Nicole Jordan (39 page)

“That hardly makes me respectable. Nor will it endow me with a pristine reputation.”

“But it will go a long way toward influencing opinions. Beyond that, title and wealth are all that really matter when it comes to being accepted, and you will have both when you’re my wife.”

“But, Dare…I’ve told you, I have had other lovers….”

“I don’t give a bloody hell how many men you’ve taken to your bed, as long as I am the last. As long as I’m your husband.”

Julienne still couldn’t let herself believe in the future Dare was envisioning. Couldn’t dismiss the fear she’d always felt of earning his lifelong resentment by tying him to her.

Her heart wrenching with turmoil, she searched his face. “How can you be certain you truly love me, Dare? I think it much more likely that you’ve mistaken your feelings. Eventually—perhaps even a few months from now—you will come to your senses and realize that you want me only for your carnal gratification.”

“No.” He held her gaze, his eyes stunningly bright. “I know better than anyone what carnal gratification is, Julienne. It’s basic, selfish lust of the flesh. It involves the body. It has nothing to do with the mind or heart. What I feel for you goes far, far beyond the carnal.”

When she didn’t reply, he leaned closer, the earnestness in his eyes growing even more intense. “I know I don’t deserve your love, but I intend to change. I mean to make something of myself, to someday prove myself worthy of you.”

“Worthy of me?” she asked, frowning.

“Yes, dammit.” His mouth twisted in a faint smile. “Why the devil do you think I’m taking up my seat in Parliament? So I can show you I’m not the worthless fribble you’ve always thought me.”

Julienne stared fixedly at Dare. It staggered her to realize his sincerity, and that he considered himself unworthy of her. “Dare, I never thought you a fribble…certainly not since meeting you again.”

“Then you’ll give me a chance?”

“Dare…”

When she didn’t answer his question at once, he stood abruptly and pulled her to her feet, then strode out of the green room, drawing Julienne behind him.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked rather breathlessly.

“The stage.”

To her utter amazement, he dragged her out on stage, interrupting the play and scattering the other actors. Positioning her in the exact center in front of the footlights, Dare sank to his knees before her and took her hand, the very picture of an avid suitor. The rumble of surprise from the audience died down so the spectators could hear his every word.

“Several months ago in London we made a wager, Miss Laurent. You vowed you could ensnare my heart and bring me to my knees. Well, I’m on my knees to you. I’m declaring you the victor. You’ve won, Julienne. Utterly and completely. My heart is yours. You have the absolute power to break it, as you will.”

At his public declaration, Julienne wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Dare was showing the world he loved her; he was showing
her
he loved her.

He clenched her hand hard. “Julienne…” His voice had gone beyond strained and sat on the cutting edge of pain. “Tell me honestly that you don’t love me—that you can never love me—and I’ll let you go. It will probably kill me, but I want you to be happy.”

She couldn’t bear the desperate entreaty in his eyes. “Oh, Dare, of course I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

With a raw sound, he rose to his feet and hauled her into his arms. His kiss was fierce, fervent. He twisted his hand in her hair and held her still for the hungry plundering of her mouth.

Julienne could scarcely hear the wild cheers of the audience over the pounding of her heart.

When Dare finally released her, it was only to envelop her in a smothering embrace. “You drive me to madness, do you know that?” he said raggedly.

“I could say the same of you.”

He held her tighter, his shoulder absorbing her sigh. He wanted to tell Julienne of his profound relief. How utterly alone he had always been without her. How he ached with the intense need to bury himself inside her. But that would keep. For now he only wanted her promise to wed him.

“You have to marry me now,” he murmured against her hair. “I won’t allow you any other choice. You stole my heart, Julienne, and your only hope to avoid imprisonment is to wed me.”

He could feel her surprise, sense her smile. “Is
that
why you brought the sheriff here? To accuse me of theft? So you could intimidate me into accepting you? No, you don’t need to answer,” she said, exasperated laughter lacing her voice. “It is just the sort of outrageous scheme you would think of.”

“That was the only way I could be sure you would hear me out. But now that you have…I’m never letting you go, Julienne. I intend to bind you to me in every way possible.”

She drew back, uncertainty shadowing her beautiful features. “You may come to tire of me someday.”

“No, never.
Never
.” Reaching up, Dare cradled her face in his hands. He would never tire of her. Her sensuality and intelligence would keep him forever tantalized. He couldn’t possibly feel this way for any other woman. Couldn’t desire anyone else the way he desired her.

His thumbs stroked her cheekbones, her lips. “Will you be my wife, my precious Jewel?”

Shouts of encouragement came from the audience—“Say aye!” “Marry the bloke!”—but Julienne spoke clearly over the din.

“Yes, Dare. Yes. I will.”

Elation, fierce as fire, swept through him. With a fervent prayer of thanks to the heavens, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her offstage to the thunderous sound of applause, away from prying eyes.

In the shadows of the wings, he set her down and wrapped Julienne in his arms again, his face nestled in her hair.

“I only hope,” she murmured, “that you don’t come to regret this.”

“My sole regret is all the wasted years between us. We have a great deal of time to make up for, Julienne. I can only try to atone for all the pain you suffered. I swear I will do my damnedest. And I’ll show you I can be a different man, that I can be better.”

“I don’t want you to be different, Dare. I love you exactly as you are.”

He lifted their clasped hands to kiss her fingers ardently. “Say it again—tell me you love me.”

“I love you, Dare. I always will.”

“I will never tire of hearing that. And I swear on my life, I will never again give you cause to doubt how much I love you.”

Shutting his eyes, he drew Julienne to him again, cradling her close against his heart. She was wrong; he wasn’t mistaken about his feelings. He understood completely the meaning of true love.

True love was Julienne. She was his heart, his life, his hopes, his every dream.

She was his precious love. He would spend the rest of his life proving it to her.

And now that he had found her again, he would never, ever let her go.

Epilogue

Kent, England, July 1814

The cottage where they’d held their lovers’ trysts seven years ago had changed little in the interval. The property had been carefully maintained, the garden lovingly tended and allowed to flourish. Now a profusion of sweet summer roses ran riot, perfuming the warm afternoon air as Dare carried his bride over the threshold.

Setting Julienne on her feet, he kissed her deeply, wanting to sink so completely into her that she would never be free of him.

They were married now, wed by special license because Dare had refused to wait the necessary three weeks for the banns to be read. They’d left London this morning for Kent and traveled directly to Wolverton Hall, where Dare gave his new lady only moments to change her carriage dress before he whisked her off to the cottage.

“At last,” he murmured hoarsely when he allowed Julienne to catch her breath. “This has been a dream of mine for an eternity, returning here with you.”

Her smile was magical and set his pulse soaring—which naturally dictated that he claim her mouth again. Responding eagerly, Julienne reached up to tangle her fingers in his hair, while her kiss reached deep inside him to twine around his heart.

When finally Dare forced himself to draw back, his blood was so heated, it was simmering; he wanted her so badly, need was like a fire inside him.

But there was no rush, he reminded himself. They had time on their side. A lifetime together—and he wanted to savor every instant.

“I want to make love to you in the rose garden,” Dare said thickly, pulling the pins from her hair.

“I thought you would never ask.”

Clasping his wife’s hand, he led her outside to the rear of the cottage. Late afternoon sunlight cast a golden warmth over the walled rose garden, wrapping them in a cocoon of privacy. In one corner, beneath a cherry tree, a blanket awaited them, along with the basket Dare had ordered brought here.

“You planned this, didn’t you?” Julienne asked in delight as he plucked a red rose and tucked it in her hair.

“Down to every last detail. I told you I have been waiting forever for this moment.”

Dare dropped to his knees on the blanket and fished in the basket. With Julienne watching, he drew out a bucket of iced champagne, a crystal goblet, a huge bowl of ripe strawberries and another of clotted cream, and finally a small vellum-wrapped packet tied with red ribbons.

When he glanced up to see her standing over him, he couldn’t help but be amused. “See, you’ve won our damned wager, my love. I’m on my knees to you. Again.”

“Are these my winnings?” she asked curiously when he handed her the packet.

“No, this is my wedding gift to you.”

He drew Julienne down beside him and braced his back against the tree trunk, tucking her in the curve of his arm. “Open it.”

Inside was a deed, along with several other certified documents. He saw her eyes grow moist as she read the deed. He had purchased her ancestral home, the Chateau-Folmont in Languedoc.

Her tremulous smile told him clearly that he had pleased her.

“
Thank
you, Dare,” she said in a fervent whisper. “This means so much to me. And I know my mother would have been overjoyed.”

“I will take you there someday. Perhaps next year.”

“There is no hurry, is there?”

“No hurry at all,” he answered, suspecting that the memories of their recent ordeal in France were still too raw for Julienne to wish to return just now. “But you have yet to decide where you want go on our wedding trip.”

They had discussed beginning in Italy and perhaps venturing as far as Russia. Dare wanted to show Julienne the world. They had also considered taking Lucian up on his offer of his castle in the Scottish Highlands, since during the summer months the British Isles would be far cooler than the rest of Europe. Moreover, Brynn’s brother Grayson seemed to have disappeared from there, and Brynn had begun to worry.

Dare might have volunteered to search for him, but he judged that he’d done his duty for the moment. And he had more important matters to attend to just now, namely his new bride.

“I admit Italy sounds lovely,” Julienne said, folding the packet and returning it to the basket for safekeeping.

“It’s almost as lovely as my wife.” He nuzzled her ear. “I’ll show you the all delights of Venice and Florence and Rome.”

Interrupting his attentions then, Dare poured a goblet of champagne, and they took turns sipping from the same glass while he hand-fed her strawberries dipped in cream.

“We will have to return by fall,” Julienne reminded him between bites and his nibbling kisses.

“By September,” Dare agreed. This fall would be busy with more race meets. They had missed the Derby at Epsom Downs in early June, while they were in France, although neither of Dare’s entries had won. “The St. Ledger is held in September. And Parliament reconvenes in November.”

“And Arnold expects me to begin rehearsals by late October.”

Julienne’s contract had been renewed at Drury Lane with her promise to star in two performances a month. She hadn’t wanted to quit acting altogether, and to her relief, Dare hadn’t expected her to.

“I am glad,” she admitted, “that you didn’t insist I give up my career simply because I am a marchioness.”

Humor danced in his eyes. “I value my skin too highly to risk disappointing your legion of fans. And it would be a pity to deprive the world of your tremendous talent.”

“Do you truly mean that?” Julienne asked, warmed by his praise.

“Unequivocally. I have the greatest respect for your acting skills. Your genius is what brought down a traitor.” Dare bit into a cream-drenched strawberry, then offered her the other half as he chewed thoughtfully. “Although…you may want to consider retirement once we have children.”

Julienne turned to gaze at him solemnly. They had never discussed the issue. “Do you want children?”

His gaze was serious and devilish at the same time. “Not only do I want children, my darling, but I want the sublime pleasure of making them with you.”

“May we begin soon?”

His slow, lazy smile was absolutely devastating. “I thought you would never ask,” he replied, raking a searing look over her.

They undressed each other without haste, pausing to savor the texture and feel of each other’s bodies…the sun-warmed skin, the heated pulses, the vital curves and hollows.

Julienne shivered when Dare’s lips suckled the breast he had just bared.

“I know some inventive methods of using cream,” he murmured, “but right now I only want to taste you. Come here, love.”

He lay back languidly on the blanket, the image of virile strength, and reached his arms up in invitation.

Julienne, however, hesitated, wanting to treasure this moment. She could scarcely believe she wasn’t dreaming. Dare was actually her husband at long last.

Breathless with wonder, she let her gaze drift over his body, drinking in his incredible masculine beauty…his lithe elegance, his lean hardness, his erotic smile, his emerald eyes that smoldered now with heat.

Every part of him was dear to her. She loved him with such deep certainty that
he
was part of her.