture and action, or pretend they were not keenly watching and whispering about his supposed feral nature. Later on today, he just might bare his teeth to his aunt, to see if she swooned.
James turned around and quietly went back down the stairs toward the music that plucked a most peculiar chord within his chest. The person who played was…unhappy, or perhaps adrift and unable to find an anchor against whatever they felt or endured. The door stood ajar, bright light seeping into the hallway. He eased the door open and faltered.
It was Felicity. The fireplace roared, staving off the chill coming inside from the open windows. The two gas lamps provided ample illumination for her to read the music sheet, though James did not think she followed it. His sister was garbed in a flowing light blue nightgown, her feet were bare, and her dark raven locks tumbled down to her hips. He noted the open decanter of brandy on the rosewood table by the fireplace and the empty glass beside it.
Felicity stirred restlessly, running her fingers over the keyboard, her expression a tight grimace of emotions he did not understand. James considered her, thinking of the last time he had laughed and romped with his sister. Ten years separated them, and he vaguely recalled how happy he had been at her birth. As she grew, he had been a proud older brother who found every opportunity to dote on his sister. She had been a small thing, always under foot. And he…he had adored her. He pressed a hand over his chest, wanting to rekindle those old feelings of warmth and affection. He felt…nothing. The shock that covered his senses felt cold and dark.
Her shoulders stiffened, and he gathered she sensed his presence. James noted that those elegant fingers hovering over the piano keys trembled before she formed them into fists. She took a deep breath and shifted fully on the bench to face him. They stared at each other across the expanse of the room, her eyes wide with apprehension, and James was uncertain as to what he should be feeling. Since his return, they had never been alone. She had not sought his presence, and he had treated hers with mild indifference, for the loving bond they’d formed had been stagnated by necessity.
“You startled me. I did not anticipate your return,” she said, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ears. Her gaze lowered to his bare toes and damp hair. “You normally stay in the woods.”
The soft, hesitant sound of her voice jolted him. He recalled her to own an unflinching spirit, daring to do so many things as a child even when the duchess tried to restrain or scold her. Who was this young lady who looked upon him as if he were a creature she did not know, or perhaps one she feared knowing? James shoved his hands inside his trouser pockets, feeling an unknown sensation writhing around inside his chest. He did not like it. “Do you wish to be alone?”
She hesitated, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ears. At her continued silence, James chose for her, releasing the latch and turning around.
“Please do not go!”
He glanced over his shoulder, noting how she now stood with her hands fisted at her sides.
“I think that is the most you have said to me since your return,” she said with a shaky little smile. “Please do not go.”
Surely, they had conversed. Yet he could not recall it. She had always hovered in the background of everyone’s chatter, watching him with wounded eyes and an emotion akin to fear. A tight feeling wrenched through his chest, and James turned around, closing the door behind him with a smallsnick. He went to the rosewood table, lifted the decanter, and poured a healthy serving into two glasses. “Will you join me for a drink, Felicity?”
