Bad Boys Ahoy!

Chapter One

London, 1810

"What the devil are you doing in my club?"

Julienne looked across the massive mahogany desk into blue eyes the color of which she'd never seen before. Somewhere between deep blue and purple, they were fringed with thick black lashes that were shamefully wasted on a man. "I need to find my brother," she said, lifting her chin in defiance.

One black brow arched. "A message left with the doorman would have been simpler, Miss…"

"Lady. Julienne. And I attempted to leave messages. I have yet to receive a response." She shifted in her chair as the broadcloth trousers chafed the delicate skin of her derriere. The wig itched, too, but she refused to embarrass herself further by scratching.

"Dressing as a man was an original touch."

She heard the laughter in the velvety voice and scowled. "How else was I to gain admission to a gentleman's club?"

Julienne resisted the urge to flee as Lucien Remington rose from behind the desk and rounded it. She licked suddenly dry lips as she took in his height and the breadth of his shoulders. He was even more devastating up close than he had been across crowded ballrooms. Black hair and tanned skin displayed his extraordinary eyes to perfection. A strong jaw and generous mouth bespoke of his sensual nature, which was lauded far and wide by well-pleasured ladies of his acquaintance.

"Exactly, Lady Julienne. A gentleman's club. Those garments do not disguise the fact that you are all woman. Ridgely's foxed, or insane, not to have noticed." His perusal paused briefly on her breasts before rising to meet her gaze.

"No one noticed," she muttered.

"I noticed."

And so he had. Almost immediately. She'd been in the club only five minutes at most before he'd grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her into his office. But then, it had taken her only five minutes to make a mess of the whole affair.

His voice softened. "What is so urgent that you would take such drastic measures to speak with your brother?"

As he leaned against his desk directly in front of her, the material of his trousers stretched over firmly muscled thighs. He was so close she could feel the heat emanating from his body. She smelled a hint of tobacco and starched linen, and another delicious scent that could only be the man himself.

Remington cleared his throat, drawing her attention. Julienne flushed at the knowing smile that curved his lips.

She straightened her spine, refusing to be cowed despite how beautiful he was or how flustered he made her. "My reasons are my own."

Remington bent, bringing his mouth inches away from hers. "When your reasons include my club, I reserve the right to know what they are."

Julienne's gaze was riveted to his lips. If she leaned forward just a tiny bit, she could touch them with her own.

Would they feel as soft as they looked?

He pulled away, then lowered to his haunches and placed his large hands on her knees. She jumped at the heat that burned through the broadcloth. "Who is your brother?" he asked.

Julienne's mouth parched the instant he touched her, making speech difficult. Lucien Remington was simply gorgeous.

She'd always thought so, always compared her suitors to him and found them lacking in all respects. No one was as handsome, or as interesting, or as… wicked.

Her tongue flicked out to wet her bottom lip, and his eyes followed the movement. An ache came to the place between her legs. Julienne attempted to push his hands away, but when she touched his skin, her palms burned. She pulled away quickly. "A gentleman does not put his hands on a lady," she scolded.

His hands slid higher, squeezing gently, his mouth gifting her with a roguish smile. "I never claimed to be a gentleman."

And he wasn't, she knew. His determination and ruthless business acumen were the stuff of legend. If it wasn't precisely prohibited in writing, Lucien Remington would do it. He showed no leniency when it came to expanding his empire. He was widely disparaged for his "vulgar pursuit of money," but Julienne found it rather thrilling. He cared nothing for the regard of others, a nonchalance she wished she could affect herself.

"Now, about your brother…?"

"Lord Montrose," she blurted.

A devilish smile teased the corners of Remington's mouth. "That explains why he hasn't answered your messages, sweetheart. The earl owes me a great deal of money. I suspect he's avoiding me."

She said nothing, but she clenched her fists. Their situation must be worse than she'd thought. It was common for Hugh to carouse and spend days on end with his scapegrace associates. From experience she knew he most likely wasn't in danger. But that didn't ease her worry. Or their predicament.

"Why don't you tell me what you need?" Remington coaxed, his long fingers rhythmically kneading her lower thighs. "Perhaps I can help."

The sensations he elicited spread up her legs and into her breasts, flushing her skin. Her nipples hardened. "Why would you want to do that?"

His powerful shoulders flexed as he shrugged. "You are a beautiful woman. I like beautiful women. Especially troubled ones who require my assistance."

"So you can take advantage?" She stood, her thoughts and body in turmoil, and his hands fell away. "I should not have come in here."

"No, you shouldn't have," he agreed, his voice soft. Remington rose at the same time, towering over her. The top of her head barely reached his shoulders, and Julienne was forced to tilt her head back to look at him.

She turned to leave, but his grip on her elbow stayed her. Heat radiated from his fingers and spread through her body.

"Unhand me," she ordered in an unsteady voice. "I wish to leave."

She didn't, not truly, but she must. Remington's proximity was doing terrible things to her. Wonderful, terrible things. Things it most likely did to countless other women.

He shook his head and grinned. "Pity that, since you're not going anywhere. Not until morning. You've created enough of a stir as it is, coughing brandy all over Lord Ridgely. Returning to the floor, however briefly, would stir up the whole mess again. You've wounded his pride, and he's a pompous ass."

"What do you suggest I do then?"

The amusement in his eyes never wavered. "You'll stay the night in one of the rooms upstairs. I'll entertain Ridgely and his cronies until the whole debacle is forgotten."

She gaped. "You're mad! I cannot remain in this establishment overnight!"

Remington laughed. The deep, rich sound gathered around her like an embrace and made her shiver. But she wasn't cold. To her dismay, she was growing hotter by the moment. She couldn't help it with the way he looked at her. Julienne had seen that look before. But no man had ever dared to give it to her.

She found she rather liked it.

"You went to a hell of a lot of trouble to get in here," he purred. "And now you're anxious to leave?"

Julienne sidestepped, but he didn't release her. "My need was especially dire. I apologize for any trouble I-"

"You don't sound very sorry."

"I'll leave immediately," she offered.

"You'll leave in the morning. The hour is late. The streets aren't safe."

"My aunt will worry," she argued.

"I'll send Lady Whitfield a note. She'll know you're well."

She stilled, her eyes narrowing. "How do you know about my aunt?"

"I know everything about every one of the members of my club. Especially those who enjoy lines of credit." Remington's thumb began an absentminded caress of the hollow of her elbow. Julienne felt the warmth of his touch all the way to her bones.

"I know your parents died when you were very young and your Aunt Eugenia's been your guardian for years. You and Montrose are always running roughshod over her. Your brother is brash, hotheaded, and still too young for the responsibilities of his title. You're always bailing him out of one mess or another. And now I know how seriously you take that responsibility."

She looked away, flustered that he knew such intimate details. "Do you also know how sick to death I am of that chore?" she said finally, surprising herself with the admission.

His voice turned soft and sympathetic. "I'm certain you must be. But you've done an admirable job. There's not been even a breath of scandal attached to the La Coeur name."

Julienne looked up at him, overwhelmed by his nearness. She felt slightly tipsy, but she couldn't blame it on the brandy. Lord Ridgely was presently wearing most of it.

Remington led her across the room and pulled the bell. "I'll have one of the courtesans give you a night rail. You'll be comfortable. My hospitality is legendary."

She scowled. "That's not all that's legendary."

Unperturbed, he gave her a wink. A lock of silky hair fell across his forehead, and Julienne fought the unaccountable urge to brush it away with her fingertips.

An attendant came, and Remington drew him aside. When the servant left, she tried again to reason her way out of trouble.

"Mr. Remington, I must insist you allow me to leave. It is most improper for me to spend the evening here."

"And masquerading your way into my club is proper?" Remington's brilliant gaze hardened with determination. "You've created an inconvenience for me, Lady Julienne. The least you can do is minimize the damage."

Everything they said about the man was true. Single-minded. Stubborn. Relentless. She could always slip away. She was good at-

"Don't even consider sneaking out," he warned. "I've already instructed the attendant. You won't get far."

"Of all the-!" she sputtered.

Abruptly the wall opened, revealing a hidden passageway and a young, scantily dressed woman.

"Escort my"-he shot her an amused glance and chuckled-"lady friend to the Sapphire Room, Janice. Give her a night rail, and order her a supper tray."

The courtesan's eyes widened as she studied Julienne with obvious interest.

With a hand at the small of her back, Remington propelled her toward the opening. He bent low, his lips brushing her ear. "Stay in your room until I send for you in the morning. I would hate for you to be seen without your disguise."

Julienne stared at the open portal. "Don't you have one of these that lead out-"

"No. This goes from here to my room. Nowhere else."

She shivered as his breath danced across her throat, the feeling so intimate as to have been almost a caress. "Mr. Remington, is there any way I could convince you of the impropriety of this arrangement? I'm truly sorry to have disturbed you."

His blue eyes darkened, and he opened his mouth to speak. Then he shut it and shook his head. "Go on now," he urged in a husky whisper. "I have work to do."

Muttering under her breath, Julienne followed Janice into the secret hallway, feeling Remington's eyes on her until she disappeared from sight. It took only moments to reach the upstairs gallery, where the courtesan ushered her into an opulent bedchamber. As soon as she stepped inside, Julienne paused, entranced.

The Sapphire Room was the loveliest room she'd ever seen. The walls were covered in deep blue-and-cream stripes of silk, the massive bed was layered in lush indigo velvet, and the parquet floors were covered with rich Aubusson rugs. She spun slowly, attempting to picture Remington here.

"My lady?"

Julienne started in surprise at the use of her courtesy title. "How did you know?"

Janice smiled. "'Tis impossible to hide good breeding. I'll go now and fetch you something else to wear and some supper. I won't be long."

"Thank you. I'd be very grateful to get out of these clothes."

After the courtesan left, Julienne tossed the wig into the coal bucket and sank into a chair, once again admiring the luxuriousness of her surroundings. Remington's Gentleman's Club was a pleasure den, a bastion of male comfort and iniquity. Hugh had steeped himself in the environment, surrounding himself with erotic novels and scandalous peep-show boxes, as well as a social circle made up entirely of debauched rakes. She'd been forced to study the enemy simply to know what she faced.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. Julienne had to admit she was curious about carnal relations. She hated to be in the dark about anything, and Aunt Eugenia was no help at all, stuttering and stammering every time she was asked anything of a sexual nature. The books and contents of the boxes had answered many of Julienne's questions, but in the process they had raised many more, and unfortunately they had told her nothing about how to remove Hugh from his path of self-destruction.

Standing, she crossed to the window and stared at the darkened London skyline. Remington's was Hugh's favorite establishment, and after seeing the inside of the famous club, Julienne could understand why. He'd been absent for a week, which was not unusual, but the hounding creditors were driving her mad. Usually Hugh dealt with them, charming them into allowing him a few more days. She, on the other hand, had no notion of what to say, and while the duns strove to be polite to her, they grew angrier by the day.

There would be hell to pay when Hugh showed his sorry hide again. But in the meantime, she was inclined to think her adventure had been worth it just for the few stolen moments she'd enjoyed of Lucien Remington's company. The fact was, the possibility of seeing him up close, of hearing his voice, of watching him at her leisure, was what had prompted this plan. Finding Hugh would have been a bonus.

Under no other circumstances would Julienne have been allowed to make Remington's acquaintance. She knew very little about him, since he was not a fit topic for unmarried ladies. Furtive eavesdropping in retiring rooms had only whetted her appetite to learn more. But there was one thing she knew for a certainty: Lucien Remington was a naughty man.

And she rather liked that about him.

He knew how to enjoy himself without running headlong into the poorhouse. In fact, rumor said he was one of the richest men in England. She hoped Hugh could learn similar self-restraint and financial acuity.

Releasing a deep breath, Julienne turned toward the bed. At times she truly hated being an earl's daughter and all of the social strictures that came with that station. She wished she could be like her abigail, who was seeing the neighbor's footman and was blissfully in love. Instead Julienne would be forced to marry for prestige and money. It really wasn't fair. Playing the martyr didn't suit her nature. Hugh made his own messes, and as far as she was concerned, he should clean them up himself. Unfortunately, that wasn't the way it would be.

But her dreams were her own. And if those dreams were of Lucien Remington and his wicked smiles, no one else would ever have to know.

Lucien strode to the sideboard, poured two fingers of brandy, and tossed the fiery liquid back in one gulp.

He'd lost his damn mind. There was no other explanation for forcing Lady Julienne La Coeur to stay. His hand went to the front of his trousers and rubbed the length of his aching erection. His arousal was ridiculous. She was dressed in men's clothing, for Christ's sake!

Closing his eyes, he pictured the sway of her hips in those trousers as she'd left the room. His cock throbbed in response.

Hell and damnation! He should have shoved her out the door. Gently, of course, but shoved with haste, nevertheless.

Instead he had sent her upstairs to the room that adjoined his. She was an innocent, that was painfully obvious, but despite her unfamiliarity with sex, she was no stranger to desire. She'd looked at him as if she wanted to eat him alive. And, God, he'd love to allow her to. With very little effort, Lucien could imagine sliding his cock in and out of her delectable mouth. It would feel like warm silk…

He groaned as his trousers grew even more uncomfortable.

With a muffled curse, Lucien set his empty glass on the desk and walked to the bookshelf. Glancing quickly through the spines, he located the file for the Earl of Montrose. The earl's entire monetary history could be found in here, from the amount he owed his tailor to the balance in his bank account.

Lucien had been aware that Montrose was playing too deep. Any other patron would have lost his credit privileges long ago. But Lucien had left the young earl's accounts open, for one reason and for one reason only-he wanted Julienne La Coeur. He'd coveted her across many a crowded ballroom. Tiny but temptingly voluptuous, with dark blonde hair and mischievous eyes, Julienne had stolen the breath from him at first sight.

He'd wanted to approach her, to beg a dance with her, so he could hold her in his arms. But his reputation as a notorious rake and debauched libertine, as well as his livelihood in trade, had made him vastly unsuitable for even an introduction, let alone a waltz. So he'd allowed Montrose, his one connection to Julienne, to continue playing, to keep him close until he could think of a way to get to his sister.

Lucien wasn't certain what he'd do with Julienne when he caught her. Perhaps he could seduce her and ease his craving. Maybe a longer association would be required. He honestly didn't know what he wanted. He only knew that he wanted. Badly.

Never in his wildest imaginings (and his imaginings could get pretty wild) had he ever thought she would come to him. And dressed as a man, no less.

But he rather liked that she had. It took a formidable will to risk such a scandal. And she'd stood up to him, before whom even some dukes cowered. Julienne La Coeur was no simpering miss.

Now she was upstairs, preparing to slip into one of his beds. He could imagine her curls spread across his silk-covered pillows, her head thrown back with pleasure, as he rode her hard and deep. She'd be ravishing all flushed with passion…

Hang it!

He was driving himself mad.

Before he aroused himself enough to do something he'd regret, Lucien returned the file to the shelf and exited to the gambling area. He wandered among the gentlemen of the Beau Monde, keeping an eye on who was winning and who was losing. He directed the courtesans toward members who looked to be in need of a little amusement, and signaled the servers to water the drinks of those who looked to be falling too far into their cups. He socialized with patrons who sought him out, and paid attention to the quantity and quality of food leaving his kitchens.

Busy with work, he was able to pass some time without a full-blown cockstand. But as the hours passed and more gentlemen made use of the courtesans, his mind wandered back to Julienne.

Beautiful, untouchable Julienne.

He'd watched her draw wallflowers out of their shells and turn the Beau Monde's social dragons into purring pussycats. And he coveted her gentle regard.

Lucien left the main floor and made his way upstairs. Before he realized it, he stood in the bedroom he reserved for his own use when the lateness of the hour or sheer exhaustion made it impractical to go home. He hesitated in front of the connecting door to the Sapphire Room. His erection was back, hot and throbbing in the tight confines of his trousers. He rested his forehead gently against the portal, knowing Julienne was just inside, so close. Achingly close.

He paused and took a deep breath. He reached for the doorknob and was gratified when it turned. Julienne hadn't had the foresight to turn the lock. Fortuitous, or a disaster? Lucien couldn't be certain. A gentleman would walk away. Of course, a gentleman wouldn't have come up here in the first place.

But then he'd never claimed to be a gentleman.

Before he could think better of it, Lucien pushed the door open and walked right in.

Chapter Two

Julienne woke, alerted to the presence of someone else in the room. She was a light sleeper, always had been, and she lay quietly, attempting to ascertain who'd entered.

"You're awake."

She stiffened. That velvety voice was unmistakable. Sitting up in the massive bed, she held the sheet to her neck and glanced toward the door. Light filtered in around Lucien Remington's tall form, casting half his features in shadow. He looked like the devil incarnate, all raw power and luscious dark masculinity.

"You woke me," she censured in a sleep-husky voice, her body taut as a bow. Her dreams had been fraught with images of him. His hands on her, his lips melded to hers, his hard body pinning her down… Nocturnal fantasies she enjoyed with only the tiniest amount of guilt. "This is most improper, Mr. Remington," she said sharply, hiding the heady excitement she felt. "Why are you here?"

He came toward her with his long-legged stride, a sexual predator in motion. Stopping by the bed, he lit the taper on the side table. His mouth fell open when the circle of light revealed her.

"Jesus! You're naked!" he accused, stumbling backward with an expression of horror.

"Hence the reason you should not be in here." Julienne pulled the sheet up higher and gestured with a toss of her chin toward the transparent negligee slung over a chair. "Being naked seemed no better or worse than wearing that."

He never took his eyes from her. "I should have allowed you to leave," he mumbled, shaking his head.

She colored. "You should leave. You have no right to enter my room."

He'd backed up almost to the door when she stopped him. "Has my brother arrived?" she asked eagerly, pushing her hair away from her face.

Remington stood frozen by the doorway. "No," he croaked. "Montrose is not here." He stared at her for a long moment before blurting, "Are you comfortable?"

"Am I-?" Julienne frowned, confused by the sudden change in topic. "Yes, I was quite comfortable."

"And the food? Did you enjoy it?"

"The food was excellent." She smiled. "Your entire establishment is breathtaking. I'd heard rumors, of course, and Hugh-er, Montrose-raved about the beauty of this place, but nothing equals actually seeing it with my own eyes. It's very impressive. I admire what you've accomplished here."

"You ad-?" He swallowed hard. "Thank you. I'm pleased you like it."

"You must hear that often."

"Actually," he admitted, "that was the first instance where someone other than my parents expressed admiration for me."

"Oh." Julienne didn't know what to say. She knew what others said about him, but she was saddened to realize he knew it as well. "Is that why you came? To check on my welfare?"

An uncomfortable silence descended.

"Perhaps I've come to ravish you," he said finally.

She choked and then laughed aloud, even as her stomach did a little flip. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

Remington's eyes widened. "Why? You don't believe I would want to ravish you?"

Julienne rubbed her forehead and shook her head, wondering if she was dreaming this mad encounter. "Mr. Remington, you are the handsomest man in all of England. Your reputation is well known to me. I am aware a libertine like you would have no interest in a green debutante like myself."

He moved toward her again with painful slowness, as if he pulled against his will. "The handsomest man in England?" he queried softly. "Is that your personal opinion, or one you repeat from the mouths of others?"

She twisted at the waist as he approached, hiding her bare back. "Both," she admitted. She raised a finely arched brow. "I did not take you to be a man of vanity, Mr. Remington, but if you are, and you require confirmation of your attractiveness, I would be more than happy to oblige you … in the morning. At the present time, I would appreciate-"

"I'm curious, my lady," he interrupted, his mouth curving intimately. "How would you confirm my attractiveness?"

Julienne grew wary at the hot flicker she saw in his eyes, the same look he'd given her in his office. She liked it, but Lord above, she was naked! The whole situation was… thrilling… but far beyond her experience. Clutching the sheet firmly with one hand, she held out the other to halt his advance. He stopped immediately. "What do you want?"

"To ravish you."

He said it so simply, his expression so earnest, that she was momentarily rendered speechless. Oh, he was wicked. And far more interesting than the other men of her acquaintance.

"You can have any woman you want."

"No." His smile was wistful. "I can't have you."

Her breath caught.

"You're very good," she said finally, honestly awestruck. She'd never seen such a talented rogue. "Charming, seemingly sincere. I can see how you've managed so many conquests. But really, I am not worth the effort, I assure you, although I am flattered."

Remington laughed. "Sweetheart, you're amazing. You dress as a man to sneak into my club, tolerate my extorting you into spending the night, and then feel flattered when I barge into your room and tell you I want to ravish you." His voice softened when he said, "I wish I could keep you."

The expression on his face made her heart race. Julienne felt light-headed and dizzy all over again. Then she was struck with a thought that made sense, unlike all the others that swirled in her head. "Have you been drinking?"

He moved casually to the chair and sat. "Tell me why you want to find your brother, and I'll tell you why I came in here."

"If you're interested in conversing with me, can you at least allow me to dress?"

His blue eyes glittered with eagerness. "In the negligee or the trousers?"

Her mouth fell open. This really had to be a dream. An odd, wonderful, bizarre dream. "I don't know how to deal with a man like you, Mr. Remington." She was out of her depth.

"You can start by calling me Lucien," he suggested. "Then you should probably begin screaming. Most debutantes would have run from the room in terror by now. I'm a stranger to you except for my scandalous reputation, which decries me as a hedonistic seducer of women."

She smiled. "I'm not afraid of you. You've no need to force yourself on a woman."

"Who said I would have to force you?" he purred seductively.

"Good grief," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "You deliberately cultivate your image, don't you? I'd wager you're not as bad as they say."

One side of his mouth twitched in amusement. "No," he agreed. "I'm much worse. If you weren't the purest, sweetest, most beautiful thing I've ever seen, I would have already had you on your back, with your heels in the air."

Julienne's mouth parted in surprise, and she looked away, her face flushed. He was a perfect scoundrel to say such things, but she didn't care. Strong, virile, and devastatingly handsome, Lucien Remington was her fantasy come to life. He had been since the first moment she'd seen him at the Milton country rout.

Taller than most of the other men there and heavily muscled like a common laborer, Lucien had permanently imprinted himself on her memory when he'd inclined his head toward her with a rakish wink. She'd not passed one night in the month since without dreaming of him in ways no proper lady would dream about any man, not even their husbands.

Ah, what she wouldn't give to be brazen and desirable, if only for a moment. She would love to be the kind of woman who could retain the interest of a man like Lucien. The thought made her sigh aloud.

"Bloody hell."

She looked up in surprise and was startled by the anguished look on his face.

"What is it?" she demanded. "Why do you look like that?"

Lucien stood and rounded the backside of the chair, putting the piece of furniture between them as if she posed some grave threat to his person. "Because you look like that't I know what you're thinking, and you must cease. Now."

"My thoughts happen to be none of your business." She waved toward the door. "The hour is late, and I'm tired. I'm undressed, and-"

"I wanted to watch you sleep."

Julienne blinked. "Beg your pardon?"

"You asked me why I was here." He cleared his throat. "I wanted to watch you sleep."

She frowned, confused. "Why would you want to do that?" Lucien Remington, notorious voluptuary, watching her sleep? How much more intimate that seemed than ravishment.

She studied him, noting his hands gripping the back of the chair so tightly his knuckles turned white. It couldn't be possible that he was interested in her. It was so against his known nature, she simply couldn't credit it. He preferred mature, and usually married, women. "Are you feeling unwell, Mr. Rem-er, Lucien? Perhaps you are slightly in your cups?"

"I am not in my cups!" he growled. "But I am decidedly unwell. I'm coming undone. And damn it, the way you look at me tells me you feel the same. I'm not an honorable man, and I do not aspire to be one. I'll take your innocence and walk away without looking back. You'll be ruined, Julienne. I've been panting after you for weeks. Weeks." He shoved away from the chair and began to pace. "I wish to God you had not come into my club."

Julienne gaped. From the moment she'd arrived in London at the start of the Season, her life had seemed to turn completely upside down. Her brother was missing, creditors hounded Montrose Hall, and Lucien Remington wanted to bed her. She couldn't decide which event was most disturbing. Her skin grew hot and tight, her body achingly uncomfortable.

"Aren't you going to say something?" he snapped. "Shout at me. Call me a cad, or worse, if you have the coarse vocabulary to do so. Tell me to leave." When she just stared at him, wide-eyed with incredulity, Lucien approached her and grabbed her by the shoulders. He shook her roughly. "Do something! Anything, damn it, to make me go." His fingers kneaded restlessly against her skin, as if he couldn't bear not to touch her.

She stared mutely at the ferocious man who held her. His voice, his words, his countenance-never in her life had she seen such passion. To think she had inspired such a display shocked her to silence.

And thrilled her.

"Tell me to leave," he repeated harshly. "Before I do something we'll both regret."

"Go," she said, her voice so soft it was less than a whisper. But it was enough. Lucien released her and walked away with angry strides.

As the door closed behind him, Julienne felt an odd panic, as if once he left she would never see him again, which was partially true. She would never be allowed to speak to him, to touch him, since simply looking at him was a grave offense. Once he walked out that door, her time with him would be over. Forever.

And she simply couldn't bear it.

"Lucien!" she cried in dismay, willing him to come back to her.

Instantly, the door swung open, and he was in her arms.

Chapter Three

Julienne La Coeur smelled heavenly. Her skin was like the finest silk, her breasts full and generously swelled as they pressed against his chest. Lucien didn't understand why she'd called him back, but he wasn't about to ask for an explanation.

"Sweet Julienne," he murmured feverishly against her throat. "You should have allowed me to go."

Her small, delicate hands slipped inside his velvet coat and slid across the smooth satin back of his waistcoat. "I tried."

He rolled to the side and shrugged out of his coat, tossing the expensive garment carelessly to the floor. He turned back to her and then froze in place.

The sheet had slipped down to her waist, leaving her breasts exposed to his gaze. Firm and gently swaying from his near-frantic movements, they were more lovely than anything Lucien had seen in his life. "You are more beautiful than I imagined," he breathed.

He watched in amazement as her skin flushed right before his eyes, rosy color sweeping across her chest before rising to her cheeks. His gaze studied her face, and he saw that she couldn't, or wouldn't, meet his eyes. With his fingertips, he tilted the bottom of her chin upward, forcing her to look at him. "Don't be shy, sweetheart. Not with me."

As he searched her face, he wondered at his good fortune. Lady Julienne La Coeur. Julienne, so lovely, laying in one of his beds, bare from the waist up, her rich blonde hair spilling around her creamy shoulders, her dark eyes staring at him with such desire. He was so damn desperate to fuck her, he thought he would burst with it, but the small portion of his mind not presently between his legs wondered why the beautiful, socially esteemed diamond would be so eager to spread her legs for a bastard like him. With a muffled curse, Lucien leapt from the bed.

He looked around wildly. "Is this a trap?" he bit out. "Is your brother hiding somewhere, waiting to jump out and catch me compromising you?"

"Beg your pardon?" She looked genuinely confused.

"What are you doing? Lying in bed naked? Giving yourself to me so easily?"

A frown marred the smooth area between her brows. "I was sleeping," she answered crossly. "I didn't ask you to come in here. I didn't even want to spend the night here. You insisted." Julienne rubbed her forehead, pulling the sheet up once again to cover herself. "Get out," she said coldly.

His hands clenched into fists.

"Leave, Mr. Remington. Before I take up your suggestion to scream."

He watched in amazement as she threw herself into the pillows and turned her back to him. It would damage her more than him to be caught, but why else would she offer herself?

"This is fantastic," he muttered, more to himself than to her.

She gave a disdainful little grunt and punched the pillow.

Lucien wandered around the room, looking behind the thick sapphire velvet drapes and dropping to his knees to look under the bed. Finding no one lurking in the room, Lucien strode to both doors and locked them. He shrugged out of his waistcoat.

Julienne sat up again. "You're mad if you believe I would allow you to touch me now!"

Lucien yanked his shirt out of his trousers and drew it over his head. He smiled grimly when she gasped at the sight of his chest. He knew he was considered too muscled, the result of many hours spent engaged in fencing and pugilism. But the glimmer in her eyes wasn't fear or revulsion. It was desire.

"Why me?" he asked.

She rolled back onto her side. "Go away."

"Why me?" he repeated.

"Why do you find it so hard to believe?" she mumbled into the pillow. "Women throw themselves at you all the time. Why should I be any different?"

He moved toward the bed. "Am I something to boast to your friends about?"

Julienne tucked tighter into the pillows, pulling the sheet with her. "As if I would ever tell anyone that I'd succumbed to your charms. Which I won't!" she added hastily. "Succumb, that is. Now, please leave!"

"What if I spread the tale?" he asked. "What if I tell every member of my club that I rode between your thighs? That I ruined you, and you screamed with pleasure while I did it?" His mouth curved in a predatory smile. "And you will scream with pleasure."

She snorted. "I'll do no such thing."

"What if I tell everyone, Julienne?"

"You wouldn't."

"You don't know me well enough to say that."

"You don't know me well either. For if you did, you wouldn't be so fearful of my intentions."

Turning away, Lucien stared into the dying fire. "You are distraught over your brother."

"I am," she admitted, her clear voice telling him as she faced him again. "I will have to bail him out of this mess, just as I've always done."

He sighed. "If I touch you, you'll be ruined, and the marriage you require to save your brother will be jeopardized."

"I'm aware of that. My actions tonight were foolish at best, but I knew the possible consequences and I weighed them carefully. I'd planned to sit in a quiet corner and observe. I wanted to watch you in your element, a place where the rules are completely yours and you are not bound by the strictures that suppress you in Society. It is unfortunate that Ridgely chose my table to share, but not unexpected."

"Lady Julienne. If you'd been found out-"

"The scandal would have destroyed all chances of an advantageous marriage, I know. But perhaps that would be best for Montrose. I don't care much for the thought of being a sacrifice on the matrimonial altar. Facing the consequences of our actions is the best way to learn responsibility, but I am to blame for shielding him too well. As for this moment, is it so wrong to want the pleasure other women experience? Is it so terrible to steal a little passion in a life that will be bereft of it? There are ways… ways to… ways that would leave me a virgin-"

Lucien turned in stunned amazement. "How would you know of such 'ways'?"

She flushed from the top of her breasts to her hairline. "I read… things."

"You read 'things'?" His eyes widened. "Erotica?"

Julienne's hair was a golden curtain around her. With her bared shoulders and flushed face, she looked every bit the wanton seductress and nothing like the genteel virgin he knew her to be.

And yet it was the unabashed tilt to her chin and the defiance so evident in her silence that most affected him. An innocent who wasn't quite so innocent. His cock had been aching before. Now the throbbing was downright painful.

Her beauty was what had first caught his eye, her voluptuous figure had kept his attention, but her smile, warm and open, was what obsessed him. Women did not look at him with such sweet interest. They either shot daggers at him for being what he was, or invited him to their beds with seductive glances. When Julienne had first seen him across the Milton's crowded ballroom, she'd smiled so beautifully that he'd found it difficult to breathe. He'd wanted her instantly, wanted to discover what it was she saw that lit up her eyes with such warm regard.

But now that he had her in his grasp, he found there was more to his interest than mere carnal gratification. He was startled to realize he liked her, liked that she was unconventional and bold, as well as beautiful and kind.

Abruptly-regretfully-he realized he couldn't take her. Doing so would destroy her, and he could never do that.

"No." He gave a wry smile. "It's not wrong to want passion. And I'm deeply flattered that you want to discover it with me."

Her smile was so brilliant, it made his chest tight.

Lucien ran a hand through his hair. "I enjoy a good debauch as much as any man, Julienne. But sometimes I wish for the finer things in life, the softer things, pure and innocent like you are."

"I'm not so innocent as all that. If you knew the thoughts I have about you-"

"Hush. Don't say any more. I'm having a hard enough time being honorable as it is."

"I rather like you dishonorable, if you don't mind."

He arched a brow and grinned. She was a minx. He never would have guessed. "Haven't you been warned about men like me?"

"Yes." Her lips curved. "But therein lies the problem."

He shook his head.

"You see," she continued, her voice lowering. "Being around you makes me ache. The way you look at me makes me ache, much more so than when I read Hugh's books. I'm a grown woman. Allow me to worry about the consequences."

Lucien groaned low in his chest, a sound filled with defeat and the death of good intentions. He was only a man, an extremely lustful man, with the woman he wanted most offering liberties he shouldn't accept. But would. He couldn't turn away the chance to touch her, to hold her, just once.

"I'll take care of that, sweetheart," he said softly as he approached her. "I'll make the ache go away."

He placed one knee on the bed and then stretched out beside her, clenching his teeth as she rolled and pressed her breasts into his chest. She tilted back her head, offering up her lips, and he claimed them, his tongue sweeping into the sweet recesses of her mouth. Her response stunned him, her eagerness obvious, and he could hardly bear it. He shook with the effort to slow down, to be gentle, when the fire in his blood urged him to hurry.

His hand caressed her shoulder and then moved down to her breast, finding her nipple as he ravished her mouth. He tugged gently with his fingers, loving how she melted against him, completely responsive and unreserved. Pulling her body to drape over his, Lucien caressed the curve of her derriere, kneading the firm flesh until she squirmed.

"Please," she gasped, pulling her lips from his. Her legs spread in silent invitation.

Lucien buried his face in her throat to hide his smile. Julienne was so innocent and yet so wanton. So perfect.

He slid his hands between her thighs, one finger finding the slick opening that betrayed her desire. He slid through the cream, testing her, before sliding just a tiny bit inside. She moaned and instinctively pressed her hips downward, away from the pressure and onto his erection. Lucien groaned along with her.

This wouldn't do. If she did that again, he wouldn't have the presence of mind to keep from plunging his aching cock straight through her maidenhead.

Julienne whimpered when he gripped her waist, pulling her higher over his body so that her breasts hung in his face and the crisp curls of her sex rested safely against his stomach. He held her slight weight easily above him, admiring the sight of her. Her eyes closed, she arched her back, presenting her breasts, while her golden hair drifted around her shoulders.

Lucien was captivated.

Lifting his head, he pressed a reverent kiss to a puckered nipple. Julienne's soft cry encouraged him to go further. He teased her with licks of his tongue before suckling the taut peak into his mouth, intoxicated by the scent and taste of her skin. She arched into him, rubbing her sex along the muscled ridges of his stomach. She repeated the movement again. Then again. Julienne was riding herself against him, her nipple held firmly in his mouth, and he was on fire, every nerve ending vibrantly attuned to the woman he pleasured.

"Please," she begged. "I need… more…"

He knew what she craved. To be filled with him, stretched by him, and ridden to orgasm with his cock stroking deeply inside her. But he would not do that. Could not. There was nothing about him that was honorable, but he'd make the effort. For her.

"Patience, love," he murmured, releasing her breast. "I will attend to you."

He rolled her over, capturing her other nipple with his mouth while his hand caressed the length of her body and dipped between her thighs. To his delight, she opened her legs eagerly, and he caressed her lips with soft, gentle swirls, pinching them together, then moving his fingers across the hard, swollen nub in matching cadence to his suction on her breast. Her lithe body began to undulate next to his, and he threw a leg across her hips, grinding his erection into her thigh, his body seeking a relief that would be denied to him.

It was a hell of a time to find his conscience.

Impatient, Julienne arched into his hand. Lucien obliged by venturing a finger inside her again, softly stroking. He pulled out with exquisite slowness, then pressed forward again. With a patience that surprised him, he took his time, loving her gently until her body welcomed his touch with a rush of moisture. She breathed his name, and he was nearly lost.

Lucien released her breast, afraid of hurting her as his jaw clenched with the effort to retain his control. His finger, slick with her cream, slipped out, and then he entered her with two fingers. He fucked her faster now, pulling back to watch her face as she struggled against her approaching orgasm, her skin flushed, her nipples tight and hard. Despite her virginal state, she was so aroused that he had no trouble pleasing her, his fingers twisting and rubbing, constantly changing tempo and direction, to keep her on the edge. Julienne writhed, her fingernails digging into his arm, marking him on the outside as she'd marked him on the inside. Her knees fell outward, opening her cunt completely, and then her hips began to move with him, rising and falling to meet his thrusts.

"Don't fight it, sweet," he coaxed softly as her head began to thrash, her skin so hot it burned his. "Just allow it to happen."

The room was quiet except for the harsh sounds of their breathing and the slick sucking noises that accompanied the pumping of his fingers. Julienne turned blindly toward him, her lips parted with panting breaths, and he thrust his tongue between them, loving the taste of her. When she stiffened beneath him, he pulled away, pinning her down with his leg as she arched and cried out his name, shivering beneath him. She held his fingers so tightly in her orgasm, he could barely move them, but he managed it anyway, drawing out her pleasure. He was stunned watching her, never having seen anything so beautiful in his life.

And he would never be allowed to see it again.

Lucien was torn between masculine satisfaction and utter, wrenching despair.

Julienne opened her eyes and wondered if she'd fainted. She felt boneless, languid with warmth. As she realized the heat came from Lucien, her mouth curved with pleasure. She snuggled closer, and then stilled at the sound of his harshly indrawn breath and the feel of his erection against her thigh. She looked at him in dismay. He was suffering, and she'd been too sated to notice.

He rose to his elbow and looked down at her, his face drawn tight. "I have to go."

She lowered her eyes to the hard ridge of his cock. Reaching down, she brushed the outline with a shy, tentative stroke of her fingers. It jerked beneath her touch.

He pushed her hand away with a curse, then caught it back and kissed her fingertips to soften his rejection. "You mustn't touch me, Julienne."

"But I'd like to," she insisted. Her heart swelled, filled with tenderness for him. "That was so wonderful… what you did…"

His gaze was achingly tender. "I'm glad you thought so."

Julienne pressed her lips to his.

His hand slid to her nape, prolonging the kiss. Then he sighed and rolled onto his back. In a fluidly graceful motion, he left the bed. Lucien grabbed up his shirt and dropped it over her head.

"Stay with me." She shoved her arms through the sleeves and gripped his wrist quickly when he turned to leave.

"I don't think I can."

"But you wanted to watch me sleep." When he hesitated, she pulled the counterpane back in invitation. He was so obviously torn that it touched her heart.

Suddenly he blew out the candle and slid in beside her. He curled against her back, his knees behind hers, his lips at her shoulder. She clung to his arms as if she would never allow him to go, which was entirely the way she felt. With his warmth and scent surrounding her, she quickly fell asleep.

Chapter Four

"Oh, dear, this is dreadful. Absolutely dreadful. We're ruined. You are ruined! What will we do? We shall be run from our home and-"

"Aunt Eugenia, please!" Julienne threw up her hands. "Keep your voice down! The servants will hear you."

Eugenia Whitfield snapped her mouth closed and bit her lower lip.

Julienne sank into her brother's chair in the study of Montrose Hall and crushed his letter in her fist. The soul-deep satisfaction she'd enjoyed since leaving Lucien that morning was gone, replaced by weary resignation. "I am not ruined."

"You spent the night with Lucien Remington!"

"Aunt Eugenia!"

Eugenia squirmed in misery on the chaise.

"I did not spend the night with Lucien Remington. I merely spent the evening in his establishment, which no one aside from you is aware of. I'd prefer to keep it that way, so lower your voice. Please!"

"What will we do about Hugh?"

Julienne looked at the missive in her hand and wondered the same thing. Hugh had retired to the country for an extended party with some of his friends, leaving her to deal with the aftermath of his debts. As usual, he'd failed to consider notifying her until days after he'd left. Her brother didn't mean to be hurtful. He was simply irresponsible and always leaped before looking, consistently landing in puddles of trouble. It was partly her fault, for always cleaning up after him. Hugh had never learned that every action has a consequence.

She rose from behind the desk and threw the letter into the fire. "Nothing has changed. I had to marry in any case."

"Oh, Julienne…" Eugenia sighed. "You've been through so much. I cannot collect how you manage it."

"The same way you've managed Hugh and me. We do what we must."

Julienne turned back to her aunt and smiled. At fifty, Eugenia Whitfield was still a lovely woman. Widowed at a young age, she could easily have remarried. Instead she had taken over the care of her brother's children when the Earl of Montrose and his wife were killed in a carriage accident. While she often wrung her hands and lamented the unruliness of her charges, Eugenia never said a word of regret about the things she'd given up. Because of this, Julienne loved her aunt more than anything.

"I just assumed Hugh was drinking and gambling himself silly in that club," Eugenia said. "I could never have imagined he would leave town at a time like this! It's your first Season, for heaven's sake." She pursed her lips. "That boy needs a switch to his behind."

Julienne choked back a laugh at the picture. Aunt Eugenia had never raised a hand to either of them, although the hugs had been plentiful.

Sinking into her chair, Julienne let her mind drift to Lucien Remington, a man who was free and unrestrained by the rules that smothered her. Just the thought of the scandalous rogue made her body ache with remembered passion. If she closed her eyes, she could recall his richly masculine scent and the gentleness of his touch deep inside her. The memory alone aroused her, making her nipples hard and her skin hot.

If she listened to Society, she would feel some terrible regret or dismay at what she had allowed to happen, but she didn't.

Lucien had made her feel cherished, and while he'd only mentioned his physical attraction, his every touch, every kiss, had been underlain with an aching tenderness. Her entire life she'd been an object of fragile esteem, not considered a woman of passions, but just a female extension of the men in her life-first her father, then her brother, next her husband. Only Lucien had seen beyond the exterior to the woman within.

She was grateful to have had one night of passion with him, for she would have no more for the rest of her life.

Julienne had left him without saying good-bye. And three days later, Lucien still couldn't stop thinking about it.

Usually he preferred to avoid the morning-after farewell, an often messy affair. But Julienne's silent departure had left him bereft. For the first time in his life, he'd wanted to wake up with the woman he'd touched so intimately only hours before. He'd wanted to share breakfast with her, talk with her, and discover what had her so troubled. He'd quite simply wanted to enjoy her company for a few hours more before losing it forever.

Julienne La Coeur intrigued him more now that he knew her than she had as a stranger. He'd watched her closely for weeks, admiring her graceful poise and social adeptness. But that night in the Sapphire Room, she'd been surprised by his interest, not because she underestimated her own attractiveness, but because she so esteemed his. She admired and was drawn to the very things for which he was usually condemned, and yet he didn't feel like he was just a scandalous bit of excitement to her. Instead he felt like a man appreciated simply for being himself.

Her parting had left behind a void that none of the women he'd bedded since had been able to fill. Lucien wondered if she regretted her curiosity that night or resented him for taking advantage of the offer he should have rejected. He supposed he should feel guilty, but he didn't. How could he, when he ached to love her again?

"I believe Lord Montrose has retired to the country."

Scowling, Lucien looked across his desk at Harold Marchant, his man-of-affairs. Most men cowered when Lucien was irritated. Harold, however, took it in stride, which is why the man had worked for him for almost a decade. Lucien had made Marchant a wealthy man and in the process had earned his loyalty. Marchant was, in fact, the closest thing he had to a best friend. "Is the earl destitute?"

Marchant nodded gravely. "Very nearly. In addition to the staggering amount he owes Remington's, merchants have begun repossessing goods and duns have become regular visitors to the Montrose residence here in town. Soon they will set up a veritable encampment on his doorstep."

Lucien whistled softly. In these days of industrial progression, many aristocrats were losing centuries of inheritance due to their own reluctance to engage in trade or invest in the future. As a man of his own means, Lucien had little respect for anyone who allowed his pride to get in the way of survival. "How does his situation affect Lady Julienne?"

"Lady Julienne?" Marchant repeated, his gaze clearly perplexed through his gold-rimmed spectacles. "She's just begun her first Season, which is remarkable only for the timing of it-she's twenty. Why she waited until now to come out is anyone's guess. She has a respectable portion, but the amount is rumored to be unremarkable. Any serious suitor for her hand will accept responsibility for her brother's future debts. Quite frankly, she'll need to marry for money, but that shouldn't be a problem. She's very popular, has excellent lineage, and boasts great beauty."

Lucien leaned back in his chair. "Who is sponsoring her Season?"

"Her godmother, the Marchioness of Canlow." Marchant frowned. "Why this interest in Lady Julienne?"

Preferring to keep his thoughts to himself, Lucien said nothing.

"No," Marchant said suddenly. "Leave the girl alone."

"Beg your pardon?"

"I've seen that look on your face before. Stick with your demimondaines and bored aristocrats' wives. Lady Julienne has had a rough time of it. Her brother became Montrose at the tender age of nine and has proven to be ill-equipped for the responsibility. She must marry well. Don't ruin it for her."

On any other occasion, Lucien might have found the warning amusing. But this was no laughing matter.

His blasted conscience was to blame for his predicament. He should have fucked Julienne when he had the opportunity and sated his craving. Not even the past three nights of outright debauchery had relieved his desire. Instead he felt soiled. The emotionless encounters had been sad, sordid imitations of the sweet pleasure he'd shared with Julienne.

"Stay out of my affairs," he growled.

"It's my job to manage your affairs," Marchant retorted.

"I don't pay you to censure my behavior."

"You overpay me, Lucien. Allow me to earn my wages."

Lucien shot him a dark glance. "Why the concern for a woman you've never met?"

"I have met her." Marchant smiled at his surprise. "A few months ago, you sent me to the earl's home regarding his growing balance at the club. Montrose was away, but Lady Julienne invited me in for tea, despite my purpose for being there. She was charming and genuine, a true lady. I liked her immensely."

In spite of himself, Lucien smiled. Julienne saw the individual goodness in everyone she met. One couldn't help but bask in the glow of her regard.

"I have no intention of ruining her, Harold."

"I'm relieved to hear that."

"In fact, I'd like to help her. Hire someone to find Montrose. I want to know where he is."

"As you wish." Marchant rose to his feet. "Anything else you require?"

Lucien was silent for a moment. "Yes. I want you to compile a list of suitable marriage prospects for Lady Julienne. Rich, titled gentlemen, neither too old nor too young. Attractive, if possible. And research their backgrounds. No one with any odd fetishes or disagreeable personalities. No one who smells or has uncontrollable vices."

Marchant stood dumbfounded, with mouth agape, the first time in Lucien's memory the man-of-affairs was rendered speechless.

And Lucien was so bloody miserable, he couldn't even enjoy it.

Chapter Five

Julienne drank in the sight of Lucien Remington like a woman dying of thirst. He was stunning in black evening attire, his raven hair and remarkable eyes shining under the chandeliers, his golden skin in sharp contrast to the snowy white of his waistcoat and cravat. She'd thought of him constantly over the last week, wondered what he was doing, whom he was seeing. She suspected she was besotted, which would be the worst sort of foolishness.

"Julienne." Aunt Eugenia tugged on her arm. "Lord Fontaine is heading this way."

She turned her head and watched the marquess approach her with his slow, sultry stride. Greek god handsome, Fontaine was every bit the experienced rake. At the prime age of three and twenty, the young marquess had determined he was in need of a wife, and Julienne appeared to be on his list of suitable prospects. She pasted a sunny smile on her face and queried under her breath, "Are you certain he's kind enough to help Hugh?"

Eugenia maintained her pleasant expression as she whispered back, "Kindness would be a bonus. I can tell you he's wealthy enough. Just remember, a woman can usually get what she desires from a man with the right amount of charm and compromise."

Julienne wrinkled her nose. She didn't want to charm a man into being kind; she wanted him to be that way naturally. She hoped to find someone knowledgeable enough to set Hugh on the path to maturity and financial independence. She felt certain that with the proper guidance, her brother could be turned around. But the hand that guided him had to be compassionate as well as firm.

Lord Fontaine bowed before her. He claimed her outstretched hand and brushed a kiss across the back of her glove. "Lady Julienne, your beauty steals the breath from me."

"And you, Lord Fontaine, are especially dashing this evening."

Allowing her mind to drift, Julienne bantered the standard social pleasantries without thought. She was relieved when he asked her to stroll around the dance floor. As they began to walk, she saw Lucien take the hand of a beautiful brunette known for her scandalous liaisons. Her heart clenched. Their dark beauty as a couple was striking.

She stared, but Lucien never once turned to catch her eye. In fact, he hadn't spared her a glance all evening.

Fontaine followed her gaze and snorted. "That Remington mongrel is a blight on Society. I have no notion why he continues to receive invitations."

"Lord Fontaine!" Julienne was astonished by his rudeness. He offered a dashing smile, but she suddenly found him less than charming.

"His kind has no business mingling with First Society. It taints us all."

She stiffened, and Fontaine easily adjusted his steps to compensate. Knowing it would be proper to hold her tongue, she still couldn't manage it. "Mr. Remington has made a fortune for himself with hard work and determination. I would think that would be cause for admiration."

"I admire his ability to make money, Lady Julienne," he conceded, "but the manners in which he does so are vulgar. He's nothing more than a domesticated pirate, and his… personal deportment leaves much to be desired. Lucien Remington is no gentleman."

Julienne stopped abruptly, causing Fontaine to stumble. Lean and sinewy, he recovered quickly.

"I find your comments offensive, my lord."

Fontaine frowned. With a firm hand, he urged her forward again. "I apologize if I have offended. I merely stated the truth."

"Are you that well acquainted with him?" she challenged.

"Now… I wouldn't say that."

"Then perhaps there are hidden depths to his character of which you are unaware."

Her gaze drifted to Lucien as they passed him. He engaged his companion with singular attention. He'd found his latest conquest. And here she was defending his character like a lovesick ninny.

"You appear flushed, Lady Julienne," Fontaine murmured.

She was furious with herself, but certainly couldn't say so. "I'm a little warm."

With a mischievous smile, he led her neatly out a nearby set of French doors and came to a stop on the balcony. "Better?"

A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. Fontaine was remarkably handsome and charming, if a little on the wrong side of arrogant. She wondered if, given the chance, he could incite her to the heights of passion Lucien had. She felt nothing for him at the moment besides a slight irritation, but perhaps an attraction could grow. In any case, she could not continue to pine for a man who was never meant to be hers. "Will you escort me through the garden, my lord?"

He arched a brow. "Should we find your chaperone before proceeding?"

"Would you prefer that we did?" she asked, knowing she should insist they find Aunt Eugenia, but more concerned about fleeing the sight of Lucien and his lover.

He tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow. "I promise to be on my best behavior."

As they strolled along the nearby gravel paths, she forced herself to relax and to enjoy the slight evening breeze. They found a small bench in viewing distance of the manse and sat down. Fontaine turned to her, taking both of her hands in his. "I would be delighted, Lady Julienne, if you would allow me to escort you to the Derby at Epsom next week."

Julienne knew that to be seen with the handsome marquess at such a public gathering would solidify his courtship in the eyes of Society. "Lord Fontaine-"

"Justin, please."

She was stunned. His offer was an intimate gesture. He could probably count on one hand the number of people who called him by his given name rather than his title.

"Very well… Justin." She took a deep breath. She could also offer intimate gestures. Lucien could not be allowed to ruin her for every other man. Certainly she had not ruined him for other women. "I would greatly appreciate it if you would kiss me."

Fontaine looked understandably surprised, then wary, before grinning with delight. If they were caught, it could be a disaster for her. He would either offer marriage to save her reputation, or he would walk away. As a powerful marquess, Fontaine could not be forced into anything, certainly nothing as drastic as marriage, but at the moment she felt reckless, her stung pride and aching heart goading her to further foolishness.

"With pleasure," he murmured, drawing her closer.

Julienne closed her eyes and prayed for passion. His mouth brushed across hers, featherlight and fleeting. The exchange was not the least distasteful-it was actually quite pleasant-but it was sadly lacking in any combustible qualities. Her heart didn't race, her breath didn't catch. But then she hadn't really expected otherwise.

She opened her eyes and hid her disappointment with a smile. "I would very much appreciate your escort to the Derby, my lord."

"Was that a test, Lady Julienne? And if so, might I safely assume I passed?"

Julienne couldn't tell him the truth, so she simply kept smiling. Thankfully, Fontaine didn't press her further. He stood and held out his arm, but she demurred. "Go ahead, please. I want a moment to catch my breath before I return to the ballroom."

"I cannot leave you out here alone," he said.

But she insisted.

Fontaine stood indecisively for a moment, but in the end his desire to earn her regard won out. He gave a courtly bow and kissed the back of her hand. "I will inform Lady Whitfield of your whereabouts."

When she was alone, Julienne acknowledged that it was time to abandon her dream of a grand passion. She couldn't go about kissing men while thinking of Lucien. She needed to marry, and she couldn't afford to be picky. No one in the ton married for love or any other elevated emotion, and it was futile to long for her marriage to be different.

"You kissed him!"

Standing, she turned her head toward the low, accusatory voice.

Lucien.

Lucien kept his fisted hands behind his back. It was bad enough he'd barely restrained himself from beating a marquess to a bloody pulp, but to allow Julienne to see how much he cared would be the worst sort of folly. She'd obviously moved past their one night together, while he had not. He couldn't allow her to discover how completely smitten he was.

He'd been watching her all evening. She bore his mark, although only he knew it. There was a new knowledge in her dark eyes, a subtle swing to her hips, a deeper color to her lips, that said she'd experienced passion. Julienne had always been alluring, but now… now he could hardly restrain himself from sweeping her into his arms, carrying her away, and fucking her until neither one of them could move.

He'd heard her defend his honor to Fontaine when they passed by him, and her obvious irritation with the marquess had touched him as few things in his life ever had. Lucien knew he was too bold and aggressive to be accepted in the upper tier of Society, but he was too rich to mingle anywhere else. Men envied his business acumen and enjoyed the comforts of membership in his club. Women liked him for his pretty face and sexual appetite. Somehow between the two genders he was invited everywhere, but fit in nowhere.

Except for those all-too-brief hours he'd spent with Julienne. He'd fit then. Perfectly.

Lucien had followed her out to the garden, wanting desperately to claim her, and instead had watched her kiss Fontaine. And now she sat dreamy-eyed on the bench, while acidic jealousy ate at him.

"Yes," she admitted. "I kissed him."

"Why?" He had no right to ask, but he was unable to stop himself.

She smiled-the same sweet, open smile that said she saw things in him worth seeing. "I wanted to know if it would feel the same as when you kissed me."

He wasn't certain what he had expected her to say, but it definitely wasn't that. Satisfaction filled him. She'd been thinking of him, even while kissing another man. His fists unclenched. "And did it?"

She shrugged. "Well, I don't know. It's been a sennight since you kissed me. My memory may be faulty."

He reached for her hand and pulled her into the shadows. Staring down at her upturned face, his heart ached at her beauty and the trust she gave him so readily. His voice was husky when he whispered, "Allow me to remind you." Lowering his head, Lucien kissed her deeply, making no attempt to hide his desire, determined to erase from her memory any thought of another man's lips on hers.

Only a week since he'd held her, yet it seemed like an eternity.

Julienne returned his kiss with similar passion, her hands slipping inside his jacket and caressing his back. Her tongue brushed across his, and he tasted her sweetness. Nothing in the world quenched his thirst like the taste of her mouth.

"Did it feel like this when he kissed you?" he asked.

She moaned. "Dear God, no."

He thrust his thigh between her legs and lifted her against it. Her eyes were closed, her head thrown back, her lips wet and swollen from his kiss. Only a kiss, and she was melting in his arms.

He must have done something in a past life to earn Julienne's passion, because he certainly had done nothing worthy of her in this life.

"Julienne," he murmured, hugging her close. "I need to speak with you. I don't think I'll be able to talk with you here. You're too tempting, sweetheart. I can't resist taking advantage."

Her smile curved against his cheek. "You are incorrigible."

"Is there any way I can meet with you? To talk."

She pulled away, her dark eyes shining with amusement. "Anywhere we meet would have us alone."

Lucien sighed, hating the class distinctions that would forever keep them apart. "That's true, but perhaps in the light of day, I'll be better able to restrain myself."

Julienne giggled, a wonderful sound that warmed him from the inside. "If you want to speak with me, you will have to call on me. I've no intention of dressing up as a man ever again."

"I quite enjoyed the sight of you in those trousers."

She laughed. "You are a scoundrel, Lucien Remington."

"I've been trying to tell you that," he said dryly. "You should run in terror when you see me coming."

"I'm not afraid of you. I know you would never hurt me."

Her utter confidence in the goodness of his character rattled him to the core. God help him if she ever came to care for him. He would never be able to resist her.

"How can you know that?" he challenged. "My intentions toward you are not honorable."

"Is that so? Then why do you wish to speak with me in a place where you can't take advantage?"

"Why don't you ask me instead what I'd do if you went further into the garden with me?"

Julienne crossed her arms and gave him a chastising look. "Why is it so important to maintain your dissolute image?"

Mocking her, he crossed his arms and raised a sardonic brow. "Why is it so difficult for you to collect that it's not merely an image?"

She pursed her lips.

He growled low in his throat. "Damn you, Julienne! Your girlish fantasies about me are just that-fantasies. I've ruined dukes and then tumbled their wives. I've-" His voice choked into silence, his throat refusing to form the sounds that would drive her away.

Be frightened, Lucien thought desperately. Run from me before it's too late for both of us.

Her gaze narrowed. "Because if you were really as wicked as you say, you would have divested me of my virginity that night in your club. But you didn't. I'd wager I could lift up my skirts for you now and beg you to take me, and you wouldn't. You couldn't!"

"You innocent fool," he bit out, suddenly furious that she would torture him so. "Never challenge a man's virility. You force him to defend himself in the only way possible."

Fuming and frustrated, wishing she would disdain him instead of entice him, Lucien wrapped his fingers around her elbow and dragged her away from the manse, descending the wide grassy steps into the darkened lower gardens. Julienne followed him easily, making no protest, and her acquiesce only inflamed him further. Finding a yew-enclosed alcove occupied by a marble statue, he pressed her against the cold stone with his aroused body and reclaimed her mouth.

His hands moved urgently over her curves, desperate for the feel of her satin skin. He tugged down the bodice of her gown, exposing her lush breasts. Pushing them up with his hands, Lucien licked a tender nipple, watching it pucker as the cool air drifted across the wet peak. "God, your taste…" he groaned. "It intoxicates me…"

She whimpered, her hands drifting into his hair, holding him close. "Lucien." Her voice, so husky and full of longing, urged him to greater heights of lust, but he held himself ruthlessly in check, gentling his touch even as he suckled voraciously at her breasts. His body shook with the force of his passion, but her pleasure was paramount, more important at this moment than his next breath.

Julienne pushed him away, presenting a tempting picture of wantonness with her breasts pressed upward by her gown, her nipples wet from his mouth. With challenge in her eyes, she lifted her skirts with a courtesan's grace, slowly exposing her long, graceful legs. Then her thighs. And then the honeyed curls of her sex. She widened her stance in open invitation.

"Lucien," she whispered, a blush suffusing the delicate skin of her chest before moving up her throat to her cheeks. "You will drive me to madness before you are finished with me."

He wanted to reassure her and promise her things he never thought he could promise anyone. But he knew it would be wrong to say such things, to offer hope for a future that could never be. Desperate with need, and angry with her for being the cause of that need, he tore open the placket of his breeches and allowed his engorged cock to spring free.

He would show her what kind of man he was and ruin her for any other. She would hate him when he was through, but that was for the best. "I'm going to fuck you," he promised with savage intent, knowing the act with her could never be so base. "I'm going to keep you pinned against that statue, filled with my cock, until you scream from the pleasure."

With one hand under her thigh, Lucien lifted her leg, opening her wider. The head of his shaft found her, and bending his knees, he pressed for entry. She was so tight, but so hot and wet. She felt wonderful, and her helpless moan as he slid deeper into her made him mindless. His entire body was wracked with shudders as he forced himself to press slowly, carefully. He was generously sized, and Julienne was so small. He couldn't bear to hurt her.

He watched her face as he took her, her features pale in the moonlight, like the statue behind her. Her eyes gazed luminously into his, their depths burning with desire and undeserved affection. She should be frightened, but instead she trusted him implicitly. The way she looked at him made it impossible to breathe. He stilled, held rigid by the moment.

Julienne was correct. He couldn't take her like this, like a whore in someone's garden. And he couldn't make her hate him. It ripped at him to even think of it. With a tortured curse, Lucien pulled away, the heavy weight of his erection slipping from her body. She sobbed in protest, and the sound broke the heart he'd forgotten he had.

With his eyes squeezed shut, blocking out the sight of her, Lucien turned blindly away. His chest heaved with his breathing, his body hard, his blood hot. His cock ached with the pressure of unspent desire, every muscle burning with tension.

Damn her! He cursed the day he'd set eyes on Julienne La Coeur. His hands clenched into fists as he struggled to control the shaking of his body and the torment in his mind.

And then suddenly his cock was drenched in moist heat. Instinctively he tried to back away, but Julienne's hands gripped the cheeks of his ass and kept him still. He looked down, his eyes wide with stunned amazement, as she took more of his shaft into her delectable mouth.

In all of his life, with all of the women he'd been with, in all of the positions and places he'd been, Lucien had never seen anything as erotic as Julienne sucking his cock on her knees in the grass, her breasts spilling over the top of her gown, her lush form turned to silver in the moonlight.

Her attentions were unschooled, innocent, and all the more effective because of it. Her tongue swirled around the head, her mouth pulsing with a gentle suction, her fingertips kneading the clenching cheeks of his buttocks. She pulled her head back and then pushed forward again, her mouth stretched wide to accommodate his size.

Julienne rode his erection with heartening enthusiasm, making soft little humming noises as she sucked on him, and her enjoyment increased his a hundredfold. Unfamiliar with the act, she took him with shallow strokes, but the pleasure was still intense, brought on as much by her selfless giving as the burning that spread from his groin and coursed through his veins.

Lucien threw his head back and growled deep in his throat, his hands drifting into the golden curls at her nape, directing her rhythm, taking care not to completely disrupt the stylish arrangement of her hair. His hips pumped in an unconscious tempo, gently fucking her mouth, as his body sought the relief it could find only with Julienne. Her tongue dipped into the tiny hole at the tip of his cock, and his sac tightened, his shaft swelled. "Pull away, sweet," he gasped. "I'm close… I can't…"

Julienne ignored his direction and sucked him harder, driving him mad, until he came in an orgasm so intense he swayed on his feet, his seed flooding her mouth, pouring out the depth of his lust and longing. Lucien cried out her name, grateful she held his hips so he didn't fall to his knees and crush her. Blood roared in a raging torrent through his veins, making his ears ring and his eyesight fade to blackness.

He had never come so hard in his life, his cock jerking until he was emptied.

When Julienne rose to her feet, wiping her mouth with the palm of her glove, her lovely face was alight with satisfaction. Trembling, Lucien leaned against her in a weary embrace, sated to his very soul.

Chapter Six

Julienne held Lucien tightly to her, bearing his weight as best she could, her heart light and rilled with joy that she had given him such pleasure. She licked her lips, tasting him, and felt a surge of female triumph at her accomplishment. The sensation was heady. Unable to contain it, Julienne laughed with delight.

"You find this to be funny?" he asked, his husky voice tinged with wry amusement. "You will be the death of me."

She grinned. "I made you happy."

Lucien pulled back. His handsome face was flushed, misty with sweat, his beautiful eyes glazed with bliss. And she had made him look like that. She laughed again.

"Julienne." His voice was gruff but tender. "You're happy to have made me happy?"

She gave him a quick, fierce hug. "Of course." Pulling away, Julienne began to rearrange her dress, restoring her appearance. She watched as Lucien righted his own clothing. When he tried to reach for her, she sidestepped with a giggle. "Oh, no."

His mouth curved with a heart-stopping smile. "It's your turn, sweet."

She ran up the wide, grassy steps toward the manse, but he caught her easily and dipped his head for a kiss. Julienne savored the heady taste of him for a moment before pulling away.

"No, Lucien," she scolded, even as her heart raced at the seductive promise in his eyes. "You mustn't touch me again tonight. With your reputation, it would not be amiss for you to return to the ballroom looking as you do now, but if I were to return looking that way, it would be a disaster."

He ran his hand down her arm, grinning as he saw her shiver. "I shall feel like a selfish cad, sweetheart, if you don't allow me to pleasure you in return." Lucien bent his head to nuzzle her neck, but she backed away with a chastising wag of her finger.

"Now you see how I felt the other evening when you refused my touch." Julienne turned away and neatly avoided his grasping arms. "Remain in the garden for a few moments. I'm certain my aunt must be frantic by now. You may call on me tomorrow at two. Aunt Eugenia has an appointment, and she'll be gone for hours."

"Where shall I meet you?"

"Come through the mews. I'll find you."

The light in his eyes dimmed. "You're putting yourself at great risk to see me."

"I know."

Lucien was right, of course. But her reputation, so vital to the well-being of her family, stood no chance against her desire to steal whatever time she could with him. "But you're quite impossible to resist."

He grasped her elbow when she tried to move away. "You shouldn't like me, Julienne. I'm not good for you."

"Oh, Lucien." She sighed. She brushed his damp hair back from his face and watched his eyes close with pleasure at her touch. How she adored him, this beautiful, wicked man, with his carefully hidden honor. "You act as if I have more control over this than you."

She lifted onto her toes and pressed her lips to his with a soft moan. "Come tomorrow. Or not. The choice is yours." Turning quickly, Julienne left him in the garden.

"You look… respectable," Marchant said, with wide eyes. "What's the occasion?"

Lucien ignored him. "Did you compile the list I requested?"

"Prospective suitors for Lady Julienne? Of course." Marchant slid the file across the desk.

Scanning through it, Lucien grumbled, "Why is Fontaine at the top?"

Marchant arched a brow. "Besides being an extremely handsome marquess with seventeen estates, hundreds of servants, unlimited funds, and considered the catch of the Season by the entirety of the Beau Monde?"

Lucien snorted. "What about his personal life?"

"He's a known womanizer, but he doesn't gamble or drink to excess. I was unable to find any evidence of his siring any bastards."

"And socially?"

"He maintains his seat in the Lords, and he's held in high esteem by the peerage."

Lucien dropped the folder. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes, remembering the sight of Julienne kissing Fontaine.

From that recollection came unbidden images-Fontaine holding Julienne and caressing her luscious breasts. Fontaine riding between her thighs, plunging into the silken heat of her, as Lucien could not. Sick with jealousy, he clenched his teeth until his jaw ached.

Julienne was a lady to the core. Lucien knew he could do nothing but ruin her, nothing but cause her to be ostracized by her peers, shaming her, until her spirit was crushed and the affection in her eyes faded to bitter resentment.

"Mr. Remington? Are you feeling unwell? You look feverish."

Lucien opened his eyes. "I'm fine."

"Perhaps you should rest a bit. You've been working too hard lately."

Lucien stood and collected the folder. "No, I have an appointment."

"With whom? I see nothing on your schedule."

"It's none of your damn business," Lucien growled.

"Your attire…" Marchant glanced at the file in Lucien's hand. "Tell me you don't intend to call on Lady Julienne!"

For the first time, Lucien damned the high intelligence of his man-of-affairs.

But instead of censure, Marchant laughed. "Are you branching out into matchmaking, Lucien? Or do you hope to collect on Montrose's debt through his brother-in-law?"

"Go to hell, Harold," he growled.

Sobering, Marchant asked, "Are you quite certain you know what you're doing?"

"Of course."

"And what is it you're doing?"

Lucien paused on the threshold of his office. "The honorable thing. For once."

"Marriage prospects?" Julienne gaped at him, her dark eyes wide with disbelief.

Lucien clutched his hat in his hands. His throat was so tight, it was hard to swallow. Seeing Julienne's golden beauty in daylight made him think of all the things they'd never be allowed to do together. They would never go for rides in the park or strolls down the street. They could never enjoy a picnic or even the simple act of tea. Hell, he'd had to use subterfuge merely to exchange a few words with her. The harsh reminder strengthened his resolve. He had to remove her from his reach before he destroyed her.

Lowering himself to the chaise, Lucien nodded. "I know your brother has deserted you, sweet. You must marry quickly, and I thought perhaps I could assist you with that endeavor."

She set the folder on the seat between them, her eyes downcast, hiding her thoughts.

"Aren't you even going to look at it?"

"Certainly." She cast him a sidelong glance. "But you know far more about my circumstances than I do about yours. So, before I choose my future husband, I want to discover all there is to know about you."

He scowled. The less she knew about him, the better. "I dislike discussing myself."

"Why? I find you fascinating. Your deportment is faultless, your manners impeccable, your taste excellent. You've obviously had some schooling-"

"Didn't you listen to Fontaine last night? I'm a mongrel, a blight on Society."

"No, you are not," she argued. "I'm sorry you overheard that."

"It was nothing I haven't heard before." He smiled and reached for her hand. "Although I thank you for defending my honor."

The feel of her skin against his was heaven. And hell. He glanced down at their joined hands, hers so pale, so tiny and delicate. Lucien remembered the feel of those hands on his body, their gentle exploration belying her ravenous hunger for him. Knowing he would soon lose her touch forever made his heart ache.

Julienne bit her lower lip. "Why say such horrid things about you merely because you are in trade?"

"'Tis more than that, Julienne." He was silent for a moment, wanting to hide the things she didn't know. But the moment was intimate, her gaze tender, and he found himself sharing the things he discussed with no one. "I'm a bastard by birth."

She didn't even blink. "You have no control over such things!"

"It gets worse," he said dryly, squeezing her hand in silent appreciation. "I am the product of a long-term affair between a courtesan and a nobleman."

"Good heavens!"

Lucien waited for her to put the pieces together. It took only a moment.

"Remington. Your mother is Amanda Remington? The famous demimondaine?"

He nodded, and wondered if Julienne would think less of him now that she knew he was the bastard son of a prostitute. A very wealthy, extremely discriminating, and, for the last thirty years, monogamous prostitute, but a one-time whore nevertheless. It was common knowledge. The fact that Julienne knew nothing of it proved once again how far removed their existences were from one another.

"How romantic," she sighed, and Lucien almost fell off the chaise. "You're a love child! How lucky you are."

He stared at her, agape.

With gentle fingertips, Julienne urged his mouth closed. "Your blood is almost as blue as mine, Lucien. No wonder you carry yourself with such pride."

"Are you quite mad?"

"Beg your pardon?"

He shook his head. It was almost as if she didn't see his tarnish. Or perhaps she didn't care… The possibility made his heart race, a tiny flame of hope sparking to life within him.

"Julienne, every moment I spend with you brings you closer to ruin. Why don't you see that? I'm a hedonistic, self-centered bastard who has taken liberties with you that deserve to get me drawn and quartered. Beheaded. Hanged. Shot. Run through-"

"Fine," she said sharply, pulling her hand from his and straightening her spine.

"Fine?"

"Yes. Fine. You are a horrible, wretched excuse for a man. Is that what you want me to say? Do you feel better?" She lifted the folder and opened it. "I will choose a husband posthaste so you will have no further need to seek me out."

Julienne looked briefly at the column of names, then snapped the folder shut. "The Marquess of Fontaine, it is."

Lucien's hands clenched right along with his jaw. He was ashamed by how badly her words cut him when it was his own ill humor that had goaded her into saying them. Stung, he spoke rudely.

"Fontaine will never be faithful to you. He's just like me. He'll bed anything in a skirt."

"I know." Her voice held no censure, no sadness.

Her ready acceptance of another man, one who didn't deserve her any more than he did, infuriated Lucien.

"That doesn't disturb you?" he bit out.

"Certainly I wish things could be different," she admitted, her fingers fidgeting with the file. "But it's a common arrangement, Lucien. You are lucky to have two parents who care deeply for each other. They've been together for many years, have they not? Your mother and the duke?"

So, she knew who his father was. "Yes, almost two-score years now."

"A lifetime of happiness. Some of us will have only fleeting moments of it. Your birth is nothing to be ashamed of. You have choices, many paths you can take. Some of us have only one."

"And what of your happiness?" he asked harshly.

Julienne's smile was brittle. "I am one of those born with only one choice."

Lucien swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the folder. He recalled every name it contained, men who were considered his superior because their parents had married while his had not. He had more money than every one of them, more property, more affection for Julienne.

If she would give up her station for him, he would give her the world.

Words tumbled out of his mouth before he thought them through. "If you are so open to having a philandering husband, why not wed me?"

The file slipped from her hands, papers spilling out and spreading all over the floor. She dropped to her knees, scrambling to gather the sheets together.

Lucien joined her, noting the shaking of her hands and her rapid breathing. He said nothing, startled by what he'd asked and afraid to say something that would affect her decision.

Long, torturous moments passed in silence.

"Aren't you going to answer?" he asked finally, unable to bear the suspense any longer.

"Beg your pardon?" She turned her head to look at him, her expression bemused.

"Bloody hell! I just asked you to marry me."

Her lashes lowered, shuttering her gaze. Julienne hesitated before choosing her words carefully. "While I admit to the need for haste, I'm not desperate. I have several excellent prospects. There is no need for you to make such a sacrifice."

Lucien stared blindly ahead. He'd never imagined proposing to anyone, but he also never imagined being refused. He felt ill. Maybe Marchant was right. Perhaps he had caught the fever.

He set his hand atop hers, stilling its movement. "I realize I cannot compete socially with your other suitors, Julienne, but financially I can hold my own with any of them." He steeled himself inwardly and then bared his thoughts. "I want you in my bed. I need to be inside you so badly, I'm about to lose my mind, and I'm beginning to think one time won't be enough. It might take weeks, months, to rid myself of this craving. It doesn't matter how many women I take, and hell, I've had at least a dozen since-"

"Stop!" she cried, leaping to her feet. "I don't want to know."

Lucien straightened, staring at the top of her downcast head. "Julienne." His voice dropped seductively. "I'm extremely wealthy. I can help your brother, and I can give you everything Fontaine can, except for a title. Is a title so important to you?"

She lifted her chin, her gaze soft and liquid with tears. "No. A title does not matter to me, Lucien."

He reached out and captured her hand. "Then take me," he urged, sweat misting his skin. "I'll take care of everything. I'll take care of you."

"Oh, Lucien," Julienne breathed. "I cannot."

"Why?"

Her chin quivered. "Because I couldn't bear to share you if you were mine."

Lucien was stunned. "But you will tolerate a peer's indiscretions? I don't understand."

"I know." She sighed miserably. "We must forget this conversation. Your friendship is important to me, Lucien. I-"

"Friendship?" His hands tightened brutally on hers. She winced, but he couldn't make himself release her. "We are more than friends, Julienne. My fingers have been inside you. I've held your naked body against mine. You have taken my cock in your mouth-"

She covered his mouth with her hand. "Please, don't be angry. I would never take advantage of your desire by forcing you into marriage. You would be miserable tied down in such a way, which would, in turn, make me miserable. I can meet with you. We can arrange to-"

"You will fuck me," he snapped, "but not wed me?" He broke into a sweat, even though his heart was cold.

A tear rolled down her cheek, breaking him, and he fought back in self-defense.

"You act as if my background and social standing were of no consequence to you, but that's a lie, Julienne. You consider me beneath you. Not worthy of marriage. I'm good enough to fuck, but nothing more." Lucien dropped her hand and turned away. He didn't trust himself to touch her. He might do something completely idiotic-like drop to his knees and beg.

"That's not true!" she cried. "You know that's not true."

He shot her a furious glance, and the sight of her tore at him. Her lush mouth, which had loved his body so ardently the night before, was quivering, and she was struggling to hold back tears.

The damned thing was, so was he.

Without a word, Lucien strode through the open French, doors and out to the garden beyond. He heard Julienne calling his name, her voice choked and pleading, but he couldn't go back.

God, how he wanted her! His hands were shaking and his breath shuddering as he mounted his horse in the mews. He was completely undone, knowing, as he pulled away from Julienne's home, that it would be the last time he ever spoke to her.

Chapter Seven

Julienne watched Lucien boldly, uncaring who saw her. After weeks of self-imposed exile, he'd reappeared in Society looking leaner and paler, the skin around his eyes shadowed. He didn't look well, but to Julienne he looked wonderful. Beautifully dressed in evening attire, he stood out from the crowd, his presence so compelling and so uncivilized despite his refined exterior.

Lucien must have felt her regard. He turned his head and met her gaze, his expression altering not at all upon seeing her. He turned back to his companion, a voluptuous and obviously smitten woman of the world. An experienced femme fatale, with flame-red hair and lips, who held his arm and rubbed her full breasts against it, while Lucien sliced Julienne through the heart with the cut direct.

She reminded herself that she'd never had a claim to him. Even when he'd rashly offered marriage, Lucien had never agreed to be hers. But that didn't stop her from feeling as if she would cast up her accounts all over the ballroom floor.

"What are you contemplating, Lady Julienne?" Fontaine asked as he leaned over her.

"I'm thinking you should ask me to dance."

Her handsome suitor's mouth curved in a smile that caused other women to swoon, yet affected Julienne not at all. "Another dance?" he murmured. "How deliciously scandalous."

With consummate skill, he moved her from the edge of the dance floor and into the line of waiting couples. As the music began and they moved with the other dancers, she watched Lucien lead the redhead to a deserted corner, his hand cupping the curve of her derriere. Dismayed, Julienne missed a step. Fontaine's arm tightened, supporting her, his quick response preventing any embarrassment for them.

"Thank you," she said, with a grateful smile, swallowing back her misery.

Justin tilted his head in acknowledgment. "We rub along well together."

"Yes," she agreed. "We do."

His gaze filled with satisfaction. Their nuptials were quickly becoming a foregone conclusion. Soon, very soon, Julienne would have to explain her brother's plight. Raised an aristocrat, the same as she was, the present Marquess of Fontaine knew the workings of upper-tier marriages, and her situation, while pitiable, was fairly common. In fact, she was almost certain he already knew of her brother's troubles.

When the reel ended, Justin escorted her back to Aunt Eugenia before departing for another event. Try as she might, and she did try, Julienne couldn't stop herself from looking for Lucien. When she found him, she clasped a gloved hand over her mouth, containing a sob. Lucien was leaning over his red-haired lover, whispering in her ear and nuzzling her throat, the picture of rapturous attentiveness.

"Excuse me, Aunt Eugenia." She turned away, her chest tight. "I have to sneeze." She moved with haste toward the nearest hallway.

Afraid to go into the ladies' retiring room and hazard running into other guests, Julienne made her way farther down the hall, where unlit tapers offered privacy. She slipped into the third closed door and shut it behind her. For a moment, she was blind in the darkness, but she stumbled her way to an open-sided chaise, where she threw herself down and began to cry in earnest. Arrested by grief, she didn't hear the bolt slide home. When a large, ungloved hand covered her mouth, her eyes flew open in shock.

And clashed with Lucien's furious gaze.

His intent was obvious as he covered her body with his own. Removing his hand, he replaced it with his lips, his wonderful scent overpowered by brandy, which filled her nostrils and flavored his kisses. Her heart raced and her chest ached as she struggled for air, her body coming to immediate arousal, needing him like it needed food and water.

Julienne tasted blood as her teeth cut the soft insides of her lips. He tasted it, too, and it seemed to inflame him, his ardor mounting until he took her mouth with savage intensity. A delicious shudder heated her body. Against her will, she arched upward into his cock, wanting him… needing him to fill the emptiness he'd left behind.

Lucien groaned at her response, his hands wandering possessively over her curves, the heat of his erection burning through her satin gown. His feet slipped between her own and then slid outward, forcing her legs as far apart as her dress would allow.

Where once there had been tender exploration and affection, there now was only pain and fury. Lucien's hand gripped her breast convulsively, hurtfully, making her wince. Julienne's hands moved off the chaise, sliding under his coat and waistcoat, tearing at his buttons in her desperation to get to his skin. Lucien yanked her skirts upward, ripping her stockings. The delicate threads of her gown popped, protesting his rough treatment. He lifted his mouth, and she gasped for air.

"You've ruined me." His hands shook as they reached under her skirts. "I've been unable to bed another woman… since the last time I touched you."

She smothered a sob, hating the thought that he'd even tried, and deeply, endlessly relieved that he'd failed.

"Julienne…"

"Go to your whore," she cried, even as she held him tightly to her. Even as she prayed he wouldn't.

"Damn you to hell!" he cursed, gripping her thigh with bruising strength. "You're so willing to discard me."

His fingers reached her sex, and he gave a tortured groan. "So wet, almost dripping. Can anyone else make you feel like this, Julienne? Or is this only for me?"

"Lucien-"

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked hoarsely as he slid his fingers inside her.

She tried to pull away, but her traitorous body welcomed him with a rush of moisture. "I don't want… y-your anger…"

"You want me," he whispered savagely. "But you'll send me to another's bed." His damp cheek pressed against hers, his hot breath burning across her ear. "That woman out there-she's desperate for me, Julienne, as mad for me as you are, but she won't turn me away. In an hour, I'll be deep inside of her, and she'll be screaming my name… while you rot in your virginal bed."

"Bastard," she sobbed, her hands fisting against his back. "Why are you doing this?"

"Tell me to stop, and I will." His mouth moved feverishly, pressing openmouthed kisses against her neck.

"Go to hell!"

"Ah, sweet," he murmured, his velvety voice filling with sadness, his thrusting fingers never ceasing their torment. "You can't say it, can you? You crave me too much."

Julienne moaned as the pleasure built, Lucien's fingers slipping easily through the cream that flowed from her, pumping faster and faster, making her writhe with the need for more than just this.

"Does it feel good, my love?" He pressed his damp forehead to hers. "Your cunt is so drenched, so hot and tight. I could fuck you properly, Julienne. Ram my cock in you until you scream with pleasure. Would you like that?"

She pressed herself against him, her hips lifting to give him greater access. "Lucien…"

He ground his erection into her leg. "You'll miss me when you're married to your philandering marquess." He nuzzled the side of her face. "But I'll accommodate you when you want to be held like this… pleasured like this. Wear those trousers and come to my club."

"I hate you for this," she sobbed. And she hated herself for loving him anyway.

"Show me how much you hate me, Julienne. I want to feel it when you come around my fingers."

Lucien reached farther into her, stroking skillfully. And she climaxed on his command, a white hot, exploding orgasm that had her moaning his name. He swallowed her pleasured cries in his mouth, groaning along with her, holding her shuddering body tightly against him.

When it was over, Julienne gasped for air and strengthened her resolve. Before Lucien could pull away, she bucked upward, forcing his fingers from her and throwing him to the floor. She was atop him in an instant, straddling his thighs and shoving his palms under her knees, using the weight of her body to pin his hands to the floor. She drew off her long gloves and tore open the placket of his breeches.

He growled. "What are you doing?"

Staring down at his handsome features, Julienne watched the play of emotions that burned in his gaze. Her hands pulled his cock free and gripped him firmly. Her smile was feral.

"You won't have anything left for that woman by the time I'm done with you, Lucien Remington." She bent forward and licked his bottom lip, savoring his taste. Her hands slid along the hot length of his shaft, loving the feel of him. "I'm going to wring you dry."

"I could throw you off easily," he threatened.

"Ah, but you won't." Her thumbs drifted over the engorged head, feeling the slickness of his seed everywhere. "You crave me too much."

He squeezed his eyes closed with a curse, unable to deny it.

"Did you come when I did, Lucien?" She lubricated her palms and then curled her hands around him. "How terribly naughty of you. But you're still so hard, ready to do it again."

His hips began to pump upward as she used both hands to stroke him off. "Jesus… Julienne…" Sweat dripped from his brow, dampening the inky hair on his forehead.

"What a shame for your trollop," she murmured. "I have no experience with male anatomy, but I know you're well-endowed. So hot and huge. My hands can barely close around your cock." She pressed her mouth against his ear. "Like a wild stallion. But that woman out there won't have the pleasure of riding you tonight." Biting the lobe of his ear, she whispered hotly, "You will never be mine, but for tonight, at least, you won't be hers either."

Lucien growled.

His fingers flexed against her kneecaps, and his shaft pulsed in her hands. Julienne memorized the beauty of his face flushed with passion, his gorgeous eyes narrowed and watching her, his mouth swollen and parted on heaving gasps. She stroked him faster, running her thumbs over the slickness on the tip, wanting to give him pleasure. Pumping her fists with greater and greater urgency, Julienne relished the guttural cries that tore from his throat.

She loved the feel of him, soft satin over steel, and the way he liked to be pleasured, hard and primitive. His entire body tensed beneath her, his cock swelled in her hands, telling her how close he was.

"Come for me, darling," she urged. "Come until there's nothing left for any other woman."

He cursed, and then twisted his hips, releasing his seed in powerful spurts across the rug. Julienne continued to attend to him, drawing out everything he had, until her hands were covered in his semen, until Lucien slumped in exhaustion, his body twitching, his breathing labored.

Only then did she release him. She brushed featherlight kisses across his closed lids and parted lips, all the while carefully unwinding his cravat. Then she wiped her hands off with it. She stood and tossed the ruined linen on his chest.

"Good-bye, Lucien."

Glorious with anger, she left him spent on the floor.

Chapter Eight

Julienne collected Aunt Eugenia and left the ball immediately.

She was relieved to return to Montrose Hall. With her emotions in turmoil, she longed for a glass of sherry and a warm bath. As the butler closed the door behind them, their housekeeper approached with a letter in hand. "Lord Montrose returned this evening, my lady. I was told to present this to you upon your return."

"Dear heaven," Eugenia muttered. "What now?"

Julienne opened the missive and read quickly. Furious, she stomped her slippered foot on the marble floor. "The idiot returned to London only to leave straight away for a party."

"A party? With what we've been through these last weeks?"

"I will need my cloak back," Julienne informed the startled butler. "And have the carriage brought around again."

"No, Julienne."

She turned wide-eyed to her aunt.

Eugenia shook her head. "Our position is too precarious. Risking your reputation at a time like this could lead to our ruin. I'm ashamed of myself for allowing Hugh to run wild like this, and I'm ashamed that you've been the one to go haring after him every time." She sighed. "I haven't done a very good job of being the disciplinarian, I'm afraid. It's time I corrected that. I shall be the one to go after him."

Julienne leaned over and kissed her aunt's cheek. "You've done a remarkable job. But you'll have to trust me. The places Hugh frequents would make you swoon, and we can't have that."

"Oh, I don't know about that. I was married, and you're just a-"

"Do you know what a dildo is?"

Eugenia's eyes widened. "Good grief!"

"Or the Kama Sutra?"

Eugenia waved her hands in front of her face. "Of course, I've heard of such things, but for you to have been exposed… Good heavens."

"See? You're already on the verge of a fit of vapors." Julienne grabbed her aunt's elbow and led her toward the stairs. "I shall see to Hugh."

"You cannot go back to Remington's! If Fontaine were to hear of it-"

"I don't believe Hugh went to Remington's," she said dryly. "He owes too much money there."

"Too much… Oh, dear God, we're ruined!" Eugenia shook her head, resigned.

"Now, now. Order some hot tea and settle in. Don't worry yourself. I will locate Hugh, and we'll sort this entire mess out." She prodded her aunt up the stairs.

"I don't feel right about you going out alone at this hour, Julienne."

"I know," she soothed. "I won't be gone long."

"The last time you said that, you spent the night with Lucien Remington!"

"Aunt Eugenia!" Julienne glanced around the foyer in dismay. "Keep your voice down!"

Her aunt grumbled her way up the stairs, glancing down at the foyer indecisively every few steps.

Julienne moved into the study to wait for the carriage, and poured herself two fingers of Hugh's expensive brandy. She lifted the tumbler and downed the contents, coughing and wincing as the potent liquor burned its way down her throat.

Her body still hummed vibrantly from her earlier orgasm, but deep inside, her heart was cold. The things Lucien had said… that woman he was with…

No. She couldn't think of that now, or she would go mad.

She had to think about Hugh, who was in for a surprise. She was weary of his irresponsibility, and at the present moment, she was furious with every male on the planet.

Her brother was about to discover that firsthand.

It was nearly dawn, and Julienne was close to exhaustion by the time the carriage pulled up to the fourth house. She was relying on her coachman to find her brother based on his knowledge of Hugh's favorite haunts. This was her final stop. If this was not the correct party, she would return to Montrose Hall and wait for Hugh there.

Her footman climbed the steps and made the necessary inquiries. Moments later, he opened the carriage door. "Lord Montrose arrived an hour past, my lady."

"Good." She alighted from the carriage and wrapped her cloak tighter around her.

As she walked up the short staircase, Julienne admired the grand Georgian design. It was large for a townhouse, and the beautifully maintained facade proudly boasted the wealth of its owner. The door was held open, and she swept right in, using the hood of her cloak to hide her face.

She found her brother in a richly appointed billiards room, surrounded by a large and boisterous group of gentlemen and demimondaines. Julienne waited for him to notice her in the doorway, unwilling to risk stepping inside. Hugh laughed at a pretty brunette's witticism and then glanced her way. Despite her hood and cloak, he recognized her. His humor fled, turning into wide-eyed, mouth-agape horror. He left his companions without a word and hastened toward her with his long-legged stride. Gripping her elbow, he pulled her into the shadows.

Hugh La Coeur was renowned for a great many things in addition to his propensity for hedonism. He was a beautiful male specimen, with golden hair and dark, heavy-lidded eyes.

He'd emerged victorious from two duels, and was considered to be an expert marksman and swordsman. If only he'd focus that level of intensity on making money, they could climb out of the financial mire they were in now.

"Jules, what the devil are you doing here?" he cried.

"What do you think, Hugh?" Her voice rose with anger. "You irresponsible, self-centered-"

He clamped a tobacco-scented hand over her mouth and tugged her down the hall. Opening a closed door, he pushed her into a dimly lit parlor. "If Fontaine heard word of your presence in this house, it would be a disaster!"

Julienne pulled her arm from his grip. "And then he might not be inclined to offer for me, and you would be ruined in debt. I can well collect your concern."

Hugh had the decency to flush. "You would be ruined as well," he pointed out gruffly.

"At this point, Hugh, I would find the loss of my reputation to be worth it if you would learn your lesson." She slashed her hand through the air. "Your rakehell days are over. I've come to like Lord Fontaine. It troubles me to think of his money being used to pay for your selfish indulgences. I will not allow him to support you forever. You must do your duty to the title. You need to maintain the estates, make the tenants happy, and find someone you can trust to make some investments for you."

Hugh gaped. "Hell's teeth! I will not engage in trade!"

"Swallow your pride," she snapped. "You have squandered centuries of Le Coeur heritage in less than a decade. Now you must find a way to rebuild it." She crossed her arms and lifted her chin. "And you will start doing so immediately. You no longer have the luxury of parties such as these. You should be home, sleeping, in preparation for the day's hard work on the morrow."

"Damnation." His hands went to his hips. "I will not be dictated to!"

"And you will not whore me out to pay for your lifestyle!"

Hugh was shocked into silence. He was still young enough that his hard living had not yet etched its passing on his handsome face, but that wouldn't last long. If he continued on his present course of endless indulgences, he would age before his time. But Julienne would fight tooth and nail before she allowed that to happen.

He lowered his head. "Ah hell, Jules. You are correct, as usual. I'm dreadfully sorry for having gotten us into this morass." He ran a hand through his hair and looked at her with suddenly weary eyes. "I'm not suited to being Montrose. I never have been. You have no idea how often I wish Father and Mother were still alive. I miss them, and I had so much yet to learn…"

"I understand, Hugh, truly. But you are the only one who can do this," she said with a sigh. "We all have responsibilities in life. This is your burden to bear. I will assist you as best I can and help you find your footing, but you will have to do what is necessary to keep yourself there."

He began to pace. "Have you discussed our situation with Fontaine?"

"Not yet."

"But Jules," Hugh cried, "you have to tell him."

Julienne narrowed her eyes. "Exactly how much trouble are we in?"

He flushed, and her gut clenched.

"Cut to the heart of it," she ordered. "I don't have the stomach to listen to an accounting of every shilling."

Hugh quit pacing and faced her squarely. "It's mostly gambling debts."

"I'm aware of that. How much, Hugh?" She rubbed the space between her brows, fighting off a headache.

"Well, I owe White's twenty thousand pounds and-"

"Twenty thousand?" she screeched.

"Hush, Jules!" He winced and shot a glance at the door. "Perhaps you should sit."

"Good heavens," she muttered, her eyes widening. Julienne began to tap her foot in a rapid staccato on the Aubusson rug. "Tell me that is your largest creditor."

"Now, Julienne, I realize-"

"Out with it. We don't have all night."

"We should discuss this at home."

"Oh, no. Right here will be sufficient." She arched a brow. "Who is your largest creditor, and how much do you owe them?"

Hugh's shoulders slumped. "Remington's. I owe one hundred thousand pounds."

Julienne swayed on her feet. "One hundred thousand?" she breathed as the blood drained from her face. "To Lucien Remington?"

He reached out to steady her. "Don't faint, Jules," he pleaded. "I'm sorry about all of this, but that bastard Remington kept my accounts open. White's cut me off at twenty thousand, but-"

"No more!" she snapped, pushing him away. "Don't blame Lucien Remington for your weakness. I will not have you disparaging him in any way. Do you understand? In any way. He has made something of himself, built an empire. You have done this to us. You alone are responsible."

Hugh recoiled from her sharp tone, one she'd never used with him before. "He could ruin us!"

"And who gave him that power?" she countered.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off with an upraised hand. "I'm exhausted, and I don't wish to discuss your problems anymore this evening. Fetch your cloak. We're leaving."

As the door to the parlor closed, the two intertwined figures on the settee separated, and one sat up.

"Fascinating," Amanda murmured, as she straightened her bodice.

Magnus, Duke of Glasser, brushed aside her dark hair to nuzzle her neck. "Not as fascinating as what I have right here," he murmured wickedly.

"Glass, for heaven's sake. Don't you realize we've just met our future daughter-in-law?" She brushed his roving hands away.

The duke heaved a long-suffering sigh and sat up beside her. "We didn't meet anyone. We eavesdropped. And it sounded like the chit has her claws in Fontaine. Why would she want Charles?"

"Charles?" She rolled her eyes. "For heaven's sake, Glass, pay attention. I'm talking about Lucien."

"Lucien?" he queried, obviously confused. "She's an earl's daughter. And from the sound of it, she's well on her way to being a marchioness. What would she want with Lucien?"

"What woman wouldn't want Lucien? He's the spitting image of you, handsome devil that you are." She smiled seductively. "And didn't you hear Lady Julienne defend him? There's something afoot there. She likes him."

"Lots of women like Lucien," Magnus pointed out with a good dollop of fatherly pride. "Doesn't mean he wants to marry them. Who knows if he's even met the gel before?"

Amanda attempted to restore some order to her hair. "Trust me, darling. A woman knows these things. Lady Julienne took a personal offense to Montrose's comments. I can assure you, they've met. You'll see I'm right."

She squealed as she was tackled back onto the settee.

"I've got something to show you," the duke growled. "Right here."

"You look awful."

Lucien scowled as he paced the empty hazard room of Remington's. "To hell with you, too, Marchant."

His man-of-affairs laughed. "It's unusually early for you to be here."

"You're here," Lucien retorted.

"I'm always here at this time." Marchant sighed at Lucien's skeptical glance. "You truly have no idea what you pay me for, do you?"

Lucien paused in his pacing and glared. "I'm certain I don't pay you to harass and insult me, so be on your way."

"I have something to discuss with you, Lucien."

"Not now. I'm not in the mood."

"It is precisely your present mood that necessitates my speaking with you."

"Bloody hell and damnation!" Lucien leaned against a hazard table and crossed his arms, his head throbbing viciously. "Out with it then. And make haste."

"I gave you some bad advice the other day."

Lucien arched a brow. "Not something you want to tell me, Harold. One of the things I pay you for is your advice. If it's not worth hearing, I may sack you."

"The employee in me is quaking in his boots," Marchant said wryly. "But as your friend, I must continue regardless."

Lucien closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. God help him.

"I don't think you should allow Lady Julienne to marry any of the men on that list I compiled."

Lucien's eyes flew open. "Why? What's wrong with them?"

"'Tis not what's wrong with them, but what's wrong with you." Marchant's eyes were kind behind his spectacles. "You're lovesick."

"I am not!"

"You are. You're barely tolerable. The employees are avoiding you, the customers are steering clear of your company, you've been drinking yourself into a stupor every night, and instead of going home, you've been staying in your rooms upstairs."

"I own the damn place!" Lucien growled. "I can spend the night here if I wish."

"You are staying in the Sapphire Room because of her," Marchant argued.

Lucien lowered his head. There was no point in denying it. His man-of-affairs was too bright. "You told me to stay away from her, Harold."

"I thought she was merely a temporary amusement. Now it's obvious to me, and to everyone else, that she means far more to you than that."

"My feelings don't signify. I'm not worthy of her."

Marchant sighed. "Will you be able to live with yourself knowing she is married to someone else? A man you see regularly here within the walls of your own establishment? Will you be able to hold your tongue, and your fists, when he makes use of the courtesans while the woman you covet waits at home for him? How will you feel when Lord Fontaine comes in to celebrate the birth of their children?"

"That's enough!" Lucien shouted, his chest tight with fury and misery. To think of Julienne belonging to another man was too much to bear. If he couldn't have her, he didn't want anyone else to have her either. But that wasn't the way it would be. And somehow, he would have to find the strength to live with that.

"There are some mistakes we can live with, and others we can't. Only you can determine which kind of mistake this is." Marchant turned to walk away.

"Harold."

The man-of-affairs paused.

"Thank you."

"Lucien, darling. Punctual, as always."

Lucien smiled affectionately at his mother as he was shown into her parlor. Shades of pink and mauve embellished with gilt and satin made the room an entirely feminine retreat. Leaning over her, he kissed both of her cheeks. "You look stunning, Mother."

She waited until he took the seat opposite her before beginning tea. "You look like hell," she said bluntly. "Have you lost weight?" She handed Lucien a cup and saucer. "Pining for Lady Julienne La Coeur?"

Startled, Lucien fumbled with his cup, cursing as he spilt the hot liquid. "Beg your pardon?" Setting the saucer down, he stuck his burnt fingers in his mouth.

"I said you look like hell."

"I heard that part," he muttered, wiping his hand on a linen napkin. "It was the rest of it I missed."

"No, you didn't. I met your love last night."

Lucien blinked, his head spinning. "What did you say?"

Amanda dropped two lumps of sugar into her tea. "She's lovely and feisty."

"Julienne was here?" He shot to his feet. "Last night?"

"Sit down, Lucien. I shall get a neck cramp looking up at you."

Frowning, he sat.

His Julienne? Here? In the midst of London's demimonde? He flushed.

"It bothers you that she was here?" his mother asked.

"Why was she here?"

Amanda smiled. "She was dragging her scapegrace brother home."

Lucien stood again. "Montrose is back?" He swallowed hard. This was dreadful. Now Fontaine could pay his addresses.

"Lucien, please! Sit down."

Again he dropped dutifully into the seat. "What happened?" he asked hoarsely, fighting off a mild panic.

"She was quite firm with him, scolding him and ordering him to start accepting his responsibilities."

Lucien couldn't hold back a smile. Fierce, passionate, no-nonsense Julienne.

Amanda smiled over the rim of her cup. "And when Montrose made a nasty comment about you, she defended you. I wish you could have heard her. She was magnificent."

The nausea he'd been fighting all morning suddenly worsened.

Last night. After the things he'd done and said to her, Julienne had defended him anyway.

His head dropped into his hands. Damnation. He would have felt better if she'd maligned him right along with her brother.

This morning he'd been certain there was no more wretched person on earth than himself. He'd believed it wasn't possible to feel any worse.

But he did. Much worse.

How would he ever make amends to her? Fueled by brandy, jealousy had eaten him alive. Julienne had spoken with Fontaine at length. The sight of them together had crushed him further. They presented a dashing couple-two perfect, blond, beautiful aristocrats. The handsome marquess had staked an obvious claim to Julienne, and Lucien had wanted nothing more than to rip them apart.

He'd determined to make her as jealous as he was, to force her to share in his misery. But when he'd succeeded, when she'd fled the room in obvious distress, he'd followed, unable to do otherwise. The smell of her, the feel of her skin, the taste of her mouth-he'd been consumed by a singular madness. To give her up, to lose her, was nigh unbearable, and he'd wanted her to say she felt the same. He'd wanted her to fight for him, and when she had, when she'd turned the tables, he'd wanted her even more.

"Lucien?" His mother's voice was filled with concern.

He slid his hands through his hair and laced them at the back of his neck. He looked at his mother with a pained smile. "I've made a mess of things again."

The parlor door opened.

"Good morning!" the duke greeted as he entered.

Lucien rose from his chair and extended his hand to the man with whom he bore a remarkable resemblance. "Good morning, Your Grace."

"You look terrible, son."

"So I've been told. Repeatedly."

"Your father thinks Lady Julienne would be perfect for Haverston," Amanda murmured.

"What?" Lucien's eyes widened in horror. There was one way for his life to become more hellish than it presently was, and that was for his younger brother, Charles, the present Marquess of Haverston and future Duke of Glasser, to court or (heaven forbid!) marry his Julienne.

His Grace shot a glance at his longtime paramour. "Seems you were correct, love," he conceded dryly.

Amanda smiled with triumph. "Am I not always?"

The duke grunted and bent to kiss her upraised cheek. "I must depart. Carolyn is having some sort of soiree this weekend, and I'm expected to attend."

"Of course," she replied, showing no sign of hurt or dismay at the mention of the Duchess of Glasser. After all their years together, she was confident in the extent of the duke's love for her and was aware that after the birth of Charles, the heir, he had never touched his wife again. "Return to me at your soonest."

"Never doubt it." Magnus kissed her again.

Lucien watched the exchange as he had often done over the years, but today the scene held new poignancy. It was a harsh reminder that people did not marry below their class. If he were honest with himself, he would admit that the most he could hope for would be to become Julienne's lover after her marriage. The arrangement could almost be perfect. He would not have to marry, and Julienne could have the title she deserved. But Lucien knew he could never share her with another man, and Julienne would never consent to such an arrangement in any case. She took her responsibilities seriously and would never betray her husband, even if that husband were unfaithful to her.

After the duke left, his mother returned her attention to him. "Do you intend to allow Lady Julienne to marry Fontaine?"

"I have no choice."

"Why not?"

"I offered to marry her, and she refused."

"Lucien!" Amanda's brow creased with a frown, something she never allowed herself to do because she feared it would cause wrinkles. "You love her." It was a statement, not a question.

Lucien lifted his cup. "I lust for her."

She sighed. "For heaven's sake, darling, I am your mother. You cannot lie to me."

"That's not a lie."

"Surely there's more to it than that."

"Such as?" he muttered. First Marchant, now his mother. Was everyone determined to meddle in his life?

Amanda set her clasped hands on the edge of the table. "Such as why she was so quick to rush to your defense? Against her brother, no less. And one hundred thousand quid, Lucien? You would never have allowed Montrose to become so far in your debt without a motive." Her eyes lit with discovery. "Are you planning to use the earl's misfortune to obtain his sister? Something so underhanded sounds just like you."

"Thank you for the glowing estimation of my character, Mother." But what an interesting idea. He was surprised he hadn't come up with it himself.

Amanda pounced on his telltale smile. "What is your plan?" she queried eagerly.

"I don't have a plan. I was biding my time until one presented itself."

"Come now. You always have a plan. 'Tis how you acquired greater wealth than your brother."

"Mother," Lucien began with quiet emphasis, "I'm not certain what impression you received from Julienne last evening, but I can assure you, she is not in charity with me at the moment."

His mother frowned again. "Do you want her?"

"Of course," he admitted. "I just don't know in what way I want her. Or for how long, which is why she refused my suit." Of course, he'd botched the entire affair by accusing her of things she wasn't capable of and then storming out…

"Tell me what was said, and I'll tell you where you erred."

He laughed. "Why is the mistake assumed to be mine?"

She leaned forward, and Lucien was caught by the earnest intensity of her voice. "You deserve to be happy. If Lady Julienne makes you happy, you should fight to the death for her. You are worthy of a highborn bride. Never doubt that."

"I'm not worthy of Julienne." There was no bitterness in his voice, just quiet resignation.

Raw hurt glittered in his mother's eyes. "I am the only difference between you and Fontaine. You are wealthier, you are more handsome, and your blood is almost as blue. Are you ashamed of me, Lucien? Is it because your mother is a courtesan that you feel unworthy of Julienne La Coeur?"

"No." He reached across the table for her delicate hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "It has nothing to do with you. I've never been a good man, never aspired to be one, and I've been perfectly content. I have no desire to change. Julienne is an angel, the purest thing I've ever known. Agreeing to my suit would alienate her from the only life she's ever known. Eventually she would grow to hate me for that."

"I think you underestimate her strength, Lucien. You may find that you won't make her a lesser woman. Instead she may make you a better man." Amanda shot him a quizzical glance. "Does your bastardy offend her?"

"No." Lucien smiled. "She thinks your affair is 'romantic.'"

"And so it is," she said, with a smug smile. "I liked the girl last night. I like her even more now. She seems a very practical sort."

Lucien arched a brow. "I recognize that look. Stay out of my private affairs, Mother. I do an excellent job of botching them up on my own. I don't require any assistance." He stood. "I have to go now. I have work to do."

"And a lot to think about as well."

He grinned affectionately and ignored her comment. "I shall see you next week."

As her son left, Amanda Remington sat back in her chair and contemplated her next course of action. She knew what her son needed, even if he didn't.

And she would see that he got it.

Chapter Nine

Hugh La Coeur, the sixth Earl of Montrose, paused on the step of his carriage and grimaced at the imposing three-story, columned entrance to Remington's. The morning sun shone brightly on the white facade as various members of the peerage exited and entered the popular gentlemen's club. Behind him, traffic was heavy on St. James. The steady clatter of rolling carriage wheels, horses' hooves, and harnesses reminded him that life was still bustling forward for the rest of London, while he prepared to face his largest and most ruthless creditor.

With a deep, fortifying breath, Hugh climbed the steps to the watered-glass, double-door entrance. A footman in black-and-silver livery welcomed him inside, and Hugh handed his hat, gloves, and cane to one of two waiting attendants. He stepped into the round entrance foyer, with its black-and-white marbled floors, and again admired the massive chandelier that hung three stories up, with a large round table centered below it. A gigantic floral arrangement dominated the center of the table, its heady fragrance permeating every corner of the foyer.

Straight ahead was the gaming area. From there, one could find either the staircases that led to the upper floors-where the fencing studio, courtesans, and private rooms were located-or to the lower floors, where the pugilist rings were kept. To the left was the kitchen. To the right were the offices of Lucien Remington.

Hugh took one last, wistful look at the gaming rooms and then turned to his right. He walked through the huge wooden door, with its oval glass center, and handed his card to the secretary, expecting to wait. He was surprised when he was announced without delay.

Nervous trepidation plagued him as he entered the sanctum of Lucien Remington. He'd never been in the offices before, and he took in his surroundings with a curious eye. The first thing he noticed was the carved mahogany desk, which directly faced the door. The massive piece of furniture was flanked on either side by floor-to-ceiling windows, and the desktop was littered with paperwork, silent confirmation of the strength and breadth of Remington's empire.

The room was done in masculine shades of deep green, cream, and gold. An immense fireplace to the left was the focal point of a conversation area holding a settee and two leather wingback chairs. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases took up all the available wall space. To the right, sunlit windows afforded views of the street below.

"Good afternoon, Lord Montrose. I trust your trip to the country was pleasant."

Hugh turned toward the deep voice and saw Remington standing behind his desk, his famous blue eyes lit with amusement as he waved a hand toward one of the chairs that faced him.

"How did you know where I was?" Hugh asked crossly as he took a seat.

"You owe me one hundred thousand quid, my lord. I'm not likely to misplace you."

Hugh scowled. "A drop in the bucket for you, Remington."

"True. Now, I assume you've come to repay me?"

Shifting uncomfortably, Hugh said, "I was hoping to make payment arrangements with you."

A black brow lifted. "I see. What do you propose?"

"At the end of the Season, I can repay half of what I owe, and then-"

Remington raised a hand. "I won't accept Fontaine's money. You owe me. You will pay me."

"Damnation!" Hugh flushed with anger and embarrassment. "Money is money, damn it. Why do you care where it comes from?"

"The point is, I do care."

"If you expect me to pay you out of my own pockets, it will take years."

"I'm not inclined to wait any longer. Either pay me the money, or listen to my alternate proposal."

Hugh stiffened warily. "What alternate proposal?"

Remington leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "I wish to see your sister socially. You will smooth the way for me. For every outing, every dance, every private moment with her, I will reduce your debt by ten thousand pounds."

Hugh's mouth fell open. "Bloody hell. This is extortion!"

Remington said nothing.

"Lady Julienne is close to announcing her betrothal to the Marquess of Fontaine," Hugh pointed out. "Your request could seriously jeopardize his interest in her."

Remington remained silent.

"She's a debutante, Remington, not one of your trollops. I won't whore her out for my debts."

Remington's brows rose, and Hugh colored with embarrassment at the silent challenge that said he was doing exactly that.

"Fontaine offers marriage," he argued.

"So do I."

Hugh choked. "The devil, you say! This grows more outrageous by the moment. Julienne can't marry you! She's an earl's daughter, for Christ's sake."

"And I am a duke's son."

"Well, yes, but you're… well… you're… Damnation, you know what the hell you are! It's not the same thing at all."

Remington shrugged, not the least bit perturbed. "Marriage is out, so we return to my offer. You may begin this evening. I want one dance with Lady Julienne. Afterward you can deduct ten thousand pounds from your debt to me."

Hugh ran both hands through his hair before massaging his temples. "She's marrying someone else, Remington. Why not find some other chit?"

"My motives are my own." Remington rested his elbows on his desk. "I'm a very busy man, Montrose. Tell me your decision now-the money or ten moments with your sister. What shall it be?"

"This is appalling."

"Indeed?"

"You've gone mad."

"Quite possibly."

Hugh was dumbstruck, and damned himself for landing Julienne in this predicament. She was correct. It was time to get his affairs in order. "What if she refuses?"

"Then I will allow her to do so. But she must refuse me each time."

"Hell's teeth, this is abominable. You, sir, are no gentleman."

Remington smiled. "I have never claimed to be one."

"I have stipulations."

Remington nodded. "I expected you would."

"Outings must be chaperoned."

"Of course."

"If I acquire any portion of the money on my own, I can buy you out."

"Agreed."

"And"-Hugh flushed-"she's untouched. Don't think to ruin her to force my hand, or I will call you out. In case you hadn't heard, I'm an excellent shot. You would not survive the encounter."

"I accept your terms." Remington's confident expression never wavered. "I will claim the last set of the evening with Lady Julienne at the Dempsey Ball tonight. Don't say anything to her. I will approach her myself and afford her the opportunity to refuse."

"Fine." Hugh rose and took another look around the elegantly appointed office. "I shall never wager another shilling in my life."

"Good idea," returned Remington as he picked up his quill. "I don't like to wager myself."

Hugh gaped in astonishment and then started toward the door, muttering to himself. "Doesn't like to wager. Ridiculous. Man owns the largest gambling establishment in town."

Lucien grinned triumphantly as the door closed behind Montrose. "And I just made the biggest gamble of my life."

Julienne surveyed the glittering ballroom with bleary eyes. Hugh's trips to his various creditors that afternoon had been successful. He assured her of the ready cooperation of all, including Lucien Remington, and seemed truly determined to take his responsibilities more seriously.

Having accomplished that, Julienne could have spent the evening at home and considered the day well spent. But Hugh had insisted she attend the Dempsey Ball. Now it was the early hours of the following morning, she was exhausted, her mind tortured by thoughts of Lucien, and her brother insisted they remain until the end. Julienne tried desperately to stifle a yawn.

"Hugh," she muttered, "I'm retiring to the ladies' room for a nap. You send for me when you're ready to depart."

He scowled. "You promised the last set to me."

"Well, then, send for me just before. If I stand here another moment, I shall embarrass myself by falling asleep on my feet."

"Fine," he grumbled. "Go."

Julienne moved away before he could change his mind. Reaching the hallway, she hid a yawn behind her gloved hand.

She screeched as she was yanked without warning into an alcove. Lucien slid the curtain closed behind her.

"What are you doing?" she cried, even as her heart leapt at his proximity. Stunningly handsome, he was impeccably attired in evening black. She hadn't seen him all evening, and she hated to contemplate where he might have been. "Adding to my collection of bruises?" she snapped.

He had the grace to wince. "Julienne." His voice was low and tinged with regret. "Please forgive me for last night. I was foxed. I should never have touched you the way I did."

She lifted her chin and reached for the curtain. "You are correct about that. Now if you will excuse me."

He gripped her elbow. "Julienne, please. Don't go yet."

"Why not? I think we've said all that needs to be said."

Lucien pulled off his gloves and shoved them into his pockets. The longing on his face arrested her. As his palm cupped her cheek, Julienne closed her eyes and breathed in the familiar scent of his skin.

"I've missed you," he whispered. "Every moment I'm not with you, I miss you."

"Lucien, don't…"

"Yes, Julienne. Look at me."

Reluctantly she lifted her lids and met his gaze, the austereness of his features stealing her breath.

"I'm so very sorry, sweet. I never wanted to hurt you."

Julienne fought the tears that threatened. "Allow me to explain something to you, Lucien. Something men of your sort don't seem to comprehend. Women are feeling creatures, at least they are until they've been hurt enough to no longer care. We reserve parts of our soul for the men who are important in our lives, places where trust and respect reside. Once those feelings are lost, you cannot reclaim them. Once they are dead, they cannot be revived." She shoved his hand away from her face. "I've heard your apology, and yet it means nothing to me. You want me to make you feel better, to tell you I understand and forgive you, but I don't understand." She turned to leave.

"I didn't touch her," he said quickly in a voice so hoarse she barely recognized it. "Since that day I came to your home, I haven't been with another woman. I've been faithful to you."

Julienne turned, searching his face, and found him in deadly earnest. "Why?" she asked simply.

"You are the only woman I want." Lucien cupped her face with both hands. "When you rejected my proposal, I lost my head. I'm not accustomed to being denied something I want so desperately. I am so very sorry, Julienne. You don't have to forgive me. All I ask is that you believe my sincerity."

His mouth lowered slowly, giving her the opportunity to pull away. With heartrending tenderness, he kissed away the tears she hadn't known were falling. Julienne turned her head to capture his lips, and she was lost. Lost in his scent, his touch. Lost in him.

"I believe you," she whispered.

Lucien's mouth brushed along her jaw and down her throat. "Why are you wearing this high-necked dress?" he murmured.

"To hide the bruises."

He froze, his body turning hard as stone. His hands left her face and reached for the buttons on the back of her gown, his impatient fingers working with obvious familiarity of a woman's clothing.

"Lucien, no," she protested, agonizingly aware of the thinness of the curtain that separated them from the prying eyes of the ton. "Not here. Not now."

He dipped his head, hushing her with a kiss. Soon her gown gaped in the back, and he pushed it to the floor. He growled, his fingers brushing over their own prints left in the tender skin of her breasts. "Jesus," he breathed.

Pulling her to him, he kissed her throat. His mouth wandered downward, kissing every mark he'd left on her. The touch of his lips was gentle, reverent. He whispered anguished apologies against her skin, and as he dropped to his knees in front of her, she could feel the wetness of his tears soak through her chemise.

The depth of his remorse, his openness of feeling, his willingness to show her his vulnerability, stunned her. This was a side of Lucien she had never seen. Julienne wondered if anyone had ever seen it.

As he pushed up her chemise, his hot breath ruffled the curls of her sex. She shivered, her blood heating, her heart racing. Lucien groaned and buried his mouth between her legs. Slipping a hand behind her knee, he lifted her leg free of her gown and pulled it over his shoulder, opening her to his ravishment.

Gentle fingers parted her, and Julienne sagged against the wall as his tongue delved deeper inside, licking her as if he savored the taste of her. She stared down, watching him, and her heart clenched in her chest. She could never have imagined the sight of the powerful Lucien Remington on his knees before her, his gorgeous eyes bright with grief and other more frightening emotions. With long, slow, sinuous laps he cherished her. He loved her leisurely, as if they had all the time in the world, as if they were alone and not mere steps away from ruination.

Melancholy welled up inside her. "Lucien," she whispered as his tongue thrust into her. "My darling."

Her fingers slipped through his hair and wrapped around his scalp. His tongue probed deep, and she bit her lip to hold back her cries. The coiling tension wound tighter, and her hips thrust forward, seeking to deepen the contact. She rode his mouth, undulating against him, her lips parted as she fought to breathe. He latched onto her and suckled with expert, gentle force, knowing just what she needed.

Her back arched, her breath seized, her fingers tugged at his hair as she came against his mouth. Her orgasm rolled through her, over her, releasing the relentless tension that had gripped her for over a week. A week in which she'd fallen in love and then had her heart broken.

He soothed her tremors with soft laps, gentling her before rising to his feet.

Boneless, Julienne stood unmoving as Lucien dressed her. He drew her against his chest as he buttoned the back of her gown. When he was done, he rocked her gently in his arms. Never in her life had Julienne felt more cherished.

"It's the last set," he whispered.

"I must go," she sighed. "Montrose will be looking for me."

Lucien nuzzled her throat. "This set is reserved for me."

"Be serious," she murmured, kissing the sharp line of his jaw. "You cannot continue to ravish me in public venues. We'll-"

"I am serious. Montrose is aware of my intentions and has promised to offer no objection. Say yes, Julienne." He kissed the tip of her nose. "I'm an excellent dancer."

"You're also a conceited rogue."

"Ah." His smile stunned her wits. "But you wouldn't wish me to be any other way. Now, go out to the ballroom and wait for me."

Tossing a skeptical glance over her shoulder, Julienne exited the alcove and moved down the hallway to the ballroom. Within moments, Lucien was bowing over her hand. She glanced at Hugh, who scowled.

"Do you wish to dance with him?" he asked, giving her the choice.

"Yes," she breathed, waiting for his refusal and astonished when he offered a curt nod to Lucien.

"How did you do it?" she asked as Lucien led her to the line of dancers with a sure hand and a confident step. His powerful body moved gracefully, and she found herself eagerly anticipating the upcoming cotillion.

"Never mind," he said, grinning. "I believe I'm in heaven. Your taste flavors my mouth, and your scent clings to my nostrils." He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and sighed.

Julienne blushed. "You say the most wicked things, Lucien."

He raised a mocking brow. "You do the most wicked things, my love. Underneath that prim-and-proper exterior is a wanton dying to be satisfied. And I am just the repentant rake to doit."

"Repentant?" She arched a brow.

"Definitely."

She glanced around furtively before whispering, "Do you really think so?"

"Think what?" he asked. "That I'm the man to satisfy you?" His mouth curved with devilish amusement. "Do you doubt it? I think I've proven myself rather well, considering I haven't been able to use all of my endowments." His grin widened. "You do remember what I told you about challenging a man's virility?"

"No, not that." Her blush deepened. "I meant the part about my being a wanton."

He laughed. "You liked that, did you?"

She blushed. "It's a relief to know you find me…"

"Passionate? Desirable? Interesting? Beautiful?"

Julienne laughed, heedless of the scandalized eyes that watched them cross the dance floor. "You make me feel like I am all of those things. I thank you for that."

"And you make me happy. So it is I who must thank you."

Her eyes dropped shyly.

"Julienne."

She glanced at him.

"I would like to take you on a picnic tomorrow."

"Montrose would never-"

"Leave him to me."

Julienne narrowed her eyes. "Even if that were true, I've already agreed to accompany Lord Fontaine to a literary luncheon tomorrow."

Lucien's lips tightened grimly. "The day after, then."

She nodded. "If you can arrange to garner my brother's approval, I would love to go on a picnic with you, Lucien."

She knew what he wanted. He wished to say good-bye, and she was touched he wanted to make it a memorable event. He cared for her, perhaps more than he knew, but he would never change, and she would never ask him to. Eventually he would resent her for the marital restrictions imposed on his lifestyle. No matter how much he desired her, desire alone would never be enough to bridge the gulf between them.

However, she refused to think about that now.

Instead she threw herself into the dance and allowed Lucien Remington, notorious libertine, to sweep her away. For this moment at least, she could pretend all of her dreams had come true.

Chapter Ten

He was very handsome.

Julienne acknowledged that fact for the hundredth time as she studied Lord Fontaine furtively beneath her lashes. And quite charming. She glanced around the long table where they sat in Lady Busby's London residence. Most of the other women in the room were eyeing him covetously. But Julienne could dredge up no pleasure in the day. All she desired was to be enjoying a picnic with Lucien.

"Is the food not to your taste, Lady Julienne?" Fontaine asked solicitously.

She smiled. "Everything is wonderful. I'm just not very hungry." She glanced at his plate.

"Liar," he teased. "You want a bite of my scone." He broke off a piece with his long, elegant fingers, swiped some softened butter on it with a knife, and brought it to her mouth. She parted her lips automatically, and he popped the morsel inside.

She blushed, knowing everyone at the table had duly noted the intimate gesture. "I sense a scandalous side to you, my lord."

He grinned. "Does that disturb you?"

"You know it doesn't, or you wouldn't indulge me with it."

"'Tis one of the reasons why I like you so well, Julienne." He took a deep breath. "There is something I wish to discuss with you, but now is not the appropriate time. Perhaps tomorrow I could take you for a drive in the park?"

Julienne knew exactly what he wished to discuss with her, and she knew what her answer would be. But first she had one more opportunity to spend time with Lucien. "I'm afraid I must decline. I have plans tomorrow." She saw the troubled frown and sought to allay his concern. "But the following day would be lovely."

He nodded. "Of course. I look forward to it."

Hours later, Julienne returned to Montrose Hall, determined to spend the evening at home so she would be fresh and alert for her picnic with Lucien. She had so much to say to him, so many things she wanted him to know, before they said good-bye.

She ordered tea brought to her in the family parlor and made her way upstairs with the afternoon's post. Julienne sorted through the pile halfheartedly, until she came to a missive that caught her eye.

Delicate pink parchment, scented of roses and bearing a rose seal, stood out from the others. Julienne opened it curiously.

"Good grief," she breathed when she realized who the sender was. And then she tucked into the letter with gusto.

She'd jilted him!

Lucien stomped back down the steps of Montrose Hall in a fine temper. He still couldn't believe it. He'd never been jilted in his life. "Something came up," Julienne had written in her far-too-brief apology. If that "something" turned out to be Fontaine, there would be the devil to pay.

Returning to his phaeton, Lucien cursed at the sight of the massive picnic basket strapped to the back. He'd never in his life been on a picnic. His staff had been forced to run out and buy the things necessary to put one together, including the basket itself. Even with his foul mood, he wasn't about to allow the fine feast Remington's chef had put together go to waste.

He'd visit his mother and take her out for the afternoon. She would enjoy the surprise.

It wasn't long before Lucien was climbing the steps of his mother's townhouse. Heading toward the pink parlor, he scowled when he heard his mother's laughter inside. Damnation, she had guests. Perhaps she wouldn't be available for a picnic either. The thought made his mood even more disagreeable. He opened the door and then stood frozen on the threshold.

"What the devil are you doing in my mother's house?" he barked.

Three heads-his mother's, the duke's, and Julienne's-swung toward him in surprise.

He was somewhat pacified by Julienne's radiant smile. "I was invited, of course," she replied.

His Grace stood. "Afternoon, son. Wasn't expecting to see you until this evening at your club, but I'm pleased all the same."

"I'm not," grumbled Amanda. "Run along now, Lucien, and allow me to speak to Lady Julienne."

Lucien crossed his arms and glowered. "If I leave, Julienne is coming with me. Today was my day with her, promised to me for a picnic."

"You whine like a petulant child," his mother scolded as she attempted to shoo him out of the room.

"You have no notion of the trouble that went into preparing that damn picnic," he argued. "And now it's sitting outside, on the back of my phaeton, getting cold." He held out his hand. "Come along, Julienne."

Amanda glared at her son. "She's not going anywhere. She came to see me, and she's been here only a few minutes."

"She has no business being here. We had plans."

Julienne rose from the settee with her customary grace, and Lucien's eyes became riveted to her. The epitome of the tow's esteemed social perfection, she was nevertheless completely at home in his mother's parlor, and he adored her for that. Dressed in a scarlet riding habit, she was stunning, with her glorious hair piled atop her head and her lush lips curved in a placating smile. As she stepped closer, her scent enveloped him, and his entire body hardened, as it always did around her.

She reached out a hand and stroked his tense upper arm. "I'm sorry I ruined your plans for the day. Perhaps we can still go and take your parents with us."

At the slight touch of her hand, he lost his control and gripped her elbows, pulling her closer. He bent over her, lowering his voice so he wouldn't be overheard. "I wanted you all to myself. I looked forward to it."

She laughed. "My maid is here. She would have come on the picnic, too."

"I might have been able to tolerate her," he muttered. "But my mother will hang on every word."

"What could you possibly have to say that would shock your parents?"

His mouth dropped to her ear. "How about how ravishing you look in that riding habit? I want to ravish you right out of it. I'm sporting an impressive cockstand, Julienne, just from looking at you. I want to take you somewhere, lift up your skirts, and lick you until you scream. I want to put my fingers inside you and-"

"G-good h-heavens," she sputtered, fanning her face with her hands. "Incorrigible rogue."

Julienne stared at Lucien Remington and saw the wicked glint in his eyes. She narrowed her own.

Two could play his game.

Her mouth curved in a seductive smile, and she ran her tongue along her bottom lip. "And while your hands are under my skirts, my wicked Lucien, I would have my hands down your trousers stroking that magnificent cock. You would be so enamored with the feel of my hands, you would lie back and allow me to have my way with you. I could take you into my mouth and suck you. Hard, the way you love it. My-"

"Damnation!" Lucien backed away from her as if she had burned him, the crest of his cheekbones flushed with desire.

Julienne grinned and turned to face his parents. "Would you care to join us for a picnic, Madam Remington? Your Grace?"

Amanda smiled. "My goodness, the heat that comes off you two could start a blaze."

She flushed. Lucien was right. She was becoming a wanton.

"Don't be embarrassed, dear," Amanda said with a grin. "I'm aware Lucien proposed to you. He wouldn't have done so if you were indifferent to one another."

"Marriage?" barked the duke. "Does no one tell me anything?"

"She refused him," Amanda explained.

"I should think so," Magnus grumbled. "Fontaine is an excellent catch."

Julienne blinked. "Lucien is a wonderful catch as well. Any woman would be lucky to have him."

"Then why won't you?" the duke challenged.

"Yes, Julienne," purred Lucien behind her. She spun to face him and found him leaning against the door jamb, with his arms crossed. "Why won't you?"

"You know very well why!"

"I don't," Amanda said. "Tell me."

Julienne lifted her chin. "He wants me for all the wrong reasons, and when he tires of me, he intends to dally as he pleases."

"Hell and damnation, son." His Grace roared with laughter. "Never tell a woman that before the vows are spoken."

"Glass!" Amanda cried, placing her hands on her hips. "I'm ashamed of both of you."

"She'd allow Fontaine to chase skirts," Lucien said defensively, "but not me. It's not fair."

"That's different," returned Amanda and Julienne in unison.

"Indeed?" Lucien said with a quirk of his brow.

"Indeed?" joined the duke as he walked over to his son. "Explain yourselves." The two almost identical men faced their women with identical arched brows.

Amanda rolled her eyes. "Men are so dense." She pierced Magnus with a steely stare. "Would I allow you to dally, Glass?"

His face colored. "Hell, Amanda. You'd probably unman me."

"And why is that?" she asked.

Julienne saw where the conversation was headed and rounded the settee. "This is entirely unnecessary. We were discussing a picnic and-"

"Hush, Julienne," Lucien ordered. "I intend to hear this."

"Because you love me, of course," the Duke of Glasser said, with a proud tilt to his chin. "And you're damned possessive."

"There you have it!" Amanda gave a triumphant nod. "And you wouldn't take another woman regardless, because you love me in return."

Lucien stood immobile by the parlor doors. "Are you saying, Mother, that Julienne won't marry me because she loves me?"

Amanda shook her head. "What I'm saying is, Lady Julienne won't marry you because you don't love her. Or if you do, you won't admit it."

"And you believe Fontaine loves her?" he choked out.

"Lucien, it's not Fontaine's feelings that matter." His mother rolled her eyes. "You may be a genius with money, but when it comes to women, you're positively dense."

Julienne had quite enough of this conversation. "Thank you very much for your hospitality, Madam Remington, but I'm afraid I must depart now."

"Like hell." Lucien blocked the doorway. "You promised me a picnic, and we're damn well having one."

"I'm not dressed to go out," Amanda complained.

"Then we'll have it here." He craned his neck into the hallway and yelled for the butler. When the servant appeared, Lucien sent the man to retrieve the basket. Then he looked at Julienne again.

"I'm not feeling well," she said hoarsely.

Lucien approached her with a soft smile. "Lovesick?"

Her stricken gaze met his. "To hell with you, you conceited man."

"I'm already there, sweet. I've been there since I met you."

"If I'm such a source of misery for you, why do you seek me out?"

"You are not the source, my love. My own foolishness is."

Her throat tight, Julienne whispered, "Cease calling me that. We both know it's not true."

With gentle fingers, he tucked a stray curl behind her ear, then cupped her cheek. He brushed away an errant tear with his thumb. Lowering his head, he pressed his lips gently to hers, paying no heed to his parents behind him.

"Lucien, your parents…" she whispered, her face flaming with embarrassment.

"Don't mind us," Amanda called out. "Just pretend we're not here."

Julienne's mouth twitched. She rather liked Lucien's parents. "What do you want from me, Lucien?"

"A chance," he said softly. "Keep Fontaine at bay until the end of the Season."

She frowned. "Why?"

"Do you love me, Julienne?"

"Lucien…" she breathed, dismayed that he'd asked her so bluntly. "You ask for too much."

"I ask for time to win you." His velvety voice curled around her, low and seductive in its promise. "If marriage to me is something you'd never consider, then say so, and I won't pursue you any further. But if the possibility exists that you would consent to be mine, I want you to give me that chance."

She pulled back and searched his face. "You're serious."

"I am," he agreed, with a tender smile. "Would you marry me if I could change?"

"I don't know. I'm not certain we could be happy together. Not for the duration of our lives."

"And you believe Fontaine can make you happy? How could he, when you are in love with me?"

Julienne shrugged as tears gathered in her eyes. "I didn't choose to feel this way about you, Lucien. This situation would be so much easier if I didn't care."

"Don't cry," he said gruffly, tugging her closer. "I realize I'm asking for too much. You would have to relinquish the life you know and begin anew with me, a social pariah. But I'm obscenely wealthy and the handsomest man in all of England-"

"Good grief! You remember that?" She blushed.

"How could I forget?" Lucien rubbed her bottom lip with his thumb. "How about a lifetime in my bed? I can promise to love your body to distraction at every possible opportunity. I can give you the kind of happiness you never knew existed. I can buy you things you never thought to have. I can make your life so pleasant that perhaps the condemning opinion of others will hurt you less."

And Julienne knew if Lucien Remington set his mind to making her happy, he would do everything possible to ensure that she was. "It certainly sounds appealing," she agreed breathlessly, her heart warming at the picture he presented. A lifetime with him. It wouldn't be easy, but perhaps it could be worth it. If he loved her.

"The picnic is ready," Amanda said cheerfully.

They turned to find the furniture moved aside to create a large space in the center of the room. In the middle lay the picnic blanket and all of the food.

The next couple of hours were some of the most enjoyable Lucien could ever remember spending. His father and mother told bawdy stories from some of their infamous parties, and Julienne was obviously both scandalized and fascinated by the tales. The food was wonderful, as he'd known it would be, and the company delightful, surrounded as he was by the people who meant the most to him.

He was extremely disappointed when it came time for Julienne to bid farewell. Lucien escorted her to her mount and watched her until she rode out of sight, accompanied by her maid and two of his mother's groomsmen.

When he reentered the parlor, he saw his parents, arms around each other, looking out the window. Amanda turned her head to look at him. "We really like her, Lucien."

He smiled. "Everyone does."

She walked over to her escritoire and returned with a letter. "Look at her acceptance of my invitation to tea. So gracious and sweet. The king could not have received a more respectful response."

Lucien glanced down at the missive and nodded. "She has a way of making people feel worthy."

"She adores you. She's too innocent to hide it."

His grin widened. "She's looked at me in that fashion since the moment I laid eyes on her." He ran a hand through his hair. "And I've been a complete idiot where she's concerned from the very beginning. I've said and done things I deeply regret."

"You're in love, son," commiserated Magnus. "It makes fools of all men."

You're in love.

"I'm not-" Lucien began, and then he fell silent, frowning.

His father arched a brow. His mother smiled.

Damn it, was he in love? A man would know if such a thing happened to him, wouldn't he?

But… perhaps… Perhaps what he felt wasn't lust at all. Though that had to be part of it, or maybe it was because of it. Who could tell? He certainly couldn't-he'd never been in love before.

Still, love would explain his odd behavior-his strange and unaccountable anger, his jealousy, and his inability to be aroused by any other woman. Love could be the reason why he thought of her all the time, why he missed her unbearably, why he dreamed of her every night.

He loved Lady Julienne La Coeur.

Lucien's hand gripped the back of a nearby chair for support.

"Goodness, Glass," his mother scolded as she took in his condition. "You have no tact. You don't just thrust a revelation like that on someone. Can't you see Lucien's in shock?"

"How in hell can a man not know when he's in love?" Magnus complained.

Amanda shook her head.

Lucien laughed, an odd, slightly wondering chuckle. "I do love her," he breathed. "All these weeks of torture, and we could have been together."

"Why don't you simply tell her how you feel?" Amanda asked.

"I will." He firmed his resolve. "And I'll prove it to her."

"You don't have a lot of time," Magnus pointed out. "Fontaine is champing at the bit."

Lucien grit his teeth. "I know. But Julienne promised me she would keep him waiting until the end of the Season."

"That's only a few weeks away," his mother reminded. "You mustn't lose her, Lucien. You'll regret it forever."

"Don't worry, Mother." He hadn't achieved his success through good fortune. He'd worked hard for it, and he would work hard for Julienne. "I won't."

Chapter Eleven

"You must be bored stiff."

Julienne looked up from her book and hid a smile. Curled up in a settee in Lucien's office, she watched him surreptitiously while he worked. "What gave you that impression?" she asked.

He was in the middle of purchasing a mill, which would be the cornerstone of several new ventures, and the acquisition was taking up all of his time. She hadn't seen him in two days and finally decided to simply show up unannounced at Remington's. By bringing her abigail with her, she'd deflected any suspicion on Aunt Eugenia and Hugh's parts, and she'd snuck in through the kitchens to avoid being seen. Lucien came for her immediately, dispatching her maid for a tour of the establishment before taking Julienne to his office. She had insisted he work, apologizing profusely for disturbing him, despite his assurances that her interruption was welcome.

"You're too quiet," he said. "And I'm certain you didn't come here to watch me work."

Lucien had removed his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves. Something about his casualness and absorption in his task made her hot. The sight of his bare forearms and strong hands made her ache. The way he muttered over contracts filled her with contentment. After years of watching Hugh struggle with money, she admired Lucien's easy handling of it.

A "domesticated pirate" is what Fontaine had called him. Julienne agreed and found it thrilling.

"I quite enjoy watching you work," she murmured.

"Is that so?" Lucien grinned and set aside his quill. "I quite enjoy having you here. I wasn't certain I could accomplish much with you so close at hand, but actually I find your presence quite stimulating."

"That's because you're a scoundrel."

Leaning back in his chair, he asked, "How are things progressing with Fontaine?"

Julienne shrugged. "Yesterday he took me to the Royal Academy of Art. He wishes to ask Montrose permission to pay his addresses and asked if I was open to his interest."

Lucien stiffened. Not yet. "What did you say, my love?"

She picked restlessly at her skirt. "I asked him if he loved me."

Lucien swallowed hard. "And how did he reply?"

"He believes he can grow to love me, given the time."

"Did you tell him you would accept his suit?"

Julienne met his gaze with a reproving frown. "You know I would not be here with you if I had. I asked him to wait until the end of the Season, as you and I discussed."

"He must have been curious as to your reasons."

"Of course. I told him there was the possibility that someone I cared for could grow to love me as well, and I wanted to allow the other man sufficient opportunity to do so."

"Bloody hell," Lucien muttered, with a rueful laugh. "I've always loved your honesty, but for Christ's sake, did you have to be so blunt with him? No man wants to hear he's running in second place." He grinned suddenly. "But finding out he's first is very pleasant."

"I told him he shouldn't settle for anything less than love either. He admired my honesty and agreed to respect my wishes." She bit her bottom lip. "He did say he would put up a fight."

Lucien was tempted to reveal his feelings, but feared Julienne would think he was only trying to outmaneuver Fontaine. So instead he rose from his desk and locked the door. He moved to sit beside her and took her hands in his. "Sweetheart, any man would fight for you. I intend to fight for you."

She gave him an arch look. "It's extremely disheartening to know that the two men who wish to marry me find falling in love with me such a chore."

"Sometimes it takes a man a while to realize he's found what he didn't even know he was looking for."

"Ha," she scoffed. "Pretty it up all you like. It will not change the cold, hard facts."

Lucien pulled her hand to his throbbing erection. "It's definitely hard, love." He grinned. "But it's not cold."

Julienne's eyes widened just before she laughed with delight. "Lucien Remington, you are without a doubt the most lascivious man I have ever met."

He pressed his lips to her throat. "That's partly your fault. You tempt me constantly, and it's been a while since I last found any relief."

"Shall I relieve you, darling?" she asked in a breathless whisper. "I would love to." She gave his cock a firm squeeze.

"Jesus." Lucien buried his face in her neck with a tortured groan. "You are perfect for me. Surely you see that."

"I'm not the one you have to convince." She placed her hands against his chest and pressed him backward, crawling over him with a playful glint in her dark eyes. "But allow me to give you some added things to consider."

"Such as?"

"Such as how the sight of you at your desk makes my heart race."

He arched a brow.

"And the way you look with your shirtsleeves rolled up." She licked her bottom lip. "Why, it inspires positively carnal feelings in me."

"Carnal feelings?" His eyes widened, even as his cock swelled further. Lord above, how he loved this woman.

"Yes." Cool fingertips brushed his hair back from his face. "And your hair. I just love it. It's thick and soft like spun silk."

Just as she stretched her body along his, someone tried the knob and then knocked on the door. "Mr. Remington?"

"Go away!" he growled, "if you'd like to remain employed." Lucien raised his head to capture Julienne's lips, slipping his tongue between them to taste her sweetness.

There was a weighted pause. "Yes, sir, but Lord Fontaine respectfully requests a moment of your time."

Julienne slid off of him in an instant. Lucien glanced at the door and saw the dark outline of his secretary through the oval-shaped watered glass.

"Good heavens! What does he want?" She glanced down at him. "And what horrid timing."

"Fontaine is a damned nuisance," he complained.

"Hush, or he'll hear you." She bent over and picked up her book. Before she could turn away, he grabbed her wrist and drew her to him, kissing her with deep possessiveness.

"Umm… Mr. Remington… sir?" inquired the secretary hesitantly.

"Give me one damned bloody minute!" he yelled.

"Of course, sir," came the obviously shaken voice.

"What a horrid temper you have, Lucien Remington," Julienne teased as she opened the hidden panel in the wall. She stopped before she made her way upstairs. "You know, one of these days I would like to see your home. Your taste is excellent, I would wager it's one of the finest in London."

Lucien ran a hand through his hair to restore some order to the disheveled locks. "Marry me, and my home will be yours." He gestured around him. "Everything I have can be yours."

"It's your heart I want." She blew him a kiss before she shut the panel behind her.

Taking a deep breath, Lucien unlocked the door and returned to his desk. The flushed secretary came in bearing Fontaine's card, and a moment later returned with Lord Fontaine.

As the marquess entered, Lucien reluctantly admitted that the peer was a formidable opponent for Julienne's hand. Fontaine radiated aristocratic privilege from every pore. Tall, with the light-footed grace of a predatory cat, he had an austere, golden beauty. Dressed in light taupe trousers, with matching striped silk waistcoat and brown jacket, he was an impressive sight.

Fontaine settled into a chair and glanced around Lucien's office. "Impressive, Mr. Remington."

"What can I do for you, my lord? I was"-he paused a moment in delicious remembrance-"wrapped up in something important."

"So I gathered," the marquess drawled, with caustic amusement. "I shall get to the point straight away."

"I wish you would."

Fontaine crossed his ankle over his knee, settling into the chair with casual arrogance. "I'm here to pay Lord Montrose's debt to your club."

Lucien kept his face impassive as he rose and went to the sideboard. "Care for a brandy?"

"Thank you," Fontaine said. "I would."

Lucien poured two rations. "Did Montrose send you?"

Fontaine took the offered snifter before answering. "No, but I will have to settle the debt eventually. I would rather see to it now."

Lucien resumed his seat and spun his snifter slowly between his hands. "It is not your responsibility."

"You've never quibbled before, Remington. I have it on good authority that you will take a payment on a debt from anyone." Fontaine's voice turned derisive. "Just so long as you get paid."

Lucien tilted his head slightly in acknowledgment. He wasn't a fool. Money was money, and he never turned it down, especially when it was his own being returned to him. "This situation is different. I've already made arrangements with Montrose. Your assistance is not required, nor is it welcome."

Fontaine's eyes narrowed. "Why are you so eager to hold his debt?"

"Why are you so eager to pay it?"

"I'm marrying his sister, Lady Julienne. I want Montrose's finances to be in order so Julienne feels free to marry without worrying about her brother's affairs."

"Ah," Lucien murmured, with a tight smile. "Shall we be honest? You hope to marry Lady Julienne, and you wish to pay off Montrose's debt so she feels obligated to marry you."

Fontaine stiffened the instant before he downed his brandy in one swallow. He set his empty glass on the edge of Lucien's desk. "You are the other gentleman she referred to, are you not?"

"I am."

"Are you attempting to buy a highborn bride with a gentleman's debt?"

"I'm not buying anything. I have no hold on Julienne other than her affection for me."

The marquess snorted. "If you had any care for her at all, you would want her to marry someone of her station. Her feelings for you will ruin her life, and you know it."

"Spare me your aristocratic entitlement," Lucien bit out. "I can give her everything you can except for your blasted title. I can assure you, my love for her will more than make up for that."

Fontaine's crossed ankle began to flex rhythmically in agitation. "Well, well. I have always acknowledged your excellent taste, Remington. I see it extends to all areas of your life. But you fail to see that with my title come privileges like social acceptance and respect. Doors will slam shut in her face if she weds you. Will your love be enough to soothe her pride when that happens?"

"Will your title soothe her loneliness when you're warming another woman's bed?" he retorted.

Fontaine flushed.

The two men eyed each other carefully before Fontaine spoke. "I'll make taking her away from me as difficult as possible, Remington."

"I would expect nothing less. But don't forget, Lady Julienne is a very intelligent woman. She will decide what is best for her without any help from either of us." Lucien gestured toward the door. "I think we're done here."

Fontaine stood. "She deserves to be a marchioness, with all the power that comes with that station."

"She deserves to be loved. Good day, my lord."

"Good day, Remington."

Lucien released a deep breath as soon as the door closed behind his nemesis. His entire body was taut with the primitive instinct to protect what was his. Julienne was his. She loved him. And at this very moment, she waited for him upstairs. He wanted to go to her and claim her in the most basic way possible. To brand her as his so that no other man could ever have her.

With a sudden ferocious movement, Lucien pushed away from his desk and strode to the door. "I'll be unavailable for the rest of the day," he informed his secretary, then he closed the portal and took the hidden hallway to his suite of rooms upstairs.

As he entered the Sapphire Room, most of his tension fled. Julienne was there, in his element. A small fire lit the chamber. Although it wasn't cold, it added a cheery atmosphere and bathed her in a soft glow. He wanted this welcoming scene greeting him every day for the rest of his life. He wanted to take her to his home, to make love to her in his bed, to wake up with the scent of her on his skin and her hair spread across his chest. His very soul ached for her.

"The colors of this room suit you," she said softly, her gaze soft and adoring, just as it always was when she looked at him. "Your beautiful eyes glow."

His mouth curved in a warm smile. "That's because I'm looking at you."

Her answering smile was fleeting. "What did Lord Fontaine want?"

"He wanted to pay off your brother's debt. When I refused his money, he guessed my involvement with you."

Julienne took a deep breath. "I see."

"Don't worry. He still wants you."

"I'm not worried," she denied, and then she dropped her head. "Well, perhaps that's not entirely true. He's been kind. I think, had I not met you first, I would have been content to spend my life at his side. It's not his fault my affections are engaged elsewhere."

Lucien leaned against the door jamb and crossed his arms. "I want to pay off all of your brother's markers. No strings attached."

"Beg your pardon?"

"I want you to decide between Fontaine and me with your heart, not with your brother's welfare in mind. I'll have my solicitor draw up documents stating all the debts are paid, regardless of which one of us you wed." His voice lowered and throbbed with emotion. "I would give up everything I have, Julienne, to give you a choice."

"No." Julienne rose from her chair. "I don't want you to do that. It isn't money that will decide my mind."

Lucien remained by the door with the greatest of effort. "If I told you I loved you, would you believe me?"

"Lucien…"

"Haven't you wondered why your brother has allowed me to see you?"

"Well, yes…"

"Extortion."

Julienne blinked.

"He owes me a great deal of money. I leveraged it against him to get what I want-time with you."

She sank back into the chair.

"I warned you I wasn't honorable, my love. I told you I wasn't a gentleman. I'll do whatever it takes to win you. Anything at all. I have no scruples or morals to hold me back." Lucien watched her closely. "Now, if I told you I love you, would you believe me?"

"I don't know," she breathed. "But I want to." She held out a hand to him, and that was all the encouragement he needed.

He reached her in two strides and pulled her into his arms. Heat swirled around them, as did endless hunger. He would never have enough of her, would always crave her. "I need you, Julienne."

Her fingers entwined in his hair. "I'm here, my love."

"Not just now. Forever." His mouth traveled down her neck. "You are mine. You belong to me. I won't allow Fontaine to have you." He tugged at her bodice, releasing her breasts, then laved her nipples until she clawed at his back.

"Marry me," he urged against her breast.

"Love me," she countered breathlessly.

"Sweetheart," Lucien said, smiling, "I already do."

Chapter Twelve

Lucien watched Hugh La Coeur pace behind his desk in Montrose Hall. Unlike his own spacious and airy office, Montrose's study was paneled in dark walnut, with parquet floors covered in Aubusson rugs. With red drapes so dark in color as to be almost black, the room was oppressive and forbidding, nothing like the jovial, irresponsible man who owned it.

Leaning back a little farther in his chair, Lucien released his breath in a quiet rush. Unfortunately, this meeting was going exactly as he had anticipated.

"You're daft!" Hugh cried. "You cannot marry Julienne. It's just not done, I tell you!"

"I realize that," Lucien replied calmly.

"Then why are you here?"

With endless patience, he repeated his request. "To ask for her hand and discuss the settlements with you. I am prepared to be generous."

Hugh shook his head. "Damnation! You can't purchase a bride."

"For God's sake," Lucien muttered in exasperation. "I am not attempting to buy Julienne."

Montrose leaned over the desk, his palms flat on the surface. "Why my sister? Why not one of the other debutantes out this Season?"

"My lord, you are under the false impression that I merely wish to acquire a wife. One of the benefits of being untitled is that I have no need to wed. I am not required to sire heirs to carry on a family name."

"Then why are you here, damn it?"

Lucien didn't have time for this. "We've already established why I'm here. Now here is the proposed settlement." He tossed the thick legal contract onto the desk. Hugh picked it up and flipped through it, his eyes widening. "You keep Julienne's dowry, but I manage it for you. I will make investments as I deem appropriate for the next six months, after which I will turn the balance over to you. I've opened an account in your sister's name, and I've deposited funds equal to her dowry for her own personal use. She will also receive an allowance, the amount of which is detailed in the agreement."

Hugh found the number and paled. "Good God, this is extraordinary. You must be rich as Croesus."

"You will meet with me in my office every Tuesday and Thursday morning for the next six months. I'm going to teach you about money, Montrose. How to make it, and how to keep it."

"Preposterous," Hugh cried in outrage. "I cannot-"

"Hold your tongue," Lucien ordered, in a tone that brooked no refusal. "Your blasted pride got you into this mess. I'll bail you out this one time, Montrose. I've already paid all of your creditors. But I shall have a wife now and, God willing, children. I won't waste their inheritance on you. You will learn the skills I can teach you." Lucien watched the young earl flush with embarrassment and relented, slightly. "You were only ten when you came into your title. I don't blame you for feeling overwhelmed. But I won't allow your irresponsibility to continue. It's time to grow up."

Hugh dropped into his chair, the hand holding the agreement falling carelessly into his lap. "Why are you doing this?" he asked, his expression dazed.

"I thought that would be obvious. I'm madly in love with Julienne. You must take care of yourself so she can cease worrying about you and concentrate on me."

Montrose sighed. "Have you already paid your addresses to her?"

"I have."

"Does she return your affections?"

Lucien nodded, his heart still light with wonder. "By some undeserved blessing, she does." His voice softened. "I promise to care for her. She'll never want for anything. I'll adore her and cherish her until the end of my days."

"You'll have to. She'll have nothing else. I will love her regardless, but Society…" Hugh took a fortifying breath. "Congratulations are in order then, Remington."

Lucien tilted his head in acknowledgment. Inside he sighed with relief as the Earl of Montrose reached for his quill.

Julienne waited in the master bedroom of Lucien's sumptuous mansion in Mayfair. They had stayed only an hour at the small wedding celebration, both of them eager to return to their own home and spend long-awaited time alone. The carriage ride had been spent sharing loving kisses and plans for their future.

She smiled in remembrance. Who would have guessed the heart inside the rake could be so tender?

And their home… Lord, it was every bit as elegant and opulent as she had expected it to be. She was now mistress of this beautiful residence, and she took great delight in anticipating receiving callers here.

Despite Lucien's misgivings, Julienne was hopeful that they would not be the social outcasts he expected they would be. Some very prominent guests had attended their wedding, including the Marquess of Fontaine, the Duke of Glasser, and Lucien's brother, Charles, the Marquess of Haverston.

Fontaine had promised to call on them and to urge his sister and her friends to do the same. Julienne's godmother, Lady Canlow, intended to gather together Polite Society's most powerful matrons to put their efforts toward making them acceptable. It wouldn't be easy, and a positive outcome could never be guaranteed, but they would try. And if their efforts didn't meet their aspirations, Julienne truly didn't care that much. Lucien loved her. That was all that mattered. She'd never wanted a boring existence anyway, and life with her domesticated pirate would be anything but.

The bedroom door opened. She watched as her husband walked in and turned the key, locking out the world at large.

He leaned against the door with a smile. "You're naked."

She pointed toward the end of the bed. "It seemed pointless to wear that."

Lucien looked at the filmy night rail slung over the back of a chair. He grinned and looked back at her. "Are you nervous?"

"No," she denied, a little too quickly.

"Well, I am."

Her eyes widened. "You are?"

"Of course I am. You're the last woman I'll ever make love to, and you're a virgin. What if I bungle the first time, and you never want me to touch you again?" He shuddered in horror at the thought.

Julienne's mouth hung open for a moment, and then she fell over laughing. "Oh, heavens, Lucien. That's ridiculous."

She saw the heartbreaking tenderness in his gaze, which was all the more poignant blended with the devilish curve of his smile.

"Feel better now?" he asked gently.

And then she understood. "You were teasing me," she accused without heat, her heart racing madly that this resplendently wicked man was now hers. Forever.

"Relaxing you a bit," he corrected. "You looked tense when I came in." Lucien strolled toward the bed, untying his cravat. The rest of his clothing was hastily discarded. Then he was pressing her into the bed, his body hard and beautifully built.

"We must set some ground rules here, my lady." His kissed the tip of her nose. "First of all, I do all of the touching." He covered her protest with his hand. "I've needed you too long; I won't last if you touch me. For the rest of our lives, you can touch me all you want, whenever you want, but not this first time."

He waited until she nodded her acquiesce and then removed his hand, sliding it downward between her breasts, before letting it come to rest on her hip. "Second, it may be painful. You're very small, and I'm fairly large." He bit back a smile at her choked laugh. "But I'll pleasure you, my love. I promise you that."

"I know you will," she said, loving him even more for his reverent approach to her first time.

"And last but not least, I love you, my wife." He rested his forehead against hers. "With every fiber of my being, I adore you. I intend to cherish you and worship you forever." He brushed kisses against her mouth. Slow, sweet kisses that skillfully stoked her ardor. "I thank you for becoming my wife."

"Oh, Lucien," she sighed, and tugged his mouth back down to hers.

With a chastising murmur Lucien disengaged her hands from behind his neck and laced their fingers together. He concentrated long moments on exploring her mouth, his kisses lazy and drugging, until she writhed against him, begging for his touch.

"Please…"

He smiled, and her heart stopped.

His mouth moved to the slim column of her throat, licking and nipping the sensitive skin. He began to undulate his body against hers, slow, sinuous movements of his powerful frame, awakening every nerve, making her moan with the torment. Lucien made love to her with his mouth, with his hands, with the gentle friction of his body, murmuring praise and encouragement so sweet she wanted to cry.

"These, my love, are perfection." He lavished long licks of his tongue across her nipples and then blew on them, grinning as they puckered. "There is no greater pleasure than having these in my mouth." Bending his head, he suckled her, the rhythmic tugging pulling at places deep inside, driving her to madness. She began to writhe, yanking at his hands, needing to touch him. Burning, aching, her skin was too hot… too tight…

"Darling," she pleaded. But he wouldn't cease, wouldn't release her.

Julienne could feel the pull of his mouth everywhere, the sensation making her squirm as her arousal pooled between her legs. She begged him to hurry, desperate to hold him, kiss him, but Lucien paid her no heed as his mouth teased across her stomach with wet, openmouthed kisses. Moving lower, he spread her thighs wide with the broad expanse of his shoulders. She moaned in relief as his tongue finally delved between her legs.

"Yes," she cried hoarsely, her hips lifting, pressing into his mouth, as her nails dug into the backs of his hands.

"You taste so sweet," he murmured passionately, before he thrust his tongue into her, groaning his pleasure. Julienne moved with him, arching and twisting. He worked urgently, building her desire quickly, brutally, until finally she felt the first clenches of her orgasm. Her back arched, her body tensed…

Lucien pulled away quickly.

"Damn you!" she cried, her eyes squeezed shut as her body trembled with the force of her need.

He laughed softly. "Now is that any way to speak to your husband?"

She opened her eyes as he covered her with his body. "I need you badly," she whispered. "I'll die if you don't take me." Her entire body shuddered, poised on the brink of release and denied.

"I love you," he breathed. And then he was there, the hot tip of him just inside her, stretching her, warning her of what was to come.

Julienne opened her legs wide, her hips arching impatiently, and without further ado he thrust inside, deep and deeper still, until there was no farther he could go. Then he clenched his buttocks and went farther still, filling her, until there was no doubt she belonged to him.

Her breath held in wonder, she felt little of the pain she expected. She merely felt full and hot, her skin covered in a fine sheen of perspiration, her body throbbing around the hard cock that filled her.

Sweat dripped from his brow onto her breasts. Lucien clenched his teeth as he pulled out, despite her protests, and pressed forward again. He rocked his hips against her thighs, slowly working in and out, loosening her.

"Jesus, Julienne," he gasped. "You feel so good…"

She shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable, and he cursed. Startled, she stilled, and he positioned her as he wanted, lifting her leg, opening her, and then he withdrew, only to return with a powerful lunge that made her cry out.

There was no more gentleness after that; Lucien simply wasn't capable of it. As he pounded into her, pinning her hips when she struggled beneath him, Julienne realized why he'd taken such care to arouse her. He'd known, as only an expert lover could, that he would not be able to coddle her through this. He needed her too desperately, had reined in his appetites for too long. Moaning, sobbing, she could only follow his lead, holding still for his pleasure as he stroked his cock deeply within her, almost animalistic in his frenzy.

And it felt so good, she thought she would die of it.

"You're mine," Lucien growled, and he gloried in the knowledge. From the moment he'd first seen her, he'd wanted her just like this. Beneath him, filled with him, completely his in every way.

He plunged into her, gritting his teeth at the overwhelming pleasure of it. She was so hot, so tight, writhing beneath him, mewling, and sobbing his name in a way that made it impossible to slow down or show her a moment's consideration. But she wasn't frightened or timid. Not his sweet Julienne. Her hips met him thrust for thrust, her cream so plentiful his cock was bathed in it, scalded by it.

"That's it," he encouraged, in a voice he barely recognized as his own. He thrust faster, harder, until he was pistoning into her, shoving her up the bed.

And then she tensed, her back bowing beneath him, her cunt gripping him so tightly it slowed his fevered pace. Her eyes flew open and locked with his. "I love you!" she gasped, and then she came, her orgasm milking his cock, luring his seed, until he spilled into her, flooding her, branding her in a way far more primitive than the ring she wore. He threw back his head and growled her name, certain he had never felt such joy in his life.

When he could move again, Lucien rolled, taking his wife with him, draping her limp, sated form over his body. His hands stroked her back, stilling her trembling. He murmured his love, his longing, told her all the things he'd never thought he'd have the opportunity to say. How he loved the smell of her hair and the beauty of her smiles. How he'd dreamed of her and wanted her with a soul-deep desire. How he'd give her the world, because she gave up the one she knew to be with him…

"Darling?" Her voice was a breathless whisper that made his cock swell, the sound of a woman well-pleasured.

Lucien smiled at her endearment, pure contentment pumping through his veins. Had he almost given this up? He thought of the infernal list of marriage prospects and acknowledged what a fool he was. Thank God, Julienne had never given up on him. "Yes, my love?"

He was hard again, the sensual heat of her body over his making him lustful. But Julienne was likely sore and tired. He could wait. She belonged to him now. He had a lifetime ahead with her. A lifetime to love her.

She raised her head from his chest, and her mouth curved seductively. "You're so sweet, my love, with your beautiful words. I would never have guessed you could be so romantic."

Her hand brushed his sweat-dampened hair away from his forehead. "But if you don't mind, could you tell me how much you love me later, and just show me instead?"

With a delighted laugh, Lucien did not hesitate to oblige her.