Page 41 of Unbound Boxset

CHAPTER THREE

Julianna paused at her keyboard, the mouse hovered above the send button. Nausea hit her belly but she knew there were no other options. This wasn’t nineteenth-century England and she didn’t belong in the ton. She had already used her father’s intricate network of social contacts to begin introductions to a number of eligible men, but no one seemed interested in a mousy woman with an old estate and nothing else. Many of the men she dated locally didn’t have enough funds to support a money suck like the Cliff House. The ones who did were past seventy, which placed them out of the running. She didn’t have the money to travel and meet new prospects. Therefore, there was one social connection she needed to use to further her plan.

The unlimited world of the Internet. Beyond the regular dating apps of swiping right or left, this website boasted social networking circles so tight-knit and secretive, it was more closely guarded than a sex ring. Her name was her entry. Many men needed to marry in order to secure companies, or meet a mate with certain specifications in order to claim their inheritance. Others needed an heir. The thought of a child made her heart ache with longing. And hope.

Her ad would be well received by the group and guarded in a private manner. Unfortunately, she had nothing to trade for. Except her name.

Her family came from a long line of aristocrats with royalty in the blood. Her people, among the first to settle Rhode Island, came from the old English gentry. In early American days, Newport had been a playground for the rich and famous, from the Vanderbilts to the Astors, and her family had taken a prominent place among them.

Julianna knew some people coveted all that. She counted on some man who liked the idea of a spouse with a family straight from The Great Gatsby. Even if her family was now gone. The past, she’d learned, always survived.

The site catered to men and women who needed to marry for specific purposes. Julianna’s face burned as she compared herself to a prostitute offering her services. Maybe the man would request breeding papers as evidence of her birthright. The bitterness leaked through yet again, and tempted her to consider selling the Cliff House. Walk away with her pride intact and money in her pocket.

“Promise me...”

Her father’s voice echoed in her mind. Her prison was also her haven. If she sold the house, she’d have nowhere to go. In the past, the lure of the unknown excited and tempted her to explore the world and find who she really was.

Now, the thought made her quake with terror. Here, at least, she was safe. Her family memories burned bright within its walls, and if she left the house behind, she’d have nothing left of her past. Just a broken promise to her dying father.

The endless noose around her neck tightened.

Julianna uploaded her ad and the photo. A plain woman looked back at her, a forced smile on her lips. The specially created email address would receive any initial inquiries or questions before securing a meeting. Julianna took a deep breath and clicked the mouse.

Her fate was sealed.

A knock sounded on the door.

She hesitated, knowing Jack was working outside and having no desire to meet up with him. She now kept her distance from the sexy gardener who tied her tongue in knots and made her want to do very bad things. Things she’d craved deep in her soul for so long that she wondered if she’d be satisfied with any man.

She peeked through the window and faced the object of her obsession. Shirtless. Dirty. Sweaty.

Julianna flung open the door, annoyed at the interruption and determined to set him straight regarding their worker/employer relationship.

Then saw the blood.

He held up his hand, wrapped in his white T-shirt and stained muddy brown. His face looked almost sheepish. “Sorry, I had a bit of an accident. Can I use your bathroom?”

Julianna stepped aside and grabbed his hand. She quickly pressed the fabric over the wound and led him down the hall. “What did you do?”

“Made an ass out of myself.” She couldn’t help the tsking sound she made under her breath at his language—her father’s strict rules of propriety drilled into her from birth. But she fought off a bit of amusement at his temper. Evidently, he despised making mistakes that cost him blood. Too much blood, by the looks of it.

“Sit down.” She pushed him down on the closed toilet seat, quickly grabbed some washcloths and ran them under warm water. Julianna winced when she took the shirt away from the gaping wound. A clean cut crossed his hand, deep enough to warrant stitches from the looks of it. She dumped the shirt on the floor and began wiping away the dirt. “You may need a hospital.”

He shook his head hard enough to remind her of a little boy refusing to go to the doctor. “I’ll be fine. You shouldn’t use those cloths though—they’ll ruin.”

She shrugged at the delicate rose lace that adorned the towels and kept pressure on the wound. “I do laundry.”

“Yourself?”

Her brow lifted in annoyance. She concentrated on the task and not his curious stare. “I know how to take care of a house. I like my privacy.”

“Still, this is a pretty big house. And you don’t look like the type of woman to…clean.”

Julianna refused to take the bait. She couldn’t help her tendency to screen her face for a calm, emotionless façade. Lord knows, she’d learned her lesson along the way that temper tantrums or emotional outbursts did nothing to help matters. “Interesting. You don’t seem like the type of man who doesn’t know how to handle a mower.”

His rich laughter attacked, then soothed her eardrums. She reached for the brown bottle under the cabinet, determined he would never know how his laughter affected her. “Nice shot. I’m blaming it on the rental company. They gave me crap equipment to work with.”

“Hmmm. OK, this is going to sting.”