charming, with a slight mischievous streak.
Attractive then, he’d grown into a man who exuded a raw sensuality. A certain knowledge lingered in his eyes, the way he moved, the way he spoke. Rumors abounded about his many conquests, though there had never been any real confirmation, at least not from the little gossip she’d heard. He chose his lovers discreetly and most likely left them more than well satisfied.
“You used to call me Garrett,” he continued when she hadn’t answered. “Quite often, if I remember correctly, when you and your husband would visit our country house for the summer.”
“Well, yes. But it wouldn’t be proper to take such liberties in public.” Not only would it not be proper, but she wanted to see Garrett’s reaction.
“Always polite, aren’t you, Julia?” He slid his hand from her waist to trail it down her back in a soothing gesture, and her breath lodged in her throat. “I apologize if I went too far.”
“No.” She shook her head, curling tendrils of hair bouncing against her cheeks. “There’s no need for an apology.”
His other hand tightened about hers, and he slowed his steps. “Come with me.”
“What?”
“Come with me. Please.” He smiled. “I rarely beg, so consider yourself special.”
“Bedingfield, I don’t know what you’re about, but—”
“Please.” His smile disappeared. Ravenous lust flared in his eyes, shimmered off his tense body in waves that wrapped all around her, suffusing her with heat and longing.
“All right.” Her voice trembled the slightest bit, and she silently cursed her nervousness. “I wanted to speak to you regarding a private matter anyway—”
A little gasp escaped when he jerked on her hand and led her through the crowd. He escorted her off the dance floor and toward the open doors to the terrace. She hurried to keep up with his long strides, and when they went outside, the late-spring breeze cooled her skin.
Lit with a few torches and a smattering of candles on the round tables, the space was practically deserted, for the evening had just begun.
Bedingfield didn’t linger but took her down the stairs and into the garden, choosing a meandering path that grew darker with every step. Beneath their feet, the gravel walkway crunched, and the leaves of the trees rattled with the breeze.
She came to a complete stop, digging her slippered feet into the ground so he had no choice but to stop as well. “Where are you taking me?”
He turned to look at her, his sharp features defined by moonlight. The silvery glow spilled across his skin, casting him partly in shadow and giving him an aura of mystery. Her breath lodged in her throat at his dark beauty, and he squeezed her hand gently as if to soothe her. Yet his touch didn’t soothe. It made her heart beat faster, her nipples tingle and the area between her legs dampen. Her lips parted, she was finally ready to ask the daring question that had haunted her all night, but he spoke first.
“I wanted to be alone with you.” One tug of his hand and she toppled toward him. She reached out to steady herself and landed with her hands on his firm chest and her fingers curling into the fine material of his jacket. His arm came around her waist, and he hauled her close. So close she could feel the pounding of his heart beneath her hands and see the moonlight glinting in his eyes.
“Funny, since I wanted the same thing.” When she saw his pleasant surprise, triumph surged over her bold confession. Surely he was the one who approached the ladies first. Had he ever had a woman solicit an affair from him before? Was she the first?
Or perhaps he wasn’t interested after all. Might she have read his intentions incorrectly? Did he want her? Did he? Oh my, it had been so long, and her skills in the art of seduction—or lack thereof—left much to be desired.
“Now I’m intrigued.” Bedingfield bent his head and brushed her temple with his cheek. He was so tall and broad
Attractive then, he’d grown into a man who exuded a raw sensuality. A certain knowledge lingered in his eyes, the way he moved, the way he spoke. Rumors abounded about his many conquests, though there had never been any real confirmation, at least not from the little gossip she’d heard. He chose his lovers discreetly and most likely left them more than well satisfied.
“You used to call me Garrett,” he continued when she hadn’t answered. “Quite often, if I remember correctly, when you and your husband would visit our country house for the summer.”
“Well, yes. But it wouldn’t be proper to take such liberties in public.” Not only would it not be proper, but she wanted to see Garrett’s reaction.
“Always polite, aren’t you, Julia?” He slid his hand from her waist to trail it down her back in a soothing gesture, and her breath lodged in her throat. “I apologize if I went too far.”
“No.” She shook her head, curling tendrils of hair bouncing against her cheeks. “There’s no need for an apology.”
His other hand tightened about hers, and he slowed his steps. “Come with me.”
“What?”
“Come with me. Please.” He smiled. “I rarely beg, so consider yourself special.”
“Bedingfield, I don’t know what you’re about, but—”
“Please.” His smile disappeared. Ravenous lust flared in his eyes, shimmered off his tense body in waves that wrapped all around her, suffusing her with heat and longing.
“All right.” Her voice trembled the slightest bit, and she silently cursed her nervousness. “I wanted to speak to you regarding a private matter anyway—”
A little gasp escaped when he jerked on her hand and led her through the crowd. He escorted her off the dance floor and toward the open doors to the terrace. She hurried to keep up with his long strides, and when they went outside, the late-spring breeze cooled her skin.
Lit with a few torches and a smattering of candles on the round tables, the space was practically deserted, for the evening had just begun.
Bedingfield didn’t linger but took her down the stairs and into the garden, choosing a meandering path that grew darker with every step. Beneath their feet, the gravel walkway crunched, and the leaves of the trees rattled with the breeze.
She came to a complete stop, digging her slippered feet into the ground so he had no choice but to stop as well. “Where are you taking me?”
He turned to look at her, his sharp features defined by moonlight. The silvery glow spilled across his skin, casting him partly in shadow and giving him an aura of mystery. Her breath lodged in her throat at his dark beauty, and he squeezed her hand gently as if to soothe her. Yet his touch didn’t soothe. It made her heart beat faster, her nipples tingle and the area between her legs dampen. Her lips parted, she was finally ready to ask the daring question that had haunted her all night, but he spoke first.
“I wanted to be alone with you.” One tug of his hand and she toppled toward him. She reached out to steady herself and landed with her hands on his firm chest and her fingers curling into the fine material of his jacket. His arm came around her waist, and he hauled her close. So close she could feel the pounding of his heart beneath her hands and see the moonlight glinting in his eyes.
“Funny, since I wanted the same thing.” When she saw his pleasant surprise, triumph surged over her bold confession. Surely he was the one who approached the ladies first. Had he ever had a woman solicit an affair from him before? Was she the first?
Or perhaps he wasn’t interested after all. Might she have read his intentions incorrectly? Did he want her? Did he? Oh my, it had been so long, and her skills in the art of seduction—or lack thereof—left much to be desired.
“Now I’m intrigued.” Bedingfield bent his head and brushed her temple with his cheek. He was so tall and broad
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