Seduced at Midnight

modesty. I know I am admired for my looks. I simply take little pleasure from that fact.'

'Really? Why is that?'

There was no missing his skepticism, and she debated how honest to be with him. She'd planned to use this time to find out more about him, yet he'd somehow turned the tables on her. Still, if she told him something of herself, perhaps he would be more inclined to reciprocate. 'Do you truly wish to know?'

'Indeed. I cannot wait to hear why a princess such as yourself doesn't wallow in her looks.' He leaned back and raised his brows, looking like a man expecting to be entertained by a troupe of jesters.

Vexing man. How did he manage to make her desire him yet wish to shake him at the same time? Annoyance rippled through her, nudging aside her shyness. 'Wallow? Has anyone ever told you you're condescending?'

'Condescending?' he repeated in an incredulous tone. 'A commoner like me? Never. Has anyone ever told you you've no idea what you're talking about?'

'As a matter of fact, yes. Almost daily. Neither of my parents credit me with the least bit of intelligence. They think the only thing I'm capable of is being decorative-and they demand that I be so. You cannot begin to understand how much I loathe being nothing more than an ornament. As if I have no thoughts or feelings. No ambitions.' She moved her leg so that her knee touched his. 'Or desires.'

His teacup froze halfway to his lips. His hot gaze bored into hers for several seconds, then he slowly set aside his cup and rose. He backed several steps away from the settee until he stood before the hearth. Julianne might have been thoroughly discouraged were it not for how his damp pants clung to the irrefutable evidence of his desire for her.

'What are you doing?' he demanded.

She huffed out an impatient breath. Clearly any form of subtlety was lost on this man. 'I'm trying to get you to show me what you referred to this afternoon-just before we were interrupted-as your best. If you'll recall, you were about to kiss me.'

'That… shouldn't have happened.'

Her heart sank. 'And last night?'

'You know the answer to that as well as I do.'

She rose and joined him near the fire, stopping when a mere arm's length separated them. Longing raced through her, and the sense of urgency, of time running out, of her parents soon returning suddenly overwhelmed her. Capturing his hand between both of hers, she gripped his fingers tightly.

'I know what answer I'm expected to give, but it isn't what's in my heart. I… I have this recurring dream… a nightmare, actually. I'm in the middle of a crowd, trapped inside a glass coffin. I scream and cry and pound on the glass, but no one pays the slightest attention. They all just go about their business as if I'm not there. I'm trying to tell people that I'm alive. Tell them what I want, my hopes and dreams, but no one listens. No one cares.'

He frowned. 'That's just a dream-'

'No. It's my life. And I'm tired, so tired of imagining, of dreaming. Of wanting but never having.'

An incredulous sound passed his lips. 'What are you talking about? You have more than anyone I've ever known.'

She felt him tugging his hand from hers, felt her chance slipping away. She tightened her grip, then pressed their joined hands to the center of her chest. 'Yes, if you count gowns or jewels or invitations to parties.'

'And you don't?'

'As anyone would, I enjoy the creature comforts provided by my position. I've no desire to be cold or hungry. But once those necessities are seen to… fancy gowns and parties are not important to me. Not nearly as much as other things.'

'Such as?'

'Love. Laughter. Companionship. Desire. Romance. Passion. They are what I long for.' She lifted one hand and skimmed her fingers over his brow. Down his cheek, to his firm jaw, his faint stubble rasping against her skin. For several seconds he remained immobile under her touch. Then he jerked away as if she'd burned him.

'Stop that,' he said, his voice resembling a low growl.

He was breathing hard, and his eyes glowed like ebony coals. Unable to stop herself, she stepped forward and erased the distance he'd just put between them. She placed her hands on his chest, her palms absorbing the rapid beat of his heart. Looking into his eyes, she whispered, 'I can't.' Her fingers splayed over the hard muscles of his chest.

He gripped her wrists, halting her explorations. 'You're playing with fire.'

'Am I? It doesn't seem so.'

'One of us has to show some restraint.'

'Really? Well, in that case, I congratulate you, as you've shown a frustrating amount thus far.' She took another step forward. Mere inches now separated them. His scent wrapped around her: rain mixed with a hint of damp linen and something else she couldn't define except to know it belonged to him alone. She could feel the heat emanating from his body. 'This afternoon you were about to kiss me when we were interrupted.'

'That was a mistake.'

'The interruption? Yes, I agree. One I'd like very much to remedy. Right now.'

His fingers tightened on her wrists. 'Kissing you was a mistake, Lady Julianne. One I don't want to repeat.'

'You didn't mind calling me Julianne earlier… Gideon. And as for you not wanting to repeat our kiss…' She yanked her hand from his grasp and ran it swiftly downward, intending to point to the evidence of his desire. But he moved, setting her slightly off balance, and the back of her hand brushed the hard bulge in his breeches.

'Bloody hell.' The obscenity was a low-pitched hiss on his quick intake of breath.

The bulge pulsed against her fingers in a manner so fascinating she couldn't pull her hand away. She swallowed and forced herself to boldly reach for what she wanted so badly. Gideon's passion. Now. Before she was entombed with the duke for a lifetime.

Summoning her courage, she brushed her fingers down his length. 'This tells me you want to. Very much. Gideon, the only time I've ever felt free of that glass coffin is when you kissed me.'

Instead of pulling away as she feared he might, he gazed at her through half- closed eyes and gave a slow thrust into her hand. The feel of him, so hard and hot, reduced her knees to porridge.

'I'm not some fancy, polite aristocrat with ice flowing in his blue-blooded veins that'll treat you like a fragile bit of glass, Julianne.' His voice sounded scraped from his throat.

'To which I can only say thank God.'

The raw hunger in his eyes all but devoured her. He wrapped one strong arm around her and jerked her against him. 'You want a kiss? Very well, I'll oblige you, Princess. But be warned: you're about to find out precisely what a few swipes of the tongue can accomplish.'

Chapter 11