Zeus had used his substantial size and formidable fives to teach them her protests said differently. In return, the gently bred Marianna had schooled him in manners and elocution and the ways of love from a lady’s perspective. Now he summarized those several years for Juliet. “She took me under her wing when I was new to London, imparted town bronze and instruction in the ways of women and the world. I, in turn, sheltered her for a time. Voilà tout.” That is all. “Our romantic liaison has long been extinguished and neither of us pine for its return. And they aren’t fripperies,” he added, pointing to the embroidered screen, “your masterpieces. Not at all.”
“You know?” As though wilting in shame, her fingers attempted to slide from his chest. Catching her wrist again, Zeus resisted the impulse to direct them decidedly south, and instead kept them right where they were, snug against his torso.
“What? That you create artistry with yarn I assume your clutch-fisted husband refused you? Aye. From what I’ve seen, along with yourself, your companion Miss Hales, and hairy Henry here…” Zeus raised one leg and pointed to his boot. The tassel swung freely, thanks to the cat’s current batting maneuvers. Giving the purring head a chin scratch, Zeus nudged Henry on his way and lowered his foot to the floor. “Your art is the only thing of value inhabiting this rickety tomb. Now I have inquiries to make of you and for every one you avoid answering, I shall remove another article of clothing.”
“You will?” Was that excitement in her voice? Or outrage?
“With eagerness and authority.”
“My clothing…or yours?”
“It shall be my choice. ’Tis time you learned who’ll be ‘lord’ in this household if you take me as husband.”
“Very well. Proceed, Zeus J. Tanner. Wait—tell me what the ‘J’ stands in for?”
She would have to ask that.
After a moment’s pause, he gave his standard reply. “James. Now, how many men have you told to shed their shirts?”
“Only one. You.” She answered promptly. Too promptly. He’d never get them both naked if this was how she intended to cooperate.
Yet… “Pleased to hear it.” Very pleased, in fact. “And how many have you demanded reveal their mistress’s letters?”
“You are the first I requested it of.”
“Simply making you aware, I plan to be the last. Have you ever been kissed?” She hesitated. Rather than take advantage and start stripping her bare, because he craved hearing the answer, he encouraged, “The truth now.”
“Not in such a manner I’d want to repeat the experience.”
“Yet you’re willing to trade yourself for a rich husband? To, let me see if I can recall this correctly, be an amiable wife ready to bear my children? Lady”—it came out an oath—“have you any idea what that entails?”
“I’m trying to ascertain it!” Sharp, determined nails pricked him even as her skin flamed red—every enticing, visible inch. And there were a number of them. “Have I not made it clear? I have tenants to feed. Loyal servants to remunerate!”
“You’d relinquish your freedom for these people? People who were thrust upon you because of an unfortunate marriage?”
“Certainly.” Said without any dithering at all, eyes focused straight ahead.
Of course she would. The entirety of her absurd advertisement made sense now. As did the required multiple letters of reference, her skewed questioning, even her desire to see his body. “Do I correctly assume you aim to find pleasure in the marriage bed this go-round?”
She blinked swiftly. “One can dream.”
“How did you hurt your leg?”
“I…” Juliet braved meeting his gaze again. Though his rapid-fire interrogation was discomfiting, the heat in his eyes gave her leave to continue. She stared back at his strong, stubborn, still striking-her-to-the-core visage. “I believe I’ve answered enough of your wretched questions!”
“Do you now?” She’d thought his expression hot before? At her pert response, it blazed. “Did I not warn you of the penalty if you refuse to answer?”
She stiffened her spine. The action served to emphasize her modest breasts, which drew his notice, she saw with no small amount of pleasure. “You did indeed.”
“My neckcloth,” he rasped, releasing the clamping hold he’d retained on her wrist to haul her onto his lap while taking care not to jostle her injured leg, she noted with awe. “Take it off.”
As her hands went to one end of dangling silk, his took hold at her waist, anchoring her securely atop his muscled thighs.
Juliet applied herself to unknotting what remained. Her fingers shook, not because the task was so very foreign but because of how he watched her, his remarkable eyes skimming over her features time and again, their daunting intensity belied by the slight smile quirking one side of his mouth.
His smile grew just before he released his right hand from her waist to brush several stray hairs behind her ear. The job done, his fingers lingered, traced the perimeter of the shell, then meandered down the side of her neck, the pads tapping against her skin in time with the smattering of raindrops that plopped into the upper windowpane and onto the ledge where the lower sash had been propped up to let in the day. Slow…unhurried…unending…
Juliet’s breath hitched. The knot was history, as were any pesky doubts. Up close, his spicy-fresh scent was invigorating, his sensual touch and seductive scrutiny intoxicating. Gathering one long end of silk, she leaned forward to unwind it from his neck.
“My cue, I believe,” he whispered just before his traveling hand went to her nape and tilted her head. His lips hovered over hers. “Open for me, sweet. I would taste you now.”
Her woman’s place clenched at his words, her pelvis convulsed forward, but Juliet had no time to question either action, not when he bent his head to claim her mouth.
Zeus, king of the gods. He commanded her submission with no more than a single, unhurried glide of his lips across hers. Twice more he made the journey, then his tongue stroked a horizontal swath
