Dangerous to Love (4 page)

He fell on her and rolled with her on the bed. Subduing her easily with the press of his body, he rose above her. “Have done with your games. I am Julian. You are Victoria. I am your protector. You are my mistress. Yield to me, sweeting.”

Bought and paid for—that was what was in his mind. She was aware of something else. He didn’t want to hurt or humiliate her. He wanted to have his way with her. He thought he had that right.

He wasn’t moving, or forcing his caresses on her. He was simply holding her, watching her with an unfathomable expression. “Julian,” she whispered, giving him his
name in an attempt to soften him. “Victoria Noble is not my real name.”

“I didn’t think it was,” he said, and kissed her.

His mouth was gentle; his tongue caressing, slipping between her teeth, not deeply, not threateningly, but inviting her to participate in the kiss. For a moment, curiosity held her spellbound. She had never been kissed like this before. It was like sinking into a bath of spiced wine. It was sweet and intoxicating, just like the taste of him.

Shivering, she pulled out of the embrace and stared up at him. His brows were raised, questioning her. All she need do was tell him her name and he would let her go. She never doubted it for a moment.

Something else was at work in her, something that made her hesitate. She was twenty-three years old and no man had held her like this before, kissed her like this, looked at her as he looked at her. Love and marriage had passed her by. Though she’d had suitors in plenty, when they discovered she had no dowry, they melted away. She would never know a lover’s embrace, never share a lover’s kisses. She was a maiden aunt, and that was all she could ever hope to be. What harm could there be in a few stolen kisses? He was an attractive, virile male. Any woman would be proud to have him for her lover. She didn’t want a lover, only a few stolen kisses.

“Kiss me, Victoria,” he said.

Victoria.
How easy it would be if only she really were Victoria. Victoria could do whatever she wanted, be whatever she wanted. There were no restraints on Victoria. If only .  .  . oh, if only.

Her head was buzzing with all the wine she had drunk, and she closed her eyes trying to get a grip on herself.

When his mouth settled on hers, she splayed her hands over his arms, restraining him. Beneath the sensitive pads of her fingertips, powerful masculine muscles bunched
and clenched. For an instant, only an instant, she gave in to the temptation to run her hands along that warm, smooth skin. As the kiss lingered, her ringers glided over his broad shoulders, along the strong column of his neck, and became lost in the rich texture of his hair. Deep inside her, she felt the stir of something sweet and wanton.

His lips traced over her face; his teeth nibbled, then nipped. She knew she was smiling. She hadn’t known kisses could be like this. He was playing with her. Not to be outdone, she ran her lips over his shoulders, absorbing his scent and flavor. He tasted of fresh air and windswept nights, and something dark and forbidden.

She closed her eyes as whisper-soft kisses drifted from the corner of her mouth to the tips of her breasts. When his lips closed around one tender nipple, she made a small inarticulate sound. He groaned, and brought his head up, kissing her fiercely, possessively, demanding she surrender everything to him.

The sudden flood of pleasure was so shocking that Serena’s whole body went slack. Her hands clenched and unclenched around his shoulders, trying to convey her distress. She could not get command of her breathing. Her head was spinning. She was sure she was going to faint. There was something hovering at the edge of her consciousness, but she could not hold on to it, did not want to hold on to it. In the space of a few seconds, every sensible thought dissolved and slipped away.

She was beyond caring when his hands drifted over her, divesting her of her garments one by one. She lay on the mattress, twisting restlessly, trying to get closer to him. Shivering with pleasure, she wound her arms around his neck and pressed abandoned kisses to his face and shoulders.

When she felt his fingers probing her there, between
her thighs, she cried out, and her head came off the pillow.

“What is it, Victoria?”

His breath was warm upon her skin. His hands soothed, pressing her back into the mattress. She felt the rigid thrust of his shaft on her thigh, and she looked about her, bewildered, as though she were awakening from a dream.

“What is it, Victoria?” he repeated. His lips brushed her eyes, then her mouth.

“I .  .  .” She wasn’t Victoria. She was Serena.
Serena!
Chilled and shocked, she stared at him.

“Come back to me,” he murmured, and winding his hand around her hair, he gently tugged her down.

“I am not Victoria.” Her voice was no more than a shaken whisper. She was still shuddering in the aftermath of the sensual onslaught, still trying to come to herself. Tears squeezed from beneath her lashes as guilt and shame rushed in to scourge her. How could she, Serena Ward, have allowed things to come so far? How could a few stolen kisses have led to this? She was naked, in a strange bed, with a strange man. He touched her again, intimately, and panic rose in her.

Her hands moved to his shoulders, restraining him. “Julian, please,” she implored, “please?”

“So soon, my love?” There was a smile in his voice.

“I can’t .  .  .” She shook her head.

For a moment, she thought her words had made an impression on him. He levered himself up, relieving her of some of his weight. She heard the hiss of his breath as he inhaled deeply, then rational thought shattered as his body imposed itself upon hers.

Her hoarse cry of pain was lost beneath his smothering kiss. She bucked and kicked out, trying to dislodge him; her nails raked his shoulders. Her pathetic attempt at
resistance was to no purpose, but seemed only to increase his ardor. Locking her to him in an inflexible embrace, he quickened his movements, driving into her, submerging her in an unfamiliar world where the senses held sway, and though she remained unmoved by it, she knew in her own self it was because she had willed it so.

Some time was to pass before Julian released her. “I’ve never had your like before,” he said. “No woman has ever made me want to master her.”

Shivering, aching, Serena closed her eyes, shutting out the sight of him. What a fool she had been to think she could use him for her own purposes. What folly to think she could be Victoria and do whatever she wanted. She wasn’t anything like Victoria. She was a product of her upbringing. She was a Ward, a
Ward,
and if her poor mother could see her now, she would turn in her grave.

It was so unjust. She had not wanted things to go this far. She had tried to tell him, but he wouldn’t listen. She might as well have tried to turn back the tide as restrain Julian Raynor in the throes of passion. That was the trouble, of course. She had not known the first thing about a man’s passion, had not known that a few stolen kisses could lead so quickly to mindless delight. She had left it too late, and she had paid the price for her folly.

He kissed her softly. “You don’t regret it?”

She wanted to lash out at him but had not the will nor the energy. What would be the use? The worst had already happened. All she wanted was to find some quiet sanctuary where she could sort out her thoughts on the catastrophe that had overtaken her.

“No,” she said tonelessly.

Pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder, he said, “Go to sleep. We’ll talk later.”

Silently, she rolled to her side, away from him, listening
to the sound of his breathing, waiting for sleep to claim him so that she could slip away.

   She moved fretfully, brushing at the hand that was kneading the underswell of one sensitive breast. The hand persisted. Opening her eyes, Serena looked down. With a gasping cry of horror, she hauled herself up. His back was propped against the pillows, a lazy, wicked smile tugged at his lips. Light streamed through the window, but it was the feeble light of early dawn.

Gritting her teeth, she flung herself from the bed, and went in search of her discarded garments. Ignoring the damage that had been inflicted by uncaring masculine hands, she quickly donned them, keeping a wary eye on the man in the bed.

Julian yawned, stretching his arms wide. Muscles bunched and rippled across his powerful torso as he laced his fingers behind his neck. The threat that Serena had sensed in him from the first moment she had set eyes on him was no longer there. With the foolish grin on his face and the relaxed posture, he put her in mind of a well-fed feline.

“You were a virgin,” he said, pleasure evident in every syllable he uttered.

Serena fumbled with the tapes of her petticoat, and her head came up. “And that pleases you?” she asked incredulously. Even the rakes and roués in her set were known to be scrupulous in their treatment of virgins.

“Naturally, it pleases me, though I hardly expected it. You are no green girl, are you? Oh, not that I am complaining, you understand. I count myself lucky that I was the one you chose when you decided to embark on your profession.”

“Chose
you?
I never chose you! You were a lightning bolt that struck me when I least expected it.”

She bit down on her lip to stem the rising tide of fury. Her wicked tongue, Flynn had often told her, would be the death of her. The prudent thing to do was to leave this place quickly and without fuss, before she gave in to the very understandable temptation to shriek obscenities at him.

“I see what it is,” said Julian, regarding her steadily and shrewdly. “In the cold light of day, you are beginning to have second thoughts. My advice to you is
don’t.
It’s too late to turn back. You made your decision. You have no reason to change it, and many good reasons to go on with it.”

Hatred filled her so completely that she could not find the words to answer him. He knew that he had taken a virgin. He should be on his knees, begging her forgiveness. He should be offering her marriage. And she would throw his offer back in his teeth and walk away laughing.

Misreading her silence, Julian went on gently, “I have more experience of the world than you. I know what your future would have been like, and I think you know it too. Virtuous girls of your class eventually find themselves married to dancing masters or shopkeepers. It’s a hand-to-mouth existence. It would do for some women, but it would not do for you, else you would not be here with me now. This day would have come for you sooner or later.

“It has its compensations. As my mistress, you will live in the lap of luxury. Sweetheart, I intend to pay very handsomely for the privilege of having taken your maidenhead. Besides, you have a natural aptitude for the position I am offering.” He cocked one brow suggestively. “Now come back to bed, and let me teach you about the pleasures to be had between a man and his mistress.”

She had a temper. It was a shortcoming she had tried to master by sheer force of will, and when that failed, by
applying to her religion. Appearances to the contrary, Serena was devoutly religious.

When she could unlock her jaw, she inhaled several long calming breaths. To give her more time to subdue her temper, she turned her back on him, and began to wrench at the strings of her bodice, trying to fit the thing to cover her bosom in spite of the rent that bared her back. When the strings of her bodice snapped, and he chuckled, she spun on him like an avenging fury.

“You great oaf!” she lashed out, circling the bed with her long strides. “I am no doxy! Did I not tell you last night that I was a highborn lady?”

“That is what I like in you,” he said. “You have the manners of a lady and the morals of .  .  . well, shall we just say that in bed, you are no lady, and that is how it should be?”

“The morals of a whore!” she shrilled. “That’s what you were going to say!”

“Sweeting, don’t
get
your hackles up. I mean that as a compliment. For my purposes, you will suit admirably.”

“How can I have the morals of a whore when I was a virgin? It’s impossible!”

“An attitude of mind, is what I meant. Believe me, I’m not finding fault. We are two of a kind.”

She wanted to see him suffer as she had been made to suffer. She wanted to see him shaking in his boots, and he would shake in his boots if he knew that she had two brothers to avenge her honor. Most of all, she wanted to see him grovel. Her every instinct cried out to see this man humbled. The frustration of knowing that there was nothing she could do was unbearable.

She would go insane if she did not express her anger. “Julian Raynor,” she scoffed, “a gamester and a libertine! I would no more think of taking up with your kind than I
would with thieves and murderers. If you knew my name, you would be shaking in your boots. I am not some poor, unprotected doxy. I am a baronet’s daughter. Live in the lap of luxury with you?” She laughed derisively, convincingly. “My father and brothers would see me dead first.”

Her angry outburst acted on him as she hoped it would. His smile faded; his face paled; the arms that were pillowing his neck fell to his sides.

“A baronet’s daughter?” he said.

The pleasure of wiping the smile from his face was not so great as the growing conviction that her temper had led her into committing a horrible blunder. Refusing to think of possible consequences, pressing her lips together, she looked around for her feathered cape. When he surged from the bed, she was so taken by surprise that she stumbled and fell against the dresser. It occurred to her then that he had a temper to match her own, but where hers was flash-fire hot, his was ice-cold, more controlled and much more lethal.

Catching her by the shoulders, he dragged her to the window. His eyes studied her face. “Who are you?” he demanded.

When she stared at him with her head flung back, blue defiance shimmering in her eyes, his fingers tightened and he shook her with enough violence to rattle her teeth. “I’ll have your name,” he said, “or I swear I shall make you my prisoner until I get to the bottom of this.”

It was no idle threat. She knew it was no idle threat. Then the authorities would be called in to search for her, and everything would come to light.