Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

J ulian's resolve broke.

He had known this woman for the space of a day, but in that time, her beauty and vulnerability had shattered his defenses. Seeing her suddenly break before him was more than he could stand.

He responded with a gentleman's instinct and all thoughts of curses were gone. He crossed the space that separated them and enfolded her in his arms. The sensation that swept through him was as close as he supposed mortal man would ever come to sheer bliss. Her body was delicate and soft, making him aware of the strength of his hold on her and the power of his arms, held in check to protect her. Her face was pressed against his chest, seeking comfort and he could not help but give it. What comfort she could take from a strong, yet gentle, embrace, he would give with all his heart.

The scent of her filled his head. Her hair carried a subtle, floral aroma while there was a pleasant, fresh citrus fragrance from the rest of her. No hint of perfume, nothing that spoke of a woman seeking to enhance her beauty through clumsy, unnatural means. It was the scent of a woman and it made his head spin with delight.

Lowering his lips to that silky forest of burnished curls, he breathed in deeply. In return, she slipped her arms about his waist and hugged him tighter. Wetness seeped into his shirt from her tears and he stroked her hair soothingly. Words danced through his head but nothing fitted the moment.

Instinctively, he knew that this was not a moment for words. It was a moment for two people to seek comfort in their bodies, in closeness and intimacy.

For him, it was something he'd never had but had always craved.

For her? He had no reason to know it but instinct told him that closeness was something she also craved and also had denied herself.

Denied it until this moment when the weight became too much to bear. When the need became overwhelming and she sought comfort.

Emily lifted her tear-soaked face at that moment. He found himself looking into the depths of hazel eyes that might have belonged to a woodland sprite, a fairy of the deep forest, seductive and innocent in equal measures. Her lips were swollen and inviting. Never in his life had he wanted to kiss a woman more. The need for it ached within him, screaming to be satisfied.

"Can I be cursed twice?" Emily whispered, searching his face. "You claim I am condemned already. What more harm can be done?"

Julian's descent toward her was a tantalizingly slow torment, his lips hovering just a whisper away. Her eyes filled his consciousness, excluding all else. There were only those wide, twin pools of verdant hazel and the sensation of touch.

Her body pressed flush against his, the soft curves of her breasts melding into the hard lines of his chest. Her arms wrapped around him and her fingers dug into his back. Julian's hands fell to her fragile, shapely hips. His body responded to the moment, growing hard and insistent. He lowered his head further, feeling her warm breath against his lips.

They touched.

Their lips brushed together for one tantalizing moment.

Then apart.

Shaking her head, Emily lifted herself onto her tiptoes and pressed her lips firmly against Julian's. Reason fled. The world receded to a distant point of light, the farthest star in the cosmos. There was only the tower top and her.

The kiss waxed and waned as they pressed together and pulled apart. She was soft and wet, her mouth warm and the skin of her face icy cold from the wind atop the tower. It made the warmth of her lips and tongue even more delicious.

Even more erotic.

The kiss deepened, and Julian did not know if it was himself or her who initiated that. Only that her fingers were suddenly raking through his hair while his arms crushed her body against his.

She gasped and whispered his name in a way that threatened to drive him to the very peak of ecstasy. His lips trailed down to her throat, exposed by the servant's dress that she wore in a way that a ladies' dress never would. She moaned as his mouth closed on her there. The skin of her neck was so soft, it sent pangs of pleasure racing through him at the touch. He kissed gently, then bit firmly, feeling her body respond by pressing herself against him.

They turned on the narrow walkway, high above the castle and the forest. First, she moved, pressing him back until his back hit the tower wall. He tripped and lost his footing, sliding down the wall until he sat on the walkway, feet braced against the parapet.

Emily had sunk down with him and now straddled his lap, smiling even as she was kissing him. Julian traced grasping fingers gently down the sides of her face to her neck. Then to the soft swell of her breasts. He was breathless as he cupped one of her breasts, feeling the shape and squeezing. Through the material of the dress, her nipple stood out, a proud point pushing between his fingers.

It was then that he felt Emily's body stiffen. Immediately, her hands fell to her side and she jerked back.

"I'm sorry, did I…?" Julian breathed heavily.

Emily's hand rested atop his, upon her breast. She was frowning and her eyes were distant. Then she was climbing to her feet.

"No—no, I am sorry. But I cannot. I—I have gone too far. This should not have happened. I'm sorry!" she blurted.

She took a handful of hasty steps backward and her heel caught on an uneven stone. Losing her balance, she reached out for the parapet, but the stone she touched crumbled away. Under her hand, it tilted outward and then fell back.

Her balance gone, Emily's upper body tilted towards the gap that now existed in the parapet. She screamed as she found herself looking directly down to the woodland floor. The curse! Julian scrambled to his feet and ran to her, seizing her about the waist and swinging her towards the safety of the tower. He fell as he did, ending up on his back with Emily atop him.

"Get off me!" she shrieked, kicking, and lashing out with her fists. With shock, Julian released his hold. Emily was hysterical now, she crawled away from him, finding the tower door by her left hand and clawing it open.

Getting her feet under her clumsily, she lurched into the stairwell and disappeared from view. Julian staggered to his feet a moment later and pursued her. In the narrow confines of the tower's spiral stair, he could hear her weeping, punctuated by her fleeing footsteps.

"Emily?" he cried after her, taking the stairs two or three at a time.

When he reached the bottom though, she was nowhere to be seen. Even her crying had faded from his hearing.

"Emily! Where are you? I am sorry!" he cried out, starting along a hallway, opening doors, and peering into the dark rooms beyond.

Ester crouched behind a chaise longue with a white dust sheet cast over it. She had lifted the back of the sheet and let it fall over her, hidden by the chaise and the sheet both. She had one hand clamped over her mouth and was breathing like a bellows through her tight fingers. Tears streamed and she felt her heart hammering in her chest.

At this moment, she would have welcomed the curse. Perhaps it was the curse that had almost tossed her from the tower top.

The urge to cough came over her again, threatening to give her away as she heard the door of the room creak open. She had thought that Julian had moved away from this room, had heard his heavy footsteps going in the opposite direction. Perhaps he had sneaked back.

"Miss Granger?" Molly's voice whispered.

A sob of relief escaped her, followed by a wracking cough. Ester tore away the dust sheet and collapsed against the back of the chaise, wheezing and sobbing. The maid appeared seconds later, crouching beside her and taking her hands.

"What happened?" she asked, "was it His Grace?"

Ester nodded, unable to speak. Then she shook her head.

"Oh, Molly, what am I to do?" she cried, "Is—is he here?"

"No, I saw him going off towards the north wing calling your name. He didn't see me," Molly assured her.

Ester breathed a sigh of relief. "He… he did nothing to me," she finally began. "…Nothing that I did not want anyway. But it triggered a memory. A very bad memory, and suddenly, I—I felt so trapped. Like I was caught in a vice and it was closing on me, crushing me. I couldn't breathe. I had to get away. Oh, lord, but he is going to put this down to the curse, isn't he?"

Molly nodded somberly and Ester laughed bitterly in return.

"I might even start believing in it if I'm not careful."

Another bout of coughing wracked her. Her chest felt as though it had been through a grater.

"I think being up on top of that tower was a silly thing to do in your condition. That cold air don't do no one no good, if you ask me. Let me get you into a nice warm room with a fire and hot posset to ease your chest," Molly said, kindly.

Ester nodded, accepting Molly's help to get to her feet. Looking her up and down, Molly suddenly chuckled.

"Begging your pardon, Miss, but you don't half look silly in that dress. Not really your size, is it?"

The skirt came to an end two inches short of Ester's feet and the bust was too large. Ester found herself laughing along with the maid, despite the tears fresh on her cheeks.

"I hope my own clothes are suitable soon. There should be no danger in Julian seeking more kisses when I no longer look like this…"

Ester clamped a hand across her mouth, eyes going wide. Molly did the same, and after a moment of staring at each other in shock, they both burst into laughter.

"Oh my, oh my. You don't half say some things, Miss. I do declare," Molly exclaimed. "Begging your pardon, but what was it that made you… you know, run away from him? He's a well-set-up fellow, handsome and tall. I don't think I would say no. Look at that, you've got me at it now as well!"

Ester shook her head. "Something that happened to me once. A man calling himself a gentleman who…"

Molly held up a hand. "Say no more, Miss. I understand. Men can be like that. For what it's worth, His Grace is a proper gentleman. Rough around the edges, if you ask me, with a sharp tongue at times. But a true gentleman. He will feel really guilty for his part in your distress."

Ester impulsively hugged the maid, bursting into tears once more.

"Now then, Miss! You'll have me going in a minute," Molly protested.

She led Ester back to the guest room and busied herself building a fire while Ester sat awkwardly on the bed. She thought about the moment that Julian's passion had built to such a degree that he had touched her breasts. It had brought a wave of pleasure that had been almost unbearable.

But at that moment, a face had swam up in her memory. The mocking, leering smile of the Viscount Kingsley. Her body had become as cold as ice and her sensations numbed.

Now she felt dizzy.

The cough was coming more frequently and harder each time, it seemed. As promised, Molly soon left the room to fetch a hot posset and a pot of chamomile tea to relax her, and honey to soothe her throat. Ester sat still as a mouse as the room slowly warmed. But she did not feel it. Her body remained icy and numb.

Was this her own curse? That in the arms of a dashing, handsome man, she was cursed to become a frigid, terrified wreck, unable to escape the memory of what had happened to her once?