His For The Taking (3 page)

Grandmother kissed her cheek.
"Let us go to London this day,
if for nothing more than to put some distance between you and this
sorrow."

Julianna buried her face in the
soft, warm vanilla scent of her grandmother's hair. "But shouldn’t I at
least say goodbye to him?"

Grandmother let out a sigh, her
small frame practically deflating beneath her embrace. "Why? He has made
his lack of intentions known. He doesn’t want you. If you go rushing to Denbigh
Hall to say farewell, he will not only know where you’re going but that you
have no respect for yourself, or for my wishes."

Juliana released her hold and gazed
into her grandmother’s silvery eyes. "Of course I respect your wishes. But
I need to say goodbye."

"No you don’t. Just as he has
so willingly done, you too must end this friendship, or love affair or whatever
it is you wish to call it." She smoothed a strand of hair from Julianna’s
forehead, the gesture so gentle and loving that Julianna knew she couldn’t
disobey her. "And the next time you do happen upon him, which you know you
will, I entreat you, do not allow him back as your unconditional friend. For if
you do, he will continue to take advantage and you will never have the life you
want or need."

Julianna allowed her tears to flow
freely. "Perhaps a trip to London
will ease the ache in my heart."

Grandmother kissed her cheek.
"That’s my sweet girl. And remember, you are a Chesterfield,
that in itself is deserving of more."

***

Jonathan urged Arion forward, the
stallion groaning at the sharp knock of his master’s boot heels against his
ribs. Of course the animal wasn’t in a hurry to go anywhere, having been
deprived of his breakfast and morning apple.

"Move your blasted arse,"
he grumbled. Arion blew out an impatient breath and increased his pace from
cantor to full gallop.

"Thank you," Jonathan
shouted and tapped the bay on the neck. "Atta lad!"

Oh but the wind felt good against
his unshaven face. He knew he must look a wreck but damn it all, sleep had
evaded him. Food didn’t interest him. All he wanted was to confront Julianna.
To reclaim his friendship and end the silliness of the night before.

Surely, Lady Chesterfield’s claims
were wrong. There was no way on earth that Julianna could love him. Not in a
romantic sense. It was absurd. Ridiculous. More than likely brought on by too
much champagne or perhaps a bout of senility on the old girls part.

Still, he had to see Julianna, for
despite his suspicions, he knew he wouldn’t rest until the foolishness had
ended and he had recouped his life. For without Julianna to discuss things he’d
be doomed to listening to the postulating of his friends or worse the silly
prattle of some conquest he had yet to come upon. She was the constant in his
life and he liked it that way. And despite his admiration for Lady
Chesterfield, until he heard Julianna tell him their relationship was over
unless they wed, he simply wouldn’t skulk away like a whipped dog. He had his
pride, after all.

Dashing across the stream that
divided the Denbigh and Chesterfield Estates, he slowed Arion to a cantor. The
sight of Oak Park sprawled out
before him and melancholy spread over him like a wet cloak. Julianna was behind
those thick stone walls, reeling either from his lack of a declaration or more
than likely the stupidity of her grandmother’s misguided observations.

Slowing Arion even more, he raked
his fingers through the horse’s wild mane, the idea of seeing his best friend
suddenly leaving him with stones deep in his gut. Was he nervous?

"No!" he very nearly
shouted. He wasn’t nervous. He didn’t get nervous when he was chasing a skirt
across a ballroom and by God, he didn’t get nervous when he called on Julianna.
"Damn it," he muttered. Clenching his jaw, he tapped Arion’s sides
and the horse sped up. He would put an end to this nonsense once and for all.

***

Julianna walked the path, the soft purple
rhododendron blooms leaving her heart to ache. For when she returned to Oak
Park, they would be gone, the camellias would be
finished, the azaleas done for another year. She would miss her favorite
season, trapped in the Whitcomb’s townhouse, surrounded by Constance’s
things and not her own.

But she would enjoy them now and
she plucked a purple bloom and studied it, still walking. Still trying to enjoy
the moment despite the ache in her heart.

As she turned the narrow cobbled
path that led deeper into the back garden and toward the orchard, she heard the
soft thud of hooves on the packed earth of the drive just beyond the garden
wall. Looking up from her blossom, her heart lurched. For just beyond the stone
fence, atop his dark stallion was Jonathan, the sun glinting off his dark
blonde curls.

Her breath caught in her throat at
the sight before. There was no joy in his countenance. His intense gaze pierced
hers and sent her heart in to a spasm of rapid beats. Dear Lord, what did he
want? Anxiety skittered across her skin and left her feeling light headed.

Still, she lifted her chin and
refused to look away. If he had something to say, he had better say it.
You're a
Chesterfield
. That in itself has you deserving more…

Her grandmother's words encouraged
her and she held onto the quaking pride with all the strength she could. It was
now or never for them. It was time to move forward…together or apart.

In a swift motion Jonathan jumped
from Arion's back and over the fence. Her heart fluttered again. My but he was
as graceful as a lynx.

"What are you doing
here?" she asked, cursing herself for the quiver in her voice. "You
said all you needed to say last night."

He didn't respond, just kept coming
toward her, his shoulders squared, his gaze unwavering. She recognized that
look. One that promised determination and a stubbornness that rivaled the
barnyard's most obstinate mule.

"Why are you here?" she
asked, taking a step back, her body colliding painfully with a Pipperidge bush.
He came ever closer, a stealthy cat ready to pounce.

And still she stood there, wanting
him to touch her, needing him to erase the pain his indifference had caused.

Now upon her, he set his hands on
her shoulders and pulled her to him, his mouth crushing hers as he drew her
into a strong, heady embrace.

She yielded to his kiss, her mind
spinning, all her senses sparking to life. She pressed herself against him, her
hands upon his chest, her finger curling in the fabric of his jacket.

What was happening to her? Never in
her life had she expected his kiss to send flames licking through her body. Her
core tightened into an aching knot.

God knew she should push him away.
She should slap his face and yet she opened her mouth wider to receive his
probing tongue. More, damn him, she wanted more. Needed all of him.
A low, deep groan slipped from her throat and
she slid her hands up, up and around his neck, her fingers entwining the soft
curls that brushed his collar.

His hands traced the length of her
spine, urging her ever closer.

She felt her self falling, sinking
into him, losing herself in the kiss she never believed would happen, but he
pushed her away. With her vision still shrouded with lust, she looked in to his
eyes, they were darker than she had ever seen them before. His broad chest rose
and fell, his mouth a thin, angry line. "You see, we are nothing but
friends."

There was a cold, callousness to
his words and an iciness in his stare. "If you felt nothing, then you are
right." Her heart threatened to burst but what shred of pride she had left,
refused to give way. Lifting her hand she landed a heavy blow to his cheek, her
fingers stinging as she pulled away. The look on his face one of utter shock,
his mouth agape, his eyes alive with anger. "Now leave and don't come
back." Tears blinded her. "And consider our bond of friendship
dissolved. You are a cruel man."

Finally, her tears lost their
battle with gravity and streamed down her cheeks.

"You can't mean that what your
grandmother said is true." He sneered. "Surely, you're not in love
with me."

"I said leave." She
turned her back on him, shame and humiliation spiraled upward from the pit of
her stomach. "I have nothing to say to you."

"Julianna—"

"If I ever loved you, I no
longer do. You are not the man I believed you to be." She felt sick to her
stomach, her entire body quaking with disappointment.

"I'm sorry, I
thought…Damnation, I don't know what I thought!"

Lifting her skirts, Julianna rushed
into the house leaving Jonathan behind. She didn't look back. She would never
look back, it hurt too much. She determined with the slamming of the door, that
he had most assuredly kissed her goodbye.

Chapter Three

"Oh look Julianna!"
Grandmother positively glowed. Her eyes glistened with excitement. London,
certainly did agree with the sweet old thing. "Not one but two
invitations!" She held up the folded cards as she rushed forward, barely
using her cane for support.

Julianna sat up from her button
back chair, and set her sewing on the small table at her side. "Who are
they from?" she asked, trying to rouse some enthusiasm from her despaired
soul.

"One is from Lady Manchester.
She's having a ball this very weekend! She apologizes for the short notice but
she's been planning it for months and only learned this day that we were
visiting London. Did you pack your
rose gown? That so compliments your lovely skin."

"Yes, Grandmother,"
Julianna replied. "You told me to, remember?"

"And I'll chaperone. Do you
suppose it would be scandalous if I wore my green gown? I am a widow, God rest Chesterfield's
soul."

"It's hardly scarlet."
Julianna smiled. It was good to see her grandmother so happy. With any luck a
bit of that happiness would rub off on her.

"Yes, and Nancy
will put combs in your hair and feathers?" Grandmother smoothed Julianna's
cheek. "No, not feathers but pearls. Yes, pearls in your glorious
hair."

"Who is the other invitation
from?"

She drew back and lifted the card.
"Oh yes. That is for a small gathering this evening at Lord and Lady
Nesbitt's home." Grandmother's eyes took on a distant gaze. "I
suppose Bennett will be there."

Julianna took hold of the card and
examined the fine penmanship. "You’ve seldom visited with friends since
you began caring for Abby and me and now you wish to spend more time with the
Nesbitts?" She eyed her grandmother knowingly. She was almost content to
come to London, but she wasn’t at
all certain of this Bennett business.

"That’s because,"
Grandmother said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "You and Abby keep me
very busy. But you must realize, I have known Lady Nesbitt since I was but a
girl."

Julianna smiled. It seemed strange
to envision Grandmother as a debutante. But looking at her now, she could see
from the beauty that lingered, she had indeed been something to behold.

"Who else will be in
attendance?"

"Bennett of course, his sister
Jane, and a few others. I believe there will be games and singing. I'm sure a
good time will be had by all."

"Well most everyone,
anyway." The words were out before she could prevent them. She cursed her
dourness, cursed herself for ruining Grandmother’s fun.

Grandmother sat on the edge of the
burgundy settee, her lips pursed. "You will as well. Maybe not this time,
but it's good practice until you begin to heal. It will be a very intimate
affair. It's perfect really. And Jane is just a little older than you. By all
accounts she’s a very fine girl. And you do realize that Bennett is one of the
most eligible bachelors in all of England."

Julianna shifted in her chair.
"I'm not ready for all of this. I'm not over Jonathan."

"Oh child," Grandmother
scolded. "To Hades with Jonathan Denbigh. I am certain that if he hasn't
realized his loss yet, he will be mourning it very soon. However, if he
doesn’t, you must move forward with your life and I can think of no one more
suitable than Bennett Nesbitt."

***

Jonathan stood at the door of Oak
Park, pacing back and forth wondering if he dared knock or if he should give
the flowers he clutched tight in his fist to the next maid that walked by.
After all, only two days had past. But those were two days without a word from
Julianna. He realized immediately that his actions had been ridiculous and
judging by her reaction, painful.

Still, could her feelings for him
really have been so strong? How had he not seen it before? And despite the kiss
that had him wanting to take her virtue on the garden path, he had too much
pride and too much respect for the friendship to let the lusty beast he felt
himself becoming loose. Blast her supple lips and soft curves and blast his
body for reacting to them.

But regardless, he had to at least
try to salvage what they had whether or not he wanted to pursue more. He was,
after all, an intelligent man and he knew that if he lost Julianna he would
surely miss her.

She gave sound advice in matters of
business. Had often read over his contracts after his solicitor and found
errors that could have cost him hundreds of pounds.

She sat back on that pale yellow
settee, her sewing in her hands as he railed against this problem or that.
Merely listening and allowing him to relieve his anger.

She was an excellent dance partner,
saving him from the drudgery of waltzing with daft chits with nothing but
marriage on their minds.

He squeezed tight to the flower’s
stems. But hadn’t Lady Chesterfield pushed Julianna toward him, insisting on
all or nothing? Wasn't he guilty of pushing her too? To admit she loved him or
let go of the notion? He set his fingers to his lips. The memory or her mouth
against his and his mood lightened. She did taste good, her tender lips, her
soft moan. Damn her for ripping his oblivion away. Until he kissed her, he had
been only half aware of her beauty, only partially aware of how wonderful she
smelled. Damn, damn, damn, was he actually becoming aroused at the thought of
her leaning into him, her cool fingertips woven into his hair?