The prince of pleasure

Chapter Six

It was a large party that left London the following Friday. Julienne found herself surprised at the assortment of guests Dare had chosen. There were some two dozen of them, of varying ages and classes.

Of the females, she suspected at least three were demireps, including a noted actress who regularly performed at Covent Garden. But there were also some older ladies in addition to Madame Brogard, one of whom was a dowager countess. Most surprising were the two genteel wedded couples he had invited-to add respectability to the party, Julienne concluded.

As for the gentlemen, they were mostly members of the Quality. Several were high-ranking noblemen who seemed to be close acquaintances of Dare's-doubtless some of his Hellfire colleagues-while Viscount Riddingham had brought two of his friends. Bringing up the rear of the parade of vehicles were three coaches full of servants.

Julienne had no maid of her own. Normally she shared an arrangement with several other actresses at Drury Lane, dividing the services of a woman who functioned as dresser, seamstress, laundress, and wardrobe mistress. But Solange had offered the use of her own lady's maid during the house party.

The March day was crisp and clear and quite pleasant. Many of the gentlemen, including Dare, rode beside the carriages for the trip south, but Julienne was very glad not to be forced to endure his company in the intimate confines of a post chaise.

Instead she found herself enjoying the camaraderie of several of the ladies. Amazingly they seemed to accept her with little reservation, perhaps because of Solange's distinguished reputation. Or perhaps because anyone who was on familiar terms with the scandalous Dare North wouldn't recoil at knowing a mere actress.

They made the trip in easy stages, stopping frequently to change horses and partake of refreshments, and arrived in the late afternoon.

For the past ten miles, Julienne had admired the picturesque view of the rolling South Downs, but now they turned between iron entrance gates onto a rhododendron-lined drive and drove through an artfully landscaped park.

"C'est magnifique," Solange murmured, and Julienne had to agree: across a sweeping expanse of lawns stood a majestic mansion of mellow red brick, gleaming in the sunlight.

Seeing the splendor of Dare's estate gave her a stark reminder of the vast difference in their stations-a rich nobleman who had inherited his family fortune and a barely respectable actress who'd always had to struggle for her living.

As the passengers disembarked, she was told by one of the ladies that beyond these cultivated grounds lay beautiful gardens. And one of the gentlemen spoke up, remarking on Dare's superb racing stables.

"Racing stables?" Julienne asked Viscount Riddingham, who had appeared at her side to offer his arm.

"Wolverton breeds and raises racehorses," he replied rather stiffly.

Dare's friend Lord Peter Fulbrook added affably, "Not just any racehorses. Dare has some of the best horseflesh in the country."

"I confess I am eager to inspect his stables," Riddingham admitted. "Reportedly he has two Derby prospects."

Julienne smiled. "Is that why you accepted his invitation, my lord? To view his horses? And to think I flattered myself that you wished to be with me."

The viscount returned a sheepish grin. "But of course, Miss Laurent. The stables were merely an added inducement."

Julienne caught the narrow glance Dare gave her and was inwardly heartened. Part of her plan was to encourage Lord Riddingham as much as possible this week. If this house party was to be a competition for her favors, then she intended to see that Dare had a satisfactory rival.

She was glad, however, that he didn't single her out in particular when he turned the guests over to his staff to be settled in their rooms. It was agreed that they would enjoy a short rest before dinner and then meet in the drawing room at eight o'clock.

The interior of the house was just as magnificent as the exterior, Julienne saw as she was led upstairs to an elegant bedchamber. She took the opportunity to admire the splendid gardens below her window before she bathed and changed with the help of Solange's maid.

By the time she made her way to the drawing room on the lower floor, she was a few minutes late and most of the company had already gathered.

At her entrance, Dare felt his pulse leap. Julienne wore an apricot silk gown of stunning elegance, and the low-cut bodice caressed her figure as lovingly as he longed to do.

He muttered a silent oath, deploring not only his body's reaction but the unbidden eagerness that filled his chest.

All the gentlemen who were seated came quickly to their feet in appreciation of her dazzling beauty. When she apologized for her tardiness, Riddingham answered for them all. "No apologies necessary, Miss Laurent. You are worth waiting for. You make a most fetching sight."

She looked far better than simply fetching, devil take her, Dare thought. Despite his every intention, his gaze fastened hungrily on her. That dress was worse than being naked. Julienne looked utterly female, lush and fragile at the same time.

Her dark hair was piled high on her head with a casual artistry that made him yearn to destroy it. He clenched his jaw as he had an unbidden vision of her glorious hair spilled in splendid disarray across silken pillows. He wanted nothing more than to strip her naked, exposing her entire body to his gaze… to his hands and mouth. The mere thought of having her bare breasts in his hands, then sucking them till she moaned, made him instantly hard.

But first he would have to chase away the damned wolves surrounding her. Riddingham led the pack, Dare saw with disapproval. The bloody cur was eyeing her chest, pausing brazenly on the soft, swelling fullness of her bosom.

Just then Julienne laughed at something the viscount said, and Dare felt himself tense with jealousy.

A moment later, though, she turned and caught his own gaze. When she met his deliberate stare, his brow lifted mockingly. Yet he wasn't able to discompose her. Instead the look Julienne returned was cool, self-possessed, and full of challenge.

They were the eyes of a woman who knew her power, Dare realized.

A stab of desire shot through him so raw, so hot that all he could do was wait for the savage ache to ease.

Turning away then, Julienne gave him the elegant line of her back. Her obvious dismissal filled him with frustration. They were playing at seduction, but he was no longer confident of winning the game at which he was so expert. He'd spent countless sleepless nights since having her, lying in bed alone, aching for her. Nor was his body all that ached. The painful tightness in his chest was the throbbing of an old reopened wound.

Dare ground his teeth together. For nearly seven years he had ruthlessly sealed away the part of him that Julienne had left savagely lacerated and bleeding. He would do so again if it took his last ounce of strength.

Julienne had difficulty enjoying the next few hours, even though she wasn't required to endure Dare's close proximity. He accompanied the ranking female guest-the dowager countess-in to dinner and sat at the head of the table, while Julienne was seated much farther down.

The repast was sumptuous, with five courses and dozens of removes, and even the highly discriminating Solange praised the fare. Reportedly Dare had sent his London chef ahead days earlier to prepare for his guests' arrival. But Julienne was too conscious of the awkwardness of her position here at his home to do justice to the feast. Everyone present, she knew, had heard of the wager. And whether or not she was to provide the entertainment for the week, her relationship with Dare was sure to be the focus of all eyes.

She did her best, however, to give her attention to her dinner partners. The one on her right was one of Riddingham's friends, a soft-spoken gentleman named Martin Perrine. His pleasant, self-deprecating manner contrasted sharply with that of Riddingham's other friend, Sir Stephen Ormsby.

When the talk turned to horse racing, Julienne politely asked Mr. Perrine if he was involved in the Turf.

Sir Stephen laughed and answered for him. "Martin is a younger son with no prospects to speak of. He can scarcely afford the cost of a hired hack, much less a string of racehorses."

Mr. Perrine's pained expression was one of acute embarrassment, and Julienne hastened to reply. "I understand that only the wealthiest nabobs can afford the expense of racing. To my mind, it seems a shocking waste. I suppose that is why it is called the sport of kings."

Perrine's forced smile held a hint of gratitude, and Julienne soon changed the subject. Yet she couldn't help glancing at the nobleman at the head of the table. Dare could easily have been mistaken for royalty with his aristocratic countenance. That high brow and classic bone structure belonged to the prince in a fairy tale. And he was reputed to be one of the wealthiest men in the kingdom. He could well afford a lengthy battle between them, bribing her associates and purchasing her time for outrageous sums.

Julienne felt a sharp twinge of dismay as she wondered yet again how she could possibly defend herself against Dare with her own meager resources.

She was glad when the ladies repaired to the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to their port, but her respite was short-lived since the gentlemen soon joined them.

When someone suggested they have some music, Julienne found herself approached by Lord Riddingham. "You sing like an angel, Miss Laurent. Will you do us the honor?"

She glanced up at Dare, who had moved to stand near her chair. He had offered her a huge sum to attend his house party, but they hadn't actually discussed the terms of her employment.

Resuming her assigned role, she gave him a provocative smile. "So, Lord Wolverton, am I to sing for my supper?" she asked, a challenging edge to her voice.

"Not unless you wish to."

"I believe I shall decline then. I prefer to devote my energies to winning our wager."

Dare's mouth curved in his notorious, wicked grin.

"I look forward to your performance with great anticipation."

Riddingham looked from her to Dare, evidently feeling the sudden sexual tension that crackled between the two of them, and hastened to intervene. "It is just as well, I expect. None of the ladies wish to be outshone by you, Miss Laurent."

Several of the ladies did indeed look relieved when Julienne chose to play cards. They took turns performing on the pianoforte and singing, while the rest of the company made up several tables of whist and one of piquet.

That dinner set the tone for the house party's evening entertainments, but during the next few days, numerous other amusements were offered for their pleasure: riding, playing pall-mall and battledore on the lawns, strolling through the magnificent gardens, and an historical excursion to the local ancient hill forts and shafts where flint arrowheads were once mined.

The gentlemen in particular were anxious to view Dare's prime horseflesh and rose early each morning to watch his racers at their training gallops. They were preparing for the 2000 Guineas to be run at Newmarket in May and the Derby at Epsom Downs in early June.

The first half of the week, Julienne did her best to maintain her public battle with Dare but tried never to be alone with him, determined to avoid repeating the regrettable sexual intimacy of their last private encounter.

Yet evading him proved surprisingly easy. He performed his duties as host with impeccable grace and charm. And to the delight of his guests, he flirted with her outrageously, his rakish wit keeping Julienne constantly on her toes. But he made no effort to seduce her or lure her into seclusion as she expected.

His strategy bewildered her a little. She didn't believe for one moment that he had given up the chase. Dare was a master of subtle manipulation. She suspected he meant to lull her into a false sense of security-but if so, it wasn't working. His delay merely heightened her tension.

She felt on edge in Dare's presence and far too aware of the heat that shimmered in her veins at his merest glance. And when he was absent, she found her heart beating in anticipation of seeing him again. Worse were the charged emotions that kept surfacing between them at the least instigation.

When the party partook of an alfresco picnic on Monday, Julienne couldn't help contrasting the formality of it with the simple picnics she had once enjoyed with Dare. Nor could she forget the scorching memories of the last time they had dined out-of-doors together, when Dare had been far more interested in devouring her skin than the fare.

Now a long table had been set up by servants beneath a beech tree and covered with a pristine white cloth, while footmen served numerous delicacies on china plates and wine from crystal goblets. The blankets upon which the guests lounged seemed the only remnants of those days.

Except perhaps Dare himself. His hair shone with the same flaxen brilliance in the sunshine, his smile was just as wicked when he laughed, his gaze just as compelling.

She found that gaze fixed on her when Solange complimented him on the magnificence of his estate.

"I confess," he replied with a bow of acknowledgement, "I am rather fond of it myself. I purchased the property some years ago when I was looking to set up my racing stables. I much prefer this residence to the family seat I inherited from my grandfather. Wolverton Hall holds several unpleasant memories for me… particularly of the last summer I was there."

His gaze locked with Julienne's for a moment, and she felt herself wince at his unspoken accusation.

Her first defensive thought was that Dare would never have inherited his grandfather's estate if she had eloped with him as he'd asked her to. But it hurt too much to remember that magical summer that had ended in such devastation for her.

Pasting a smile on her face, Julienne rose abruptly. "I can certainly understand the appeal of this lovely setting." She gestured toward the stream that meandered nearby. "I wonder if there are any fish to be seen. Lord Riddingham, would you be so kind as to escort me there?"

She took the viscount's proffered arm, yet she couldn't dismiss Dare so easily. She was much too conscious of his magnetism and his studied neglect of her. For the remainder of the afternoon, he gave his undivided attention to his other guests.

And the ladies at least responded with delight. Julienne watched his performance with growing frustration.

It irked her, the way he tantalized all the females in the party with his careless, seductive charm. And the way they all fawned over him in return. Yet she couldn't fault them. Dare North was the most seductive, fascinating man she had ever known, and she found herself wishing she could be the focus of his devout attention instead of all the others-

When she suddenly realized the direction of her thoughts, Julienne scolded herself furiously. She would not be jealous of his lovers or she would go mad.

It was the following day when she intentionally violated her own plan to avoid him in private. The company went riding that afternoon, and during their return, her horse threw a shoe and came up lame. Julienne dismounted at once, as did Dare. Upon inspecting the animal's leg and hoof, he pronounced the injury merely a bruised sole and told the party to ride on ahead while he led the mare home.

When Julienne hesitated, Riddingham offered to let her ride double with him, but Dare intervened quickly, offering his mount.

She allowed Dare to lift her up on his horse but then changed her mind, saying that she disliked abandoning Lord Wolverton.

When Riddingham started to argue, she shook her head gently. "No, please, Hugh, go on ahead. I will come to no harm. I trust Lord Wolverton can act the gentleman for a brief while. And I have something I wish to say to him, in any case."

When the party obliged, leaving them alone, she felt Dare's gaze settle on her.

"Hugh, is it? So you're on a first-name basis with Riddingham?"

Julienne shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "We have had an excellent opportunity to become better acquainted over the past few days."

"I can't fathom why you spend so much of your time with him when you would enjoy yourself far more with me."

"That is certainly a matter for debate."

Dare didn't reply to her jibe at first but instead coaxed the injured horse forward with a flow of soothing words. Julienne brought her mount alongside, matching the mare's slow, painful steps, but listened with dismay. Dare might have been speaking to a lover with his velvet-edged voice. In fact, she could remember him using precisely that tone with her during a soul-wrenching bout of passion as he cooled the flames and then urged her on to even greater heights.

When after a moment he turned his attention from the injured mare and glanced up at her, she was certain he saw the flush on her cheeks.

"At last," he said in a casual tone. "I am gratified finally to have you to myself. If I'd known all it would take was a lame horse, I might have sacrificed one of my beasts sooner. I've had the very devil of a time trying to steal you away from your devotees." His gaze slid down her body. Her petticoats were hiked up, exposing a good deal of leg, since she was riding astride instead of sidesaddle. "I can't fault them. Every man wants to bask in your beauty."

"I don't care to hear your empty flattery, my lord," Julienne replied as she stirred uneasily in the saddle.

Dare apparently noticed her discomfort. "Would you prefer to walk?"

"Actually, I would. I have never been much of a horsewoman."

"I remember. But you are safer up there, out of reach." He let his remark sink in before adding, "So what did you wish to say to me that isn't fit for the ears of my guests?"

"I should like to know what you are up to."

"What do you mean?"

Julienne looked down at him in appraisal. "You went to a great deal of trouble and expense to coerce me here, and yet you have made no attempts at seduction since my arrival. I feel like a mouse under the cat's paw, waiting to be devoured."

"And here I thought I deserved some credit for showing restraint and not making a nuisance of myself." He raised an eyebrow. "What? Did you expect I would bring you here and assault you? That I would have my wicked way with you in front of all my guests?"

"I certainly would not put it past you."

Dare smiled that celebrated smile, devastating and suggestive. "My deepest apologies if you are feeling neglected, cherie. If you will climb down from that horse, I will be most happy to apply my best efforts at seduction."

She wanted to deny that she was feeling neglected, but absurdly it was true. She would tread over hot coals, however, before she allowed Dare to know it. "I don't wish you to seduce me. It is simply that I don't trust you. I think you are planning something, and I would like to know what it is."

At her remark about trust, his mouth tightened momentarily, making Julienne regret her choice of words.

Taking a steadying breath, she tempered her complaint. "You have comported yourself as such a gentleman recently that I scarcely recognize you. I keep waiting for you to show your true colors. I thought you intended to win our wager."

"Oh, I do," he said with infuriating smugness. "But allow me to point out that you've made no significant effort to win our wager yourself. What has stopped you? It would take little more than a glance to have me drooling at your feet like those other dim-witted saps. You could have me quaking with just a touch."

The image of Dare shuddering in her arms was wholly arousing and infinitely disturbing, and so was his next remark.

"What do you say that I visit your rooms tonight? We could take up where we left off two weeks ago, but this time we would enjoy a comfortable bed. I assure you, it would vastly improve my mood. I'm finding that celibacy doesn't agree with me in the slightest. It not only has a gravely deleterious effect on my spirits but on my body as well. I feel as if I'm on fire all the time."

Strangely, Julienne felt a measure of relief at his offer. This was the Dare North she knew-lustful, seductive, and oh so tempting. But no matter how he had just bolstered her flagging self-esteem with his unexpected admissions, she didn't intend to repeat her mistake of two weeks ago by letting him make love to her.

"Do you know, I believe I will ride on ahead after all," she observed, gathering the reins.

"Coward," he murmured, amusement lacing his voice.

"Not at all," Julienne retorted in a dulcet tone. "I am merely weary of listening to your tedious propositions."

As she spurred her mount forward, she heard Dare's soft laughter following her. But whatever guilt she might have felt for abandoning him dissipated when shortly she passed a groom leading a fresh horse for him.

When she arrived at his residence, she was told by the august butler that the other guests had gathered in the drawing room for tea. Julienne went upstairs to her bedchamber to change her riding habit, but once she had done so, she suddenly found herself reluctant to face the company.

Flinging herself on her bed, she lay staring up at the canopy overhead, feeling restless and dissatisfied and more melancholy than she had any right to feel. It dismayed her how Dare could hold such power over her, no matter what he said or did.

After another quarter hour, however, she finally rose and left her bedchamber, intending to go below to join the company.

She froze when she spied Dare farther down the corridor. He was still in his riding clothes, and he had just emerged from a bedchamber that was not his own.

Dare froze as well. He had expected Julienne to be with the others. He'd paid the Covent Garden actress Fanny Upcott to keep Riddingham occupied while he searched the viscount's room, looking for any incriminating evidence. It was unfortunate that Julienne had discovered him in the act.

Dare set his jaw, knowing he could either try to bluff his way out or risk telling her the truth.

Still weighing the decision, he moved toward her.

"I suppose you have a good reason for being in Lord Riddingham's bedchamber?" she remarked when he reached her.

Meeting her puzzled gaze, he raised an eyebrow.

"How do you know which bedchamber belongs to Riddingham?"

"Because I've seen him entering it before. And pray don't think to avoid my question by changing the subject. What were you doing in there? You are far too wealthy to steal his possessions." When Dare hesitated, Julienne added tartly, "I doubt you want me to tell him that you have been rifling through his belongings."

It was clearly a threat, one that rankled Dare. Thinking to intimidate her, he stepped closer and braced one hand on the wall behind Julienne, deliberately crowding her. He could feel her soft bosom against his chest, her thighs pressed hard against his, and the sudden ache in his loins grew and spread to the rest of his body. Even more deliberately he reached up to splay his hand between her breasts and felt her heart jump against his palm.

Julienne did indeed feel intimidated. The neckline of her afternoon gown was not immodestly low, but she deplored the intensely wicked sensation of Dare's warm hand through the fabric, of his fingers brushing her skin above the bodice.

Taken aback, she stared at the sleek gold column of his throat and the pulse that beat there. Absurdly she wanted to bury her face in the curve in his neck and taste him.

Then he bent his head to nibble her lower lip. Every inch of their bodies touched, scorching her. Without volition, she parted her lips.

"Kiss me, Julienne," he murmured in his husky lover's voice. "Kiss like you mean it. Mold your lips to mine… plunge your tongue into my mouth…"

A moan welled up in her throat as he proceeded to show her what he wanted. Her lips burned beneath his deep, penetrating kiss, while her body turned molten. Yet even then, her mind was protesting violently, trying to comprehend the reason for his sudden sensual assault.

He was merely attempting to distract her… That was it, she thought, suddenly furious at his underhanded tactics.

Her heart hammered as she tore her mouth away. "How dare you-" she began, struggling to elude his grasp, but his mouth clamped down on hers, smothering her angry words.

Flames fanned out over her body, burning her, inciting her as his arms came around her. Somehow, though, she found the strength of will to resist his seduction. Her head reeling, she forced her hands between them and shoved at Dare's chest, finally making him break his hold and his kiss.

"Stop it! Just stop!" Her breath ragged, she glared up at him. "I want to know what the devil you were doing in those rooms."

His lips were still moist from kissing her, and she saw them press together in a tight line. "I'll tell you, but not here in the hall."

Opening her bedchamber door, he pushed her through and followed, shutting them in together.

Suddenly feeling skittish about being here alone with Dare, Julienne moved halfway across the room, out of reach.

"Well?" she demanded, still breathless.

"Riddingham could be a traitor," he said simply.

She stared at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Last year a nobleman calling himself Caliban wreaked havoc on our war efforts, smuggling stolen gold to Napoleon…"

Julienne listened in astonishment as Dare told her a shocking tale of murder and blackmail, and about the hunt for Caliban and a ruby-eyed dragon ring. That Dare himself might be involved in trying to rid the country of a traitor had been the furthest conceivable thing from her mind.

"And you think Riddingham might be Caliban?" she said slowly at the conclusion of his story.

Where his gaze had been guarded before, Dare's eyes were now narrowed, watching her reaction. "He has the ring… although he claims to have won it at piquet. It's possible Caliban decided that keeping so unique an ornament in his possession was dangerous. He might have deliberately palmed it off on Riddingham to divert attention from himself, to throw us off the scent."

She frowned, hesitating to believe such accusations without proof. Seven years ago she herself had been unjustly accused of treason by Dare's grandfather, and she would never leap to condemn anyone else, no matter how strong the suspicions.

"Somehow I find it hard to believe that Riddingham could be a mastermind of espionage. He is quite genial and possesses exquisite manners, but I don't consider him particularly clever. I should think a traitor of the caliber you're suggesting would have sharper wits than I've seen of his."

"I've had similar thoughts," Dare replied. "But he's our only link to Caliban, and I have to follow his trail, no matter how far-fetched."

"Why you? I am frankly astounded that you would be involved in playing spy."

"Worthless fribble that I am?"

Julienne felt her cheeks flush. "I didn't say that. But you are known as the Prince of Pleasure. Your part in this seems just as far-fetched as Riddingham's."

"All the more reason for me to be the one to investigate him-because he is unlikely to suspect me. In fact, I invited him here so I could keep a close eye on him."

A startling thought struck Julienne like a blow; it took her breath away. "Is that why you decided to pursue me? So you could watch Riddingham?"

Dare's expression was shuttered. "Initially, perhaps. But he's no longer the sole reason. Once we made our wager, I realized how badly I wanted to win it."

Her thoughts whirling, Julienne raised a hand to her temple.

"Actually this house party allowed me to observe some of Riddingham's friends as well," Dare added. "He professes that both Ormsby and Perrine were in game when he won the ring. But nothing in their behavior thus far supports the possibility of either of them being Caliban. And I've searched their rooms and found nothing questionable."

Julienne still didn't respond as she tried to take in his extraordinary revelation: Dare had used her to get closer to his real target. Their entire wager had been a ploy from the beginning.

"So do you intend to warn Riddingham of my suspicions?" Dare asked when she was silent.

"Of course not," she said absently.

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You will have to forget this conversation ever took place. If you begin treating Riddingham any differently, you could give the game away."

Julienne's chin came up at that. "You don't need to instruct me how to play a role. I am an excellent actress."

"I know," he drawled mockingly, yet she couldn't help hearing the edge of bitterness in his tone.

When she gave him a sharp glance, he returned a dark stare, his gaze hot, piercing, accusatory. Suddenly Julienne was unbearably aware of the intimacy of being here alone with him.

"You needn't worry that I will give you away," she assured Dare as she brushed past him. "I plan to maintain the ridiculous charade of our wager."

She was about to open the door when his strong arms reached out to draw her back.

Julienne held herself rigid, not daring to breathe. "Let me go, please."

But Dare didn't release her. Instead his arms came around her shoulders. Her pulse leaping, Julienne bit her lip, deploring the way his physical presence engulfed her senses.

"It isn't a charade," he murmured. "I still want you, Jewel."

His breath stirred her hair and sent chills all over her. Even as she shivered, his warm hands slipped inside her bodice and began to play tantalizingly with her nipples.

Julienne squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the instinctive desire to flee for her life-and the deeper desire to surrender to his caresses. She wanted to melt against his warmth…

"My beautiful Jewel," he whispered in that erotic, masculine voice that never failed to bring her senses alive.

Oh, God, she thought, aching as his tongue traced the shell of her ear. His fingers tightened on her stiffened nipples, and she caught her lip between her teeth as a fiery spasm of pleasure shot down to her lower abdomen.

She shook her head, struggling desperately against her long-stemmed hunger. She hungered for physical warmth, for Dare.

"I want you," he repeated. "I want you hot and wild and burning with desire for me." His whisper filled her mind, his words a rich promise, husky, lavish with sensuality. "Say you want me, too, Julienne."

She did want him. She had been alone so long. She craved the intimacy of Dare's touch, needed it…

Whimpering softly, she arched against his arousing fingers. His seductive caresses were scorching her, shaking her resolve, shredding her will… reminding her of all he could make her feel, of all the pleasure he could give her, all the devastating hurt-

Her throat constricted at the stab of remembered pain.

"No," Julienne protested, her whisper wild and low. "I don't want this, Dare. I don't want you."

Drawing a shaky breath, she wrenched herself away, then pulled open the door and fled.

Alone, his arms empty, Dare shut his eyes and cursed. His senses still swam with the elusive essence that was unmistakably Julienne's; his body still ached for her. He was hard and hotter than hell.

He could almost feel the wet heat of her surrounding him, feel her gliding tightly around his throbbing shaft…

Yet despite his body's discomfort, the fierce ache in his chest had somehow eased. Julienne had seemed completely taken aback by his revelations about Caliban and his reasons for searching Riddingham's rooms. She didn't appear to be in league with either one of them.

Dare ran a hand roughly though his hair. If she was indeed a confederate of Caliban's, then he had just put himself in grave danger. And if she went running to Riddingham, she would prove her guilt. But at least it would end his uncertainty about her.

He felt a muscle flex in his jaw. Julienne was a consummate actress, true, but his instincts told him she wasn't lying. Which meant she was likely innocent of duplicity.

A pity, Dare thought darkly, feeling an unexpected stab of regret. Her guilt might have freed him of his obsession with her, helped him to break the chains that still held him enraptured.

And if she was innocent? Even before now it had occurred to him that if he dragged her into his investigations, Julienne herself could be in danger from Caliban.

For an instant, the sickening image flashed through his mind of the dead companion's body…

Dare shook his head adamantly. Julienne Laurent could take care of herself. He was the one who was in peril-of succumbing to her insidious allure.

Sardonically, he glanced down at his breeches. His guests would be expecting him, but he couldn't very well face them in this condition. He needed a change of clothing at a minimum. And as he let himself from Julienne's bedchamber, Dare wondered if he had time to take a cold bath as well.