The prince of pleasure

Chapter Three

Dare shifted uneasily in the carriage seat, cursing the hot blood that stirred in his loins. His fierce arousal had taken him by surprise. He'd intended to exercise more control.

And he would have, if not for Julienne's instinctive feminine response to his nearness. He'd seen the blank daze of desire in her eyes, sensed the subtle changes in her body as she parted her lips in expectation of his kiss.

He'd had to veil the shock of raw need that ran through him. In sheer self-defense, he'd taken the first action that came to mind-swung her up in his arms and carried her out to his waiting carriage.

But being alone with her in the seclusion of the town coach had an even more profound effect on his body, rousing his cravings to a painful ache.

Involuntarily Dare cast a glance at Julienne as she sat staring silently out the window, her patrician countenance in profile. She was everything he remembered and more. In the muted light from the outer carriage lamps, her dark hair shone richly, flowing in heavy, silken waves over her shoulders. His gaze wandered to her bosom, where several curls lay in teasing disarray. Even now he had to fight the urge to move closer and bury his face in the luxurious mass, to slide his arms around her, to stroke those luscious breasts…

Dare swore again silently, feeling a surge of resentment that she had remained so alluring… that she still had the power to make him feel so much.

He'd been wholly determined to resist her, yet at her sensual response, memory had come rushing back to overwhelm him-every taste, every touch, every sensation, every yearning he'd thought forcibly buried deep in his heart, out of reach.

Perhaps his pursuit of her was a mistake. He had launched the first salvo in his game, declaring his intention to win her, but Julienne had proved just as enterprising, catching him off guard with her daring vow to bring him to his knees.

She had already done so once before, Dare reminded himself, setting his jaw. He would have to proceed with caution if he hoped to emerge from this contest with his heart intact.

His only satisfaction was that Julienne appeared to be as agitated as he was. She viewed him with wariness and mistrust, obviously, as if she feared his retribution. But he knew very well that her apprehension hadn't prevented her from remembering the passion that had once burned between them, or kept her from wanting him.

Beside him, Julienne was having similar thoughts. It dismayed her, how helpless she had been against Dare's brazen tactics. After setting her aquiver with longing, purposely kindling her desire with his nearness, he had suddenly doused the flame he'd created and roused her indignation at the same stroke; he had literally swept her off her feet and carried her from the theater to the delight of numerous gawking bystanders.

The nerve of the rogue, causing such a spectacle! He was exasperating, maddening, unsettling-although she had to admire his ingenious determination. Dare was single-minded when it came to getting what he wanted.

And he had won their first skirmish, Julienne had to admit. If he hadn't trapped her by his wager in front of a gleeful London audience, if he hadn't virtually abducted her, she would not be here with him now.

It was one thing to engage in a public battle of wits with Dare; it was another entirely to be secluded with him for the intimacy of a late-night supper. But she could manage to abide his company for an evening, Julienne silently promised herself. They were merely partaking of a meal. She was experienced enough now to keep Dare emotionally distant. And this was her chance to prove to herself that she was over him.

More critically, she could prove to Dare that she had the ability to resist him. The sooner he realized she would never surrender, the sooner he would give up his attempt at revenge.

I won't succumb to him. I won't.

By repeating that mantra over and over again, Julienne was able to restore some measure of her shaken confidence. Yet she couldn't help her heart beating in anticipation as the carriage slowed to a halt.

Her fierce awareness of Dare only increased when he helped her down. And when he pressed a hand to the small of her back, guiding her toward the entrance stairs, she gave a start at the instant warmth that sprang up inside her, deploring how she was affected by the casual contact.

She would have to do better if she hoped to win this encounter.

It was a private gentlemen's club, Julienne noted, not certain whether she should be relieved. She had half expected Dare to take her to one of his notorious dens of iniquity where, according to the scandal sheets that chronicled his wicked deeds, he conducted his orgies and other debauched entertainments.

They were greeted by a majordomo and led upstairs to an even more private chamber, lavishly but tastefully decorated. Candles glittered in gold sconces on the walls, reflecting the sparkle of china and crystal on the small, damask-covered dining table, while a cozy fire burned in the hearth, casting an intimate glow over the entire room.

As she expected, the scene was set for seduction. One wall was partially concealed by a crimson brocade curtain, but Julienne could see an alcove in the shadows, with a bed large enough for two.

Heat spread through her at the thought of sharing that bed with Dare.

The majordomo seated her at the table and then withdrew, to her regret. To her further discomfort, Dare took the chair beside her rather than opposite her.

"I must warn you," Julienne remarked lightly as he inspected the variety of wines on the table. "You are laboring under a misapprehension. Despite whatever machinations you have planned for tonight, you will not succeed."

His smile came easily. "I never anticipate failure before I have even begun."

Julienne felt a spark of dismay flare inside her at his smooth response. The facile charm was automatic, effortless, and highly potent. Dare still had the power to affect her without the least effort. She wondered how she would endure an entire evening in his company, with him so near and so clearly set on prevailing.

His tone remained teasing as he poured a glass of wine. "I think it poor-spirited of you, cherie, not to give me a fighting chance. Or perhaps merely fainthearted. You are afraid I will win."

"Hardly." Julienne managed a laugh. "I am more afraid I will do you an injury when you continue to persecute me."

"Try this vintage," he suggested. "It comes from Languedoc."

Where her late father's estates had been before his execution, she thought, wincing. Julienne did as she was bid, however, and found the wine delicious.

"The food here is excellent," Dare said, observing her approving expression. "You will appreciate it. The chef is Parisian." At her surprised glance, he added, "Did you think I would forget your fondness for French cuisine?"

She returned a smile that was faintly taunting. "Truthfully, I don't think of you at all."

"I cannot say the same of you," he replied lazily.

He leaned back in his chair, exhibiting his usual elegant grace, but Julienne found it difficult to show the same casual ease. She was too conscious of Dare. His gilded hair glimmered in the candlelight, its soft, thick waves threaded riotously with gold and flaxen. Worse, she kept seeing images of her fingers gliding through it, and images of his fingers reciprocating.

Involuntarily she glanced down at his hands, which held a wine goblet, almost caressing the stem, and an inexplicable yearning Filled her. She could almost feel those warm, deft hands on her skin…

"It has been a long time," he murmured, startling her with his perceptiveness.

"Not long enough for my tastes," she rejoined, feigning nonchalance yet glad that the dimness of the room concealed her flush.

She was even more relieved when a discreet knock on the door heralded the entrance of supper, served by two footmen. There were several courses: clear partridge soup with truffles, braised ham, trout in tomato and garlic sauce, peas, creamed artichoke hearts, sweetbreads, prawns, fricassee of veal with Madeira sauce, and finally preserved cherries and plum pudding.

Every dish was delectable, but Julienne barely tasted any of them. Her attention kept straying to her companion… those arresting green eyes, the well-shaped, sensual mouth…

Don't think about his mouth, she ordered herself. Don't think about those firm, warm lips that made you shiver with passion. The seductive lips that had given and had taken so much pleasure. That wicked, heart-stopping smile that could lure a woman's soul from her body.

That smile had always been Dare's greatest asset. Or perhaps it was his remarkable way of looking at a woman. He focused such thrilling intensity on his target that she felt incredibly desirable.

As he was doing now, Julienne realized. He was watching her as if engrossed, despite the presence of the two footmen. She managed to bear his scrutiny until he dismissed the servers at the conclusion of the meal, leaving her alone with him.

"Did no one ever tell you it is ill-mannered to stare?" she asked, invoking a cool smile.

He grinned, his bearing relaxed. "Can I help but be fascinated by someone of your dazzling beauty? You intoxicate me."

"No doubt because the wine has gone to your head."

He measured her in a slow, exacting way, obviously determined to tear holes in the thin facade of her composure. "So what you have been doing with yourself all these years, mademoiselle?"

Her smile slipped, and she took a sip of wine, reluctant to answer. "I would rather you address me as Miss Laurent. I prefer not to call attention to the fact that I am French."

"Very well… darling." Amusement laced the edge of his voice, but his tone remained curious. "Your trace of an accent is no longer noticeable. Is that by design?"

"Yes," Julienne admitted. "It wasn't healthy for my acting career. The English consider themselves far superior to anyone of French origin and dislike any reminders of our differences."

"Our dislike of the French might have something to do with their despot who is bent on world domination," Dare said blandly.

She could have pointed out that many of her compatriots detested Napoleon Bonaparte far more than the British did, but she didn't intend to debate the issue with Dare.

Steepling his long fingers, he continued to watch her with that disconcerting gaze, although he changed the subject. "Tell me… are you sharing your bed with any of those puppies who were panting at your skirts tonight?"

Julienne drew a sharp breath at the boldness of the question. "That, I believe, is none of your concern."

"I simply want to know who my competition is. It is hard to tell whom you prefer most from among all the fops and swells surrounding you. From what I've observed, I would guess Riddingham. Is he my chief rival?"

Julienne allowed her lips to curve drolly and refused to reply.

"I should think you would prefer a real man to warm your bed," Dare remarked. "But if I recall correctly, you are not overly particular about your bed partners." The sudden caustic note in his voice suggested censure.

Calling on all her willpower, Julienne affected an expression of detachment and arched an eyebrow. "I find it incredible that the most profligate libertine in London would presume to judge my choices. From all reports, you have never been discriminating about the lovers you amuse yourself with. Or how many you have, for that matter."

"Oh, no, I am exceedingly discriminating. At least I am now. There was a time after you…" His gaze remained fixed on her, slowly shredding her nerves. "After you, Jewel, I didn't much care who I bedded. I was only intent in burying my pain in pleasures of the flesh."

She didn't respond to that admission, either, Dare noted. "It took me a long while to get over your cruelty, cherie."

Some emotion flickered in her eyes, something vulnerable and too fleeting for him to identify. Then she lowered her gaze, her lashes dark against her ivory skin.

"In fact, I could say that you were the one who set me on my path to wickedness."

Julienne lifted her chin at that, her expression skeptical. "You can hardly blame me for your licentiousness. You were a rake long before we met."

"But you were not so chaste yourself, I'll warrant. And I expect you've indulged in a liaison or two since then."

"One or two," she said evenly. "But I know precisely how many lovers I have had. I'm certain you cannot make the same claim, Lord Wolverton."

"Once you called me Dare."

"Once I called you a great many things." That siren's smile flickered on her lips. "I can think of a few choice appellations just now. Reprobate, hedonist, libertine."

Dare affected a grimace. "One thing definitely has changed. Your claws have grown sharper."

"Perhaps. But I will need sharp claws if I hope to defend myself against you."

He frowned slightly. "I suspect I'm the one who will have to defend himself. If memory serves, the last time I encountered you, you were welcoming the caresses of another man. Behind my back, I might add. While leading me to believe that I was your heart's desire." His mouth curled. "Oh, but I was your desire, as long as I was heir to a fortune."

Hearing his bitterness, Julienne stared down into her wineglass. Dare believed she was an accomplished liar. That she could make love to him so passionately one moment and then betray him the next with his rival.

A tightness constricted her throat. She'd had a compelling reason to lie all those years ago. She had thought she had no choice. But she didn't deserve Dare's hatred. She had suffered more than he knew. Perhaps if he understood what she had endured, he wouldn't be so eager for revenge…

She lifted her gaze to Dare's, and their eyes locked, the dark past vibrating between them. Pain lashed through her at the cold expression on his face, and Julienne realized the futility of pleading with him for forgiveness.

Perhaps if he had simply asked her for the truth, if two hours ago he hadn't publicly demonstrated his utter desire to humiliate her, she might have risked reopening those savage wounds.

But there was no point now in trying to justify her long-ago actions. It no longer mattered what Dare thought of her. She couldn't undo the devastation, the loss-for either of them. And the truth could have unwanted consequences. No doubt Dare would feel pity for her. And guilt. He might even feel obliged to make amends.

She couldn't allow herself to become tangled up with Dare again, certainly not on those terms. That kind of pain would destroy her. It had taken her years to get beyond the past, and now she only wanted to forget.

No, Julienne concluded, it would be better if Dare continued to believe she had betrayed him. That she had never loved him. She wouldn't protest her innocence, despite his barbs about her being cruel and mercenary.

Instead she would play his game, assume the role he had assigned her. She would keep her responses light and pretend that he no longer had the power to hurt her.

It was an effort to smile, but Julienne managed it with careless elegance, all the while thinking that she had never appreciated her abilities as an actress so much.

"You may think what you choose," she said, "but I have long since forgotten that unpleasant episode. I have no intention of discussing it."

Dare felt a stab of annoyance at her dismissal, but he decided that harping on the subject would only make him seem a spoiled child. "How did you happen to become an actress?" he asked instead.

"Some of us are required to work for a living, my lord."

"You couldn't persuade Ivers to keep you?"

A fleeting look of desolation entered her eyes, but that momentary fragility faded as quickly as it had come. "He offered," she responded without inflection, "but I chose not to accept."

Dare wondered if Julienne was telling the truth- if she had refused the earl's offer because his pockets weren't overly full-or if Ivers had abandoned her because their scheme for gaining the Wolverton fortune had failed. "He couldn't provide you enough compensation?"

Her faint laugh held little mirth. "Indeed, he couldn't. His gaming debts had severely depleted his purse. And I needed a reliable income to support my mother. Her illness grew worse as summer ended."

"What of your shop? Didn't that produce an adequate enough income?" Dare asked, remembering their familiar arguments that summer.

Julienne had claimed that the millinery was her sole means of income and that until their marriage was settled, she couldn't afford to neglect it. Dare had offered to purchase the shop and turn it over to her clerk so she wouldn't be obliged to earn her living, but Julienne had refused, saying she wouldn't take his charity or become his kept mistress-which was why they had gone to such lengths to keep their trysts private. Later, he'd realized she had simply been holding out until she could secure his entire fortune.

When her reply came, however, it surprised him.

"The business did not fare well after…" Julienne lifted her gaze almost defiantly. "Your grandfather made several unfounded allegations against me. I left Kent to avoid the scandal and turned the shop over to our clerk."

Dare's frown deepened as he thought back to those wretched weeks after Julienne's betrayal. He hadn't known what happened to her. He hadn't wanted to know. He'd left Kent immediately and had never again returned to Whitstable. Nor had he ever set foot in Wolverton Hall until his grandfather was dead and buried.

But he shouldn't be feeling this sharp prick of guilt now. Julienne had brought her troubles on herself with her duplicity and lies.

"And your mother?" he asked at length.

"She died several years ago." Julienne's eyes shadowed in sad remembrance. "I wanted her to live with me in York, but Maman wouldn't hear of moving elsewhere. She disliked leaving all her friends."

Dare nodded, remembering the close-knit community of French emigres in Whitstable. When the Laurents had fled the terror of the guillotine, they'd settled on the northeastern shore of Kent, near the bustling resort towns of Marsgate and Ramsgate, where they could enjoy the company of other exiled French nobles.

"She refused," Julienne added softly, "to be driven from her home once again."

As she had been during the Revolution, Dare completed the thought. An unexpected wave of tenderness took him by surprise, but he drew back from it abruptly, wary of leaving himself too vulnerable.

"I am sorry," he said with cursory politeness.

Julienne's gaze searched his face, holding an edge of doubt. "Thank you."

He reached for his wineglass and drained the last swallows. "I wasn't sorry when my grandfather died, though. The old bastard held on until just last year."

Julienne looked abruptly away, but not before Dare saw the hot glitter in her eyes. It was raw, naked hatred, he realized.

He hadn't expected her to share his venomous sentiments toward the late marquess. But perhaps she blamed his grandfather for ruining her life. It was certainly true that if not for the old man's threat to disinherit him, Julienne's future might have turned out very differently. His own as well, Dare reflected. He would have wed her, never suspecting her true nature until it was too late.

"You have evidently done well for yourself since then," he said finally. "But there are easier ways to earn a living than acting. I presume you are not planning to tread the boards forever?"

"No, not forever."

"Is that why you intend to take a protector? To raise your income?"

Her smile seemed forced, although her tone remained light. "You may have compelled me to have supper with you, my lord, but I don't believe I agreed to submit to an interrogation."

"When you make your choice, I very much want it to be me."

"Unfortunately," she said sweetly, "you cannot always have everything you want. You have had everyone bowing and scraping before you since the day you were born, and it has obviously given you an exaggerated estimation of your self-worth."

"I know my financial worth, at least. And I am prepared to be extremely generous. I'll triple your usual remuneration. What is it you want? House, carriage, jewelry, allowance?"

Her eyes kindled with amusement. "I am not for sale, Lord Wolverton. I will be no man's plaything, most especially not yours. If I take a protector, I assure you, it will not be you."

"I wonder what it will take for you to change your mind?"

"I wonder why you are so set on having me, after our distasteful past? Revenge is a petty motive, after all. I should think you would consider it beneath you."

"I'm not interested in revenge," he replied with less than total honesty. "I'm merely intrigued by the thrill of the chase."

"You mean to say that you are utterly bored with your indolent life and you require me to provide your entertainment?"

"Perhaps. I admit, I have never known a moment's boredom with you, Jewel."

"Only because I am able to resist you."

"But for how long?" He gave her his most charming smile. "I will contrive to forgive you for your stubbornness, love, but you are only postponing the inevitable. Sooner or later I'll have you again." Intentionally he glanced at the curtained alcove. "It might as well be tonight. Why waste this ideal setting?"

Humor tugged at the corners of her mouth. "I will not go to bed with you, Dare."

"Who needs a bed? Before the fireplace there will do quite nicely. You would look luscious spread out on a sable fur, completely nude."

He heard her sharp intake of breath at his deliberate provocation. Reaching out, he lifted a curling tress from her breast. Her hair was glorious, rich and vibrant in color, thick and silky to the touch. The softness and fragrant scent teased him as he brought it to his lips.

Stiffening, Julienne drew back and raised an eyebrow.

Assuming a look of pure innocence, Dare surveyed her. "Rumor has it that you are cold-blooded as a lover, but I know differently. I know what a pretense that icy facade is, Jewel. I know how hot you can get… How hot I can make you. How a single stroke of my fingers across your stomach makes you quiver. One touch of your delicious sex and you grow wet."

With a graceful shrug, she returned an arch smile. "I told you, I am not the same green girl I was. It takes a great deal more to arouse me now."

Heat coursed through Dare at her words, at the implied challenge. He couldn't say the same; it had taken very little to arouse him tonight.

He hadn't expected to make love to her this evening. Merely to stake his claim. But he should have known the effect Julienne would have on him. How inflamed he would become by their duel of wills. The exhilaration of matching wits with her again was a stronger aphrodisiac than any drug. And the temptation to do more than provoke her was overwhelming. In truth, he had visions of throwing her down on the table, tearing her clothes off, and tasting that body he'd yearned for so much, so long ago.

His jaw clenched against the hot flood of arousal that the image induced. He couldn't remember ever hurting this much for a woman, or wanting one more. And he doubted Julienne was as indifferent as she pretended. He recognized her sexual response with a connoisseur's eye.

"Shall we put your resistance to the test?" he asked softly.

With effort Julienne met his gaze, her feelings a confusion of wanting and not wanting. It unsettled her deeply, Dare's arrogant presumption of victory. Unsettled and vexed her.

But he would not win, she promised silently. She would not make his revenge easy, letting him ride roughshod over her. She would do everything in her power to protect herself from his calculating schemes. If forced to, she would call upon a few seductive skills of her own to defend herself.

Measuring Dare, she took a sip of wine, wondering if she could hope for any better outcome. It would be supremely satisfying to beat the Prince of Pleasure at his own game-to make him fall in love with her and break his heart, as she'd publicly vowed. Regrettably, though, she didn't hold any faith in her ability to carry out her part of the wager. Dare North had long been immune to female schemes to ensnare his heart.

But if he meant to torment her, she would show him that she was his match. She was an actress. She could play the role of a femme fatale.

She wouldn't let it get out of hand, of course. She would merely arouse Dare's lust and leave him panting for more. And when she walked away dispassionately, he would begin to understand that she would never be his conquest.

Relieved to have made a decision that would allow her to take the offensive, Julienne let a tempting smile wreathe her lips. "Why not?"

She saw the instant flare of heat in his eyes and hoped that she wasn't making an irrevocable mistake.

For a long moment their eyes held. Then, taking her hand, Dare slowly turned it over and placed a kiss on the inner side of her wrist. His light caress made her tremble. Next, his lips moved over her palm, his tongue flicking the sensitive skin, and it was all she could do not to pull away.

His breath scorched her fingers as his lips moved to the tips. When he suckled the middle one, a heavy ache flowered low in her abdomen.

"I should warn you," he murmured, his voice husky. "I've learned a few things since I last knew you."

"I can imagine," she said, her own voice dismayingly breathless.

His eyes would not free her from their intensity. To her surprise, though, he released her hand and stood. Going to the door, he locked it, then returned to her side and set the key on the table, along with the wineglass he took from her.

Time, dangerous with the undercurrents of passion, seemed to hang motionless as he stared down at her.

Her heart thudding, Julienne rose unsteadily to face Dare, unwilling to allow him the advantage. Her legs were weaker than she thought, and she leaned one hip against the table for support.

"Well?" he asked, the lazy drawl filled with challenge.

Holding his stare with bold, cool poise, she reached to unfasten the hooks at her back, slipping down first the bodice of her merino gown, then her chemise. Her breasts spilled out above the white cambric. Offering him a smile, she turned and rested her hands behind her on the table, an elegant courtesan's gesture.

His mouth twisted crookedly. "So you mean to tempt me with your luscious body?"

"Let us see who can summon the greater resistance."

"As you wish," he said, his eyes alive with delighted interest.

With one foot he shoved her chair out of his way and stepped closer, his regard moving with leisurely thoroughness over her. A pulsing began deep inside Julienne in response to his heated gaze.

She managed to conceal her quivering excitement when he slowly drew a finger along the line of her collarbone, then traced a path between her breasts. But when he reached out to cup one curving swell, Julienne felt her heart leap.

With a knowing look, Dare splayed both hands over the ripe fullness of her breasts. Her nipples tightened shamefully, responding to his wicked teasing. His thumbs caressed the rosy peaks until they were distended and hard, and Julienne had to bite her lip to keep from pleading with him to stop the torment. She didn't want him to stop. She wanted to press herself against him, wanted Dare to soothe the delicious ache he was creating.

As if he could read her mind, he took her by the arms and drew her against his chest. The full shock of his hard, supple body went through her. He was all honed muscle and lean strength-and he was wholly aroused. She could feel his rigid erection even through their layers of clothing.

She drew a steadying breath, trembling with need. She felt feverishly hot where her body was held tight against his, excruciatingly sensitive where her bare breasts rubbed the brocade fabric of his waistcoat. Yet every instinct she possessed told her Dare was fighting the same urgent need.

His own breath was rapid as he dipped his head. His lips moved against her throat, then skimmed upward over her jaw, her cheekbone. "Kiss me, Julienne," he whispered, the words like velvet on her skin.

He gave her no chance to refuse. Instead he claimed her mouth, his lips soft and rough in turn.

His kiss was shatteringly familiar. She opened for him, shuddering beneath the raw force of his passion, but he didn't seem satisfied. He slanted his mouth to deepen the kiss further, his tongue sliding in heated, sinuous rhythm within her mouth, awakening her mind and body from their coldly held reserve.

She felt as though he were drinking the breath from her. Julienne shivered uncontrollably. The bold press of his heated loins was making her weak; her soft, secret flesh melted with sleek moisture, even as a warning voice clamored in her mind, telling her to beware.

It was a struggle to remember the femme fatale role she had intended to play. Her breath was coming in soft pants when she finally pushed him away.

At least she was having the effect she wanted, she saw. A dark flush of desire stained Dare's high cheekbones, while his eyes were hot and glittering. Frowning, he raised an eyebrow, as if to demand an explanation for her delay.

Deliberately Julienne glanced down at the swelling bulge at his groin. His breeches stretched taut, concealing his straining manhood. With a siren's smile, she reached out to brush her fingers over the placket, letting her hand fondle his hardness beneath the white satin.

She heard Dare stifle a groan, saw his jaw clench. "Keep that up and we might not reach the bed."

"As you said, who needs a bed?"

Requiring no further invitation, Dare reached down to unbutton his breeches and drawers. Desire burned in his eyes as he released his swollen male flesh. Instantly his arousal jerked upward against his belly, pulsing and erect.

Julienne caught her breath at the sight of him, huge and urgent, her gaze riveted. She badly wanted to touch him, to caress the thick, satiny length, the velvety pouch of his heavy testicles…

Evidently Dare wanted her just as badly. With visible impatience he leaned around her and pushed the dishes and crystal back to give them room. Then he lifted her up and set her on the edge of the table.

Julienne tried desperately to conceal her own treacherous excitement as he pulled up her skirts slowly, baring her to his gaze. It had been so long…

A streaking heat shuddered through her as he stared at the dark curls crowning the apex of her thighs, at the plump folds of female flesh already moist with her own need. His own gaze remained riveted as he reached down to caress her.

All her muscles clenched at the lazy stroke of his hand along her inner thigh. She felt her breath coming short and shallow as his fingers searched out the womanly softness of her-and it faltered sharply as he slid them against her honeyed crease.

"I would say you are thoroughly aroused now," he murmured.

She could feel her will weakening, but when his fingers brushed more boldly, Julienne caught his wrist, staying his hand.

Dare's gaze narrowed on hers. His hand was still between her legs, cupping possessively. "Do you still insist on denying you want me?"

She couldn't bring herself to lie. "No," she whispered.

"Part your legs wider." It was a low, throaty command, one she wanted to obey. She shut her eyes briefly at the wild excitement coursing through her, steeling herself against the burning warmth that flowed from the palm of his hand. When his fingers gently probed her slick cleft and slid inside, she arched against him. Then his caresses became more rhythmic, and she imagined that it was Dare's magnificent arousal thrusting deep inside her…

She tried to stifle a whimper, but it escaped her. In answer, Dare stepped between her spread thighs, his intent clear.

You should stop him, a desperate warning voice urged. But the blood was pounding in her veins, stirring a fiery heat within her. She couldn't form a protest when he gripped his swollen member and eased the silken head into her quivering flesh.

Julienne gasped at the enormous, pulsing size of him. He was shockingly hard, filling her to bursting.

When he swelled upward into her clinging heat, she tried to writhe away from him, but his hands prevented her, holding her hips still. A faint smile curving his sensual mouth, he withdrew his long shaft almost completely, until she moaned aloud with the loss.

Then he surged into her again, making her softly cry out his name.

It took only one more slow plunge to set her aflame. When he delved even deeper, burying himself inside her in another demanding stroke, Julienne gave in to the ravening hunger. Softening helplessly against him, she began to answer his thrusting hips, matching his pace and his sweet, relentless rhythm.

A sob welled in her throat at the primal force building inside her. It was elemental, primitive, and Dare was using all his skill to drive her even higher. She glimpsed him as her head fell back in surrender; his teeth were clenched, his handsome features contorted with pain and pleasure as he rocked her against him.

Then rapture engulfed her. She gripped his arms fiercely as an incoherent sound of panic sounded from her throat, but his mouth captured her scream. Wildly she dug her nails into his muscles as she erupted in a fiery, shimmering explosion, but Dare responded ruthlessly, his straining thighs forcing hers even wider to prolong her ecstasy.

The powerful convulsions left her so dazed, she could only cling to Dare as he drove himself to his own convulsive climax. When his throes of passion finally diminished, she sagged against him, exhausted.

The tremors faded slowly. She could still feel him pulsing within her own sated flesh, could hear his heart hammering beneath her cheek.

When finally he pulled away, leaving her tender and aching, she could have wept.

He was silent for a moment as he fastened his breeches.

"I think we should call this a draw," he observed impassively, his voice husky yet without inflection of any kind.

Julienne stiffened, suddenly realizing what she had just allowed to happen. Her mind spinning, she glanced down at her wanton dishevelment and drew a sharp breath, aghast. Sweet heaven.

Flushing with shame, she pushed down her skirts and fumbled to straighten her chemise and bodice. She could feel Dare's gaze on her, yet she looked anywhere but at him. She felt stripped bare of all defenses, her emotions naked and exposed.

Dear God, what had she done? She hadn't expected their lovemaking to go all the way, hadn't meant for their passion to flare out of control. She had only intended to tease Dare, to torment him as he was set on doing to her. She hadn't wanted him to win so effortlessly.

Her stomach wrenched. Dare had called this battle a draw, but he had gotten precisely what he wanted-her panting and moaning with desire for him. Damn him.

And damn her.

Despising herself, Julienne stole a glance at him. Was he feeling the same profound regret that she was?

He didn't seem happy about their carnal lapse. His face was expressionless, with no indication of the dismay that was swamping her, but at least there was no sign of triumph, either.

Then he spoke.

"Come, darling, I will take you home," he drawled, a cynical glint in his eye that mocked them both.

Julienne flinched, unable to protect herself against the pain that sliced through her at his casual dismissal. All she could do was curse herself for acting the fool.

The same witless, love-hungry fool she had been seven years ago.