Page 64 of The Wolf and the Wildflower
Excitement leaped in her veins. “In what capacity, Papa?”
His eyes crinkled at the corner. “The compensation is not very impressive, but the work will be very rewarding, and I believe your dedication, intelligence, and empathic nature would be a great asset. I was invited to become a part of the team at Our Lady of Bethlehem in London. You know many of our vulnerable citizens with mental malaise or distemper of the brain are cared for almost entirely by their families. This is not the proper care when our skills and compassion can assist in curing or even alleviating their pain. New funding has been made available by the Queen for specialized care.”
Jules took a deep breath. “I would love to be a part of your team, Father, and I would be happy to stay on for a couple of years before I leave for Italy. I have also missed you and Mama, very much, in my time abroad.”
“Good.” Pleasure sparked in his gaze, and he rested a hand across her shoulders, gently patting her. “Your mother will be happy that I convinced you to stay.”
“That hardly took convincing,” she said with a smile. “I am very pleased with this opportunity.” Jules had always wanted the practical experience of working beside her father in the field and that he would offer it now showed her how much he believed in her. That wistful ache to share everything rose within her and she forcefully suppressed it.
They spoke for a few more minutes before they returned to the main house. As Jules strolled past the duke’s private study, she noted the door was slightly ajar. He’d not invited her into his space and she knew she should continue walking by. But her feet slowed as if commanded by an external force, and Jules paused at the door, noiselessly easing it open.
He stood by the mantle, resting his elbow on the mantelpiece, his other hand thrust deep into his hip pocket, his side profile stark in his aloneness. His hair was unbound, its raven locks flowing over his shoulders in a curtain of silk. His cravat had been removed along with his jacket. Her fingers itched to brush back one errant lock from his forehead, to stand beside him and help him shoulder whatever he seemed to brace against. A quick glance around the room revealed it was the same as when she had first met him. He’d added nothing to the space except a few more books which were strewn across the carpet.
Jules’s belly tightened. He still found comfort in emptiness. Something dark and unfamiliar moved through her body. His lashes fluttered closed, pleasure flushed along his savagely elegant cheekbones, and it was in that moment she knew he smelled her. His regard shifted to her, and that aloneness that had cloaked his body gleamed in his eyes. Jules then realized all the chatter and activity surrounding the duke had not touched him. His assimilation was a mere pretense for his mother…perhaps his family. She felt the weight of his solitary existence and wanted to wrench it from him, carry its weight if only for a moment’s reprieve.
Jules couldn’t say why she did it, but she went over to him, cupped his jaw between her hands, tipped onto her booted toes, and pressed her mouth to his.
Give me your emptiness, she silently whispered, kissing him with all the stirring passion she held in her heart for him. An inarticulate sound thrummed from somewhere within the duke, but he did not haul her into his arms, merely allowed her to coax and to seduce. She bit his lower lip, then licked that spot to remove the sting.
Oh God, he tasted good.So good.
Their tongues glided against each other, their mouths greedy as they consumed each other. Lust pulsed between their bodies and the flesh between Jules’s legs heated. He groaned and she sighed, sucking on his tongue until he growled against her lips. That primal, provocative sound hooked low in her belly and pulled, twisting dark sensations of lust to throb inside her sex.
He kissed her as though he were starved for her, he brushed his fingers over her face, through her hair, because he had clearly needed to touch her. Jules allowed his touch, holding herself still and giving James whatever he needed. Instinctively she coasted her fingers over his brows, his jawline and throat, granting him also the privilege of her touch.
He cupped her cheeks, dipped slightly, and kissed her with violent tenderness.
“I do not understand the why of it, but I needed this,” he said against her mouth, before kissing her deeply.
When they parted, her breath came in shuddering gasps, and it took a few seconds before she regained her composure. Fingers trembling, she lowered them from his jaw, pulled back, and without speaking, turned and walked away. The duke did not bid her to stop or to keep his company, so Jules kept walking, shocked to see the door had been left ajar, and she had almost recklessly compromised them. Her heart shaking, she took a deep breath to steady herself.
We must be more careful.
She went over to the west wing, entered her chamber, and closed the door. Jules carefully removed the moustache, then went over to the wash basin and cleaned the stage paint from her face. Next she removed all her clothes, and the bindings over her breasts.
Walking over to the bed, she lay down on the sheets, moaning at the cool feel under her naked skin. Dampness lingered between her thighs, the ache in her nub throbbed, and her nipples were hard. Desire was such a curious and fascinating sensation. A sound in the hallway had her gripping the sheets into a fist.
Would he come into her room?
She listened to the sound of his door opening and closing. Jules waited, aware she was naked on the sheets, and that the door connecting their chambers was not locked with a key. She stared at that connecting door until her eyes smarted, then she took long, deep breaths. Jules wanted James until she was burning for it. She wanted to feel the heavy heat of his powerful body atop hers, she wanted to feel that hardness beneath his trousers sliding over her sex. She wanted to lick his flesh, taste him all over. She understood the anatomy of lovemaking and craved to experience it in full—but only with the duke.
Jules tipped her head to the ceiling, releasing the sheets to trail her fingers over the smooth hollow of her belly, down to hover above her mons, breathing out a small, strangled groan at the sensation sparking under the tip of her fingers.
What would it be like to feel him there…
A distant corner of her mind was warning Jules to beware, that she was sliding too deep, but she ignored it. What would it feel like when he entered her with his cock? Would it hurt or would she only feel the wicked pleasure his tongue had bestowed?
Closing her eyes, she allowed her fingers to fall away from the temptation of exploring her folds. Jules turned onto her stomach, relishing the cool feel of the sheets on her heated flesh. She thought of the ball tomorrow, and imagined James dancing with the ladies, one of whom would inevitably become his duchess.
A pinprick of discomfort lanced at her chest, and she shied away from examining the nature of such feelings. Instead, she closed her eyes and imagined what it would be like to be held in James’s arms, dressed as a lady, dancing under glittering chandeliers holding a hundred candles.
A most improper notion unfurled inside her heart, and she gasped, snapping her eyes open. Here was an opportunity to bask in another thing she might never experience with anyone but the duke. What if she should attend the ball? The idea felt far too wicked, scandalous, and improbable. She would only have a day to prepare. Where would she even procure a ballgown that would make her worthy to walk in a duchess’s grand ballroom?
“Do not be silly,” she whispered in the silence of her bedchamber, “this is a foolhardy idea.”
Jules groaned at her recklessly daring heart and closed her eyes once more.
What if I am recognized? My father and I would have to leave at once and in disgrace. How will Papa react if he discovers my duplicity so suddenly, and on the heels of being sent away?
