Twice Upon a Time (A Danby Family Novella) (5 page)

“Oh!” She made a feeble effort to free her arm, but her feet carried her over the threshold. “I did apologize, did I not? For your—” her gaze dropped lower— “you know.”

“Could we please cease discussion of my
you know
? He is beginning to think you like him.”

Felicity had an insane urge to point out they had never been properly introduced, but her words would be viewed as an invitation to bed her. “Really, I should go, Mr. Beckford.”

“Call me Julian.” He pushed the door closed with his bare foot. “Seeing as how you are responsible for my inability to sleep, you could at least extend the courtesy of keeping me company while I’m awake.”

Company implied companionship, and her presence in a gentleman’s room dressed in nothing but her nightrail could only be construed as consent to—
 

Yes, seeking out Mr. Beckford was a colossal mistake. She had thought to request he switch places with her, but how foolish she was.
 

The absurdity of guarding her innocence as if it were a precious possession was not lost on her. Saving herself for marriage was no longer necessary, but she was well aware of what a careless moment could reap. There were enough lives dependent on her. She wouldn’t bring one more into the world.

His hand slipped around her waist, his fingers wrapping around her hip to anchor her against him.
 

Felicity shivered. “I could mix a sleeping tonic if it pleases you, sir.”

He guided her toward the bed. “You appear as if you are already under the influence of a tonic. Are you certain you are not sleepwalking?”

“Fairly certain.” Every inch of her vibrated with awareness. She was not sleeping. Her arms and legs were heavy, however, and her eyes stung as if fine grains of salt had been flung into them. She wasn’t simply fatigued, she was dead tired, and Mr. Beckford’s bed did look inviting.
 

He paused and turned her to face him before easing the blanket from her head and shoulders. Her breath caught. His nearness interrupted even the most basic function of human existence.
 

He tossed the blanket across the foot of the bed then folded the covers aside to make room for her. “I would venture you are unaccustomed to travel.”

She nodded, entranced by his softly spoken words. “There haven’t been many opportunities to go on holiday.”

Grabbing her by the shoulders, he gently pushed her down to sit on the bed then bent to capture her ankle. The warmth of his fingers imprinted her skin and sent tingles dancing up her leg. Felicity tried to jerk her foot away, but he held firm and removed her slipper. He repeated the same motions with her other foot.

“We have another long day ahead of us tomorrow, Miss Halliday.”
 

Felicity was less concerned about the morrow than the night stretching out before her into infinity.
 

“Get some sleep.” He snatched up the blanket that had slid halfway off the bed and moved toward the chair.
 

“What are you doing?”

He lowered his lean frame onto the wooden seat and tucked the blanket up under his chin. “I am going to bed, Miss Halliday. I advise you to do the same.”

“You can’t sleep there.”

His golden brow arched. “I can and I will. Now, extinguish the candle and hold your tongue.”

Felicity felt her nostrils flare on a huff. How easily she had forgotten Mr. Beckford’s origins, but his imperial tone reminded her of his superior lineage. She held back a retort.
 

Blowing out the candle, she stretched out on her back. The quiet rang loudly in her ears, every noise amplified in the dark. The rasp of sheets against her nightrail as she covered herself. The creak of wood and soft groan from Mr. Beckford as he adjusted his position.
 

Her fingers curled into the sheets. She would rather listen to Lord Penlow’s thunderous snoring than the crackle of tension on the air.

Come, share the bed.
The words bubbled up inside her, but she swallowed them. She couldn’t sleep beside Mr. Beckford. It wasn’t done. Her heart thumped heavily until she swore the bed shimmied with each beat.

She squeezed her eyes together and bit down on her tongue.
 

He shifted in the chair again, the wood protesting his weight with a sharp crack.

“Oh, for the love of Pete, Mr. Beckford—”

“Julian.”

“
Julian
.” She drew in a deep breath. His name sounded foreign when she spoke it. It filled her with longing. “Please, share the bed with me. You will not be able to walk come morning otherwise.”

~*~

Julian held perfectly still, debating the wisdom of honoring her request. Come morning, the lovely Miss Halliday might be the one unable to walk if he climbed into bed with her. He didn’t trust himself with her in reach. Even across the chamber, he struggled with the temptation to ravish her. He wanted to kiss her lush mouth, caress her soft curves, lose himself deep inside her.
 

“I don’t think it would be prudent.” His voice assumed a husky quality.
 

Although she didn’t truly belong to Pen, his cousin had staked a claim. Julian wouldn’t make a cuckold of him, even if the marriage was pretend. If he were wise, he would send her back rather than risk upsetting Pen.

The sound of the mattress dipping and her feet padding across the chamber caught his attention. “If you will not share the bed, I will return to Lord Penlow’s room. My conscience won’t allow me to relegate you to such uncomfortable accommodations.”

Julian flung the blanket aside and leapt to his feet. “Wait!”

The door cracked open and stalled. “What is it, sir?”

Dear Lord, he was as fickle as the wind, but Pen could sod off.

“We will work out an arrangement,” he said. “Close the door and come back to bed.”

“Only if
you
will.” Her determination nearly undid him. To have a beautiful woman demanding he climb into bed with her was arousing in the extreme.

“As you wish.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to keep his control intact. “But I warn you. If you so much as drift across to my side, I cannot be held responsible for abandoning my manners.”

“I won’t drift, Julian. I promise.”

Damnation.
Why had he issued such a stern warning? “Very well. Get under the covers and stay there. I’ll sleep on top of the counterpane.”

With the lady tucked into bed, Julian climbed in and turned his back to her. “Good night Miss Halliday.”

“My name is Felicity. You have my permission to address me as such.”

Julian rammed his fingers in his hair and pulled. The dull pain was only mildly distracting. “Stop talking,” he bit out.
 

She huffed and jostled the bed as she rolled away from him. She said nothing else, but it seemed like an eternity before her breathing evened out, and she surrendered to sleep.

Julian was not as lucky. He slept in borrowed snatches of time, his awareness of her heated body next to his barely fading within the moments of unconsciousness. When the gray morning light filtered through the window, he was awake again. His gaze rested on her peaceful face. Her honeyed lashes fanned against ivory skin, and her lips turned up in a diminutive smile, reminiscent of the Mona Lisa, accommodating even in slumber. It was as if he had looked upon her face a thousand times.
 

A forgotten memory nagged at him. Felicity with her head resting on her forearm, hunched over the side of a bed, her burnished locks falling down around her pink cheeks.
 

The still room.
 

A frail hand in hers, so weak, seeking comfort.
 

Felicity’s eyes, large with compassion.
 

The images rushed him at once. Aunt Alice’s illness, the sights and sounds he thought he had banished forever. There had been but one glowing beacon during those dark days five years ago. A kindred spirit had laid her hand upon his shoulder and shared his sorrow as the woman who had been like a mother to him faded a little each day until she was no more.

Felicity was Aunt Alice’s angel.

A surge of tenderness flooded through his heart. He reached out to push a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes fluttered open and her brow creased in confusion for a moment until her gaze found his and recognition sparked in her amber depths.

“Felicity,” he murmured. “Dr. Halliday’s daughter. Aunt Alice’s nursemaid. Whatever has happened to you, my darling?”

~8~

THE rawness reflected in Julian’s voice and expression ignited a burning in the back of Felicity’s throat. His caring touch fractured the wall erected between her mind and heart. She was practical.
Always
. Rational thought was the framework that kept her on her feet rather than broken on the floor, a quivering puddle of emotions.
 

Tears were Meredith’s domain. She was young and her tenuous sentiments were therefore forgivable. Not so for Felicity. Her sister shed tears for both of them, while she did everything she could to save Meredith and Mama from further pain.
 

She swiped at the damning wetness falling from the corner of her eyes, her hand shaking. “I should return to Lord Penlow’s room before he wakes.”

She tried to roll away, but Julian’s hand on her shoulder stopped her escape.

“Something has happened to your father, hasn’t it? He would never allow you to...”

Pressing her lips tightly together to hold back a sob, she nodded.
 

“Sweet girl, come here.”

Felicity surrendered and turned in to his embrace. She buried her face against his neck, the rough shadow of his whiskers chafing her skin. She didn’t care. His strength held her together on the inside while his arms held her securely against him. She dissolved against his chest, her will to fight the injustices of life taking a much needed rest. For this fleeting moment, she wanted to be taken care of by another person.

No, not just anyone. She desired Julian’s comfort. He centered her and absorbed her worries. In the shelter of his arms, she didn’t feel so alone.

He whispered soothing words, kissed her temple, her hair, her forehead. She lifted her face, wishing for the feel of his lips on hers. Her fingers threaded into his silky hair and urged his head down. Julian’s mouth skimmed hers, gently at first then with more insistence when she leaned into his kiss.

A deep moan rumbled in his chest beneath her fingers. He rolled her to her back and settled over her. His hard length pressed against her low belly. The coverlet entrapped her and she struggled to remove the barrier that kept them apart.

“I want…”

Julian’s tongue eased between her parted lips. She opened on a breath and welcomed his heated mouth. Lightheaded and crazed, she greedily drank in his kisses. Her thoughts evaporated almost the moment they were born.
 

I should not...

I cannot...

Dear God, I must stop.

He pulled back, breaking their contact. “Felicity?” His voice was hoarse and uncertain.

Their surroundings began to take shape as her head cleared. She was pushing against him while her fingers fisted in the fabric of his shirt. Even her body was conflicted in the moment. Yet, she could not allow him to bed her. The risk was too great.

She stared into his stunning blue eyes and opened her mouth to speak.

A door slammed in the corridor, startling them both. Moments later Julian’s chamber door flew open and banged against the wall.
 

“The girl is missing!” Lord Penlow barged into the room in half-dress with his hair sticking up at odd angles. “She was there when I fell asleep and now she is—”

He skidded to a stop and his gaze froze on the bed.
 

Blast! This looks damning, indeed.

A lazy smirk eased across Lord Penlow’s lips. “I see you have located her, Jul. I will call off the hounds.”

Julian climbed from the bed and ran a hand through his tousled curls. “It’s not what you think.”

The baron’s eyebrow lifted. “You are
not
engaged in a rousing game of chess then?”
 

“I was—We were just—” Julian snatched a pillow from the bed and whacked Lord Penlow. “Why didn’t you knock?”

The baron hooted with laughter as his cousin chased him across the room, connecting a few solid hits in the process. “I care not what you do with the wench so long as I have not lost her.”

“She is not a wench,” Julian said on a growl and swung the pillow once more.

Lord Penlow blocked the blow and wrestled the pillow from his hands. “Very well. Call her what you like.”

Felicity propped against the iron headboard and tucked the blanket under her chin.

“Miss Halliday was Aunt Alice’s nurse,” Julian said. “The one I told you about.”

Her heart skipped, clumsily tumbling until it recovered and took off in a sprint. Julian had spoken of her?

Lord Penlow’s merriment ebbed, and he moved closer to the bed to study her. “The angel?”

“Please, don’t call me that,” she said. “I am no angel.”

He snickered. “Indeed, Miss Halliday. I would hardly confuse you for one at the moment. Nevertheless, reports of your kindness to our dear aunt did not go unappreciated. Uncle was beside himself, but you eased his mind.”

He moved to the chair Julian had begun the night in and lowered onto it. “What were you doing in an alley? Your father would never approve of such recklessness.”

“Dr. Halliday has passed.” Julian approached the bed and sat on the edge, reaching out to hold her hand. He looked to her to confirm his speculation.

“He suffered a fall three years ago after being summoned to the bed of a sick child. He shattered a vertebra and was gone in an instant.” Felicity recited the facts quickly, not allowing her mind to travel back to that devastating day.

Lord Penlow nodded thoughtfully, perhaps sympathetically. “You do realize I cannot take you to Danby Castle now.”

Her heart leapt into her throat. “Why not? I have already risked so much. It cannot be for naught. My mother and sister—We need the money you promised.”