Page 32 of The Earl Takes All
She winged her eyebrows and pressed her teeth into her lower lip. “I’m very much looking forward to the time when I can be naughty.”
His lungs ceased to work as he was bombarded with images of her writhing beneath him on satin sheets, their heated bodies entangled, covered in dew. With great effort, he slid his gaze to the canvas, fully expecting to see a naked goddess.
Instead a mouse wearing trousers, shirt, waistcoat, jacket, and a perfectly knotted cravat greeted him, thankfully dousing his rampaging desires. “Interesting. I didn’t think ladies liked mice.”
And he hoped to hell that she hadn’t shared this little creature with Albert before he left.
She laughed. “I know you’re accustomed to my landscapes, but of late I’ve just had these whimsical creatures fluttering through my mind.”
He walked over to the table with its scattered papers. She had created an entire menagerie of animals dressed in clothing. “They’re very good.”
Stepping up beside him, she rubbed his arm. “Do you think so? You don’t think they’re too silly?”
“I think they’re marvelous.”
As marvelous as the blush that swept over her cheeks. “I thought to have them bound.” Sadness touched her eyes. “I’d considered asking Edward to write a story to go along with them.”
“He’d have liked that.” When he rose from the dead, he would do it. For her, for his brother’s child. He glanced around. This was her room. Even when it was dreary out, it was sunny in here. He was glad she had this room, hoped it would bring her solace in the days to come.
Chapter 8
Aweeklater, galloping his horse through the freezing rain, Edward ignored the sleet that pricked his face and cursed the weather for turning foul so quickly, cursed the farmer who had needed help pushing a wagon out of the mud, cursed his need to have an active role in managing the estates, to check on the tenants, to ensure all was well.
He considered for all of a heartbeat returning to the farm and taking shelter there until the storm passed, but he knew Julia would worry, and his entire purpose behind his ruse was to ensure that she didn’t fret.
And blast it all, he didn’t want to go another moment without seeing her. He wanted to enjoy an evening spent in her company, dining and conversing. Going to bed.
That he was content just lying with her had been a revelation. He liked listening to her breathing, enjoyed inhaling her fragrance when it became laced with the scent of sleep. It was a little different than when she was awake.
Sometimes she snored, more of a soft snuffling sound.
Whether she faced him or had her back to him, her feet always managed to work their way between his calves. And they were bloody cold when they first made their way there. He might have yelped if he didn’t fear discouraging her, as he was fond of having her body oddly interwoven with his.
It was dangerous, so dangerous, how much he enjoyed being in her company. It didn’t matter her reason for being with him. It only mattered that she was—
His horse screamed. He was aware of nothing surrounding him and then pain ricocheting through his shoulder, along his ribs, air refusing to come into his lungs, his eyes tearing up. Rolling to his back, he found himself in danger of drowning from all the rain.Relax, don’t fight the pain. Draw in a little air. Just a little.
It wasn’t the first time in his life that he’d taken a tumble. He doubted it would be his last, but it certainly couldn’t have happened at a more inopportune time. Darkness was descending. And he was so bloody cold.
He thought of the warm fire waiting for him, the warm brandy, and the warm woman.
Pushing himself to a sitting position, he was grateful that his lungs seemed to be working again, even more grateful to see his gelding standing, although it was favoring its left front leg. Damnation. Making his way to his feet, he cautiously approached and knelt before his steed. Gently, he ran his hands over the leg. “Doesn’t appear to be broken. That’s good, but I assume you’ve gone lame.” Taking the reins, he stood and guided the horse forward. It limped but at least it wasn’t screeching in pain.
Edward glanced around, trying to map out the countryside in his mind, calculate distance. When he and Albert had reached their majority, they returned to Evermore and their first order of business was to ride over every inch of land that belonged to them, to introduce themselves to the tenants, to understand exactly what had been left to Albert. Edward had felt no jealousy, no envy, no desire to hold what had been placed in Albert’s keeping. He was content to be the second son, to receive an allowance, to be free of responsibility. Even now he was merely the heir presumptive until Julia delivered her child, hopefully his brother’s heir.
Although he could no longer be completely without responsibility. He would have to see after the raising of his brother’s child. One day he would take the lad on a ride over this land, would introduce him to the tenants, would speak to him of his father. And he would hope that in time he would be able to forget how right it had felt to hold Julia while she slept.
With a frustrated sigh, he realized he was probably as close to the manor house as he was to any tenant lodging where he might be able to leave his horse and borrow another. He was not looking forward to the next couple of hours, but there was no hope for it. “Going to be a long walk, old boy. We’d best get to it.”
More than once, as he began to lose feeling in his hands and feet, he considered stopping, lying down, taking a rest, but he feared if he ceased moving for even a few minutes he would cease moving forever. And that wouldn’t do. Not with Julia waiting for him. Rather, waiting for her husband.
He pictured her working with her watercolors, sporadically looking through the windows toward the hills, striving to spot his dashing figure astride the gelding as it loped down the slope. Edward had deliberately gone in a direction that ensured she would be able to catch sight of him when he returned. But that wasn’t going to happen now. Full darkness was almost upon him.
If he had grown up here, if he knew this land as well as he knew every hill and dale that surrounded Havisham, he might be more confident that he was trudging along the correct path. The sleet and snow obscured the stars. The compass he always carried in his pocket was of little use without light, and he doubted that if he struck a match, he could keep the flame going long enough against the wind to get a bead on the arrow of the compass.
Yet he was determined that one way or another he would make his way back to Julia, he would give her no reason to mourn for a husband she had already lost.
Juliahad done very little that afternoon except stand at the window and watch for her husband’s return. She shouldn’t have let him go out. Had she asked, he would have stayed. She knew he would have. He’d become more solicitous than he’d ever been, given her more attention than he ever had. He’d never really been lacking in either regard, but there was more devotion now—which she’d hardly thought possible.
