Julia London 4 Book Bundle

by The Rogues of Regent Street

  Well, Julian had done his part all right, and it had been one of the hardest things he had ever done in his life.

  It was unnerving, to say the least, to utter the words that bound him to a woman for the rest of his life, particularly when that woman detested him. But that rather uncomfortable sensation was nothing compared to the raw emotion at seeing her on her father’s arm in that silver gown—exactly as she had appeared that night almost two years ago.

  It had rocked him to his core, thrown him off balance, made his insufferable desire for her surge to the surface. It was all he could do to keep from gaping in wonder as he had watched her glide down that aisle, her large blue-gray eyes fixed on him. When Redbourne handed his daughter over to him for all eternity, he had seen the bewilderment in her eyes … and his heart had ached for her.

  It still ached, he thought, and downed the rest of the whiskey. The ache was different now, however, having spread through him like a cancer and making him want to claw his way out of his skin. Seeing her so subdued, he had longed for the old Claudia, the bright star in the ton’s galaxy. The woman who could rattle a man with a mere smile, the woman who had captivated him in France. But that Claudia was gone, perhaps forever destroyed by this marriage. There was no idea he could conjure that he thought would entice his bride into this marriage.

  But he owed it to her to make the best of this predicament—it was the least he could do for having ruined her life. That meant ignoring the reasons why she despised him, pushing Phillip as far from his thoughts as possible. He had to show her that they could live peacefully with one another.

  Starting with a quiet supper on this, their blasted wedding day.

  He knocked on her door an hour later, having sent for wine and a light supper. There was no answer; Julian opened the door and walked into her rooms. The only light came from a small fire in the hearth that cast huge shadows on the walls. On a table set directly in front of the fire were several covered dishes, a bottle of wine and two wine goblets. Claudia stood in the shadows with her hands clasped behind her back, leaning against one wall. She had not changed; the crystals embedded in the folds of her gown twinkled like tiny little stars around her.

  She was so beautiful.

  He stepped across the threshold and shut the door behind him, shoved his hands in his pockets, regarding her just as warily as she regarded him. “That’s a beautiful gown. I remember the first time you wore it.”

  Claudia’s expression did not change. “Yes, well, there was no time to commission another one.”

  “It was a compliment. You were as beautiful then as you are today,” he said, watching her breast rise with a very deep breath. “I believe it was the night of the Wilmington Ball.”

  “Yes,” she murmured faintly, “the Wilmington Ball. Papa was quite perturbed that night because I danced with one gentleman three times. He was positively apoplectic.”

  Redbourne hadn’t been the only one. Phillip had monopolized her all evening, evoking a rare envy in him. “It was a long time ago,” he said, and inclined his head toward the table. “I thought you might be hungry. Shall we dine?”

  Claudia glanced at the covered platters. “Oh.” She pushed away from the wall and moved slowly to the table, perching stiffly on the edge of a chair. “I … I don’t know what you like,” she muttered, lifting a cover.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said, and moved to take the other seat. He reached for the wine, filled her glass, then his. Claudia did not look at him; she forked some roast beef from one platter onto a gold-rimmed china plate, and followed it with a helping of boiled potatoes. With a shy glance beneath her lashes, she handed him the plate.

  He took it, watched her fork two potatoes onto another plate, then suddenly set it down. “I can’t do this.”

  Julian paused, lowering the goblet from which he was about to drink. “You are not hungry?”

  “No, I can’t do this!” she cried, gesturing at the table and the room. “I can’t pretend, Julian!”

  “No one is asking you to,” he said evenly, placing his goblet on the table.

  She dropped her gaze to her lap. “Tell me, please, what do you want from me?”

  What did he want from her? To look at her one day and not feel such insane longing. “I grant you our marriage is not ideal, but it is hardly hell, Claudia. I understand how distressing today’s ceremony must have been for you—”

  “Humiliating,” she suddenly interjected, and came abruptly to her feet. “You cannot imagine how humiliating!”

  And perhaps he could imagine it very well, he thought, watching her pace in front of the hearth. “I am terribly sorry this has been so humiliating for you, but unfortunately there was nothing I could do.”

  “Yes, so you have said, Julian. Believe me, you have made it quite clear how unfortunate this is for you.”

  He had no idea what she meant by that but did not like the tone of her voice. “I don’t like this any more than you do—”

  “But it’s not the same for you! You weren’t forced into this, I was! I am your chattel now—I might as well be a fat old cow!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” he snapped, and stood abruptly, raking a hand through his hair in exasperation. “You are not my chattel, Claudia—ah, to hell with it. I won’t argue something so foolish. Look here, what is done is done, and I do not intend to dwell on it.”

  “Meaning?” she asked, folding her arms defensively across her middle.

  “Meaning,” he said, planting one elbow on the mantel and peering sharply into her face, “we are quite married now, and you might as well accept that fact, because God knows, it will go easier on us both once you do!”

  “Oh, I’ve accepted it, my lord,” she said low. “Just as my father said—I have made my bed, and now I am lying in it. How could I possibly accept this folly any better than that?”

  “I would suggest, madam, that your petulance is not helping matters in the least,” he muttered irritably.

  “My petulance?” she exclaimed indignantly. “Pray tell, Julian, what would you like me to do? Pretend this is all quite all right? That I somehow wanted this to happen?”

  Yet another reminder that she despised him and one he certainly did not need. “Do us both an enormous favor and don’t make this any worse than it already is!” he said hotly.

  “I could not possibly make it any worse than it is!” she exclaimed. “And don’t expect me to make it better for you!”

  Cold anger shot through him. Unthinkingly, he grabbed her elbow and yanked her to him. “Don’t push me, Claudia,” he warned her. “There were two of us in that hothouse, and as I recall, you were enjoying it as much as I was!”

  Her eyes were suddenly glittering with fury. “How dare you! Let go of me,” she muttered angrily, squirming in his grasp.

  “Not until I am damn good and ready,” he responded through clenched teeth, and jerked her hard into his chest, crushing her in his arms as he quickly descended to devour her luscious mouth. She struggled fiercely, tried to push his arms away. But then something happened—her struggle was suddenly filled with an urgency he fully understood. She opened her mouth beneath his, and he thrust eagerly into the warm recess, mimicking another, earthier motion. He drew her lip between his teeth, savoring every nip of her plump flesh. And then her hands were around his neck, pulling his head down to hers as she pressed her lithe body to his, against the hard shaft of an arousal he had not felt in months—years.

  Then suddenly she stopped, tried to turn her head away from his, and he felt the tears on her cheeks. He dragged his mouth across her cheek, to one blue-gray eye, then pressed his forehead against hers. “It doesn’t have to be so hard, sweetheart,” he murmured raggedly. “Don’t … don’t make this so hard for us. It’s our wedding day, and I want to make love to you. I want to bury myself deep inside you and feel you wrap yourself around me. I want to give you pleasure you have dared not dream of and I would that you want the same. Let me love you, Claudia.”
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br />   With a soft whimper, she closed her eyes. “No,” she whispered helplessly, and her hands began to slide from his shoulders. “It will only hurt us in the end, don’t you see?”

  Julian caught her wrists. “Yes. I won’t let it hurt us,” he insisted. “Just let me love you.” He lowered his head again, before she could protest, brushing her lips gently, touching her with the tip of his tongue, skimming the seam of her lips. He let go of her wrists, sliding his hands to her back and the tiny row of buttons there. She didn’t resist him; she grasped the lapels of his waistcoat and clung to him. And when his hands slipped underneath her gown to touch her back, her lips parted with a soft sigh and she met his tongue with her own, thrusting boldly into his mouth.

  Mother of God.

  Her tongue was like a flame, licking and tantalizing him beyond reason. The fire ran like a river to his groin, building to an unimaginable heat. He pushed the gown from her shoulders, his fingers gliding over her satin skin, down to her waist as he kissed her more deeply.

  He abruptly lifted his head; her eyes were glittering like gems, their color almost deep water blue. Her lips, swollen from his kiss, were as red and as plump as summer berries. He dropped his gaze to her breasts, drew an uneven breath. They were partially covered by a chemise that clung to her; hardened nipples jutting against silk from two perfect globes. Brushing the pad of his thumbs across them, he felt them stiffen even more as her fingers curled tightly into his arms, and he hoped to high heaven he would have the strength to hold himself until it was right for her.

  “You make me feel so … so helpless,” she whispered. As beautiful as she was, as alluring as she was, she was an innocent. But her eyes … the bewildered hunger in her eyes penetrated his consciousness, sent a heat swirling through him, pushing down to the fire already flaming out of control in his groin.

  Julian gritted his teeth and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly to him in a fierce embrace. “I am helpless too, Claudia. I want to make love to you so badly I may very well expire with it,” he murmured thickly, and buried his face in her neck, drawing the pearl dangling from her lobe into his mouth. It was impossible to let go of her, and damned near impossible to think of her innocence above his own raging need. He grazed his cheek against hers, fully intending to end this now, fully intending to wait until Claudia was ready—however long it took.

  But as his hands slid to her shoulders and he began to lift his head, she turned her face into him, dragged her lips across his cheek, searching for his mouth. Surprised, he was motionless for a moment, long enough for Claudia to slip her tongue between his lips and kiss him with an ardor that matched his own and quickly driving him to the brink of madness. Without thinking, Julian lifted her into his arms and carried her into the adjoining bedroom.

  He had no idea when or how her gown came off. He only knew that she was almost naked in his arms—he ripped the neckcloth from his neck, clawed at his shirt until it was gone as he gazed ravenously at her body. When he tugged gently at the drawstring of her petticoats, they fell away, pooling at her feet. She was resplendent, radiant. Julian slowly sank to his haunches, trailing his hands down her side, over her hips and thighs. Carefully, he lifted one foot, then the other, until she was free of the garment, and steadied her when she started to sway. She wore just a light silk chemise and a thin pair of drawers.

  He looked up, caught her gaze as he slowly slid the drawers over the gentle flair of her hips. She steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder as he lifted her feet to free her of the fabric. His hands glided up her legs, around to her bottom, and he impulsively buried his face in the gentle swell of her belly, calling on everything he had to respect her innocence, to take his time to show her the many ways a man could love a woman. He had wanted her for so long, just like this, in his arms … it was torture not to take her with the full force of the fire coursing through him. But Julian forced himself to rise, sliding his hands over the thin silk chemise that barely covered her, up her rib cage, over her breasts, hardly touching her at all.

  “You are beautiful,” he murmured, and reached for the pins in her hair, releasing one thick tress at a time. A goddess, he thought, and kissed her lightly, toying with her lips as he reached for the thin straps of her chemise and pushed them off her shoulders.

  The chemise slipped away, baring what were exquisite breasts. He lowered his head, flicked his tongue across one tip. Claudia swayed into him, bracing herself against his arms. His body, throbbing with painful anticipation, strained impatiently against his trousers. He cupped her breasts gingerly, almost reverently, felt them swell in his palms as Claudia drew another ragged breath. Her eyes were unfocused; a dark blush had flooded her cheeks. With the back of his hand, Julian brushed her brow. “Claudia,” he whispered, and kissed her forehead before stepping away to sit on the edge of the bed.

  As he feasted his gaze on her body, she shyly dropped her head, folded her arms across her bare stomach. He had thought her beautiful for years, but he had never understood how beautiful. Her body was not of this earth—legs long and shapely, hips flaring delicately from a slender waist. A dark patch of curls at the apex of her thighs, delectable breasts. He didn’t deserve this. She wrapped her arms even tighter about her middle, unconsciously lifting her breasts.

  “Come here, sweetheart,” he said softly, and extended his hand. Claudia glanced at it, almost reluctantly put her hand in his. Julian pulled her into his lap, wrapped her in a warm embrace, gliding his lips across her neck, her cheeks and mouth, until she was responding to him, her hands seeking his chest and shoulders. He slowly leaned backward, taking her with him, then rolled her onto her back. “Don’t think,” he murmured. “Don’t do anything but lie there and let me make love to you.” And silencing any protest, he trailed a row of kisses from her lips, down her chin, to her breasts. As he laved one hard peak, Claudia squirmed beneath him; Julian slipped an arm beneath her, catching her to him. He took her fully into his mouth, nipping the rigid peak with his teeth, swirling his tongue around it. He massaged her other breast until the pliant flesh grew firm in his hand, then shifted to give it equal homage with his mouth. Above him, Claudia made a sound in her throat; a half moan, half cry. Julian tightened his grip on her, drew her farther into his mouth and mercilessly laved her while his hand floated down her belly and over her thighs.

  She moaned then, a deep, aching moan, and Julian lifted his head to look at the face that had haunted him these last two years. One hand rested carelessly over her heart, the other was twined in the mess of dark hair above her head. Her eyes glittered in the near darkness—she said nothing, just gazed at him.

  Merciful God, he would never survive this—he was perilously close to exploding as it was. A wave of unbearable lust suddenly moved him forward and he kissed her roughly, devouring her small sigh as his fingers skimmed her inner thighs, tangled in the dark curls between her legs. Claudia lurched at his touch; but Julian caught her shoulders and hugged her tightly to him as he began a deliberate exploration.

  She began to writhe beneath him, arching into his hand, moaning against his neck. It was almost more than Julian could bear, but he kept his pace, exploring her with gentle insistence, probing deeper with his fingers, stretching her, preparing her for him, until he felt the thin membrane that sealed her chastity.

  He withdrew, kissed her passionately before rolling onto his back to remove his trousers, and quickly came over her again, reveling in the feel of the silken skin of her belly against his erection. Claudia reacted as if she had been singed. Whimpering softly, she flinched where he touched her; her hands clenched fitfully in his hair. The sound of her breath, he noticed, was as deep and desperate as his own.

  He wedged one knee between her thighs, grazing his erection over the soft patch of curls. A sharp gasp and her hand found his wrist and clung to it, her nails digging into his skin when he moved to her entrance and pushed gently. He gritted his teeth in a supreme act of self control. “Shh …” he whispered, m
ore to himself than to her, and pushed a little more, slipping into the tight, wet heat of her. He lowered his head, touched his forehead to hers, and pushed a little farther, clenching his jaw harder as her body tightly surrounded him, pulling him deeper into her and squeezing the passion from him. His hips pushed forward again, a little at a time, stretching her open, until he felt the barrier of her maidenhead.

  He paused, lowered himself to her. She was panting now, her eyes wide with apprehension, a thin sheen of perspiration covering her skin. Julian licked the salty hollow of her neck. “Hold on to me, sweetheart,” he murmured. Her arms obediently slid around his neck, and Julian lowered his head to kiss her, thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth at the same moment he lifted his hips and drove past her barrier.

  Her body seized tightly; she went rigid in his arms, but she made no sound. Julian panicked a little; he kissed her gently, tenderly, stroked her neck and shoulders until she at last released a long sigh. Slowly, her body began to relax, and very timidly, she began to respond to his kiss—and Julian began to move. Gingerly at first, sliding gently in and out of her in long, patient strokes that almost killed him. Moaning softly, Claudia’s knees came up around his waist, and Julian’s desire began to boil in his groin.

  He shifted his weight to better reach the core of her, and began to move with urgency, thrusting deep inside her, reaching for her womb, wanting her to feel the same, incredible passion that swirled through him. He wanted her to feel the same intensity of anticipation he felt now, his body dormant for so long, filled and straining to the point of bursting. She threw one arm above her head, grasping at pillows and bed hangings as her hips began to rise to meet him. Julian groaned deep—he was past the point of tender lovemaking, had fallen into a sea of desire that pulled him under with its current. The sea swept him forward then pulled him back, sweeping forward again, farther still, harder and deeper. She rose to meet each onslaught, swirling her hips in an ancient lover’s dance. Julian was fast losing control as the desire spiraled tighter and tighter in him, and reaching between their joined bodies, he urgently stroked her as he plunged deeper into her warmth, oblivious to all else …