Three Nights with a Scoundrel

For those few precious hours, they’d made him feel he belonged here. In a way that Julian—a bastard child raised on the streets—couldn’t remember feeling he’d ever belonged, anywhere.



“I suppose,” he said honestly, “I decided I liked you too well to seduce you.”



She laughed with self-effacing charm. “There’s a compliment to me in there somewhere. If I think on it long enough, perhaps I’ll make it out.”



Julian hated to offend her, but he could see no good way to end this conversation. A blunt exit was his only hope. “I’m sorry, but I have business that requires my attention.” That wasn’t prevarication. He was horribly late to his office, again. “We’ll practice again tomorrow.”



“Wait.”



What could he do? He waited.



“If I really intend to do this,” she said, picking at an invisible bit of fluff on his sleeve, “… attend this assembly, invite the attention of suitors … I need practice with more than just dancing.”



He frowned, waiting for her to explain.



“I’ve lost all talent for flirtation. What little I possessed to begin with. I can’t even remember the last time I was kissed.” She threw him a quick, guilty glance. “Well … er … aside from the other morning, but that hardly counts.”



“Right.” Good Lord, would he never live that down?



Her words tumbled out in a breathy rush. “Anyway, I just thought perhaps, since there was once a time when you actually meant to pursue me … and since you say you’ve always found me attractive … that maybe you wouldn’t mind … kissing me now.”



He could only stare at her. Somewhere in that great chain of words, had she just asked him to kiss her?



“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m being ridiculous.”



He nodded. Yes, ridiculous.



She took a deep breath and began again, looking him full in the eye as she spoke. Her whole demeanor had changed. No girlish nervousness now, just direct communication, woman to man. “Julian, let me be perfectly clear. In an embarrassing, utterly juvenile way, I am offering you the chance to kiss me. Just this once, without promise or penalty attached. Without the influence of sleeping powder.” Her voice dropped to a sultry whisper. “Without interruption.”



She stared at his mouth, awaiting his response. Which made him stare at hers. Her lips were so pink and so plump and so alluring. And trembling, just a little, because despite the forthrightness of her request, she was frightened of what came next.



She was wise to be afraid. She wanted a kiss? He wanted more. So many impulses buffeted him. Not just the tickling breeze of fancies, but full-force, catastrophic monsoons of desire. If she could see the images whipping through his mind, she would turn on her heel and run. In one instant, he wanted to hold her, wrap his body around hers, and protect her from the world. In the next, he wanted to strip her bare and ravish her completely. Possess her, lay waste to her, have her naked and quivering right here on the floor.



Truly, man? On the floor?



Yes, devil take it. He was that depraved. He wanted this elegant, noble lady who was thirteenth in line for the Crown, and he wanted her bared and panting on the waxed parquet. A kiss was what she asked, but for him—a kiss would not be enough.



And now Julian trembled, because he was a little scared, too.



At some point, he’d released her hand. Her touch had slid from his shoulder. They stood facing one another, arms dangling at their sides. They weren’t even touching anymore. It ought to be easy to walk away.



Just like waltzing. Slide one foot back …



“A kiss, Julian. Just this once.” As his hesitation stretched, her brown eyes glimmered with hurt. “Are you truly going to refuse?”



He closed his eyes. Sighed. Opened them again.



And spoke the only word he could.



“No.”



The decision made itself. He lashed one arm around her waist, cinching her close. With his other hand he cradled her neck, tilting her lips to just the perfect angle.



Because this time, damn it—he was going to do this right.



Chapter Nine



Lily knew all about Julian Bellamy. He was a profligate seducer, an infamous rake, a devil-may-care scoundrel.



Who could have guessed the man would be so difficult to kiss?



First that disastrous lip-lock in the early morning yesterday, then their interrupted embrace at Morland House … Lily was hoping the third time would prove the charm. All morning, she’d been waiting for him to make the advance. She’d all but begged him to dance with her. She’d nudged the conversation down suggestive paths.



Finally, she’d decided to take matters into her own hands. And she’d juggled those matters clumsily, nearly dashing them to bits on the floor. But none of it mattered now. Because now his arm was around her, holding her fast, and his strong hand cupped the back of her neck. She’d just read that thrilling “no” on his sensuous lips, and his eyes were full of affirmation. He wanted her, that intense blue gaze said. And this time, he meant to have her.



His lips met hers, and her eyes fluttered closed.



Yes, the third time was a charm.



The third time was pure magic.



He kissed her firmly, then softly. A bit too chastely for her preference. Lily felt herself growing impatient for more. But he refused to hurry, wouldn’t heed the plaintive whimpers tickling the back of her throat.



No, he took the kiss slowly, leading the way with tender, masterful care. Sipping first at her lower lip, then the upper. Teasing the corner of her mouth with his tongue, until her lips parted to release a sigh of pure delight.



His tongue slid inside her mouth, and she welcomed the gentle invasion. At first she tried to hold still, as it only seemed the hospitable thing. She’d invited him in, and the least she could do was facilitate his exploration. But as his tongue rubbed hers again and again, she found herself moving helplessly against him. Snaking her arms around his neck, nestling closer into his embrace.



Lily didn’t have a great deal of experience to judge by, but from where she was standing … he was very, very good at this.



There was spice and a hint of sweetness in his kiss, and she curled one hand into his hair, drawing him close so she could savor it. How was it possible she could know a man so well, but only now be learning his taste? He thrust his tongue deeper, and she closed her lips around it, suckling lightly.



He groaned. She felt the sound rumbling from his chest. The low vibration played her ribs like piano keys, and the tune was a slow, sensual burlesque. They were dancing to it, the two of them, moving mouths and hips in a steady rhythm.



Her whole body sparked and snapped with sensation. Another lady might have thought to herself, I can’t wait to tell my friends how wonderful this is. But instead Lily thought to herself, I can’t wait to tell Julian how wonderful this is. She almost laughed at the irony. But she didn’t dare let him in on her joke or pay him any pride-swelling compliments just yet. She was too afraid of breaking the spell, because …



Oh, because.



His hand had begun a slow, steady descent from the small of her back, down the curve of her hip, all the way to the bottom of her … well, of her bottom. He palmed one cheek of her backside and squeezed, lifting her up on her toes and pulling her flush against him. Taking the kiss to a whole new level.



His chest was hard; his abdomen, flat. She loved pressing against him, feeling her pliant, feminine contours mold around his solid male physique. And, wedged against her soft belly, the stiff ridge of his manhood made quite the impression. His obvious arousal only inflamed her own desire. Her nipples puckered to tight darts, jutting against the restrictive confines of her bodice. She imagined how they must look—red, puckered nubs standing out, desperate for attention. His attention. Because he would understand just how to soothe them.



As he claimed her mouth over and over, she writhed in his arms, trying to ease the ache in her breasts. The friction only stoked a different flame of need. One that burned deeper, darker. Distinctly lower, down between her legs.



This … this was true desire. This was animal lust.



This was never going to end. Not if Lily could help it.



She might be inexperienced, but she was hardly a ninny or a prude. She understood the sensation of arousal. She’d felt, many times, physical attraction to a man. But never before had she found herself in this kind of situation, where proximity and possibility worked their strange alchemy, transforming vague desire into urgent, undeniable need.



Her breathing, her hunger, even the beating of her heart … her every primal instinct centered on one goal. And Lily clung to it—to him—with both hands.



Until he let her go. Lifted his mouth from hers and released her with no warning whatsoever.



She swayed, unsteady on her feet. He grasped her by the shoulders and braced her with outstretched arms, holding her up. But also holding her away. Stunned, she blinked hard at his cravat, gasping for breath.



He dipped his head to catch her attention. “Lily …” His gaze was steeped with regret. “Lily, I’m—”



“Don’t.” She closed her eyes in defiance. At her sides, she clenched her hands in fists. “Don’t tell me you’re sorry. I’m not sorry. I could never regret what just happened between us. It was wonderful, Julian. I haven’t felt so alive in months. Years. And if you mean to apologize for it … to give me some nonsense about liking me too much to spare me the attentions you’ve lavished on half the female population of the ton …” She sniffed. “Please, just don’t.”



Another, more prudent lady would be grateful he’d showed restraint. It was a true compliment, that Julian liked and respected her too much to seduce her. That he’d been attracted to her all this time, but he valued their friendship too much to act on that desire. He didn’t want Lily to be just another garter decorating the club’s billiard room. She understood. It was decent of him. She’d always known him to be a decent man, at heart. It was only … she’d just had her first taste of his indecent side.



And she’d liked it, a great deal.



Finally, she opened her eyes. Only to find him wearing a sheepish grin.



“Lily, I only meant to say … I’m sorry, but there’s a damned parrot on my shoulder.”



She jerked her gaze to the right. There, from its perch on Julian’s impeccably tailored sleeve, the bird in question swiveled its head and stretched its beak in a squawk.



Lily put a hand over her mouth, laughing into it until tears streaked her face. Tears of relief, more than amusement. “Dratted bird,” she finally managed. “What a nuisance you are.”



“Shall I take him away?”



“No, no. Just one more way he reminds me of you.”



“Brilliant.” With a gentle touch and soothing words, he coaxed the bird from his arm to his outstretched finger. He returned the parrot to its cage and latched the door.



When he came back to Lily, Julian’s expression was serious. “All joking aside, Lily. You know nothing can happen between us.”



“Something’s already happened between us.”



He sighed. “Nothing more.”



“Julian, please. I asked for one kiss. We shared one kiss. If it can never go further than that, I understand. All I’m asking is … don’t dismiss what happened. Don’t wish it away.” She reached for his hand. “And don’t leave. Or if you must go, take me with you. I don’t want to be alone. I’ve been spending far too much time alone. We could go somewhere, anywhere … What about the theater?”



His surprise was evident. “The theater?”



“Yes.” The idea took form as she spoke. “Yes, I want to go to the theater. I read in the paper they’re doing something of Molière’s at Drury Lane. I should like to see it. I haven’t been to the theater in years.”