Love's Portrait (18 page)

“I’ve work to do, Julia.” He picked up the ledger she’d brought into the office and offered it to her. “I believe this is yours.”

Disappointment held her rigid as she stared at the green book and its red leather binding he held out to her. Last week he’d said he would give her time, but just now when she’d reached out to him, he’d pushed her away. An odd sensation spread its way into every inch of her, and it took her a moment to recognize it as sexual frustration.

What more did she have to do to make the man to realize she wanted him. And she did. She wanted him with an intensity that shook her to the very core. One emotion after another assaulted her until she was on the verge of throwing herself at his feet and pleading with him to take her back into his bed.

Frightened that he could arouse her to such a piteous state, she darted forward and snatched the ledger from his hand. Whirling away from Morgan, she marched toward the door only to pause as he cleared his throat. Her hand on the brass doorknob, she turned her head to look at him. Morgan’s expression was unreadable as he studied her.

“The next time you want to be kissed, Julia, don’t expect me to read your mind,” he said in a resolute tone of voice. “Ask.”

He
had
known she wanted him, but he expected her to beg for his touch. He wanted her complete surrender. For the briefest of moments, she considered doing exactly that before she pulled herself back from the edge of insanity. Furious that she’d even contemplated giving in to his demand, she glared at him.

“And the next time you want to kiss
me
, Morgan St. Claire,
you’ll
be the one begging to do so.” Triumph made her tilt her head at a haughty angle as she saw surprise cross his face. Unwilling to give him a chance to respond, she tugged the door open and slammed the door closed behind her. For a moment, she stood outside his office, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and excitement.

Once again, she’d stood her ground with Morgan, and a small piece of her that Oscar had tried to destroy bloomed to life. It felt wonderful. Even if she couldn’t allow herself to give in to her feelings for Morgan, their brief liaison had bolstered her confidence in a way she’d never imagined. A loud oath echoed through the door behind her, and like a mouse avoiding a trap, she hurried back to her small office. It was unlikely she’d be able to defy him again so soon after their most recent exchange. She needed time to gather her courage. If she were to face him now she was quite apt to give way. And doing that would mean her heart wouldn’t be the only thing lost to her. She would lose her soul as well.

Chapter 13

“Bloody hell,” Morgan snarled.

Slowly sinking down into his large office chair, he reclined back against the leather padding, and closed his eyes. One hand rubbing the side of his head, he fought to control the familiar pangs of another headache.

Damn Beresford! If the man hadn’t been his biggest investor, Morgan would have refused to attend the dinner the Colonel was arranging. The bastard had been trying for months to have a larger say in the running of St. Claire Shipping, and this was one more attempt to back Morgan into a corner. Unfortunately, it would be another year before he’d be in a financial position to buy the man out. But the day was coming, and Morgan looked forward to it. He groaned.

He should have known Julia would question him about the dinner. If he’d been thinking straight where she was concerned, he would have told her about Beresford and the party as soon as the Colonel had mentioned it was in the works. Instead, he’d done the one thing he should never have done with her. He’d taken away her ability to make her own decision.

In speaking for Julia, he’d put her on the defensive. It had been a foolhardy thing to do, but there wasn’t a chance in hell that he’d let her attend that party. God knew what might have happened if the Colonel hadn’t mentioned he’d invited several of Madame Evelyn’s most popular ladies to attend the dinner. Beresford had been more than open about his interest in Julia, and despite his warnings, the Colonel clearly remained undaunted. And the way things stood between him and Julia, Morgan had no doubt Beresford would try and find a way to take advantage of the situation.

Morgan heaved a sigh at the thought. It had been evident that Julia hadn’t even suspected that Beresford was interested in her. The expression on her face had made that quite clear. If he’d handled things differently, Beresford wouldn’t be a problem at all where Julia was concerned. But it was a problem, and despite his best efforts, he continued to make mistakes where she was concerned.

For the past week, it had been difficult as hell to keep his distance from her. With the exception of passing her in the office, he’d not seen her since the theater. And her presence in his office just now had pushed the reserves of his willpower to the edge. It was only by a miracle that he’d been able to walk away from her when she closed her eyes and literally begged him in silence to kiss her. His cock twisted angrily in his trousers as he uttered a quiet oath. God he wanted her. Needed her. Loved her.

But none of that mattered if she didn’t come to him freely and of her own accord. She had to choose to be with him if there was to be any real happiness for them. Keeping his distance for the past week had been born out of self-preservation. That night at the Lyceum, he’d wanted to carry her out of the theater despite her protests. Held in the grip of such powerful emotions, he knew he needed to stay away from her to prevent himself from doing something rash.

He’d never even considered the idea that his avoidance of her might encourage her to come to him of her own free will. But it seemed to have had the desired effect. It was the only explanation for her behavior a few moments ago. She was only just beginning to realize she wanted him. The question was whether she’d act on that impulse. Her behavior suggested she might, but if she didn’t do it soon, he was going to go mad.

When he’d pulled her into his arms, she’d smelled delicious enough to devour. Pushing her away and acting nonchalant about doing so had been a supreme effort he wouldn’t be able to repeat on a regular basis. He’d barely been able to resist her this time.

The woman had no idea what she’d done to him when she’d offered up her mouth for him to kiss. His entire body had been in agony as he’d walked away from her tempting offer. He’d been ready to take her here in his office, in broad daylight, where anyone could have interrupted them. Morgan groaned at the image knowing full well that as pleasurable as making love to her would be, he didn’t just want her body. He wanted her love. Moments ago, she’d demonstrated her desire for him, but did her feelings run deeper? For his sanity, he had to believe she did. Anything less, would put him in a permanent state of hell.

∫

Morgan walked from the entryway of the town house into the empty parlor. The fireplace was cold and empty, but it was easy to see how it would warm the room when there was a fire burning merrily in the hearth. More importantly, the room itself was bright and airy. He moved across the floor into the hallway.

“You’ll find the house reasonably priced, Mr. St. Claire, a veritable bargain. The last owner outgrew the place, but there are plenty of bedrooms and a nursery as well. Not to mention the servants quarters on the third floor.”

The solicitor gestured toward the flight of stairs leading to the second floor. Morgan nodded and climbed the steps with the man following him. The master bedroom was quite large, and he was pleased to find a sizeable dressing room adjoining it. Small and dimly lit, the room would make an excellent place for him to retreat during a migraine attack.

Leaving the bedroom, he took his time viewing the rest of the floor. The last room he came to was the nursery. Warm and cozy, it spoke of a childhood he had always wished for, but had never known. The happy ambiance to the room was in direct opposition to what he remembered of his childhood. He turned to the man waiting at the door.

“Draw up the papers for the sale and send them to me at the Clarendon. I’d like to take ownership by the end of the week.”

“Certainly, sir. And will you require assistance securing furniture?”

“Yes, but only the necessities for the time being.” He glanced around the nursery. He wanted Julia to have the pleasure of decorating the house. It would be one more way of showing her how much her happiness meant to him—how he had no wish to crush her spirit or her sense of self.

Satisfied with his purchase, he left the house and strode down the steps to his carriage. Instructing his driver to return to the office, he climbed into the vehicle and settled back in the leather seat. Despite his pleasure at having found the ideal house, it had been an unsettling experience. Never having had the responsibility of a household, the notion of a permanent residence had proven more disturbing than he’d expected. Now that it was a
fait accompli
, he acknowledged the process had been a cleansing in some respects.

While it wasn’t a home yet, it was a start. All that was required now was to convince Julia that his reasons for refusing Beresford on her behalf had been solely to protect her. Making her believe his intentions were well meant would be easy compared to the challenge of convincing her to marry him.

Her resistance to the idea wouldn’t be easy to overcome. And after the incident in his office yesterday, he wasn’t certain what to expect when he saw her next. The carriage rocked to a halt, and he stepped out of the vehicle. He’d taken two steps forward when, a firm hand settled on his shoulder.

“St. Claire.” The simple greeting made Morgan turn his head then smile with pleasure at the sight of the man facing him.

“
Devlyn
. What the devil are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” the other man said as he shook Morgan’s hand warmly. “I’ve an investment opportunity I thought might interest you.”

“If it’s one of your ideas, I’m certain it’ll be quite profitable. That deal we brokered in America almost ten years ago is
still
generating revenue.”

Morgan opened the door to St. Claire Shipping’s main building and ushered his friend into the quiet hum of his business. Once they entered his private office, Morgan gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk before seating himself behind the large piece of furniture to study the man opposite him.

“Marriage agrees with you.”

A grin of satisfaction on his face, Devlyn nodded. “Quite. Sophie is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“And where is the Countess?” Morgan reached out and offered his friend a cigar from the rosewood humidor on his desk.

“Thank you, no.” Devlyn dismissed the tobacco with a wave of his hand. “Actually, Sophie and the children are getting settled in our new home over on Curzon Street. It’s actually the first reason why I called on you. We want you to come for dinner Friday evening.”

“I wouldn’t miss it. What time—” A quiet knock made him send Devlyn an apologetic glance. “Come in.”

The moment Julia entered the room Morgan’s body tensed with the now familiar sensation of need that gripped him whenever she was near. It reflected a depth of emotion he’d never experienced until he’d met her. Until Julia had entered his life, Morgan had never understood what other men saw in the state of matrimony. He’d certainly never thought
he’d
be so eager to enter into such an arrangement. The permanency and restrictive nature of marriage had made him determined never to succumb to the idea, but Julia had persuaded him otherwise.

“Morgan, I wish to speak with you about this business dinner. I think—”

“I’m afraid it will have to wait, Julia,” he said smoothly. She opened her mouth to argue then stopped as Devlyn rose to his feet.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were busy. I can come back at a later time.”

“Allow me to introduce my friend, Lord Devlyn. Devlyn, this is Mrs. Westgard.”

Morgan watched in silence as she extended her hand to Devlyn. No one else watching her would ever have noticed the fine line of tension in her body. He’d always thought it part of her reserved manner, but he understood differently now. As Devlyn brushed his mouth over Julia’s fingertips, a knot of unpleasant jealousy twisted his insides as the charm in his friend’s smile. If Morgan hadn’t known Devlyn was madly in love with his wife, he’d be stepping forward to put himself in front of Julia.

“Your husband is a fortunate man, Mrs. Westgard.”

Delyn’s words made Julia stiffen, and she immediately retreated behind that now familiar cool and distant façade she wore when feeling threatened. All too aware of her discomfort, Morgan cleared his throat.

“Julia is a widow, Devlyn.” His friend turned his head to eye Morgan with surprise, and his jaw locked with tension under his friend’s assessing gaze. “She’s also one of my investors.”

“Indeed.” The one word echoed with a dozen unasked questions, and Devlyn turned back to Julia. “Tell me Mrs. Westgard, what the devil possessed you to invest in this notorious rake’s company?”

“At the moment, I’m not exactly sure.” Julia shot Morgan a glance of exasperation. “If I’d know precisely how autocratic the man could be, I think I would have thought twice about buying an interest in St. Clair Shipping.”

Her words made Devlyn laugh loudly. The unexpected sound reverberated in the office, and Morgan saw Julia start with surprise. Devlyn shook his head as he eyed Morgan with great amusement.

“Is it possible there’s one woman in the world that
hasn’t
fallen under your spell, Morgan?” his friend joked.

“Julia’s irritated with me because I refused an invitation on her behalf.”

“I see,” Devlyn sent Morgan a look of incredulity. “Sophie would have my head if I tried to do that.”

“Beresford was the one extending the invitation.” Morgan clasped his hands behind his back and experienced a surge of satisfaction as Delyn’s face darkened with disgust. At least one person in the room thought his actions were justified.