A Dangerous Temptation

  A Dangerous Temptation

  By L.R. Olson

  Copyright 2015 L.R. Olson

  Published for Smashwords

  www.LROlson.com

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover by Beverley Kendall

  Other Books by L.R. Olson:

  Historical Romance:

  A Dangerous Temptation

  A Dangerous Deception

  A Dangerous Liaison

  New Adult Books:

  The St. Clare Series:

  Seduction: Prequel, Free

  Redemption

  Deception

  Salvation

  The Terminal Series

  Terminal 19

  Adult Contemporary:

  The Southern Gents Series:

  For Hire

  A Dangerous Temptation

  Volume One

  Julianna

  The very first time I saw him he was naked.

  Completely and utterly devoid of clothing.

  I’d seen naked men before. I wasn’t a complete innocent full of maidenly blushes and virginal quivering. Years ago, Cecilia and I had been walking one evening, daydreaming out loud about a future of adventure and girlish dreams when we’d happened upon three farmhands bathing. Afraid of being caught and being completely ruined, we’d dashed home. Had they seen us? I still wasn’t sure. But we had seen them. Not that I was impressed. Hairy and strange, they looked rather silly to me. And I wasn’t the only one to think so.

  “Is that it then, Jules? Those dangly bits and bobs?” Cecilia had whispered, tucking a lock of her golden brown hair behind her ear. “How’s that supposed to bring anyone pleasure?”

  I’d had to press my palm to my mouth to keep from laughing out loud and being found out. We’d gone to bed that night amused and bewildered all at the same time. My interest in the male species, and the idea of love and marriage had certainly waned with that introduction. But then I’d been only fourteen years of age.

  Still, I’d seen naked men, and so I thought I’d be prepared when I found the person I would marry. But never, ever, had I expected to see James. Never had I expected to react the way I had, unable to ignore the burning heat that raced through my body, making me unsure if I was even me, or had transformed into some wanton woman I could no longer identify.

  I’d been on my evening walk, reading my mother’s latest letter and savoring the silence before my family would return home from the city, bringing with them stories of gossip, newest fashions, and a list of potential suiters for my younger sister, Penny.

  With her golden looks she’d have plenty of opportunities.

  I wasn’t bitter over her happiness, even though my younger sister marrying before me meant I was firmly on the shelf. Penelope was a sweet girl, if a bit silly-minded. Still, she was kind and caring and deserved a good marriage.

  And I…I would be the doting spinster of an aunt. After what had happened years ago in London, I’d accepted that I’d never marry or have children of my own. And I’d been content with that thought, even if what had happened in the city hadn’t been my fault.

  I’d been content until I’d seen him…completely nude and bathing in the stream that separated our land from our neighbors.

  At twenty-two years of age, when I’d given up hope of ever knowing intimacy with a man, I fell in love. It wasn’t chocolates, roses or moonlit walks. But it was shocking all the same. Startling, intense, mind-consuming. A moment I’ll never forget, a moment that changed the course of my life forever, for better, and yes…for worse.

  Chapter 1

  Julianna

  “What’s your mother have to say this week, me dear Miss Jules?” Ramona called out from behind the rose bushes where she was checking for new growth.

  Mother was proud of her flowers, bragged about them to her friends, even though she had little to do with their welfare. She left the care of her prized blooms to the servants and only claimed interest when they drew attention.

  I settled on the swing Mr. York had hung for me and Penny so many years ago. How much fun we’d had together as children. But those, I suppose, were simpler times. Before Penny became enamored with finding the perfect fiancé, before I’d been to London and ruined my chances. Long, long before I’d been deemed unsuitable. But London was in the past. There was nothing to do but move forward, or so Mother had said. Easy for her, she hadn’t become fodder for the gossiping ninnies of the ton.

  “Oh, she says very, very important things,” I began.

  Ramona grinned, as she snipped a red rose and brought it to me. One of the first flowers of spring. Greedily, I took the bloom and breathed deeply its sweet scent before tucking it behind my ear. I adored spring. The fresh and clean air, the excitement of a new year. Every morning something colorful and brilliant would pop up from the ground as if to say, “Hello, I’m here, lovely world!” You never knew what the day would bring.

  It was a time of hope. Renewal.

  It was also when my family returned from London.

  A slight blight on the season.

  I pushed my feet into the soft spring ground, sending the wooden swing back. The oak branch above creaked, warning that I was getting too old and big for the dear tree. “For instance, Lady So-and-So wore red to the Royal Ball. Scandalous.” I held up the letter, letting it catch the breeze and rustle. “And Lord What’s-his-Name…why he did something truly disastrous and smoked a cigar directly in the path of the lady’s sitting room. Unforgiveable. He should be drawn and quartered. Or perhaps this would be an excellent time to reinstate hangings.”

  Ramona chuckled as she picked up her basket and pruning shears. “You, my dear, are wasted out here where no one but the servants are subject to your wry humor and intelligence.”

  I grinned. “I don’t believe the ton would appreciate my humor or intelligence. Have you not gotten the missive? Ladies are to be seen and not heard.”

  She frowned. “I thought that was children.”

  I shrugged. “Same thing where society is concerned. I promise, Ramona, I want to be here. I can wear my favorite gown, just old enough to be comfortable.” I latched onto my dark braid. “No unnecessary hair pins that dig into my scalp. I’d much rather be here where I don’t have to worry about saying or doing the proper thing. No matter how ghastly my impropriety, you’ll always forgive me, won’t you?”

  She snorted as she wiped her hands on her apron. “We’ll see.”

  I grinned. At fifty, the woman had never had children and had always doted on me and Penny. “Do you need any help?”

  She waved me away. “Off with you now. I know how much you enjoy your walks before dinner.”

  I sighed dramatically. “If you insist.”

  With
a flourish, I jumped off my swing and headed toward the trail that ran along the back of our garden and into the woods. Stately and ancient, the estate was made of locally quarried stone and covered in tenacious English ivy. And like most titled families, we had our handful of servants to help run the estate. Ramona had been with us since my birth, twenty-two years ago. Most of the staff had been here that long. If I married I wouldn’t be home, surrounded by my favorite places, my friends and family.

  I adored Dorset with her green hills and sunshine, and had no desire to leave. Ever. I loved that every summer we took a trip to the coast as a family. While Penny, mother and I looked for shells, father would sit along the banks and read. I adored that every Sunday after church, most of the town would have a picnic, and would even share with those less fortunate. I loved our evening meals at home where we would argue over every topic under the sun. But most of all I adored the fact that after what had happened in London, the town had forgiven me. They hadn’t judged or belittled, because they knew me. The real me, and they accepted me flaws and all. Ours was a happy family, and a perfectly peaceful life.

  But things would change, as they always did. Soon, Penny would marry and she would leave to start a family of her own. It wouldn’t be the same. My sister was shallow and self-important at times, interested only in clothing and the latest fashion from Paris, but she was still my sister and I loved her dearly. I could only pray she would live nearby, that I might be the attentive aunt to her children I so wished desperately to be.

  I breathed deeply the musky scent of earth and spring as I folded the letter. Yes, I was perfectly content staying here for the rest of my life. After all, someone needed to take care of my parents. I had no doubt that Father would leave me a small stipend once they were gone. I could live out my days in a cottage by the sea. I might not have children or a husband but I would have that cottage, I would have my paints, and I clung to that dream.

  I shoved the letter into my skirt pocket and followed the trail as it curved into the woods, wishing I’d brought my pencils and drawing pad. Most of the farmers were inside for their evening meals, leaving the countryside quiet, perfect and still. It was a comforting sensation I experienced as I crept through the woods…one of being watched by nature, yet accepted by the trees and the flowers and insects. They did not know about my past, they did not judge me. I was one of them, a mere living being within their atmosphere.

  Within a few days my family’s carriage would come rumbling down the lane. An old and supposedly proper family, Father had always been proud of our heritage. Important families went to London for the season. So, although my father hated the city, we went. And I had as well until I’d ruined everything.

  Once in a while I still caught Father looking at me with disappointment in his blue gaze. Mother did not hide her feelings as well as Father and I was often forced to listen to her lament upon what could have been. It stung, but the lectures were few and far between, and I knew they loved me and wanted me to be happy.

  Yes, I loved them dearly. I also loved when they were gone and I had the entire house to myself. Well, as alone as I could be with fifteen servants as chaperones. A time when I could spend my mornings and evenings painting in my oldest gown. A time when I could take my dinners with the servants in the kitchen or in the parlor near a warm fire. My days and nights were completely my own. And so I would savor this time alone, for it wouldn’t last. At least not until next winter.

  “Hello, Miss Jules.” Mr. York, the gardener smiled as we came across each other. He had a shovel braced over his shoulder, his cap askew upon his balding head. “Going on your evening walk?”

  Was I so very predictable? At one time I’d craved excitement, adventure. But I’d been a naïve girl then. “Yes, savoring the quiet until Mother and Penny arrive.”

  He laughed, showing a few missing teeth. He was at least seventy, and proud of the fact that he had any left at all. “Now, they’re a good lot. Still don’t know why you don’t go as well. London is a right exciting place, or so I’ve been told.”

  I adored the fact that the servants pretended to know nothing about my little mishap those years ago. They’d forgiven me, forgotten, even if my parents and the ton hadn’t. I shuddered dramatically. “The crowds. I feel like I can’t breathe.”

  “How do you expect—”

  “I know, I know.” I’d heard it plenty of times before. How would I possibly land a husband if I hid here for the rest of my life? “I’m meeting Cecilia,” I lied. “Have to go!”

  I hiked up my skirts and raced across the garden, praying no one would see me running like the heathen I’d been branded. My woods and isolation beckoned. I was friendly with the staff, too friendly, according to my mother.

  “They are lovely people, Jules, but they are servants. And it makes everyone uncomfortable when you treat them as equals.”

  But how could I not? They were family. Still, it made it seem as if I had multiple mothers and fathers at times, everyone telling me what I should be doing with my life. As if one set of parents wasn’t enough.

  The setting sun pierced the new leaves, sending a lace-like pattern of light and shadow across the trail. In every object and in every scene, I saw a future painting. The dirt path curved toward the creek. A clear ribbon of water that grew deeper the farther one followed the stream.

  Breathless, I slowed. Here, I could hide. Here, I could be with my thoughts. Perhaps they weren’t deep and meaningful, perhaps they’d never solve poverty or war, but they were my thoughts and mine alone. I found the creek, the low gurgle of running water sounding better than any orchestra I’d heard in London. Here, in these woods, I could be free. As free as an unmarried woman dared to be. I ducked under a branch and stepped into the clearing near the bank where the creek widened, but the sound of splashing water caught me off guard.

  I froze, one foot in the clearing, one in the woods.

  I’d seen men bathing before, but never had I seen a man like him.

  He was tall, broad-shouldered, his skin warmed with a honey glow. My gaze traveled over the bulge of his biceps, down the length of his strong back, ending at his muscled bottom. My heated flush of embarrassment slowly changed into something entirely new. Attraction? Desire? I wasn’t sure.

  With a trembling hand, I lowered a branch to get a better view. Completely improper, yet, I found I couldn’t look away. For a silly moment I wondered if he wasn’t real at all, but a dream. Or perhaps some mythical beast come to tempt me. He scooped up water and poured it over his head. Vaguely, I noticed the pile of clothing on the shore. Not a mythical beast then. Just a man.

  The water splashed against his broad shoulders, trailed down his back, toward his bottom. Light pierced the trees above and shone upon his wet skin, making him practically glow. My hand fell to my bosom, my breath catching. If the back of him looked so incredibly good, what, I wondered, did his front look like? He scooped up another handful of water and poured it over his head, sighing with contentment.

  A sigh that seemed to shiver its way through my very being. I had to bite my lower lip to keep from sighing in return. Who was he? Surely he wasn’t someone from our village. They knew better than to use our creek to bathe.

  I shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. The warmth I felt had moved from my face, down to my chest, and was spreading lower. Tight and achy. Feelings I had experienced sometimes late at night in dreams. Sinful feelings I didn’t dare dwell upon.

  The artist in me wanted to settle down and draw him before he disappeared, and perhaps I would have if I had carried my pencils. The woman in me wanted to merely stare in utter fascination. The lady in me knew I needed to turn and run. I was no longer fourteen, I wasn’t with Cecilia, and my reputation was already tarnished. So why couldn’t I bloody move?

  “Are you going to continue to stand there spying, or will you hand me my clothes?”

  His deep voice cut through the sounds of my own tumultuous thoughts, startling me.

  I sucked i
n a sharp breath and froze.

  “Well?” he asked.

  Dear God. No. My shock quickly gave way to utter humiliation. An embarrassed flush raced through my body, spurring me into action. I stepped back, right onto a branch which snapped loudly in protest.

  “Don’t you dare run,” he said, turning to face me fully.

  I didn’t let my gaze drop, I wouldn’t. I did. Not that it mattered much as the water came to his lower belly and showed only his chest. As I jerked my gaze up to his face, I became aware of the amusement in his dark eyes. Black eyes. His features were all hard planes, somehow combining into a face of masculine perfection. Firm lips, sharp cheekbones covered with a day’s worth of scruff…I’d never in my life seen someone so dangerously handsome. A veritable fallen angel sent to tempt my very soul.

  Slowly, he made his way toward the shore while I stood there frozen. His front was just as perfect as his back. Valleys and mountains of muscle, sprinkled with dark hair. Greedy, I followed that thin trail of hair. The water lowered to his hips…lowered to…

  With a gasp, I finally spun around.

  “Really,” he said dryly. “You could have handed me my clothing.”

  “I…I apologize,” I blurted, without much thinking about what I apologized for. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

  I could hear the rustle of clothing as he dressed. Dare I bolt? He seemed quite adamant about me not running away. But then he was rather preoccupied. I could make a mad dash for home. Perhaps with the shadows from the trees, he hadn’t been able to see my features clearly and my reputation, what little I retained, would be preserved.