Her eye was drawn to the furniture; an ornate cabinet of ebony stood against one wall, inlaid with gold and ivory to create a design, perhaps a symbol of some sort. Low-slung chairs filled with pillows sat at angles to a low teak table, but what garnered her gaze unequivocally was the bed.
Unlike the high, pillared beds she was accustomed to seeing, this bed was framed low to the ground, piled with pillows and silken coverlets. Blankets seemed too ordinary of a word to describe the lush swathes of fabric that lay strewn about the bed, vibrant in their shades of scarlet, saffron and jade. Julia could not resist the temptation to touch the fabrics. She walked to the bed and ran her fingers across the surface of the closest covering, revelling in the smoothness of the silk as it shushed through her hands.
For a moment, she’d forgotten where she was and why she was there. The heat of his gaze on her back served as a searing reminder. She dropped the blanket self-consciously and stiffened.
‘It’s a magnificent bed,’ Paine said from across the room in a slow drawl that indicated he’d watched her every move.
‘It’s very interesting. I’ve never seen one like it,’ Julia replied stiffly, turning away from the bed.
‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like a drink before we get started?’ Paine offered, opening the inlaid doors of the ebony cabinet to reveal assorted sizes of crystal glassware and an impressive collection of decanters.
Julia was tempted to say no. As a rule, she didn’t drink beyond an occasional glass of champagne. But tonight, the thought-numbing properties of alcohol, which she had been warned against as a débutante, might be just the addition she needed to get through the evening. ‘Yes, sherry, please.’
Before she could rethink her decision, Paine had the glass in her hand and was gesturing to one of the cushioned chairs. ‘Let’s sit and talk. It makes these encounters less formal.’
His coolness spoke volumes about his character, Julia thought. While she was fighting back nerves, he was entirely at ease, as if this were something he did regularly—which, in fact, it was, according to the rumours. He lounged casually in his chair, looking devastatingly handsome and comfortable. The only sign he was in any way affected by the presence of a female in his chambers was the burning intensity of his eyes—eyes that followed her every gesture, every move. She was supremely conscious she was fiddling overmuch with the folds of her skirts as she sat.
Julia sipped from her glass, giving herself a moment to savour the warmth of the sweet liquor as it slid down to her belly. ‘You must like to travel.’ There. That was a safe topic.
Paine nodded briefly. ‘I have found places in the world where I feel at home.’
‘Are these pieces of furniture from any of those places?’ Julia asked, her eyes sliding to the lacquered cabinet, looking desperately for a safe direction of conversation. She’d hoped he would have said more about his travels than the meagre offering of a single sentence. But the talkativeness he’d exhibited upon arrival seemed to have disappeared. ‘Do you know anything about the design on the cabinet? It appears to be a symbol. Do you know what it is?’
‘Yes. I know.’ Paine followed her gaze to the inlaid panels of the cabinet doors, a smile quirking at his sensual lips.
The dratted man was a rotten conversationalist with his minimal answers. Julia put down her glass and rose. She went to the panels, tracing a portion of the symbol with a slow finger. ‘Mr Ramsden, talking to you is virtually impossible since you are not the least bit forthcoming with any information. I feel obliged to tell you that a gentleman is able to make conversation on a diverse array of subjects.’ She hazarded a sideways glance at Ramsden to see the effect of her veiled barb.
It had hit the mark, perhaps too effectively. Ramsden rose and came towards her with all the feral stealth of a jungle panther. He paced behind her, giving Julia the distinct impression she was being stalked. She had not meant to strike so deeply.
‘Miss Prentiss,’ he began in low tones, ‘your very comment is a trap from which neither of the answers available shall save me. My dilemma, you see, is that while proving my worth as a gentleman I am at the same time besmirching that title by the same means. If I confess that I am no gentleman, I shall save myself from answering what the symbol is, but at the expense of my honour, which I hold dearer than you might have been led to believe. On the other hand, if I confess what the symbol is and provide an erudite exposition of my conversational skills, I shall vouch for my ability to perform the gentlemanly arts. However, discussing that symbol with any well-bred girl is a conversational topic that no true gentleman would broach. So I ask you—do you want to know what the symbol stands for?’
Julia bit her lip and fought the desire to step back, away from his masculine onslaught. He stood with hands on his hips hardly inches from her, his blue eyes penetrating and challenging as he threw down his gauntlet. She saw his ploy and the detection gave her strength. He still thought to scare her with his dares and the promise of blatant sin.
The man was positively aggravating. She was supposed to be the one baiting the hook and yet he’d neatly turned the conversation to his advantage. ‘So you cleverly choose neither option. Instead, you lure me with temptation, betting that my curiosity will cause me to permit you to speak freely, thus absolving you of any gentlemanly obligation on the subject.’
‘Touché. You see my ploy too clearly.’ Ramsden covered his heart with a hand in mock hurt.
‘You might as well tell me about the symbol,’ Julia prompted. ‘After all, I am about to grant you far more liberties than that of questionable speech.’ It was as close as she would get to admitting her curiosity had won out. Since he’d made such a to-do over discussing the panel, she had to know what it was about.
Ramsden’s hands came down on her shoulders, his fingers kneading gently through the thin material of her dancing gown. He turned her away from him to face the cabinet, his voice low and soft at her ear. In that moment, her senses were utterly encircled by his presence; the scent of him in her nostrils, the warm strength of his body against her back, the press of his fingers to her shoulders. He was the centre of her universe, the only person she could see, smell, touch or hear. Julia could scarcely concentrate on the tale he laid out in tones designed to seduce even the most resolute spinster.
‘The symbol is known throughout the eastern world as yin and yang, two opposite but yet complementary forces that make up all aspects of life.’ His voice dropped a notch lower, speaking now just to her. ‘Yin, the dark portion of the symbol, is female. It represents valleys and streams. It is passive and absorbing.’ At this, Ramsden ran a hand languorously down her arm, took her fingers between his and led them over the bottom part of the inlay, the ebony smooth and cool to her touch. He guided her hand over the top portion done in ivory.
‘This is yang, her male counterpart, representing light and heaven. Yang is penetrating and active.’ He pressed his hips against the round swell of her buttocks, letting her feel the possibilities of penetration between her thighs, between them. Julia inhaled sharply at the suggestive display. He whispered huskily, ‘Yin and yang express the interdependence of opposites. Without the other, neither is complete. Feel the need you arouse in me, Julia, a need only you can slake. ‘
Julia felt weak. Heaven help her, she was a wanton to react in such a base manner with a stranger she didn’t know beyond a name. Her business proposition was quickly turning to unnamable pleasure. She wanted to sink back against his chest, let his arms close about her and take her weight. She wanted him to fulfil the ancient, earthy promises of his voice. She’d never guessed a simple cabinet could inspire this depth of longing.
One of his hands slid about her waist, drawing her against his hardness, the other was in her hair, slipping through the pins and pearls of her elegant coiffure until her hair hung loose and free. This time when his hardness jutted against her back, she could not even feign shock over his intimate proposal. This time, her inhalation was from pure desire that would not be
put off any longer.
She turned in his arms, pressing her body against his, instinctively rubbing her nipples against his chest in a desperate attempt to quell the tempest brewing at her core. She looked up into his face. His blue eyes no longer reminded her of the colour of the sky on a deep summer day, but bore shades of midnight, darkened as they were by his arousal.
Something thrilled deep within her at the knowledge she had done this to him. But her own rising need left little time for contemplation or even a celebration of victory. She was drowning in heretofore unknown sensations and she clung to him for support. Intuition told her only he could provide an antidote to what coursed through her veins.
‘Steady now,’ Paine whispered to her, his hands on the buttons of her gown, expertly freeing her body from its satin casing. Through the thin linen of her chemise, he traced the silhouette of her body against the candles’ flames. His thumbs teased her nipples through the cloth until Julia panted for release. She reached to pull the chemise over her head, suddenly in a hurry to be completely naked, as if by being so she could assuage the pressure growing within her, demanding emancipation.
To her frustration, Paine pushed her hands away. ‘Not yet, my eager one.’ He bent and swept her into his arms. Julia gasped at the sudden movement, but she hadn’t the wherewithal or desire to protest when he laid her on the low bed amidst the silken covers. She made no move to cover herself. She could do nothing but hold Paine’s intense stare. She reached for him to pull him down to her, but he stepped back.
‘Watch me, Julia.’
Did she have a choice? Julia could not muster the fortitude to look away. Paine’s eyes did not leave hers as he lifted his shirt over his head and stood magnificently bare-chested before her, his torso bronzed from years beneath a tropical sun, the strength of the arms that had lifted her evident in the obvious musculature of his shoulders and biceps. Julia groped for a word to describe him. Beautiful came to mind—sublime, masculine beauty, the kind of beauty sculptors carved in stone and for the night it was hers.
His hands dropped to the waistband of his trousers, reminding Julia that he was not done. He was not wearing small clothes underneath and the core of his manhood sprang free of the trousers, straining upright towards his belly in unabashed glory. Artfully, he bent to pull his legs free of the trousers, supplying Julia with an unadulterated glimpse of his backside.
He must be a fabulous horseman, Julia concluded, eyeing the muscled power of his long legs and firm buttocks. The thought was so errant and ridiculous, Julia choked back a giggle.
‘What is it?’
‘I was just thinking you must be a great horseman,’ Julia confessed.
Paine smiled wickedly. ‘I know how to ride.’
The cryptic remark puzzled her. She sensed there was a double meaning, but she could not fathom what it was, too enamoured of the sight before her to do anything else.
Seeing her consternation, his smile softened and he knelt on the floor beside her, the knuckles of his hand grazing her cheek in a caress. ‘Ah, Julia, my innocent.’ He reached for a trifle box on a low table and withdrew an unfamiliar item. Julia watched, amazed, as he fitted it on to his sex.
‘It’s a sheath to prevent us from making a child,’ Paine explained softly. ‘Now, we’re ready for our true pleasure.’
Julia could not imagine more beyond what she’d already felt but Paine knelt at her stockinged feet and convinced her otherwise. Skilful hands rolled down the stockings and discarded them. Lips kissed the sensitive space behind her knees until she thought she would scream aloud from the sensation of it. Heat built inside her, a heat that was damp and scorching all at once as Paine’s hands spread her thighs and his mouth nipped seductively at the tender flesh near her woman’s core, his breath hot against the triangle of her curls.
Then he was over her, covering her with the length of his form, his sex strong against her leg. Without leaving her, he reached again for the trifle box and retrieved a small vial of oil that smelled of lavender when he removed the stopper and poured some into his hand. Julia watched, entranced as Paine moved his hand between her legs and gently inserted his oil-slick fingers inside her.
‘You’re ready for me,’ Paine whispered, covering her again and this time it was his sex that found purchase at her entrance. Julia felt him thrust in, just a little at first, and then, to her dismay, withdraw. She cried out her disappointment. Paine smothered the cry with a kiss and entered again, further this time, and withdrew, then again until Julia realised his rhythm and intention.
Secure now that she was not being teased, Julia fitted her hips against his and joined in the rhythm. She felt him plunge deep, felt a sharp stab of pain. He stilled inside her as she breathed a cry into his mouth and waited until she urged him onwards.
Deep inside her now, their rhythm increased, the pressure grew, spiralled to new levels. Not even his kiss could silence her moans of delight. In this new pleasure, she was free. She was not bound to the earth or to anything on it; beneath Paine Ramsden, she was flying, soaring. When she felt she could not soar any higher, she felt her core fracture into countless pieces, the pressure that had built in her since his first touch finally assuaged. She was boneless and drifting in a new satisfied world, aware only that Paine, too, had seemed to reach a level of fulfilment, contentment. He, too, had cried out at the last and now rested against her, his weight a warm reminder of their intimacy as sleep took her.
Chapter Four
Paine awoke to the scent of lemons mingled with the musk of sex and the warmth of another body cradled against his own, his arm draped over the lush curve of a breast. It was a heady awakening.
Images of the evening came back to him with striking clarity: Julia Prentiss in her delectable aquamarine gown begging him to ruin her, her green eyes shrewdly assessing him as she made her plea; Julia naked on his bed, weeping for his caress as he initiated her to the pleasures of lovemaking; Julia crying out as the final moment of their joining took her to untold heights, her hips arched high into him, her head thrown back on the pillow as she gave way to unabashed ecstasy.
At that moment, all pretence of doing a duty, of thwarting her fate with her madcap scheme, had fled from her thoughts. He’d seen her eyes darken the moment she’d submitted fully to the pleasure between them, when business had ceased. She’d been utterly his, and utterly without artifice.
Everything in that instant had been truth. Not just for her, for him, too. He’d cried out at his pinnacle, feeling his own climax completely, devoid of the usual restraint he practised. It was his wont to give pleasure, not to take his own, not to give in to anything beyond the physical fulfilment of the act.
Last night had been disturbingly different. He’d found he could not hold back the emotional tide that surged at the sounds of Julia’s bliss beneath him. He had given into temptation—a temptation that he rarely felt, if ever—and joined her at the height of her rapture.
The act of doing so was somewhat alarming, perhaps a sign of vulnerability in himself that he had thought long suppressed. Perhaps he wasn’t as changed by his years abroad, his studies of the human condition, his adventures in far-off lands, as he had believed. There was danger in that. He’d been exiled once before for behaving rashly on behalf of a woman. He’d promised himself not to let such foolishness take him again.
Julia stirred beside him, nesting her buttocks against his groin provocatively in her sleep. He flared to life, his body responding immediately to the inadvertent invitation. He tamped it down. He’d taken her twice more after their first joining. She’d be sore this morning. He should refrain until she’d had a hot bath and soaked away the initial soreness. But neither could he lay by her side, playing the neutral eunuch. If he was to grant her a respite, he had to keep himself occupied.
Paine rolled over and out of the bed in a single, quick motion before his body could persuade his conscience to act otherwise. He would see about some breakfast. His new piece of property might be idea
l for a quiet assignation—indeed, he’d only picked up the key two days ago—but as such, it was without staff or supplies. Paine pulled on trousers and shirt. He cast a last glance at Julia, sleeping peacefully, oblivious to the arousal he was fighting on her behalf. He would hurry so that Julia wouldn’t awake alone.
Outside, the sun was up, its brightness something Paine realised he hadn’t seen in quite some time. The streets were strangely quiet as well, something Paine noticed immediately, so at odds was the deserted scene with the crowded bustle he usually contended with. Of course it was London and the streets were never truly deserted. Even now, vendors and workers straggled down the streets to work.
Paine spied a milkmaid turning at the corner, no doubt seeking out the alleyway leading to the back entrance of a neighbouring mansion. He followed her. Milk would be a good start to breakfast. If the milkmaids were just coming out, he judged the time to be a little past six o’clock. Six o’clock! Hell’s bells, it was early! The stark realisation hit him with a feeling of disbelief. It had been ages since he’d seen the city through morning eyes. Early it might be, yet he felt refreshed and ready to take on the day.
Three-quarters of an hour later, Paine stood in the doorway of his bedchamber, carrying a tray laden with the breakfast treasures he’d culled from the early-morning vendors. He indulged in the sight of Julia dozing. He smiled as she turned over, starting to wake. Paine set the tray on the low table near the bed and eased on to the bed at her side, waving an orange beneath her nose.
‘Mmm.’ Julia gave a breathy sigh, her eyes opening at the citrusy scent.
‘Good morning, darling.’ Paine reached out to push a tangle of hair back from her face.
Julia stretched, her movements drawing the loose covering sheet down to reveal a tantalising glimpse of a breast, reminding Paine that his hand had lain against the creamy flesh only an hour ago. The erection he’d subdued with his breakfast errand rose in defiance. She turned her green gaze on him, already sharp, not the least bit dreamy from sleep. ‘What time is it?’
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