SEDUCED AT MIDNIGHT

by Jacquie D'Alessandro

  With a groan he broke off their kiss, then dragged his mouth down the length of her neck. Her head dropped back, and he traced her pulse with his tongue as he slowly eased her gown from her shoulders. Down her arms, then over her hips. It pooled at her feet, leaving her clad only in her chemise and stockings.

  "Don't move," he said softly, then walked toward the bed.

  "What are you doing?"

  For an answer he struck a match and lit the lamp on his bedside table. "Giving us some light." He rejoined her and sifted his fingers through her hair. "I want to see you. All of you."

  "And I want to see all of you. Right now."

  Gideon smiled. "I like this impatience of yours. It nearly matches mine."

  "Humph. You don't seem the least bit impatient."

  "Only because I'm trying my damnedest to make this last more than fifteen seconds." His gaze swept over her chemise, and he groaned. The material was so fine he could see her coral nipples. "If it makes you feel any better, the effort is nearly killing me."

  He slipped his fingers beneath the straps of the flimsy chemise and slowly slid the material downward, his gaze devouring each bit of creamy skin as it was revealed. When the garment slid off her hips to join her gown, he took her hands and helped her step from the mound of material.

  Wearing nothing but her stockings, shoes, and a furious blush, she was … "The most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he whispered. He reached out and circled her breasts, brushing his thumbs over her tight nipples. "The softest thing I've ever touched." He leaned down and drew one taut nipple deep into his mouth, absorbing her gasp, loving the feel of her hands in his hair, the way she arched her back, offering more of herself.

  He kissed his way to her other breast, whispering, "The most delicious thing I've ever tasted." While his lips and tongue and mouth explored her breasts, his hands skimmed the length of her smooth back, the luscious curve of her hips and buttocks.

  "Gideon…" She wriggled against him then fisted her hands in his hair. "This is exceedingly unfair."

  "What?" he asked, lazily circling her nipple with his tongue.

  She yanked on his hair until he raised his head. "I am naked."

  He skimmed his hand down her torso and tangled his fingers in the golden curls at the juncture of her thighs. "Not exactly." He crouched down and removed her shoes, then leisurely rolled off each stocking. Then he stood, slowly dragging his hands up her body. "Now you are naked. And there is nothing unfair about it."

  "Except the fact that you are fully clothed. A problem I would like solved immediately."

  "Has anyone ever told you that you're very demanding?"

  "Has anyone ever told you that you're infuriatingly slow?"

  "My clothing can be removed in less than thirty seconds," he said, reaching for his waistcoat.

  She stayed his hands with her own. "Oh, no. You undressed me. I want to undress you."

  "Very well." He spread his arms. "Be my guest."

  Satisfaction, mixed with a hint of uncertainty, flared in her eyes, and she set about working on the buttons of his waistcoat. He watched her, her brow furrowed with concentration, and the wave of love that washed through him nearly drowned him. Unable to keep from touching her, he slowly combed his hands through her silky hair.

  "You're distracting me," she said, glancing up at him.

  "Would you like some help?"

  She shook her head. "I want to do it."

  "What happened to your impatience?" he teased.

  She looked up again, this time her gaze serious. "It's still there. But I want to savor this. Remember every moment. Every touch."

  And just like that, she managed to cut him off at the knees. He remained still, in an agony of anticipation as she finally slid his waistcoat off his shoulders. Drew his shirt from his breeches. He helped her pull the shirt over his head, then fought to remain still as she ran her hands over his shoulders, chest, and abdomen. Everywhere she touched felt as if fire burned beneath his skin.

  She stepped forward and pressed her lips against the center of his chest, dragging a deep moan of pleasure from him. When she kissed her way across his skin to circle his nipple with her tongue, his head dropped back, and he groaned. Bloody hell, he didn't know how much of this he was going to be able to take.

  "You like that?" she asked, flicking her tongue over him again.

  "Yes. God, yes. If you expect conversation…" His words turned into a moan when she drew his nipple into the heat of her mouth.

  "If I expect conversation … what?" she whispered, her fingers tracing the sensitive skin just above his breeches.

  A heated shiver raced through him. He spoke the only word he could manage. "Huh?"

  A delighted sound came from her. "Hmmm. I believe I detect a crack in the marblelike exterior. Indeed, I think the granite has a pulse. Interesting."

  Bloody hell. Using his own brand of comparisons against him. If he'd been able to speak coherently, he surely would have told her how annoying that was. Perhaps he would have tried anyway, but just then she pressed her palm against his erection. He sucked in a sharp breath, one he released with a low groan as he thrust helplessly into her hand.

  "I want these breeches off, Gideon."

  Thank God. Without an instant's hesitation, he stepped to the bed and sat to jerk off his boots. He would have wagered that no man in history had ever removed his breeches faster. After he'd tossed them aside, he stood.

  She reached out and brushed her fingers over his jutting arousal. Clearly encouraged by the low growl of approval that vibrated in his throat, she stroked the length of him, tentatively at first but then with growing confidence as his breathing turned choppy and erratic. When she wrapped her fingers around him and lightly squeezed, he knew he was done.

  "Can't take any more," he managed in a hoarse whisper, gently grabbing her hand. Bending his knees, he scooped her into his arms and laid her across the bed. He ran his hands up her smooth legs, urging her thighs apart. Golden curls surrounded her glistening sex, her folds wet and swollen, a sight that literally brought him to his knees. Dropping down at the edge of the bed, he pulled her toward him. Draped her thighs over his shoulders. Slipped his hands beneath her. And lifted her to his mouth.

  Her groan of pleasure filled the room, echoing through his head. He'd never expected to be able to touch her like this again, and he savored every second, determined to bring her as much pleasure as he could. Circling and teasing, licking and thrusting, tasting, delving, he pushed her until she cried out with her climax.

  When her tremors subsided, he kissed his way up her torso. Explored the indent of her navel. Discovered a trio of tiny birthmarks dotting her stomach. Nuzzled her soft breasts. Laved their taut peaks.

  Shifting her higher on the bed, so her head rested on his pillow, he settled himself between her thighs. She looked up at him through eyes hazy with arousal and framed his face between her hands. "Again," she whispered. "I want to feel that magic again."

  Propping his weight on his forearms, he brushed the head of his erection along her wet folds and prayed he'd last long enough to grant her request. Unable to wait any longer, he eased inside her. When he reached the barrier of her maidenhead, he paused, then thrust.

  A startled cry escaped her, and he gritted his teeth, determined not to move. But bloody hell, it was nearly an impossible task. She was so tight and he was so hard… he released a shuddering breath. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, praying he hadn't.

  She shook her head. "No. I was just… surprised. I feel… filled. With you." She pressed her pelvis into his, and her eyes drifted closed. "It is … delightful. Incredible. Delicious. Extraordinary. I cannot possibly choose just one word."

  Bloody hell, he couldn't even think of one word. He slowly withdrew, nearly all the way, before sinking deep inside her again, his breath a hiss of pleasure at the hot, slick friction. Another leisurely withdrawal, followed by a slow, deep thrust, again, and again, his muscles straining with the effort of
holding back. She writhed beneath him, her movements awkward at first, but then she caught his rhythm.

  "Open your eyes, Julianne."

  Her lids blinked open, and her blue depths pulled at his soul. "Wrap your legs around me," he ground out. She did as he bade and he thrust deeper. Harder. Faster. She moaned his name and arched beneath him, her inner walls pulsing around him, and he clenched his jaw against the intense pleasure. With an effort that nearly killed him, he withdrew and gathered her into his arms, pressing his erection tightly between them. Burying his head in the fragrant space where her neck and shoulder met, he let his release roar through him, groaning her name over and over, like a prayer.

  For a long moment he simply lay there, breathing her in, catching his breath. Then he raised his head and stilled. At the sight of Julianne, her hair spread about her like a golden halo, her lips parted and swollen from his kiss, her eyes heavy-lidded with the look of a woman well loved. Which is exactly what she was. Well loved. With everything he had. His heart. His soul. And it killed him that through no fault of either of them, that simply by accidents of birth, that wasn't enough.

  He cupped her cheek in his hand and brushed his thumb over her plump lower lip. Then he lowered his head and kissed her.

  "Gideon…" she breathed against his mouth.

  He lifted his head. "Julianne."

  "That was … you are…" She breathed out a long hum of pleasure. "Oh, my."

  "Yes, it was. And yes, you are."

  And now it was over. He had to take her back. To her world. To her family.

  And her fiancé.

  She reached up and brushed his hair from his forehead. Then looked at him through very serious eyes. "How?" she whispered. "How am I going to live the rest of my life without knowing this again?"

  A lump swelled his throat. Christ. Now he knew what it felt like to die inside. "I wish I had the answer. Because I need to know it as well."

  Only there was no answer. Just his life stretching out before him. A life that didn't include Julianne.

  * * *

  When the hack pulled up in front of the duke's town house, Julianne had to force herself to exit the vehicle. Lights blazed from every window, and based on the shadows moving past the panes of glass, it was clear the house was still crowded. She didn't want to leave the intimate interior where Gideon had held her hand during the entire ride. Where his leg had rested against hers and he'd pressed his lips against hers in a kiss that had tasted unmistakably of good-bye.

  But in her heart she'd resolved that it wasn't good-bye. Not yet. He would still be in her house for two more days. Two more nights. And she intended to see to it that they spent as many hours together during that time as possible.

  Gideon had just helped her alight when the front door opened. Standing in the foyer were her father and a man she recognized as Charles Rayburn, the magistrate, whom she'd met two months ago when he and Gideon were investigating the last spree of crimes plaguing Mayfair.

  Mr. Rayburn hurried down the steps, followed by Julianne's father. "What in God's name—" began her father, but Gideon cut him off, saying tersely, "Lady Julianne was kidnapped from the party." He gave a quick description of her ordeal, leaving out, she noticed, any mention of Jack Mayne and the kidnappers' plan to kill Gideon himself. He concluded his story with, "I sent a message to your office, Rayburn, giving you the kidnappers' location."

  Mr. Rayburn nodded. "Simon Atwater is here. I'll send him to see to them." He turned to Julianne. "A harrowing ordeal to be sure, Lady Julianne. I'm relieved you're all right. Let's get you inside. There are a lot of worried people in there."

  Julianne's father, who until now had remained silent, said to Gideon, in a low, furious voice, "You were supposed to keep my daughter safe, Mayne."

  "I am safe, Father," Julianne said quickly. "Thanks to Mr. Mayne. He saved my life. No one else even realized I'd been kidnapped."

  Her father's gaze never left Gideon. "If you'd been doing your job properly, the kidnappers never would have touched my daughter."

  "You're right," Gideon said. "I accept full responsibility."

  "Nonsense," Julianne protested. "There was complete pandemonium when the duke made the announcement he'd been robbed—"

  "Which only further proves his incompetence," her father stated coldly. He narrowed his eyes at Gideon. "Kidnappers and thieves running amok, and you did nothing."

  "He rescued me," Julianne said tightly. "Or do you consider that nothing, Father?"

  "Please, let us go inside," Mr. Rayburn said, gently taking Julianne's arm. She wanted to shake him off, scream at all of them that she didn't want to go inside. That she wanted to leave. Now. With Gideon.

  But instead, she allowed herself to be led up the path into the house. The duke strode into the foyer, his normally dispassionate features filling with obvious relief at the sight of her. "Julianne, my dear." He clasped her hands and raised them to his lips. "I was so afraid—"

  His words cut off, and he seemed to freeze in place when he looked beyond her. She glanced over her shoulder and realized he was staring at Gideon.

  "Mr. Mayne rescued me," she said quickly, before the duke could blame Gideon for her ordeal as her father had.

  "That's right, Your Grace," agreed Mr. Rayburn who quickly repeated the kidnapping story Gideon had related. When he finished, the duke kissed her hand then murmured, "Thank God you're all right. We must get you home—"

  "I want to see Sarah, Emily, and Carolyn first," Julianne said, surreptitiously wiping the back of her hand against her gown to rid herself of his touch. "If they're still here."

  A muscle ticked in the duke's jaw. "They are. But so are many of the other guests…" His gaze raked over her. "And you're looking rather worse for your ordeal, my dear. Wouldn't you rather—"

  "No, I wouldn't. I want to see them. Now, if you please."

  The duke clearly wasn't pleased, but he acquiesced. "As you wish."

  As they filed down the corridor, Julianne asked Mr. Rayburn, "Did you capture the robber or recover His Grace's jewels?"

  "I'm afraid not. I've been interviewing the guests one at a time, which is why so many are still here. Of course, many also remained out of concern for you, hoping for news."

  When they entered the drawing room, the hum of conversation stopped for several seconds, then voices exploded, and Julianne found herself surrounded by a sea of faces. Mr. Rayburn held up his hands and demanded silence then once again repeated the story of her ordeal. When he finished, Julianne was engulfed in hugs and well wishes and bombarded with sympathy and questions, while Gideon was congratulated for his quick action. Julianne's mother kissed her on both cheeks, told her she was very grateful she hadn't been hurt, then told her they should leave as soon as possible as she looked a complete fright.

  Sarah, Emily, and Carolyn all hugged and kissed her.

  "I swear I paced a hole in the duke's hearth rug," Emily said, giving her nose an unladylike blow.

  "How dare you frighten a pregnant woman that way," Sarah scolded, pulling off her spectacles to dab at her teary eyes.

  "I thought Daniel was going to nail my slippers to the floor to keep me from ruining whatever part of the carpet Emily left intact," Carolyn said, wiping her eyes with a lace hankie. "Are you certain you're all right?"

  No, I'm not all right. For a brief, perfect, shining moment, in Gideon's arms, she had been. And she greatly feared she'd never know such happiness again. She mustered up a smile, hoping to erase her friends' troubled expressions. "I'm fine."

  "Mr. Mayne was incredibly brave," Sarah said. She squeezed Julianne's hand. "We owe him a debt that can never be repaid."

  A lump clogged Julianne's throat, and to her mortification, tears filled her eyes. Carolyn saw her distress and quickly led her to a nearby quiet sitting room that afforded them privacy but from where they could still be seen. After they settled themselves on overstuffed chairs, Julianne said, "Actually, there is more to the kidnapping story than you've hear
d." She proceeded to tell them the rest, only leaving out any mention of Jack Mayne.

  When she finished, all three women looked at her with round eyes. "Heavens, Julianne," Carolyn said. "You were simply marvelous!"

  "Incredibly brave," added Sarah.

  "I was scared witless," Julianne corrected.

  "I would have swooned on the spot," Emily decreed.

  "You?" Julianne laughed. "You would have given those kidnappers an ear blistering so severe they would have promptly returned you and begged your pardon for disturbing your evening."

  "I'm sure Mr. Mayne was impressed with your bravery," Sarah said.

  Julianne felt a blush warm her cheeks. "He said he was. However, most likely he was merely grateful not to have a swooning female on his hands."

  Emily looked at Julianne's wrist then frowned. "That looks like a bandage showing above your glove."

  More heat flooded Julianne's face. "Mr. Mayne did that. My skin was chafed from the ropes."

  Emily's brows shot upward. "He just happened to have some bandages with him?"

  Julianne tried to think of a plausible excuse but realized nothing but the truth would do. "No. We made a stop on our way back here. At Mr. Mayne's house. He bandaged me there."

  "You went to his house?" Emily's voice dropped to a whisper. "Alone?"

  "Of course alone," Sarah broke in impatiently. "Did you expect them to bring the kidnappers along?" She turned to Julianne. "What is his home like?"

  "It's … lovely. Cozy, neat. Just … perfect."

  "I'm glad he had the knowledge to tend to your wounds," Carolyn said.

  "Don't tell your mother that part of the story," Emily warned. "She'll fly into the boughs."