Tonight or Never
Authors: Dara Joy
TONIGHT OR NEVER
By
Dara
Joy
Other
Love Spell
and
Leisure
books by
Dara
Joy:
REJAR
HIGH ENERGY
KNIGHT OF A TRILLION STARS
TONIGHT OR NEVER
DARA
JOY
LOVE SPELL BOOKS
A LEISURE BOOK®
May 1999
Published by
Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
276
,
Copyright© 1997 by
Dara
Joy, Inc.
ISBN 0-505-52338-8
The name "Leisure Books" and the stylized "L" with design are trademarks of Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
Printed in the
"It is not enough to conquer; one must know how to seduce."
—Voltaire
To Joanna
Cagan
:
For paying attention to the minute details;
For your enthusiasm and endless support;
For having the same vision;
For always going to bat;
For your constant understanding;
and
most importantly,
For your great sense of humor.
You are without a doubt
"A Legendary Editor."
TONIGHT OR NEVER
, 1794
If seduction had a name it would be Lord John.
At least that was the opinion of the woman with whom he was currently cavorting.
He was hot sex.
Torrid nights and musky sheets.
The man was a rake, a rogue, a libertine, and a scoundrel.
A golden-haired, green-eyed, six-foot-plus package of the most interesting kind of trouble.
The woman was not alone in her opinion.
This was also the consensus of a multitude of other well-pleased and well-placed ladies of the ton; all of whom considered themselves extremely fortunate to have shared the extravagances of Viscount Sexton's bed.
The high opinion these ladies had of the strapping peer was wholly responsible for the acquisition of the nickname conferred upon him unilaterally by these women of knowledge; namely,
Lord of Sex
.
The affectionate term was testament to his good name, his startlingly good looks, and his exceptional capabilities in the art of
amour
. To add to this, the man had an overabundance of charm, a shining intellect, and an extremely wicked sense of humor.
Not that any of these other glowing qualities were on the woman's mind at the moment.
As his lordship's energetic enthusiasm propelled them both wildly across the steamy sheets of a massive Oriental lacquer bed, a single loud rap was heard on the door to her ladyship's boudoir. To say the intrusion was extremely ill-timed was the same as saying Lady
Havertam's
unwed niece was just a tad enceinte; it did not even begin to describe the situation.
"My lady, there is an urgent message here for the viscount!" The butler's muffled voice barely reached the couple on the bed.
Lord John hesitated.
The lady in question whispered fervently for him to ignore it and continue on. She augmented her request with an enticing roll of her hips. The punctuation was enough of a reason for the viscount; he dropped his head to the woman's chest and vigorously recommenced where he had left off.
But the butler, being a stalwart English servant, continued to rap on the door, his voice urgently seeking the recalcitrant lord.
This time when his lordship hesitated, an outraged sound exited the woman's mouth, the pitch and level of the tone reminding John of the unfortunate squeal of a stuck pig. He gaped at her as she continued to screech at the butler to go away.
Realizing what she must sound like, the woman suddenly smiled coyly up at him.
"Do ignore him, Johnnie," she beseeched the handsome man who seemed to be viewing her askance.
While he thought it over, the small charm that dangled from a thin gold chain about his throat caught a beam of light from the candle and sparked in the darkened room.
It was an odd charm, really…
A tiny gold carrot.
Many of the women of the ton had pondered the significance of the piece. His lordship was peculiarly secretive about it. The general opinion was that the Lord of Sex was having his own private joke regarding the elusive "carrot"—forever tantalizing, yet forever out of reach.
Whatever
its
meaning, the charm had become somewhat famous. Several ladies had joked to the viscount that the charm was his cartouche. John always smiled mysteriously at that point, saying only, "Indeed." Yet, whenever a woman touched it he subtly guided her hand away.
Lord John tossed back his thick mane of hair. His perfect white teeth flashed a brief smile. "I do not believe he will go away,
Jessymyn
. Let me see what he wants—I promise I'll be right back." He winked at her,
then
disengaged himself to pad naked to the door.
Normally a man did not answer the door stark naked. Not in most houses, anyway.
"Johnnie!" Her ladyship's exclamation
was brief
and not very heartfelt; nor did it in any way deter her ladyship from enjoying the splendid sight before her. John was a stunning man.
Especially unclothed.
Aware of her avid perusal, Lord Sexton grinned at her over his shoulder, revealing the infamous dimples that had caused scores of women to do unspeakable things for him.
The lady wilted back onto the covers.
Still smiling, he opened the door a few inches and boldly stuck his hand out for the message. John fully expected the "emergency" message to be from one of his legion of women; a flowery epistle begging him to dine alfresco from a favorite balcony, or some such request.
So he was quite surprised when he read the note. Initially he
smiled,
a huge ear-to-ear grin. Then the smile seemed to die on his face.
The woman lying amid the tumbled sheets noted his lordship's normally dusky skin tone turning into a somewhat pale shade.
When he looked up all previous traces of good humor were gone. "I must leave at once," he told her flatly.
"What is it?" She clutched the sheet to her bobbing breasts.
"A message from my uncle."
He didn't waste any time on further explanations, simply set about gathering his scattered clothes, and dressing with a speed she wouldn't have thought possible.
He was out the door before she even had time to object.
The woman blinked in confusion.
What could it be
? What would ever make the Lord of Sex leave a woman's bed? Was his uncle ill? He would have to be.
On his very deathbed.
Nothing less than that would drag the ardent lord away from his favorite and almost exclusive activity! Her sights fell to the crumpled note that had dropped to the floor in his haste to depart. Gingerly, she stepped out of bed and retrieved it. But when she opened it, all it displayed were three words:
CHLOE HAS RETURNED.
So that young half-French girl, Chloe Heart, had come back from her trip to the Colonies… Certainly that did not constitute an emergency! Just why was Lord Sexton so vexed? One might think he was actually in a state of panic over something.
The woman placed her fingers against her mouth, giggling. Silly thought; Lord Sexton was never perturbed over anything. Especially something
so
mundane as this.
Indeed, he was a man who displayed an almost arrogant courage. She herself had seen him laugh in the face of certain death at the hands of Lady
Snibble's
father—the best swordsman in England, or so the man claimed—when the outraged lord had caught his wayward daughter with the Lord of Sex in
flagrante
delicto
. Now that was a situation!
This was a mere curiosity.
After all, to a man like Lord John, how much trouble could one little girl cause?
Bored with the subject, she closed her eyes and instead remembered what it felt like to have all that power and sexual passion between her legs.
Unconsciously, her lips parted.
Chloe Makes Her Plans
It had gone on long enough!
Chloe Heart narrowed her violet eyes as she examined the man charging across the countryside, his horse kicking up a cloud of dust as he raced toward the mansion.
It could be only John.
No one else looked that good riding a stallion—or anything else, for that matter. The very idea made her eyes narrow further. Oh, he was a rogue!
She continued observing him as he rode across the far pasture at a hellish pace. Freed from its queue, his gilded hair flew behind him as he bent low over the horse's neck to gain speed.
She recognized that stance—it was a trait of John's that most people overlooked. Blinded by his apparent laissez-faire attitude and stunning looks, not many saw the iron determination well hidden beneath the mantle of the devil-may-care rake.
Chloe, however, had always seen it.
Typical of John to be so unconcerned with his appearance…
Despite her resolve, Chloe's expression momentarily softened. She had remembered that spun-gold hair every day for the past year and a half. It was the color of sunlit honey, and everything about him reminded her of the enticing nectar. Like his rich sense of humor with that beckoning, teasing laugh…
