“What’s this fellow’s name?” he asked, and knelt on one knee to rub the foxhound’s head, behind his ears, and down the back of his thinning fur.
“I call him York, but I don’t think it matters. He doesn’t hear very well and no longer bothers to be inquisitive about most things.”
“He has a few years on him.”
“Yes,” Julia agreed softly, thinking of her fondness for the old hound. “I have no idea how many.”
“So you haven’t had him since he was a pup?”
“No, only a little over a year. I’m glad to see him moving around today. The journey from Sprogsfield this week was hard on his bones. But he’s getting up and walking better now that he’s had time to recover from being curled upon the floor of a coach for the better part of two days.”
Mr. Stockton gave her a quizzical look and rose. “Does he belong to the duke?”
As if sensing he’d gotten all the attention he was going to get, York turned away from them and slowly walked down the corridor toward the breakfast room.
“Heavens, no. I found him on a street here in London. He was so thin, dirty, and hungry, of course. I brought him home with me. Since I was a child I’ve had a fondness for old dogs. They’re so gentle and seldom seek attention like the younger ones. I only take in strays who are older and can’t take care of themselves anymore. I enjoy giving a little comfort to them in the last years of their lives—no matter how long that might be. When York is gone, I’ll find another to care for.”
Mr. Stockton’s steady gaze didn’t give away his thoughts. All resolve she had not to be tempted by the adventurer fell away from her as easily as rose oil gliding across her skin.
She didn’t know why, but she felt as if he wanted to reach over and touch her cheek, brush his thumb across her lips, and then let his fingertips trickle down her neck while kissing her softly. And she would have let him, but he made no move to do so. It was odd, but she had the feeling he wanted her to make the first move. She was tempted to do just that even though it was foolish to think about the possibility of doing such a dangerous thing. Mrs. Desford could walk past the doorway at any moment.
“I’m not sure I’ve ever met a lady quite like you before, Lady Kitson. Freeing trapped butterflies and saving old dogs. You obviously have a very tender heart.”
She did have a love for all animals and couldn’t bear to see them mistreated or neglected. “You forgot educating girls, Mr. Stockton,” she said with a hint of pride in her tone. “With the school, I’m helping improve their lives now and for their future. They will have the skills of a seamstress when they finish and will be able to take care of themselves, should they ever need to do so. I’m quite pleased about that accomplishment, too.”
He stepped in closer to her. “I don’t know how I could have forgotten that.”
“You probably have no idea why I’m so interested in the school, do you?”
“I know,” he answered softly. “I wasn’t without news of London while away. I received mail in India and Turkey. I mentioned my childhood friend who will be getting married, Wiley Calder. He and my manager, Mr. Urswick, keep in touch with me when I’m away. Whenever letters or financial papers were sent to me, newsprints and other readings from home they thought might be of interest were always included.”
Julia puffed out a soft laugh. “By other, do you perhaps mean the gossip pages and scandal sheets? Do you dare admit you read them?”
He met her teasing with all the confidence a rogue should have. “I read each one and was happy to get them. No matter how far away I was, how eager I was to see different places and experience the different customs in the world, I was always eager to receive news from England.”
“I’m sure I would be that way, too. Why do you stay away for so long each time?”
“There has never been a reason not to. Mr. Urswick is the most intelligent man I’ve ever met. He’s a genius with numbers and details. I trust him to manage the day-to-day business of my company.”
“You are fortunate to have him and such trust in what he does for you.”
Mr. Stockton nodded.
With conflicting emotions, she said, “You didn’t come over here just to tell me you went back to get the butterfly net, did you?”
“No,” he said with remarkable ease, taking a step closer to her. “I wanted to see you again.”
A delicious tingling sensation rippled through her chest and spiraled down to her abdomen. She’d wanted to see him again, too, and was glad he’d admitted it even though she couldn’t. He was a rogue with no ties and no restrictions. He could be forward. She liked that.
She didn’t need to have what he was implying spelled out for her. It was probably scandalous of her to want to know. Yet she couldn’t seem to stop the word “Why?” from slipping off her tongue.
He remained at his comfortable stance and offered, “I wanted to know if seeing you today would make me feel the same way I felt when I first saw you standing in the tree.”
Unable to bear not knowing, she asked, “What is the answer to that?”
“I do feel the same way.” His gaze was intense but his voice soft.
Her throat tightened, shortening her breaths even more. His answer led to more questions she didn’t need to ask, didn’t need to know the answer to. He admitted his attraction to her was as real as hers was to him. That should have been enough. She didn’t need to fuel the fire going on inside her, but one thought was saying, Don’t ask anything else. He is nothing but a danger to you. Show him the door. But another, stronger voice was demanding she ask him, How do I make you feel? Tell me everything you are feeling and make me yearn for your touch.
Their gazes stayed locked together. The seconds tumbled by, one after the other. Neither of them moved. There was a warm glow in his eyes that made her feel exceedingly precious, wanted and longed for.
“What did you feel when you saw me yesterday, Mr. Stockton?”
“Desire for you. I still want you in my arms. I want to feel your lips on mine. You felt the same for me, too.”
Yes, she’d felt heavenly desire for this seafaring man who had reportedly fought pirates, dueled gentlemen, and dined with monarchs around the world.
All of that made him an exciting man to think about, to wonder what his touch and kisses would be like, but that wasn’t all that drew her to him. She had no knowledge of whether those stories were true. She desired the man before her now, who understood a little boy’s eagerness to be tall and brightened Brina’s day with a few kind and simple words about a husband most had already forgotten.
Julia’s heartbeat went from slow and steady to hard and fast. She had no idea how long Mr. Stockton would be in London. It might be only a short time before he headed back to sea. If she was ever going to defy the duke’s decree she rebuff all men, Mr. Stockton was exactly the kind of man she needed to be involved with. He wouldn’t court her openly, with thoughts of marriage on his mind—something she couldn’t possibly consider. His sojourner’s way of life would never fit in with that. Their desire was mutual. Could she dare think about a safe and secret way to be with him so she could feel the strong, sure touch of his hand against her skin?