Wild Lily (Those Notorious Americans Book 1)(42)

Now he had reason to do more. Since last night, Julian had pondered what his future might hold. His fascination with Lily was a living breathing being, far more vital than any dalliance he’d ever fancied with another woman. Their midnight ride and their enchanting entanglement had aroused more in him than he ever anticipated. He wished to protect her. From himself. But he also wished to possess her. For himself alone. That meant more kisses and more caresses. Her compliance, her need of him too, meant he could not walk away from her.

Furthermore, he would not hurt her feelings or her reputation. Nor would he collude with his father to persuade hers to do anything concerning their business dealings. He wanted Lily Hanniford. Efficiently. Totally unconnected to her father, his own and any business dealings they might or might not conclude.

He meant to pursue her, too. Learn if her lust for him—for that was what last night was—might be the kernel of a more tender emotion. Learn if his own was irrational longing, some idealized imagining of her as charming and daring, wild and carefree.

He’d not meddle in his father’s affairs.

He had too much interest in settling his own.

“I say, boy, you refuse me this?”

Julian stood. “Yes, sir. I do.”

“Even at the cost of Elanna’s future—”

How dare you. “You gave her until June.” His father was a right bastard. Especially since the estate began to lose thousands of pounds at the turn of the decade. “I expect you to honor that.”

“Or what?”

“I’ll help Elanna run away.”

“Don’t be foolish, boy.”

“Don’t be unprincipled, father.”

Seton flared his nostrils. “We are at an impasse.”

Julian nodded and headed for the door. “Right you are.”

Worried about Elanna, he headed straight for the main salon. But the doors were open and no one was inside. Whatever the conversation was that Carbury had intended with her, they had finished.

Julian turned for the stairs and strode to his sister’s bedroom door. He knocked—and knocked again. With his hand to the knob, he was ready to enter, when the door fell open. Facing him was Elanna’s maid, her tiny eyes circled white with fright.

“What’s the matter, Bess? Where is—?” But he saw Elanna in silhouette beyond her sitting room, standing before the window in her bedroom. She stood deathly still, her hands clasped before her but her posture sagged, so unlike his elegant little sister.

“Go away, Julian.” Her voice was a rasp.

“I wish to talk with you.”

“I don’t wish it. Please leave.”

He checked Bess’ stance. The servant assumed the posture of an animal on guard, terrified.

“What’s happened?” he asked Bess.

But the gray-haired woman bit her lip.

“Elanna?”

She stiffened, defiance in every line of her body. “Go away, Julian.”

“Let me help you.”

“You can’t. I love that you’ve tried. But you must let me go now.”

What does that mean? “Did something happen in the salon? Tell me.”

“No. Meet Miss Hanniford in the garden.”

“I must know—”

“No, you will not. Seize happiness for yourself, Julian. Do it. For me.” And then she turned to one side and walked out of his vision.

Roiled, defeated, exhausted, he made his way downstairs and out to Carbury’s orangery.

When Julian caught sight of Lily again, she was bent over a camellia bush in the huge glass house filled with sunlight and plants of every size and shape and fragrance. The sun shone on her hair, turning her dark tresses to glistening midnight.

And when she raised her face to welcome him, her countenance was aglow with an emotion so tender, he wished he had a portrait of her as she was in that moment when he knew—yes, he knew—he must have her as his wife.

But she searched his expression. “What’s wrong?”

He took her hands.

“Tell me if you wish. I won’t pry.”

He led her away from the door of the glass edifice where tall evergreens obscured the view from the house and anyone who might look out upon the splendid wealth of the gardens. At a white wrought iron bench, he urged her down.

Still holding her hands, he smiled briefly, painfully. “I worry about Elanna.”

“She wasn’t happy to talk with Lord Carbury.”

“You can see she doesn’t care for him.”

“Yes.” Lily nodded. “And that he is—well, not as charming a suitor as one might hope for.”

Julian lifted her hands, turned them over and kissed each one in the center of her palm. “How sweet you are.”

At his touch, she gave a little frisson. “I am honest, as we said we would be.”

He pulled her hands so that she circled his waist. So close, she smelled of lilacs. So near, she gazed up at him with admiration that he hoped one day to merit.

He wrapped his arms around her and brushed his lips on hers. “What should I do if I find myself addicted to your kisses and you are not near me?”

Her blue eyes veiled with sadness. “Don’t kiss another.”

“Never.” He sent the tip of his tongue along the fullness of her lower lip. “I must have you or no one.” He seized her mouth, the power to claim her going to his head. She came against him, trusting and eager, her lips opening to his beseeching tongue. She inched closer, a small moan marking her desire to match him.