Nicole Jordan (15 page)

Her dampness was explicit and pulsing, a fact that Dare noted at once. “I haven’t even put my mouth on you and already you are dripping wet,” he murmured with satisfaction.

It was true, Julienne admitted. She had only to look at him and she grew wet.

He gently dug his fingers into her thighs and spread them wider, allowing no escape from the sensation of being at his mercy.

“This is your punishment,” Dare said in a husky voice. “To burn as I do.”

Dazed, she glanced down at his open breeches. His erection thrust prominently upward, rising markedly as her own excitement grew.

With slow deliberation he touched her with his tongue, just caressing the outer rim of her quivering flesh. Julienne was grateful that the statue supported her, for she didn’t think she could stand otherwise. Leaning against it, she let her head fall back. Dare knew exactly how to touch her so that she was defenseless, how to cherish her petal-like folds with his strong tongue, how to find her yearning bud of pleasure….

Julienne whimpered as he tantalized her endlessly. She was aroused, past aroused. Then he pressed his mouth right up against her, sucking in a kiss, and her knees went so weak, she practically fell.

His hands framed her buttocks, supporting her, holding her still for his pleasure.

Her breath grew ragged. His mouth was pure magic, tender and demanding. His tongue stabbed deep into her, making her writhe and arch her hips.

It was too much to endure, yet she prayed for him to go on. Wordlessly he obliged, prolonging the building ecstasy.

Her flesh seemed to burn…the heat so fierce she thought she might faint. When her climax ripped through her, he made it last, drawing out the devastating bliss till she sagged limply back against the statue, her eyes shut tightly.

He waited a moment as the pulsing rapture subsided. Then, with one last erotic caress of his lips, he let her gown fall.

Still struggling for breath, Julienne allowed her gaze to drift downward. Dare had wrapped his hand around his erection and was fondling himself, stroking his long, thick phallus as she longed to do.

He glanced up at her, his eyes burning with the passion he made no effort to disguise, his faced flushed with his near-orgasmic state. “If you won’t have pity and ease my ache…”

He let the sentence go unfinished as his expression turned to pleasure-pain. She could see his knuckles strain as he squeezed his arousal harder.

A moment later a strangled groan sounded from deep in his throat as the fierce jet of his ejaculation spurted across the tangle of rosebushes. With a deep sigh, he sank back on his heels, his eyes closing.

“A poor substitute for the real thing,” he murmured finally, “but it will have to do.”

Glancing at Julienne without the least sign of remorse or embarrassment, he withdrew a handkerchief to wipe away the evidence of his burning passion and then fastened his breeches.

“
Now
I think we may safely return,” he said with a very male smile.

The remainder of the house party was nerve-racking for Julienne, since when Dare was near, she could scarcely think for remembering his erotic caresses.

She deplored the sensual power he held over her, yet the emotional turmoil he caused her was even more dangerous. Her soul had been starved for intimacy for years, and she found herself craving the closeness she’d once known with him. Dare was the only man who had ever looked beyond her face and figure to the person she was beneath. The only one who had ever cared about her true thoughts or feelings, who had made her feel cherished as a woman and valued as a friend.

Now, however, he had no interest in her other than to mete out revenge and to slake his physical need and to use her to better observe Riddingham. She was terrified Dare would take ruthless advantage of her vulnerability, leaving her emotions crushed and bludgeoned like before.

When the blow came, though, she wasn’t prepared. The day following their passionate interlude in the rose garden, the company took a sightseeing trip to Brighton to view the Marine Parade and the famous Pavilion that the Prince Regent had commissioned to be built. Afterward they enjoyed a late luncheon on the cliffs overlooking the sea.

When the party took a stroll along the cliff path, Julienne found Dare walking beside her.

“You seem quite taken with Riddingham today,” he observed in a cool undertone. “Your flirtation with him has reached epic proportions.”

She gave him an arch look. Since yesterday she had devoted nearly all her attention to the viscount, for two reasons. First, flirting with him helped her counter the threat of Dare’s determined seduction. And second, she hoped to discover something about Riddingham that could be useful in Dare’s investigation. If Dare were to unmask the traitor, she theorized, then he might abandon his pursuit of her, and she could have him out of her life for good.

“I am merely staying in character,” she claimed, not wholly truthfully. “I promised you I would maintain our charade, remember?”

“So you did.” His mouth curled, while his tone was mockingly congenial. “I’m gratified at least that you didn’t go running to Riddingham to warn him of my suspicions.”

She felt herself stiffen. “Did you truly think I would?”

“Let’s say I wasn’t certain I could trust you, any more than you feel you can trust me. But you are doing an admirable job of rousing his lust.”

“You cannot possibly be jealous,” Julienne returned with sugary sweetness.

The dark flare that suddenly kindled in Dare’s eyes told her she had struck a nerve with her accusation. “A primitive male instinct, jealousy. One I will endeavor to contain for the sake of duty. I want very much for you to encourage Riddingham’s infatuation. He is more prone to share his secrets with you if he’s enamored of you.”

“Presuming he has secrets to share.”

“You are in an excellent position to discover that. He’s eager to become your cicisbeo, and you could easily oblige him.”

Julienne gave Dare a sharp glance. “And just what do you mean by that? You aren’t suggesting I take him as my paramour?”

“The thought had occurred to me.”

She nearly stumbled as she stared up at Dare. “You want me to
whore
for you?”

“Why not?” His eyebrow rose cynically, although there was an intentness in his probing gaze that was far from sanguine. “It shouldn’t offend your sensibilities. After all, you have extensive experience seducing unsuspecting gentlemen.”

Struggling to hide her hurt, Julienne regarded Dare without expression. “I believe I’ve told you before,
I
will choose whom I take to my bed, not you or anyone else.”

A wintery smile touched his lips. “I’m prepared to make it financially worth your while. You could be a wealthy woman if you play your cards wisely.”

Pain sliced through Julienne like a knife blade, making her breath hiss through her teeth. For a moment she couldn’t even speak.

But then she summoned her finest acting skills and offered Dare a reckless smile. “Perhaps I will indeed take Riddingham as my paramour. I have no doubt he will make a considerate lover…unlike some other gentlemen I could choose.”

She saw the sharp glitter of emotion that flickered in Dare’s eyes—pain? anger?—and knew she had scored a hit.

Ignoring his searing look, she pursed her lips thoughtfully. “On second thought, I don’t believe I will. If I were to take Riddingham for my lover, he would doubtless expect me to abandon my wager with you, and I have no intention of losing to you, Lord Wolverton.”

Julienne left Dare then and surged ahead on the path, vehemently determined to conceal her own pain and anger. She managed it temporarily, but by the time she caught up with Solange, she was nearly blind with hurt. She could scarcely believe how violently she was trembling.

She shook her head at her friend’s questioning glance and struggled for the appearance of composure, yet it required all her talent to pretend that Dare’s suggestion hadn’t wounded her to the core.

He thought her a whore. And the worst part was, she couldn’t refute him.

Julienne shivered, feeling a sudden chill that went bone-deep.

She was glad when the afternoon at last ended and she could take refuge in her bedchamber. Collapsing on the bed, she buried her face in a pillow and gave vent to her anguished thoughts.

She
had
been a whore for a time. Shortly after her life had been rocked by scandal and she’d taken up acting to survive, her mother’s illness had grown hopelessly severe. To provide for
Maman
’s care, Julienne had had no choice but to augment her meager income by becoming the mistress of a wealthy lord.

The first time she gave her body for money, she’d wept agonizing tears. But afterward, she stoically shut off her emotions, determined to endure. It had helped that her protector was a kind, elderly, gentleman whose compassion and consideration won her respect and genuine affection. Yet there had been times during those difficult years when living hurt so badly she’d wanted to die.

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.