"Yes, yes, I think I do," he admitted, dreading her laughter.
Instead her eyes filled with tears. "Engaged?"
He nodded, and gathered her even more tightly to him. "Yes, and married too, if you'll have me. If you can see your way clear to turning your whole life upside down for a man like me. I'm not very good with women--"
Juliet laughed then, and he stiffened for a moment. "I think you underestimate your remarkable talents quite considerably, Lawrence. 'Very good' doesn't even come close."
Her words made him surge so powerfully, he was sure he would swoon. "Speaking of coming close--"
They revelled in their banquet of sensual delicacies, driving each other ever onward. As soon as one would quieten, the other would soar, until soon, their desires meshed and they peaked together so long and hard he was sure his heart had stopped.
He had never climaxed simultaneously with any woman before. It felt so perfect, the most moving of the many he had had with this marvel of a young woman.
He devoured her with kisses, trying to draw her right into him, just as she did with him in the incredibly tender embrace they alone could share.
Lawrence was so absorbed in making love to the wonderful girl he had been sent to meet, that he had scarcely a shred of sanity left when the door swung open, and gruff tones of masculine outrage assaulted his ears.
"Juliet! My God! Juliet! What on earth?"
Lawrence rose on one elbow and twisted to face the intruder. He blinked at the man in the bright sunshine, which seemed to glow like a limelight on his dramatic entrance.
All the joy of a moment before slipped away, leaving only the hard, brutal, nasty past ten years of his life.
He stared, and stared. For there, gaping at him, his face as black as a thundercloud, was his old enemy Matthew Dane.
"Lawrence Howard. You bastard! What the hell do you think you're doing to my sister!"
12 hours previously
CHAPTER ONE
Alone at last. Juliet practically skipped down the stairs. A whole evening to herself to catch up on her reading.
Oh, not that she was not enjoying herself in London, but the balls, parties, fetes, soirees and visits she had been dragged to ever since she and her sister Miranda had arrived from sleepy Lyme Regis last week was enough to wear anyone out. Let alone a shy, quiet bluestocking who needed to do her accounts and catch up on her studies, as well as take care of her correspondence and finish one of the many essays she had due within the next fortnight.
To her surprise, there was a knock at the door. It had to be a late-comer who was supposed to have gone on with the Rakehells to their special supper.
She smiled at the sobriquet. Her brother's friends were certainly outlandish in their pursuit of justice, and some had been men about Town, but most of them were now happily married by all accounts, and well-respected.
She heard a deep voice at the door ask for Matthew and the lady of the house.
The butler started to turn the man away, but despite her longing for solitude, Juliet decided to intervene.
"It's all right, Carstairs, I'll speak with him," she said, catching sight of the huge man who towered in the doorway. He was a remarkable-looking chap, as large as her own huge brother, with piercing silver grey eyes which bored into her as he bowed.
"I'm afraid Matthew pressed on with the others to the club."
He frowned. "Ah well, it is no matter, really. It was you I came to see."
"Me?" she said with some surprise, clutching her book to her bosom.
He caught sight of the title. Plutarch's Lives.
"Yes, just so. I'm told you're a great student of the classics, history," he said, enjoying the witty banter, her pretence of innocence.
She blinked, and smiled prettily. "How very kind of you to say so. I did not know my reputation had spread so far and wide."
He nodded enthusiastically. "Indeed, I've scarce been able to hear about anything else at the club."
Juliet felt her cheeks heat. "Matthew does have a tendency to exaggerate. Please, forgive me, but might I ask your name?"
"Lawrence, Lawrence Howard."
She gave a smile of recognition, for the Rakehells had just been discussing him. Something about his huge potential in danger of going to waste, his fine mind and ability to debate eloquently when they had all been at Eton together. And his forthcoming engagement to the most unsuitable Matilda, her brother's former mistress, which they all prayed he would break off in time.
"Of course, Mr. Howard. Forgive me. And I'm Juliet, as you must know." She offered her hand.
He just stared at it for a moment as though he had never shaken hands before. Well, he had lived in India for many years, according to her brother, she reasoned. Mayhap they did things differently there? All thought of her studies flew out of her head at the thrilling prospect of talking with him about his travels abroad.
At last he took her hand, and she felt the blood fly to her face the moment he touched her. The most sublime warmth filled her from top to toe, setting her atingle.
"So nice to meet you," she murmured, unable to take her eyes off his arresting silver ones. Especially since he was staring at her as though he had lost all power of speech.
She disengaged her hand as gently as possible considering she just wanted to yank it away from the stunning contact.
She covered up her embarrassment by saying, "Matthew has such a wide circle of acquaintance in London and insists on introducing me round. It gets my head into quite a spin."
When he continued to remain silently staring, she wondered if he were on a more serious errand. Perhaps he had found out about Matilda, and was upset, distressed, having second thoughts about his marriage? It certainly would be a waste…
So despite the impropriety relative to London manners, she took pity on the handsome silver-eyed man, and said, "If you really don't wish to follow on to the club with them, would you care to come into the parlor?"
"I would indeed," he said with a wolfish smile, barely able to tear his eyes away from the alluring little nymph.
Raven black hair, delicate brows, patrician nose, finely sculpted lips the colour of ripe raspberries and just as juicy, she was exquisite. His friends had praised her to the skies, but looking at her, he was sure all he had been told could scarcely do her justice.
Though plainly garbed in a loose wrapper gown of turkey red, it set off her dark looks to perfection. He stared at her eyes, which most men would have taken for blue. But he could see the unusual light in them, and observed, "Like violets in May. Extraordinary."
"Oh, my eyes," she said, blushing. "Kind of you to notice."
It was hard to imagine anyone not noticing. Her swan-like neck, shoulders, bosom, her supple waist and nicely curved hips, long, long legs, her tidy feet and hands, she was sublime.
He had all to do not to seize her to him and bury his lips in her glossy hair, piled up into a woven crown of coils but so vibrant and full-bodied that it was already attempting to break free of the confining pins which held the elegant style in place. There was no padding there to disguise thinning hair. It was a lush as the rest of her magnificent beauty.
Lawrence breathed in now, detecting roses, honey, and a bit of spice. From the moment he had touched her hand, he had been lost. But her delicious fragrance was nearly his undoing.
He would have reached for her then, but she was already stepping out of the foyer and down the corridor, leaving the servant standing gaping after them. Lawrence blinked, nodded, and hurried after his vision of perfection.
She led the way into the less formal of her brother's two drawing rooms, an intimate chamber in gold and cream with burgundy accents.
"Would you care for some refreshment? Coffee or tea?"
He grinned. "Coffee never passes my lips."
Her fine eyebrows rose heavenward. "Oh?"
"I'm a tea trader. So tea it always is, and always shall be."
"Ah, yes, of course, Matthew had mentio
ned that. I'm sorry."
"Pray don't apologise. Kind of you to remember me at all," he said, with a burning stab of jealousy for all of her other male callers which was as unreasonable as it was acute.
She rang for Carstairs, and told him he and the servants could all go off to bed as soon as they pleased. Once again, the servant's brows shot upwards, but he said nothing, merely vanished as silently as he had come.
Juliet smiled. "I too like tea, though I will partake of mocha if there is nothing else. People tell me tea is the more healthful of the two. Coffee is said to keep one up nights. Of course, that can be no bad thing when there are so many pleasures to be had at all hours here in the Ton."
He shivered at the word 'pleasure', which put into his head at once the thought of spending a whole night with this divine creature. Lawrence's mouth went dry with longing as he watched her place the book she had been holding on the table almost caressingly, in a manner which he was sure was designed to call attention to her lovely hands.
They were white and slender, but with a hint of underlying strength. The hardness of her fingertips when he had taken her hand had set his flesh aquiver. Obviously played the harp. The thought of the wonderful things she could do with his instrument was almost more than he could bear.
In any event, time was pressing on. In less than sixteen hours he was going to put his head in the noose, and become a married man at last. He would pass an hour here as Matthew Sampson had arranged, then head home.
With such a tight timetable, he needed to move things along with the lovely young woman. The direct approach was the only one he wished to use now; if he didn't bed her soon he was going to explode.
"But no pleasure of the Town could compare to an hour alone in your company."
She blinked at his boldness. "My. How flattering. I was warned you had a glib tongue."
"Only upon certain subjects."
Her long lashes arched upwards delicately, making her incredible eyes look even more enormous. "Really? I had heard you were a most eloquent man."
He was usually most vocal about his fantasies and requests from his female companions. But looking at this breathtaking young woman, he felt completely tongue-tied.
Such an immense lassitude flooded him that he did not even want to try to assume the dominant role. Let the little Cytherean take him wherever she would. He was certain it would be heaven.
"My eloquence fails me when you look at me with your magnificent eyes. Were I not so dazzled, I could perhaps make a feeble attempt to do your pulchritude justice. Your beauty is most certainly something to wax lyrical over," Lawrence managed to rumble out at last, when she had begun to wonder why he was staring at her so, as though he had taken leave of his senses.
"You flatter me, sir."
"Do you give my lips leave to attempt to praise your inestimable beauty?"
Juliet laughed throatily, never dreaming he was doing anything other than teasing his friend's baby sister.
The tea tray arrived just then, and she poured.
For once Lawrence did not try to teach someone the proper way to brew tea, or even very much care or taste what he imbibed.
"Very well, sir, I give you leave to try to sketch my person with your talented tongue. I have the feeling this will be most diverting."
He shivered at the double entende, calling to mind as it did all sorts of delights he had never dared try. "Your hair is like a shining nimbus, a halo to frame your angelic face. Your fine high brow is as an open book, in which men may read of your noble and intelligent character."
She laughed shortly. "Please, sir, you make me sound like Socrates or Plato."
"Plato indeed, for I am sure you can discourse as elegantly upon the nature of love."
"Surely a busy man such as yourself has not come here to have a Symposium with me?" she said with a warm smile, picking up on his allusion to one of the great philosopher's most famous works.
"Why not? You have a ready wit and tongue," he said, dropping his gaze to the level of her breasts. "And it would appear you love a good debate."
"Ah, but with a great deal of social intercourse, there can be only one winner."
He grinned in delight. "Not so, if we agree to compromise. Whilst I adore winning as much as the next man, I'm willing to concede the advantage to a worthy opponent."
She smiled at his ready witticisms. "That sounds like the best possible solution. Then we would both win. Or both lose."
"I promise you, Juliet, the loss will be as painless as possible."
She laughed in delight. "Oh my, they were right. You do have a most glib tongue."
He gave her his most seductive smile, licking his lips. "I'm delighted you're getting to experience it first-hand."
"Like all legends, I had feared it greatly exaggerated."
His breath was now a sensual puff in her dainty ear. "So too with you, my dear. But I find your reputation as a remarkable companion is all I could have wished for, and more."
She shivered at his nearness. Really, she ought not it allow him to sit so close, but where was the harm?
Juliet soon found out as she lifted her eyes to admire his god-like magnificence.
Finding him staring so intently at her, she dropped her long lashes shyly. As they lay up on her creamy petal-soft cheeks he found himself lifting his hand to her face to stroke the silky little fringes. She gasped at the intimacy of the caress. Worse was to come as his mouth captured hers possessively.
She pulled away with a gasp. "What do you think you're--"
He had rarely kissed any of his paid companions, but her lush rosebud mouth and the suggestiveness of the conversation had driven him to it. "It is a mere dueling of tongues, Madam. Just not with words."
His first taste had been so delectable, Lawrence was eager for more. He brought up his other hand to cup the small of her back, scooping her tightly to him as he leaned into her ripe curves.
Her hand came up to press against his chest in protest. But the sudden onslaught had breached her defenses, and she was startled to discover how pleasurable his kiss was.
Juliet had been subjected to various attempts upon her person and virtue ever since she had developed a bosom. This was the first time she had ever viewed such contact with anything other than mild distaste.
Now as his tongue twined with her own, she tasted champagne, a hint of vanilla, and citrus. She inhaled his marvelous lightly musky and very masculine fragrance.
For his part Lawrence tasted honey, roses and an indescribably sweet taste and fragrance all of her very own. He was even more overawed by the light womanly scent wafting off her, the scent of arousal, more divine than the most expensive Parisian perfume.
She was wonderfully feminine, a most tempting handful. Sweet, yet sultry. He sighed inwardly with contentment, losing himself in the kiss so completely that he was scarcely conscious of the movement of his hands.
Juliet stiffened for a brief second more, before flinging her arms around his neck and pressing tightly against him, granting him even more access to her ripe charms.
Her body was the most curvaceous and supple he had ever touched. His flesh leapt to attention almost painfully. The thought of her bareness underneath her gown set off all sorts of erotic images he could not help but act upon. His kiss deepened, and his fingers stroked over her breasts, peaking her nipples until they almost begged for his mouth upon them.
She gave a shiver of delight, and he groaned lightly.
"I'll warm you, love," he reassured her, running his hands over her in a rubbing motion that stimulated her circulation in more ways than one.
Her hands, which had been balled into fists, relaxed at last, and came to rest on his face. She stroked his chin and jaw, then one slid behind his neck, deepening the kiss into a soul-stirring joining of tongues which urged him on to their ultimate union.
"Juliet, my goodness, you are so lovely. "
"So are you, Lawrence."
Lawrence was not sure she could
even see him, for her eyes looked glazed over, but for the moment he did not care. The wild sweetness of the contact was driving him ever onward, and he had a vision of her completely bared to his admiring gaze.
He thought Matilda would be lovely, but this woman was perfection from head to toe. Long arms, gorgeous shoulders, ample breasts and hips, she possessed the ideal figure, without any corsets to strap her into shape, he marveled, tracing his hands over her from ribs to bottom, and feeling nothing there except ripe womanly curves and the lightest of underthings.
Her long limbs entwined with his were almost enough to have him rushing for a watercloset to assuage some of his more primitive needs. He might still have to do it yet if she kept kissing him like that, he thought desperately.
The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 5 Page 2