The Proposition Part 2

He was leaving town? Julia knitted her brows, not at all sure how she felt about his departure. "How long will you be gone?"

"Five days," he supplied crisply, withdrawing his arm and leaning around her to open the door. Light spilled out from the foyer as he added, "Six at the most, I should think."

Julia sat unceremoniously on the stone bal.u.s.trade, both stunned and hurt. "Our wedding is in five days, Lawrence. Four, actually, since it's now past midnight."

He started. "Oh, yes. Of course," he hastily offered. "Then I shall be back late the evening before."

No apology, she noted. Not that that was at all unusual for him. But for some reason tonight it irritated her. "Would you prefer to postpone it?" she asked. "We can if you have more important matters to attend."

Lawrence shook his head emphatically. "No, no," he a.s.sured her. "The expense of changing the date at this point would be unconscionable. I'll simply have to plan around it. What I don't get done before, I'll see to immediately after."

The expense? "Will you be staying for the reception," she asked tightly, "or shall I instruct that one less meal be served and save a few s.h.i.+llings?"

He blinked and rocked back on his heels, his eyes going wide and the color seeming to drain from his face. "Were you not able to find a powder for your headache, Julia?"

"No, I wasn't," she answered, thinking that if she could find one now it would be a magic potion to make him disappear into thin air. Or, better yet, to Watford. Forever.

"And the walk in the gardens didn't help, either?"

"For a while. As it turns out, it was the best part of the entire evening," she answered testily, wondering why men always a.s.sumed that female anger had to be the cause of some malady rather than the natural consequence of thickheaded male behavior.

"I hope you'll feel better in the morning."

She sighed at the sincere concern she heard in his voice and her anger drowned beneath a wave of guilt.

He did care for her in his own rather b.u.mbling and distracted way. "Thank you, Lawrence. I think I'll sit here for a while and see if some fresh air doesn't improve it."

He nodded and moved toward her, saying, "Then I'll-"

"No, please," she interrupted, shooing him back. "You have a busy day tomorrow and it's very late.

You need to get your rest. Please go and don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

"Well.. ." He sighed and then shrugged. "Good night, dearest," he said, leaning down to brush a kiss

over her cheek. "I'll send word to you when I return."

"Travel safely and enjoy the journey," she called softly, watching him walk away. He waved over his shoulder without looking back and his little book was back in his hand before he vaulted up the carriage steps.

Julia closed her eyes and shook her head as the coach rolled off. He was so predictable, so dedicated to his work.

"My," drawled a familiar, dry voice, "such unrestrained pa.s.sion."

CHAPTER 3.

"Rennick, you're a cad," Julia declared as he came up the steps.

He grinned and dropped down beside her on the bal.u.s.trade. "I know. It's by deliberate choice, too."

"How long have you been skulking in my shrubbery?"

"I wasn't skulking," he replied cheerfully. "And I wasn't in the shrubbery. If you'd bothered to look as

you were coming up the walk with Sir Galahad, you would have seen me standing off to the side. Where, I might add, I've spent the better part of the last two and a half hours waiting for you to come home. When did you become such a late-night reveler?"

"I'm not a reveler," Julia corrected, enjoying his presence beside her and wis.h.i.+ng she didn't. "Lawrence had business to conduct."

"Was the time in the garden really the best part of your evening?"

And it had been the worst part of the evening, too. Just as having him a part of her life had always been the very best and the very worst of it. "Oh, Rennick," she said softly, not knowing what she should do.

He leaned to the side and playfully b.u.mped her shoulder with his. "Come away with me, Julia. Let me

show you what a proper good-night kiss should be like."

It was no wonder he'd bedded half the women in London society. He knew just what to say and how to say it.

It was impossible to be truly and righteously indignant with him. He was so charming, so disarming. So

very, very appealing. "There's absolutely nothing proper about your proposal, Rennick St. James.

Nothing."

"Granted. But it is tempting, isn't it?"

Yes, G.o.d help hen it was. She sighed and looked over at him. "You're not planning to give up, are you?"

His grin was soft. Not quite victorious, but decidedly knowing. "I told you I wouldn't."

"Do you intend to camp on my doorstep?"

His eyes sparkled with heart-tripping devilment. "Actually, I intend to bribe your footman into letting me in the house."

She wouldn't put it past him. "You're without conscience."

"I can't afford the luxury," he admitted with a quick shrug. "That cold fish is going to be your husband in four days if I don't make my claim rashly and boldly. If you want me to court you with poetry and flowers and mildly flirtatious parlor talk for the next six months, then call off the wedding and I'll fall

into line. But if you're not willing to do that, then you can either agree to freely give me the next few days and nights or you can spend them fending off one outrageous meeting after another."

The fact that he was here with her now suggested that he wasn't making idle threats. Thank goodness

Lawrence hadn't seen him waiting for her. That would have been a most unpleasant scene.

"And fair warning, darling," he added, leaning close, "at some point someone's bound to notice my

persistence. Especially since I'm willing to make quite a public spectacle of it. Personally, I don't give a d.a.m.n about embarra.s.sing Morris, so if you want to protect his sensibilities ..."

Her jaw went slack and she turned on the stone railing to stare at him. "That's ... that's ..."

"Blackmail," he supplied blithely, nodding again.

"Come away with me and I'll spend the next three days apologizing for it."

She turned away, fixing her gaze on the pool of light spilling out through the open doorway. What did it

say, she wondered, that he was keeping better track of the pa.s.sing time than her betrothed? What did it say that she could hear Anne Michaels's voice urging her to live boldly? And why, of all the men in the world with whom she could have fallen in love, did it have to be the only one certain to break her heart? "Rennick ..."

"Have mercy on me, Julia," he said softly, gently. "Please say yes." She could walk into her house, close the door, and refuse to open it until the time came to meet Lawrence at the church. Or she could walk in the front door, out the back, and take refuge in the homes of any number of her friends. They would hide her, vouch for her virtue. And if she took either of those courses, she'd spend the rest of her life wondering about what might have been, what she might have had. She closed her eyes and swallowed down the curious tide of tears and elation. "You don't leave me with any other choice."

"That was largely my intention," he admitted, bounding off the railing to step in front of her and extend his hands.

Julia hesitated, knowing instinctively that if she reached for him, if she put her hands in his, she would not only be committed to the folly, but she'd be forever changed at the end of it. And that, as frightening as that prospect was, she was undeniably drawn to it, to him. She lifted her hands from her lap and deliberately placed them in his. "I'm not promising you anything beyond amiable conversation, Rennick."

His fingers gently curled around her hands and the tension visibly ebbed from his shoulders, from the edges of his smile. Slowly drawing her to her feet, he murmured, "I'll accept whatever you choose to give and ask for nothing more."

The warmth and strength of his hands enveloped her, wrapping around her heart and soul, comforting her, enthralling her. Like moths to the flame.

He wouldn't have to ask, Julia realized, panic seizing her. She hadn't thought this through as thoroughly as she should have. She'd made a.s.sumptions and with Rennick that was alw%s a dangerous thing to do. She'd thought she had the strength to hold him at bay. Good G.o.d, she should have known better. "Where shall I meet you?" she asked, desperate to escape. "When?"

His brow shot up and his smile quirked. "Meet me? I know you, Julia. You're having second thoughts already. If I let you go, you'll disappear into the nearest rabbit hole and I'll spend the next three days in a maddening version of hide-and-seek. Consider ourselves met as of this moment."

"But..." she stammered, glancing into the foyer of her house. Her sanctuary.

"You can send your staff a note in the morning." He s.h.i.+fted his hold on her right hand, lacing his fingers through hers, and then released his claim to the other to reach out and silently close the door, to close off her avenue of escape. "If you want them to know where you are, you can swear them to secrecy and tell them. If you don't, we'll make up some suitable tale and no one but you and I will ever know."

"At least let me pack a few necessary things."

"You'll want for nothing," he a.s.sured her, drawing her down the steps and out into the yard. "I promise."

Rennick could feel the frantic beat of her heart, could see the apprehension in her eyes, in the tightness at the corners of her mouth. He kept her moving and kept the gentle, rea.s.suring smile firmly on his face. And with every beat of his own heart he resisted the temptation to pull her into his arms and kiss away her doubts.

He'd won the first battle in their contest; the second was just beginning. And the rules had changed yet again.

He wanted forever with her and now the safest strategy for gaining that wondrous prize was to employ just the right amount of enticement tempered by just the right amount of patience.

Lord knew she inspired the former and deserved the latter. Thirteen years was a very long time and denial and evasion were difficult habits to discard. Three days weren't as many as he'd like to have for the task, but if it proved long enough to get her to call off the wedding, he'd count himself fortunate and the effort a magnificent success.

"Where are we going, Rennick?"

Their immediate destination was his carriage, parked in the alley behind her house. But he knew that wasn't what she really wanted to know. And since it wouldn't do to tell her at this point that he was taking her to one of his hideaways, he opted for a generality. "Heaven."

"More likely to h.e.l.l in a handbasket."

She'd wanted to sound disgruntled and concerned, but the vibrancy of her voice belied the attempt.

"If it turns out that way," he a.s.sured her, gently squeezing her hand, "we'll have a grand time getting there, darling. A grand time. I promise."

"I can't help but notice that you seem to have added a new word to your vocabulary."