Seduced at Midnight

Chapter 11

Gideon didn't give her time to think, didn't give himself time to think, to reconsider. Damn it, he didn't want to think anymore. Couldn't fight this raw, raging need any longer. All he wanted was to feel. Her. All of her. Now.

He slanted his mouth over hers in a hard, hungry, demanding kiss. What sounded like a whimper came from her, but before he could even wonder if he'd hurt her, she proved he hadn't by winding her arms around his neck and pressing herself against him.

He clasped her to him, every muscle straining to get her closer, while his tongue explored the velvet of her mouth. Bloody hell, if heaven had a taste, she was it. Soft, warm, sweet, and delicious. Her body fit against his like a piece of a puzzle he hadn't known was missing. A tiny granule of sanity tried to work its way through the wild, desperate need careening through him but was incinerated when she squirmed against him.

White-hot desire exploded, and with a groan that seemed ripped from the depths of his soul, he ran one impatient hand down her back to curve around her lush bottom, to pull her tighter against his aching body. Possibly, just possibly he might have been able to dredge up the strength to halt this madness if she'd remained passive in his arms. But with her fingers sliding through his hair, her tongue dancing with his, and her body writhing against him, he didn't stand a chance.

His other hand plunged into her hair, scattering pins, sifting through a cascade of soft curls. The seductive scent of vanilla filled his head, overwhelming him with the need to taste.

Without breaking their frantic kiss, he scooped her into his arms then lowered her to the hearth rug, following her down. While his lips continued to ravage hers, he insinuated his knee between her thighs, and his hand found the soft swell of her breast. A low groan sounded. Hers, he thought, but he couldn't be sure.

Needed to touch her… had to touch her. He yanked down her bodice until her breasts were freed, and only then did he find the strength to leave her lips. He kissed his way along her jaw then ran his tongue along the side of her neck, gently sucking on the throbbing pulse there.

"Gideon…" his name, whispered on that breathy sigh, ignited even more of the fire in him that he would have sworn couldn't burn any hotter. She arched beneath him, and he dragged his mouth lower. His tongue circled one nipple then drew the tight bud deep into his mouth while his fingers found the other crest. Her hands fisted in his hair and she gasped, then released her breath on a long moan of pleasure.

He kissed and nuzzled his way around her luscious breasts, teasing and licking with his lips and tongue, lightly grazing her soft skin with his teeth, while his hand wandered lower, exploring the curve of her waist and hips through her gown. When his fingers curled over her mound, her heat nearly singed him.

A single word pounded through his mind, the same mantra that had been driving him mad with want for the past two months. Julianne…Julianne. His usual control burned to ashes, leaving only a hot, raw, desperate need that demanded to be satisfied. Wanting, needing more, he reached down and slipped his hand beneath the hem of her gown. Skimmed his palm up her stocking-covered leg, over the gentle curve of her calf and thigh. His restless fingers unerringly found the slit in her drawers. The first touch of her slick feminine folds nearly undid him. Bloody hell, she was so wet. So hot.

She groaned again, and he lifted his head. And gritted his teeth against the arousing sight of her. Hair a golden tumble of disarray, moist, kiss-swollen lips parted, eyes glazed and half-closed, nipples erect and wet from his mouth. Bathed in the glow from the fire, she somehow managed to look like an angel and living, breathing sin at the same time.

He lowered his head and brushed his mouth over hers. "Spread your legs," he whispered against her lips.

She splayed her thighs, and he teased her wet folds with a single fingertip. "Wider," he demanded. Once again she did as he bade, her ragged breaths warming his face. She clutched at his shoulders and lifted her hips, and another groan escaped her, this one ending with his name.

"Gideon…"

"Shhhh," he whispered against her ear.

"I… ohhhh, my… I can't. I feel as if I'm going to scream."

"If you do, you'll bring the entire household down upon us." He lifted his head and looked into her glazed eyes. "Neither of us wants that." God knows he didn't. He wasn't nearly done with her.

She pressed her lips together. "I'll try to be quiet but-ohhhh-you're making it extremely difficult." She glided her hand down his chest, over his abdomen, and his muscles jumped. "I want to touch you, too."

He pressed his erection against her hip to thwart her eager hand. Bloody hell, it was all he could do not to come as it was. One touch from her, and he'd explode in a heartbeat.

"Not now," he said against her lips. He eased one finger into her tight sheath to distract her and had to grit his teeth to contain the growl that rose in his throat. By God, she was tight. And so damn wet. And hot. And soft. And he was so damn hard he was going to lose his mind. More, damn it. He wanted more. Now. Now.

He slipped his hand from her body and, ignoring her sound of protest, moved to kneel between her splayed thighs. Heart pounding as if he'd sprinted to Bow Street and back, he impatiently pushed her gown up to her waist. Quickly unfastened her drawers. Grimly noted that his hands were far from steady.

Desperate need unlike anything he'd ever experienced grabbed him in a vise. He yanked her thin cotton drawers down and off her legs, not pausing or caring when the delicate material tore. If he'd had the mind to do so, he would have been appalled at his lack of control, but he was beyond caring about anything save the dark, wild, reckless need clawing at him.

The instant he'd tossed aside her ruined drawers, he set his hands on her raised knees and urged her legs apart. Damp golden curls surrounded her glistening sex. He inhaled sharply at the sight, and his head filled with the musky tang of her arousal mixed with the intoxicating scent of vanilla. Bloody hell, it was the most delicious fragrance he'd ever smelled. Slipping his hands beneath her, he raised her hips and dipped his head.

Julianne bit her lips together to stifle the cry of surprise and shocking carnal pleasure that begged to escape. The sight of Gideon's dark head buried between her thighs alone was enough to wring a shout of delight from her. But what he was doing with his mouth… his lips… dear God, his tongue. His fingers. All of them relentless. Teasing, licking, flicking, delving, driving her mad. Helpless to do otherwise, she undulated against his mouth, desperately seeking more of the addictive pleasure. Her hands fisted against the carpet, her body tightening, coiling, straining, searching for an answer that remained just out of reach.

Then he performed some sort of magic with his fingers and mouth, and it was as if she'd been tossed into a storm of indescribable pleasure. An endless moan she couldn't contain escaped her as pulsing sensation engulfed her. When the spasms subsided, she lay gasping, boneless, dazed, her breaths coming in short, ragged puffs. Dear God, now she knew precisely what a few swipes of the tongue could accomplish.

Magic.

She felt Gideon gently lower her legs to the rug where they simply splayed open in utter, lax abandon. Felt him shift to lean over her, then his warm hand cupping her face. The pad of his thumb slowly brushing over her bottom lip.

"Julianne."

Her name breezed across her face, and with an effort she dragged her heavy eyelids open. And found herself staring into dark, intense eyes that seemed to reach inside and touch her soul.

She raised an unsteady hand and brushed back the dark lock of hair that fell across his furrowed brow. And murmured the word that had haunted her every thought for the past two months. "Gideon."

"Are you… all right?"

"I'm… I don't quite know how to describe it." She traced her fingers over the stark panes of his face, marveling even more at the fact that she could touch him so freely than at the extraordinary way he'd made her feel. "Utterly limp, but in the most delightful way."

"I didn't hurt you?"

"No." Worry suffused her. "Did I hurt you?"

A whiff of amusement entered his eyes. Leaning down, he brushed his mouth over hers. "No. You were…" He lifted his head, and his gaze drifted slowly over her. When his eyes met hers once more all traces of humor were gone. "Perfect," he whispered. "You were perfect. But-"

She laid her fingers on his lips, halting his words. "Please don't say you're sorry this happened. Because I'm not."

He lightly grasped her wrist and after pressing a quick kiss to her palm, moved her hand away. "Very well, I won't say I'm sorry. But that doesn't change the fact that it shouldn't have happened."

He abruptly sat up. Without ceremony he reached out and tugged up her bodice over her breasts that felt swollen and sensitive. Once she was covered, he stood then helped her do the same. She felt slightly unsteady on her feet and grasped the mantel for support.

Frowning, he bent down and scooped up her ripped drawers along with a handful of hairpins then shook his head. Muttered something that sounded very much like, What the bloody hell was I thinking? and raked his free hand through his hair. "We need to set you back to rights," he said in a low, urgent tone. "Now. Before anyone comes-"

A low woof from the doorway chopped off his words. They both turned. Caesar was on his feet, staring intently down the corridor. Princess Buttercup stood beside him, giving her best imitation of a fierce growl. Above the canine noise Julianne heard the unmistakable sound of her mother's imperious voice.

"…cannot credit that such a disturbance occurred, Winslow."

"You should have sent for us immediately." Her father's icy words followed by his heavy footfalls crossing the foyer's marble floor sent her stomach careening toward her shoes.

In the blink of an eye Gideon shoved her ruined drawers inside his shirt, then plucked her up and set her on the settee where she landed with a bounce.

He tossed the hairpins onto her lap. "Shove those into your hair," he commanded in a low, taut voice. "Doesn't matter if it's messy."

Trying not to panic, she scooped up her tangled curls and stabbed in pins while he snatched up his waistcoat. He jabbed his arms through the openings and buttoned it with a steady-fingered dexterity she couldn't help but admire, especially as she was shaking all over.

As he shrugged into his jacket, he ordered, "Swoon. And be damn convincing about it."

Swoon? Why, she'd never swooned in her life! But one look at his tight expression had her understanding his command. She nodded and quickly arranged herself on the settee.

Peeking one eye open, she watched him stride across the room and lay a hand on Caesar, who stopped growling at his master's touch.

"Winslow, fetch some hartshorn," Gideon called, his voice filled with urgency as he ran into the corridor. "Quickly! Lady Julianne has fainted. Ah, Lady Gatesbourne, how fortunate you're here. I'm afraid I've little experience in these matters."

Rapid footsteps approached. Julianne heard her mother gasp and her father mutter, "Ridiculous, foolish gel."

Seconds later Julianne's mother patted her cheeks in a none-too-gentle manner. "What happened?" her mother asked in a sharp voice. "Winslow told us in the foyer what occurred this evening but said Julianne seemed quite recovered."

"She did," Gideon said. "We were drinking tea, and all seemed well, but when we began discussing the evening's events, she became agitated. Said something about feeling utterly limp, then just like that"-he snapped his fingers-"she went down like a tenpin. I tried to revive her, but she didn't respond. That's when I dashed into the corridor for Winslow."

Just then Julianne heard a breathless Winslow rush into the room. "Here's the hartshorn, my lady."

Julianne had managed to remain unresponsive while her mother tapped her face, shook her shoulders, and rubbed her wrists, but one whiff of the powerfully unpleasant hartshorn had her nose twitching in protest. Putting on what she prayed was a convincing performance, she rolled her head from side to side, enough, she prayed, to explain her disheveled coif. Then she groaned and blinked her eyes open.

"She's come around," her mother said, passing the hartshorn back to Winslow. "Bring some damp cloths and a glass of water," she instructed the butler who instantly departed to do her bidding. Her mother then turned her attention back to Julianne. "Are you all right?"

Julianne blinked several more times then frowned. "Of course, Mother. How are you?"

"Very well. However, I am not the one who swooned."

Julianne widened her eyes. "Swooned? Me?"

Mother nodded and pursed her lips. "I'm afraid so."

"Surely not. I never swoon."

"Well, you did. If you could see yourself you'd know it's true." Her mother's appraising gaze swept over her. "You look a fright."

Julianne raised her hand and slowly pushed back a wayward curl. "How… distressing." She cast her gaze around the room, noting her father's thunderous scowl, then looked at Gideon.

"Mr. Mayne. What are you doing here?"

Gideon's dark eyes gave away nothing. "You don't recall?" Pressing her fingertips to her temple, Julianne puckered her brow. Then she nodded slowly. "Yes… of course. How silly of me. We were drinking tea. Then suddenly I felt utterly limp." Her gazed panned over everyone. "And then all of you were staring at me."

Winslow returned, and Julianne's mother placed a damp cloth on her forehead then helped her sit up and drink some water. After several sips her father asked, "Are you recovered enough to walk, Julianne?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"Good." He turned to his wife. "See that Julianne is settled in bed. I wish to speak to Mr. Mayne privately."

Nerves jittered in Julianne's midsection at her father's words and frigid tone. Her gaze flew to Gideon, but his attention was fixed on her father.

"As the intruder tried to enter Lady Julianne's bedchamber via her balcony," Gideon said, "she should not sleep there until this man is apprehended. Given the intruder's apparent dexterity, there should be no balcony or trees near the window nor should it adjoin to a room with either. Lady Julianne indicated there was such a bedchamber two doors down from hers."

"The blue guest room," her mother murmured. "Very well, I'll bring her there." She turned to the butler. "Winslow, see that the room is prepared."

"Yes, my lady."

Winslow departed, and with her mother's assistance, Julianne rose. When her mother attempted to take her arm, Julianne shook her head. "Thank you, but I'm quite all right."

In spite of Julianne's protest, her mother wrapped her fingers firmly around Julianne's upper arm. "Let's not take any chances. After all, we can't risk you falling down and injuring yourself. Especially now."

Julianne's insides curdled. Especially now. Yes-when her betrothal and marriage were imminent. Certainly couldn't have the bride sporting any bruises or a sprained ankle or broken leg.

Anxious to forestall any mention of her upcoming nuptials, she turned to Gideon and looked into those dark, fathomless eyes. "Thank you for all you did for me this evening, Mr. Mayne. I'll never forget it."

His features appeared hewn of stone. He inclined his head and said in an emotionless tone, "It was nothing, Lady Julianne."

His words froze her. Was that merely his way of saying you're welcome-or was he trying to tell her the intimacies they'd shared had meant nothing to him? She longed to search his eyes for some clue to his feelings, but he'd already looked away from her.

With a heavy heart she allowed her mother to lead her from the room. As they passed her father, his scowling gaze raked over her from head to foot. He then turned to stare at Gideon with a narrow-eyed expression clearly meant to freeze the Runner where he stood. The unmistakable suspicion in that expression made her blood run cold.

Dear God, did Father suspect something less than innocent had taken place between her and Gideon in the drawing room?

Gideon held Lord Gatesbourne's frigid glare and waited for the earl to speak. Years of practice allowed him to project an outwardly calm demeanor, but it was one at complete odds with his inner turmoil.

Bloody hell. What in God's name had come over him? Now that he could think clearly again, he was shocked by his own actions. He was not a reckless man. His greatest assets were his strength and his control. They'd saved him more times than he cared to recall. Against his enemies. Hardened criminals. Thieves and murderers. Yet somehow he'd let a mere slip of a woman, with bottomless blue eyes that reflected such a compelling combination of hope and heartbreak, knock his legs out from under him. In a way no one ever had before. In a way that both confused and alarmed him. In a way he would have wagered all he owned-modest though that was-was impossible.

Yet, there he'd been, legless. Lost in her. Mindless. Heedless of everything and everyone but her. And apparently helpless to stop it. Double bloody hell.

He had to get out of this house. Away from her. Away from this investigation. He needed to catch the bastard he was after and put an end to this. Get back to his life. And forget about her. As quickly as possible. Before he lost his bloody mind. Or his control again.

Finally Lord Gatesbourne spoke. "I'll have your account of this evening's occurrence, Mayne."

"Of course." He related the events in a calm, precise manner, leaving out nothing except the part where he'd lifted Julianne's skirts and rendered her utterly limp.

"I see," said the earl when Gideon finished his recitation. "So you didn't see this man yourself."

"No."

"In fact no one saw him except my fanciful daughter. Who has also heard moans that no one else heard."

There was no missing the earl's insinuation, and Gideon shook his head. "Given the evidence of the footprints under the tree, there's no doubt someone tried to gain access to Lady Julianne's bedchamber, my lord. I saw her immediately afterward. Her terror was genuine. Plus, do not forget the threatening note found in Lady Julianne's bedchamber and the fact that I discovered the very same window where she saw the intruder unlocked this afternoon."

The earl made a disgusted sound and muttered something about wretched timing that Gideon didn't quite catch.

"I beg your pardon, my lord?"

"Nothing." The earl's eyes took on another layer of frost. "That being the case, I'd like to know how this knife-wielding intruder gained access to my daughter's balcony after I hired you to patrol the grounds."

"With such a vast area to cover, it was unfortunately impossible for me to be everywhere at once."

"And why were you not out looking for this scoundrel when the countess and I arrived home?"

"Your daughter suffered a terrible fright. Given there was no trail to follow beyond the mews, I thought it best to remain here and insure Lady Julianne's safety until you returned."

"And you insured her safety by drinking tea and eating biscuits?"

Gideon's gaze didn't waver. "I insured her safety by first making certain all the entrances to the house were secured then not letting her out of my sight. If anyone had been foolish enough to attempt to harm her in my presence, they would have had to get through me-and Caesar-first. And I assure you they would not have succeeded."

The earl jerked his head toward the doorway where Caesar stood at attention. "I take it that large beast is Caesar?"

"Yes. He is a skilled guard dog and has helped me apprehend dozens of criminals."

The earl's scowl deepened, and he commenced pacing in front of the fire. A full minute passed before he stopped directly in front of Gideon. "No harm can come to my daughter," he said fiercely.

A frisson of relief worked its way through Gideon. Finally the man showed some warmth toward Julianne and appeared genuinely concerned for her safety.

"As time is short, you're my best chance to make certain Julianne is kept safe," the earl continued. "Therefore I want to hire you to guard her. You'll follow her everywhere, although it's probably best that she not go about too much. You'll stay here, in the house, and make sure no harm befalls her."

Gideon's every muscle tensed. His first instinct was to flatly refuse. Guard her? Follow her everywhere? Stay here? Bloody hell, he'd go mad. Even more disturbing, however, was the thought that he'd fail to resist her, as he had so spectacularly tonight. The way she stripped him of his control appalled him. Angered him. Indeed, it actually frightened him.

He could tell himself that now that he'd touched her, knew the feel and taste of her, knew that she smelled like vanilla-everywhere-his curiosity and appetite for her was appeased. But he'd be lying to himself. Because the knowledge of her scent and feel and touch had appeased nothing. No, instead it had served only to inflame him further, to make him want her more. This desire for her… it went beyond mere hunger. It was a ravenous craving. He didn't want to merely hold her, touch her, kiss her. He wanted to devour her. Brand himself on her. Touch her so deeply, make her his so profoundly and thoroughly, he'd haunt her every thought. The way she haunted his.

And he couldn't understand why. Obviously he desired her. Bloody hell, what breathing man wouldn't? He'd experienced desire. Lust. Had experienced pleasure with his share of women. Yet as steamy as those encounters had been, they now seemed tepid in comparison to the heat Julianne inspired. Julianne brought out something in him he didn't understand. Something, for the first time in his life, he hadn't been able to control. And wasn't certain he'd have the strength to control in the future. That was very bad-for both of them. It meant he needed to stay far, far away from her and her irresistible allure.

But how could he refuse to protect her? If he did, and something happened to her, he'd never forgive himself. Yet neither could he trust himself. For both their sakes he had to refuse.

"There are other Runners who could-" he began, but the earl cut him off with an impatient flick of his hand.

"From what I hear, you're the best, and I'll have nothing less."

"I appreciate that, but I cannot-"

"I'll make it worth your while financially." The earl named an amount that nearly matched Gideon's yearly Bow Street salary. And therefore raised his suspicions.

"That's a great deal of money," Gideon said.

"It is worth a great deal that my daughter remain safe for the next fortnight."

Gideon's brows rose. "Just the next fortnight? What about after that?"

"Even if the culprit hasn't been apprehended by then, your services will no longer be required beyond that point, as Julianne will no longer be living in London or be my responsibility."

"And why is that?"

"Because she will be married to the Duke of Eastling. And living in Cornwall. And therefore Eastling's responsibility."