Once Upon a True Love's Kiss Page 8

  Liza glanced up at her and smiled. "What is it, Mama?"

  Julianna bent down and kissed her daughter on the head. "Nothing, darling. I was just thinking of something I need to practice. Shall we go take your nap?" Watching Liza fall asleep for her early-afternoon nap was one of Julianna's favorite parts of her day.

  Liza nodded and skipped down the hall toward the steps. She paused at the foot of the staircase. "I'm going to dream of apple tarts." She took a big whiff of the air, which just so happened to be filled with the aromas of baking apples.

  Smiling, Julianna came up beside her daughter and squeezed her shoulder. "That sounds perfect, darling."

  Liza scrambled halfway up the staircase, then paused and turned to look at Julianna who was coming up at a slower pace behind her. Liza's forehead wrinkled as she glanced at Julianna. "Mama, what will you dream of?"

  Julianna closed the distance between them and intertwined her fingers with her daughter's soft, small ones, then gave her an encouraging pull to keep moving. As they ascended the remainder of the stairs, Julianna said, "I suspect I'll dream of your father, as usual."

  Liza fell strangely quiet, but once Julianna had tucked her into her bed and lay beside her, she turned and laid her warm hand on Julianna's cheek. "Mama, do you always dream of Papa?"

  Julianna nodded while the familiar ache of loss that had been with her for so long hardened in her throat. She swallowed. "I suspect my mind does that, so I won't forget him ever."

  "Makes sense," Liza said with a yawn. "So do you dream of your papa, too? And your mama?"

  Julianna stilled, turning the question over in her mind. "No, no, I don't. I rarely dream of them."

  Liza's eyes, which had closed, popped back open. "Does that mean you've forgotten them, Mama?"

  The worry that creased Liza's little face made Julianna's heart twist. She hugged Liza close to her. "No, darling. I've not forgotten them. You can never forget someone you loved as much as I loved my parents or your father."

  Suddenly, her heart was racing as her words echoed in her ears. She would never forget Henry, no matter the years that had passed between the moment she had last smiled down at him and this very second. Her mind hummed as she lay there listening to the steady, deepening inhalations of her daughter's breath as she fell asleep.

  Julianna felt rooted to the bed. Her heart thudded in her ears, making her stomach flutter violently. She had been terrified that she would forget Henry if she didn't go through life actively mourning him, but that just wasn't so. What did this mean for her and her life going forward? She'd been so sure that to marry again would be to betray Henry's plea that she never forget him, but she'd been wrong and too wrapped up in grieving to understand it until just now.

  Could she marry again? Did she even want to? Warm tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes as she stared unseeingly up at the ceiling and faced one unchanged truth: she never wanted to fall in love again and open her heart to the sort of pain that came with losing such a deep love.

  What did that leave her with? Eternal loneliness? Her chest tightened at the thought. If not the lonely widow, then who could she be? The widow who took a lover? How did one even go about finding a lover? The mere contemplation caused her cheeks to burn with embarrassment. The memory of the way Nash's lips massaged hers sent her senses reeling once again and caused the burning of her cheeks to sweep over her entire body.

  It was ridiculous even to consider such a thing. The man needed a wife, not a lover, and she had been employed to teach him how to be a proper gentleman so he could find a proper wife for himself and, in turn, a proper mother for his daughter. She didn't need to lead him astray from such a noble undertaking—not that she could. Though, he really had acted as if he was trying to seduce her earlier. She squeezed her eyes shut, scandalized by her own thoughts and desperate to clear her mind of the preposterous notions tumbling in her head. Perhaps someday, many years from now, she would meet a gentleman who she fancied and then…

  Blast! She punched her pillow. She did not know what came after then.

  Oh heavens! She wished sleep would come. She was so confused. She could not imagine taking a lover, nor could she imagine taking a husband. That left loneliness. But then, of course, her heart would be safe.

  After Forever: Chapter Seven

  EARLY THE NEXT MORNING NASH CURSED as he yanked loose the cravat he'd just finished tying. He leaned closer to the looking glass in his bedchamber while beads of sweat dampened his brow.

  "Bloody hell," he muttered again. His fingers were too clumsy to tie a perfect cravat. Normally, he wouldn't bother with the damned contraption out here in the country and privacy of his home, but today was not a normal day. Julianna would be here in less than ten minutes to begin their lessons, and Nash wanted to look the part of a gentleman for her.

  After that kiss yesterday, he knew exactly what he wanted, and it was Julianna as his wife. She'd shown she was an excellent mother, and the desire between them was like nothing he'd ever experienced. Until he'd kissed Julianna, he'd been so confident in his plan to become a proper gentleman to attract a suitable lady to be Maggie's mother. He'd known his greatest asset was his money, and he'd concluded that the money, once he acquired the right manners, would bring him a well-bred, likely boring wife, that would do her duty to him and introduce Maggie to Society.

  But when Julianna's lips had touched his and her moan had caressed his ear, her hands clutching at his shoulders, he knew he had underestimated what he really wanted. Yes, he still desired a suitable wife, but it would be so much better to marry an appropriate wife with whom he shared passion. He hadn't thought he really cared, but Julianna had made him realize he did—a great deal.

  He wanted to desire his wife and have a wife who felt the same way for him, and with Julianna, need simmered between them whether she was prepared to admit it or not. Julianna had also stirred a longing in him to be wanted for more than his money—to be yearned for because of who he was and the feelings he elicited in a woman. Desire and convenience would make a much more solid and entertaining basis for a marriage than what he had previously planned.

  Now all he had to do was make Julianna long for him so much that she wanted to marry him.

  Satisfied with his conclusion, if not his lopsided cravat, he turned on his heel and strode out of the bedchamber and down the stairs. As he entered the foyer, Reed was leading Julianna through the front door. Nash's breath snagged in his chest at the picture she presented.

  A simple chignon would make many women look dowdy but not Julianna. Her upswept hair exposed her long slender neck and her creamy skin beckoned like a siren song. A few coppery tendrils of her silky hair curled against her neck and made him long to wrap the glistening strands around his finger and tug her near. The white muslin gown she wore dipped low on her breasts, just enough for him to imagine slipping a finger underneath the material and tugging it low to caress her and lavish kisses on her milky skin and rosy nipples.

  A bolt of desire shot through him. He had to get control. The objective of the next several weeks was to make her realize she could not resist her attraction to him, not scare her because of his mounting need for her.

  "You're early," he said, moving toward her and proffering his elbow.

  "Yes, I—"

  "I'm glad," he inserted, beginning his assault on her defenses immediately. "You look lovely." She looked breathtaking. Astounding. Like a painting by a great artist, but saying all that would likely send her scurrying in the other direction. As it was, her hand was clutching her parasol so tightly that her knuckles were white. Nash moved away slightly to give her some space to feel safe.

  "I see you brought your sunshade. Were you thinking we'd have our lesson out of doors?"

  "Yes. The day is quite lovely, but if you prefer in here…"

  "No." Outside, they would be alone. It was perfect. "I'm stuck inside too much, as it is. It will be quite nice to take some fresh air with you. You and Maggie can have your
lesson outside today if you wish it, as well."

  A genuine smile lit her face, and he found himself grinning in return. "Shall we?"

  When she nodded her agreement, he led them through the corridor toward the picture gallery where double doors exited into the garden. He didn't speak, enjoying the echo of their matched footsteps against the marble floor and savoring the feel of her hand resting trustingly on his arm. As they entered the portrait gallery, she paused and frowned, glancing at the mostly bare walls and then around the room, before her gaze rested on him. A line appeared between Julianna's brows as she glanced at Esther's painting. "I assumed you didn't know your parents since you were raised in an orphan house."

  "I didn't. That's not my blood mother, though she most certainly is my real mother."

  "I'm glad to hear it," Esther called at his back.

  Nash turned and grinned at Esther. He had no doubt she'd been lurking in the shadows, waiting for her chance to meet Julianna and decide if she thought Julianna was worthy of tutoring Maggie. There was no doubt in his mind that Esther, with her formidable looks and keen mind, would have been a stalwart duchess had she been born of the ton and not of the slums. He hoped Julianna liked her, because if she did not, it would really be a disturbance in his plan to make Julianna his. Esther would always be with him, if she wanted to be.

  Esther marched up to them and shoved her hands to her hips, giving Julianna a narrow-eyed look. "You must be the new tutor."

  Julianna dropped into a curtsy that left Nash with a slack jaw. As he clamped his mouth shut, he noted with amusement that Esther shared his shock. Julianna was above Esther's rank and should not have curtsied, but he suspected she was trying to show Esther deference. The kind gesture only proved he was making the right decision pursuing her. She'd make a fine mother for Maggie and teach her proper values for all human life.

  Julianna came up and withdrew her arm from Nash. She stepped close to Esther and placed her hand on the woman's arm. "I would never presume to take on this position without your help and guidance. You know both of my pupils far better than I do, and you have done an excellent job teaching them to be good people. Would you be so kind as to help me?"

  Esther's eyes softened and a rare smile played at her lips. "I'll help you with the young miss. I've done all I can for this one." Esther motioned to him. "He rarely listens to me."

  Nash started to protest, but Julianna shot him a pleading look that Esther seemed not to notice. He liked that Julianna was worried about Esther's feelings. All the other ladies who had come to interview for the position had acted somewhat disdainful of Esther when they learned she was no relation to him.

  "Take, for example, this portrait gallery," Esther continued, bringing Nash's attention back to her. "I told him, as did the architect, that he was daft for creating a portrait gallery when he had no family paintings to put in it, but would he listen?"

  "I do believe it's safe to say he would not," Julianna answered with a chuckle.

  Esther quirked her eyebrows. "Don't you think it was a daft idea?"

  Julianna's gaze came to his, and it appeared frank and rather admiring. He had the urge to blink to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was, but he didn't want to look away from her beautiful eyes.

  "I do not think having a portrait gallery built for this home was a daft idea at all," she said in a thoughtful tone. "I think it rather brave of Nash to have the hope that someday his gallery will be filled with family pictures, and I think it rather admirable that he has the fortitude to stick to what he wants, even when someone he so obviously loves and admires disagrees with him. I do hope I haven't offended you by saying so, Mrs.—"

  "Esther. Call me Esther, and you haven't offended me."

  Nash studied Julianna as Esther prattled to her about different things Maggie had already learned regarding etiquette. He could care for Julianna if she would let him. He felt it deep within, in a place he hadn't allowed to open since he was younger and had still held out hope that someday one or both of his parents would come to find him. His heart ached painfully as he looked at her. She fluttered her hands in the air as she talked, and her lavender scent floated around her. The dimples that flashed in her cheeks showed her smile was genuine, and her eyes radiated her inner kindness.

  Oh yes. He could care for this woman with all the pent-up years of longing he had stored in him, but the question was, would she even want that from him? He would see eventually.

  Maybe.

  And if she vowed there would never be room in her heart for another man even after he wooed her and hopefully made her realize she could not deny her desire for him, then he would be happy with passion, because it was so much more than he had hoped for.

  JULIANNA'S HEART FLUTTERED VIOLENTLY as Nash led her out of the portrait gallery and into the bright, sunny garden. There was not one simple thing she could pinpoint that made him so interesting and enticing to her. It was a combination of things that entranced her—such as the heat he radiated that singed the hand she had on his elbow. It was also his obviously big heart. Any man who employed former street urchins to give them a better life, as Esther had just revealed, was a man to be admired. The hard, unyielding bulge of his bicep muscles also made him rather admirable—in a completely different way, of course. The thought almost made her falter in her step.

  Heavens, she was becoming wicked of mind. Nash deserved to find a good wife and mother for his daughter as he wanted, and she was determined to help him do exactly that. So it was imperative that things between them remain strictly professional.

  To that end, touching him was probably not a good idea. Reluctantly, she pulled her hand away from him and swept it toward the beautiful maze in the middle of his gardens. "Let us stroll as I teach you."

  "What's my first lesson?" he asked as they walked toward the maze entrance. His voice was low and tinged with sinful suggestion.

  A little shiver raced across Julianna's skin. She tried to ignore it. "Well, since you plan to attend the Duke and Duchess of Primwitty's ball in several weeks, and I feel certain you will meet a lady you wish to call on, why don't we start with paying calls, as I've already seen first hand you know how to act properly around a lady."

  "All right. I suppose we should really play the parts if the lesson is to be genuine."

  Julianna frowned. "What do you mean?"

  "I mean we should pretend we met each other at the ball and are interested in each other and that I have come to call on you."

  Was it her imagination or had his voice dropped even lower and become more suggestive? "That seems like a good plan." Thank goodness her voice came out steady and not wobbly like she felt inside.

  Nash gestured to a gazebo that housed a lovely white bench with a wrought-iron arch over it. Lush greenery covered the arch and nearly concealed the bench from every side. It seemed almost like a secret space.

  "Do you want to sit there?" Nash asked. "We can pretend it's a settee in a parlor."

  Julianna nodded, and as she walked over to the bench her heart started beating loudly in her ears. Nash's voice cut through the thumping noise.

  "Are you ready?"

  She nodded and held in a bark of laughter as he walked stiffly toward her with his nose raised just a bit in the air and his shoulders squared back. He looked exactly like her butler when the man announced callers, but there was no way Nash could know what her butler looked like. Still, she was sure he was mimicking a butler. "Are you pretending to be the butler?"

  He winked. "I'm pleased my acting skills are not so shabby that you failed to recognize what I was doing."

  "Is that how you see all butlers?"

  "All but my own," he replied. "And it's not how I see them, it's how they treat me when they realize there is not the title of 'Lord' in front of my name."

  Julianna's heart ached for him. He'd offered a nonchalant shrug with his words, but the revelation itself was a window to the pain other people must have caused him. Oh, how she hated her
class sometimes. As if a person could really be judged good or bad based on their money and title. She knew plenty of awful lords and ladies who had more money than they could ever spend and more titles than they could even remember, but none of them had a whit of compassion. Suddenly, she didn't want to teach Nash to be like men of the ton. He was perfect the way he was. Yet, she would instruct him because she knew that was what he wanted.

  She folded her hands in her lap and gazed up at him, praying the admiration she felt for him shined in her eyes and would give him confidence, if he ever should feel the hand of doubt press down on him. She dare not comment, for she was certain he'd not meant to reveal his inner heart to her. "Mr. Wolverton, how lovely for you to call, though I just finished breaking my fast."

  "You're eating rather late, are you not?" he asked staring down at her.

  "No. It's ten in the morning."

  "Ah, my dear. I fear your clock is broken. I would never call before the customary hour of three."

  She was pleased and surprised he knew calling hours in London were from three to six. "It must be my clock," she murmured and pretended to examine a non-existent calling card.

  He watched her for a long moment, and then he said, "Is my card hard to read?"

  She squinted, fighting a smile. This was fun. She could not imagine any other man of her acquaintance going along with a pretend calling lesson. Then again, it had been Nash's idea that they truly play the parts. The man was full of surprises. "What manner of engraving is this? Is this Gothic or Roman letters?"

  "Neither. It's Italian."

  Yet another thing he already knew. This time she did smile. "Excellent. Please, do sit."

  He lowered himself beside her very close, but not so close that their legs touched. It was perfectly proper, yet somehow felt perfectly scandalous. He stretched his long legs out in front of him and crossed his ankles while folding his arms over his chest. His gaze captured her, and she felt wonderfully trapped by the intensity shining in his smoky blue eyes. "I enjoyed dancing with you last night, Julianna."