Page 41 of His Scandalous Viscountess
“Now that we have solved the mystery as to how Ros ended up in the clutches of the dastardly Lord Wallthorpe, I have another matter I wish to address.”
“Oh?”
He looked at her, but with the shadows sliding around them, her expressive face was shielded. Then he backed her against the wall at the far end of the stone patio and pressed against her. “I have come to realize that your gown is bordering on indecent.”
She gasped. “You are no judge of women’s fashion.”
“True, I am not. However, I am an excellent judge of the potential for a lady’s assets to be unintentionally displayed.” He reached out and traced the edge of her neckline with a fingertip, caressing the soft, creamy flesh of her breasts. “And yours, my dear, have spent a fair portion of the evening in grave danger—most recently by crossing your arms when you grew annoyed with Young Jessop. In fact, I am not certain if he was embarrassed by his own actions, or the precarious situation you presented him with.” He didn’t bother to hide his smirk, whether she could see it or not.
She smacked his digits away. “My breasts are quite safe, my lord, and are in no danger—other than from your wandering hands.”
“I don’t disagree with regard to the source of the most immediate danger; however, I suggest you follow the rules of etiquette and refrain from such an…aggressive posture in the future. While I understand your previous desire to effectively stir up a scandal, I believed you had moved past that strategy. And having your lovely breasts spill from your neckline in the midst of a ball would, without a doubt, cause quite a scandal.”
She placed her hands on his chest and urged him backward a step. “Do not be a bore, Wolf. I shall dress as I see fit.”
“Can you blame me for merely wanting to shield what is mine from the view of others?”
He taunted her with their engagement, though, if he were honest with himself, there was far too much truth hidden in his words.
Her emerald gaze narrowed as she glared at him. “Yours?Have you turned Bedlamite?” She stepped into him and jammed her finger into his chest as she hissed her displeasure. “Do I need to remind you that this engagement is a farce, and will be over just as soon as Wallthorpe is no longer a threat?”
Wolf grinned as he grabbed her finger and then wrapped her in his arms. “Do I need to remind you how you melt against me when I kiss you?”
She pressed her hands against his chest, whether in self-preservation or to relish their closeness mattered not as the heat radiated into him despite the chill her words caused.
“Do not grasp at things that can never be.”
“Ah, I see Idoneed to remind you.”
And then he leaned in and captured her lips with his own. As he sought entrance to her sweet mouth, she remained rigid. But then as the smell of orange blossoms and spice wafted around him, her lips softened, granting him access. The sweetness of her taste burst across his palate as he delved deeper, letting their tongues twine together in a sensual dance. Her body melded into his, there in the shadows of the Hamptons’ terrace.
Lost in the headiness of their shared attraction, Wolf couldn’t imagine ever lettinghisJules escape him now. Not a second time.
Chapter 17
May, 1862
Julia sat in her front parlor, reading the sensational novelLady Audley’s Secretby M.E. Braddon. She was so engrossed in the riveting tale of bigamy and murder she did not realize she had a visitor until Johnson interrupted her.
“My lady, Sheik Tariq Azzam Hassan requests a word with you.” He stood waiting for her reply without even raising a brow.
Surprised to hear that her former lover was in England for a visit, she set her book aside. “Please, show him in. And please have Mrs. Paulson prepare some tea.”
“Very well, my lady.” Her butler bowed and went to fetch her guest.
Nervous, both about seeing Tariq and about what he might wish to discuss, she stood and edged closer to the door. She had learned a great deal in her time with him, and though receiving him while sitting might have given her the upper hand, it would also be insulting, considering their former connection. Besides, she still considered him a friend.
Johnson appeared once more. “Sheik Tariq Azzam Hassan, my lady.”
Then he bowed and left the handsome man from her past standing in her parlor, looking every inch the desert sheik. From his flowing robes and gold gilded headdress to his beringed fingers, he radiated his power and status, though of course, he would know none of it mattered to her.
“Julia, you are still the most delicate English rose I have ever laid eyes on.” He stepped closer and bowed over her hand.
“Tariq, married life appears to suit you.”
She refused to lavish him with compliments. The man had always had far too healthy an ego for his own good. Extricating her hand from his grasp, she motioned to the seating arrangement behind her. “Please, come in and sit.”
He took a seat on the settee, and she returned to the nearby chair she had occupied. Disappointment flashed across his swarthy-yet-handsome features. “Come, sit here with me. We were once such close friends.”
