A Breath of Scandal (20 page)

“Aye, my lord,” the man replied.

A lad burst from the door and fetched their bags as Julian ushered Lara inside. The common room was noisy and filled to capacity with travelers and locals, enjoying the food and drink. Lara pulled the hood of her cloak up but soon learned it wasn’t necessary, for no one paid more than token attention to the newcomers. She stood aside while Julian arranged for their rooms, baths, and a meal.

They climbed the stairs together, followed by the lad with their bags.

Julian stopped before the door to their room and fit the key in the lock. He opened the door and ushered Lara inside. The lad placed their bags inside the room and held out his hand. Julian found another coin, and the lad departed with a smile on his face.

“Is this your room or mine?” Lara asked.

“ ’Tis
our
room,” Julian answered. “You saw how full the inn was. ’Tis the last and only room available.”

Lara went still. She didn’t dare share a room with Julian. ’Twas asking too much of her. She would never stop thinking of him as her husband, or stop remembering how his loving made her blood sing through her veins and her body soar.

Her voice was quiet but emphatic. “No. You’ll have to sleep elsewhere.”

An amused smile kicked up the corner of his mouth. “We’re betrothed, Lara. As good as married.”

“Are we?” Lara challenged.

“I’m not leaving, sweeting,” Julian vowed.

Lara opened her mouth to protest but a knock on the door forestalled her. Julian opened the door, admitting two strapping lads wielding a large wooden tub. The lads set the tub down before the hearth and built up the fire. Moments later a procession of chambermaids carrying buckets of hot and cold water marched through the door.

“Wait two hours before serving our meal,” Julian instructed the last maid as she was about to leave.

“Aye, my lord,” the perky gal said, casting a flirtatious glance at Julian over her shoulder as she closed the door behind her.

“You first,” Julian said, indicating the steaming tub.

Lara turned her back on him. “I think I’ll forgo a bath until we reach our destination.”

“What are you afraid of, Lara?”

Lara bristled. “Certainly not you.”

Julian grinned and started to undress. “I don’t know about you, but that water looks too inviting to waste. Are you certain you don’t want to go first?”

Lara eyed the steaming tub with longing. After the damp fog she’d had to endure, a bath would be heavenly.

“I … oh, all right, but I want you to leave the room while I bathe.”

“Not bloody likely,” Julian muttered. “Shall I help you undress?”

He stepped behind her and removed her cloak. She felt the heat of his hands linger on her back and her protest died in her throat. His touch sent a frisson of excitement down her spine. Her cheeks flushed and her skin suddenly felt too tight for her body. She started to step away from him before she was drawn into his web of seduction, but abruptly he turned her around and drew her into his arms.

“I’ve missed you,” he said in a voice husky with wanting.

Lara flattened her hands against his chest, holding him at bay. “I’m just a substitute for Diana, Julian. Nothing more than a warm body. I won’t let you do this to me.”

He pressed her struggling body closer. The entire length of him felt hard and hot; his manhood stirred against her loins.

“Don’t bring her into this.”

“Why not? She’s very much alive in your heart. So much so that you’d risk your life to avenge her death. I don’t want to be a substitute for another woman. Did you pretend I was Diana when we made love? Was I ever anything more to you than a Gypsy lover unworthy of your name?”

Lara’s words gave Julian pause for thought. Lara
did
mean something to him. He just couldn’t figure out what. If he’d known who she was from the beginning, perhaps he would have … What? Would he have done anything differently? He’d wanted Lara from the first moment he’d become aware of her.

“You should have told me you were Lord Stanhope’s daughter,” he said resentfully. “I believed you were a Gypsy wench who had saved my life by claiming me as her husband. I’m willing to marry you, Lara, does that count for nothing?”

“ ’Tis your honor speaking. Honor is good and well, but I need more from a husband.”

“What about this?” Julian asked as he tunneled his fingers through her hair and tilted her head up. “What about passion? That’s something we have in abundance.”

He kissed her, breathing in her sweet essence, exulting in the satiny feel of her lush lips, the softness of her curvaceous body pressed intimately against his. He deepened the kiss. Too damn many clothes between them, he decided as he frantically worked the buttons free at the back of her bodice. His hand slid over smooth, bare flesh, but it still wasn’t enough.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes,” he whispered against her lips.

“No! Stop! Passion isn’t enough.”

“You want me, Lara. You can’t deny what I know to be the truth.”

His mouth clamped down on hers. He swallowed her protest as his hand moved unerringly to the swollen crests of her breasts. He felt them hardened against his palm and groaned. He thrust his tongue into her mouth as he pressed his hips into the vee between her legs. When he finally freed her mouth, she stepped back and glared at him. Sparks of anger glittered in her dark eyes, but it did not make him want her any less. If anything, her anger fueled his passion.

Lara curled her hand into a fist and aimed for the crest of his cheek. He blocked the blow easily and yanked her hand behind her back. Then he kissed her again, tasting her anger, and something else, something profoundly arousing.

Lara whimpered. His lips were hard and bruising, his tongue thrusting with a determination that robbed her of the will to resist. Then suddenly his mouth softened, the pressure eased. Perhaps it was her whimper, or it could have been the result of her body pushed fiercely against his, but whatever the cause, her passion suddenly kindled and caught fire. When his mouth settled more firmly over hers, she sucked his tongue into her mouth and held it hostage. Abruptly he released her wrist, using both his hands to free her breasts from her bodice and chemise. She wore no corset. She couldn’t bring herself to wear one after enjoying the freedom of Gypsy clothing.

He held her against him, cradling her head and turning it so he could reach every part of her mouth. His hands molded around her breasts and rode the curve of her hips. When she was too weak with longing to resist, he rid her of her skirts. Her chemise followed, leaving her naked but for her shoes and silken stockings tied with dainty ribbons around her thighs.

Lara clutched his arms. A desperate need compelled her to reach up and claw her hands into his hair, to hold him fast against her. Hunger for this exasperating man fueled her passion. Lara savored it, responding to it with a need that was as raw and ungovernable as his. Then his hands delved between them and she felt him fumbling with the buttons on his breeches. She sucked in a shuddering breath when he lifted her against him and slid his hand between her thighs.

His hand came back glistening with moisture. “You’re ready for me, sweeting,” he moaned softly. Then his engorged sex replaced his hand, gliding along her wet, silky cleft. One upward thrust sheathed him snugly within her heat. She inhaled sharply and sucked him inside her. She took him deep, deeper, willingly obeying his terse command to wrap her legs around his waist and ride his powerful strokes.

His thrusts became urgent, almost violent as he drove into her with increasing vigor. His legs, his arms, his entire body shook with the force of his need.

“The bed,” he gasped, staggering forward.

Lara glanced over her shoulder, saw that they had reached the bed, and felt herself being tumbled backward. Julian followed, the downward plunge causing him to surge into her with a ferocity that made them both gasp and cry out. His breath rasped harshly in her ear as his strokes became harder, stronger, faster. Lara thought she’d already experienced the ultimate in pleasure the last time Julian had made love to her, but her memory of it paled compared with the incredible, shimmering orgasms ripping through her now, shattering her body into a million white-hot fragments, each one brighter than the one before.

Dimly she felt him grasp her hips, lifting her into his driving thrusts. Felt his mouth pull on her nipple, suckling her forcefully. Then she heard the roar of his voice in her ear and felt a surge of incredible heat splashing against her womb. When he slumped against her, she accepted the weight of his body and held him close.

Lara regained her wits slowly. She opened her eyes and found Julian gazing down at her. His eyes were darkly probing, uncomfortably intense. As if he were trying to make sense out of what had just happened between them. Her own thoughts were perfectly clear. It was appalling to feel this powerful need for a man who would never love her.

“Forgive me for losing control,” Julian said, lifting himself off her. “I meant to do this slowly, savoring you as I would a fine wine. Just let me catch my breath and we’ll do it right this time.”

Lara watched him through slumberous eyes as he shed his coat and vest and unbuttoned his shirt. She seriously doubted she could survive another of his passionate assaults.

“The tub will grow cold,” she protested weakly.

“Let it.”

He tossed his shirt aside and slid his breeches down his legs. She stared at him, astounded that his sleek body could harbor so many muscles. Not an ounce of spare flesh resided anywhere on his body. His shoulders were broad, his chest a mass of rippling tendons, and his entire frame, clear down to his elegant feet, bespoke his noble birth.

His boots hit the floor, one by one. He stepped out of his breeches, rolling his stockings down with them. The sight of him standing over her was so daunting she couldn’t look away. She loved this man, she realized with a start. Loved him too much to marry him. Loving Julian with little hope of being loved in return would utterly destroy her.

Julian moved to the tub, wet a cloth, and returned to the bed. She offered a tepid protest when he spread her legs and washed away the remnants of his seed. Then he cleansed himself and sank down on the bed, his hot gaze flowing over her body like warm honey.

He touched her breasts, then lowered his head to suckle her. A groan formed in her throat and left her mouth in a whoosh of air when his lips traveled downward, over her belly, to the tops of her stockings. He released one ribbon with his mouth and kissed a path down her leg, slowly rolling the stocking down and away. He repeated the movement on the other leg. Her body caught fire. She arched against him as his mouth climbed upward, to the triangle of curls nestled between her legs.

“Julian …”

“Aye, sweeting.”

“We shouldn’t … you don’t …”

He buried his face between her legs and touched her with his tongue. She grasped a handful of bedclothes and arched against him.

He raised his head and favored her with a devastating grin. “What shouldn’t we do, sweeting?”

His mouth returned to the tender flesh between her legs. Lara’s mind drew a blank. She could think of nothing save for Julian’s hungry mouth on her. His tongue grew bold, slipping into the moist sheath of her womanhood in a long, thrilling slide, and her wits flew out the window.

“What was your question? I can’t think with you … you … oh, God, you’re killing me.”

“Don’t think. I want to feel you shudder beneath my mouth, I want to taste your passion.”

His erotic words spurred her ardor as she writhed beneath the punishing ecstasy of his mouth and tongue. Her breath rasped loudly in the waiting silence as he drove her higher and higher, her body tense, swollen, moving closer, ever closer to the release he demanded of her. Then she was there, screaming his name, clutching his hair in her fists, fearing he’d stop, loving everything he did to her.

She was still shuddering in the aftermath of her climax when Julian raised up and buried himself deep inside her throbbing sheath. He held himself still for a breathless moment, establishing control, but the need to drive himself to completion overpowered him. He groaned and thrust forcefully. It didn’t take long. Within minutes he was lost in the throes of a violent climax. His seed spewed forth and he shouted her name.

Julian regained his wits first. Lara was lying beside him, her body limp, a sweet smile on her face.

“How about that bath now?”

“Not now,” she murmured sleepily.

“Now,” Julian insisted.

He scooped her up and carried her to the tub. Lara squealed a protest as he lowered her into the water. “It’s cold.”

“Move over,” Julian said, stepping over the rim of the tub.

“There isn’t room.”

“We’ll make room.”

She scooted forward; he sat down behind her. It was a tight fit but Julian didn’t complain. He picked up the washcloth, lathered it with soap, and ran it over her back in a long, sensual slide. By the time they had washed each other in the cramped space, more water resided on the floor than in the tub. A knock on the door announcing the arrival of their food sent them scrambling from the tub and into enough clothing to satisfy the chambermaid’s sensibilities.

They ate in silence. Julian was starved, and from the way Lara was devouring her dinner, he knew she was as hungry as he. After their meal, Julian sat back in his chair and stared at her.

“How long do you think it will take to find the Romany camp?”

“Papa’s estate is vast, but there are several sites Pietro prefers above others. We’ll look at those first. How long will we remain with the Rom? Not that I’m complaining, mind you. The best times of my life are those I’ve spent with Ramona and Pietro.”

“I don’t know,” Julian mused. “In a few weeks I’ll return to London and speak with my superior. I narrowed the suspects to a few men with high connections. He’s someone with access to secret information.

“You have someone in mind, don’t you?” Lara questioned.

“Aye.”

“Tell me.”

“No. Knowledge is dangerous. I’m close, I know I am. The Jackal is showing signs of fear. He’s striking back at me by threatening you and my family.”