Theresa Romain - Season for Temptation

His hands roamed down her back and cupped her bottom, pressing her against him. Those hands positively stole the thought right out of her.

Julia felt warm, liquid, and eager, savoring his touch, allowing it to raise fires inside her even as her own hands began to explore his body with passionate curiosity.

Then an idea bobbed into her head that she was sure James would like, and she would, too.

After all, they were going to be married so soon. . what would be the harm in anticipating the ceremony, just once more?

“I’ll show you what we can do with our time,” she said, and with a gentle shove, she laid him out, amazed, on the study’s sofa and then turned the lock of the door.

Simone remained lost for two hours before she returned to the study to check on mademoiselle. Putting a cautious ear to the door, she quickly whipped her head back at the sounds from within.

“Nom d’un nom,” she murmured, a small smile playing on her lips as she scooted away from the door. “All is well. They will certainly be getting married now.”

And then she became dutifully lost again for several more hours.

The weather, in the days before the wedding between James, Viscount Matheson, and Miss Julia Herington, turned unromantically cool and overcast. Watching the skies, the Stonemeadows tenants reflected with avid superstition among themselves as to whether this was some type of omen for “the young miss’s” wedding day.

The bride and groom never even noticed the clouds, however; they were too wrapped up in one another and in the press of final arrangements. The five days that elapsed between Julia’s visit to Nicholls and the marriage ceremony seemed to them like an eternity, even though they hardly left one another’s presence (except to sleep, of course, since under the supervision of Lord and Lady Oliver, strict propriety as to bedroom matters was observed).

These five days were needed to bring an eager Gloria and her daughters from London and establish them in Stonemeadows Hall’s best guest bedrooms. Besides the usual inhabitants of the hall, these were the only guests, since the hurried nature of the wedding made it desirable to keep it as selective as possible.

James’s letter of invitation to his sister had included a rather ungracious postscript about how he supposed his mother could come to the wedding as well if she wanted to. Lady Matheson declined the honor of this invitation, finding herself not up to the rigors of the journey.

“Laziness,” decided Lady Irving. “Laziness, and vulgarity.”

In her stead, however, the dowager sent the couple a most unexpected wedding present.

Julia first opened the package, which Gloria brought from London with no idea as to its contents. When she saw what it was, her mouth fell open in surprise. She poked her finger into it to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her. Could it really be just what it seemed? Wasn’t it more likely that James’s mother would send her an artillery shell, disguised with a thin layer of confection and ready to explode in her face when she cut into it?

No, it was a plum pudding, all right. Interesting.

She carried this unusual gift around the house, looking for James, until she finally found him sorting through some correspondence. As she presented it to him, explaining its source, she added, “This should prove how much I love you. I didn’t even cut a slice.”

James was bemused at first, turning the partially wrapped sweet around in his hands as if he expected it to transform into a croquet ball.

Finally he shrugged and handed it back to Julia. “I suppose this is a peace offering of sorts. Do you remember when you came to dine at Christmas, and there was that—”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Julia cut him off, embarrassed to remember her faux pas in pointing out the absence of her favorite dessert on the viscountess’s table. “I know what you mean.”

Her cheeks turned pink, but she had to ask him. “Do you think she is being kind, or is she trying to remind me that I tend to say the wrong thing? Because I know I do, and maybe she is hinting that I won’t serve the title well. But I think I will, or at least I will certainly try my best, because I know how to run a large home, and of course there is your man of business to help with much of the estate management.”

James dropped a reassuring kiss on his bride-to-be’s lips, stopping their flow of words. “Everything you say is delightful,” he replied. “Even when it makes no sense. And I agree that you will make an excellent wife and viscountess. I don’t know what my mother meant by sending an unseasonal pudding, but let us assume it was kindly meant. It might be nice to serve it at the wedding breakfast.”

Satisfied, Julia rose to leave James alone with his letters again. As she reached the doorway, he added, “Except for that piece you poked your finger into, of course.”

So they were married, quietly and cozily, on a gray March morning. In honor of Julia’s long-lost father, they had arranged for the humble parish curate to officiate the wedding, a fact which, when drawn to Lady Oliver’s attention, caused her to clap her hands in mistyeyed delight.

The bride wore the ivory silk ball gown made for her by Madame Oiseau, the same one she had worn so recently to the ball at Alleyneham House. Lady Irving, looking at her niece before the wedding, told her that it was completely unsuitable.

Julia, feeling not a bit of pre-wedding nervousness, was unbothered by this statement. “Is it vulgar? Unladylike?” she asked, not bothering to hide her dimples.

The countess looked at her suspiciously. “I suppose it isn’t as bad as all that,” she allowed. She took in the details of the gown, and her expression turned knowing. “I dare say you have your reasons for choosing that one, anyway.”

Indeed she did; Julia felt warm just from the memory. The last time she was in this gown, she and James had first admitted their love for one another. Now, little more than a week later, they would pledge their love forever. It seemed only right.

Besides, it was the most beautiful gown she owned, and a girl did want to look her best for her wedding.

Louisa attended the bride in a gown of the pale primrose shade that suited her rich coloring so well. She had been unfailingly supportive of Julia through what had been one of the strangest and most trying weeks the sisters had ever lived through. When Julia begged her to wear her Helen of Troy costume for the marriage ceremony, though, she put her foot down.

“I won’t do it,” she said, though her eyes were twinkling with amusement. “I’d look ridiculous. Besides, it would be very odd for people to be thinking of Twelfth Night, considering how there’s been a change of bride since then.”

She made this statement without a hint of resentment or constraint, but Julia deemed it best not to press the issue. Mainly because that would then give Louisa cause to demand that Julia wear the terrible fortuneteller costume at her own wedding someday, and she would have to stand up next to her beautiful sister looking like a tomato.

Of all the possible uncomfortable situations at a wedding, that of the former fiancée serving as a bridesmaid to the hastily traded bride — who also happened to be her sister — held great potential to be among the most awkward. Because of the small, close-knit nature of the wedding party, however, everyone carried it off without the least bit of self-consciousness.

Julia granted much of the credit for the success to her sister, who, once she broke her engagement, truly did feel that she had no further hold on James, or he on her. Following the ceremony, Louisa congratulated the bride and groom both with heartfelt embraces. To James, she said simply, “You’ve made the right choice. She truly shall be your better half, as I never could have been.”

James smiled gratefully. “I’ll accept the slander to myself, but not to you.” He cleared his throat, and added in a choked voice, “I’ll be very proud to be a part of your family.”

“Not just that,” Julia chimed in. “She’ll be with us quite a bit of the time, I hope. That is”—she looked questioningly at Louisa—“if you still want to catalogue the library?”

Louisa drew in an eager breath, and looked from Julia to James. “Really? I wouldn’t be in the way?”

James put his arm around Julia and gave her an affectionate squeeze. To Louisa, he nodded his willingness and replied, “If you can keep your sister off the library ladders, you can have every single Gutenberg Bible you find.”

As she had at Lord and Lady Oliver’s wedding so many years before, Lady Irving made a trenchant observation. She had told her brother, long ago, to marry “a snip in her first season,” someone without a family of her own to complicate his life. Amazingly, he remembered this, and he reminded her of it as they all progressed into the dining room for the wedding breakfast.

“Stuff and nonsense,” the countess replied, seating herself next to her brother. “You can’t possibly recall what I told you before your remarriage.”

“I do; I remember it well,” Lord Oliver insisted. “I had just told you I met her at Tattersalls, where she had been looking at the most beautiful dapple gray mare.”

Lady Irving cast her gaze up to heaven, believing this animal-related explanation for his uncannily accurate memory only too well.

“Someone without a family of her own,” she repeated, musing, as she cast her eyes down the long table.

Where the four young Olivers kicked their chair legs, chattered happily, and threw bread across the table at one another.

Butternut the parrot sat on young Tom’s shoulder, stretching his neck and opening his beak for a morsel of food.

Lady Oliver chatted with Gloria, who was letting her younger daughter unpin her hair and create small, messy plaits in it.

Louisa wiped a smut of pudding from Julia’s nose, laughing, as Julia cheerfully motioned to a footman to serve her far more food than any bride ought to have an appetite to eat.

And James sat smiling at his new wife, with such love in his eyes that the countess, who had thought herself immune to this sort of sentimental silliness, actually felt tears well up.

To choose someone without a family. . if he had, none of this would ever have existed.

Lady Irving turned to face her brother again, a repentant expression on her face. She leaned in close to his ear, and spoke to him in a voice pitched for his ears alone.

“Brother, dear, you are only going to hear this from me once in my whole life, so enjoy it.”

She paused, sighed heavily, and said, “I am afraid I have to admit, I was full of rubbish.”