Notorious Rake, Innocent Lady. Bronwyn Scott

to ruin her, her green eyes shrewdly assessing him as she made her plea; Julia naked on his bed, weeping for his caress as he initiated her to the pleasures of lovemaking; Julia crying out as the final moment of their joining took her to untold heights, her hips arched high into him, her head thrown back on the pillow as she gave way to unabashed ecstasy.

      At that moment, all pretence of doing a duty, of thwarting her fate with her madcap scheme, had fled from her thoughts. He’d seen her eyes darken the moment she’d submitted fully to the pleasure between them, when business had ceased. She’d been utterly his, and utterly without artifice.

      Everything in that instant had been truth. Not just for her, for him, too. He’d cried out at his pinnacle, feeling his own climax completely, devoid of the usual restraint he practised. It was his wont to give pleasure, not to take his own, not to give in to anything beyond the physical fulfilment of the act.

      Last night had been disturbingly different. He’d found he could not hold back the emotional tide that surged at the sounds of Julia’s bliss beneath him. He had given into temptation—a temptation that he rarely felt, if ever—and joined her at the height of her rapture.

      The act of doing so was somewhat alarming, perhaps a sign of vulnerability in himself that he had thought long suppressed. Perhaps he wasn’t as changed by his years abroad, his studies of the human condition, his adventures in far-off lands, as he had believed. There was danger in that. He’d been exiled once before for behaving rashly on behalf of a woman. He’d promised himself not to let such foolishness take him again.

      Julia stirred beside him, nesting her buttocks against his groin provocatively in her sleep. He flared to life, his body responding immediately to the inadvertent invitation. He tamped it down. He’d taken her twice more after their first joining. She’d be sore this morning. He should refrain until she’d had a hot bath and soaked away the initial soreness. But neither could he lay by her side, playing the neutral eunuch. If he was to grant her a respite, he had to keep himself occupied.

      Paine rolled over and out of the bed in a single, quick motion before his body could persuade his conscience to act otherwise. He would see about some breakfast. His new piece of property might be ideal for a quiet assignation—indeed, he’d only picked up the key two days ago—but as such, it was without staff or supplies. Paine pulled on trousers and shirt. He cast a last glance at Julia, sleeping peacefully, oblivious to the arousal he was fighting on her behalf. He would hurry so that Julia wouldn’t awake alone.

      Outside, the sun was up, its brightness something Paine realised he hadn’t seen in quite some time. The streets were strangely quiet as well, something Paine noticed immediately, so at odds was the deserted scene with the crowded bustle he usually contended with. Of course it was London and the streets were never truly deserted. Even now, vendors and workers straggled down the streets to work.

      Paine spied a milkmaid turning at the corner, no doubt seeking out the alleyway leading to the back entrance of a neighbouring mansion. He followed her. Milk would be a good start to breakfast. If the milkmaids were just coming out, he judged the time to be a little past six o’clock. Six o’clock! Hell’s bells, it was early! The stark realisation hit him with a feeling of disbelief. It had been ages since he’d seen the city through morning eyes. Early it might be, yet he felt refreshed and ready to take on the day.

      Three-quarters of an hour later, Paine stood in the doorway of his bedchamber, carrying a tray laden with the breakfast treasures he’d culled from the early-morning vendors. He indulged in the sight of Julia dozing. He smiled as she turned over, starting to wake. Paine set the tray on the low table near the bed and eased on to the bed at her side, waving an orange beneath her nose.

      ‘Mmm.’ Julia gave a breathy sigh, her eyes opening at the citrusy scent.

      ‘Good morning, darling.’ Paine reached out to push a tangle of hair back from her face.

      Julia stretched, her movements drawing the loose covering sheet down to reveal a tantalising glimpse of a breast, reminding Paine that his hand had lain against the creamy flesh only an hour ago. The erection he’d subdued with his breakfast errand rose in defiance. She turned her green gaze on him, already sharp, not the least bit dreamy from sleep. ‘What time is it?’

      ‘It’s a bit past seven o’clock,’ Paine said, taken aback by the question. It was not what he’d expected. Most women didn’t ask him what time it was when they awoke and saw him kneeling at their bedside.

      But Julia had proven last night that she was not most women and he’d do well to remember it. Most women didn’t invoke the depth of feeling that had accompanied his climax. He’d been tutored in the arts of the sexual sutras, learning the mastery of yin over yang in the arms of India’s exotic concubines. Most women didn’t have the ability to unman him as Julia had last night.

      ‘Seven o’clock!’ Julia sat upright, the sheet sliding to her waist in her agitation.

      ‘I know it’s early, but…’ Paine said boyishly, tempted to reach for her and put off breakfast a while longer.

      She didn’t let him finish. ‘Early? How can you say that? It’s late. I never meant to stay this long! How could you have let me sleep the entire night away? I thought you understood.’

      She was scolding him? She never meant to stay the whole night? She’d meant to slip away after their coupling? Wasn’t that his line? This was all backwards. He was supposed to be the one leaving in the dark of night. He never actually slept when he bedded a woman. He left as soon as he could. Paine stared at her in utter confusion.

      ‘Julia, whatever are you talking about?’

      ‘I have to leave. I have to get back to my aunt and uncle’s. With luck, they won’t have checked my room yet.’ She threw an accusing glare at him as if this was all somehow his fault. ‘I meant to be home by two o’clock, long before they came traipsing back.’ With luck, she’d even held hopes of returning to the ball before it was over. The Moffat rout had a reputation for running until dawn.

      Her tone pricked Paine’s temper. He rose from the bed, hands on hips. ‘Dancing, deflowering and back by two. That was an ambitious agenda, Julia,’ he drawled.

      ‘It’s what had to be done and, now that it is done, I have to go and finish what I have put in motion. Ruination isn’t much good unless I go back and prove it.’ Julia gave a belated blush and reached for the sheet, making an effort to rise modestly from the bed with the sheet draped about her. ‘I will just dress and go, if you don’t mind.’

      Her haughty tone didn’t sit well with Paine. He advanced towards her. ‘I find I do mind, Julia, quite a lot. This is my home and my chamber. I will not be dismissed from it like a common servant.’ With luck, she’d step backwards and run into the bed. Then he’d have her where he wanted her.

      No such luck. Julia stood her ground, even though they stood only inches from each other. ‘You can’t stop me.’ She stared him down, giving no quarter with her challenge.

      Paine’s eye caught the glimmer of aqua silk heaped in the corner. A wicked smile took his lips. He let his gaze linger on the heap long enough to draw Julia’s attention.

      She instantly divined the plan that had spawned his devil’s smile. ‘No, you wouldn’t dare.’ She barely got the words out and the race for the dress was on.

      It was not an easy race. Julia didn’t play fair.

      Julia shrieked and shoved a chair in his path to slow him down. Paine shoved it aside and reached for her, laughing at her nerve. ‘Vixen!’

      He succeeded only in grabbing a handful of sheeting as she spun out of the linen and darted to put a table between them.

      She was fully naked and panting, her auburn tresses falling over the heaving globes of her breasts as she stared at him across the table top. Paine was gloriously aroused. ‘Temptress! Godiva!’

      ‘Call me what you like, but I’ve got you now!’ she crowed, her anger forgotten in the thrill of the race. Near-triumph