Seduced at Midnight

His gaze seemed to bore into her, heating her from the inside out. 'Not even close.' Princess Buttercup gave an enthusiastic yip and strained upward. 'Does her tongue ever stop?' he asked as the bit of pink flicked over his chin.

'When she's asleep.'

He bent down and gently set the energetic dog on the carpet. Then rising to his full height, he said firmly, 'Sit.' Princess Buttercup's tiny white bottom instantly hit the carpet.

Julianne blinked in surprise. 'Heavens, you're good at that. She normally never listens to anyone except me.' She watched Princess Buttercup cock her tiny head and look up at Gideon with adoring black button eyes, as if waiting for him to tell her what she could do next to please him.

'It's all in your tone,' Gideon said. 'Dogs respond to the voice of authority.'

Julianne pulled her gaze away from her clearly besotted pet-and really, she could hardly blame the beast-to look at Gideon. An odd flutter occurred in her chest when she saw him shoot the dog a quick wink. 'You say that as if you own a dog.'

'I do.' Unmistakable affection flickered in his dark eyes, and a slow smile curved his lips. And she could only stare. Good Lord, the man was absolutely devastating when he smiled. 'A man's dog.'

'Ah. An enormous, drooling beast with plate-sized paws.'

'Any dog is enormous compared to yours. And Caesar doesn't drool.'

'Caesar? What sort of name is that for a dog?'

He hiked up one dark brow. 'Asks a woman who shackled her pet with Princess Buttercup.'

She hiked a brow right back at him. 'And what would you have named her?'

He glanced back at the dog, who still looked up at him with adoring eyes. When his gaze returned to rest on hers, Julianne caught her breath at the heat simmering in the dark depths. 'Lucky. I'd name her Lucky.'

She had to swallow twice to locate her voice, which his intense stare had stolen. 'Why Lucky?'

'Because she belongs to you.'

The air between them seemed to crackle, and for the space of several heartbeats Julianne simply forgot how to pull it into her lungs. All she could do was stare. And want.

Then he cleared his throat, breaking the spell or whatever it was that had fallen between them. 'If you'll excuse me, I must continue with my duties.'

She roused herself from the stupor his words and unwavering regard had lulled her into. 'Duties?'

'Yes. Before your father departed, he instructed me to make certain all the windows were securely fastened.'

'Departed?'

'He left for his club immediately following our interview. You mother, by the way, departed at the same time to call upon friends.'

'Fastened?'

'You have a habit of asking one-word questions.'

Because you have a habit of making me forget how to speak English. 'My habit is to be concise.'

'I… see,' he said in a dry tone that made it clear he didn't see at all. 'Your father hired me to patrol the grounds this evening in hopes of discovering the source of the noises you've heard the past two nights and hopefully the identity of the person who wrote the note you found. In case there is some threat to you, he wishes for you to stay home for the remainder of the day. He also wanted me to make certain all the windows in the house were secure-which is the task I was undertaking when I entered this room.'

'I see.' Obviously her parents weren't concerned that Gideon would be in the house with their daughter during their absence. Of course nothing save death would keep Father from his club or Mother from her social rounds, and naturally they would consider a house filled with servants ample chaperone. Besides, Mother and Father wouldn't see Gideon as a threat to her innocence. No, they would view him merely as another person in their employ, no more noticeable or important than a lowly stable boy or footman, neither of whom would ever dare behave in an improper manner.

'Have you found all the windows to be secure?' she asked.

'I've so far found them all locked, except one.' His darkly intense gaze pinned her. 'In your bedchamber.'

The idea of him in her bedchamber momentarily unfocused her thoughts, rendering her unable to speak. Then she shook her head. 'That is odd. They were secure last night, and I haven't opened them today. Perhaps one of the maids did so.'

'Perhaps,' he said, although he didn't sound as if he believed it possible. 'The window is locked now. See to it that it stays that way. And now, if you'll excuse me, I need to continue my duties.'

Without another word, he crossed the room and tested the windows. In order to prevent herself from trotting after him and asking if he required any assistance-which he clearly did not-she busied herself with scooping up, then petting Princess Buttercup.

When Gideon finished his task, he said, 'Everything's secure.' He then made his way to the door. Before exiting the room, he turned and offered a brief nod. 'Good afternoon, Lady Julianne, and you, too, Princess Buttercup.' His gaze lingered on Julianne for several seconds. Then he said, 'Don't worry. I'll be watching this evening. And I'll put a stop to any mischief making.' Without another word he quit the room, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

Julianne pulled in a deep breath. Her father had hired him. Gideon was here. In her home. He would return this evening. And be outside all night.

Dear God, it worked. Her plan had worked.

Unable to stop herself, she performed a quick twirl. She held Princess Buttercup out at arm's length and frowned at her beloved pet. 'He would have kissed me again if you hadn't interrupted,' she scolded softly.

The tiny dog whined, then looked longingly toward the door. Julianne shook her head. 'He's gone. But…he'll be back.'

Princess Buttercup wagged her tail and emitted a happy yip. Julianne pulled her pet close and dropped a kiss on the soft fur.

'Oh, my, yes. I know exactly how you feel.'

Chapter 8

'Do you suppose there are any ghosts in the room yet?' Julianne asked, her whisper breaking the unnerving silence. She peered through the dimness at her three guests. The meager glow from the single taper set in the center of the small round table around which they sat, in a circle so tight their knees bumped, was all that relieved the gloomy darkness of her private sitting room.

The unsteady breath she'd expended to ask her question set the flame to flickering, casting unearthly shadows against the silk-covered walls. Rain splattered the windows, silver streaks blown horizontal by the howling wind that rattled the glass and whistled through the eaves. The entire atmosphere was entirely too spooky. And morbid-although morbid matched her mood quite well.

How was she going to tell her friends about her father's decision, the one he'd