Page 82 of The Earl Takes All
“I promised you time and you shall have it.” Stepping away from her, he went to get the music box.
She was a silly woman to mourn the distance that now separated them when she had been the one to insist upon it.
He offered his arm. “I’ll escort you up.”
They were silent as they went up the stairs, and yet there was nothing uncomfortable in it. He wasn’t resentful or angry, nothing untoward shimmied off him. At her door, he handed her the box.
“Sleep well, Julia.”
Then he was gone, jogging down the steps at a steady clip, the click of his footsteps echoing up. She went into her bedchamber, walked to the window and sat in the chair. Holding the music box on her lap, she wound it up, leaned back, closed her eyes and let the music and the memories overtake her.
She had no plans to compare brothers. Still, what she felt for Edward was unlike anything she’d ever before experienced. It was vibrant, alive, intense. It frightened her, if she were honest. It was as though he had the power to reach into her and expose every secret she’d ever possessed—without shame, remorse, or guilt. Surely it could not be healthy, surely they would burn up if they gave in to their desires. But it was more than a touch of the flesh, it was a touching of souls, a commonality of passion.
She had loved once, loved still, but the stirrings in connection with Edward were vast, encompassed more than the whole, seemed to reach beyond what was safe and secure. Yet how could she contemplate not surrendering?
Chapter 20
Ashe tossed back his scotch, Edward considered stripping down to his trousers and racing barefoot over hill and dale, taking a plunge into an icy river, finding a wolf or wild hog to wrestle. He took small comfort in the fact that she was not immune to his charms, that she did desire him, otherwise she wouldn’t be so wary regarding where his kiss might lead.
Straight to her bed if he had his way with it.
The odd thing was, he understood her reluctance, had no wish to be a substitute for his brother. He wanted her feelings to be for him, separate from what she’d felt for Albert. He didn’t expect them to ever be as strong or as large in scope, but he did want to be the one in possession of them.
He could honestly admit that he had never felt for any woman what he felt for her. It bloody well terrified him, and yet walking away was not even a consideration. Her company from a distance was better than not having her company at all.
Patience had never been his strong suit, but for her, he would bide his time. For her, he would have unique musical boxes crafted. For her, he would drink less. For her, he would give whatever was within him to give.
For her, he would toss and turn a good bit of the night, and wake up in a foul mood that required a cup of coffee stronger than his usual. He’d taken one sip that nearly blistered the roof of his mouth when she strolled into the breakfast dining room, wearing a black dress that was comprised of too much material and far too many buttons. She was done up tight, but still a sense of welcome relief washed through him. He shot to his feet. “Good morning. Is something amiss?”
She smiled sweetly. “I decided it was silly of me to eat alone when I could enjoy breakfast in your company. If you don’t mind if I join you, that is. I suppose I should have asked first. Perhaps you prefer to begin your day in solitude.”
The way she was prattling on, he wondered if she were nervous, fearful that he might not welcome her presence. She could join him in his bath if she wanted. “I’ve never much cared for solitude. By all means, please join me.”
She wandered over to the sideboard, made her selections, and took her place at the foot of the table. Smart girl. If she sat within reach, he would touch her. Wouldn’t be able to help himself. Just gliding a finger over her hand, her cheek would suffice to lessen his need to possess her.
Fool, nothing was going to lessen that.
Resisting the urge to pick up his plate and move nearer to her, he dropped into his chair, sipped his coffee, aware that it was now too strong, as his mood had improved considerably.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
“Not really. You?”
“Horribly.”
She bestowed upon him a gamine smile. “Why does that please me, I wonder?”
“Because you’re a little witch, and you know you’re the cause for my restless night.”
“I would not presume—”
His laughter quieted her. “You deny me a kiss and you don’t think you’re responsible?”
She glanced around as though hoping the servants had all suddenly gone deaf. He wished he could make her completely comfortable discussing their passionate natures. Then the full weight of her blue gaze fell on him. “Would a kiss have made it better?”
He released a deep sigh. “No. I suspect it would have made it all the worse, but a small price to pay for the flavor of your lips upon my tongue.”
Even at this distance, he could see the deep crimson blush creeping up her face. He rather imagined that it began at her toes. He’d like to kiss those toes, the arch of her foot, her ankles, and journey all the way up to the haven between her thighs.
