The Abduction of Julia

  So here he sat, the devil of a crick in his neck from trying to fit his six-foot frame on a small sofa, while his wife slept in chaste luxury under his goosedown counterpane.

  His wife. He said the words silently, as if tasting them. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, his life had changed drastically. Or at least, he amended, for the space of one year. Of course, with Julia’s intolerable demands, that year would seem like a lifetime. Irritation tightened his jaw. Chaste and innocent Julia might be, but she bargained like a fishwife. Alec stood abruptly and jammed his hands into his pockets, disliking the feeling that he had somehow been tricked.

  Of course, Julia’s perfidy did not stretch to the length of Therese’s. Therese had purposefully set out to ruin him, while Julia’s only fault had been in taking advantage of a plum opportunity that was too good to resist.

  Considering Julia’s unfortunate situation, Alec wondered if he could fault her for wishing to better her circumstances, even if it was at his own expense. And despite his ire, Julia had been right in one thing: without her assistance, he would have been left with nothing.

  She stirred and turned onto her back, nestling into the pillow. The edge of her skirt slipped from beneath the covers to drape to the floor. The threadbare muslin was a stark contrast to the elaborate material of the counterpane. A twist of disgust rose in him, dispelling his anger further. She was dressed like a commonplace chambermaid. Damn Therese and her selfishness.

  Of course, he realized with a sardonic grimace, the same could be said for him. He, too, was using Julia for his own purposes. Though he had blithely promised her an annulment, he knew such a move would be disastrous; her reputation would be in tatters. Society would snicker behind feathered fans and enjoy her discomfort.

  He crossed to the bed and looked at her sleeping face. Sighing in her sleep, she smiled, the shadow of a dimple racing across one cheek. Her hair rippled like golden brown satin across the pillows. Against his will, he touched a strand and marveled at the softness.

  Her lashes rested on the cream of her cheeks, and her nose, clearly visible without her infernal spectacles, was narrow and patrician. Except for the undeniable sensuality of her mouth, Julia looked as fresh and unspoiled as a country maid.

  But there was fire behind that prim exterior. Fire and passion, if her unexpected response to his kiss proved anything.

  He rubbed his bottom lip thoughtfully. It was a good thing they were married in name only. A man could get burned by heat like that.

  As if she heard his thoughts, she opened her eyes, blinking sleepily.

  She had beautiful eyes, he thought idly. Startlingly so.

  “Where am I?” she asked in a husky voice.

  A smile almost slipped from him. Trust Julia to get straight to the matter of things. “My townhouse. You fell asleep as soon as we left the vicar’s. I decided not to wake you.”

  She struggled to rise, only getting as far as one elbow before pressing a hand to her head, her delicate brows lowering. “Oww.”

  “I warned you about that punch.” Her only answer was to cover her eyes and ease back onto the pillow as if her head was made of the finest crystal.

  Alec crossed to the bellpull. He had barely tugged the embroidered rope when the door opened and his valet entered. Alec scowled. He hated it when the servants hovered, and Chilton was the worst of the lot.

  The valet was aquiver with curiosity. “Good morning, milord. I took the liberty to request breakfast be served within the half hour.” Though he addressed Alec, his bright gaze rested on Julia’s prostrate form.

  Alec moved in front of Julia. “Bring a bottle of rum.”

  Chilton hesitated. “I beg your pardon, milord, but…did you request rum?”

  “A bottle of rum and two glasses.”

  The valet gaped. “Before breakfast? But the mistress…I mean, it is quite early and…you were just wed…surely you don’t mean to—”

  “Rum,” Alec repeated. He opened the door. “And be quick about it.”

  Chilton’s thin mouth pinched with disapproval. “Very well, milord.” Outrage evident in every bone in his thin body, the valet marched out.

  Alec sighed. What had he been thinking, to offer a place to Grandfather’s old retainers?

  Julia noted the crease between Alec’s eyes, and an overwhelming urge to lay her head on her pillow and cry tightened her throat. It was silly and she knew it. But she was totally, utterly miserable. Her stomach roiled, her mouth was as dry as cotton, and it felt as if shards of glass had imbedded themselves behind her eyelids. She feared if she even moved, she would lose what little control she had. Still, circumstances demanded that she say something. Anything.

  “The sun’s too bright,” she managed to croak, sounding so much like a frog that she wished the earth would rise up and swallow her whole, before she made more of a fool of herself than she already had.

  Alec raised his brows and Julia placed her hands back over her hot, dry eyes and took deep, cleansing gulps of air. It was ludicrous. Here she was, her first morning as a wife, and all she could think about was how desperately she wanted to retch. “I’ll never drink rum again.”

  Alec crossed to the window and closed the heavy curtains. “Yes, you will. It will settle your stomach enough to eat. I’ll have some toast brought later.”

  Julia shuddered. “No. I don’t want toast. Or rum. Especially not rum.”

  “Trust me. You’ll feel better for it.”

  She didn’t even bother to answer, just squenched her eyes closed and prayed for a swift end to her misery. But it was not to be. The longer she lay, the more the room swirled and danced. Nausea hit her in waves. Forcing herself to sit up, she opened her eyes and tried to focus on her surroundings instead of Alec’s disturbing presence.

  A welcome fire burned in the grate of the elegant room. A small sofa and chair flanked the hearth, a neat table between them. Julia noted Alec’s jacket on the back of the sofa, the creased pillows pressed into one corner. It dawned on her that he had slept in the room with her. She looked down at her dress and noted that except for her boots, her clothing was completely intact.

  Of course it was. Devil Hunterston had his pick of London’s finest. Why would he bother with someone like her? She cleared her throat. “How did I get here?”

  “I carried you.”

  Julia risked a glance at him and then wished she hadn’t. His untucked shirt was startlingly white against his golden skin. His hair was in disarray, one inky lock falling across his forehead, while a day’s growth of whiskers darkened the strong line of his jaw.

  He had never looked so handsome. She wanted to trail her fingers along his jaw and kiss him like….

  Oh, God. Like she had before.

  The memory of the kiss at the inn flooded back in glaring detail. He had swept her into his arms, determined to ruin her reputation, and she had responded like a seasoned courtesan, clutching him tighter and even opening her mouth beneath his. Her head throbbed anew. Julia groaned and covered her heated face with her hands.

  “Do you need a basin?” Alec’s voice came from beside her.

  No matter how ill she felt, she would not admit to such a paragon of manly beauty that she was in dire danger of being violently ill all over his beautiful blue and gold carpet. She shook her head miserably.

  A warm hand came to rest on her shoulder. “Take a deep breath, love. It will pass.” Smooth and firm, his voice was as comforting as his touch.

  An unfamiliar wave of heat rose through her, blood thrumming a painful tattoo behind her bleary eyes. She wasn’t sure what hurt more, her head or her heart, but one of them was dying a slow and agonizing death.

  “Damn it! Where is Chilton with that rum?”

  Despite the irritation in Alec’s voice, his concern was palpable. She wished he would do something evil or debauched so she would have a weapon to fight off her unrestrained reactions.

  Instead, the hand on her shoulder slid up to rest on her head, sliding so
ftly through her tousled hair. “Perhaps I should call someone?”

  “No,” she answered miserably. “Except for you, there is no one.”

  There was a moment of silence before he replied, “I meant a maid.”

  “Oh.” Her cheeks heated even more and she wondered if a person could expire from sheer embarrassment. Darn the man for making her so ill at ease. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her head. If she were going to expire, she did not want to do it cowering beneath the covers like a ninny. Using every bit of composure she could find, she managed a shaky smile. “I believe I am feeling better.”

  Alec’s silver gaze roamed across her, one brow lifting in polite disbelief. “We should send a message to your aunt. She’ll be worried by now.”

  Julia doubted if either Therese or Aunt Lydia would do more than complain about the inconvenience of her absence, but she wasn’t up to explaining such a thing to Alec. He would offer his sympathy and her tattered emotions would dissolve completely.

  “I’ll write a letter to your aunt,” he said abruptly. “I realize this is awkward, Julia. I don’t wish you to be uneasy.”

  The concern in his voice made her want him all the more. Tears welled and she pulled the covers to her face.

  “Damn!” he swore. “Where is Chilton?” Alec moved away from the bed.

  Julia waited with bated breath for the sound of his footsteps out the door. Instead, he startled her by returning to sit beside her. He thrust a bowl into her lap. “Here.”

  She dropped the covers to clutch at the porcelain basin and she found herself staring straight into Alec’s amazing silver-gray eyes. He was so handsome, smiling down at her, that lock of black hair falling over his forehead. All thought of tears evaporated. “Th-thank you,” she stammered.

  A faint smile curved his mouth as his gaze roamed over her, lingering on her mouth before coming to rest on the spill of hair over her shoulder.

  Julia knew it must look as if a bird had nested in it. If he was looking for flaws, he’d just discovered a treasure trove of imperfections. She was nearsighted, brownhaired, and square-chinned. Add to that mussed hair and horridly wrinkled clothes, and she knew she must look worse than death.

  “The rum, milord,” intoned Chilton, standing stiffly in the doorway holding a tray with two glasses. Barely a mouthful of liquid rested in the bottom of each.

  “I sent for a bottle.” Distinct reproof deepened Alec’s voice.

  The servant squared his shoulders. “Surely you didn’t need more than this, milord. Especially since her ladyship has not yet risen.”

  Julia squinted at the man. Alec caught her look and said, “I should have introduced you. Lady Hunterston, may I present Chilton, my valet. I inherited him from my grandfather.”

  It took Julia a moment to realize she was Lady Hunterston. She managed a weak smile.

  Chilton leaned toward her, his narrow face puckered. For a horrifying moment she thought he would cry. “My lady, allow me to be the first to tell you how much we have looked forward to the day when—”

  “Master Alec!”

  All eyes turned to the door. A stout woman, dressed in a neat, dark gown and carrying a laden tray, beamed at Julia. An impressive ring of keys proclaimed her to be the housekeeper. She bobbed a curtsey that set her brassy yellow hair into a frenzy of quaking curls. “I brought your breakfast, m’lord. I thought mayhap you and her ladyship would like to have it up here, all cozylike.”

  The housekeeper placed the tray on the table before the fire. The pungent aroma of fresh bacon wafted across the room, and Julia clutched her bowl tighter.

  Chilton set his tray on the nightstand with an audible thump, his thin mouth folded in disapproval. “Mrs. Winston, I told you his lordship preferred to eat in the breakfast room.”

  The housekeeper sniffed. “So you did. But seeing as how his lordship is newly wed and all, I thought it best to bring it here.” The housekeeper plopped her hands on her hips, a pugnacious challenge in her face. “You overstep your boundaries if you think to tell me when and where to set the table, Mr. Chilton.”

  Alec caught Julia’s questioning gaze and gave a deprecating shrug. “The housekeeper, Mrs. Winston.”

  “Did you inherit her, too?”

  He nodded morosely.

  Mrs. Winston’s broad front teeth appeared in a wide smile. “I’ve known Master Alec since he was a little thing, barely old enough to stand up and gnaw on the curtain tassels. He was a lovely child, all black curls and big gray eyes.”

  “That will be enough, Mrs. Winston,” Alec said, his face as dark as a cloud.

  Undeterred, the housekeeper launched into a catalogue of “Master Alec’s” childhood escapades that made Julia’s head swim anew. Under normal circumstances she would have loved to hear anything that had to do with Alec, but this morning all she wanted was a few minutes of privacy. Just her and her basin. Alone.

  Mrs. Winston chuckled merrily. “Oh, Master Alec was as full of mischief as they come. Why once, he climbed into the coal shuttle, as naked as—”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Winston,” Alec interrupted hastily, his color suspiciously high. He stood and herded the servants toward the door. “I believe we should all retire and allow Lady Hunterston some time alone. She had a very hectic day yesterday and no doubt she would be the better for some solitude.”

  “Yes,” agreed Julia fervently. “And a bath, please.” She remembered how her father swore by the beneficial effects of a hot bath after a night of overindulgence. Right now, she could think of nothing more pleasant.

  Alec halted by the door and glanced back. He hesitated, raking a hand through his hair. “Julia, I know you don’t feel well, but we must visit the solicitors today.”

  “Julia?” said the housekeeper, turning on her heel and coming back into the room. Her wide gaze traveled from Alec to Julia.

  Chilton peered over her shoulder, looking so like a goose, Julia expected him to begin honking. Instead, he said, “Good heavens! We thought you were to marry Miss Therese Frant. Isn’t this….” He trailed off as a bright red covered his cheeks. “Oh, dear.”

  Alec swore softly. “This is Miss Julia Frant, Therese’s cousin.”

  Both servants stared at Julia with wide, astonished eyes.

  She thought about putting the basin over her head and crawling out the door. If it wouldn’t have made her ill to move, she would have done just that.

  After a tense moment, Mrs. Winston gave a swift nod. “I never cared for the name Therese. Too French, to my way of thinking.”

  “I’m not French,” said Julia. “I’m an American.”

  The valet gasped and clapped his hand across his mouth. The outraged gesture seemed to decide Mrs. Winston even more firmly. “American or no, my lady, I’m glad to have you here. His lordship needs someone who can take care of him. He’s a bit lost, you know. Gambling and drinking and I don’t know what else—”

  “Mrs. Winston.” Alec’s frosty gaze narrowed on the plump housekeeper.

  “There now, Master Alec, you know you’ve picked up some nasty habits since your grandfather died. A great pity it is, too.”

  Julia had to admire the way Alec held his temper. Considering one of his servants had just scolded him as if he were no more than six years of age, he showed remarkable self-control.

  He merely glowered and said carefully, “Mrs. Winston, I’m sure Lady Hunterston would prefer us to leave her to her own reflections rather than burdening her with ours.” He held the door wider. “You, too, Chilton. There must be duties that require your attention elsewhere.”

  Chilton looked wounded. “But, milord—”

  “Elsewhere,” Alec repeated.

  The valet straightened his narrow shoulders and marched out the door. Mrs. Winston bustled about the breakfast tray, making minute adjustments to the placement of the silver and china before breezing toward the hall. She stopped by Alec. “Don’t keep her ladyship from her breakfast. She’ll feel more the thing after a bit of tea.” T
he housekeeper flashed an arch look up at Alec before adding with a mischievous grin, “And we don’t want her to go and tire herself, do we?”

  Julia noted Alec’s reddening cheeks as he nodded mutely. Satisfied she had finally reduced her charge to befuddled silence, the housekeeper whisked herself out of the room, humming merrily. Alec closed the door with such force, Julia winced.

  An awkward silence filled the room. Julia cleared her throat. “You have very interesting servants.”

  Alec sighed and leaned against the door, crossing his arms over his open shirt. “Not one of them is capable of remembering I’m no longer a child.”

  “They’re fond of you.”

  “Fondness like that can kill.”

  “I think they are charming.”

  “You haven’t met Burroughs yet, my grandfather’s butler. He waits up for me every night with a glass of warmed milk.”

  She pressed a hand to her stomach at the thought of warmed milk. “Do you drink it?”

  “Never. I pour it out the window.” The corners of his mouth curved, his eyes crinkling with sudden mirth. “The plum tree in the garden is dying a slow and agonizing death.”

  Julia offered a weak smile. “I’d rather die by warmed milk than rum.”

  His face softened. “Drink the rum and make yourself eat something. You’ll feel better.”

  “A bath will help, too.”

  “Don’t soak too long. We must meet with the solicitor today and present him with proof of our marriage.” He pushed away from the door with a smooth gesture and opened it.

  “Alec.” Her call startled her as much as it did him.

  He regarded her intently, his lashes shadowing his eyes until they appeared almost black. The sight sent a shiver through her that had nothing to do with the coolness of the room. Desperately, she cast about for a safe topic of conversation. “Must we meet the solicitor today? My dress is sadly crumpled.”