Love's Portrait (20 page)

His hands slid across her bare skin to where her gown hugged the edge of her shoulder. Beneath his touch, she trembled. Her mouth danced with his tongue for a moment longer before she broke away from his kiss. Agitation marked her movements as she hastily unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it out of his trousers with a sharp tug.

∫

The moment her hands touched the hot flesh of his chest, the desire building inside her belly rushed to the apex of her thighs in a taut explosion of fiery need. Eager to taste him, she pressed her mouth to his hard torso. Muscles rippled against her lips as he leaned back into the carriage’s leather cushions with a quiet groan.

The sound gave her a sense of power, and she loved knowing how much her touch pleased him. Slowly and methodically, she brushed his skin with kisses until her tongue flicked out to circle his nipple. Another low rumble echoed in his chest, the vibration teasing her lips as she savored the tangy taste of him.

Sweet heaven, she’d missed him. Missed this. It had been too long since she’d been in his arms. And she needed him. Wanted him inside her, filling her, throbbing against her tautness until they both caught fire and exploded at the same instant. Her senses swimming with heat and need, she nipped at the side of his neck with her teeth as her hand slid down to stroke the hard length of him pressing into her thigh.

He jumped as her touch. Through the material of his trousers, he was hot and harder than she remembered. He wanted her. Jubilant at the knowledge, she applied a gentle pressure to him, and he groaned deeply. Tonight, she was willing to give in to her passion. Tomorrow, she’d face the consequences of her actions.

Strong fingers captured her chin, and he took her mouth again in a mind-searing kiss. Lost to the sensations flooding her senses, her fingers spiked through his hair as she returned his kiss with all the passion exploding inside her. A warm hand stroked her bare throat down to the valley between her breasts.

A shudder sped through her as his hand glided down over her breast. Her rigid nipples scraped with agonizing sensitivity against her undergarments at the touch. Whimpering with the need for more, her fingers sought the buttons of his trousers as her hunger for him spiraled out of control. Desire flooded her body and touching him was all that mattered.

With a suddenness that jerked her out of her aroused state, Morgan’s large hands encircled her wrist like a vise and returned her to the seat opposite him. Her breathing ragged, she looked into his eyes in bewilderment. What was wrong with him? He’d provoked this intense encounter. Why had he pushed her away? The dark hunger in his eyes made her reach out to touch his cheek. He caught her wrist and pushed her hand aside with a harsh shake of his head.

“Not like this, Julia,” he rasped as he buttoned his shirt in an unsteady fashion.

“I…I don’t understand.” Bemused by his abrupt rejection, she shook her head. “You kissed me. I…thought you…”

“I do want you, Julia. I want you more than you know.” Shoving his shirt back into his trousers, he grimaced. “But you have to come to me of your own free will.”

“I just offered myself to you, and you reject me simply to demand that
I
come to
you
,” she said fiercely.

“You didn’t offer, Julia. You gave into desire.” His voice was implacable as he watched her with his narrowed gaze.

“I can assure you, St. Claire, if I had
not
wanted to be seduced, you would not have found me so willing,” she bit out through clenched teeth.

“And that’s the problem Julia. I want you to be with me by choice, not because I seduced you.” The sigh he released was one of great weariness, and her heart slammed against her chest at the sound. “If you care for me, you’ll come to me at a time of your choosing. Completely free of any enticement from me.”

“What you mean is that I have to bow to your will and beg you to take me into your bed.”

“No. I’m asking for more than that. I know how important your independence is to you, but I want to know you’re going to be there when I come home at night.”

“But you don’t have a home—you have rooms in a hotel,” she said with a sniff of derision.

“Not any longer. I’ve bought a house. A house that needs a woman’s touch. I want that woman to be you.”

The words echoed like gunfire inside the carriage. She wasn’t quite certain she’d heard him correctly, and yet she knew she had. For a long moment, she simply absorbed his news. He’d bought a house. Morgan St. Claire—confirmed bachelor, unmitigated womanizer—had bought a house.

He was up to something. She didn’t know what, but he was scheming to get his own way. First, he’d proposed marriage and now a house. There had to be some ulterior motive for his behavior. What did he want? Meeting his dark gaze from across the carriage, a tremor went through her. The open hunger and longing in his eyes did more than confuse her. It frightened her.

Dear God, could the man possibly be telling her the truth. The carriage rolled to a stop. In silence, they exited the vehicle and Morgan escorted her up the three steps to her front door. As her hand grasped the doorknob, a large hand covered hers.

“We’ll not see each other again unless you choose to be with me, Julia.” There was a grim tilt to his mouth. “Come to me. Don’t let that bastard you married win.”

Without waiting for a response, he left her standing on the front stoop and returned to his carriage. The finality in his voice made her throat close in fear. Would he really not see her again? Something told her this might be the last time she ever saw him. Inside a voice cried out for her to run after him, but she crushed the protest. No. She couldn’t agree to his terms. She would have to live without Morgan St. Claire—no matter how painful and difficult that would be.

Chapter 14

Julia passed through the main door of St. Claire Shipping, her gaze automatically flitting toward Morgan’s office door. Just as it had been for the past two weeks, the door stood open. It was a declaration that Morgan had not yet arrived.

Worrying her lip with her teeth, she walked slowly toward the small office she used. There was little need for her to even be here today. She’d finished reviewing all of Morgan’s accounting ledgers days ago, and there wasn’t much else for her to review. If she were honest with herself, the only reason she was in the shipping office was because she wanted to see Morgan.

She’d not seen him since the night he’d left her standing at her front door. When he’d left her, there had been such a finality in his demeanor. It had only been in the last week that she’d begun to realize that he’d been quite serious about not seeing her again. Her hand grasped the cool brass of the office doorknob, but she didn’t turn it. She stood there for a moment as if suspended in time.

Morgan was a good businessman. Surely, he wouldn’t stay away from the office for such a long time simply because he wanted to avoid her. Even if he were ill, she would have seen him here in the office. What if he had gone out of town on business? That would make sense. She whirled around and walked over to Morgan’s head clerk, Jeremy Crane.

“Mr. Crane, I was wondering if you could tell me where Mr. St. Claire is?”

“I’m not certain, Mrs. Westgard.” The clerk shook his head.

“Have you heard from him at all?”

“It seems he’s been working mostly at night, madam,” the clerk said with a slight frown. “He’s generally here when I arrive in the morning and leaves a short time afterward. Although I’ve not seen him for the past three mornings.”

“Working nights,” she gasped softly. He
was
avoiding her.

“He’s always kept odd hours, madam. Although, he didn’t look all that well the last time I saw him.” The man’s response made her stomach lurch. Had Morgan made himself unwell working through the night?

“When did you see him last?”

“Three days ago. He instructed me to send any paperwork needing his attention to this address until he returned.”

The clerk reached for a slip of paper resting on his desk and handed it to her. Morgan’s strong, elegant penmanship filled the sheet, and she stared at the address for a long moment. A desperate longing clutched at her heart. She needed to know he was all right. She trembled as she handed the paper back to the head shipping clerk.

“Thank you, Mr. Crane. If by chance Mr. St. Claire does come into the office today, would you please let him know that I’d like to speak with him.”

“Of course, Mrs. Westgard, of course.”

Nodding her head toward the clerk, she walked out of Morgan’s shipping office. The address Crane had shown her rolled about in her head. It was in the fashionable residential district. Could this be the house Morgan had bought? Had he simply been working at home for the past three days in an effort to avoid her or had he taken ill as Crane seemed to think?

She signaled for her carriage and gave her driver Morgan’s address before settling herself in the vehicle. It was most likely the worst mistake she could make, but she had to know nothing was wrong with him. Her head resting against the soft leather padding she stared out the window as the carriage rolled forward.

She should call out and tell Dobson to take her home. It would be the sane thing to do. Whether Morgan had been ill or not, her sudden appearance on his doorstep would have the man thinking she’d finally decided to come to him of her own free will. Julia winced. It was true, she was coming of her own accord, but it was merely to ensure Morgan was well. The lie made her throat swell shut.

Over the past two weeks, she’d been certain she could live without Morgan. She’d thought it would be easy to crush the love she had for him. Not only had she been mistaken. She’d been miserable too. Miserable without the sound of his voice or the sight of his face to brighten her day. And the longer she went without seeing him, the more she realized how much pleasure she found in his company.

A sigh parted her lips. Morgan had allowed her to win one battle after another, but he’d won the war between them from the moment of that first kiss in his rooms at the Clarendon. The carriage rolled to a halt, and she leaned forward to look out the window. He’d warned her that she would have to come to him on her own. Now, she was doing just that.

The thought made her wince as she studied the lovely stone façade of the residence she saw through the carriage window. Larger than the usual town home, the dwelling was impressive and yet inviting at the same time. The house Morgan had purchase was much larger than she’d envisioned.

She exited the vehicle and quickly climbed the steps to ring the bell. A moment later, the door opened without a squeak to reveal Mrs. Welkin’s pleasant countenance. Morgan had obviously convinced the hotel housekeeper to come manage his home. If he were ill, Mrs. Welkins knew exactly how to take care of him, and Julia had worried needlessly.

“Mrs. Westgard, how lovely to see you,” The housekeeper opened the door wide. “Won’t you come inside?”

Now that she was here, the uncertainty inside her grew. Morgan had no need of her if he was unwell. He would be well cared for by Mrs. Welkins. Then there was the scandalous nature of her visit. Although Julia wasn’t a debutante in danger of sullying her reputation, it was still scandalous for her to be calling on a man. Particularly a man of Morgan’s notoriety. It was the kind of behavior Oscar would have condemned with a malicious snub. The thought made Julia step impulsively into the large, empty foyer. As the housekeeper closed the front door, Mrs. Welkins gestured toward a closed door.

“Mr. St. Claire is in the study. I think he’ll be pleased to see you. I know he thinks quite highly of you.” Julia stiffened in surprise as she turned her head toward the older woman who smiled. “He’s not said anything, but I recognize the signs of a man in love.”

Heat filled Julia’s cheeks at the woman’s observation. Feeling more than a little uncomfortable, she hesitated. She ought to leave right now. Her brain immediately rejected the thought. Impossible. She didn’t want to go another day, not even another hour, without seeing him. With a nod at the housekeeper, she moved through the door into the study. Candles, and a small fire in the hearth, lit the room, while heavy maroon curtains covered the windows and blocked out the sunshine.

“Come in and shut the door, whoever you are.”

The deep harsh tone of Morgan’s voice scraped across her senses as she quickly carried out his command. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light as the door clicked closed behind her. It took her a few seconds to find Morgan. He was sitting in a large library chair a small distance from where she stood.

Long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles, he was the epitome of dangerous male beauty. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, and the white of his shirt was a sharp contrast to the deep wine leather of the chair. She took a step forward then stopped as Morgan’s eyes slowly opened. The air crackled between them as she saw him jerk in surprise before he narrowed his gaze at her.

“What are you doing here, Julia?” His voice was flat and devoid of emotion.

Swallowing her nervousness, she searched his darkened features. There was just enough firelight to reveal his profile, but his eyes were unreadable in the shadows. A tremor shot through her.

“I came…I came because I thought you were ill.”

“As you can see, I’m quite well.” The words were staccato beats in the thick air of tension filling the room.

“If you’re well, why do you have the drapes pulled and all the candles lit? Why aren’t you at the shipping office?

“Mrs. Welkins knows being in the dark helps me recover more quickly from a migraine.”

“So you have been unwell,” she exclaimed as she took another step toward him.

“I’m quite recovered.”

“I’m pleased to hear it,” she said with an enormous sense of relief. Silence filled the room, and she struggled not to fidget.

“I’ve been waiting for you.” There was a rough edge to his voice as he watched her from his seat. He didn’t move, but she could see the strained tautness of his body. “I’d just about given up hope.”