Always a Rogue, Forever Her Love (12 page)

“I’m the Earl of Sinclair,” he interjected. “I can do whatever I want, Juliet.”

A breathless laugh, more of a sob, worked its way up her throat. It spilled past her lips, the sound desperate to her own ears. Oh, her boldly arrogant Jonathan. He saw the world in absolutes. He didn’t know, nor likely had ever known, the shades of uncertainties in between the unpleasantness of life. All he knew was that he wanted her in the physical sense. He wanted ownership of her body, but not her heart.
What did you think, you silly fool?
A jeering voice echoed around her mind.
That he would wed you?
No, earls didn’t wed their sisters’ governess.

As though he detected the shock in her silent thoughts, he again said, “Be my mistress, Juliet. I’ll give you your cottage. I’ll give you more jewels than you know what to do with. I’ll give you any damn trinket your heart desires.”

Her heart wrenched. “Your mistress,” she said, her voice hollow. He’d make her his mistress. He’d put to her the very same indecent proposal made by Lord Williams. He knew her so very little that he should believe baubles meant more to her than her own respectability.

Jonathan continued, seeming unaware of the turbulent emotions raging through her. “You’ll never have to take employment as a blasted governess again. You’ll live for the pleasure I can give you.”

Because she was a weak-willed fool, she allowed him to pull her into his arms and kiss her until all coherent thought fled, until she was whimpering his name, almost prepared to accept the offer he put to her.

He pulled back, and placed a kiss at the corner of her lips. “You are so beautiful. ‘But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and you are the sun.’ And you’ve set me afire, sweet Juliet.”

His unwitting words of the star-crossed lovers and their family of enemies yanked her viciously from the moment. She wrenched away from him, her breath coming in fast, hard pants. Juliet touched a hand to her heart in attempt to slow the pounding organ.

“What is it?” But for the hoarse edge to those three words, she’d not know that this man had been the same one to caress her body, and search her mouth with such a fierce intensity.

She slipped her fingers into his, and guided his hand back to his side. “Don’t,” she whispered, as the implications of her actions here, in this very place slowly sank into her like a foot attempting to slog through thick mud.
“Oh, God,” she whispered, and raised a trembling hand to her mussed locks. She tucked the loose, flyaway strands behind her ears.

You’re one of Sin’s fancy pieces.
Prudence’s earlier accusation resonated in her head like the loud chimes of church bells. Because even a girl of fifteen had detected Jonathan’s dishonorable intentions toward Juliet. Become his mistress, indeed.

What had happened here, with this man, their very actions jeopardized the stability she’d hungered for this past year. With his intoxicating kiss, and expert touch she risked her good name, her virtue. “Oh, God,” she repeated, shaking her head. She’d been so very close to laying herself open, fearless to his invasion, and then what would have become of her? In the end, she would have been nothing more than the fallen woman Lord Williams had attempted to make of her.

Jonathan placed his hands upon her shoulders and turned her to face him. His stark white gloves a vivid reminder of the great divide between their stations; he, a powerful, sophisticated nobleman, and she…a small baronet’s sister, and now governess. “We’ve done nothing wrong. We are both adults who know what we want, Juliet. I want you, and you want—”

She slapped her hands over her ears and cringed. “Stop.” Juliet shied away from his touch. Why, he saw her as nothing more than a woman of questionable moral standing, and she’d done nothing but indulge those assumptions. A bitter laugh gurgled up from her throat. She’d leaned into him and begged for his kiss like any common strumpet in the street.

“Don’t look like that, Juliet,” he ordered, his tone harsh and angry.

She ignored him, and took a step backward. With fingers that shook she gathered together sketchbook and charcoals. “And so there are no misunderstandings between us, my lord, I will never, ever become your mistress.”
I should have left this room the moment you entered.

His thick-hooded lashes veiled his eyes. “Never is a very long time.”

“If you’ll excuse me, my lord,” she said on a shattered whisper and then turned and fled.

Perhaps she was something of a coward after all.

Chapter 9

At the breakfast table the following morning, Jonathan read and re-read the same five lines in the copy of
The Times
about a certain Lord L being discovered in a compromising position with Lady-Something-Or-Another.

In the thirty-minutes since he had entered the breakfast room and sat to enjoy the newspaper, a coffee, and a plate of cold ham and baked eggs covered in a tomato sauce, he’d not managed to learn the identity of that particular woman discovered with Lord L. In large part because he truly didn’t give a fig if Lord L was diddling his butler.

In larger part because he couldn’t, for all his wealth and holdings, ignore Juliet or the memory of their kiss last evening. Her position at the opposite end of the long breakfast table only made his already exceedingly difficult task of forgetting the lady all the more impossible. He’d offered to make her his mistress. Had offered her wealth beyond anything she’d ever earn in the course of her lifetime as a governess. He’d even offered her that bloody cottage. And how had she responded to his offer? She’d eyed him like he was a spider who’d crawled between her bed sheets.

In the end, he’d felt like that damned spider that had crawled into her bed.

Over the years, he had become accustomed to women vying for a place in his bed. He didn’t beg women, but rather had they begged for the pleasure of his touch. Juliet, however, had tipped her chin up and flatly rejected his offer.
I will never, ever become your mistress.
Never, indeed.

Poppy, seated alongside Juliet, prattled on in the young woman’s ears, which he found he didn’t mind for the distraction afforded him with an opportunity to study Juliet.

He lowered his paper,
not
because he needed another glimpse of the crimson siren whose kiss had stolen all hope of sleep from him, until the morning sun peeked beyond the distant horizon. Her proud shoulders stiffened. He picked up his coffee and took a sip of the vile brew.

“Are you listening to me, Jonathan?” Prudence called from across the table, with a touch of impatience.

“No,” he said over the rim of his glass.

His sister pointed her eyes to the ceiling, appropriately vexed. “You’re insufferable,” she lamented, and then promptly dismissed him.

Which was very good, because in the moment he cared about his sister’s words with the same level of interest he cared about Lord L’s dalliance with Lady Someone-Or-Another.

Juliet’s long fingers toyed with the fork, and his eyes narrowed at the faint tremble to those digits. He found some solace in knowing the young lady experienced at least some level of discomfit in his presence. With a smile, he again picked up his paper, and peered around the edge of it over in Juliet’s direction.

She nibbled at the edge of her roll. The sweetly erotic image conjured a remembrance of their kiss last evening. Jonathan fought back a groan.

Then, she peeked up at him. Their gazes met. Held. And then she returned her attention to the buttered roll, cold ham, baked eggs, and bacon atop her dish. His lips twitched. Well, if that wasn’t quite the breakfast plate for such a lithe, slender young lady.

Prudence cleared her throat.

Jonathan jerked his attention back to the page in front of him, lest his sister note his untoward interest in Miss Juliet Marsh.

Prudence coughed.

He rustled the paper. “Perhaps you need a drink, Pru?” he suggested, drolly.

“I assure you,
I’m
just fine,” she returned.

Jonathan lowered the page slightly, and arched a brow.

His minx of a sister waved a hand in his general direction. “I merely wondered how long you intended to study that same page before you realized your paper is flipped upside down?” she called loudly from her spot at the opposite end of the table. A heavy amount of humor laced her question.

His gaze flew back to the copy of
The Times
in his hands.
Bloody hell.

Poppy and Penelope erupted into a flurry of giggles.

Mother quietly scolded them, until they fell silent.

Of course the second eldest of his sisters, the troublesome bit of baggage, would not let the matter die. “I must admit, Sin, I find myself left speechless at your remarkable talents.”

Penelope and Poppy tittered behind their hands, encouraging Prudence.

Jonathan flipped the page around so quick, the bottom corner dipped into the tomato sauce atop his egg, coating the sheet in a slimy, orange-red film.
Oh, well hell and damn, now.

Prudence gestured to the newspaper. “Why, I’ve never known one to read a paper upside down before.”

Patrina pointed her eyes to the ceiling as though she’d not been the same vexing, troublesome bit of baggage herself a mere handful of months ago.

Juliet leaned close to Prudence and whispered something for the girl’s ears alone. His sister’s mouth tightened, and then quite shockingly, she fell silent.

Feeling eyes upon him, Jonathan glanced around to find his mother’s stern gaze trained upon him. A frown marred her ageless face. Jonathan snapped his paper closed, and tossed it down onto the table. He returned his gaze to Juliet.

She colored prettily and dropped her gaze to her plate. Ah, the sweet minx might prefer to maintain a façade of indifference, but her kiss and the blush upon her cheeks spoke to her desires.

“Miss Marsh, perhaps we might meet at the beginning of each week and discuss your plans for the girls.”

Juliet’s head whipped around to face his mother with such alacrity he imagined her neck muscles ached like the devil. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to cross over to her and run his palms over the sweet, satiny softness of her flesh.

“I thought to begin with watercolors and charcoal, my lady. If that meets with your approval.”

“It does,” Jonathan interjected. He picked up his cold coffee and took another sip. “Perhaps we might spend this day shopping for any items you might require to deliver your instruction.” Usually loath to shop in London, he found he preferred the intimate time it afforded him with his new governess.

“You want to shop again?” Prudence shot back incredulously. She shook her head. She and Patrina spoke in unison. “You never want to shop.”

Prudence continued on. “First the ribbons, and now the…”

He fixed his eyes on her from over the rim of his glass of coffee. She lowered her brows. He stared back intently.

“Er, I meant to say how very fortunate we are to have a brother as you,” she said with a nauseating sweetness.

He stole a glance at his mother to find whether she’d detected the patent insincerity in his sister’s words, but her face remained set in the smooth, unbothered lines he’d come to expect of the graceful countess. Instead, she remained focused on Juliet. “You are proficient in art, then, Miss Marsh?”

Juliet hesitated a moment, and then nodded once. “I am proficient, my lady, particularly with charcoals.”

Mother wrinkled her brow. “Charcoals, you say? That is rather unconventional,” she said as if more to herself.

Juliet inclined her head. “It is, my lady. I began when I was Poppy’s age.” Then she looked to Jonathan. “Nor do I require any supplies at this time, my lord. I have an adequate amount of materials for each of the girls.”

He absently swirled the contents of his glass. Like hell she did. A trio of groans sounded about the table at the end of the girls’ dream of a shopping trip. He frowned as with their dreams went his hope of an additional meeting with the lovely Miss Marshville. “I insist, Miss Marsh.”

Alas, she demonstrated a warrior’s determination. Juliet leaned forward in her seat. “And I insist that we do not require anything at this time. My lord,” she added almost as an afterthought.

Mother cleared her throat. Juliet and Jonathan jumped. “It is settled then, I believe, Jonathan.”

The hell it was. Jonathan took a final sip of his coffee and set it down. He tipped his head in Juliet’s direction. “Very well, Miss Marsh. If you, however require anything of me, if you are in need of anything you can but ask and I’ll see your desires met.” From the heightened hue upon her cheeks, his clever Juliet had clearly followed the double entendre behind his very deliberate words.

She shoved back her chair and surged to her feet so quickly, the delicate wood scraped upon the wood floor. “Shall we begin then, my ladies?”

Poppy and Penelope stared at her like she’d sprouted a second head, whereas Prudence… His frown deepened. Whereas Prudence had a knowing glint in her entirely too young eyes.

Jonathan gave a quick clap of his hands. “I bid thee good day, my lovely sisters.”

Penelope pointed at him. “You’ll promise to take us shopping though?”

“Of course,” he assured her with deliberate somberness. He marked an X upon his chest. “I am a brother of his word.”

His three sisters looked between one another, and seemed to come to a silent, unspoken consensus for they all nodded in unison and trotted after Juliet like a bevy of Prinny’s pugs.

Jonathan shifted in his seat to better avail himself to his view of Juliet’s sweetly rounded, departing derriere.

“Jonathan!” his mother snapped.

He forced his attention back to his mother’s suspicious stare. “Hmm, uh-yes, Mother?”

“Now that we’ve addressed the matter of the governess…”

Now that
he’d
addressed the matter…

“There is the matter of your future countess.”

Patrina inclined her head looking entirely too much like Mother. One mother was quite enough. Two was not to be countenanced. “And it is a very important matter, Jonathan.”