Chapter Eleven

“Whoever did you bribe to obtain such glorious weather?” Lady Sommerfeld caught up with Juliette and hooked their arms together. She adjusted the ribbon on her bonnet as the breeze tugged at her playfully. It was a beautiful day—clear, sunny, and warm, though not overly so. Despite this, Ethan had threatened to cancel the outing when he discovered she had planned a walk to the folly by the fishing pond, but there was some deity smiling upon every aspect of that day because he had caved to pressure when it became clear that all their guests wished to partake in the outing. Ethan had bowed to Juliette’s plans with the strict stipulation that she rest when needed and not overtax herself on the excursion. She had bitten her tongue and agreed to his overcautious demands.

The folly was a delightful little building in the form of a rectangular Grecian temple complete with Corinthian columns and replica statues of well-known masterpieces. It was charming in its absurd opulence and provided a lovely point at which to aim a walk. It glittered in winter and provided the perfect amount of shade on warm days. She had spent many a day reading and daydreaming at the small building, watching the clouds drift by and wishing she had been blessed with a healthier childhood and the freedom it afforded.

The folly had been erected by their grandfather beside the man-made fishing pond kept stocked with perch, pike, and other game fish—likely the main draw for the majority of the male guests. And, as Juliette was reminded when she shielded her eyes to look back at the rest of their party, it was only a few minutes’ walk from the main house… She could still make out each window on the three-story building with its horseshoe-shaped layout and honey-colored stone. No matter how much she explained to Ethan that she’d (secretly) gone on longer walks through Hyde Park, told him she felt strong and healthy and there were no problems with her stamina, it mattered not to him. She was adamant that her brother needn’t worry about her overdoing it on this short of a walk. In fact, she had planned it this way in the hopes that he would not object, but, alas, he maintained his poor estimation of her health. She’d been grateful for the pressure of their guests to help push through her plan.

The warm sunlight caught upon a glint of chestnut, dragging Juliette’s eye back from the manor house. Many of the guests had been paired off in polite duos of men and women, but smaller groups had formed as the walk continued. Ethan, escorting the Duchess of Morton, had been joined by Lord Sommerfeld and the group adjusted their pace to accommodate the viscount’s limping gait. Juliette had been originally escorted by her brother’s friend, the affable Earl of Leighton; however, the man had excused himself to put his knowledge of entomology to good use and help identify a type of butterfly particularly enamored with the fresh flowers affixed to Baroness Pole’s bonnet and reassure the poor, excitable woman that it was not, in fact, poisonous. Ian had the honor of escorting both Miss Jocelyn Finchley and her mother, as Mr. Finchley had declined to attend the outing. Ian listened kindly, intently, as Miss Finchley spoke, his chestnut head tilted in her direction. They ambled along, one woman on each arm, and it was difficult for Juliette not to stare…not to remember the way he had held her in those arms and touched her with those large hands. He seemed so much tamer in the daylight, so much less dangerous. But her skin tingled with the memories of the latent power he held in check. How could any woman be near him and not sense it?

“Stare any more intently and even flighty Lord Leighton will take note,” Lady Sommerfeld muttered to Juliette beneath her breath, effectively tearing Juliette’s eyes away from Ian.

“I have no antennae or mandibles, so I sincerely doubt that,” Juliette retorted.

“For what it’s worth,” the red-haired woman leaned in conspiratorially; “he keeps sneaking glances at you, too.” Both knew she wasn’t referring to Lord Leighton.

Juliette ducked her head, hoping the brim of her bonnet would help disguise her growing flush. She was saved from having to reply as their party arrived at the folly. The surface of the pond was like glass, reflecting the glinting white stone of the folly set against the blue sky as a perfect mirror image. Servants had been sent ahead to lay out the blankets and overstuffed pillows, the wicker baskets of food and drink. Small bundles of wildflowers had been gathered and decorated each of the settings. Juliette surveyed the spread, pleased that she’d opted for a more casual arrangement where they sat on the thick green grass rather than asking for tables and chairs to be carted out from the manor. It seemed so frivolous when Mother Nature had already created such a glorious tableau.

“Are we placing wagers on biggest catch?” one of the men called out to Ethan. He wandered over to where the plethora of fishing tackle had been laid out for their pleasure.

“I hardly believe that is fair,” her brother said as he guided Lady Morton to a cushion in the cool shade of the folly. “I’ve been fishing this pond since I was old enough to hold a pole.”

“I’ll take the bet,” another man chimed in.

“Why not?” Lord Sommerfeld said with a shrug. Meredith smiled at her husband.

“Will you join us, Dr. McCullom?” the first man enquired as Ian approached with his walking partners.

“For?”

“A bit of fishing and a friendly wager,” replied the second in an amiable tone.

“Thank you, no. I’ve never been one for fishing.”

“I thought all Scots were avid outdoorsmen,” Ethan said flippantly.

Juliette bit the inside of her cheek. Though Ian’s smile remained unwavering, it did not meet his eyes. She thought she may have been the only one to notice the tautness around his mouth.

“I must have spent too much time in London and cities on the Continent for more rural pursuits,” he finally said evenly.

“What do you do for fun, Dr. McCullom?” Mrs. Finchley asked innocently, oblivious to the low-grade tension.

“I find my medical practice does not allow for all that much time for pursuits of pleasure.”

Juliette barely suppressed a shiver as the word “pleasure” crossed his lips.

“And no wife? No family?” harrumphed the older woman, much to her daughter’s mortification. Any woman of marriageable age knew where this conversation was headed. “Such a shame that a man as intelligent, handsome, and respected as you remains unmarried . A crime, I say!”

Ian smiled indulgently as he helped her to her seat. “Alas, the opportunity has not presented itself.”

Juliette was failing miserably at both not eavesdropping and remaining subtle about it.

“I find that difficult to believe!” the matron said dramatically, batting her eyes up at Ian. “Surely there are many women who would jump at the chance and even improve your life. A woman of a respectable family.” Miss Finchley rolled her eyes to the sky, pleading for the ground to swallow her whole when her mother plodded onward. “A girl like my Jocelyn has the knowledge and training to run a household; to make a home.” Juliette bit back a smile. It wasn’t kind to smile at her friend’s discomfort, but there was something so comforting about a mother’s incessant, shameless desire to find a match for her daughter. She may have felt differently had she had a mother to mortify her or shove her in front of every remotely eligible man in their vicinity.

“I’m certain any man would benefit greatly from having a woman as lovely and kind as Miss Finchley.” Ian smiled warmly, deftly evading Mrs. Finchley’s none-too-subtle hint with practiced ease. Juliette wondered just how often he’d had to do something similar. No doubt he came into contact with any number of amorous ladies and their mamas; she also doubted not that she was the only one to recognize how attractive the doctor was in both mind and body.

She experienced a rapid rush of warmth when Ian’s eyes found her, sweeping across her in one long, languorous caress so poignant she could feel it on every inch of her skin. Her stomach fluttered and her head felt light. It would be easy to attribute it to the sun or the fact that she’d lain awake for much of the night recalling their interlude over and over again, but there was more to it than that. So much more.

The coals smoldering in his simmering gaze promised something dark and forbidden…something that made her simultaneously tingle and ache. The sensation continued long after Ian had removed his eyes and focused on another conversation.

Eager to move onto the fishing, several of the men devoured the cold-cut sandwiches and chilled wine, picked through the variety of fruit, and then hurriedly snatched up the tackle.

Juliette smiled broadly at her brother, who looked almost boyish as he expertly fixed his pole and pawed through the basket holding the collection of shiny feathered lures and hooks and extra line, along with other implements necessary for an afternoon of successful fishing. The premature creases beside his eyes and between the bold slashes of his dark brows softened and his smile was vastly easier than it was when they were in London and Parliament was in session. He’d always been so serious, so prone to gravity and willing to take on the weight of duty, so it was relieving to see him more relaxed than she had in a long, long while. Ethan worked so hard. He was so dedicated to his political causes and the care and well-being of the tenants for whom he was responsible. Still, he found plenty of time to worry about her. Their days contained an undercurrent of concern and censure. She hadn’t been lying when she’d told Ian about how her brother monitored her and did his best to ensure her health and safety by forbidding certain activities and outings.

Juliette had balked at the confinement as she grew older and less able to participate in things of which every young girl of the ton dreamed. All the beautiful gowns meant nothing if there was nowhere to wear them. A carriage ride through Hyde Park grated when, time after time, no suitor accompanied her, and her friends were gradually paired off with matches. She was relegated to the outskirts of the sprinkling of events she’d been able to convince Ethan to allow her to attend. Not once had she been allowed to behave like any other young woman. Ethan played the part of an overzealous guard-dog chaperone and herded her to the chairs with the rest of the wallflowers, all but snarling at any man who dared attempt to approach and ask her to dance.

She’d never danced at a ball.

Not that she’d ever been deemed well enough to learn when all the other girls her age had spent time under the tutelage of a dancing master (and, therefore, she would have made an utter fool of herself in the middle of a crowd)…but it would have been nice to have someone ask. The few interested men couldn’t have possibly known how embarrassed she would have been had they managed to get past her brother—after all, who would possibly consider the daughter and sister of an earl could be lacking such a basic skill of a well-born lady?

During the perfect time of the year when the weather in London wasn’t quite cloying or clogged with soot and the windows of the big houses in Mayfair were thrown open to release heated air and allow sweet, floral-scented breezes from gardens into the overstuffed rooms, music would carry on the breeze and wind its way into her home. Ethan would be at one of those events down the street or across the square, leaving her home alone. Only then, away from her brother’s censure, would she spin and dance, creating her own steps to the tunes until she was dizzy and laughing, breathless with joy and not an illness. She liked to believe the twirls were graceful, that her imaginary partner thought her charming and talented. These stolen moments were her little secret. She’d felt guilty the first few times she’d done it—that she was betraying her brother by defying him and putting her health at risk—but that had gradually melted away.

After all, what point was life if there were no snippets of joy to savor like a secret sweet on your tongue?

A deep male laugh drew her attention past the men spaced out along the reedy shore, focused and intent on their fishing.

Ian.

So much of her life had been wasted waiting. She had been forced to remain passive as she watched a great many wonderful things pass her by.

As she had lain awake the previous night, she had concluded that she was done with all of that; it was well past time she rose to her feet and chased after what she wanted.

And the opportunities smoldering in Ian’s eyes were just that.

∞∞∞

“Dr. McCullom,” Meredith called lightly, beckoning Ian over to the blanket where she and Juliette sat, their skirts gracefully arranged and fanned out around them like halos. “Do join us.”

The women watched as Ian excused himself from a conversation with Lady Morton; there was no denying the way Juliette’s heart kicked up its pace as he made his way over to them. She was in awe of the innate grace with which he moved. For a man so large, he shouldn’t have been able to move with such fluidity…but he did…and she was hard-pressed to look away.

Ian politely inclined his head and greeted them. She noticed he was careful not to allow his gaze to linger upon her too long.

“The folly has some interesting features I know would interest you quite greatly. I thought perhaps Lady Juliette might show them to you.”?“Oh?” Juliette witnessed the fraction of a second where Lady Sommerfeld’s true machinations became apparent to him. She tried not to flush. “It does appear to be quite the interesting bit of architecture. I’d be honored if our hostess would grant me a tour.” He held his large hand down to her and assisted her in rising to her feet. Juliette snuck a surreptitious glance at her brother as she brushed some grass from her skirts, only to find him thoroughly engrossed in his fishing with the other men. One had just landed a respectably large pike and the others were either grousing or congratulating him. Lady Sommerfeld certainly had timed her efforts well; their absence would not be missed and, with the other guests milling about picking flowers or chatting in the shade, it was an entirely plausible excuse.

Ian slipped her arm through his and, together, they meandered in the direction of the folly.

“The folly was built by my grandfather, the Third Earl of Hopesend,” she explained in a tone loud enough that it would carry to anyone nearby. “You can see the Greek influence here in the columns and the—”

Her words were effectively silenced when, as they rounded the side of the building, Ian spun them and pressed his lips and his body to hers, backing her up against one such carved column. Juliette instantly melted against him. Her knees felt like wet sand and her hands scrambled for stability with his lapels. The kiss was strong, possessive, claiming, sending a rush of liquid heat between her thighs to the very spot that had ached and throbbed throughout the long night alone in her bed. She squeezed her legs together to assuage it, but it was useless. The sensations were only heightened when Ian deepened the kiss before breaking away. Their panting breaths collided in the scant space between them.

“That was…”

“What I’ve wanted to do since I saw you this morning.” The deep timbre of Ian’s voice hummed through her chest to tickle every one of her nerve endings; his words thrilled her in unspeakable ways. More of her began to melt as her body swelled with desire. “Have you thought about what we spoke of last evening?”

Her mind moved frustratingly slowly, but she did eventually decipher Ian’s words. She gave a quick nod as her mind caught up.

“And?”

“And…” Juliette’s heart jumped into her throat, making her speech slower than normal. “And I want everything you’ll give to me.” Ian’s face didn’t move, but she watched the dark pools of his pupils swallow nearly every shred of the gold-flecked color of his irises and his pulse hammered in the artery of his strong throat just where it met the top edge of his cravat, his chest heaved in a shaky breath. “And, before you tell me I’ve not considered all of the consequences, believe that I have. I hope you would not insult my intelligence to claim I have not weighed it all and come to this conclusion.”

“In that captivating mind of yours, what do you view as ‘everything’?” he asked with only the hint of a waver to his tone.

All of you , Juliette nearly said before literally biting her tongue. Her mind raced to find a compromise and she then steeled her nerve to voice it aloud.

“I have never had a suitor—not that I believe you to be one, of course, I’ve no disillusions regarding this agreement—and I see none in my future. You gifted me with my first kiss, my first taste of…whatever this is,” she tugged him a bit closer by the lapels until the heat of his body threatened to engulf her; “and I want more.” Ian inhaled sharply. “I want more of these things I cannot describe. For all the books I have read and words I know in different languages, the words escape me.” She felt her cheeks warm, but she persisted. “I think you like this, too. As Lady Sommerfeld said, you and I are two consenting, conscientious adults who are both in dire need of a little fun.”

His lips split into the most glorious of grins and he emitted a low bark of surprised laughter. “Meredith said that, did she?”

Juliette returned his grin with one of her own. “She did. And we likely have only another minute or two before someone notices our absence. She’s adept at redirection, but no one can possibly manage for that long.”

“In that case…” Ian growled before dipping his head once more to kiss her deeply. Her heartbeat thrummed deafeningly in her ears by the time he pulled away. “ Cha do bhlais mi a-riamh dad cho milis ,” he breathed, the words as lilting as the breeze around them, as ancient as the ground beneath their feet.

“What does that mean?”

His wicked mouth tilted ever so slightly on the right side before he leaned in once more, his breath hot on the delicate shell of her ear. “I have never tasted anything so sweet,” he translated for her in a husky tone.

“ Breugach ,” Juliette replied, unsure from where her confidence originated, but proud of herself, nonetheless.

Ian’s burnished brows rose before he threw his head back in unabashed laughter. A pink cloud of pride rose within her. She had done that. She’d surprised him, impressed him, brought that smile to his face. And she’d do anything in her power to do it again.

“I assure you, Juliette, I am no liar,” Ian chuckled and held her closer still. “So believe me when I say you are sweet…in so many ways. And your Gaelic accent isn’t abhorrent.”?“ Abhorrent? ” she snorted in a very unladylike fashion, but couldn’t have cared less.

“I said it is not abhorrent.”

“Am I supposed to accept that as a compliment?”

“Take it how you will,” he replied with a smile. “But next time, say it like this…” He proceeded to show her how to pronounce the depth of the final syllable until she was able to mimic it properly.

“There.” He ran his hand down her arm until he captured her fingers in his. Stepping away, he slid her arm through his once more and they resumed their stroll around the far side of the folly. “Better.”

“I made a few inquiries and was able to find a Scottish maid in the employment of a friend. She spoke a few phrases and words her grandmother had taught her, but there was not much else I could learn. You are far more proficient than she.”

“I am impressed by your resourcefulness.”

“Reading the words can only get me so far; hearing how someone speaks the words, seeing how you form them, is vastly more helpful.”

“Has the book been of interest, then?” Ian inquired lightly, turning to feign interest in a column when one of the other guests strolled away at a far enough angle to have them in view.

“Very much so,” she replied, beaming. “It was yours, wasn’t it? When you were a boy?”

He made a small grunt of assent but did not turn toward her.

“I shall take the best care of it and return it safely to you when I am done,” she assured him, but his reply took her aback.

“It is yours,” Ian said with a finality that brooked no dissent.

Juliette chewed on her lower lip, pondering this man beside her. It was obvious the waters of his soul ran quite deep.

“Oh, Lady Juliette!” Mrs. Finchley spied them and wiggled her plump fingers invitingly. Juliette raised her lace-gloved hand in acknowledgement and Ian began to guide them slowly over to the older woman.

“When will I see you again?” she whispered from the corner of her mouth.

Ian inclined his head and lowered his voice as well. “Seeing as how I am a hostage of your house party, I would assume quite presently.”

Her fingers tightened on his surprisingly firm bicep in admonishment. “You know what I mean,” she hissed. They were nearing the rest of the party and the lifespan of their privacy was growing short. She felt more than heard the vibration of his low, abbreviated chuckle.

“You know where to find me. If you want to learn more Gaelic, that is.”

His words began to melt her joints all over again. He had offered her an open invitation.

If she dared.