Free His For The Taking by Harris Channing Page A

way men gathered around the woman
had her feeling like a scrubbed sow in a silken feed sack.
    "Oh Lord Nesbitt, you’re so
very delightful," Constance cooed, her gloved
fingers coming to rest intimately on the young man’s wrist.
    Bennett Nesbitt smiled, his
handsome face alight with joy. Did her mere touch turn men of normal
temperament into grinning fools? She pulled her attention away from the pair
and glanced back at Jonathan and her stomach roiled. Had she witnessed a flash
of anger in the depths of Jonathan’s eyes? Dear Lord, was he serious about the
silly girl?
    "And you, sir?" she
asked, her voice trembling. "Are you leaning toward a wedding of your own?
I’m certain your father would approve of the match."
    "Yes, he would," Jonathan
conceded, his jaw twitching with irritation. "But I would like a wife who
can read Shakespeare and understand what old Will was talking about."
    "And since when does a woman's
mind concern you?"
    Jonathan stood and gazed down at
her, his dark eyes flashing. "If I choose to share my life with a woman, I
want to be able to carry on a conversation that goes beyond the latest fashion
and gossip."
    Julianna lifted her eyes to meet
his stern gaze. "I'm sorry if I offended you," she replied. "But
this is a side of Jonathan Denbigh that I haven't seen before."
    His expression eased and he gave
her chin a playful pinch. "Perhaps you weren't looking."
    Her lips curled into a relieved
smile. "Let me know the next time the reformed gentleman makes an
appearance. The rake has been gallivanting all over the countryside for far too
long." She said the words with humor, but her heart knew the painful truth
of them.
    Leaning in, his warm breath fanned
across her cheek, her abdomen tightening at the close contact. All playfulness
and jest slipped from his countenance. Her heart beat at a maddening pace.
"You'll be the first to know. For the truth is, Lady Julianna, I
believe…"
    Dear God, he truly did look like a
ravenous beast, ready to devour her. Had she become the only woman in the room?
Or was she little more than a ploy to force Constance to
look their way?
    Still, all joviality had
disappeared, the taunting, the teasing that exemplified their relationship,
gone. What she recognized in his eyes rivaled what she always felt when she saw
him upon entering a room. Was he going to kiss her? Right there in front of
everyone? Surely not! He was a rake but he wasn’t a fool. And what had changed
that he would even consider such a thing?
    At the dull, rhythmic tapping of
wood against wood, Julianna pulled her attention from Jonathan. No easy task,
for he'd never looked at her in such a serious manner before. Yet she
recognized the sound and it always demanded her full consideration.
    Grandmother Chesterfield entered
the parlor, her graying hair pulled in a severe knot, her silver blue eyes as
alert as any bird of prey. She focused on Julianna, her brow lifted in question
as her gaze slid back and forth between her granddaughter and Jonathan. She
puckered her lips before tapping the cane hard against the floor. As always, at
the harsh sound, all talk ceased and everyone stopped what they were doing to
look upon the Chesterfield
matriarch.
    "Abby, Michael, your carriage
is at the ready. It is time for you to grace Italy
and allow Italy
to grace you."
    Abby let out an enthusiastic
giggle. "Oh, the warm sun, the blue skies. I can hardly wait!" She
lifted the skirt of her pale gown and rushed to Julianna, blonde curls
bouncing, sapphire eyes alive with happiness.
    "Take care sister," she
said, pulling Julianna into a tight embrace. "I will write every day to
tell you about Italy.
I know how much you want to go, too."
    Julianna held tight to Abby, her
heart aching at the idea of her baby sister being so far away. But more than
that, it ached for the change that would occur when she returned to England.
For they would never again have the closeness afforded to sisters that dwelled
beneath the same roof.
    "You