Melancholy welled up inside her. “Lucien,” she whispered as his tongue thrust into her. “My darling.”
Her fingers slipped through his hair and wrapped around his scalp. His tongue probed deep, and she bit her lip to hold back her cries. The coiling tension wound tighter, and her hips thrust forward, seeking to deepen the contact. She rode his mouth, undulating against him, her lips parted as she fought to breathe. He latched onto her and suckled with expert, gentle force, knowing just what she needed.
Her back arched, her breath seized, her fingers tugged at his hair as she came against his mouth. Her orgasm rolled through her, over her, releasing the relentless tension that had gripped her for over a week. A week in which she’d fallen in love and then had her heart broken.
He soothed her tremors with soft laps, gentling her before rising to his feet.
Boneless, Julienne stood unmoving as Lucien dressed her. He drew her against his chest as he buttoned the back of her gown. When he was done, he rocked her gently in his arms. Never in her life had Julienne felt more cherished.
“It’s the last set,” he whispered.
“I must go,” she sighed. “Montrose will be looking for me.”
Lucien nuzzled her throat. “This set is reserved for me.”
“Be serious,” she murmured, kissing the sharp line of his jaw. “You cannot continue to ravish me in public venues. We’ll—”
“I am serious. Montrose is aware of my intentions and has promised to offer no objection. Say yes, Julienne.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m an excellent dancer.”
“You’re also a conceited rogue.”
“Ah.” His smile stunned her wits. “But you wouldn’t wish me to be any other way. Now, go out to the ballroom and wait for me.”
Tossing a skeptical glance over her shoulder, Julienne exited the alcove and moved down the hallway to the ballroom. Within moments, Lucien was bowing over her hand. She glanced at Hugh, who scowled.
“Do you wish to dance with him?” he asked, giving her the choice.
“Yes,” she breathed, waiting for his refusal and astonished when he offered a curt nod to Lucien.
“How did you do it?” she asked as Lucien led her to the line of dancers with a sure hand and a confident step. His powerful body moved gracefully, and she found herself eagerly anticipating the upcoming cotillion.
“Never mind,” he said, grinning. “I believe I’m in heaven. Your taste flavors my mouth, and your scent clings to my nostrils.” He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and sighed.
Julienne blushed. “You say the most wicked things, Lucien.”
He raised a mocking brow. “You do the most wicked things, my love. Underneath that prim-and-proper exterior is a wanton dying to be satisfied. And I am just the repentant rake to do it.”
“Repentant?” She arched a brow.
“Definitely.”
She glanced around furtively before whispering, “Do you really think so?”
“Think what?” he asked. “That I’m the man to satisfy you?” His mouth curved with devilish amusement. “Do you doubt it? I think I’ve proven myself rather well, considering I haven’t been able to use all of my endowments.” His grin widened. “You do remember what I told you about challenging a man’s virility?”
“No, not that.” Her blush deepened. “I meant the part about my being a wanton.”
He laughed. “You liked that, did you?”
She blushed. “It’s a relief to know you find me . . .”
“Passionate? Desirable? Interesting? Beautiful?”
Julienne laughed, heedless of the scandalized eyes that watched them cross the dance floor. “You make me feel like I am all of those things. I thank you for that.”
“And you make me happy. So it is I who must thank you.”
Her eyes dropped shyly.
“Julienne.”
She glanced at him.
“I would like to take you on a picnic tomorrow.”
“Montrose would never—”
“Leave him to me.”
Julienne narrowed her eyes. “Even if that were true, I’ve already agreed to accompany Lord Fontaine to a literary luncheon tomorrow.”
Lucien’s lips tightened grimly. “The day after, then.”
She nodded. “If you can arrange to garner my brother’s approval, I would love to go on a picnic with you, Lucien.”
She knew what he wanted. He wished to say good-bye, and she was touched he wanted to make it a memorable event. He cared for her, perhaps more than he knew, but he would never change, and she would never ask him to. Eventually he would resent her for the marital restrictions imposed on his lifestyle. No matter how much he desired her, desire alone would never be enough to bridge the gulf between them.
However, she refused to think about that now.
Instead she threw herself into the dance and allowed Lucien Remington, notorious libertine, to sweep her away. For this moment at least, she could pretend all of her dreams had come true.
Chapter Ten
He was very handsome.
Julienne acknowledged that fact for the hundredth time as she studied Lord Fontaine furtively beneath her lashes. And quite charming. She glanced around the long table where they sat in Lady Busby’s London residence. Most of the other women in the room were eyeing him covetously. But Julienne could dredge up no pleasure in the day. All she desired was to be enjoying a picnic with Lucien.
“Is the food not to your taste, Lady Julienne?” Fontaine asked solicitously.
She smiled. “Everything is wonderful. I’m just not very hungry.” She glanced at his plate.
“Liar,” he teased. “You want a bite of my scone.” He broke off a piece with his long, elegant fingers, swiped some softened butter on it with a knife, and brought it to her mouth. She parted her lips automatically, and he popped the morsel inside.
She blushed, knowing everyone at the table had duly noted the intimate gesture. “I sense a scandalous side to you, my lord.”
He grinned. “Does that disturb you?”
“You know it doesn’t, or you wouldn’t indulge me with it.”
“’Tis one of the reasons why I like you so well, Julienne.” He took a deep breath. “There is something I wish to discuss with you, but now is not the appropriate time. Perhaps tomorrow I could take you for a drive in the park?”
Julienne knew exactly what he wished to discuss with her, and she knew what her answer would be. But first she had one more opportunity to spend time with Lucien. “I’m afraid I must decline. I have plans tomorrow.” She saw the troubled frown and sought to allay his concern. “But the following day would be lovely.”
He nodded. “Of course. I look forward to it.”
Hours later, Julienne returned to Montrose Hall, determined to spend the evening at home so she would be fresh and alert for her picnic with Lucien. She had so much to say to him, so many things she wanted him to know, before they said good-bye.
She ordered tea brought to her in the family parlor and made her way upstairs with the afternoon’s post. Julienne sorted through the pile halfheartedly, until she came to a missive that caught her eye.
Delicate pink parchment, scented of roses and bearing a rose seal, stood out from the others. Julienne opened it curiously.
“Good grief,” she breathed when she realized who the sender was. And then she tucked into the letter with gusto.
She’d jilted him!
Lucien stomped back down the steps of Montrose Hall in a fine temper. He still couldn’t believe it. He’d never been jilted in his life. “Something came up,” Julienne had written in her far-too-brief apology. If that “something” turned out to be Fontaine, there would be the devil to pay.
Returning to his phaeton, Lucien cursed at the sight of the massive picnic basket strapped to the back. He’d never in his life been on a picnic. His staff had been forced to run out and buy the things necessary to put one together, including the basket itself. Even with his foul mood, he wasn’t about to allow the fine feast Remington’s chef had put together go to waste. He’d visit his mother and take her out for the afternoon. She would enjoy the surprise.
It wasn’t long before Lucien was climbing the steps of his mother’s townhouse. Heading toward the pink parlor, he scowled when he heard his mother’s laughter inside. Damnation, she had guests. Perhaps she wouldn’t be available for a picnic either. The thought made his mood even more disagreeable. He opened the door and then stood frozen on the threshold.
“What the devil are you doing in my mother’s house?” he barked.
Three heads—his mother’s, the duke’s, and Julienne’s—swung toward him in surprise.
He was somewhat pacified by Julienne’s radiant smile. “I was invited, of course,” she replied.
His Grace stood. “Afternoon, son. Wasn’t expecting to see you until this evening at your club, but I’m pleased all the same.”
“I’m not,” grumbled Amanda. “Run along now, Lucien, and allow me to speak to Lady Julienne.”
Lucien crossed his arms and glowered. “If I leave, Julienne is coming with me. Today was my day with her, promised to me for a picnic.”
“You whine like a petulant child,” his mother scolded as she attempted to shoo him out of the room.
“You have no notion of the trouble that went into preparing that damn picnic,” he argued. “And now it’s sitting outside, on the back of my phaeton, getting cold.” He held out his hand. “Come along, Julienne.”
Amanda glared at her son. “She’s not going anywhere. She came to see me, and she’s been here only a few minutes.”
“She has no business being here. We had plans.”
Julienne rose from the settee with her customary grace, and Lucien’s eyes became riveted to her. The epitome of the ton’s esteemed social perfection, she was nevertheless completely at home in his mother’s parlor, and he adored her for that. Dressed in a scarlet riding habit, she was stunning, with her glorious hair piled atop her head and her lush lips curved in a placating smile. As she stepped closer, her scent enveloped him, and his entire body hardened, as it always did around her.
She reached out a hand and stroked his tense upper arm. “I’m sorry I ruined your plans for the day. Perhaps we can still go and take your parents with us.”
At the slight touch of her hand, he lost his control and gripped her elbows, pulling her closer. He bent over her, lowering his voice so he wouldn’t be overheard. “I wanted you all to myself. I looked forward to it.”
She laughed. “My maid is here. She would have come on the picnic, too.”
“I might have been able to tolerate her,” he muttered. “But my mother will hang on every word.”
“What could you possibly have to say that would shock your parents?”
His mouth dropped to her ear. “How about how ravishing you look in that riding habit? I want to ravish you right out of it. I’m sporting an impressive cockstand, Julienne, just from looking at you. I want to take you somewhere, lift up your skirts, and lick you until you scream. I want to put my fingers inside you and—”
“G-good h-heavens,” she sputtered, fanning her face with her hands. “Incorrigible rogue.”
Julienne stared at Lucien Remington and saw the wicked glint in his eyes. She narrowed her own.
Two could play his game.
Her mouth curved in a seductive smile, and she ran her tongue along her bottom lip. “And while your hands are under my skirts, my wicked Lucien, I would have my hands down your trousers stroking that magnificent cock. You would be so enamored with the feel of my hands, you would lie back and allow me to have my way with you. I could take you into my mouth and suck you. Hard, the way you love it. My—”
“Damnation!” Lucien backed away from her as if she had burned him, the crest of his cheekbones flushed with desire.
Julienne grinned and turned to face his parents. “Would you care to join us for a picnic, Madam Remington? Your Grace?”
Amanda smiled. “My goodness, the heat that comes off you two could start a blaze.”
She flushed. Lucien was right. She was becoming a wanton.
“Don’t be embarrassed, dear,” Amanda said with a grin. “I’m aware Lucien proposed to you. He wouldn’t have done so if you were indifferent to one another.”
“Marriage?” barked the duke. “Does no one tell me anything?”
“She refused him,” Amanda explained.
“I should think so,” Magnus grumbled. “Fontaine is an excellent catch.”
Julienne blinked. “Lucien is a wonderful catch as well. Any woman would be lucky to have him.”
“Then why won’t you?” the duke challenged.
“Yes, Julienne,” purred Lucien behind her. She spun to face him and found him leaning against the door jamb, with his arms crossed. “Why won’t you?”
“You know very well why!”
“I don’t,” Amanda said. “Tell me.”
Julienne lifted her chin. “He wants me for all the wrong reasons, and when he tires of me, he intends to dally as he pleases.”
“Hell and damnation, son.” His Grace roared with laughter. “Never tell a woman that before the vows are spoken.”
“Glass!” Amanda cried, placing her hands on her hips. “I’m ashamed of both of you.”
“She’d allow Fontaine to chase skirts,” Lucien said defensively, “but not me. It’s not fair.”
“That’s different,” returned Amanda and Julienne in unison.
“Indeed?” Lucien said with a quirk of his brow.
“Indeed?” joined the duke as he walked over to his son. “Explain yourselves.” The two almost identical men faced their women with identical arched brows.
