The prince of pleasure n-5

by Nicole Jordan

  Remembering, Julienne felt an aching rush in her chest, as if her heart were bleeding. She had forced herself to go on because her mother needed her. In sheer self-preservation, though, she had escaped into a role she had created for herself-a worldly, sophisticated actress who bore misfortune by laughing in the teeth of fate. And in so doing, she'd discovered reserves of strength she never knew she possessed.

  After her mother died, she was thankfully no longer forced to sell herself to raise desperately needed funds. Yet sometimes she couldn't help feeling bitterness for having been condemned to a harsh life with little chance for a respectable future.

  Fighting back scalding tears, Julienne rolled over to stare up at the ceiling overhead. She might likely never have the things many women took for granted- husband, home, children… love. Certainly she would never feel for anyone else the same ardor she had felt for Dare. The desire she still felt for him.

  She had tried once. Two years after her mother's death she had taken a lover on her own terms-another actor. His sweet passion had satisfied her physically, but he had never aroused in her the kind of hot, intense, overwhelming hunger she'd known with Dare. And the intimacy was missing. She had hungered for the emotional closeness that went beyond sex, the tender fulfillment that transcended the corporeal.

  She had eventually broken off the affair, unwilling to settle for less. Carnal love, she had discovered, couldn't relieve true loneliness of the soul or quench the need for real love, and she would no longer attempt to manufacture a substitute.

  She had kept her heart and her bed empty ever since, and even found a measure of peace with her decision. Yet she had sworn that never again would she be compelled to endure a protector. That was why she was so determined to earn a substantial income from her acting: so she would never have to prostitute herself again. So she could have the independence that only wealth could provide. With enough money she would be free to make her own choices.

  But now Dare had offered to pay her to whore for him. Pain lashed at her again at the memory.

  Fiercely Julienne dashed away the streaks of wetness on her cheeks, reminding herself that Dare was nothing more than a self-serving, licentious rakehell. And in one respect, she was glad he had made his hurtful suggestion, for it helped her renew her resolve.

  She intended to win their damned wager. If it took her last breath, she would have his heart on a platter.

  Dare was so certain he would conquer her, but she would show him otherwise. If he wanted a war of wills, she would give him one.

  She had to, simply to protect herself. She would summon all her powers of seduction to gain mastery over him… She would wait until he declared his love publicly and handed her the victory. Then she would crush his heart beneath her heel without a qualm.

  Only then would their hurtful charade come to an end and she could put Dare out of her life forever.

  She would finally be free of him. And that was what she desperately wanted.

  Wasn't it?

  Chapter Eight

  Dare had never known such frustration. He'd returned to London three days ago, after his house party ended, not only lacking any further clues to Caliban's identity but having come no closer to winning his wager with Julienne. And game or no game, he wanted her in his bed.

  Getting her there willingly, though, was proving an exercise in futility. Indeed, he'd clearly suffered a setback by suggesting that Julienne use her charms to ferret out Riddingham's secrets.

  He hadn't intended to make such a misstep, but his possessive male instincts had interfered with his rational mind. Julienne had accused him of being jealous, and he was. Intensely so. His blood had boiled that day on the cliffs as he watched Riddingham entice a husky ripple of laughter from her. The tender scene had inflamed him, rousing bitter memories of seven years ago-of discovering Julienne and Ivers together, of learning they were lovers.

  Momentarily blinded by rage, Dare found himself lashing out at her, offering her a financial incentive that most actresses would have been pleased to accept. Not Julienne, however. She had seemed taken aback and even offended by his proposition.

  His relief at her refusal was overwhelming. He didn't want Riddingham or any other man touching her. And Dare knew he could never have forgiven himself if his reckless resentment had driven her into his rival's arms.

  He couldn't deny, either, his vast feeling of relief that Julienne hadn't warned Riddingham of his investigation. Her forbearance didn't totally prove her innocence, of course, but it was looking less and less likely that she was the accomplice of a traitor.

  After he'd proposed the viscount's seduction, the change in her had been noticeable. Since their return to London, Dare had kept up the steady crusade of his public wooing of Julienne-at the theater, during another of Madame Brogard's afternoon salons, as a member of a party that escorted Julienne to the British Museum to view an exhibit. But whereas before Dare had detected a hint of vulnerability, of softness, in her dark eyes whenever she was with him, now she was as cool and calculating as any courtesan.

  When he'd handed her a bank draft for one thousand pounds-her earnings for attending his house party-she had tucked it in her bosom with a faintly brittle, beguiling smile that had given him an immediate arousal.

  He'd never seen this side of her, never seen her behavior so deliberately, wantonly provocative. Julienne had flirted and teased him unmercifully while holding him at arm's length.

  It was driving him wild.

  He had only himself to blame, Dare knew. The Jewel had become the fashion among the fast set, in part because of his pursuit. He found it difficult to infiltrate her usual entourage long enough even to speak to her.

  Thus, when he managed to persuade her to take a drive in the park with him the following afternoon, Dare felt as if he had scored a major victory.

  He called on Julienne at her lodgings on Montague Street, but she kept him waiting for nearly twenty minutes before finally deigning to appear-another deliberate provocation, he didn't doubt.

  His pulse quickened at the sight of her, she looked so fresh and lovely. Her carriage dress of pale yellow muslin and leaf green spencer were reminiscent of spring, though the April day was cool and overcast.

  "Miss Laurent, you leave me breathless," he said as he handed her into his curricle.

  She gave him an alluring smile. "That is certainly my intent, my lord."

  "I thought we were beyond such formal terms of address. My name is Dare."

  "I would never presume to be so familiar," she replied, lightly mocking.

  Belying her words, however, she let her sensual gaze travel down his chest to his stomach, lingering on his groin. Dare felt as though she'd run her hand over him. All the muscles in his body tightened at the heat aroused by her mere glance.

  He wasn't certain, Dare reflected as he took the seat beside her, that he liked this new, seductive Jewel, and not simply because it put him on the defensive. Her amiability somehow struck a false note that set his teeth on edge. He had the distinct feeling that he was dealing with an angry female-and that her anger wouldn't be easily placated.

  Julienne would have agreed, had she been privy to Dare's thoughts. She was more determined than ever to make him surrender the heart he claimed she had broken. Yet she wasn't as sanguine as she appeared. Dare's touch, when he'd handed her up, had left her fingers tingling beneath her glove. And when he settled next to her, she could feel his hard thigh press against hers through their layers of clothing.

  To her further dismay, when he leaned forward to gather the reins, his arm brushed her breast, making her nipples tighten instantly. And the knowing gleam in his eyes told her clearly that his intimacy was intentional.

  She refused, however, to let him win. She refused to be the kind of witless female who melted helplessly in his arms. As Dare set the curricle in motion, Julienne gave him back some of his own; she placed her gloved hand on his thigh as if for balance.

  When his breath hissed th
rough his teeth, she had to smother a gratified smile.

  "If you don't want me to turn this vehicle around," he observed pleasantly, "and carry you up to your rooms to ravish you for the remainder of the afternoon, I suggest you remove your hand from my leg immediately."

  Julienne complied, but she arched an eyebrow. "You think I would permit such an act of barbarism when I have no intention of allowing you even to kiss me again?"

  He sent her an amused glance. "My apologies if I don't take your illusions too seriously. There's no doubt in my mind that I will make love to you again. And when I do, you will be more than willing-you'll be begging for it."

  His arrogance made Julienne itch to take him down a peg. "I should think you would be aware by now of the danger in becoming my paramour. What if you were to truly fall in love with me?"

  Dare had no witty retort for that. Instead he frowned and concentrated on his driving.

  It was only midafternoon when they arrived at the park-Julienne had been unable to go later with a theater performance scheduled this evening-but the Row was already crowded with riders and carriages of every kind. Furthermore, Julienne discovered, they were the sole focus of countless pairs of eyes.

  All London was watching their mating dance, it seemed.

  "It amazes me," Julienne said, pasting a smile on her face to cover her exasperation, "how your ridiculous wager has created such a rabid interest in our affairs. It has grown to the point of absurdity."

  "But the ton loves a spectacle," Dare replied. "Particularly a battle between worthy opponents. And we are well matched, I would say-the dazzling actress and the notorious rakehell. Although for now the betting books are giving me the edge."

  Fortunately she didn't have to think of a retort, for she was hailed by one of her admirers.

  They progressed at a snail's pace, since they both were continually greeted by acquaintances. A short while later, she heard Dare curse under his breath as they came across Riddingham driving a curricle.

  The viscount looked just as displeased to see them together as he drew to a halt. After the initial pleasantries, Riddingham ignored Dare and addressed Julienne. "I hope you will permit me to take you for a drive tomorrow, Miss Laurent. We can try out my new pair." He nodded toward his horses, matched bays that looked fresh and impatient to be held standing.

  "They are very handsome," Julienne said truthfully.

  "They are a handful, but exceedingly fast."

  "I don't suppose," Dare interrupted, "you would care to put them to a test?"

  "A test? What are you suggesting?"

  "Your pair against my grays."

  "You are proposing a race?" Riddingham asked.

  "You sound surprised."

  "Perhaps you aren't aware, Wolverton, that I am a member of the Four-in-Hand Club?"

  The club, Julienne knew, was made up of England's premier whips who regularly held races to exhibit their driving skills.

  "I'm aware," Dare replied dryly. "And your expertise is doubtless unexcelled. But I think I can manage to provide enough sport to make a race worth your while. To keep it interesting, I propose that we each take a passenger-the lady of our choice. I intend to claim Miss Laurent, so you needn't bother asking her. But I'm certain Miss Upcott will oblige you."

  Fanny Upcott was the Covent Garden actress Dare had invited to his house party.

  "We can race to Hampstead Heath, if you like," Dare continued. "The posting inn at Primrose Hill would be a good place to start. The distance to the Blue Boar Tavern on the Heath would be… what… five miles? The winner buys dinner at the Blue Boar. What do you say, Riddingham?" When the viscount hesitated, Dare added with a smile, "Surely I'm not so intimidating as to make you refuse a challenge?"

  "Not at all," Riddingham said testily. "Very well, I will race you. Barring rain, we will meet at ten o'clock tomorrow at Primrose Hill."

  "Will you speak to Miss Upcott yourself, or do you need me to put in a good word for you?"

  "I will do it," Riddingham snapped before turning his attention back to Julienne. "I am eager to see your portrayal of Ophelia in Hamlet this evening, Miss Laurent…"

  Dare allowed her barely enough time to reply before he made their excuses and drove on, looking more than a little self-satisfied.

  "What the devil was that about, challenging him to a curricle race?" Julienne asked in annoyance when they were out of earshot.

  "I'm simply trying to shake things up a bit," Dare replied blandly.

  "You are taking a great deal for granted by assuming I will accompany you. You're greatly mistaken if you think to have me at your beck and call-"

  "I promise I am not taking you for granted, cherie."

  "It certainly seems that way. You left me in no position to refuse. Your underhanded tactics are deplorable, Dare."

  "Haven't you heard the adage that all is fair on the battlefield of love?"

  His nonchalance irked her. "You are mangling your quotes again!"

  Dare turned an innocent gaze on her. "Do you know, you are sure to get premature wrinkles between your eyes if you keep up that savage scowl?"

  "Dare!"

  His expression sobered in the face of her genuine anger, and he drew the curricle to a halt, giving her his full attention. "Forgive me, Jewel. I am deadly serious, despite my regrettable teasing. I desperately need your help with Riddingham. I beg you, will you please, please agree to accompany me on the race tomorrow?"

  Mollified a slight measure by his seemingly earnest contrition, Julienne raised an eyebrow. "Desperately?"

  A gleam of humor lit his eyes. "Yes, desperately."

  "Very well. I will agree to help you. But you might consider asking next time before you volunteer me for your infamous games."

  "Thank you, my love." Transferring the reins to one hand, he raised her fingers to his lips. The lazy, smoldering look from those eyes made her weak with wanting him.

  Highly discomfited, Julienne drew her hand away "Are you trying to charm me out of my ill-humor?" she muttered.

  His quick grin had a raffish quality. "But of course. I get my way so much more easily with charm."

  Julienne raised her eyes to the sky and counted to ten before responding. "If that is so, then why aren't you using it on Riddingham? Why do I sense that you are deliberately attempting to rile him?"

  "I told you, to agitate him into making a misstep." Shifting his attention to his horses, Dare set the vehicle in motion again. "In fact… we've had so few leads in the search for Caliban that I've decided to change tactics altogether. Stir the pot, you might say."

  "Meaning?"

  "I've begun putting out word that I am hunting the traitor."

  Julienne frowned at his admission. "Isn't that potentially dangerous? If Caliban is as ruthless as you say, could you not be making yourself his target?"

  "It would be worth the risk if I could draw him out." When she remained silent, Dare shot her an arch glance. "Can it be that you are actually concerned for my skin, love?"

  She was gravely concerned, although she had no intention of admitting it to him. "But of course," she answered lightly. "If something untoward befell you, then I would have no chance to win our wager."

  To her surprise, Dare's expression grew intensely somber. "This is a trifle more serious than our wager. Three weeks ago a young woman was found drowned. She was companion to Lady Castlereagh…"

  Julienne listened in shock and dismay as he told her about Alice Watson's death and the reasons for believing she'd been seduced to gain access to Lord Castlereagh's letters and then murdered.

  Her brow furrowing, Julienne searched Dare's face. "Do you honestly think Riddingham could be so heinous as to murder an innocent girl?"

  "I don't know. It would help to discover whether he even knew Alice Watson, and whether he had the opportunity to woo her. I'd give a monkey to know where he was on March seventh when she was killed. It could prove-or perhaps even disprove-his complicity."

  "Is there anythi
ng I can do?" Julienne offered. "Perhaps I could discreetly question Riddingham and see what I can learn."

  "No," Dare said curtly, "I will handle it."

  He felt Julienne studying him. "A few days ago you suggested I take him for my lover so I could try to ferret out his secrets."

  "A few days ago I was behaving like a jealous ass."

  "And you are not now?"

  His mouth curved in a reluctant grin. "I admit I harbor a measure of possessiveness where you're concerned. And jealousy isn't my only reason for declining your offer to investigate. If Riddingham is a killer, I don't want you anywhere near him. You should dress warmly tomorrow," Dare warned, changing the subject. "The wind will be wicked with the pace I intend to set."

  She sighed. "What time should I be ready?"

  "I'll call for you in the morning at half past nine… Unless you mean to invite me to spend the night with you to save time…?"

  "Do you never give up?" Julienne said in exasperation.

  "Never," Dare retorted with an amused laugh.

  The remainder of their drive was accomplished in relative harmony. And when Dare returned her to her lodgings, he merely kissed her fingers again. But he wanted to do more. Much more.

  Clearly, however, Julienne was not of the same mind, Dare reflected irritably as he drove away. His powers of seduction had never proved so pitiful.

  He was getting nowhere with her, certainly not where he wanted to be, which was in bed with her naked beneath him, her legs wrapped around his waist. He was beginning to be positively haunted by visions of making love to her again.

  There was only one advantage to their current stalemate, Dare acknowledged. Since her betrayal all those years ago, he had felt numb inside, but now he felt eager, alive, all his senses teeming. He woke each morning looking forward to the day, counting the moments till he saw Julienne again-

  At the thought, Dare cursed. She had been right on that score: she was a supreme danger to him. He was becoming besotted with her, whether he wished to or not.

  He needed to conquer his growing obsession with her, Dare chided himself. Needed to prove that he could satisfy his fierce craving by other means.