Her Secondhand Groom (23 page)

His boyishly red face, complete with him blinking his eyes and biting his lip did nothing to settle the rage building in Juliet’s chest. “You are a very arrogant man! Just because my family doesn’t have the wealth or connections you come from, does not give you leave to demean me. I’ll admit, I may not have grown up having baths as frequently as you. And I will also admit my family members walked in on me from time to time, thus leading me not to be as modest as most. But, you go too far when you imply that I have no modesty or shame.”

Drake crossed his arms. “Then why are you bathing in such a public place as the kitchen?”

She stared at him, dumbfounded. “And where else would I bathe?”

“
Your room.”

“
And which room would that be, my lord?”

His mouth worked, but no words came out.

She smiled. “That’s what I thought.”

“
What’s what you thought?” he snapped.

“
You don’t know where I fit in your life.” Her words weren’t meant as anything other than just a statement of the truth, but for some reason he winced.

“
Is that what you really think?” He sat down on the stool next to her tub not bothering to pick up her towel before sitting on it.

“
Yes. That’s exactly what I think. Though you married me in hopes of having me work as a governess to your daughters, you realized that wouldn’t work because I’m your wife. Well, for appearance sake, anyway.” She gave up the fight to keep herself covered and stood. Modesty was a small sacrifice to be able to leave the room.

“
What’s that to mean?”

She shrugged, then a blush crept over her when she realized the movement made her breasts bounce before his gaze. “It means for the sake of appearances I am your wife. Nothing more. The only time you’ve ever been kind to me was when we were in public and you had to in order to keep up the facade. But when it’s just us, the real you comes out.”

“
The real me?”

“
Yes. The real you. The one who’s condescending and disinterested.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why I’m even explaining this to you. Would you please get up. You’re sitting on my towel.”

He didn’t budge. “Juliet, I―I―”

“
Don’t bother yourself, Drake. I know you have no desire to actually make me your wife in truth. But I’d rather you not pretend to have any feelings beyond cold indifference outside the estate if that’s all you’re going to have inside.” Inclining her chin, she walked away from him.

He called her name, but she didn’t stop. In fact, she quickened her pace.

Opening the kitchen door a crack, she peeked into the hallway to make sure nobody was immediately outside of the kitchen. Satisfied she would not be seen in such a scandalous state, Juliet rushed across the hall and hid in the pantry to wait for Drake to leave so she could at least get her towel.

Chapter 18

Patrick swallowed as he shamelessly stared at Juliet’s back as she walked away from him to quit the room. Even for as bold as she was, he was certain she wouldn’t actually walk very far without a stitch of clothes covering her. But instead of being the gentleman and rushing to hand her a blasted towel, he played the role of the cad and stayed firmly on that stool, taking in her luscious backside with his eyes.

Only a matter of seconds later, Juliet slipped from view and Patrick suppressed a groan. He’d not been ready to give up his view of her delectable body. He blew out a breath and scratched his jaw. He needed to wait a few minutes before leaving, but not too long or he’d miss her. He took out his pocket watch and waited for two minutes to tick off before standing up and picking up her towel.

Whistling, he left the kitchen and went straight to the door he knew she had to be behind. A million thoughts raced through his mind. But none of them seemed right. He’d tried to put voice to his feelings in the kitchen, but he’d let his mouth get away from him and he’d made a hash of things. Again. He twisted his lips. What was it about her that drove him to constantly make such an ass of himself?

Shrugging off the thought, he opened the door. “I brought you something,” he said when his eyes landed on Juliet.

Her grey eyes pierced him and she reached for the towel he was holding. She wrapped it around herself, then crossed her arms in front of her.

He stepped into the pantry, swallowing his unease with each step. “Is that what you want, Juliet?”

“
What?”

“
For me to make you my wife in truth?” His voice thick with desire.

Juliet didn’t respond.

Patrick took her downcast face in his hands and tilted it up toward his. “Would you like to come upstairs with me?”

Her wide, grey eyes refused to meet his.

Lowering his lashes, Patrick let his eyes feast on her plump pink lips. He bet they were soft. They looked soft. His right thumb came up and lightly ran across her bottom lip. He added a hint of pressure to steady its tremble. “Let’s go upstairs,” he whispered.

“
U―upstairs?” she croaked.

He nodded, unable to form words. He took his hands from her cheeks and trailed a slow path down her neck to rest on her shoulders, his sure lips meeting her unsteady ones. He applied slight pressure, moving his lips over and between hers. He pulled back an inch. “Kiss me back,” he murmured.

“
I―I―d-don’t know how,” she admitted.

“
Yes, you do.” He leaned forward to capture her lips again.

Beneath his, her lips hesitantly mirrored his movements, exerting pressure and moving over and between his. He parted his lips and drew her bottom lip into his mouth, gently nipping it with his teeth before soothing it with his tongue. Her sigh at his action hardened him instantly. Blood pounding in his ears, he ran his tongue along her bottom lip once more before dipping inside her mouth. She tasted of pears, sweet. His tongue swept the inside of her left cheek before sliding over her tongue.

Patrick barely registered the soft tap on the top of his shoes as her towel dropped. Her hands gripped his shoulders. Her tongue grew more daring, slipping into his mouth to explore. He reached up to hold the back of her head to keep her mouth firmly against his, his fingers digging into her thick curtain of wet hair. Her tongue parried with his, touched everywhere inside his mouth that his was touching in hers, driving him to distraction more with each flick and taste.

He pulled away, panting. “Will you come upstairs with me?”

She stood motionless, staring at him for what felt like an eternity, her kiss-swollen lips silently begging him to devour them again. He leaned forward to answer their call, and stopped when she nodded ever-so-slightly.

He swallowed convulsively as his brain attempted to scramble half a thought together. It was all he could do to remember to pluck her towel off the floor before scooping her up.

The walk to his room had never seemed so long. Never could he remember a time when he was so drawn to a woman, so intoxicated by her. Never.

With more grace than he knew he possessed, Patrick placed her on the bed, removed her spectacles, and then shut his door. Striving to control his lust, Patrick walked slowly back to the bed, his eyes feasting on the sight in front of him―countering his best efforts of lust control. He wanted her. There was no denying it now, he craved her like a man stranded in the desert craved a cool glass of water.

A knot of unease and panic formed in his chest. If memory served as an honest reminder, and usually it did, this might be the only time he’d get to enjoy Juliet this way. Best to take it slow, allow her time for any sort of enjoyment she might be able to experience before satisfying himself.

He looked down to where she lay atop his bed with only a small scrap of a towel covering her. “You’re beautiful,” he breathed, grabbing hold of the corner of her towel. Taking his time, he slid it down her body as slowly as he could, devouring every inch of her body with his eyes as he went. Letting the towel drop to the floor, Patrick took a step back and let his eyes do another thorough sweep of her naked body.

Her lower lip quivered and her hands clutched the counterpane, twisting. “Are you removing your clothes now?” she asked, biting her lip.

He blinked at her. Couldn’t she see he wasn’t removing his clothes? “No.”

“
Oh.” She blinked, her face flushing. “I just thought...”

“
You thought?”

“
Now that I was naked, you’d, you know.”

Yes, he did know. But he wanted to take his time, go slow. What was her rush? “Are you sure you wish to do this?” He had to ask. He
needed
to know.

“
Yes,” she answered quietly. “I’m sure. It’s just that...that...”

“
What? What is it?”

Juliet’s body shifted, her hands releasing the counterpane and coming up to cover her breasts and feminine curls in a way that hid next to nothing and only stirred his interest more. “I know I said before that I wasn’t overly modest, but I might have been slightly untruthful.” She lowered her lashes, the pale skin of her chest and neck flushing dark red. “Without my spectacles I cannot see you, but given the circumstances of what we’re about to do, I’d feel better at least knowing you were in the same state.”

Patrick’s heart twisted. Too caught up in his own need, he’d completely forgotten about her eyesight, or lack thereof. While he was a visual person by nature, she wasn’t. She’d need to touch and feel in order to “see” him. “I’m sorry, Juliet,” he rasped, his fingers working the buttons of his coat and waistcoat as fast as they could move. He pulled his shirt off and walked up to her. “Can you see me now?”

She nodded. “I can see that you’re here, but nothing more.”

“
Would you like to wear your spectacles?”

She shook her head. “I’d prefer not to. They’re really heavy. Besides, won’t they be in the way?”

“
A little, yes. But if you want them, I’ll get them for you.”

“
There’s no need. Just as long as I can feel.” A crimson blush colored her cheeks.

He reached his hand forward and took one of her hands that was currently doing a terrible job of shielding her breasts from him and pulled it forward, pressing it to his chest. Her trembling fingers sank into his thick mat of chest hair. “Touch me,” he commanded gently. “Touch me anywhere you’d like.” She started to pull her hand away, but he wouldn’t let her. Holding her wrist, he moved her hand down from his muscled chest to his firm stomach then up to his shoulders.

Juliet’s other hand abandoned its post of partially covering her triangle of light brown, springy curls and came up to join its mate in the exploration of his chest. To gain better access, she rose up on her knees and moved closer to him, seeming to abandoning all of her inhibitions at the same time. He smiled. This was the bold woman he’d married, the one who knew no fear or restraint. Her fingers traced the grooves next to his clavicle, then fanned out and moved downward over the muscles in his chest. The touch of her fingers was like the points of ten branding sticks. He groaned. Her inquisitive fingers were driving him mad.

Her fingertips moved lower still, taking time to explore every dip and indention between his ribs and muscles. She reached his waistband, and a slight frown bent her lips before she removed her hands.

Wordlessly, Patrick removed his boots and trousers. “Here,” he said huskily, guiding her petite hands to his hips. Juliet sank to a sitting position on the edge of the bed and had only the slightest hesitation before letting her hands leave the ridge of his hips to knead the sinewy flesh of his thighs. Her roaming hands sent sparks of desire and excitement shooting through him each time they came close to his erection. Would she be bold enough to explore him there? He nearly cursed and groaned at the same time. Yes. He had no doubt his Juliet would certainly be bold enough to do just that. And when she did, the groan he’d been so diligently suppressing could be contained no longer.

“
Did I hurt you?” The delicate hand she had wrapped around his shaft, loosening its grip.

“
No,” he choked. “Don’t stop.”

Her grip tightened again, her fingers massaging him in the most erotic way imaginable. She slid her hand down his shaft then back up, squeezing a fraction tighter as she went. Her thumb traced a slow line around the edge of his tip. “It’s both hard and soft.”