Harnessed Passions Page 6

  Julia glanced toward the man who remained so still and quiet he could have been a part of the wall he leaned against. He was quite handsome and he stared at her with an expression of curious concern and something else she didn’t recognize. If he had been one of the many young men she knew in Boston, she would have assumed he found her attractive; yet that could not possibly be the truth. He was her father’s attorney, though young and very handsome, they were from two different worlds. He had nothing to gain by finding her attractive.

  The men back home claimed to appreciate her for her wit, her charm and her beauty, though she was certain they were more eager to be associated with the mayor’s family. A rich and successful businessman in his own right, her uncle had a great deal of clout and support to offer a man who became her husband. The idea of marrying anyone was out of the question and she was certain by the look in the man’s eye; marriage was the last thing on his mind.

  With a heavy sigh, she straightened up to her full height and squared her shoulders. She may be acting like a spoiled brat at the moment, but she was still the one in charge. He was, after all, a paid for employee of the family’s.

  "Before you say a word, Mr. Browning...don't," she snapped, turning her eyes away from his critical inspection. "I’m sorry you saw that. I know I shouldn't have spoken to her like that. Honor thy mother and thy father and all that sort of rubbish, but damn it she made me mad." Julia stomped her foot when she finished speaking; an act that allowed a small degree of physical release of the emotions raking her delicate body.

  "Somehow, I don't think making you angry is very hard to do," he told her softly.

  "Are you going to say it’s perfectly acceptable for the way they were acting in there?” She waved her hand toward the house where her parents had sat a few minutes earlier, laughing and joking about the future. “I think it’s morbid to plan a new relationship with your terminally ill husband; telling him everything she was going to do once he was buried. Was she planning on at least allowing the dirt to settle over his grave before running off to find another lover?”

  Daniel smiled at her with a half grin as his eyes roamed over her slender frame. She had no idea what he was thinking, but could only assume it was less than complimentary. He was not like the other men she had always known; she could always read the others like a book and knew exactly what was on their minds; perverted or promising.

  “It's always hard to see grief in other people, little princess, especially when it feels as though you're the only one suffering. Everyone deals with emotions in their own way. Your mother has struggled a very long time with these feelings of grief and hopelessness. She’s become quite good at hiding them from people."

  "Thank you very much; Mr. Know-it-all and just how many parents have you buried?"

  "Only my father," he said with an unnerving calm. Julia felt strangely effected by it and suddenly regretful for her senseless outburst.

  "I'm sorry Daniel. I didn't know."

  "There's no way you could have," he said as he continued to stare at her. "It wasn't anything like this, though; we didn't know my father was going to die. He was jumped by bandits on his way through the highlands and shot when he refused to surrender his purse. He was found on the side of the road by some local farmers who knew the family and brought him home. Fever took him and he slipped into a coma; he never woke up. He died a few days later." For some unexplainable reason, he felt the distance between them unbearable, forcing him to retreat his stance by the veranda wall. He walked cautiously to her side, kneeling down beside the settee as she sat again. He gently slid the long tresses of dark hair through his fingers, feeling the satin smoothness against his skin. He lifted it to his nose and smelled the fresh aroma of her shampoo.

  Julia had no choice but to watch his actions with baited breath; it was erotic and sensuous. Heat began to caress her in a way she had never before known; every part of her felt warm, wanting…what? She had never felt like this with any man; there was an unnamed need beginning to build within the pit of her stomach as her heart skipped a beat.

  "Your mother is dealing with her grief, the best way she knows how," he whispered to her a few moments later; his tone deep and intimate. "She's doing what she believes your father wants. She's trying hard to be strong, Princess. You can't blame her for that."

  "I can't condone the way she's acting, either," she answered in a soft tone that shook slightly, though not from grief or fear, but from what his close presence to her was causing her to feel.

  "Think about it from her aspect. The man you've loved for more nearly thirty years is taken away from you. You’ve stood by and watched him deteriorate over months of agonizing torment. You're forced to face the rest of your life alone; no one there to talk to, to discuss subjects only the two of you can relate to. Your life is empty, your bed is empty. Your future lies stretched ahead of you, while your life is buried six feet beneath the earth. How would that make you feel?" Julia frowned at the logic and wisdom he forced her to face.

  "I suppose I'd be pretty depressed," she admitted quietly. Daniel eased her hand between his two large brown ones, enveloping her long fingers in a warmth that sent shock waves coursing through her limbs to setting in her breast. His fingers slowly began caressing her wrist and she felt like she could no longer breathe; rational thought void from her mind as she stared at him, unable and unwilling to look away.

  "You're far too intelligent to allow this to come between you and your mother." Julia nodded slowly and tried to stand on legs that felt like limp noodles.

  "I need to speak with her," she told him softly, surprised that she was able to find the words to express her subconscious thoughts while her mind was reeling around his closeness to her.

  "Not so fast, Little Princess," he captured her securely yet gently pulling her against the strong wall of his chest. She inhaled sharply seeing the passion tint his eyes, turning them a dark blue. Her hands braced on his shoulders; whether for support or acceptance she wasn’t quite certain.

  Daniel’s mind was shouting at him to keep a respectable distance, while his heart was begging him to continue. He had wanted her in his arms since he first saw her in the stables; his arms ached for her, his lips pleaded with him to taste her sweetness.

  It wasn’t until he looked into those warm emerald eyes that he forgot about logic. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen; young and innocent, desirable and sexy. No man would be able to withstand her charms for long and he was far from an ordinary man; he knew of many ways to make her accept him and beg him to take her to bed. But as she placed her hands on his shoulders, he realized just how innocent she was; she touched him as though it were her first time doing so and it was at the moment when she gasped, he knew he was lost.

  Julia could feel his heart beating beneath her breast as she pressed against his chest. His warmth was intoxicating and the seductive glint in his turquoise eyes, made her pulse quicken. She felt as though her body was suddenly engulfed in sunshine; warmth spreading to every recess of her soul.

  "I don't understand," she whispered, and he chuckled lightly, kissing first her forehead and then her cheek, slowly caressing the soft flesh below her ear. The touch of his lips against her skin sent chills of anticipation through her; the lower regions of her body waking to the stirring of sensations. It was a feeling she had never experienced and even though she was weary of it, she wanted to feel more. She found the reserve strength she'd been harboring over the past several weeks deserting her, melting against the passion that burned between them.

  "I have to know what you taste like, Princess," he whispered mindlessly against her ear as his hand moved between them, softly massaging her firm breast through the soft cotton of her dress, teasing the hard nipple that poked out from beneath the layers of fabric. Julia felt a soft moan burning in her chest, escaping her throat as his tongue bathed a hot path down her throat to her collarbone. Just when she would have pushed him away, she felt the hardened reality of the ma
n's desire, press against her thigh.

  "You do not play fair, Little Princess," he whispered against her lips, his accent thick with passion. "You said my name when I wasn’t expecting it.” He gently brushed his lips against hers as he spoke. “I promise, one day I will show you how deeply that teasing affects me."

  His lips pressed down on hers, hard and demanding yet filled with the heat of his promise. The tip of his tongue traced the outline of her bottom lip then sucked it between his teeth, biting it gently until she moaned. Her audible gasp encouraged the teasing of his searching tongue as he explored the dark cavern of her mouth. It felt wrong and yet so erotic and intoxicating that she hoped he never stopped, but just as abruptly as he had embraced her, he released her. With a deep groan filled with regret, he turned and left without offering her a second glance.

  Julia collapsed back on the settee in a stunned silence. The heat of the evening breeze did nothing to help relieve the molted lava flowing within her veins. She felt alive and sadly alone in the same instant; the warmth he offered her was gone and she was left with only a deep desire to occupy the space between her chest and her heart. She had never felt like this with any man before; she wanted more, she wanted him to explore the strange stirrings burning to life within the dark recesses of the hidden, most private parts of her body.

  Her breath slowly began to seep back into her gasping lungs as her hands twisted together anxiously in her lap. The thought of Daniel’s male vigor, his sensual prowness, caused a chill of apprehension and longing to run down her spine. An unnerving sensation began to replace the warmth that was spreading through her limbs. What if he meant what he said? What if he didn’t? Could she find the strength to resist him? But then again, did she really want to and would she be able to resist him if he were to approach her again?

  Too many questions and too many feelings began to drift through her mind, all demanding her immediate respect and attention. Images and fantasies she had not had since she and Heather would dream of the future as children began to emerge inside her mind. Thoughts of acts she had only heard of, actions she wasn’t sure if she were capable of carrying through with, all flooded around her at once. Suddenly the idea of leaving Kentucky was no longer the first image that came to mind when she thought of the ranch. Putting distance between her and this handsome, seductive man was the last thing she wanted.

  The mere consideration of leaving made her chest feel heavy and her eyes fill with unshed tears; though she wasn’t sure why. Daniel Browning was her father’s lawyer; an employee. Even entertaining the notion of being with him was absurd. It would never work out, not in a million years. What would the society gossips say? What would her father say?

  With a heavy sigh, Julia stood again on very shaky legs, walking quietly into the house. The desire of finding her mother to apologize was no longer conscious, as she made her way to her pink room. Closing the door tightly she lay in the middle of the lace surrounding her bed and closed her eyes. She could still feel the pressure of his lips against hers, even as she pressed a shaky finger to them. Pulling her pillow from beneath her head, Julia pressed it against her face. If only things were different…if only he were not her father’s lawyer.

  That night, Victor Turner drew his last breath. He left the world peacefully, with a soft grin curving his thin, aged lips. He had departed this life he built for himself and his family exactly as he always said he would; with his beloved Louise, lying beside him.

  Chapter Four

  The sun shone bright through the pink pleats covering the glass windowpanes. Julia groaned at the light, pulling the covers over her head, burying her face deeper into her pillow. It was barely six o'clock in the morning and already proving to be a dreadful day. Soon her mother would knock on the hall door, just as she had when she was late getting up as a child. The only difference now was, she was not a child and this was not a school day. Even the prospect of a day with Mrs. Hodgeworth would have been preferable to what lie ahead for her.

  Slowly, she surrendered reluctantly in defeat, throwing back the blankets and sat up. It would be best if she were ready when her mother awoke, or at the very least dressed. She rubbed her red swollen eyes with the heel of her palms, swinging her legs off the side of the bed. She stretched her arms above her head and groaned as her sore muscles pulled and tensed across her shoulders and neck. Leaving the warmth of her bed, she padded barefoot across the soft pink carpet to her private wash closet.

  Bridget had been in a short time ago, filling the tub with hot water and scented oils, laying out her expensive lavender soap and a soft towel. Julia slipped out of her nightgown with a shiver, more from anticipation than the morning chill and stepped into the tub, sinking beneath the surface. The hot water stung her tender flesh and smelled like a pool of steaming flowers, easing her torment and anxieties to a tolerable degree.

  She drew a deep breath, sinking beneath the water, allowing it to momentarily engulf her in its warmth. Memories began to filter back into her mind, threatening to take over her serenity and awake the grief and tears that had been her soul mate the last few days. With a shake of her head to block the images from taking hold again, she vigorously scrubbed her legs and arms then washed her hair and stood up out of the water, wiping the scented moisture from her face. She stepped back into the chilly room, squeezing the water from her long dark tresses with the thick towel before wrapping it around her delicate frame and padding her way back into her pink room.

  She stood in front of the mirror next to her wardrobe, staring into the reflection of her swollen hazel eyes. She was going to have to face this, regardless of how much she wanted to cover her head and run. She felt like Anne Bolin being led to the gallows, reluctant to meet the executioner who would lower his axe and erase her life, yet bravely facing each step with determination and dignity.

  Her black crimson gown lay across the back of the chair between her vanity and bed like a shroud, respectable for mourning. She pulled on her stockings and slid into her chemise and bloomers, followed by the corset she despised, the heavy petticoat and finally the gown itself. Complete with a pair of black slippers, she looked as beautiful and unshakable as Victor Turner would have preferred his only daughter to appear. If she hadn’t known the turmoil churning inside her stomach, she would have believed the image staring back at her from the reflective surface of her full-length mirror, was full of confidence and unwavering sophistication.

  Julia sat down at her vanity and applied a light dusting of powder to her ivory complexion; nothing elaborate she told herself, just a hint of normalcy. She tugged her brush through the length of damp dark hair, trying to straighten out the mess her bath had made of it. It always took so long to style her hair that she rarely bothered with anything more than a bun or hair combs to hold it back off her face, sometimes even an occasional braid. She had often considered cutting it as some of her friends in Boston were doing, but never did. She liked its length and in truth, she felt it was her best asset.

  As she tied a black ribbon around the thick layer of hair at nape of her neck, a knock sounded on the door. Anticipating her mother, she merely replied to the door being unlocked and continued with what she was doing. As the door cautiously pushed open, the dark head of her younger brother poked around the corner.

  "Make sure you're decent," he teased her, through the narrow opening. "I'm too old, to see my sister naked." Julia laughed rushing to the door and pulling it open wider, unaware the young man had been leaning against it. He stumbled into the room and right into his sister's waiting arms, laughing as he hugged her to him.

  "Jeremy, you clumsy nut," she laughed, returning his embrace.

  "You do know how to make men fall for you, sis," he teased, as they sat together on the edge of the bed holding hands.

  "When did you get home?" she asked him, hoping to avoid the subject of what brought him back.

  "About three this morning, I came as soon as I got mother’s telegram. Why didn't someone contact me soon
er? I would have been here; perhaps I could have helped or done something." Julia shook her dark head, sadly.

  "There was nothing you could have done. Father had been ill for a number of years. I guess it was only a matter of time."

  "Mother told me about him leaving you the stables in his will," he said, mixed emotions echoed through his words. "If I can help I will but you should know I'm getting married once school is finished and I don't want to live in father's shadow. I don't want to become so obsessed with work I lose sight of my life and my family. He was a good man for the most part I suppose, maybe even a good husband, but as a father he left a lot to be desired. I don't want my children growing up without theirs the way we did. Never seeing him, never knowing rather or not he'd be there for your birthday or Christmas. Never really knowing who came first, his damned horses or you." Jeremy stood and walked to the open door leading to the veranda. His hands thrust deep in his pockets, his back to his sister.

  "How do you say good-bye to a man you barely knew?" he whispered in the stillness of the room.

  "I'm sorry Jeremy," she answered, feeling the same agonizing pain she knew her younger brother was suffering. "I just wish I could say something to make it all right."

  "I don't think there's anything to say that would set things right." Jeremy paused looking out the door to the morning light. Grief and years of resentment thrust themselves upon him, making him stagger mentally from its force.

  "You know," he began, his tone strong with youthful determination and pride, as he spoke to the door's frame. "I've spent my whole life trying to make the name Turner, something I could be proud of. I wanted to come back and show the old man that I didn't need his damned money to succeed. I swore a long time ago, I'd never be like him. My family would come first, above all else. My wife and kids would know I loved them. They'd never wonder where I spent my nights."