Instead, she propelled herself into his arms with three little words he’d have loved to hear if circumstances had been different: “The sofa, quickly.”
Chapter 3
The force of her motion drove them both backward onto said piece of furniture. Julian hit the sofa hard with her on top of him in an inelegant sprawl. Then he heard what she’d heard moments before: people. Someone else had found the dratted room, two of them with libidinous intentions from the sounds they were making. Good lord, the entire party would soon be ensconced in this most remote chamber.
“Don’t just lie there, kiss me, or we’ll be stuck here for the duration of their affair.” She jerked her head toward the sounds of the interlopers, whispering in stern, dictatorial tones that didn’t sound in the least like the dulcet voice of an innocent young lady. Come to think of it, she didn’t feel like an innocent young lady either. The breasts crushed against him, spilling out of her ball gown, were definitely a woman’s breasts, full and lush. Julian’s erection stirred to life. How could it not? She was stunning in the flush of excitement—her breath coming fast, her green eyes flashing, her hair falling out of its coiffure around her face.
Intuition told him she wasn’t what her appearance led him to believe. For the first time, it occurred to him that she was possibly a liar, a very beautiful liar. The thought completed his arousal, the proof of which was pressing against her stomach in obvious force. She really mustn’t wiggle like that.
Suddenly Julian jerked. The minx had her hand on him in a most indecent way. He was no prude, but he at least liked to exchange names before such proceedings. Before he could protest, she silenced him with an openmouthed kiss. She moaned audibly, her hand running the length of him, taking his measure through his trousers. “Oh my lord, you’re magnificent, so big, so powerful.” She gasped and giggled, making every effort to be heard. She lifted her face far enough from his for him to read her arch expression.
Julian smiled. He understood her game, a clever ploy to expel the new invaders from the room. “It is you who makes me such a stallion, my sweetling,” he parried, nipping at her bottom lip and coercing a surprised squeal from her. It served the wench right for taking his trousers at unawares. She sucked at the delicate lobe of his ear in retaliation. He groaned his appreciation and the game within the game was fully underway.
This venture was quickly becoming less about driving the intruders from the room and more about something else altogether. His stranger was an able partner; nibbling at his ear, stroking him expertly with her hand until he thought he might lose control without even taking his trousers off. That would be a first.
His minx drew back as suddenly as she had engaged. “I think they’re gone.” Gingerly, she lifted her head to peer over the sofa. Julian decided to tickle her one last time for good measure. He told himself such precautions were to keep up the believable pretense. But in reality, he knew better. He wasn’t ready for the game to be over. She gave a little scream and he pulled her back down onto him.
“What was that for?” she scolded, pushing at his chest to lever herself upright.
“Just in case they were still here. Are they?” Julian asked, admiring his view of her breasts, which were rising and falling in her indignation. He ached to cup them, to feel their purported firmness fill his hands. And why shouldn’t he? Such an action would only be returning the favor.
“No, they’ve gone.” She moved, trying to disengage. Julian held her firmly by the hips.
“Good, then we can get back to our unfinished business, as it were.” Julian boldly glanced down at his aroused member.
“I think not, sir. You have misconstrued my motives. Such actions were merely a distraction, a decoy. Now, if you’d please release me?”
Julian chuckled. The innocent-young-lady facade was back. “Hasn’t anyone told you it’s bad manners to leave a gentleman aroused?”
“A gentleman wouldn’t be ill-mannered enough to mention his, ah, ‘condition’ to a lady,” she said in shocked tones.
Julian snorted. “You would have me believe that the woman who expertly—and I do mean to emphasize expertly here—expertly stroked me into full arousal is now appalled by the nature of our association?”
She looked meaningfully at the bulge in his trousers. “You were excited long before my hand came along.”
“You, miss, are a tease of the highest order.” Julian sat up in a fluid movement, purposefully spilling his golden-haired vixen onto the floor.
“How dare you!” She stood up rapidly, shaking out her skirts, her eyes scanning the floor. For a moment Julian thought she’d lost something. Then the sensation passed.
She looked entirely enchanting in her dishabille; hair tumbled, dress rumpled, one sleeve askew. Julian could not resist the temptation that rose in him. “I think you’ll find that I will dare quite a lot, my dear.”
He reached for her, an arm sliding about her waist to pull her to him, his other hand at her nape, guiding, angling her mouth to his for the perfect kiss, the right amount of penetration. He wanted her to know she wasn’t the only expert in the room. When a woman had been kissed by Julian Burke, she long remembered it.
She sighed her pleasure into his mouth as he deepened the kiss. He moved a hand to the breast he’d coveted, caressing, teasing her nipple beneath the thin fabric as she had teased his arousal. Her body responded, her nipple hardening with rising desire. She cried out, pressing her body against his. He could feel her hands on his body, on his chest, inside his shirt, everywhere, in an attempt to slake her need. He pushed her dress down to her waist, desperate for those breasts of hers. Her hand had found the core of his manhood again and was stroking vigorously. He groaned without restraint, without a care.
He was reaching for the hem of her skirts to drag them up and complete their passion when the gentleman in him prodded his conscience. How far was he going to let this go? The experience was as extraordinary as it was unorthodox. A gentleman did not simply engage in sex with a nameless stranger in a dark room. This was not a bacchanal; this was a society ball, for heaven’s sake, and he’d best remember that.
Julian drew back and gently disengaged her. “I think we’d best stop before we do anything regrettable.”
She turned away from him, suddenly modest while she pulled up her bodice. “Is that how you’d describe sex with you? Regrettable?” She tossed him a saucy look over one shoulder.
Julian laughed. He stepped toward her, intending to take her in his arms again and dispel any doubts about his capabilities with the force of his lingering erection against her buttocks. But she was ready for him and neatly sidestepped his efforts.
She had the chair between them with a swish of her skirts. “Uh, uh, uh.” She wagged a finger in playful scolding. “Now who’s the tease? You said it was finished for tonight. You must stick to your rule, monsieur. I will bid you adieu.”
She was almost at the door when Julian remembered what had brought them to this unsatisfactory conclusion—something about sex with a nameless stranger. “What’s your name? How will I find you again?”
She gave him another of her smiles, but no answers. “That is part of the charm, n’est-ce pas? Bon soir, monsieur.”
His desire remained nameless. Julian watched her sail out of the room. He was already contemplating the next time. Nothing would stop him then. Next time, they would consummate their mutual need. There would be a next time, name or not. He’d find her.
He sank into a chair, letting his legs sprawl. Alone at last. Whew, what a way to get what he wanted. Julian stared at the portrait. Finally he could complete his business. He strode to the door and locked it this time. He should have locked it the first time, but locked doors were hard to explain, and he’d had no reason to fear discovery. Now he was on alert. He could take no chances in case the whispering strangers returned. The quicker this was accomplished, the sooner he could be en route to England to restore the missing jewels to the monarchy.
Julia
n crossed the room to the portrait, his mind on the task at hand, when a glimmer under the sofa caught his eye. Julian bent down to investigate. His hand closed around steel. He held the object to the dim light, a frisson running through him. It was a gun, a small gun, a weapon to be used discreetly. And it was still warm, as if it had recently been pressed against someone’s body. There was no chance the weapon had been misplaced and left for days under the sofa.
Julian swallowed. There had been only two people in this room and the gun wasn’t his. The only conclusion seemed illogical. Why would his stranger need a weapon? This was followed by the realization she’d been on top of him with a loaded firearm. Good God, she could have gelded him. Julian fiercely pushed those morbid thoughts aside and tried to focus on the mystery at hand.
He’d already established that she was not what she seemed. Why had she been in this room? It made little sense to think she’d abandoned him on the veranda only to follow him here. There was only one reason he could think of as to why anyone would purposefully come here. His eyes flew to the portrait. His hand flew to the pocket of his evening coat.
Julian Burke swore out loud. The pocket of his coat, in which he’d carried an excellent paste replica of the diamonds, was empty. He could see the scene in his head now. Her hands on him, slipping and sliding all over his body, and he too far gone in his passion to conceive of ulterior reasons for those caresses. There was no doubt a hidden pocket in her gown, probably where she’d originally carried the gun, and she’d slid the diamonds into it with ease. He knew now that it was the gun she’d been looking for during that uncertain moment after he’d dumped her on the floor. Damn, had she had the gun all that time?
There was nothing for it. He’d have to take the diamonds and hope he got out of the country before anyone noticed they were missing and connected him to the situation. He’d planned to replace the diamonds with the faux gems in order to avoid immediate detection of the theft. With luck, it might take years before anyone realized the gems were fake. By then, the trail to him would be ice-cold.
Julian lifted the portrait down off the wall and went to work on the safe. It was a matter of a few minutes before he had the safe open. There were other jewels inside but he took only the ones required by England and the crown. He tucked them into his pocket and rehung the picture. Now he’d casually return to the ballroom, say goodnight to his hostess, politely inquire about the identity of his stranger and walk out the front door and to bed with his treasure intact. Tomorrow would be a busy day—starting with a visit to his lady of mystery. Whoever she was, she would be in for a very unpleasant surprise.
Chapter 4
The diamond necklace threw sparks of colored light against the wall of Sophie’s rented rooms on the Schonlanterngasse. Sophie turned the necklace a fraction and watched the prisms dance in the morning sun appreciatively.
This morning she was filled with satisfaction. She’d sent a note immediately to the Italian count. She only had to await his direction regarding how he wanted the diamonds delivered. She stretched on the faded sofa, enjoying the elation of a job completed. In this case, a career completed.
Never again would she have to take the risk of running afoul of the law. She understood that not everyone viewed her job the same way she did. What she saw as the task of returning misplaced property to its rightful owners, others could easily see as thievery of a sort. After all, if people were willing to simply give back their misbegotten items she wouldn’t have had a job; a job she’d desperately needed, but hadn’t planned on.
No decently brought up girl planned on a career like hers. She certainly never had. But then she’d never planned on being evicted from her girlhood home by a distant male cousin, or having to make her own way in the world.
Sophie put down the necklace and picked up a bracelet, letting it slide over her slim wrist. She felt no qualms about trying on the merchandise. Once she returned to England, there would be no more luxuries in the earthy life she planned for herself.
She did feel a twinge of regret over that aspect. She’d become accustomed to a life of pretty dresses and glittering ballrooms, although she was never more than a visitor in that milieu. When she had her horse farm, there would be no more silks, champagne parties and no more well-heeled men like Julian Burke, who were as dangerous as they were handsome.
While Sophie didn’t give a second thought to taking the jewels, her behavior with Julian Burke had been quite scandalous—appalling, really. She’d fondled him! And he’d fondled her, she reminded herself in all fairness. It was quite equitable. Yes indeed, a most equitable amount of kissing and caressing had occurred. But it was also as shameful as it was equitable. She hardly knew the man except by reputation alone. Lord knew that reputation wasn’t sterling. After last night, that reputation would need some polishing if anyone found out. Julian Burke, a jewel thief! She shouldn’t be surprised.
Sophie had learned quickly in Vienna that few people were what they appeared to be. Julian Burke was obviously no exception. To the public eye he was an Englishman here on diplomatic business and pleasure. From what she’d experienced, that was absolutely true, pleasure being the larger part of his obligations. But he had them all fooled. No one knew he was also a jewel thief.
Sophie sighed and lay back against the arm of the sofa. Last night had been an incredible stroke of luck. If she’d backed out of that room and quietly gone on her way, she would not have discovered the diamonds had already been retrieved. The discovery had been sheer accident. She couldn’t take intentional credit for it. She could only take credit for having been in the man’s arms, for giving in to the temptations he roused in her. Those temptations had led to the intimate explorations she’d been undertaking when her hands had run across the diamonds in his pocket. She’d studied the drawings of the jewels long enough to recognize the contours when she felt them.
It had been simple enough to encourage him to explore the fever rising between them, and to slip the jewels from his pocket, although it would have been easier if the man hadn’t been struck with a guilty conscience and ended the interlude so soon. Oh yes, encouraging him had been the easy part. Forgetting the reciprocal feelings he’d raised in her was proving to be far more difficult.
What she’d done with him was outrageous. She could pretend with herself that it had all just been part of the job, but she could not forget what he’d roused in her. She needed to set those feelings aside. She would never see him again and it was for the best. She had a respectable life waiting for her.
Sophie raised her arm, turning her wrist this way and that to show off the bracelet, focusing her attentions on the dancing facets.
“They look lovely on you,” an all-too-recognizable voice said from the doorway. So much for never seeing him again. Sophie shot up, reminding herself to stay calm. There was honor among thieves to some extent and there was certainly something more than honor that had sparked between the two of them last night. She was not without defenses, although the first line of defense—the remarkably inquisitive landlady—had certainly failed this morning. In her kinder moments, Sophie liked to think of the landlady as a version of Cerberus, the three-headed dog guarding the underworld in Greek mythology. Between the woman’s sharp eyes, curiosity and her unnerving penchant for poking her nose into everyone’s business, no one got in or out of the front door. And certainly no one set foot on the stairs without her knowing about it. But Julian Burke had made it all the way to her rooms. Most unnerving indeed.
Sophie fixed him with a coy stare. “You found me. You’re faster than I thought you’d be. I wasn’t expecting you until tonight.”
“The truth is, my dear, you weren’t expecting me at all.” He pushed off from the door frame and crossed the little room toward her.
No, she hadn’t been expecting him. She’d been so lost in her daydreams she hadn’t heard the door open. She’d been so confident in her landlady’s ability to scent out a stranger the door was unlocked. Both errors were pr
oof enough that she’d underestimated him in many ways. In the daylight he was taller than she’d realized last night; taller, broader, more handsome, more commanding, more everything.
His gaze dominated her with its slow perusal, his sharp eyes a dark shade of gray reminiscent of a topaz necklace she’d reclaimed once for a Russian prince.
“I was unaware you had an appointment to call,” Sophie said with a bravado she didn’t feel. They both knew why he was here.
A smile flirted on his lips and Sophie remembered the feel of that mouth on her; on her mouth, on her breasts. Her body warmed at the indecent thought. “I’m here for my diamonds, Sophie DuPlessy.”
Ah, he had her name. Perhaps he was more than a thief. A thief would not have stopped to ask the hostess for a name, and that was likely where he’d gotten it. An invited guest, then, in the house of an French Comte? If so, that made him a man of means and influence. He was recognized in Vienna’s prominent social circles.
“If they’re yours, why did you have to steal them?” Sophie challenged.
“Why did you?” He took a step closer, making Sophie intensely aware of the breadth of his shoulders.
“They belong to my client. I am returning them to their rightful owner.”
“The Count di Brazzo?” He gave a disdainful chuckle. “They’re not his diamonds, my dear.”
Sophie hid her surprise. “How do you know about him?” Someone, somewhere had been willing to talk, and Julian Burke had cared enough to find him. The thought made her distinctly uncomfortable.
“Does it matter?” He scooped the necklace up from the table where it lay, arching a sardonic eyebrow that foreshadowed ill tidings. “Anyway, he won’t want these, Sophie.”
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