The Abduction of Julia by Karen Hawkins Page A

neck, and trailed her mouth along the smooth line of his jaw. His cologne laced through her like laudanum, causing a languorous heat to rise up her legs and pool between her thighs. “Announce our engagement, Nick. Send a notice to the
Gazette
.” She put her lips to his ear and whispered, “I’d take you without the money.”
    He pulled away and opened the door. ‘There, my dear, is where we differ .“
    The portal shut behind him as Therese gave vent to a shriek of fury.

Chapter 7
    Boxes upon boxes covered the foyer, some stacked so high they quavered as if the slightest jar would send them toppling. Alec had purchased his wife everything she needed to take her place in society. He should have been triumphant. Instead, Julia’s somber stare had stolen the pleasure from the entire afternoon.
    Refusing to be ruled by such prudery, he had bought even more than he’d intended. It had become a grim contest, a silent battle of wills. By the time she’d pleaded a headache, he’d suffered one as well. They had forgone the jewelers and returned home in silence, separating at the carriage with only polite, distant words.
    He rubbed his neck wearily and wondered how a pleasant pastime like shopping could turn so sour.
    Burroughs entered the foyer. “Welcome home, my lord.”
    Alec placed his hat and gloves in the butler’s outstretched hand. “Where is her ladyship?”
    “Resting in the front parlor.” Burroughs cast a deprecating look about the foyer and added dryly, “It must be fatiguing to spend an entire fortune in one afternoon.”
    Fatiguing didn’t begin to describe it. Alec gestured to the boxes. “Have Johnston carry these up to her ladyship’s room.”
    “Yes, my lord.” He hesitated. “If you’ll forgive me, her ladyship seems subdued. I hope nothing is amiss?”
    “Of course not.” Alec refused to acknowledge the butler’s concerned gaze. Frankly, he didn’t think anything was bothering Julia other than an oversized dose of puritanical zeal.
    The butler looked politely skeptical, but bowed. “Of course. Shall I bring tea?”
    “No. Perhaps later.”
    “Very well, my lord.” Burroughs turned and trod down the hall.
    Alec randomly chose a box from the tallest stack and slipped through the open doors of the parlor. Julia sat on the edge of a settee, her pale skin startling against the dull gray of her shapeless dress. The kiss of the lingering sun as it slanted through the mullioned windows touched her hair with gold. She looked young and annoyingly innocent.
    He walked toward her, the box tucked under his arm. She glanced up, clasping her gloved hands together in a nervous gesture, the leather shiny from use. There were eleven pairs of costly, delicate gloves in the boxes in the hallway. He had counted.
    Maybe that was the problem. It was too much, too soon. God knew he himself felt a little staggered by the events of the past twenty-four hours. He couldn’t begin to imagine what it felt like for Julia.
    Alec set the box on the table, determined to be cheerful even if he died in the process. “It’s rather like Christmas, isn’t it?”
    She stripped off her gloves with an economical motion and placed them on the table. “It’s like no Christmas I’ve ever had.”
    There was no request for pity in the plainly stated fact, yet he felt as if he should say something… helpful. “Julia, I know this has been difficult for you. Your whole life has been wretched—”
    “Wretched? Whatever made you think that?” She regarded him with an astonished gaze.
    “I don’t know. I just thought…” Alec subsided into silence as the green of her eyes deepened. Good God, all he’d tried to do was offer the poor girl some encouragement, and she had flared up at him as if he’d grossly insulted her.
    Julia’s chin squared. “I had a wonderful childhood. Not much money, of course. But full of love and laughter.”
    “Then you had a better childhood than I,” he retorted. “Grandfather was not a