Chapter 12

"I don"t conquer, I submit."

Giacomo Casanova

After enjoying a hearty breakfast in the kitchen, freshly baked bread and eggs, they went to the library. Patrick had removed the dust sheets from a couple rooms at Julius's request so that they might make use of them, and Audrey had mentioned she had explored little of the stacks on earlier visits, unable to decipher how it was organized. Julius was excited to show her Lord Hays's fine selection.

Leading her through the stacks, he showed her novels and poetry, pulling out a copy of Lord Byron's poems.

"I noticed Casanova's memoirs in your chamber. Does it belong to your uncle's library?"

Julius grinned, shaking his head. "I own multiple copies. Anywhere I lay my head, you will find his memoirs. When I have trouble sleeping, I read about Giacomo's brazen antics."

Audrey smiled up at him, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Do they serve as inspiration?"

"Indubitably, I like to be unpredictable." He laughed.

Audrey gave a little snort. Her eyes fell to his lips before skittering away. "More like incorrigible."

He smiled in response before changing the subject. "Have you seen the portrait gallery?"

Audrey shook her head. "I mostly spent time in the drawing rooms and library on my previous stays, although I have wandered the halls."

Julius offered an arm. "Shall we?"

He led her to the gallery where Audrey exclaimed with delight over the portrait of his aunt displayed directly by the entry.

"She is so young!"

Indeed, Aunt Gertrude was dressed in the fashion of forty or fifty years earlier, her hair powdered and lifted with whatever odd contraptions they had used in the last century. Her moss-green eyes stared down, her face perfectly austere as was characteristic of aristocratic portraiture.

Julius preferred the real-life version, being rather fond of his maternal great-aunt. Countless times as a youth, he had escaped Lord Snarling's grim lectures by sneaking into her home. Rose, who helped in the kitchens when the family was in residence, made the best biscuits, warm from the oven, and, despite being a traditional lady of the ton, Aunty Gertrude had always been kind to her unhappy nephew.

They walked together down the length of the gallery, stopping to view each of the family portraits that recorded the history of the Hays family until they reached the far end.

"What is this?" asked Audrey, pausing at the end of the gallery. Julius sauntered after her, finding she was staring up at a recent portrait of Lord Hays mounted above a display case covered with a dust sheet. His great-uncle was attired in the style that had been adopted in London of late, that of a Highland lord with a box-pleated kilt of red, green, and yellow. The artist had been generous, filling out Lord Hays's aged figure to make him appear far more robust than he was at the time of sitting for the painting.

"Lord Hays holds a minor title in Scotland that he inherited through his mother, which is why he belongs to the Highland Society of London. They took it into their heads to collect the patterns of tartans. Something about preserving the clan histories. I think they might be deluded about the whole thing, but it has become quite fashionable amongst those who hold Scottish titles to claim these … vanity tartans, if you will."

Audrey pointed up at the kilt. "So this is meant to be the tartan of the clan that he is from?"

"That is the theory. My valet has family from Scotland, and he tells me it is all a bit of fanciful propaganda, and that there were no official clan tartans until this recent obsession took hold." Julius leaned down to grab the edge of the sheet, yanking it back to reveal the ornate enamel and glass display case beneath.

Julius tapped a fingernail on the glass, his hands still bare from eating. Below the glass was a catalogue. "See, there is Bannockburn's key pattern book, published a few years ago, which is a collection of tartans that the lairds have submitted as belonging to their clans."

Audrey peered down, tilting her head and pursing her lips in thought. "May I look at the pattern book?"

Julius raised a brow in surprise, but acquiesced, feeling about for the latch to the case and swinging the lid up. He reached in and pulled it out, then closed the lid to place the book atop it.

Audrey leafed through, nibbling on her lip, which was a sure sign that she was worried about something. She stopped on a page featuring a green and blue tartan pattern. Audrey leaned forward, then back, viewing it from different angles while Julius waited for her to reveal her interest in the book.

"I have seen this worn by a Scottish regiment," he finally proffered, hoping to prompt her into conversing.

Her eyes found his, clouded with some emotion he could not quite place. "The blackguard who attacked you in the street … I glimpsed this pattern. What does that mean? That he is part of a regiment?"

Julius frowned, shifting his gaze to the illustration and to read the words beside it. "Perhaps. Or he might be connected to Clan Campbell."

"Does that mean something?"

Julius's forefinger and thumb found their way to his signet ring, which he twisted. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, a memory had been tickled, but he could not quite grasp onto it. "I do not know."

"Is it a clue?"

He closed the book, replacing it under the glass lid. "It might be. If Campbells are connected to one of the suspects. Or it could be nothing, merely that the attacker himself has Campbell blood. Or simply liked the pattern and purchased it. Do you know what it was you saw?"

Audrey shook her head. "It could have been a scarf, or lining, even a coat. I just saw a great overcoat and a hat, but when he moved, I caught sight of this somewhere in the vicinity of his collar."

Julius pulled the sheet back into place. "I will inform the others when they return. For now, I cannot say what it means, but it is more than we knew until now. It is shameful that I missed it."

She laughed, her blonde eyelashes fanning down to the curve of her cheek. "That may have had something to do with fighting off a knife attack with only a walking stick to protect you."

Julius did not hear what she said, for he was caught, a wave of lust surging through his veins while his fingers itched to reach up and remove the pins from her flaxen hair. It was coming loose, as it often did, and the urge to complete the task, to see the locks flowing down her back, made him salivate with desire. Audrey looked up, alerted by his silence that something was amiss. Her eyes locked with his, and time slowed down as he considered the morals of peeling the mourning gown from her curved body. The one which did not require stays, he recollected. She had been drenched in the rain, revealing the outline of her nipples through the wet fabric.

I have to wed the girl. Can I not …

He licked his lips, Audrey's gaze dropping to trace the motion, which was when he noticed that her breathing was frayed, ragged, as was his.

Do not get attached! A proper marriage will destroy the friendship we have formed.

His thoughts were scrambled and all he could think of was how he wanted to drag her to the floor and?—

Out in the hall, the sounds of footsteps interrupted the moment, and they both blinked as if waking from a dream.

She swallowed hard before speaking. "Patrick, I think."

"Aye." Julius rubbed his neck, relieved that in this one instance he had not savaged her like a beast. Audrey had a terrible effect on his self-control, but the knowledge that the servant was nearby was sufficient deterrent to quell the ravening beast within.

Later that evening,Audrey was once again seated by Julius's bed. She tucked the end of the fresh bandage, her eyes on the hard angles and curving muscles of his chest. Sensation tingling low in her loins as her pale hand reached out to hover over him.

She dared not look up to see what Julius was doing. Abruptly, she made her decision, and lowered her fingertips to trail them down his chest. He felt at once hard, as she scraped over the curling chest hair, and soft.

Julius hissed, and her gaze flew up to meet his. His lids were heavy, and she was gratified to find languid heat reflected in his eyes. "Are you seducing me, Audrey Gideon?" His voice was rough, as if he struggled to focus.

Audrey hesitated, then nodded. All afternoon she had been thinking of their imminent parting, about the unknown future awaiting her, and she had discovered something about herself. Licking her lips, she replied, "I find that … I think I will regret … if I do not …"

Flames flared in the depths of his green-brown irises when he reached up to grasp her by the wrist. Gently, he brought her hand up to his mouth to kiss the vulnerable spot on her inner wrist. Audrey was riveted, gasping when she felt the flicker of his tongue where his lips were pressed.

They stared at each other, scarcely moving—scarcely breathing.

Julius's lids came down, concealing his molten eyes. "This time, we are alone in my room. I have resisted the temptation thus far, but—Audrey, I do not have the strength to stop if we begin. You must walk away now. Until we … Until we have an understanding."

She did not know what that meant, but she knew she had considered her options and she refused a lifetime of regret that she had never lain with the man … the man she …

The man I love!

Audrey blinked at the revelation, somehow surprised at her dismay. It was not so astonishing. Julius Trafford was a handsome and unique gentleman. Surely dozens of women over the years had fallen for the intriguing glib charm, but it was his loyalty and his acceptance of her which had drawn her in as a moth to the flame.

His light grip, and the warmth of his breath teasing over her wrist like a lover's caress, made her ever more certain that she wanted to divest herself of clothing, to feel his naked body pressed against her. Just the once. Just so she could know his touch. This might be their last night together—the last time they were alone. The coming days were going to be hard for her. She would be found guilty of doing … this … even if she had not.

Nervous, she placed the forbidden envelope on his abdomen. "I … brought prevention. It is a condom."

His eyes flew open, and he emitted a despairing groan. "I know what an English frock coat is. And you should not have—" Julius's gaze shifted to her leather valise on the dressing table. "Your magic bag?"

Audrey nodded, biting her lip and wondering if she had made a mistake, but, if she had, it did not prevent the desire to lean down and lick the flat disc of his nipple to taste if it was salty. She stared at the tawny skin, sorely tempted. "Papa kept a supply in case someone needed them."

"Are you … sure?"

She tugged her hand loose, lowering it to rest on his chest and marveling at the heat emanating against her palm. With far more confidence than she possessed, she ran it down, over the bandage, to pause over his midriff where the sheath rested and feel the ripple of his muscles as he tensed.

Julius shook his head, his hand coming over hers to hold it in place. "My father always said one should honor the requests of a lady."

With that, he put the French letter aside. Sitting up, he swung his legs over the side of the bed to rise. Still holding her hand, he pulled her to her feet and lowered his mouth to hers. Their lips were hungry when they met, fusing together as if they were one. His arms came up to lash her to his half-naked body, and he coaxed her lips to part. Her head was pushed back, but his fingers threaded through her hair to provide support. He tasted of honey and tea, with a hint of spice, the satin warmth of his tongue exploring her mouth causing her crave him with feverish need.

Audrey squeezed her thighs together to relieve the agitated pulsating between her legs, enjoying the crush of her breasts against his bare pectorals. She squirmed, moaning in ecstasy, when his free hand reached down to cup her buttock and press her to his pelvis where she could feel the rigid evidence of his desire against her belly. She brought her own hands up to marvel at the hard muscle and youthful strength of his broad shoulders, kneading his warm skin with curious fingers as their kiss deepened.

She growled—growled!—in protest when his lips left hers, but then gasped at the swirling headiness of feeling his mouth trail across her jaw to find her earlobe and suckle it with a light nip of teeth.

Audrey bucked in astonishment, thrilling excitement cascading through her veins to pool and quiver between her thighs. There was a muffled laugh from Julius as his hands bracketed her hips, tugging her gown up to hitch her up against his hips, her skirts bunching around her thighs.

Understanding his intent, she brought her knees up to brace against him, a weightless feather in his powerful embrace. Sensation pooled at the apex of her core as his erection pressed against her most intimate of areas and she undulated against him to relieve the accumulating pleasure discomfort, discovering that his heated length ratcheted it ever higher.

The tantalizing scrape of his stubble against the tender skin of her neck thrilled her to new heights of pulsing desire, as he plumped her breast through the cotton of her gown and shift beneath. Her nipples puckered to painful points as instinct drove her to grind her pelvis against his loins, to chase some sort of release to the exquisite agony gathering between her legs.

Julius growled in the back of his throat, striding forward to pin her up against the wall. Her head fell back, and she keened when her pelvis pushed ever harder against his. Grabbing her hand from his shoulder, he raised it above her head, threading his fingers through hers while his mouth found hers in a hungry, drugging kiss. Lips, tongue, and teeth clashed as they sought a mutual fusion of bodies, her thoughts swirling with him. His scent, his taste, the feel of his hard body against hers, the contact of his rough palm against hers.

Audrey moaned in distress when Julius yanked his head back, panting as his blazing gaze seared a path into her heart. "We must slow down, Audrey. You are too inexperienced for where we are heading."

She could barely hear him over the rushing, pounding blood in her ears, overcome by a riot of new feelings in places she had never paid mind to. He waited for her to comprehend his words until she swallowed and blinked in acknowledgment.

Julius turned back toward the bed, Audrey clinging to him like creeping ivy while his lips nuzzled against the sensitive skin at the base of her throat. His deft fingers worked the fabric-covered buttons of her bodice. Soon, its tight embrace sagged while he turned to lower her onto the mattress. He tugged the gown down to her waist, and she obligingly raised her hips so he could yank it off.

Once he removed it, his sartorial nature got the better of him—he straightened the garment out and hung it over the back of the armchair next to the bed. Audrey grinned at his meticulous care. He returned to stand over her, his gaze caressing over her bosom with keen appreciation. Her breathing was labored with her frustrated passion, but she eyed him back, admiring his tall form and the ripple of muscle beneath his bronzed skin as she watched him watching her.

Julius rubbed his jaw. "I find I am not as disciplined in this as I might be. Having a maiden in my bed is something of a novel experience," he admitted in a hoarse voice, a flush rising up his neck and cheeks.

"I am not a maiden," she responded simply. "I am Audrey."

His face gradually split into a wide grin, his humor restored. "That you are."

With that, he leaned over her to work off the shift that was the last remaining item of clothing on her quivering, aroused figure.

He threw the shift aside with far less attention than he had given her gown, returning his gaze to the swell of her breasts before falling to the shadowed cleft between her legs. Audrey blushed, raising a hand to cover herself, but he leaned over to capture it against her thigh and continued to look, skimming gentle fingertips over the length of her stomach. Then even lower with ragged control, dipping a single finger to flicker along her crease. She tossed her head back, gasping at the searing escalation of pleasure.

Julius watchedin raptures as Audrey writhed at his touch. Just a week ago, he had provided instruction to his new chum, Abbott, on bedding a maiden. Turned out it was easy to dispense the advice when one had no stake in the game. To deflower a virgin, as Audrey had requested he do, was more daunting than he had thought.

But …

I am up for a challenge.

Audrey was a delight. Responsive. Untamed. He almost wished they could be a proper man and wife so he might school her in the art of love over the coming months, reveal new heights of thrilling enjoyment as he savored the task of indulging her in the numerous forms of bedding.

What a complicated situation they were heading into. He would wed her to protect her, but he had no intention of staying by her side, so what did that mean? Would she enjoy this and perhaps a wedding night, and then never be bedded again? That seemed a great pity and unfair somehow.

Julius shoved the thought aside. It was not his usual inclination to overthink things in the heat of passion. Right now, he had a beautiful woman displayed on the bed. Who desired him, and it was his duty to please her.

Tossing the rest of his considerations to the floor to fall beside her shift, Julius leaned a knee between Audrey's parted legs so he might take care of those unbound orbs, tipped with pink nipples that made his mouth water in anticipation. His palm came up to cup her full breast, plumping it up so he could run his tongue on the hardened tip. He groaned, her sweet, feminine fragrance overwhelming his senses more than any perfume could. She tasted of honey, and herbs, and fresh country air, and he wanted all of it.

Audrey bucked her hips in response. She bore little resemblance to a na?ve maiden. The problem was, she did share one important aspect with other maidens … her maidenhead.

Julius moved to the neglected bud, tipping the other creamy globe, chastising himself to be gentle. Each time they came into proximity, it was as if a siren's call had been sounded. Except it was not he who would be beaten on the rocks, but Audrey who would be hurt if he kept losing his head. He caressed the breast, brushing strokes against the sensitive side while he tried to think how to bring her to her peak without smothering her with his lust.

She moaned, pushing up against him to send a fresh wave of lust sparking into his groin. By Jupiter, he took pride in his finesse bedding a woman, but Audrey crept under his skin and fractured his self-control.

Rolling off Audrey, he pulled his body away to regain command over their coupling. His hand slid down, teasing her with a languid pace that made her hips rock in protest. Licking his lips, he continued his path to the silky curls that shielded her, teasing his fingertip fleetingly over her slick crease. Audrey cried out, and he repeated the vexatious stroke, willing his ardor into retreat when he dipped in to trace the honeyed petals of her sex.

Audrey gyrated up in pleading response, but Julius retreated then returned until, with torturous discipline, he nudged his fingertip into her tight, slick channel. He pulsed his finger in and out while his Audrey keened and wailed, biting down on her forearm to muffle the threatening scream. Julius fought his urge to possess her, push her down into the mattress with his weight and take his pleasure. Instead, with infinite patience he did not feel, he continued his teasing touch until he found her pleasure building. Rhythmically, he stroked her to her climax, nearly spending when she cried out, her intimate muscles spasming around his finger.

He rode out the waves of her pleasure with thin resolve until she relaxed from her arched position. Julius rose from the bed, struggling out of his buckskins in clumsy impatience. His cock was harder than it had ever been, the desire to possess the goddess in his sheets fueling his lust to hitherto unknown heights. Desperate to sink into her inviting heat, he fumbled around for the French letter she had brought to his bed. Barking in triumph, he sheathed his length in the animal gut before rolling back to settle between her legs.

Drawing a fortifying breath, he reached up to run a trembling finger over the curve of her cheek. Audrey slowly opened her eyes, the liquid silver causing his heart to hitch.

My God, she is beautiful.

The sight of Audrey flushed with her sated pleasures, the creamy curves cradling his hard body, her pink lips, and nipples tightened into sharp points. He could not recollect a moment when he was so enraptured. Mayhap because they were chums, perhaps because he admired the content of her soul, or mayhap it was her innocent curiosity. He shifted his hips in discomfort, the desire to thrust into her overwhelming as he fought for his control. She was tight and inexperienced, he berated to himself.

"It will hurt."

Audrey pulled a face as if to tell him he was daft, rolling her pelvis up to coax him into motion. Julius swallowed, lowering himself to the cradle of her hips. Guiding his length, he teased over the swollen folds, again and again, unhurried, until Audrey's eyes flickered shut and she began her arousing undulation. Soon he had her heated, panting for him, and he gradually nudged into her then retreated, building her pleasure anew now that she was more prepared to receive his invading thrust after her initial peak.

Her eyelids flew open, an expression of impatient outrage on her features, when she surprised him by bucking her hips into a high arch to sheath him to the hilt with a gasping sob.

Julius froze, surprised by her ferocious thrust and watching her with shock as he struggled to remain still in the warmth of her tight embrace. He took hold of her hip, delicately lowering them both to the mattress.

Julius waited, stunned by what she had done, anguished—terrified—that he had injured her when she remained silent and taut. Just as he considered saying something, Audrey relaxed around him. To his great relief, she gyrated her hips. Sweet relief flooded into his head and, needing no further invitation, he withdrew to plunge in. He tossed his head back, overcome by the sensation of her wrapped around him, startled by the depth of his pleasure.

Reaching down, he stroked his finger over the tender nub that wrought her climax, a rhythmic sweeping the way she liked until she was flushed and keening, her head arching back into the pillow. Thrusting into her, he enjoyed the waves of her pleasure building until she cried out and her pulsing response rushed over him, then his hips thrust forward in a final plunge as he spilled his seed within her throbbing channel.

Once he had caught his breath, Julius rolled off her and pulled her into his embrace to bury his face in the sweet, blonde hair that had come undone to lie in disarray over the pillows and sheets.