Lord Julian.
"You're cold, Wildflower," he said lowly.
"I'm fine," she lied.
He pulled the blanket away. She gasped. "Lord Julian!"He only chuckled. "Thought I'd play gentleman?"
"You're impossible," she mumbled, lunging for the blanket—but instead stumbled into him. He caught her, holding her close.
Her heart was hammering.
He whispered near her ear, "You didn't drink your tea."
"I... I will."
He didn't let go. "Were you frightened by the news?"
"Yes," she whispered. "We visited just days ago."
He gently guided her to the bed. She didn't resist. He poured the tea and handed it to her.
She drank quietly, eyes flicking once to his bare chest. He caught her.
"Seems someone's staring."
"Shit!"
He kissed her—slow, unhurried, and deep.
Then again, this time longer.
He didn't rush. His fingers trailed her arm, his touch featherlight.
"What's with the titles, Wildflower?"
"N-nothing, my Lo—Julian," she corrected.
He smiled, brushing hair from her face. "That's better."
