Earlier in the evening she had a pleasant conversation with the Duchess of Winterbourne, who had mentioned there were some lovely landscapes hung along this long, deserted hallway. Now was the perfect time to view them.
The sound of confident footfalls had Katrina praying that the pompous Mr Armstrong had not found her. Turning her head, she was startled when Julian took her arm and tugged her through one of the open doorways into an oak-panelled room.
The sight of three large stuffed birds glaring at her in the moonlight from the round table beside them made her jump, and it took her a moment before she shifted her attention to the man standing a few feet in front of her. Lady Wentworth’s comment echoed in her mind, and it occurred to her that all Julian had to do was look at her to make her insides quiver. She had to remind herself he was not the man for her.
‘Are you trying to ruin me?’ she demanded, placing her hands on her hips. ‘What possessed you to drag me in here?’
He stepped closer, creating a cushion of heat between them. No man deserved to look that good in unremarkable formal black evening clothes.
‘Of course I’m not trying to ruin you. My committee meetings have been consuming my days. I wanted you to know I have not forgotten about our promise.’
Once more she heard Lady Wentworth’s voice.
‘Please do not feel obligated to continue to read with me. You’re a very busy man, and I’m certain you’d prefer to read the remainder of the book at your leisure.’
He lowered his gaze towards his shiny black dress shoes. ‘On the contrary, I would rather read it with you.’ As he looked back up at her through his thick lashes a look of confusion crossed his face. ‘Do you no longer wish to read with me?’
He was not courting her. She had no claim on him. How could she tell him how she felt without sounding jealous? Which she absolutely wasn’t.
‘Do you really think this is an appropriate place to have a conversation? We should not even be in here together.’
‘I had no choice—you would not so much as look at me.’
‘I was trying to avoid speculation about us.’
Julian narrowed his eyes and tipped his head back. ‘We have spoken before in public. I do not think it would shock people if we were to do so again.’
‘And how would you have informed me that you want us to continue reading together with people around us?’
The faint, distant strains of the quartet drifted into the room through the closed door as he flashed her a devilishly handsome smile. ‘That is why this is an ideal location for our discussion.’ Sliding his hand around her waist to the small of her back, he pulled her to him. ‘I cannot stop thinking about you and our kiss.’
Neither could she, and that was a problem. Before she fell asleep she thought about it, over and over. Even at odd moments in the day she would think about the feel of his lips and the taste of his tongue. She had wanted that kiss to go on for ever.
She placed her hands on his solid chest, intending to push him away. Her arms wouldn’t move. How she longed to press her body further into his.
A look of what might have been tenderness softened his features. ‘You are most unexpected.’
It would be so easy to lose herself in him, but according to Lady Wentworth he was one of many English aristocrats with philandering ways. She would not be one of his conquests.
He lowered his head to hers and his soft breath caressed her lips. This time she pushed against his chest, and he immediately let her go.
‘I will not kiss a man who shares his affection with another.’ It was said in such a rush she wasn’t certain she had been coherent.
He jerked his head back and crossed his arms, his biceps bulging under the sleeves of his coat. ‘Are you referring to me?’
She put her hands on her hips. ‘Yes—you were the one who looked as if you intended to kiss me.’
‘I did want to kiss you... I do want to kiss you. However, I’m not sharing my affection with anyone.’
Now it was Katrina’s turn to narrow her eyes. ‘Not even with your paramour?’
He let out a bark of laughter. ‘My what?’
‘Your paramour...or mistress. Or do you call her something else?’ Katrina huffed. ‘I would appreciate it if you would not find so much amusement in what I’m saying.’
‘Forgive me,’ Julian said, quietening down and trying unsuccessfully to stop smiling. ‘I can truly say I have never met any woman quite like you.’
‘Simply answer the question, please.’
‘What was the question? Oh, yes—well, I don’t call her anything because there is no one else.’
‘But I thought... That is to say, aren’t you...?’ Katrina chewed her lip, feeling foolish. She knew she hadn’t mistaken Lady Wentworth’s insinuation. But who was she to believe? A horrid woman she didn’t know or Julian— Julian who felt deeply about honour and duty?
‘Do you really think we should be discussing this?’ he asked, lowering his head and prompting Katrina with his eyes. ‘You know gently bred ladies should not even be aware of such things?’
‘Well, I am. I lived in Paris and I have witnessed open displays of indiscretion.’
She had even stumbled upon Comte Janvier and Madame Broussard in a garden once. The Comte’s trousers had been down around his knees and Madame Broussard’s skirt had been lifted so high Katrina knew exactly what occurred between men and women. However, it wasn’t necessary for Julian to know the extent of her knowledge gained from that tableau.
‘Are you are telling me there is no one you are sharing your affections with?’
‘I have had women in my life in the past with whom I have shared my affections, but no longer. Now I find the only woman I want to share my affections with is you.’
Katrina’s heart hammered against her ribs and the room grew unbearably warm. ‘Only me?’ she let out with a breath.
Slowly and seductively his lips rose into a smile. ‘Only you.’
* * *
Staring into her eyes, Julian felt overwhelmed by his feelings for her. He lowered his gaze and found his attention riveted to her smooth skin and that enticing birthmark on the upper swell of her left breast. He hardened at the thought of trailing his tongue from that birthmark down to the nipple he knew was hidden under the white organza of the bodice of her gown. He wanted to suck on that nipple until he heard her groan—or moan.
Bloody hell, what would she sound like?
‘I wish I knew what you were thinking,’ she said, biting her lip.
‘There are times when you make it very difficult to be a gentleman.’ He pulled her close and crushed his lips to hers. Her mouth was warm and sweet. Best of all, she was kissing him back with as much passion as he felt coursing through his own veins. He could kiss her all night... Until she moved her lower body against his and his trousers tightened even more. Then the image of sliding himself inside her would not leave his brain.
‘Say my name,’ he said, trailing kisses along her jaw and having the oddest desire to hear his name on her lips.
‘Julian...’ It came out more like a moan as he softly bit her neck.
As much as he knew he shouldn’t, he slid his hand up her waist over the soft fabric of her gown until he cupped her left breast. The weight of it fitted perfectly into his palm, as if she were made just for him. He gave it a gentle squeeze and felt her breath catch in his mouth. Her nipple hardened into a tight bud in his palm. With his eyes closed he broke the kiss, to trail soft nips down the long column