Somewhere I'll Find You (Capital Theatre #1)(24)

His gaze remained fixed on hers as he touched his fingers to the salve and leaned forward. It seemed as if he was waiting for her to object. A denial trembled on her lips, but somehow she couldn't make a sound. She felt his fingers on her arm, smoothing salve over the bruises. He touched her as if she were made of porcelain, the brush of his skin barely perceptible against hers. Julia had never guessed that a man could be so gentle.

He moved to her shoulder, tending to the bruise there while she held absolutely still. Wild impulses flooded her…she wanted to lean against him, to feel his entire hand against her skin, to guide his long fingers over the curve of her breast. She held her breath, willing the feeling to go away, but the craving grew until her ni**les drew tight beneath the smooth silk of her gown. Helplessly she waited for him to finish, staring fixedly at his downbent head.

“Are there any more?” he asked.

“None that I'd care for you to see,” she managed to say.

A smile flashed across his face. He covered the tin and gave it to her. “My gift to you, Mrs. Wentworth. Apparently you'll need more of it before Taming of the Shrew completes its run.”

“Thank you.” Julia picked up her black gloves, discarded at the beginning of dinner, and used them to fan her burning face. “It's very warm in here,” she said lamely.

“Shall we walk in the garden?”

She nodded gratefully and left the dining room with him, crossing an anteroom to a pair of wide French doors that led to a paved garden path. It was dark and cool outside, crisp breezes rustling the leaves of fruit trees and whispering through the hedges.

They walked in silence past dense yew hedges and a line of flowering plum trees. Near the center of the garden was a large fountain filled with sculpted angels. Julia paused to admire the scenery, and became aware of a chest-high rose hedge bordering the path. The blossoms were familiar to her, large bursts of pale pink with an indescribably sweet perfume.

“Summer Glory roses,” she murmured. “My mother's favorite. She used to spend hours in her garden tending them. The most beautiful and by far the most thorny, she told me.”

Savage watched as she leaned close to a rose and inhaled its heady fragrance. “That particular variety is quite rare, especially in England. It was given to my family a long time ago from…” He stopped, a strange alertness infusing his expression. “A friend,” he finished. The two words seemed to hang between them, punctuating the air with a question.

All at once the air left Julia's lungs, and she struggled for a replenishing breath. Summer Glories were indeed a unique variety. Now that she thought of it, her family's estate was the only other place she had ever seen them. She realized that in all likelihood her mother Eva was the one who had given the cuttings to the Savages all those years ago. Before turning into an invalid, Eva had prided herself on her skill at cultivating exotic roses…she had often made gifts of plants to friends and acquaintances.

Rapidly Julia considered ways to cover up the blunder, and decided to change the subject as quickly as possible. She walked past the shrub with feigned indifference. “Is Lady Ashton aware that I'm here with you tonight?” she asked abruptly.

“Lady Ashton,” Savage repeated, sounding bemused at the unexpected question. He followed her along the path. “No, I haven't told her.”

“If she finds out, will it cause a problem for you?”

“She has no claim on me.”

“Oh, yes…your ‘understanding’ with her…” Julia winced as a bit of gravel slipped inside her silk shoe. She paused and removed the shoe, shaking it to remove the unwanted bit of stone. “Does Lady Ashton entertain hopes of marrying you, my lord?”

“You're asking very personal questions, Mrs. Wentworth.”

“I'm certain she does,” Julia said in answer to her own query. “You're quite an eligible man…aren't you?”

Savage took the shoe from her and bent to replace it on her foot. “I have no intention of marrying Lady Ashton.”

Hopping a step or two, Julia reached for his shoulder to steady herself, making the discovery that there was no padding in his coat. His muscles felt like oak beneath her palm. “Why not?” she asked, looking down at the seallike gleam of his hair in the moonlight. “Doesn't she suit your high standards?” Her breath caught as she felt his fingers on her ankle, gently guiding her foot back into the shoe.

His voice was slightly muffled as he replied. “I intend to marry for love.”

A pang of empathy mingled with Julia's surprise. So underneath his practical, self-controlled exterior there was a private dream, the same dream that had been stolen from each of them. “I wouldn't have expected such a romantic notion from a man like you, my lord.”

“What would you expect of me?”

“That you would marry for convenience and search for love elsewhere.”

“That's precisely what my father did. I'm certain my mother, being a sensible woman, expected nothing else of him, but I believe it hurt her all the same. I swore to myself that I would have something different.”

“That isn't always possible, though.”

“It will be for me.”

How would it be possible? He must have an annulment in mind. He would have to be rid of her before he could consider marriage, unless he thought there was nothing wrong with bigamy.