Seduced at Midnight

misinterpreted his reaction earlier. If she'd been capable of speech, she would have told him he looked delicious, er, drier, but sadly, anything as complicated as stringing two words together was currently beyond her.

Her knees seemed to have turned to liquid, and she sent up a silent prayer of thanks that she was already seated. How was it possible that he could reduce her to such a boneless state with a mere look? Surely the fact that he could should have frightened her. Appalled her. Something other than breathlessly exciting her.

He approached her slowly, the towel dangling from his long fingers. He looked big and dark, deliciously damp and dangerous, and she couldn't have torn her fervent gaze from him if her very life had depended upon it. He stopped an arm's length away from her, and her gaze focused on the fascinating front of his snug breeches with the zeal a starving dog would bestow on a mutton chop. Oh, my. Those breeches left no doubt that Gideon was very perfectly and very generously made.

'Are you all right?' he asked.

Her gaze snapped up to find him watching her with an inscrutable expression. Heat flooded her cheeks. No. I am not all right. You're throwing all my fine plans into utter disarray. How could she possibly entice him to kiss her when it apparently required all her wits to remember to breathe? 'I'm fine.'

He studied her for several more seconds, then nodded slowly. 'Yes, I can see that you are. Indeed, you appear well recovered from your fright. Remarkably so.'

Was that a twinge of suspicion in his voice? Before she could decide, he continued softly, 'There's something you're not telling me.'

Clearly that was suspicion in his voice. She had no doubt that given enough time he would unearth the truth-and be very angry with her when he did. Rightfully so. He'd no doubt never forgive her. Rightfully so. No doubt never want to speak to her again, let alone kiss her. Which meant she needed to do everything she could to insure that time didn't come too swiftly.

Lifting her chin, she said, 'Contrary to what you obviously believe, I am not prone to the vapors or artfully arranging myself on fainting couches. I am made of sterner stuff and don't require days to recover from unsettling experiences.' She offered him a small smile. 'Besides, I feel very safe with you here.'

He didn't comment, merely set aside the towel then sat on the opposite end of the settee. She glanced down and noticed that mere inches separated his knee and her yellow muslin gown. Far too little distance to be proper. Far too much distance for her liking.

She cast about in her blank mind for something to say. Something to divert his attention from her remarkable recovery. Something witty and interesting that would engage him. Perhaps draw a smile from those lovely, firm lips-before he laid them upon hers. But his nearness once again rendered her mute with longing and wants so overwhelmingly strong she feared when she did finally speak they would simply just pour out of her like a dam burst free. Touch me. Kiss me. Put out this raging fire you've started in me…

He leaned toward her, and what little breath she had remaining expelled from her lungs. She felt herself leaning toward him, as if blown by a strong wind, and her lips parted in expectation.

'It would be much easier if it were in the cup,' he said softly.

She blinked. 'I beg your pardon?'

He nodded toward the table. 'The tea. It would be considerably easier to drink if it were actually poured into the cups.'

Julianne jerked her head around and stared at her hand, which still gripped the teapot's handle-the teapot that remained resting on its silver tray. A hot flush of embarrassment and self-directed annoyance rushed into her face, and she quickly lifted the pot. It was one thing for the man's presence to make her forget what she was about; it was quite another to allow his profound effect on her to be so patently obvious.

'Of course,' she murmured, filling both cups then passing him one, managing only thanks to years of experience not to slosh the hot liquid over the cup's edge.

She took extra care in selecting a trio of biscuits for his plate, using the time to compose herself. She'd longed for and had gone to great lengths for an opportunity such as this: time alone with him. She had no intention of wasting this chance to get to know him better. Both Gideon the man and Gideon the extraordinarily excellent kisser.

She passed him the plate of biscuits. 'Are you feeling warmer? Do you need more towels?'

'I'm fine, thank you.'

Yes, he certainly was. Much more than fine, actually. Supremely, extraordinarily fine. Good heavens, he was beautiful even when he chewed a biscuit. Although she couldn't deny he also appeared… displeased? Her heart sank at the thought. Certainly he didn't appear particularly happy about sitting here, sipping tea with her. A depressing state of affairs, as she was nearly giddy with excitement.

A dozen questions sprang to her lips, things she wanted to know about him. Actually, she wanted to know everything about him. Where he lived. Where he'd grown up. His family. His likes and dislikes. His favorite color. If he enjoyed reading. The details of his dangerous and adventurous work. If he thought of her even a fraction of the number of times she thought of him.

How it was possible that such a devastatingly attractive man wasn't married or spoken for.

Or was he?

The thought struck her like a cold slap, and before she could stop herself, she asked in a rush, 'Are you married?'

He looked at her over the rim of his steaming cup. His eyes narrowed slightly, then he slowly lowered his tea. 'No.'

A ridiculous wave of relief surged through her-ridiculous because, what did it matter? Whether he belonged to someone else or not was irrelevant. He could never belong to her. Still, in her heart she'd known he wasn't married. Had known he wouldn't have kissed her if a wife waited for him.

'Betrothed?' she asked.

'No. Why do you ask?' His gaze hardened. 'Do you think I would have kissed you if I had a wife or fiancee waiting at home for me?'

His words so closely mirrored her thoughts that she wondered for an insane instant if through his intense regard he could actually read her mind.

Don't lose your nerve now, her inner voice whispered. Carpe diem.

Yes. If she didn't seize the day, here and now, she might never get another chance. Before she found herself married to a man she didn't love. A man who would plunk her down in Cornwall and likely leave her there to rot. After demanding his husbandly rights. A shudder of revulsion ran through her. Dear God, the thought of the duke's hands on her made her flesh crawl. And spurred her to action.

Drawing all her courage, she answered, 'No-I believe you too honorable to kiss me if you were married. Yet, surely dozens of women are madly in love with you.'

His gaze seemed to pierce hers. 'The way dozens of men are madly in love with you?'

Julianne shook her head. 'There is no one in love with me.'

'Says a woman whose suitors litter the path leading to her door.'

'They wish to marry me. For money. They care nothing about me.'

'They seem quite besotted to me.'

'They are. With my very generous dowry.'

Something that looked like annoyance flashed in his dark eyes. 'You make it sound as if that is all a man would admire about you. Which sounds like false modesty. And a fishing expedition for compliments.'

There was no missing the rebuke in his words-one that stung. 'I'm not seeking compliments, especially from a man who clearly has a disinclination of bestowing them. Nor do I possess false