Page 36 of A Most Unsuitable Lover
“Indeed, he is. I saw him perform the lead inHamletthis Season and it was quite the performance. I confess I cried right there in the theater for his poor tortured soul.”
“It must have been quite the experience,” Ian said with a kind smile.
“Oh, it certainly was!”
Just then, he caught Juliette watching him. He met her eyes and, rather boldly, refused to be the first to look away. Heat crackled and sparked between them, instantly causing his breeches to grow too tight and his pulse to throb in his skull. Deep inside, something roared to life and demanded satisfaction. It wanted to sink inside of Juliette over and over again and keep her with him always. It was futile. It was foolish. But there was no reasoning with that slumbering beast now that it had been awakened.
One of Juliette’s perfectly shaped dark brows rose in a question and Ian replied with a subtle inclination of his head. Whatever it was, he would walk through fire for her.
Ian turned his attention back to Miss Finchley to continue their conversation about plays and dramatic productions.
∞∞∞
Ian stood outside a wide mahogany door, its polished brass knob so shiny he could see a warped version of his reflection staring back at him. His heart was pounding fitfully, almost concerningly, as he debated whether to knock or listen to his better judgment and walk away.
His left hand held the small scrap of parchment, upon which had been written Gaelic instructions to this very room. The note had been slipped to him beneath Juliette’s curled fingers as he’d bent over her hand to bid her goodnight.
He’d been surprised to feel it hidden there, but he’d masked his reaction and accepted it before secreting it into an inner pocket of his coat. He’d excused himself for the evening very soon thereafter and escaped into the hall to read it.
Staidhre an t-seirbhiseach. An treas làr. An ceathramh doras air an taobh chlì. Meadhan oidhche.
Ian’s breath had died in his lungs.Servant’s stairs. Third floor. Fourth door on the left. Midnight.
He’d spent the next hour-and-a-half pacing his room in indecision and anxiety. She wanted to see him, that much was clear, but what did it mean? What did she hope would happen?
The previous day in his rooms had been their most private of interludes, but it had also been spontaneous. She had some plan in that beautiful head of hers, and Ian was unsure whether or not he should go through with it…especially now as he was realizing the depth of his feelings for her. This could only lead to disaster.
But his body did not seem to agree. At three minutes to midnight, Ian’s legs carried him from his room to the disguised doorway leading to the servants’ stairwell. He climbed the narrow flight to the floor above his where the family rooms lay. He didn’t remember counting the doors, but he found himself face-to-face with the one behind which held one of his greatest desires.
He raised his hand and rapped one knuckle on the doorframe.
∞∞∞
Juliette’s heart stopped at the slight knock on the door to her bedchamber. She’d hoped to hear it. She’d been waiting for nearly two hours for it. But, now that it had happened, it was as shocking as gunfire beside her head.
She had to shake herself and force her feet to move. She’d asked for this; she had dreamt about it. Nothing else had occupied her mind beyond imagining that moment when she found Ian standing there waiting for her.
His head was tilted in a charmingly unsure way—as if she hadn’t been the one to invite him there, to have been the one to provide him with directions to where she awaited. She hooked a finger in his waistcoat and tugged him forward, closing the door behind him.
His breathing was shaky as she guided him further into the rose-colored room.
“What am I doing here, Juliette?” Ian rasped as she slipped her hands into his. Despite his words, he wove their fingers together. There was something so achingly sweet about it—a familiarity she’d never even considered and now realized she did not wish to live without.
“My education is lacking in one area,” Juliette began, hoping her voice was steadier than her stomach.
“Your note was well done.”
“I do not mean my Gaelic.” Ian’s mouth snapped shut; the knot in his throat bobbed. “I know there is more I do not know, and I wish to know all of it.”
“This is not something that can be undone.”
“Have I once shown any regret for anything we have done, Ian?” He averted his eyes and she knew his resolve was waning. She was winning. “I will not regret this either.”
“I am not the man—”
“You areexactlythe man…theonlyman I want this with.” She brought his hand to her face and pressed a lingering kiss to the palm. His eyes shuttered and his lips parted. She could practically scent his desire on the air. “Unless you do not want this.”
Ian yanked her to him with a suddenness that made her gasp. His thick thumb traced her lower lip. “Lass. I’ve wanted nothing more in my life…and I’ve dreamt of nothing else since kissing this mouth of yours.”
