Page 55 of The Lady is Trouble
Sliding from the saddle, he dropped his brow to the black’s flank and sucked in an equine-scented breath, the reins clutched in his fist. Somewhere in the air was a fresh slice of the country, too, cut grass and wildflowers, a sensory shout telling him he was close to home, the stink of London hours behind. That alone knocked the headache down a notch. He’d anticipated fatigue this trip, but the visions had been fiercer than expected, unrelenting, and entirely too vivid. There was only so much he could do to protect himself when each turn of a corner presented mental involvements he was not always able to manage.
Unfortunately, this was not his only problem.
Piper, he thought and lifted his gaze to the sky as if tempestuous clouds could help him deal with a tempestuous woman. Beautiful, tenacious, charming, intelligent Piper, whom he wanted and feared in equal measure.What to do about her? She was turning his world inside out, ruining his plans, a destructive, enticing squall. Every second he’d spent with her in Ashcroft’s medieval chamber circled his brain, a bloody carousel that never stopped rotating.
And now heknew, at least in part, which was horrible and glorious.
Details men dreamed of knowing.
Maybe he imagined with an artist’s mind. Maybe another man would have recorded the images with less precision.
Her pale-pink thighs; the burnished swatch of hair between her legs; the shape and, down to averyspecific hue, the color of her nipples; the round, faultless weight of her breast in his hand. If sculpting were his chosen passion, he’d prepare the clay and set to work. As it was, he promised to bring her to life on canvas.
And he’d not seen all.
Ah, but he wanted to.
He tried to suppress the memories, but they, like the woman, intruded. That throaty mew she made when she came apart, a silky, panting moan. Stronger than a whimper, softer than an outright groan.
The most erotic sound he’d ever heard in his life.
Too, he wanted not just her body but her mind. Conversations in the pitch of the night. Her laughter, her wit.
One night. One night to cleanse them both. He wasn’t going to drag Piper into the abyss his gift was pulling him into. A gift propelling him to the outer edges of sanity.
The black danced to the side, and he whispered a gentle plea, begging for another moment to gather his strength. He had no experience with tender emotions, and the protective ones he expressed for those he loved seemed to overwhelm. His childhood had been an experiment in survival, sleeping with one eye on the bedchamber door, a butcher knife stolen from the kitchen stuffed beneath his feather mattress. Love or anything close to it hadneverentered into the equation.
Sleeping beneath a luxurious counterpane with a face bloodied, a body bruised, had been the worst sort of torment. He’d fight until his death to save as many people as he could from the hell he’d experienced as a child. His journey had started with Finn and would end when he drew his last breath.
To fulfill this oath, he would relinquish the only woman he’d ever loved.
Because her gift gave; histook.
And he wasn’t going to take anything more from her than one night.
The touch to his shoulder had him spinning around, the sudden move splashing black across his vision.
“Jesus, Jule,” Humphrey muttered and steadied him with a firm grasp under his elbow, for which Julian was embarrassed but thankful. He didn’t want to pitch face-first in the mud. He really didn’t.
“I’m okay.” He held up a hand that shook enough to have him deciding it might be better to have it retreat to his trouser pocket. “I have it.”
Humphrey cursed, a gutted breath shooting from his lips. “Sure you do,” he snarled and brushed past Julian to gather the saddlebag from the horse. He tossed it over his shoulder without comment and left Julian standing forlornly in the yard. A young lad from the inn rushed over with a promise that Julian’s horse would arrive tomorrow at Harbingdon, brushed down and fresh as a daisy. He nodded and slipped the boy a coin, too exhausted to comment.
With a sigh, he trudged to the carriage, feeling like a child reprimanded for breaking an antique vase in his mother’s salon. He’d be dead, throat slit and body dumped in a gutter or the Thames, if not for the towering man guarding the vehicle with an expression equal parts annoyance and concern. Humphrey was the only person Julian had ever let protect him in the wayheprotected everyone else. It was humbling but, hidden deep where most men housed their feelings, welcome. They’d agreed long ago to total honesty in their friendship, almost like a marriage, if Julian wanted to be downright maudlin. Humphrey and Finn were his brothers, as surely as if they’d been unlucky enough to be sired by Edward Alexander, eighth Viscount Beauchamp.
In the most delicious revenge possible, because of Julian’s subterfuge, all of London thought they had.
He reached the carriage and without a word of appeasement, clambered inside, keeping the pain the movement caused to himself. Head pounding in time to his heartbeat, he sought the darkest corner and prayed for the interrogation to wait until he had a night’s sleep behind him. And food in his belly. Closing his eyes, he dropped his head to the velvet seat and willed the ache to perdition.
Humphrey tapped the trap, three hard knocks, and they settled into their journey. A blanket smelling of lavender landed on his lap. He wadded it up, cushioning it underneath his cheek.Brilliant. More of Piper’s sweet-smelling laundry.
The bump and sway of the well-sprung carriage would have lulled him to sleep had he not felt the heat of Humphrey’s scrutiny. He blinked into the dim light cast from the lamp. “Youbrought her to London.”
For a long moment, Humphrey studied him. Whatever he found during the investigation did not satisfy. With a grimace, he tossed a leather satchel next to Julian. “You trying to kill yourself, is that it?”
Julian opened the satchel and reviewed the contents. Cheese, bread, ham. A flask containing excellent scotch, which lit him up quite nicely. “What?” he asked as if he’d just heard the question. He shook his head to clear it. “What? No.”
Humphrey ripped his flask from his coat pocket and jabbed it at Julian in a violent motion. “I saved your arse from that once. I’m not feeling up to it again, boyo.”