Chapter 17

Grimacing, Julius stepped into Whites on St. James', hating the very ambience he was surrounded by. He could not look at the scenery in the so-called ‘bastion of male camaraderie' the same way he had before he had gone to war. It was not as if he had prized profligate gambling and drinking to excess before he had gone to join Wellington's troupes anyhow.

Now, was a military man and saw everything from the lens of suspicion and war. Julius was acutely aware that he was wearing the costume of a nobleman like one did as masquerade. He had no penchant for the activities that made up a fashionable life.

As far as he was concerned, gambling and drinking to excess were a waste of time and money and doing social rounds just to make idle chitchat and gossip made his gut lurch in disgust.

"Duke Arlington," the barman bowed. "Honored to have to tonight. What would be your pleasure, Sir?"

"I'm here to find a man, Baron Islington?" Julius replied.

The barman gave a tight smile. "He is here, yet hut I must warn you, Sir, he only drinks and goes home. He speaks to no one."

"He will to me," Julius nodded, "Point me in his direction."

With a glass of brandy in hand, Julius crossed the room and in the back of the billiards room to find the man, seated at a window seat, gazing out the dark streets blow.

"Islington?" Julius asked. "I need to speak with you."

The baron barely gave him a look before he went back to his drink. Undeterred, he took the seat beside him and sat the cup down. "It's yours if you want it."

The baron's face didn't shift—he only reached for his drink. Breathing out, Julius realized this was going to be harder than he had expected. Revisiting his plan, Julius realized the death of Islington's younger twin brother had taken more out of him that Julius had expected.

"I knew Magnus," he said quietly. "He fought beside me for years until they moved him to a new regiment. He always spoke to me about his brother, the one he admired for all his life, the older brother that would fetch him out of treetops and empty wells.

"He told me how he joined the forces to prove you proud of him, to make sure that even if he did pass, he would go knowing he gave your family name a distinction it never had before," Julius said. "Oh, he mentioned you would lie to your father about eating the blueberry pie to make sure he did not get in trouble."

Reaching into his jacket, Julius pulled out a ring. "I never thought this would ever be this important. He'd left it in his bunk after moving out. I don't think he knew he had lost it because it was lodged in between the slats.

"I never got the chance to return it to him so I will give it back to you. I know it's not much—" he slid the ring over the worn wooden table. "—but it is something."

Islington's hand trembled as he sat the glass down and reached for the tarnished brass ring with an dark ‘I' made of black opal in the square head. He took the ring, and his face went tight.

"How—" the Baron's face was tight, and he swallowed. "—my brother's ring. You saved it."

"Unknowingly, yes," Julius replied. "But when the cannon killed him, I realized it could be something to you. They couldn't have saved his body to send him home, but part of him will be with you. I regret not returning it sooner."

"No," Islington swallowed. "But it's with me now. Thank you, Your Grace. I cannot— cannot ever repay you."

"You can," Julius said, "And I hope you do not take my returning the ring as me bribing you. It is a difficult time but I need to know, when they sent back his personal things, were they any records he kept for himself?

"I have tried to find one of the bookkeepers, William Nelson, but he has vanished, and I know your bother would take on the role of clerk from time to time. Were there any journals, ledgers, anything that was sent back for him?"

While staring at the ring, Islington nodded. "There were a few journals that came back with for him, but I have not had the heart to look into them. I can have them sent to you; it would like."

"I would appreciate that," Julius replied. "And I promised I will return them to you in pristine condition."

Turning the ring, the baron gave a soft laugh, "My brother did love berry pies."

Resting a hand on the Baron's shoulder, Julius squeeze tightly and then left the man to his thoughts. "He was a brave man."

With his business done and having no urge to stay and make social rounds with anyone, Julius headed into the chilly night and strode to his carriage instead of requesting it come to him.

"Home," he instructed the driver before hopping inside.

Instantly, his thoughts strayed to Louisa; how would he find her at home? Lately, their nightly shared suppers were their bonding time, how they were starting to fill in the gaps their hurried courtship had skipped over.

He now knew her favorite books, childhood pets—she had a cat while her sister had a raven— how well she played the pianoforte, and how she dreaded dancing the Scottish reels. He knew she had dry wit, preferred tragedies to comedies, which surprised him because he felt that she was a true romantic at heart.

Doubts twinged at his heart; would thing with Louisa work? Would she fully forgive him for abandoning her on what had to be the happiest day of her life. Another worry itched at his skin; would he find the records in time to show his innocence? And what about Rose, how would she go on with him gone?

"Is there a sword of Damocles swinging over my head," he pressed the hell of a hand into his throbbing temples. "It surely feels like it."

Will I lose one or both?

He felt like an acrobat, juggling three firebrands into the air while walking on the edge of a cliff; one misstep and the consequences would be irreparable.

Stepping into Lousia's drawing room, he found her at her writing desk, sorting letters and cards. Her hair was pinned up haphazardly, but he found it charming, and when neared, he examined the neat piles on the table.

"You've made the menu for this week, arranged for this week's cleaning, replenished the pantry, planned yours and Rose's trip around London, and—" he looked over another voucher. "—purchased new bed linen. You have been a busy bee."

"I must be," she shuffled another paper to the side, "A duchess is more than a figurehead, you know. There is something for you too, from Lord Holbrook, I believe."

He took the letter, unsealed it and quickly read it before dropping it into a tray and rolling his neck. "I will attend to that tomorrow. Its late, how about you stop what you're doing, and we have supper?"

"In a minute," she flickered a look up. "Why don't you have a warm bath and then join me?"

Considering it, Julius nodded. A warm bath would release the tension in his body. It would not ease his mind, but it was half the battle. Leaning in, he kissed her temple. "I will see you soon."

Lying in the large copper tub at the center of the room with the water almost on the verge of too hot, a fire crackled in the hearth behind him. Resting his head on the rolled towel behind him, he pushed the wet hair from his closed eyes.

Attack this like you would do on the battlefield; what is the most pressing threat? Solve that first.

"The most pressing threat is that pissant Harrington," he noted, closing his eyes to think. "But why is he going against me? Is it purely a Crown investigation or is there more…" he reasoned. "…could it be personal? Why would it be personal?"

"What could be personal?" Louisa asked.

His eyes snapped open, and his gaze locked with Louisa's confused gaze through the haze of steam. For one disorienting moment, he didn't know whether this was part of his fantasy or reality.

"Never mind," he sat up. "I'll sort that out later. Do you want to join me?"

She blushed. "I've never…"

"Bathed with a man?" He leaned forward and rested his arms on the rim. His tone held authority and command. "Untie your robe, and let it drop to the floor, slowly."

Lifting her head up, she swallowed, then lifted her hand and undid the tie, slowly parting the lapels, she let the silk slip to her elbows, revealing a sensual slip of creamy satin and lace.

One suit from the modiste had arrived yesterday and he was please to see her wearing it. She untied the bow of her negligee and the bodice fell, revealing one perfect round breast crowned with a ripe cherry nipple.

She untied the bow on her other shoulder, and the negligee fell completely to join her robe on the floor, in a ripple of silken waterfall.

"Come to me." He said, sitting back in the tub,

Her cheeks grew hotter as his gaze settled on her breasts, which jiggled inelegantly with each rise and fall; his gaze raked over the engorged peaks traced her curves and nipped-in waist. Her chest heaved as his gaze roamed over her nudity, the firelight flattering her figure.

Julius could see the exact moment her insecurities came into play as she jerked to a stop and her hands flew to cover herself— the one place she could successfully cover.

Her breasts, hips and belly were still out in display as she did not have enough hands to conceal all that needed to be concealed. She settled for crossing her arms and squeezing her thighs together.

"What did I say about hiding yourself?" he demanded, rising from the tub. Stepping out of the tub, he reached for a towel and dried off, then dropped the cloth into a waiting basket. "Maybe another lesson is in order. Come with me."

"You're not to dress?" she asked.

"No," he said, striding naked into bedroom.

He spotted her eyes darting to his engorged length, thickened and heavy with arousal. From a wardrobe, he plucked up a japanned box and rested it on the bed, he lifted the lacquered lid.

Under watchful brown eyes, he removed a cable of red silk rope and uncoiled it. The silk slid against his palms, a smooth caress.

A wisp of dark hair drifted across her cheek as she looked on and reaching over, he brushing it behind her ear, then plucked the pins from her hair. Dropping the rope on the bed, he rounded to her back "Stay still."

Behind her, he slid his hands under her arms to cup her breasts and she lifted her hands to meet his, but he stopped her, "Do not move."

He savored the way her rounded mounds overflowed his palms, squeezing them as he pressed his body to her back. She trembled at the feel of him nestled on her behind as he strummed her nipples teasing her with leisurely licks and soft nips, gauging what pleased her.

"Your nipples look like ripe berries in the moonlight," he whispered.

Her round bottom shifted from side to side in front of his face, and a groan escaped him. He shuddered as his erection landed in the valley of her buttocks and groaned.

He saw his hands on the pale quivering mounds. "Your body is delectable. Do you know why so many master painters depict goddesses with buxom breasts and rounded hips? They are the quintessential depiction of bounty, of beauty, of life. Celebrate your body, Louisa. You are glorious."

He shifted behind her, pressing his hard length into the crease of her bottom. "You are the most beautiful thing in the world at that moment."

Moving his hands from her breasts, he swept them down her belly and parted her hips with both hands. His thick finger found its way between her folds, gliding easily.

"I knew you'd be wet," he whispered, satisfaction oozing from his voice. He vee'd two fingers and rubbed back and forth around her throbbing nub.

The room went full dark, heavy breathing the only sound. With no more teasing strokes, Julius increased thrust two fingers in her channel and circled her bud with his thumb, mercilessly adding pressure when she arched and mewled.

His cock pulsed against her bottom, eagerly agreeing with the sentiment. He flicked his thumb over the pink nub, and she was gone. A cry tore from her throat as she convulsed around his fingers, her body jackknifing up and her thighs clamping around his hand.

Holding her fast on his body he, kept rubbing and thrusting extending her first orgasm out as long as he could. When the last shudder left her body, she sagged against him, spent, Julius gathered her close, burrowing his nose in her hair and smelling her sweet scent.

"Julius." She pressed a palm to his chest. "That was lovely, but…"

"What's more, you want to know?" he asked, then towed her to bed. "This is what is more. On your knees, in the middle of the bed please. Hands behind your back."

When she did, he joined her and looped the rope around her wrists and knotted it. "You may not believe me, but in the far East this is an art form. It is more than simple knots and ties, it fosters a space of vulnerability, intimacy and trust."

With her hands bound, he pulled her in and ran his nose up the side of her neck then looped a length over her back, around her neck and under her bust. He did the same on the other side and pulled her in, looped the rope around her arms and fixed it to the first know.

Louisa bowed her back, her nipples tight and pebbled with arousal. The beautiful diamond harness lightly squeezed the soft skin of her breasts, plumping them, framing them. It was the prettiest picture Julius had ever seen. Dark hair spilling everywhere, the red rope, her creamy skin.. He couldn't stop the groan that tore from his throat.

"Is it too tight?"

"No," her voice was a whisper.

"Good," he placed a pillow behind her and rested her back on the headboard before he bent her knee and wound the rope over her thigh and ankle, repeated it with the second leg, binding her legs tight—and open.

Each inch of silk that slid through his fingers soothed the itch under his skin and every coil of rope against her smooth skin settled his nerves. And inflamed his desire. He wound and tied, finding peace in the patterns and beauty in the design.

"God, you are beautiful," he ran a hand up her back. "Divine."

He maneuvered her onto stomach, over a stack of pillows and rubbed her bottom. It was the only prelude before his hand came down again.