SEDUCED AT MIDNIGHT

by Jacquie D'Alessandro

  His teacup froze halfway to his lips. His hot gaze bored into hers for several seconds, then he slowly set aside his cup and rose. He backed several steps away from the settee until he stood before the hearth. Julianne might have been thoroughly discouraged were it not for how his damp pants clung to the irrefutable evidence of his desire for her.

  "What are you doing?" he demanded.

  She huffed out an impatient breath. Clearly any form of subtlety was lost on this man. "I'm trying to get you to show me what you referred to this afternoon—just before we were interrupted—as your best. If you'll recall, you were about to kiss me."

  "That … shouldn't have happened."

  Her heart sank. "And last night?"

  "You know the answer to that as well as I do."

  She rose and joined him near the fire, stopping when a mere arm's length separated them. Longing raced through her, and the sense of urgency, of time running out, of her parents soon returning suddenly overwhelmed her. Capturing his hand between both of hers, she gripped his fingers tightly.

  "I know what answer I'm expected to give, but it isn't what's in my heart. I … I have this recurring dream… a nightmare, actually. I'm in the middle of a crowd, trapped inside a glass coffin. I scream and cry and pound on the glass, but no one pays the slightest attention. They all just go about their business as if I'm not there. I'm trying to tell people that I'm alive. Tell them what I want, my hopes and dreams, but no one listens. No one cares."

  He frowned. "That's just a dream—"

  "No. It's my life. And I'm tired, so tired of imagining, of dreaming. Of wanting but never having."

  An incredulous sound passed his lips. "What are you talking about? You have more than anyone I've ever known."

  She felt him tugging his hand from hers, felt her chance slipping away. She tightened her grip, then pressed their joined hands to the center of her chest. "Yes, if you count gowns or jewels or invitations to parties."

  "And you don't?"

  "As anyone would, I enjoy the creature comforts provided by my position. I've no desire to be cold or hungry. But once those necessities are seen to … fancy gowns and parties are not important to me. Not nearly as much as other things."

  "Such as?"

  "Love. Laughter. Companionship. Desire. Romance. Passion. They are what I long for." She lifted one hand and skimmed her fingers over his brow. Down his cheek, to his firm jaw, his faint stubble rasping against her skin. For several seconds he remained immobile under her touch. Then he jerked away as if she'd burned him.

  "Stop that," he said, his voice resembling a low growl.

  He was breathing hard, and his eyes glowed like ebony coals. Unable to stop herself, she stepped forward and erased the distance he'd just put between them. She placed her hands on his chest, her palms absorbing the rapid beat of his heart. Looking into his eyes, she whispered, "I can't." Her fingers splayed over the hard muscles of his chest.

  He gripped her wrists, halting her explorations. "You're playing with fire."

  "Am I? It doesn't seem so."

  "One of us has to show some restraint."

  "Really? Well, in that case, I congratulate you, as you've shown a frustrating amount thus far." She took another step forward. Mere inches now separated them. His scent wrapped around her: rain mixed with a hint of damp linen and something else she couldn't define except to know it belonged to him alone. She could feel the heat emanating from his body. "This afternoon you were about to kiss me when we were interrupted."

  "That was a mistake."

  "The interruption? Yes, I agree. One I'd like very much to remedy. Right now."

  His fingers tightened on her wrists. "Kissing you was a mistake, Lady Julianne. One I don't want to repeat."

  "You didn't mind calling me Julianne earlier … Gideon. And as for you not wanting to repeat our kiss…" She yanked her hand from his grasp and ran it swiftly downward, intending to point to the evidence of his desire. But he moved, setting her slightly off balance, and the back of her hand brushed the hard bulge in his breeches.

  "Bloody hell." The obscenity was a low-pitched hiss on his quick intake of breath.

  The bulge pulsed against her fingers in a manner so fascinating she couldn't pull her hand away. She swallowed and forced herself to boldly reach for what she wanted so badly. Gideon's passion. Now. Before she was entombed with the duke for a lifetime.

  Summoning her courage, she brushed her fingers down his length. "This tells me you want to. Very much. Gideon, the only time I've ever felt free of that glass coffin is when you kissed me."

  Instead of pulling away as she feared he might, he gazed at her through half-closed eyes and gave a slow thrust into her hand. The feel of him, so hard and hot, reduced her knees to porridge.

  "I'm not some fancy, polite aristocrat with ice flowing in his blue-blooded veins that'll treat you like a fragile bit of glass, Julianne." His voice sounded scraped from his throat.

  "To which I can only say thank God."

  The raw hunger in his eyes all but devoured her. He wrapped one strong arm around her and jerked her against him. "You want a kiss? Very well, I'll oblige you, Princess. But be warned: you're about to find out precisely what a few swipes of the tongue can accomplish."

  Chapter 11

  Gideon didn't give her time to think, didn't give himself time to think, to reconsider. Damn it, he didn't want to think anymore. Couldn't fight this raw, raging need any longer. All he wanted was to feel. Her. All of her. Now.

  He slanted his mouth over hers in a hard, hungry, demanding kiss. What sounded like a whimper came from her, but before he could even wonder if he'd hurt her, she proved he hadn't by winding her arms around his neck and pressing herself against him.

  He clasped her to him, every muscle straining to get her closer, while his tongue explored the velvet of her mouth. Bloody hell, if heaven had a taste, she was it. Soft, warm, sweet, and delicious. Her body fit against his like a piece of a puzzle he hadn't known was missing. A tiny granule of sanity tried to work its way through the wild, desperate need careening through him but was incinerated when she squirmed against him.

  White-hot desire exploded, and with a groan that seemed ripped from the depths of his soul, he ran one impatient hand down her back to curve around her lush bottom, to pull her tighter against his aching body. Possibly, just possibly he might have been able to dredge up the strength to halt this madness if she'd remained passive in his arms. But with her fingers sliding through his hair, her tongue dancing with his, and her body writhing against him, he didn't stand a chance.

  His other hand plunged into her hair, scattering pins, sifting through a cascade of soft curls. The seductive scent of vanilla filled his head, overwhelming him with the need to taste.

  Without breaking their frantic kiss, he scooped her into his arms then lowered her to the hearth rug, following her down. While his lips continued to ravage hers, he insinuated his knee between her thighs, and his hand found the soft swell of her breast. A low groan sounded. Hers, he thought, but he couldn't be sure.

  Needed to touch her… had to touch her. He yanked down her bodice until her breasts were freed, and only then did he find the strength to leave her lips. He kissed his way along her jaw then ran his tongue along the side of her neck, gently sucking on the throbbing pulse there.

  "Gideon…" his name, whispered on that breathy sigh, ignited even more of the fire in him that he would have sworn couldn't burn any hotter. She arched beneath him, and he dragged his mouth lower. His tongue circled one nipple then drew the tight bud deep into his mouth while his fingers found the other crest. Her hands fisted in his hair and she gasped, then released her breath on a long moan of pleasure.

  He kissed and nuzzled his way around her luscious breasts, teasing and licking with his lips and tongue, lightly grazing her soft skin with his teeth, while his hand wandered lower, exploring the curve of her waist and hips through her gown. When his fingers curled over her mound, her heat nearly sin
ged him.

  A single word pounded through his mind, the same mantra that had been driving him mad with want for the past two months. Julianne…Julianne. His usual control burned to ashes, leaving only a hot, raw, desperate need that demanded to be satisfied. Wanting, needing more, he reached down and slipped his hand beneath the hem of her gown. Skimmed his palm up her stocking-covered leg, over the gentle curve of her calf and thigh. His restless fingers unerringly found the slit in her drawers. The first touch of her slick feminine folds nearly undid him. Bloody hell, she was so wet. So hot.

  She groaned again, and he lifted his head. And gritted his teeth against the arousing sight of her. Hair a golden tumble of disarray, moist, kiss-swollen lips parted, eyes glazed and half-closed, nipples erect and wet from his mouth. Bathed in the glow from the fire, she somehow managed to look like an angel and living, breathing sin at the same time.

  He lowered his head and brushed his mouth over hers. "Spread your legs," he whispered against her lips.

  She splayed her thighs, and he teased her wet folds with a single fingertip. "Wider," he demanded. Once again she did as he bade, her ragged breaths warming his face. She clutched at his shoulders and lifted her hips, and another groan escaped her, this one ending with his name.

  "Gideon…"

  "Shhhh," he whispered against her ear.

  "I … ohhhh, my … I can't. I feel as if I'm going to scream."

  "If you do, you'll bring the entire household down upon us." He lifted his head and looked into her glazed eyes. "Neither of us wants that." God knows he didn't. He wasn't nearly done with her.

  She pressed her lips together. "I'll try to be quiet but—ohhhh—you're making it extremely difficult." She glided her hand down his chest, over his abdomen, and his muscles jumped. "I want to touch you, too."

  He pressed his erection against her hip to thwart her eager hand. Bloody hell, it was all he could do not to come as it was. One touch from her, and he'd explode in a heartbeat.

  "Not now," he said against her lips. He eased one finger into her tight sheath to distract her and had to grit his teeth to contain the growl that rose in his throat. By God, she was tight. And so damn wet. And hot. And soft. And he was so damn hard he was going to lose his mind. More, damn it. He wanted more. Now. Now.

  He slipped his hand from her body and, ignoring her sound of protest, moved to kneel between her splayed thighs. Heart pounding as if he'd sprinted to Bow Street

  and back, he impatiently pushed her gown up to her waist. Quickly unfastened her drawers. Grimly noted that his hands were far from steady.

  Desperate need unlike anything he'd ever experienced grabbed him in a vise. He yanked her thin cotton drawers down and off her legs, not pausing or caring when the delicate material tore. If he'd had the mind to do so, he would have been appalled at his lack of control, but he was beyond caring about anything save the dark, wild, reckless need clawing at him.

  The instant he'd tossed aside her ruined drawers, he set his hands on her raised knees and urged her legs apart. Damp golden curls surrounded her glistening sex. He inhaled sharply at the sight, and his head filled with the musky tang of her arousal mixed with the intoxicating scent of vanilla. Bloody hell, it was the most delicious fragrance he'd ever smelled. Slipping his hands beneath her, he raised her hips and dipped his head.

  Julianne bit her lips together to stifle the cry of surprise and shocking carnal pleasure that begged to escape. The sight of Gideon's dark head buried between her thighs alone was enough to wring a shout of delight from her. But what he was doing with his mouth … his lips … dear God, his tongue. His fingers. All of them relentless. Teasing, licking, flicking, delving, driving her mad. Helpless to do otherwise, she undulated against his mouth, desperately seeking more of the addictive pleasure. Her hands fisted against the carpet, her body tightening, coiling, straining, searching for an answer that remained just out of reach.

  Then he performed some sort of magic with his fingers and mouth, and it was as if she'd been tossed into a storm of indescribable pleasure. An endless moan she couldn't contain escaped her as pulsing sensation engulfed her. When the spasms subsided, she lay gasping, boneless, dazed, her breaths coming in short, ragged puffs. Dear God, now she knew precisely what a few swipes of the tongue could accomplish.

  Magic.

  She felt Gideon gently lower her legs to the rug where they simply splayed open in utter, lax abandon. Felt him shift to lean over her, then his warm hand cupping her face. The pad of his thumb slowly brushing over her bottom lip.

  "Julianne."

  Her name breezed across her face, and with an effort she dragged her heavy eyelids open. And found herself staring into dark, intense eyes that seemed to reach inside and touch her soul.

  She raised an unsteady hand and brushed back the dark lock of hair that fell across his furrowed brow. And murmured the word that had haunted her every thought for the past two months. "Gideon."

  "Are you … all right?"

  "I'm … I don't quite know how to describe it." She traced her fingers over the stark panes of his face, marveling even more at the fact that she could touch him so freely than at the extraordinary way he'd made her feel. "Utterly limp, but in the most delightful way."

  "I didn't hurt you?"

  "No." Worry suffused her. "Did I hurt you?"

  A whiff of amusement entered his eyes. Leaning down, he brushed his mouth over hers. "No. You were…" He lifted his head, and his gaze drifted slowly over her. When his eyes met hers once more all traces of humor were gone. "Perfect," he whispered. "You were perfect. But—"

  She laid her fingers on his lips, halting his words. "Please don't say you're sorry this happened. Because I'm not."

  He lightly grasped her wrist and after pressing a quick kiss to her palm, moved her hand away. "Very well, I won't say I'm sorry. But that doesn't change the fact that it shouldn't have happened."

  He abruptly sat up. Without ceremony he reached out and tugged up her bodice over her breasts that felt swollen and sensitive. Once she was covered, he stood then helped her do the same. She felt slightly unsteady on her feet and grasped the mantel for support.

  Frowning, he bent down and scooped up her ripped drawers along with a handful of hairpins then shook his head. Muttered something that sounded very much like, What the bloody hell was I thinking? and raked his free hand through his hair. "We need to set you back to rights," he said in a low, urgent tone. "Now. Before anyone comes—"

  A low woof from the doorway chopped off his words. They both turned. Caesar was on his feet, staring intently down the corridor. Princess Buttercup stood beside him, giving her best imitation of a fierce growl. Above the canine noise Julianne heard the unmistakable sound of her mother's imperious voice.

  "…cannot credit that such a disturbance occurred, Winslow."

  "You should have sent for us immediately." Her father's icy words followed by his heavy footfalls crossing the foyer's marble floor sent her stomach careening toward her shoes.

  In the blink of an eye Gideon shoved her ruined drawers inside his shirt, then plucked her up and set her on the settee where she landed with a bounce.

  He tossed the hairpins onto her lap. "Shove those into your hair," he commanded in a low, taut voice. "Doesn't matter if it's messy."

  Trying not to panic, she scooped up her tangled curls and stabbed in pins while he snatched up his waistcoat. He jabbed his arms through the openings and buttoned it with a steady-fingered dexterity she couldn't help but admire, especially as she was shaking all over.

  As he shrugged into his jacket, he ordered, "Swoon. And be damn convincing about it."

  Swoon? Why, she'd never swooned in her life! But one look at his tight expression had her understanding his command. She nodded and quickly arranged herself on the settee.

  Peeking one eye open, she watched him stride across the room and lay a hand on Caesar, who stopped growling at his master's touch.

  "Winslow, fetch some hartshorn," Gideon cal
led, his voice filled with urgency as he ran into the corridor. "Quickly! Lady Julianne has fainted. Ah, Lady Gatesbourne, how fortunate you're here. I'm afraid I've little experience in these matters."

  Rapid footsteps approached. Julianne heard her mother gasp and her father mutter, "Ridiculous, foolish gel."

  Seconds later Julianne's mother patted her cheeks in a none-too-gentle manner. "What happened?" her mother asked in a sharp voice. "Winslow told us in the foyer what occurred this evening but said Julianne seemed quite recovered."

  "She did," Gideon said. "We were drinking tea, and all seemed well, but when we began discussing the evening's events, she became agitated. Said something about feeling utterly limp, then just like that"—he snapped his fingers—"she went down like a tenpin. I tried to revive her, but she didn't respond. That's when I dashed into the corridor for Winslow."

  Just then Julianne heard a breathless Winslow rush into the room. "Here's the hartshorn, my lady."

  Julianne had managed to remain unresponsive while her mother tapped her face, shook her shoulders, and rubbed her wrists, but one whiff of the powerfully unpleasant hartshorn had her nose twitching in protest. Putting on what she prayed was a convincing performance, she rolled her head from side to side, enough, she prayed, to explain her disheveled coif. Then she groaned and blinked her eyes open.

  "She's come around," her mother said, passing the hartshorn back to Winslow. "Bring some damp cloths and a glass of water," she instructed the butler who instantly departed to do her bidding. Her mother then turned her attention back to Julianne. "Are you all right?"

  Julianne blinked several more times then frowned. "Of course, Mother. How are you?"

  "Very well. However, I am not the one who swooned."

  Julianne widened her eyes. "Swooned? Me?"

  Mother nodded and pursed her lips. "I'm afraid so."

  "Surely not. I never swoon."