Never Land the First Fish

Chapter Twenty-Six

Gills jerked awake in the overstuffed chair in his sitting room, spilling a deck of cards across himself and onto the floor. He'd been playing Patience, he recalled, because Julia had gone to bed early, claiming a headache. Well, who could blame her, after three days at the hands of the lawyers, and with the court case tomorrow? It was the reason he hadn't any desire to lie in his bed, staring at the ceiling.

Before he could shake his head free of the cobwebs and discover whatever had woken him, a small voice sounded from just outside the balcony doorway, calling for him in just above a whisper. "Gills? Gills, are you awake?"

If he had been in his bed, not his sitting room, he would never hear it, but he doubted Julia could see him dozing from the door. She was trying not to wake him, when she clearly wanted him awake. He could oblige. He sat forward, rubbed a hand across his face, and called out, "Come in, Julia. I'm still clothed; you needn't worry for your virtue." Bending to pick up the cards when she came in, he only saw the hem of her nightgown and dressing gown and her adorable toes poking out.

Adorable toes? Good God, he was sunk. God help him if Maddox ever heard that. He sat back, leaving the cards strewn across the floor. Problem was, his gaze moved from her adorable toes to her expressive hands to her lithe curves to her bountiful—

"I've woken you," she said, twisting her hands around themselves.

"I was only napping." He gestured to his clothes—everything anyone could wish, except a jacket and shoes.

He lips pursed, she observed, "It's two o'clock in the morning."

"Hence, the nap. What do you need so late, my love? How can I help?"

"You aren't to call me that."

Ah, it was proper Julia who had come to call.

"I apologize. It must just be the late hour. I am groggy and forgot the rules for a moment."

Instead of berating him, though, she twisted her fingers together into a tight knot, dropped into the other chair, and said quietly, "I'm so frightened, Gills. I'm terrified for us both. What if they move us to Newgate? What if Wellbridge's influence and my father's and your brother's aren't enough? What if we're found guilty and hang?"

Gills reached over to grasp her hands, pulling them apart, and the right one into both of his.

"Even if we were found guilty, it will not happen tomorrow. You know that."

"Yes, but we are on trial for our lives!" Her voice rose, but never enough to wake the guards likely sleeping outside the door. She yanked back her hand and began twisting it again with the other. "If they find he was murdered, our lives will be over, Gills. Even if we do not hang, we will forever be the black widow and her lover."

Gills only knew one perfect method to distract a woman from anything he'd prefer she not consider. He dropped out of his chair to his knees and shuffled the few inches to kneel at Julia's feet. He tugged her hands apart again, pulling them straight out from the shoulder, so he could lean in and kiss her. She leaned back, but then swayed forward and chose to complete the kiss.

"If I will forever be called your lover, my lady, I would like to know the joy of it." He nuzzled his nose into her neck, taking in the scent of her: oatmeal soap, bergamot, and tuberoses in the moonlight.

"Gills..." she whispered, never stopping him, when he made certain to move slowly enough that she could. He knew, from hearing her scream at her aunt through the door, that Athol had "taken her against her will hundreds of times," so he would be shocked if she could stand his touch long enough to make love to her. But he was willing to skirt the line if she was. He just had to be prepared to stop at any time, no matter how far along they were in the encounter.