Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
" I never thought I would live to enjoy these woods," Ester murmured soberly.
The pair had left the gardens behind and were treading along a path of bare earth that winded its way among oak, birch, and willow. The air was warm beneath the overarching branches. Birdsong provided a constant background melody over the hushed roar of the branches stirring in the breeze.
"How so?" Julian asked curiously.
"Because of how we came to be here. To escape from scandal. Every morning, I expected to wake up to learn my… past had caught up with my family. As though it were some kind of mythical creature trailing my scent. Slow, but inexorable. Then, when I began receiving Kingsley's demands..."
As they walked, her words faltered, trailing into silence. Her gaze became distant, her expression solemn, lost in thought. Julian slipped his arm about her waist, drawing her gently to his side. His fingertips drifted to the small of her back, a soothing caress, an intimate gesture of comfort and love. She leaned her head against his shoulder with a sigh, reaching behind as she did, and entwining her fingers with his. Julian briefly closed his eyes, feeling the delicate press of her hand, and the faint, intoxicating scent of her hair. Simple pleasures, yet potent as the day they first met.
"We will not talk of him again. He is in the past, and the past cannot hurt you," Julian's voice came lowly.
"And you don't believe he will return?" Ester's brows furrowed as she glanced up at him. "With more demands?"
"No," Julian stated, with the finality of a door slamming shut. "And should he dare, I will destroy him." A flash of cold steel glinted in his eyes. "A couple of weeks ago, Harper furnished me with a list of Kingsley's creditors. With that, I can have him thrown into debtors prison. If I shouldn't like to see him hang first. And he knows I will not hesitate."
A shiver ran through Ester then, though it was not from fear, but rather from the dawning realization of the lengths Julian would go to protect her. His quiet resolve, the implacable edge in his voice, left no room for doubt. Yet beneath it all was a fierce love, one that made her feel, for the first time in a very long time, safe and protected.
"And you trust Mr. Harper?" she asked.
Julian contemplated the question. "At arm's length for the moment," he finally admitted, "and based on your instincts. Thus far, he has not given me any room for doubt. Gone above and beyond when asked. I think he is striving to redeem himself. Crammond has been keeping a vigilant eye on him, and he shall be watched closely during our stay at Loughton. But I suspect he was simply in thrall to a villain, not one himself."
Ester nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his words and matching them to her own instincts. She prayed their trust was not misplaced.
In a bid to lift the mood, she turned the conversation, her voice brightening. "There is the loveliest little stream not far from here," she chimed, "it has lots of shingly little beaches where it bends and the water is as clear as crystal. Ideal for paddling."
"Paddling?" Julian frowned.
Ester looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "You have never paddled?" she asked with amusement.
"Not that I know of. Perhaps you could instruct me in the… art ?"
Ester giggled. "There is nothing to it. Simply remove your shoes and stockings and then dangle your feet in the cool water. Perfect on a warm spring day."
"Then let us paddle," Julian replied with a grin.
Ester led the way, off the path and in amongst the trees. They picked their way around the white boles of silver birch and the gnarled and fissured trunks of oaks. Roots made steps to climb and squirrels rustled the branches above their heads or dashed across their path with a flash of red fur and white-tipped tails. Beneath the trees, the sun's warmth seemed to be magnified. Julian found himself sweating and even Ester's auburn hair seemed darker around her temples.
Julian realized that this was an intensely erotic sight to him, with its suggestion of physical exertion. In turn, the idea of Ester in physical exertion led Julian's mind to images of her. Her body naked, writhing atop him, or beneath him. Her face flushed while sweat glistened between her breasts.
Presently, they reached a grassy bank that overhung a busy stream. A sandy beach had formed where the stream turned, becoming shingle where it met the clear water. Trees enclosed the stream entirely, forming a green tunnel through which it flowed. A kingfisher sprung over the water and Julian could see the darting silver shapes of fish in the center of the current.
"This is paradise," Julian breathed.
"And miles from anywhere. Almost as though it was my private garden," Ester replied. "Helen does not care for woods and neither does mother. They would prefer croquet or boules on the lawn and piano forte in the drawing room. I think my father would have explored with me but his health no longer allows it. Not especially after I…"
She sounded and appeared distraught at that. Julian put his arms around her and pulled her close again, kissing her.
"That is not your fault," he told her, knowing her well enough to know that she would be blaming herself.
"Is it not? I could have remained with Mama and Papa or continued dancing, and Kingsley would never have been in a position to..."
"That was his choice and his blame. A woman should be free to walk alone without fear of being accosted. You should not live your life in fear."
Ester looked up at him, putting her arms about his waist. His body was a solid, reassuring presence against her own. She reached up to run her fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, remembering again his face, flushed with the exertion of lovemaking, taking pleasure from her body as well as receiving it.
"How can sweat be so thrilling," she asked, playfully.
"Perhaps because we are nobility and there are very few things we do that cause us to break sweat. One of those at least is..."
"Intensely pleasurable and satisfying," Ester almost purred the words.
She felt Julian stirring against her and wondered if it was the words or the tone that he found exciting. He kissed her and she became lost in that kiss, drowning in the feel of his lips upon hers. He was demanding, insistent, but she no longer found herself rendered frigid by memories of Kingsley. Julian had stormed that particular barricade and torn it down. And it was Julian who pulled away, a grimace on his face.
"We cannot. Not until we are married," he murmured.
"But we already have," she pouted.
"That was when I believed in the curse. When I thought that my touch had sentenced you to death."
"So you would turn back the hands of time and pretend that I am untouched once again?" Ester's voice trembled with both challenge and desire.
Julian's eyes darkened, his voice a low, intimate murmur. " Pretend ? No. I could never pretend that. I can see the carnal knowledge in your eyes. No woman with such lust on her face, so burning, so heavy with want—could ever be mistaken for virginal innocence."
A wicked thrill surged through Ester as she felt how their conversation was arousing him. With deliberate boldness, she pressed her soft hips against his thigh. It brought an exquisite rush of pleasure to her that momentarily robbed her of words. Julian groaned, the sound deep and ragged, before he buried his face in the curve of her neck, his lips and breath setting her skin aflame.
Ester's fingers tangled possessively in his hair, her eyes fluttering closed as she gave herself over to the pleasure that coursed through her—starting where his lips met her skin, then flowing down her body in a dizzying current of sensation, pooling between her breasts and lower still, to her navel and to her womanhood. She gasped, unable to control her sharp inhales.
"So, you think me a wanton woman?" she moaned breathily.
"The most wanton temptress," Julian rasped, voice husky, "And you have bewitched me."
"I… I must confess, I no longer possess the strength to resist you. Not after having to agonizingly wait four entire weeks to see you again," Ester murmured sultrily. "Do you?"
Julian did not answer with words, but she felt him shake his head. His hand moved, rough and possessive, until his fingers tangled in her hair, pulling just enough to make her gasp. Without warning, he craned back her head, and his mouth claimed hers with a fierce, unrestrained hunger. Consciousness exploded. Behind closed eyes, Ester saw only starbursts of white that pulsed in rhythm with her pounding heartbeat.
His hands moved with purpose, sliding down to her hips and derrière before gripping her there firmly. His fingertips dug into her flesh, pulling her sharply against him with a force that made her gasp against his mouth. She felt the pressure of his lust pressing against her until she felt sure that the fabric of her clothes would not be capable of resisting his ardor.
She cried out aloud as she clung to his steely body. Her fingers grew desperate and they tore at his shirt, unbuttoning the fabric until it unraveled to reveal a glimpse of his tight chest. She scratched at his biceps, his shoulders, his bulging pectoral muscles there. She was greedy for the feel of him, wanted to rip away everything he wore. To taste his naked skin, to bite, lick and suck. To bring her name to his lips in desperate need.
Again, Julian drew back, breathing ragged. But this time with a wicked smile. " No . I am a gentleman, and you, my dear," he traced a finger down her flushed cheek, his touch maddeningly light, "…are a lady. We must behave thusly."
Ester's lips parted in disbelief. "Whatever gave you the illusion I was a lady?" she purred, tongue dripping with honeyed defiance. "For you make me feel anything but ladylike." Her lips barely grazed his neck as she whispered, "Would you not prefer I play your courtesan instead?"
Before he could respond, she spun away, her skirts swirling provocatively around her legs. She skipped down the narrow, twisting path toward the sandy beach, hips swaying with every exaggerated step. She could feel his gaze burning into her, the weight of it heavy, possessive, as though it physically commanded her to stop. But she didn't.
When she reached the fringes of the stream, she paused, casting a coy glance over her shoulder, daring him to follow. The light of the setting sun painted her skin in hues of gold, and she took a seat on a weathered log, slipping off her shoes.
"Tell me, Julian," she called out sultrily to him, "do gentlemen always stare so intently while they pretend to uphold their honor?"
As Julian watched from atop the bank, she lifted her skirts higher, revealing the smooth curve of her legs, inch by inch. The cool breeze caressed her skin, but she didn't waver. Slowly, she peeled away one stocking, letting it slip from her leg and fall to the ground with a sensual grace that sent her pulse racing.
"Is this proper enough for you, Your Grace ?" she asked brazenly.
Julian finally stepped forward. He did not seek out the path that she had. Nor did he attempt to climb down the sandy face of the bank. Instead, like some demi-god who defied the laws of nature, he simply stepped off the edge. He slid down the sheer face in a cascade of sand, landed on his feet, and stepped away without a hint of imbalance. His eyes never left hers, dark and smoldering, as he advanced like a predator closing in on his prey, shedding his coat as he went.
Ester's breath quickened as she rolled down her second stocking. She stood, stepping into the cold water, feeling the shock of it against her skin. Julian waded in after her, boots and breeches soaked, his eyes locked on hers with a hunger that made her blood sing. When he reached her, his hands were on her hips before she could draw another breath. His arms wrapped about her waist and he lifted her effortlessly.
For a moment, she was held above him, suspended, looking down on a face tight with barely contained desire. Above eyes that were alight with love for her. She traced her fingertips down his harsh, angular face, feeling the rigid planes of his cheeks and the set fullness of his lips. This was, to her, the face of god. The blasphemy of that thought shocked her but she could think of no other way to explain the sensation she felt. Had they been living in the antiquity of classical Greece, she could easily have believed him to be Zeus or Apollo.
"You are making it damn hard to stay a gentleman," he growled. His eyes blazed with something fierce, something that told her he was done pretending.
"Then don't," she whispered, her voice trembling from the chill of the water. "I never wanted you to."
A low, dangerous chuckle rumbled from his chest. His grip on her waist tightened as he lowered her toward the cool waters of the stream, the fabric of her gown floating lightly around her hips as it soaked. "You don't know what you're asking for," he rasped, his lips brushing her ear.
"Don't I?" She slipped her hands into his thick hair, drawing him closer. "I want all of you, Julian. No more pretending ."
They kissed, the stream babbling away beneath and around them. It was long and slow, sensual and exploring. Ester felt as though she rested in the boughs of a mighty and unmovable oak. That she could rest there, like a woodland nymph, for hours. She wanted to sink into the water with him, to let the cool stream drench them. Wanted to feel his skin through his wet shirt.
When Julian pulled back, it wasn't far. His hands slid under her, lifting her effortlessly as he laid her fully back into the stream. Her body floated on the chilly, gentle current. The sensation of the water cradling her was foreign, but Julian's steady grip anchored her, his presence grounding her even as the stream's flow rolled softly beneath.
She watched, breathless, as his mouth traveled lower, his kisses slow, deliberate. There was a darkness in his eyes, a hunger that sent a thrill through her, but something was different—his lips kept drifting lower.
Her breath caught in her throat when his mouth reached the curve of her waist, his fingers spreading her legs ever so slightly. Her body arched as his lips descended, pressing into her abdomen, down the curve of her hips, over her thin, translucent gown. The cold water lapped at her skin, and she felt exposed in a way she had never before. Confusion rippled through her as his mouth continued its descent, kissing the soft, bare skin of her inner thighs. She gasped, her fingers tensing in his hair, unsure of what he was doing.
"Julian?" Her voice came out as a breathless whisper. "What are you—?"
When Julian's lips hovered between her thighs, she gasped, her mind suddenly spinning. She had never felt anything like this, never imagined the kind of pleasure his mouth promised. Confusion flickered for only a moment, replaced almost instantly by the rush of desire that coursed through her as his lips pressed a kiss there—intimate, tender, yet filled with a raw intensity that made her whole body tremble.
"Julian," she whispered, her voice trembling as she gripped the edges of the riverbank, her fingers digging into the earth. "I... I don't…"
His tongue traced a slow, deliberate path over her most sensitive flesh, and any words she had fell away. Her body jolted with the sudden flood of pleasure, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. The sensation was so raw, so overwhelming, that her mind could hardly comprehend it, but her body responded instinctively, arching into him, her hips tilting toward his mouth as if she couldn't get close enough.
"You taste like heaven. Let me take care of you," he murmured in a low growl and it vibrated through her core.
And then he began again, his mouth working over her in slow, measured strokes, each flick of his tongue sending a wave of pleasure pulsing through her veins. Ester's head fell back to face the heavens, her eyes fluttering shut as she gave herself over to the sensation, her body floating weightless in the stream as Julian held her steady. Every nerve in her body was alive, every touch of his tongue pushing her higher, closer to the edge of something she had never experienced before.
The pleasure built steadily, an unbearable heat spreading through her core, tightening in her belly with every stroke of his tongue. She moaned, her hips buckling against him as she chased that feeling, that sweet, excruciating pressure that mounted higher and higher inside her.
"Julian," she gasped, her fingers clutching desperately at his hair. The sound of the stream and the world around them faded as all she could feel was him, all she could want was more of this. "What are you doing to—"
And then, in one perfect, devastating moment, he pushed her over the edge. His mouth pressed harder, his tongue moving just right, and she shattered. The pleasure ripped through her in an explosion of heat and light, her body trembling uncontrollably as her release washed over her, fierce and consuming. Ester cried out, her back arching, her legs floating freely as wave after wave of sensation tore through her, leaving her trembling, breathless.
Julian stayed with her through it, his hands steady on her hips as his mouth guided her through the final tremors of release. When the last shudder ran through her body, he slowly pulled back, pressing one last, lingering kiss to her thigh before rising like a god from the water.
Ester lay there, her body spent and trembling, the cool stream still flowing around her as her breath came in soft, uneven gasps. The pleasure had left her dazed, floating on a cloud of bliss she hadn't known was possible. Her eyelids fluttered open, meeting Julian's dark gaze as he hovered over her, his chest rising and falling heavily, his shirt clinging to him, soaked from the water.
Without a word, he leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that was slow and full of longing, tasting of the river and the passion that still lingered between them. His hands cupped her face, gentle now.
The kiss deepened, his tongue teasing hers, drawing her into him again. Her fingers traced the lines of his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his wet shirt, her body still thrumming with the remnants of her release.
But then, he tore away from the kiss. Disappointedly, Ester looked into Julian's eyes and saw the same answer there.
To go any further, would be a further insult to the forbearance of her mother, who had allowed them to walk together, alone. It would be a betrayal of trust. Though she did not see it as scandalous, merely an expression of love, she knew how her mother and father would see it. Hadn't they just escaped the clutches of a scandal? She would not risk another.
"We cannot," he breathed heavily, "no further."
Ester nodded, resting her head on his chest. There was a yearning within her that was almost a physical pain. She gritted her teeth against it, denying her body the release it demanded. They would need to wait. She could no longer hide behind the fallacy of the curse. There was no such thing and she was not doomed to die. Their actions had consequences.
Julian carried her back to the sandy beach and sat down, placing her across his lap.
"This is hardly better. Should the local vicar happen across us, we would still be receiving prayers for our souls," Ester giggled.
Julian's embrace tightened. She rested her cheek on the top of his head, stroking his hair. She closed her eyes as he nuzzled against her breasts. She wanted to feel his lips on her bare breasts more than she wanted the next breath of air into her lungs. The temptation to reach back and unbutton her dress, pulling it down from her shoulders and then tearing open her undergarments was almost overwhelming. Her breathing deepened and quickened, she hung on the verge of abandonment, casting aside reason and the morality of society. Becoming a wild creature, celebrating her body and Julian's.
Then she thought of her family, of the brink to which they had been brought by scandal. She sighed.
Hours passed by in a blur as they stayed there. In the silent but comforting presence of one another. Their clothes were damp, but dry now. If they remained any longer, her father might send a search party out after them.
Recognizing this, she murmured, "Time to return to reality, I fear."
Julian grunted but released her. Making for his coat, he draped it over Ester's smaller frame. She rose, brushing her skirts down from the remnants of grass and dry dirt. As she looked up, she saw a man arrive atop the bank, watching them.