Chapter Three

W hy send a courier to bring him the contracts when he could retrieve them himself? That was the question Julian asked himself, and the answer was quite clear. It wasn't necessary. The next morning, he ordered the carriage to be brought around, and it was he who presented himself to the door of the Ellington mansion. While he waited, he looked around as the sun and birds made the landscape of the estate a fairy tale of bright-colored flowers with their scent in the air. Finally, Montgomery opened the heavy door and stared at him with a perfectly expressionless face.

"Good morning, sir," the houseman said politely.

"Good morning, Montgomery, and a lovely one at that." Julian's voice was jovial.

The houseman's face stayed passive. "Quite."

Julian had a plan that had set, formed, and taken root in his head. "Is the duchess by chance available to speak to me?"

"It is eleven. She is in her solarium enjoying her morning...constitutional," Montgomery answered. "I can inquire if she will see you."

He stepped aside so Julian could enter the room and left him in the hallway waiting politely for Montgomery to return. His footfalls echoed on the smooth tile floors as he came back to the foyer.

"She will see you, sir. Follow me." Montgomery turned on his heels, and Julian followed without a word.

The duchess's solarium, where she entertained, was filled with sunlight. Instead of being behind a large desk, she instead lounged in a white French chaise lounge with her meal close by and a glass of what he could only assume was champagne. At almost eleven, Julian chose not to ask questions. Thus was the life of the wealthy in high society—champagne flowed like water at any time of the day.

"Julian, so early in the morning to pay a visit." She sat up and smiled. "Why do you grace my home so early? Please...sit."

"To speak with you about your goddaughter." He chose the chair that matched the chaise.

"Delilah is an adventurous spirit." The duchess smiled.

"And I would like to court, and marry, her."

The duchess sat up straighter. "Do not toy with me, Julian Blackshire."

"Bronwyn, you know I never lie," he said with a smile. "I am enthralled by her. I want to make her my bride."

"She won't stay in London. Nothing, not even marriage, will make her stay," the duchess replied sadly.

"I need to know why. There are things she keeps hidden, and I only know that someone tried to take liberties with her."

The duchess's mouth firmed into an angry line. "Not one, two. Lord Gibson and his friend Ian Saur, an American who now lives here in London. Both despots who think old money gives them leave to do anything they want."

He knew the names well, and his hand formed a fist at his side. The reputation that went along with Lord Gibson and his family had been soiled by his grandfather, father, and now him. Ian Saur had brought his prejudices to London, and there were rumors of what he did to the prostitutes in Devil's Acres, but nothing could be proven.

"What happened?" Julian's voice was grim.

The duchess sighed before recounting the story. "They tormented her. At first, I thought it was the young girls who teased her. Then I saw the marks on her skin where they wrenched her arm, and the scratch on her bosom, which was reported to me by her maid. Anytime they were at my estate, they found a chance to grope her, and when I found out...well, I was ready to commit murder."

"Is this why you sent her back home?" he questioned.

"She begged at every turn from the time she turned sixteen. I loved...love her so much, letting her go was unthinkable." Bronwyn put down her glass on the tray next to her. "But on her nineteenth birthday, I knew I had to let her go. They grabbed her, you see, outside of her own party in that very ballroom. Their thought was to take her, use her, and then dispose of her so she could not tell. Gibson hated my love for her. He hates many things because of his father."

Julian's anger simmered beneath the surface. "I think—-I shall kill them both for this."

"I would shed no tears on their behalf," she said with utter certainty. "If not for a man working in my stables, Junior Carver, she would be gone, and my heart would be eternally broken. He heard her screams muffled in one of the stables that was being renovated for new horses I had purchased."

"That is why she trusts him most of all," Julian surmised.

The duchess nodded. "He rushed in as they tore at her clothes and fought like a man possessed by the devil to save her. They tried to quiet her with a hot knife against the skin of her back. The scar is still there today. I knew to save her, I had to set her free. Lord Gibson didn't dare follow because I threatened his father, and they would surely lose titleship. He is married now, or so I hear, but his activities continue. She returned home, fell in love with all she missed, and I see her infrequently, when she visits. I have yet to take the journey to the island."

"I can assure you, Your Grace, no harm will come to her under my care," he said. "I am a firm man, but kind, and I fear she has captivated my soul completely in this short time. I will not let anyone harm a hair on her head, and she will be cherished. That I can promise you."

"Oh Julian, I know you to be honorable, as your father is." The duchess smiled. "I give you my blessing on the courtship of my ward. We should send for her, so she is made aware."

Julian held up his hand. "We should wait for a more opportune time, when she knows me better and will not sneak off into the night and sail away."

Her laugh was loud. The duchess regained her regal decorum, but her eyes still sparkled with merriment. "You are quite right. Delilah would make a hasty retreat. I hope there will be a wedding before she returns to Barbados. You never said what you will do with the distance that will be between you."

He leaned back with a smile. "Where my wife goes, I will follow. I have been thinking quite some time about leaving London. Delilah has given me my new home, but there is much to be done before that time."

"I am so happy, marriage and then babes in my arms I can spoil." She smiled. "That's one way to get me on a ship."

A small knock sounded on the door, and Delilah stepped inside. When she saw Julian there, her eyes widened in surprise.

"Good morning, Julian," she said.

"Delilah, you look beautiful." He stood and took her hand in his.

"Thank you." She looked from her godmother to him curiously. "I heard your laugh as I came down with Juno to walk in the gardens."

"Julian's wit is well-known to make me laugh," the grand duchess said.

"I am here to receive the contracts myself and to invite you to lunch in the park," Julian offered.

"I don't know if that's—"

"Oh Delilah, do go with the man," her godmother interrupted. "Enjoy the sun and the fresh air before the rain takes hold again and we are plunged into days of dreary gray gloom."

"But Juno—"

Again, she was interrupted by the duchess. "Can walk in the gardens with me. Some sun will do me good as well."

"Sally can pack us a picnic lunch. She is known to do that." Julian smiled. "Please say yes and allow me to enjoy your company."

Her wary eyes went from her godmother to him for a moment before she nodded her head.

"Let me get my gloves, and I will be ready," Delilah said. "Aunt Bibbie, I will send Juno in to be with you. Do not ply her with champagne. She is barely twenty."

"And old enough to drink champagne," the duchess pointed out.

"Aunt Bibbie..." Delilah's voice held a warning.

"Fine." The duchess waved her elegant hands airily. "We will walk the gardens and then play cards or dabble in watercolors."

"Alright then," Delilah said. "I'll only be a few minutes."

"I'll be waiting at the bottom of the stairs." Julian turned to her godmother. "Thank you for your audience this morning, Your Grace."

"You are quite welcome." The duchess gave him a wink before he left the solarium and stepped into the hallway.

Watching Delilah walk down the long stairway took his breath away. Her beautiful dark chestnut skin was beautiful against the soft green of her dress. He noted that she still kept her hair down and pulled only the sides back with silver combs.

Heading out the door opened by Montgomery, she spoke to the houseman. "Please don't let her ply Juno with champagne. The smell of rum can give the poor girl leave of her senses."

"I shall try, Miss Delilah," Montgomery answered.

Julian helped her into the carriage before he and his driver lifted the dark canopy that would afford them some shade from the sun. He took off his dark coat and laid it on the bench seat across from them. With a light flick of the reins, the horses moved at a slow trot down the cobblestone driveway. Delilah sat silently beside him for a moment until she gaped in surprise.

"The contracts, we should turn back so I can fetch them," she said, looking behind her.

"I have to return you home safe and sound to the grand duchess," Julian replied, amused. "Unless the house falls to ashes in the next few hours, the contracts will be fine."

Her lips twitched. "I see your point...Thank you for inviting me on this excursion."

"Does that mean you wanted to see me again?" he asked, surprised.

"It means the parks are some of my favorite places to visit." Delilah smiled. "I won't build your ego by admitting such a thing, Julian."

He laughed. "I will have to try my hardest to gain any compliments from you."

"You know what they say, hard work makes the reward all the sweeter." Her own laugh escaped, and Julian found he enjoyed hearing her laugh and seeing her smile.

Deliliah stayed in the carriage while he entered the tearoom to garner them a picnic and came back ten minutes later with a basket covered with a white cloth. She took the basket from him so he could lever himself into the seat beside her, and the carriage moved on toward the park. The driver pulled into a shady spot near a pond where the horses could take a drink. Julian carried the basket, and with her arm through the crook of his, they went in search of the perfect shaded spot to spread the tablecloth.

The stares of others in the park were evident, and when they passed others walking on the path, the whispers began. None of it bothered Julian in the least, and Delilah only inclined her head in greeting if one was offered. They thought so much less of her, yet she was so much better than all of them, even he. Knowing what she'd faced at the hands of Lord Gibson and Saur, she still could see the beauty and kindness in others, even in Emma.

Knowing their names, he knew he would exact his vengeance on the men sooner rather than later. Their brand of evil served no purpose and needed to be removed to keep women safe. They dared not try many things within the ranks of the wealthy, but the poverty-stricken were fair game. That would end. He would ensure that it did.

"This looks like a good place to spread our picnic cloth," Delilah suggested, bringing him out of his inner thoughts.

The large tree created a perfectly shaded canopy yet slivers of sunshine peeked through the leaves. Delilah held the basket while he spread the cloth onto the grass. He took her hand to help her down, and for a moment, all was silent while they took in the day.

"I will have to take you to a picnic on the beach when I return home," Delilah said, "to return the favor of today."

He watched her lift her head to the sky and take a breath as if cleansing her lungs. The line from her neck to her bosom drew his attention, and he longed to touch her and feel her skin beneath his fingertips. Julian was startled by the depth of his feelings and how quickly they surfaced when it came to Delilah. He was not a man with romantic and whimsical notions when it came to marriage.

With his title, he had assumed that when he married, it would be one of convenience where both families' names gained by the union. He put off marriage for so long he thought he would be one of those men with no children and would take a ward under his wings. Then Delilah drew his attention, and now he was about to court her for marriage. How the winds of change blew, and quickly at that.

"You are staring at me, and quite severely, I might add," Delilah pointed out.

"I am captivated by your beauty," Julian answered in a quite charming manner. "I am trying to tell myself this is not a dream, and you are right here."

She smiled. "That is a bit much, don't you think?"

"I concur, yet it is true," he laughed. "Now let's see what is in this basket, shall we?"

There were two types of fowl, duck, and chicken, cooked to perfection and portioned so pieces could be plucked from the bowl and eaten elegantly. Sliced ham, breads, and strawberries with fresh cream were also in the basket.

"Sally provided us lunch and dinner in this basket, there is so much of it," Delilah said, looking at each dish as he took it out. "If I may ask, can we give the rest to some poor family in the Acres?"

"They can keep the whole basket, and I will compensate Sally for the last of the items," he answered easily.

She smiled. "Thank you, I'll add some money to the basket so they can buy stock for their pantry."

"Most wouldn't think of the people in Devil's Acres. They'd rather feed the rest of their meal to the dogs." Julian placed a piece of duck to her lips. "Here, try this."

She took the morsel, chewed. "It is very good, and I think about everyone. There is such a chasm between the rich and the poor in London. My small boon won't help but one family."

"Charity work in the Acres is very much lacking," he commented. "Unless there is a missionary force offering bread and literature on saving their souls from the dark deeds done in the streets, not many go into the Acres."

"And do you go to the Acres to take pleasures from the women who must sell their bodies to survive in that hell?" she asked bluntly.

The question didn't offend Julian. He knew that wives had to look beyond them when it came to their husbands' proclivities.

"I do not, and I have no need to use any woman in that manner," he answered. "I am not pious. I have had lovers in my bed, and none were from the Acres."

"Women like Emma Smith, I must assume." This time it was she who picked from the assortment of foods spread out before them and nibbled at a small slice of cheese.

"I said before, that woman has never been in my bed," Julian said firmly. "Do you think I would lie about such a thing?"

Delilah looked at him. "I find men choose their lies, and their truths, very carefully to get what they want."

"I am not that type of man," he assured her.

She hesitated and answered honestly. "I believe you."

Their conversation turned to the activities that most took part in over the summer, luncheons and outdoor galas, the gypsy fairs that came through the city to entertain. Their conversation was lively. Delilah was versed in subjects from literature to philosophy, and the fact that she was an educated woman charmed him all the more. He much preferred a wife that could match him in wit and with whom he could have lively debates, and Delilah spoke passionately in every part of their conversation.

"You are very learned," he commented.

"Thank you." She took off her gloves and played with the grass beside them. "Many judge a book by its cover and would think that, because of our color, we are illiterate. Your secretary, for instance, assumed that Juno couldn't read."

"I will have a talk with her about such an assumption," he promised.

She patted his thigh. "There is no need. It's the perception she was taught to believe."

"But one that should be corrected in many," he pointed out. "It is best I speak with her. My businesses deal with all kinds."

"It is your choice to make."

"I suspect you have read many of the books, if not all, in your godmother's library," he said with a smile. "I can picture you sitting at a window engrossed in the words on the page."

"Oh yes, I'm a lover of books. Many things interest me, and every time I come to London, at least two trunks are filled with books and stationery before I leave," she said lightly. "I also have a love of penning letters."

"Will you write me a letter?" Julian asked.

"What should it say?"

He played with a tendril of her hair. "I will leave that to you, but maybe some affection toward me."

"My affection would please you?" Her voice was soft in its question.

Julian nodded. "Very much so."

"Then I shall write you a letter."

How would she take the news of their courtship? He assumed it would be with anger and some dispute as to the thought of marriage. He was a patient man, and there was an instant attraction between them even if she feared or didn't understand her feelings.

"Tell me, what do you do for entertainment on a small island?" Julian asked.

"There are the races. Those with horses bring them out to the wide fields, part of the small armory, and race them on Sundays," Delilah answered. "The beach. The festivals that celebrate each parish, they start right after Easter, and there are eleven parishes. Everyone brings out their beadwork or carvings or sewn blankets to sell. Music and food...they are all quite fun."

"Will there be any of these festivals when we arrive?" he asked. "I would like to see them."

She laughed. "More than you can count, and the rum shops are filled to the brim."

"And what of the pirate Sam Lord? Is that salty dog still on the island?" Impulsively, he picked up a strawberry, dipped it in the fresh cream, and held it to her lips.

"His castle is completed in the parish of St. Philip, and he resides there, doing the things he does." She bit into the fresh fruit, chewed, and a soft sound of pleasure escaped her at the taste. After her mouth was empty, she spoke again. "His wealth, of course, is from plundering the ships stranded on the rocks and reef on that side of the island. I have no doubt that he helps that along just a bit by tricking ship captains with false lights. There are rumors, but no one would dare speak to them to his face."

His libido kicked in watching her soft lips wrap around the ripe, soft berry and bite. Julian popped the rest in his mouth and hoped to gain a taste of her lips through that action alone.

"I am more apt to believe that he does," he replied. "It will be good to see him again."

She looked at him in surprise. "You know Samuel Lord? Dukes forming friendships with buccaneers, how marvelous is that!"

"He wasn't always a pirate, and he is an acquaintance of my father and then me," he explained. "He is older, so I'm sure his activities have slowed some."

"One would think," she murmured, "but I doubt that is the case."

A pleasant silence settled between them, and Julian found himself mapping her face while committing it to his memory.

"You constantly stare at me," she complained.

"That is because right at this moment, I am thinking about the kiss we shared and craving another," he admitted huskily. "Would you let me kiss you again, Delilah?"

"I don't know if—"

Her words were cut off when a scream sounded in the air, and Julian turned in its direction. Two horses attached to their carriage careened toward them. The horses were wild, and the carriage rocked precariously as they galloped toward where he and Delilah sat. There was no time to run. Instead, Julian pulled her close to his chest and rolled, taking her off the blanket to the grass, away from the hooves that would surely trample them. The sound of shattering plates filled his ears, and he kept her protected beneath him until the danger had passed.

"Grab those horses!" His shout held such fury that the three men who raced behind the out-of-control carriage picked up their pace.

"Yes, sir!"

"Are you injured in any way?" Julian looked down at Delilah and pushed her hair from her face.

"I don't think so." Her voice trembled. "That was a fright. How did the horses escape their driver?"

He stood and pulled her up with him. "That is what I will find out. Stay here."

She nodded, and he strode away in the direction of the carriage that had been finally stopped by someone who was able to catch hold of the reins.

"Who owns this?" His voice was tight with anger. Julian was liable to throttle the man who took ownership.

"We don't know, sir," said the man holding the reins. "The driver's bloody well run off."

"What made them run?" Julian moved around each horse, checking them for injury, and noticed a trickle of blood from a small would on the back flank of one of the animals. "Ah, I see, you were stabbed then."

The man behind him gasped in outrage. "Who would do that to a horse?"

"Someone who wanted them to run off in pain in the direction of me and my guest," Julian said grimly. "I'm Duke Blackshire."

"Aye, yes, I know who you are." The man's accent was thick.

"I want you to find out whose carriage and horses these are and report it to me," Julian ordered. "You will be paid handsomely for the information."

The weathered face of the man broke into a wide smile. "Yes, sir, I'll find out for sure."

Knowing their afternoon was ruined, Julian walked back to where Delilah stood...alone. That infuriated him even more. If it was any other woman with fairer skin, there would be a crowd of people around her to attend to her care. Knowing this was not an accident put him on edge, and now he wanted to know who would dare try to hurt Delilah for being in his company. The constables stopped him for a statement and then found a lad to clean up the mess from the grass.

"Are the horses alright?" Delilah asked in concern.

"They are, just a fright that made them run." He chose not to tell her this was done on purpose with the intent to hurt her. "But I fear our afternoon is over."

"I agree. All the food is ruined." She looked down with a frown. "Now no one will be able to enjoy the food in the Acres."

"I'll send ten baskets for ten families with money in the bottom of each." Julian cupped her cheek. "Would that make you happy?"

She nodded. "Why yes, it would, thank you."

"I would do anything to make you smile," he said huskily before pressing his lips against hers for a soft kiss.

His driver brought the carriage to them, and after helping her inside, they made their way back to the Ellington estate. After making sure she was inside and safe, and with contracts in hand, Julian returned to the carriage and this time made his way to his offices. He strode through the doors and past his secretary.

"Paulette, go upstairs and tell Mr. Hershel I'd like to see him in my office," Julian said.

"Yes, Your Grace." She stood, but his voice soon caused her to stop.

"And Paulette—"

"Yes, Your Grace?"

"Anyone who comes through those doors, regardless of color or social status, will be treated with respect. Am I clear?" Julian asked.

She gave a quick nod. "Yes, Your Grace, it was not my intent."

"It is a good thing Miss Le Croix thought the same, or this would be another conversation about your severance pay," he said in a stern tone.

"Yes, Your Grace, my apologies. I'll go fetch Mr. Hershel directly."

While in his office, Julian poured himself a brandy to settle his anger. There was obviously some kind of plot to hurt Delilah. He would find out the culprit and see them punished for the danger to her life. She was under his protection. Mine , he thought, my Delilah , and he would take the hands of any man who meant her harm.

DELILAH SAT AT THE writing table in the sitting room that was part of the suite she and Juno resided in at Aunt Bibbie's estate. On stationery that featured her illustrations of sunflowers on each corner, she had sprayed a hint of hibiscus perfume, waving the paper in the air for it to dry before she began penning a letter to Julian. She thanked him for the contracts and wished them both success in their new business venture. Delilah also wrote of her enjoyment of their tea and picnic lunch days earlier and expressed that the two kisses they shared made her think of romance.

Was that too honest? She hesitated for a moment and decided to leave it before ending the letter with one of her favorite poems, one she was sure Julian would like. Juno was off with one of the kitchen girls to explore the market as they shopped for evening supper, and Delilah had found herself alone with her thoughts and chosen to write the letter. This was one of her better visits to London. She smiled at the thought.

A knock on the door brought her attention back to the letter. After signing it quickly and slipping it into an envelope, she called for the person to enter.

"Her Grace would like to see you downstairs. She is in the solarium," one of the young maids said. "I was also told to inform you that Duke Blackshire would be here soon to walk with you in the gardens."

"I saw him day before last." Delilah shook her head. "Never mind, I'll be down shortly, thank you."

With a nod, the maid left and closed the door gently behind her. Delilah found her shoes and slipped her feet into them, almost sadly, and took her letter with her downstairs to find Aunt Bibbie.

In the solarium, large elephant ear plants graced massive clay pots that had been painted cobalt-blue before being fired in the kiln. Her godmother had a love of exotic plants, and in the winter, the solarium offered her exotic blooms sunlight and adequate heat to keep them alive though the long, cold months. Her favorites were the African violets and hibiscus bushes. Delilah had brought the small, rooted plants on one of her last visits to London. With her godmother's care, they bloomed magnificently into vibrant reds, oranges, pinks, and yellows.

"These are beautiful, Aunt Bibbie." Delilah touched a fragile petal on one of the blooms. "You can grow anything."

Her godmother's laugh was like the twitter of a bird. "Thank you, darling girl. Take one of the pink ones and tuck it in your hair. It matches your dress."

Delilah did as she was told and went over to sit next to the woman who was like a second mother to her.

"You sent for me?"

The duchess patted Delilah's hand. "I feel as if we should have a grand party as a goodbye celebration."

"We already had a party to celebrate my arrival," Delilah pointed out in amusement. "I'm not leaving for another two weeks."

"Well, a summer gala then. We'll go with a theme, like the Garden of Eden!"

"Aunt Bibbie, you know how I feel—"

"Oh, don't take this from me, child," she begged. "I need to have some kind of fun even at my tender old age. There might not be much time for me after this..."

"Please stop before your tangent starts about your age and imminent death," Delilah said dryly.

"It's not a tangent, but the hard truth, one that I must face," she sniffed.

"You can have your party, Aunt Bibbie," Delilah sighed, knowing it was hopeless to argue. "I think you wait for my arrival yearly to do this. Are there any winter parties at the mansion?"

"That depends." The duchess gave her a sidelong glance. "Will you be here for Christmas?"

Delilah laughed and kissed her cheek. "You are incorrigible!"

Aunt Bibbie smiled. "I am. Now tell me, for whom is that letter you are holding on to so tightly?"

"Julian, he asked me to write him a letter," Delilah answered. "I spoke of our contracts and that I liked how he kissed me."

The duchess gasped. "So, he kissed you! Well, what were your thoughts on said kisses?"

"They were pleasant," Delilah admitted. "I have no more experience past that."

"With the one you love, intimacy can be like fireworks in the sky." Her godmother arced her hands in the air.

Delilah looked at her in surprise. "You told me it was a cross most women had to bear."

"And I am correct. Most marriages aren't for love, darling girl, and some women cannot and do not know their husbands' dispositions until their wedding night," Aunt Bibbie explained. "The grand duke was my one and only love. Together we made magic. While others must deal with perversion and infidelity from the men they marry, Julian is a kind man, gentle, but fiercely protective."

"Well, I'm sure he will marry well. I'll be leaving soon enough, and I'm sure his interest will turn to someone deemed suitable by high society standards." Delilah frowned. Why did that thought make her irritable?

"You say one thing, and your face says another." The duchess smiled. "Maybe you should let go the tight reins you have on your emotions and embrace what you feel?"

Delilah thought of the mark on her back and how she came to have it. "I choose to protect myself, Aunt Bibbie, from pain that is physical and from heartbreak. Both are equally horrid."

"I hope this changes in your mind," the duchess said sadly. "Don't let the actions of evil men destroy any hopes of happiness you may have."

Montgomery stepped into the room. "Duke Blackshire is here, Your Grace."

He stepped aside, and Julian entered the solarium. He was dressed in a tweed walking coat with brown pants to match, his shoes polished till they gleamed, matching the colors of his suit. His dark hair was free, and a loose wave hung down on his forehead before he used his fingers to comb it back into place.

"Well, Julian, you look more relaxed than I've ever seen you," the duchess commented.

"One, at some points, must loosen his tie and make sure a few buttons are undone," he answered, his eyes focused on Delilah, and she felt her breath catch in her throat. "Delilah, you're a breath of fresh air. The days where the clouds are gone, and the skies are blue only enhance your beauty."

"Well, goodness, that should be a poem." The duchess clasped her hands together. "Go enjoy your walk, the both of you."

"I'll be back in time for our game of cards, Aunt Bibbie," Delilah promised.

"Take your time, darling," she replied. "Lady Gibson will be coming for tea."

Hearing the name made her steps falter, and fear clutched at her heart.

"Will Lord Gibson be with her?" There was a tremble in her voice, one that she hated.

"No dear, he will not, and he can't harm you here," the duchess assured her gently. "She comes to ask a favor of me. She is quite a gentle soul, unlike her husband. She is one who did not marry well."

"Lord Gibson needs the money. The woman is of no concern to him," Julian said grimly. "If her father was not around to keep an eye to his daughter, she'd be dead or in Bedlam."

"You are safe, dear. She'll be gone before you return," Aunt Bibbie promised.

Delilah gave a stiff nod and allowed Julian to take her hand and tuck it into the crook of his.

"I'm here," he assured her. "Even if he was in attendance, I would kill him before he could even look at you."

She looked up at him. "You don't know what he's done."

"His name is known, and I can only imagine it was nothing good," Julian told her. "Let's not let him or his wife ruin our afternoon in the garden. I brought you a gift."

"Really? Where is it?" Delilah asked as they stepped out into the sunshine. The path would take them around the mansion and into the back garden. She looked curiously behind his back where his hand was.

"In my pocket," he said with a laugh. "Your face lit up like a child at the word ‘gift.'"

She pursed her lips. "Anyone would be excited to hear they are getting a gift. Oh, here is your letter I wrote. I hope you enjoy my words."

Julian lifted the envelope to his nose and inhaled deeply. "Mmmm, I'm sure the scent will remind me of you."

"It is my favorite perfume," she told him as he slipped it into the breast pocket of his coat.

"And now it's my favorite perfume," he teased. "Tell me where I can buy you more by the gallons."

Her laugh was light. "From the apothecary in Barbados, the perfumer makes this special for me, using the ingredients I chose."

"So, he's created this just to intoxicate me."

Delilah could feel his fingers caressing the skin of her hand as they walked. The sensation was like tiny slivers of heat that worked their way up her arm. Finding she liked his touch entirely too much, she tried to pull her hand away without success.

"We hold hands like we're forming some kind of courtship," she stated matter-of-factly.

"If we were, what would you think?" His tone changed to a deep timbre.

"It wouldn't be logical or practical since I live across the seas and you are here," Delilah said. "I will not live in London ever again, and your business and life are here."

Julian was silent for a moment. "Destiny sends us on different paths, some we don't expect."

She nodded. "True, but in this case, destiny could kiss my rump because London is not for me."

He laughed loudly at her words before reaching into his pocket as they stopped. "This is for you. Open your hand and close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Just do it, woman."

"Very well."

She did as she was told, and he placed something cool and metallic in her palm before closing her fingers around it and pressing a kiss on her closed fist.

"Now you can open your eyes and look," he encouraged.

Delilah looked down, and in her hand was a silver locket with an emerald on the outside between elegant etching. Opening the oval pendant, the size of a fifty-cent piece, on the inside she saw a picture of Julian.

"This is beautiful, but I cannot accept it," she said. "This gift is much too personal and intimate."

Julian took it just long enough to open the chain. "Lift your hair, please."

"Julian..."

"Please."

His soft "please" was her undoing. Besides, what was the harm of having a locket with his picture on her return to Barbados? It could serve as a reminder of the pleasant time in London and the way he had charmed and kissed her.

"There is no ulterior motive behind this gift, other than for you to look at the picture and think of me." He kissed the nape of her neck before Delilah could lower her hair.

"Thank you, I shall," she answered as they began walking again.

Passing by the rosebushes, they walked in a comfortable silence broken up with the gentle sound of the water from the fountain bubbling merrily. They passed by a shaded area in the meditation nook, and suddenly, Julian turned her, and she was pressed against the wall. Fear filled her, and she opened her mouth to scream, ready to fight for her life to escape.

"Shhh, I'll not hurt you," Julian promised huskily. "I abhor whatever happened to you to make you feel that I could be a threat."

"I had no say. I had to fight," she whispered.

"Place your hands upon my chest," he demanded gently. "Good. Feel my heart. Look in my eyes. Do you fear me, Delilah?"

She licked her lips before speaking. "No, I...I feel..."

"Feel?"

"Safe," she admitted. "Warm, protected."

"What else?" His voice was a husky rasp.

"Excited," she stated. "You are so close, and my heart races because I think you will kiss me."

"And if I did, would you accept my kiss or be afraid?"

She took a breath. "I would not be afraid, and yes, I would like your lips on mine."

"Delilah."

Her name was a groan on his lips before he took hers in a fierce kiss, one that devasted her senses, and her legs felt weak at his touch. As he penetrated her mouth with his tongue, Julian pressed his body closer to her, until she could feel the hard angles of his body. On instinct, Delilah's arms crept up around his neck, and she buried her fingers in the hair at his nape. He shuddered, his moan reverberating through his body to hers. Feeling brazen, Delilah took a taste of him by licking along the inner side of his lower lip and tentatively slipping her tongue into his mouth.

His reaction was intense. Julian moved against her, lifting her so she was pressed even closet to him, and it was he who wrenched his lips away. He nuzzled her neck and kissed his way down to her cleavage while she held his head against her chest. Delilah's rational, logical thinking was gone, and she just submitted to the onslaught of sensations assaulting her body. Julian pressed soft, feather-like kisses on the corners of her mouth.

"Write me another letter," he demanded between their harsh breathing.

"What should it say?" Delilah gasped.

"Tell me you are mine, that you long for my touch against your bare skin." He punctuated his words with another deep kiss. "Tell me how my kisses make you feel. I want to read of your affection and need for me."

"I will," she promised. "How does your kiss manage to make me take leave of my senses?"

"It's passion, love." He looked down at her with a smile and caressed her cheek. "With the right person, that spark becomes a flame, and then you submerge in the heat willingly."

Julian straightened and stepped away, and she watched as a large breath expanded his broad chest.

"Let us continue our walk," he encouraged. "We can sit on the bench for a while."

"That sounds wonderful, but my legs are a bit weak," she admitted honestly.

"Dear Lord, you may kill me. Your words are so innocent, and you don't know what they do to me."

"Then maybe you should pen me a letter and tell me what you feel," Delilah replied.

Julian's grin was wicked. "I think I'll do that, but it will be for your eyes only."

"Of course."

For the rest of the afternoon, the thought of their interaction made her feel warm all over, and her heart ached sweetly. Delilah knew she was playing with fire but could not stop the longing to be in his arms again. Her usual way to think all things through had flown away when it came to Duke Julian Blackshire, and she knew this path may lead to the heartbreak she feared. Yet she couldn't stop walking on that winding road, and she caressed the locket she wore in bed that night, immersed in her thoughts. She turned flat on her back, wondering if Julian was staring at a ceiling similar to this while thinking of her at that very moment as well.

"Oh Julian, you may be my damnation," she murmured with a sigh.

Sleep evaded her for long hours that night, and when she did close her eyes, Julian's face haunted her dreams.