Julius wasn’t downstairs at breakfast when she got there, but it looked like he had taken to his study. An urge in her wanted to go find him, but that would be too much—too large an intrusion into his space. So she ate and then made her way to the folly to set up for the day.
There was nervousness in her. This day felt... seminal. Some cards on the table last night, and now they had reached a fork in the road. Move ahead, go home, or ignore it. Those were his options, and it was all up to him now.
In truth, her encounters with men had been sparse. There had been opportunities to evolve those relationships after the initial encounter, but she hadn’t taken them. Perhaps it was fear that had held her back. But was she truly living if she let fear hold her back? It certainly wasn’t societal disapproval she feared. Maybe it was losing herself in it. Obviously, that wouldn’t be the case here. This had, by nature, a very short duration. Once she was done with the painting, she would leave, and there was no reason they should encounter each other again. It wasn’t like she would bump into him on the streets of Brighton.
For some reason, being here had made her look at her life—perhaps because Julius needed to. Maybe it was observing the choices he’d made to not live his life. Living like an insect stuck in amber. Wonderfully lifelike, simply caught in a moment. Perhaps the insect was as perfectly content in the amber as Julius was in his very controlled life.
“Are you ready?” he asked, startling her out of her thoughts. She hadn’t even seen him approach.
“Just about,” she said with a smile.
Walking to his bench, he sat down looking very uncomfortable. It was her that made him uncomfortable. Could a kiss be so very disturbing?
He tried to assume his normal position, but it just didn’t look right.
“Uhm,” she said, rising from her stool and approaching him. The look in his eyes turned more uneasy. She stopped. “You cannot look so... haunted.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he replied.
“Good, then relax. Maybe move your hand a little to the left, and...” She reached for his jaw and he didn’t look at her as she touched him and adjusted his head a little. “You are very uncomfortable around me,” she said as she returned to her chair. “Was the kiss so very terrible?”
Something seemed to fleet through his eyes. “Obviously, it wasn’t appropriate.”
“It was given freely, by both of us. I did initiate, but there was a second kiss.”
“Is there a point you are trying to make, Miss Brightly?” There was a rosiness to his cheeks that belied his colder words.
“I suppose I just wanted to say that I liked kissing you.”
Now he was lost for words for a moment. “You wish to make me your lover.” It was a statement more than a question.
“Would that be so bad?”
His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, and Jane wished she could capture him just as he was right then—flustered and disturbed. It made him look... compelling. In fact, she wanted to rush over and kiss him right then, but she wasn’t entirely sure she’d be welcome. This wasn’t an issue she wanted to force. She could. She knew she could, but she wanted him to be complicit. It was his turn to make a move.
Jane started painting, but the rosiness in his cheeks didn’t really let up. He watched her as she worked.
“Why?” he asked blatantly. “What do you think you’ll gain?”
“Not everything is a transaction. Perhaps I just want... you.”
He chuckled bitterly for a moment and that make her really sad. This marriage must have taken a horrible toll on him. Or perhaps this dismissal had existed beforehand. It could even be the cause of the cold marriage he had organized. It hurt her heart to think so.
Damnit, her determined reserve would simply have to wait. Rising from her chair, she approached him and reached for his lips with hers, taking him by the neck. It wasn’t as if he didn’t see her coming, and he hadn’t exactly fought her off.
His lips were surprisingly soft, even with the tension in him. A small groan escaped him, almost as if he gave in. But it was an awkward stance supporting such a sweet kiss. Warmth and urgency, rolled up in sheer sweetness. The taste of him was wonderful. He’d drunk something that morning, perhaps to bolster himself ahead of seeing her.
His hand floated, caught somewhere between wanting to push her away and grab her. But the softness of his lips didn’t lie. They melted for her.
There was stunned silence between them when the kiss broke. They remained in the awkward but close stance, with him sitting and her half crouching. “Am I so horrible to you?” she asked.
“No, quite the opposite, but I have nothing to offer you.” Well, that was not true, even if she was someone who sought comfort and advantage, but that wasn’t her interest.
“I don’t need you to offer me anything. Can’t this just be about the wonder of being alive?”
His eyes considered her, and his lower lip caught the light from the window. He looked utterly divine. “You look like an angel.”
“Aren’t I the one supposed to come with the platitudes?”
“This comes from a different place.”
His gaze sought her lips, which was all the encouragement she needed, and she kissed him again, moving closer, because her legs were going to cramp if she continued like this. He welcomed her as she perched herself on his thigh. It
