SEDUCED AT MIDNIGHT

by Jacquie D'Alessandro

  Both men nodded, then Perdy asked, "W … wot are ye goin' to do with us?" He gave a nervous laugh. "Don't forget—we didn't harm neither of ye."

  Gideon stared down at the two men. Everything inside him wanted to pummel them to bloody pulps for touching Julianne. They might not have hurt her, but they could have. And they'd certainly frightened her. And the bastards had shaved at least a decade off his own life from the scare. If he lived to be one hundred, he'd never forget seeing her being grabbed and pulled from the room.

  "If you'd tried to kill me, I assure you you wouldn't have succeeded," Gideon said coldly. He believed that absolutely, but it irked him that the fact that he was Jack Mayne's son could have in any way saved him. "And if you'd in any way harmed the lady, you'd be dead, regardless. As it is, I'll let the magistrate know where you are. Enjoy your wait until he arrives."

  "Aw, now that ain't no way to treat us after we didn't try to kill ye," Will protested. "Plus, ye took our watch."

  "I could still shoot you in the head, if you'd prefer," Gideon said pleasantly. "In fact—"

  "No, no, that's all right," Perdy broke in. "We'll just stay here. And wait for the magistrate to find us."

  "As you wish." Without another word, he turned. He wanted to get Julianne as far away from here as possible. Ascertain for himself that she was indeed all right. And then he'd find the bastard behind this. And make that bastard very, very sorry.

  He went to Julianne and handed her her slippers. Once she'd donned them, he took her hand and led her swiftly through the maze of crates. A moment later the cool night air struck them, and Gideon drew a deep breath. He paused long enough to look at Julianne. Her hair and clothes were disheveled, her face as pale as wax, and her eyes the size of dinner plates. She still clutched the knife he'd given her as if her very life depended upon it. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms, but he had to get her away from here. Somewhere safe. Where he could get all the details of her ordeal and send off a message to the magistrate. Somewhere he could have a few moments to himself to recover from a terror that all but paralyzed him.

  He took the knife from her and slipped it into his boot. A shiver ran through her, and he yanked off his jacket. "Put this on," he said, helping her slip her arms through the sleeves. "Are you all right? Can you walk?"

  "Of course," she answered, actually looking insulted. "I'm not the delicate princess you think I am."

  If he'd been capable of doing so, he would have smiled at her umbrage. Indeed, she'd proven herself quite the warrior tonight. He grabbed her hand and walked swiftly, dodging in and out of narrow alleys until they emerged on a wider cobbled street. He saw a hack on the corner and immediately hailed the driver. Seconds later they were ensconced inside. He gave the driver his direction and they were on their way.

  Sitting across from her, Gideon reached out and clasped Julianne's shoulders, his gaze searching. "Are you certain you weren't hurt?"

  She swallowed and nodded. "My wrists hurt a bit," she said in a slightly trembling voice. "From the ropes."

  His gaze instantly dropped to her hands. And his fury flared. Her delicate wrists were badly abraded. He snatched his handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and pressed it gently against the raw skin, which seeped blood. The sight of her injuries, the rage it inspired, rendered him momentarily speechless.

  "They said they meant to kill you," she whispered. A look that could only be described as fierce entered her eyes. Indeed, she suddenly looked like an avenging fury. "I wasn't going to let them hurt you."

  Bloody hell. His heart just … melted. "I can see that."

  "They put a hood over my head and stuffed an awful rag in my mouth," she said, the words coming quickly between rapid breaths. "I pretended I'd swooned while I worked on loosening the ropes and spitting out the rag. As soon as the door squeaked, I knew it was you. There were two of them and only one of you, and I was so frightened." She drew in a shaky breath. "I would have shot them, you know. If I'd had to. And, well, if I'd had a pistol. I would have used that knife."

  Unable to stop himself, he raised her hands and gently pressed his lips against her fingers. "You may have been frightened, but you, my darling princess, were absolutely magnificent."

  "I was?"

  "Beyond magnificent. You were brave and determined, courageous and dogged. If I had to choose one word, it would be fierce."

  A bit of color washed into her pale cheeks. She moistened her lips. "I … thank you. I believe that is the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me. I knew you would come for me."

  Gideon nodded, unable to speak around the sudden lump in his throat. He brushed his lips over her scraped wrists and pulled in a deep breath. And almost smiled. Bloody hell, in spite of all she'd been through, the scent of vanilla still clung to her skin. He looked into her eyes and spoke the simple truth. "I never would have stopped looking for you, Julianne."

  Her bottom lip trembled, and tears pooled in her eyes. "I know," she whispered. "Thank you. But about all those nice things you said… most of all, I was just very scared." A tear spilled over to trail down her cheek followed by several more, and a breathy sob escaped her. "I don't feel very fierce or determined now. In fact … oh, dear, I think I'm going to cry."

  The tears overflowed in earnest, and with a groan, Gideon shifted to sit next to her. He pulled her into his arms, and she buried her face against his neck. Feeling utterly helpless, he held her close. Brushed his lips over her soft hair. Whispered words he hoped would soothe her. And with every breath, he fell deeper in love with her. His fiercely brave, terrified princess who escaped her ropes, spat out her gag, screamed to warn him, and would have stabbed anyone who'd tried to hurt him. Bloody hell, she wasn't a princess. She was a … gown-clad warrior.

  After a few minutes her sobs subsided, and he leaned back to dab at her wet eyes with his handkerchief.

  "I've gone through more handkerchiefs with you in the last few days than I normally use in a month," he teased, hoping to coax a smile from her.

  She took it from him and gave her nose a mighty blow. "You might want this one washed before I return it."

  "Keep it. You might need it again."

  "I hope not. I don't want to cry again." Her gaze searched his. "You were marvelously clever. Pretending you had two pistols. And gloriously brave."

  "I'm glad you think so, but I think it only fair to tell you that I was also never so frightened in my entire life." He touched his fingers beneath her chin and lifted her face. "When I saw those men grab you…" He briefly closed his eyes, and a shudder ran through him. "If anything had happened to you—"

  She touched her fingers to his lips. "But it didn't. Because of you."

  He shook his head, dislodging her fingers. "If I'd been closer to you, they wouldn't have been able to grab you in the first place. Why were you standing there all alone? Why didn't you walk to the punch bowl with you friends?"

  "The duke told me to wait there. He was going to fetch a diamond ring from the ducal collection then come back and announce our engagement. Instead it appeared he discovered he'd been robbed." She offered him a tremulous smile. "And you saved my life."

  Damn it, the way she was looking at him, as if he were a hero, half shamed him because he hadn't kept her from being snatched, and half made him feel so bloody good he couldn't speak. His gaze dropped to her lips, and a groan rose in his throat. There were reasons, so many reasons, not to kiss her, but God help him, he couldn't think of even one of them.

  He leaned toward her. Her lips parted. And the hack jerked to a halt.

  Julianne blinked then looked out the window. "Where are we?"

  "Somewhere safe." He alighted then assisted her. After paying the driver, he said, "There's an extra bob in it for you if you'll deliver a message for me. Wait here. I'll be right back."

  The driver agreed, and Gideon escorted Julianne up the short walkway. A moment later they entered a small foyer. Julianne's eyes widened. "Is this your home?"

&n
bsp; "Yes." He tried his best to sound casual and shove aside the knowledge that it was sorely lacking in comparison to the mansion in which she lived. "It's safe and was closer than Grosvenor Square

  . Come."

  He led her to his study and quickly lit the lamp on his desk. "Please sit down and make yourself comfortable. I need to write a quick note to the magistrate." He completed his task, sealed the note with wax, then wrote the direction on the outside. The entire time he was aware of Julianne looking around the room. When he finished, he excused himself to give the note to the hackney. He then gathered some cloths, bandages, salve, and a bowl of water. Before reentering the study, he paused in the doorway. Julianne stood before the unlit fireplace, lightly trailing her fingers along the mantel.

  The sight of her in his home did something to his insides. Filled them with a sensation he'd never experienced before. By virtue of her aristocratic birth she shouldn't look right here, yet somehow, in the soft light of the single lamp he'd lit, she appeared as if she belonged precisely where she was. Standing before his hearth. Touching his mantel clock, whose ticking was the only sound in the room.

  She must have sensed his presence, because she turned. Their eyes met, and he felt as if he'd been punched in the heart. How he was going to get her out of here without breaking his vow to himself, he didn't know. He wasn't even sure if he cared anymore.

  Pushing off from the doorway, he slowly approached her. "I want to clean and treat your wounds then bandage your wrists."

  "All right." She sat on the sofa, and after setting down his supplies, he retrieved the lamp from his desk and settled himself next to her.

  "I didn't know you lived in a house," she said as he gently washed her raw skin with a dampened cloth.

  When she winced, his jaw clenched with suppressed fury at the bastards who had tied her. "Oh? You thought I lived in a cave?"

  She gave a short laugh. "No. I imagined you in bachelor's rooms."

  "I bought the house several years ago. We never had one when I was a child, and I wanted somewhere permanent. A place to call home. Somewhere that was … mine." He applied the salve, forcing his gaze to remain on his task, fearing that if he looked into her eyes, he would be lost.

  "Those men mentioned a Jack Mayne," she said softly. "They said he was your father. And that he'd helped them. Is your father a … philanthropist?"

  A humorless sound escaped Gideon. "Not exactly." Although based on what Will and Perdy had said, there was clearly more to Jack Mayne than Gideon knew.

  "Your parents," Julianne said, her voice filled with hesitancy. "Are they anything like mine?"

  "An earl and a countess? Hardly."

  "No. I meant were they … good to you?"

  An image of Jack Mayne materialized in Gideon's mind's eye, kneeling down so he was on eye level with his young son. Just slip yor fingers into the bloke's coat pocket, light and easy, and bring me back wot's in there. Then of his mother, thin, pale, her coughing worsening until every breath became a struggle and rattle in her lungs—

  He blinked away the image and shrugged. "I wasn't beaten or abused, if that's what you mean. My mother died when I was fourteen. She'd been sick for a long time."

  "You loved her very much."

  Her death was an ache that had softened with time but one he knew would never completely fade. "Very much. And like you, I am a great disappointment to my father."

  "How could any father be disappointed in such a fine son?"

  "How could any father be disappointed in such a fine daughter?"

  "Because she wasn't a son. Why was your father disappointed?"

  He hesitated then said, "I chose the army and Bow Street

  rather than follow in his footsteps."

  "But surely there is nothing nobler than fighting for your country and upholding the law. What was his trade?"

  Gideon debated not telling her then inwardly shrugged. They were Jack's sins, not his. "Pickpocket. Petty thief. He was also very good picking locks."

  He felt her start of surprise. "Your father was a … thief?"

  "Yes." As far as Gideon knew, Jack still was one. "He's never quite forgiven me for joining what he calls the wrong side of the law, and I've never quite forgiven him for … well, many things." Mostly the pain Jack's countless infidelities had caused Gideon's mother.

  "Based on what Perdy and Will said about your father, about him helping them and others, perhaps he's changed his ways."

  "If he's given anyone anything, I doubt he obtained it through legal means."

  "It shows a great strength of character that, given your upbringing, you didn't fall into a life of crime."

  There was no missing the admiration in her voice, and he risked looking up from his bandaging task. That same admiration was shining in her eyes, and he quickly looked down again. Because he knew what he said next would erase it. "I did fall into it." The words felt rusty on his tongue, as he'd never admitted them to anyone before. "For a time. When I was too young to make my own decisions."

  "But you changed," she whispered.

  "Yes. I wanted to become someone who I could look at in the mirror and not cringe."

  "And have you become that person?"

  He pondered, then said, "I like to think so."

  "Would it make any difference if I told you that I think you're wonderful? Extraordinary?"

  Bloody hell, it made a huge difference. No matter how much he didn't want it to, it did. "Thank you. But you don't know me very well."

  "I disagree."

  "Which doesn't surprise me. We're very different and don't agree on very much."

  "Again, I must disagree. I think we're actually very much alike. Where it really matters. In our hearts."

  He pressed his lips together to keep from replying. To keep from revealing what was in his heart. If she had any idea how badly he wanted to tell the entire world and all its dictates and rules that conspired to keep them apart to go to hell, how much he wanted to selfishly steal her away from her rarified world and make her his, she'd run screaming from the room. As well she should.

  Instead he said, "If by saying we're alike you mean that you are extraordinary, then I agree. You are." And he was going to miss her every day of his life once she was gone. He tied off the second bandage and said, "I'm sorry this happened to you."

  "I'm not."

  His head jerked up at that. And this time he found himself imprisoned by those eyes, unable to look away. "Why do you say that?"

  She offered him a small smile. "Because if it hadn't, I never would have seen your home." She rose and held out her hands. "Will you show me the rest of it?"

  Gideon hesitated. Not because he was embarrassed of his house. In fact, he'd worked hard to purchase it and was very proud of it. Obviously it didn't compare to what she was accustomed to, but then not much could compare to the Gatesbourne mansion on Grosvenor Square

  . No, this was a matter of survival. His home was his sanctuary. Already he knew he'd think of her from now on every time he entered his study. Would see her standing before his fireplace. Sitting on his sofa. If he showed her the rest of the house, she'd live in all those rooms as well. Rooms she'd never visit again but where her presence would continue to haunt him long after she left. The best thing to do, the smart thing to do, would be to take her home. Immediately.

  Instead he rose. And took her hand. And showed her his house.

  "It's delightful," she said, walking around the dining room then the sitting room. "Cozy, warm, and charming."

  "I'm not much of a decorator, I'm afraid."

  "I think it's better to have only a few very meaningful things than many items that are decorative but hold no sentimental value."

  They continued to the small drawing room, the kitchen, and pantry, then through three empty bedchambers. She remained silent, and he wondered what she was thinking. When they came to the last room, he said, "My bedchamber." She entered the room without a word and walked slowly around, trailing her f
ingers over his dark blue counterpane and cherrywood furniture. He stood just inside the doorway, taking slow, careful breaths while his heart beat hard and fast and his entire body ached with love and desire and so damn much want he thought he would burst. He never should have brought her here. Because now that she was here, he never wanted to let her go.

  After she'd walked around the entire room, she came to stand directly in front of him. And looked at him through solemn eyes. "Do you want to know what I think of your home, Gideon?"

  "If you care to tell me."

  "I think it is the loveliest house I've ever been in. It is cozy and delightful and a real home. It is the perfect reflection of its owner in that it is wonderful. In every way."

  Bloody hell. How was he to answer that? He couldn't even find his damn voice.

  "Do you know what I want, Gideon?"

  No, he didn't. But he damn well knew what he wanted. And he could sum it up in one word: Julianne. In his arms. In his bed. Under him. Over him. Surrounding him. And all the reasons he couldn't have it were fleeing at an alarming rate. Still unable to locate his voice, he shook his head.

  "I want to seduce you."

  Chapter 22

  I want to seduce you. Five little words. That's all it took to melt what was left of Gideon's resistance. He couldn't have her forever. But he could have her for right now. He needed to return her to her family. But not just yet. He tried to live his life with honor, but with this woman he knew, irrevocably, that love was stronger than honor.

  He had to swallow twice to find his voice. "I don't think you'll find that a difficult task to accomplish."

  "I hope not. Because I'm not quite certain how to go about it." She stepped closer, until only inches separated them. Then she rested her hands against his chest. And with that single touch, all that remained of his good intentions disintegrated to dust.

  "Done," he whispered, pulling her into his arms. "I'm seduced."

  He covered her mouth with his, and every rational thought fled. Julianne, Julianne… Her name pounded through his head, matching the rhythm of his heart, which surely beat hard enough to bruise his ribs. The delicious taste of her filled his mouth, and he pulled her tighter against him, plunging impatient fingers into her soft hair, wanting to touch, taste, everything at once, ravenous for her. A bit of common sense broke through the haze of need consuming him, warning him to slow down. Reminding him she was a virgin. That he should savor. Seduce. Slowly. But it was damned difficult to do when she was yanking at his shirt and squirming against him.