My Fair Groom (The Sons of the Aristocracy) (19 page)

Chapter 24

Kisses in the Garden

Alistair headed for the vestibule, thinking he would exit the house through the front door and walk around to the alley and stables behind the house, but he remembered the back door he’d been on his way to use when Lady Mayfield intercepted him. Making his way down the long hallway, he was surprised when he passed only one footman and a housemaid. He wondered why the house seemed so quiet on the ground level and then considered that, given the late afternoon time, Lord and Lady Mayfield were probably at Hyde Park for the fashionable hour – his lordship had requested his yellow phaeton be readied for his use. Cringing, he wondered if the head groom would be angry that he wasn’t available to help with the horses. Lady Julia claimed she had cleared his absence with Mr. Grimes, but Alistair still felt a bit guilty that he wasn’t in the stables to help.

The back door opened into an enclosed garden, the scents of herbs and late spring flowers assaulting his nose.
The kitchen garden
, he thought as he passed a bush of rosemary and several bundles of basil. He had made his way through most of the the garden and was almost to the back wall when he realized he wasn’t alone.

Lady Julia was in the garden.

Seated on a stone bench in the area where roses would probably bloom later in the summer, Julia’s attention seemed focused on something across the garden path, her expression not giving away if she was pleased or not with what she saw. She wore no bonnet or other head covering. Glints of gold shown in the curls atop her head. A flutterby hovered nearby, but she gave it no regard, her attention still elsewhere.

Knowing he could not avoid her – he didn’t wish to avoid her, since he owed her an apology – Alistair slowed his step and finally turned to face her, his body suddenly in her line of sight. Alistair bowed. “May I join you, my lady?” he asked quietly, secretly wishing he could have just taken the place next to hers and not said a word. It was a shame to break the stillness that had settled over the garden.

Julia gave a start as her eyes lifted to meet his. “Oh!” she managed to get out. When she attempted to stand, Alistair reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. “There is no need for my lady to stand on my behalf,” he said as he moved to sit next to her.

Her eyes widening at his impropriety – he had placed a hand on her! – Julia was about to rebuke him, but the groom continued speaking.

“Especially when I owe you an apology. No,” he corrected himself. “Two apologies,” he said as he lowered his eyes. “First, please pardon my having ... touched you. You seemed a million miles away, and I didn’t wish to intrude on your reverie,” he claimed, keeping his voice low.

“I ... I was, I suppose,” Julia admitted, her head turning to take in the man who sat next to her. He was nearly a head taller and so much broader in shoulder than she that he had to lean to his right a bit so that their shoulders didn’t collide. “Apology accepted, of course,” she added quickly, taking in a quick breath and letting it out slowly. “I was ... woolgathering,” she admitted then.

Alistair noticed how she held her hands clasped together in her lap, hands he knew were small and delicate but that could play piano-forté and stitch exquisite embroideries. They could probably draw and paint and create eddies of exquisite pleasure just beneath his skin, as well.

Alistair had to quickly blink to erase the suddenly erotic picture his mind had painted that very moment. A painting of her formed in his mind’s eye, an image of her stretched out naked and pale against the deep blue of his bed’s counterpane, her hair splayed out on the pillows beneath her body, her breasts topped with ruched buds that begged to be kissed, and her lips slightly apart, left so from having said his name in greeting. “Alistair,” she had said, his name barely a whisper as one of her fingers drew circles above his groin and moved into the dark curly hair that surrounded his hardening manhood. “Take me. I am yours,” he heard her say, the words so ethereal he couldn’t be sure she’d actually spoken them aloud.

“Oh, Christ!” he said suddenly, straightening on the bench and tearing his gaze from her face.

Startled by his outburst, Julia leaned away from him, even scooting away from him until her bottom was at the very edge of the bench, while her eyes did a perfect imitation of a black and blue saucer. “I hardly think my admission of woolgathering requires such a ... such a
curse!
” she countered, wondering if she should be merely annoyed by his swearing or frightened by it. But she had seen something cross his face just the moment before, something that made her think he was woolgathering, too.

And making woolgathering look as if it was a rather pleasant experience.

Alistair rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Now I owe you yet
another
apology, my lady,” he responded with a sigh. “I just remembered something I need to do in the stables. Something ... I meant to do earlier this afternoon,” he lied, hoping he could cover his outburst with a simple explanation. “I feel a bit ... guilty at having left Mr. Grimes to do all the work during our lesson,” he added before turning to regard her.

Julia was shaking her head. “Mr. Grimes assured me he could get by without you this afternoon, and any other time your presence is required by ...” She paused a moment, the thought of Alistair being available to her whenever she pleased a rather ... pleasant one. Available for dancing. Available for trysts in the garden, or in her bedchamber, where she could remove all his clothes and admire his bronzed body as it lay spread out on her bed, admire his lips as they kissed every inch of her, his fingers as they traced all the curves of her body and made their way to that space between her thighs, where at this very moment her dark curlies were dampened by the sudden lust she felt.

“Oh, Lord,” she spoke suddenly, her face suddenly turning away in an effort to ride her blushing cheeks.

Alistair frowned, causing one eyebrow to angle down on his forehead. “I don’t really consider my work in the stables to be the Lord’s work, my lady,” Alistair replied with a shake of his head.

Julia shook her own head, wondering how she could have allowed herself to imagine such a ... scandalous liaison with the groom!

Seeing an opportunity to make things right with Julia, Alistair cleared his throat. “I apologize for saying what I did in the ballroom,” he said suddenly, remembering just then what he’d been thinking when she’d become so enraged at him. Her entire being had come alive, the color of her face pinking up in a most attractive display of anger and frustration, her cornflower blue eyes wide and framed with those long lashes that were at the moment resting atop her beautiful cheekbones, her chest thrust out so the tops of her breasts were pressed up and silhouetted in the fabric of her bodice.

He’d been thinking the most effective means of calming her down would have been to capture her lips with his and silence her with a kiss that would leave her breathless and boneless and his to do with as he pleased.

No one else had done that to her, he was sure. No one else had tamed her or gentled her anger with soft words and softer kisses. Perhaps he would have to try
that
approach the next time she raised her voice at him.

Or not, considering she would probably report his rakish behavior to the head groom, and he would lose his position as a result.

Julia turned her head so she could better see him. “What did you ... what did you
really
mean when you said, ‘There will be no
satisfying
you?’ and
‘That
is your problem’?” she wondered, stilling herself so she wouldn’t lash out at him if his response angered her. In the ballroom, the accusation had angered her at first, but upon reflection, she couldn’t feel anything but hurt by it, as if he’d made the comment as a cut direct. But he was a groom! What right had he to judge her? Or assume she ‘never’ – whatever it was he thought she hadn’t done.

Alistair shook his head quickly. “My lady, I ... I meant nothing by it, really,” he replied, his head still shaking from side to side.

Not convinced, Julia huffed. “You were
angry
with me. You ... meant
something
by it,” she pressed, determined to get the groom to admit what he’d been thinking when he spoke the words that she found hurt her more than any others she had heard that Season. Even Penelope Winstead’s comment about the dress she’d worn to Lady Torrington’s garden party last fall hadn’t hurt as much as what he’d said to her in the ballroom.

Sighing, Alistair cocked his head to one side. He couldn’t admit it had to do with a momentary thought he had of her spread out on his bed, of his imaginary attempts to bring her to orgasm with nothing more than the fingers of one hand and her subsequent disappointment when he failed at the last moment, something always going wrong or interfering with his ministrations. If given the chance, though, he was sure he could pleasure her until she was quite thoroughly satisfied. Satisfied enough that she would ask for more later. But he couldn’t exactly tell her his comment had anything to do with imaginary sexual encounters.

How then to explain himself? “You have probably never ... been kissed,” Alistair finally stated, thinking he should shut his eyes so he wouldn’t witness whatever her reaction was about to be.

Either she would start to cry, or she would explode.

Already prepared for the worst, Julia had forced her mouth to close, forced herself to take one breath ... two breaths before her chest seemed to tighten and tears pricked the corners of her eyes. He
had
meant to hurt her by his comment, she realized. And now that the words were repeating themselves over and over again in her head, she found she had no answer for him.

Of course, she hadn’t been
kissed!

Did he think respectable young ladies of the
ton
should be kissed before they were betrothed? That they should indulge in such behavior before they had accepted a man’s offer of marriage? And could she really believe he meant only that she had never been
kissed?
Because, for just a moment there, she thought he was imagining far more than just kissing. She was quite sure he was imagining her naked on her bed and utterly and completely at a loss as to how to make love to him. Because, at that same moment, she had imagined him completely naked on his bed, his bronzed body hard and ready and waiting for her to ... to do
what
, she wasn’t quite sure.

I never ...

Julia had to suppress the urge to let out a sound of frustration.

How
dare
he?

She could feel anger replace the feeling of hurt that clutched her heart, making it hard to breathe, making it hard to keep her temper in check, making it hard to keep the tears from dripping from her widened eyes.

Alistair watched as Julia’s face changed, watched as tears welled up in her eyes, watched as she struggled to maintain control over her growing anger.
Tears
and
an explosion?
he wondered suddenly.
She’s about to blow!

Which meant there was only one thing he could do.

Kiss her.

It would take her mind off her anger toward him, and she might even like it. She
would
like it, he decided. She would like it so much, she would thank him for it, probably ask that he do it again. And again.

Moving a hand behind her head, Alistair suddenly pulled Julia toward him as he leaned his head to one side and placed his lips over hers, pressing a bit too hard at first. If he’d meant to punish her, he found he couldn’t, not when she’d been so hurt by his comment. He softened the kiss, allowing her to take a quick, startled breath, but not letting her lips get away from his. Sliding his hand down the back of her head, he splayed his fingers along her neck while he threaded his other hand under her arm to capture the side of her waist. He resisted the urge to pull her onto his lap – she was slight enough he could have easily lifted her from where he sat. But a slight moan captured his attention, and he felt her lips respond to his, felt her resistance subside a bit, realized one of her hands was lifting to his shoulder. He wondered if she would wrap her hand around to the back of his neck and slide her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, use her nails to comb through his hair, lean closer to him so her breasts would be pressed against his chest ...

But the hand that had been reaching for his shoulder suddenly made contact, shoving him so hard, the kiss was broken and Julia was staring at him from clear across the bench.

How did she get away so fast?
Alistair was left wondering as he blinked and tried to figure out what had happened. The look on Julia’s face sobered him quickly, though. He had never seen such an angry expression on a woman before.

Not even on his mother.

“How
dare
you?!” Julia whispered fiercely, her hands planted firmly on the bench as if she needed to anchor herself to the stone.

Alistair’s eyes widened. “My lady ...”

“
Don’t
say a word,” Julia warned, one hand coming up so a single finger could wag at him. “Not a word.” And as fast as she could, Julia was off the bench and hurrying to the back door of the house, seemingly oblivious to the snags her skirts suffered as they caught on the shrubs and branches she passed in her haste to get away. Alistair felt more than heard the back door slamming shut.

Letting out the breath he’d been holding, Alistair rolled his eyes and leaned forward on the bench. He hadn’t meant to illicit any kind of response from the chit. He’d only thought to ... prevent the tears and explosion he knew she was about to exhibit.

And he had, to some degree.

But his body’s response to her had been completely unexpected. The way she felt beneath his hands, beneath his lips.
All woman
. Soft and pliable, dainty and delectable, curvy and sensual. And her scent! If he breathed deep enough, he was sure he could still capture the scent of lilies in the air. At least his arousal no longer showed behind the fall of his breeches. Her sudden admonition and quick retreat had taken care of that.

Why had she grown so angry?
He was sure she was returning the kiss, sure he heard her soft moans of appreciation.

He briefly wondered if he would ever see her again.

Should she tell her father what he had done, Alistair was sure he would be dismissed. Tamping down the bit of panic he felt at the possibility of losing his position, he had to remind himself that all would not be lost – his mother missed him. The thought of having to move in with her should he need a place to stay had him feeling panicked again, though.