She was afraid, all right. Of the dark glint in his eyes, the seductive set of his mouth. Of the whispered words that captivated her, suspending her between wild desire and reality. Something in her womb fluttered, a rush of breath escaped her. Julian ran a thumb across her lips, and as if in a dream, she watched as he lowered his head to hers, quailing only when his lips brushed softly across hers. Her lids fluttered shut, and she at once felt outside of herself, almost as if someone else was experiencing the tender pressure of his mouth and tongue.
What was she doing? Her mind screamed to stop, knowing that his kiss could melt all of her defenses, knowing that it was nothing more than play to him. Yet her heart had raced too far ahead, her body simmered beneath his hands, and she instinctively feared that it would take a team of four to pull her away from him now.
His hands came up and cupped her face, barely touching her, yet sending a thousand tiny bolts of electricity through her. He drew her lips between his teeth one at a time, tasting and shaping them to his will. With his tongue, he probed deeply, while his hands trailed to her ears, her neck, and her shoulders. She had the strong sensation of drifting, and he must have thought so, too, because he slipped one arm around her waist, anchoring her to him.
This was insanity! It was madness that allowed him to use her, madness that allowed him to charm her into this! But when he deepened the kiss, Claudia boldly pushed her tongue forward to explore his mouth. It was wonderfully erotic, the taste of champagne on his breath, the feel of his tongue twining with hers. With the tips of her fingers, she felt the cut of his thick sideburns against his skin, the tender spot of his temple, the satin feel of his hair. She had never kissed like this, never experienced such a swell of pleasure as this. . ..
Julian suddenly wrapped his arms around her and hauled her into his chest, pressing her tightly against him as he surged into her mouth. His arousal pressed hard and long against her belly, and when he lifted her onto the workbench, against the apex of her thighs. Fascinated— provoked—she moved against the hardness, wanting to feel it through her skirts.
With a moan deep in his throat, Julian suddenly toppled her onto her back on top of the workbench and covered her.
One hand spanned the whole of her rib cage, moving upward until it rested against the side of her breast. With the heel of his hand, he pressed against it while his mouth moved over hers, filling her with his tongue and his breath and his passion.
The prurient sensations unfurling in her body numbed her mind to everything, including her conscience. Claudia's hands tangled urgently in his hair, then fell to his shoulders to feel the muscles there and in his back contract with his movement. His hand pressed more firmly against her breast; his thumb flicked across the hardened peak pressing against her gown, and another violent shudder rifled through her.
Julian lifted his head, sucking in his breath. "You are right to fear me," he gasped. "I fear myself—I want to touch all of you, every inch of you." His lips skimmed the column of her neck as his hand cupped her breast, squeezing gently, fitting it to his palm.
She wanted him to touch every inch of her, and it scared her. "I fear myself more," she exclaimed hoarsely, and pushed against his chest. "I don't know why I allow you to seduce me like this!"
"Seduce you? Darling, you seduce me, with your eyes and your mouth and your voice," he murmured hoarsely. "Can't you believe that I want you? Can't you feel that I do?"
Oh, she could feel it, deep inside her, tingling in the pit of her belly. "I know what you are doing, Julian. You are toying with me—"
"Not with you, Claudia. Never with you," he whispered earnestly, and continued his gentle assault of all her senses. Her body was giving way to him even though her heart knew it was a tryst, a meaningless dalliance. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to drift even further down this course with him, instinctively knowing she had passed the point of return and that she couldn't stop this now, that she didn't want it to stop. Her body burned everywhere he touched her—and when he reached inside her gown and freed her breast from her camisole and bodice, she felt herself slide even deeper into a fog of pure, undiluted pleasure. Her breast swelled in his hand; his fingers massaged the tender flesh that had never been touched by another living soul, sending waves of desire crashing through her.
But when his lips closed around her, the desire spiraled out of control, drawing from a well between her legs and pulsing to the breast that he suckled. He snaked one arm behind her back and lifted her to his mouth. Claudia's arms entwined above her head; pots and trowels crashed to the gravel below them. She felt herself surging upward as the desire she was feeling built to an intolerable pitch, its pressure both sharp and pleasurable—
"Oh my God!"
A woman's voice, an intruder, shattered the passion that surrounded them and Claudia suddenly could not breathe. She struggled to sit up, but Julian shoved her off the side of the bench, away from the door. She landed hard on the gravel; pebbles embedded in the palms of her hands. Her first thought was that he had shoved her away in shame, but she realized he had come to his feet, was standing between her and whoever had found them.
"Good God, is that you, Kettering?" The voice belonged to Harrison Green. Now on all fours, Claudia crawled to safety behind the bench and several potted plants. "I saw a light and I thought—"
"Who is that?" the woman's voice whispered audibly. "Claudia Whitney?"
"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Frankton, you are mistaken," Julian said sharply. Behind the bench, Claudia wrapped her arms around her knees and buried her face on the top of them. "Sorry about the light, Green . . . you understand?" Julian continued.
Harrison nervously cleared his throat. "Yes, yes. We two were just wandering about. So sorry to have disturbed you. Mrs. Frankton? Shall we rejoin the others?"
The woman made a sound of disapproval, and then Claudia heard the rustle of her petticoats. There was some flurry of movement at the door, and after what seemed like minutes, it closed.
"Claudia."
There was regret in Julian's voice, but not nearly as much as was in her heart at that moment. She was ruined.
"Claudia," he said again, and his hands were on her arms, pulling her to her feet. She stumbled upward, realized she was still in a shocking state of undress, and quickly turned away to arrange herself as her mind rifled through all the horrible possibilities—of which there were an alarming number.
"What_. . ._" Her voice was shaking; she could not bring herself to speak.
Julian moved, slipping his arm around her abdomen and pulling her into his chest, and Claudia realized she was trembling uncontrollably. "It's all right," he whispered into her hair. "Everything will be all right."
That was a lie, and well she knew it. "No it won't," she hoarsely disagreed. "Mrs. Frankton knows it was me . . . with you . . . like that. You know her as well as I . . . it shall be all over town on the morrow!" Her father. He would expire with shame.
"Then marry me."
Claudia froze. Neither one of them moved for a moment until she suddenly began to slap his arm away from her waist as if it were a snake and staggered free of him. She was frightened now, truly frightened—for a man like Julian to offer marriage .. . "You are insane!" she said harshly, and pressed her hands to her abdomen to keep the tremors from erupting into illness.
"Claudia, listen to me! I have compromised you irrevocably. I should not be able to live with myself if I did not set the matter to rights, and I daresay you will suffer the most from it. Think about it—it's a good match, you and I. We know each other quite well—what more could we ask?"
"You can't be serious!" she cried, and moved unsteadily, frantically into the shadows. What did he think, that after all he had done she would waltz to the altar with him? So what if he had been seen latched to her naked breast? Such things happened all the time among the ton, and everyone knew it! It was a meaningless dalliance, nothing more!
"Listen to me, Claudia. This will ruin your reputation—"
"Oh God, don't try and convince me that you would save my reputation!" Hysteria was rising in her throat, choking her. She pressed her hands to her cheeks—they were blazing. Her father would kill her, or at the very least, lock her away. How many times had he told her? Everything she did reflected on him, and therefore, the king . . .
Julian was suddenly beside her, his hand anxiously on her arm. "What options do you have? You must consider your reputation, and there is your father's position with the king—at the very least I owe you the protection of my name. It's not a bad solution, Claudia, and really, it's the best one."
Lord God, she couldn't breathe, much less think. It was all so fantastic, so very absurd! She would not marry for the mistake of sampling carnal pleasure! Men did it all the time—why couldn't she? Why should her reputation suffer for it? His certainly wouldn't! "I will not bend to the outdated expectations of the ton in this!" she exclaimed wildly. "I will not be forced into marriage because of some ridiculous fear for my reputation. Your reputation won't suffer as a result!"
"But yours will, Claudia. They will cut you directly, refer to you in reprehensible terms in their parlors, and by all means, keep their children from you for fear your behavior will infect them. You know it is true. It is the way of our world."
Our world. It had happened to Sarah Cafferty. Seduced into a lord's bed, disgraced and banished to the country, unmarriageable, untouchable. God help her, it had happened to Sarah Cafferty, the daughter of a marquis, and it could happen to her. Oh Lord, oh Lord, why had she succumbed to the temptation of passion with him? To be brought down by him, just as Phillip had been, all because she desired his kiss!
Claudia had never felt so despicably low in all her life.
"You know I'm right. Look, let me go out and bring a carriage around. Let's quit this place—we'll go some place private and talk. But we can't stay here—"
"There is nothing to talk about," she bit out. "I won't marry you, Julian. Not ever."
Silence.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and cringed—his eyes were blazing. "Indeed it is not the ideal circumstance, but I cannot think of what you could possibly—"
"I will not marry you over such a silly, meaningless mistake, but moreover, I will not marry you because I honor Phillip!"
"What has Phillip to do with any of it?" he snapped. "I don't think he is coming to your rescue, Claudia! Mother of God, what can I say to make you under-stand? You, Lady Claudia, the daughter of the very powerful Earl of Redbourne, were seen on this bench, beneath a man—"
"Beneath a man who prides himself on being a rake! Beneath a man who led another man to his death! I will not forget what you did to Phillip, and I will not fetter myself to you for all eternity because of it. I shall face ruination before I dishonor his memory!"
Stunned, Julian took a step backward as if she had slapped him. "What in God's name are you talking about?" he asked roughly.
"You kept him from me!" she cried hysterically. "You kept him from me and coerced him into accompanying you to all those places that ruined him! Albright may have shot him, Julian, but you put him in that field!"
Raw pain hardened his features; he glared at her, his black eyes gleaming with the fire of abomination, his lips pressed tightly together. He finally looked away, clearly disgusted, and shoved a hand through his hair as Claudia caught a ragged breath in her throat.
"No one believes that more than I do," he muttered angrily. "God knows, when Phillip was on top of a whore at Farantino's or putting himself further into debt he was not with you. You are right—I killed him. I, Julian Dane, led him to his demise, and tonight I almost met my own. Thank you, Lady Claudia, for stopping me from making the biggest mistake of my life."
Claudia gaped at him, unable to speak.
"Good luck—you are going to need all that you can get," he said bitterly, and quit the hothouse, leaving her to find her own way out of this mess.
The Earl of Redbourne heard the first ugly rumor concerning his daughter not two days after the alleged incident had occurred. He was seated in a chair turned toward the great hearth at his club, sipping his usual port and languidly puffing on a cigar when he had the grave misfortune to overhear a snippet of what Sir Robert Clyde was loudly bragging. Having indulged in a half dozen too many brandies, Sir Clyde apparently did not know that Redbourne was sitting where he was, or else he would never have said what he did—that he, too, had once tasted the lips of Lady Claudia, and would have tasted all of her had they had but a moment more in the coach.
Shocked, Redbourne did not even realize he had dropped his port and come to his feet—his only thought was that Sir Clyde had just uttered the grounds of his own death warrant. And Redbourne would have called him out then and there, but his old friend Lord Hatfield intercepted him, pulled him away, and quietly told him of the tale that was circulating freely among the ton.
The news that Claudia had been caught in flagrante delicto at a Harrison Green affair had rendered Red-bourne speechless. Staring at Hatfield, he slowly sank into the leather wingback chair, shaking like a leaf.
It was inconceivable—his daughter would never do such a thing! He frantically reminded himself that Claudia had been raised in the best of circumstances, had been perfectly trained for her role as a peer's wife and hostess. It simply was not possible that she would allow herself to be pawed by a despicable Rogue of Regent Street, and especially not Julian Dane!
It was incomprehensible.
And he repeated that over and over as he hurried home, intent on hearing what had transpired at that rout from his daughter's own lips. He would hear it all, then think what to do to keep the ugly rumors from spreading too far—to the king, for godsakes!
He arrived home at the same time Lord Montfort's footman was leaving. Standing in the foyer, Redbourne gestured for the note the man had brought. It was addressed to Claudia. Redbourne opened it, feeling not one scintilla of guilt—she was still his daughter and his responsibility, and as such, her mail was open to his inspection. He quickly scanned the vellum and felt his pulse begin to quicken with dread. The note very politely conveyed that, due to unforeseen circum-stances, Lord Montfort would not be making a donation to Claudia's charitable project. No other explanation was given, nor was one needed.