Seduced at Midnight

own. He didn't doubt his ability to protect Julianne from an intruder, but he seethed at his inability to safeguard her from the unkind barbs thrown at her by her parents. In spite of his profession, in spite of the violence in his past and that which he lived with every day on London's mean streets, he didn't consider himself a violent man. He used force only when necessary to protect himself or someone else from being made a victim.

But the earl's cold, dismissive unkindness toward Julianne settled like a red haze over Gideon's vision. In his mind's eye he saw himself picking up the nobleman by his perfectly tied cravat and shaking him like a terrier with a rat. Then telling him in no uncertain terms that if he ever heard him speak to her in such a cutting manner again, he'd shove his bloody teeth down his bloody throat. And while Gideon had never committed violence against a woman, the very elegant countess tested his patience to the limit. He would have taken great pleasure in telling the supercilious woman precisely what he thought of her-right after he tossed her into her very elegant privet hedges. A grim smile compressed his lips at the mental image. I'd wager that would cause a few unsightly shadows beneath your eyes, Countess.

A light pressure on his sleeve pulled Gideon from his brown study. He looked down and saw Julianne's pale hand resting against his dark jacket. Based on her quizzical expression, she'd just asked him something. He had no idea what.

'Does that meet with your approval?'

He glanced around the foyer and realized that her parents had departed. 'Er, yes.' Bloody hell, he hoped so, yet he couldn't think of anything she'd ask him to do that he'd deny her.

One corner of her mouth quirked upward. 'Where did you go? You seemed a thousand miles away.'

I was planting your arrogant father a facer and tossing your condescending mother into the hedges. 'I was here. Just… preoccupied.' He cleared his throat. 'Do you plan to retire?'

She gave him an odd look, one that made him wonder exactly what he'd missed while he was mentally planting that facer. 'Yes. As soon as we're finished.' She turned to Winslow, who was rearranging a group of walking sticks into a tall porcelain urn next to the door. 'Has the ballroom been readied?'

'Yes, Lady Julianne. It is just as you requested.'

'Excellent.' She turned back to Gideon and offered him a shy smile. 'Follow me.'

Bloody hell. He didn't know what awaited him in the ballroom, but when she looked at him like that, he'd follow her anywhere-a fact that simultaneously confounded and alarmed him. He gave a soft whistle, and Caesar followed, shadowed by Princess Buttercup, who wore what appeared to be a… tiny fur coat? Good God.

He walked beside Julianne down a series of long corridors, painfully aware of her. Her shoulder brushed his sleeve, and his nostrils flared, pulling in a sharp breath, which only served to fill his head with a tantalizing whiff of her vanilla scent.

She brushed against his shoulder again, and he barely refrained from groaning. He needed to take a quick look at whatever she wanted to show him, then send her off to bed. That way he'd know she was safe, and there would be a wall between them.

Feeling the need to say something to break the tension gripping him, he said, 'You're very… patient with your parents.'

Bloody hell. Certainly not the most diplomatic thing he could have uttered, but instead of appearing offended, she merely shrugged. 'If you were to ask them, they are the ones who are patient with me. I'm a great trial to them, you see.'

'In what way?'

She shot him a surprised sideways glance then leaned a bit closer, as if imparting a great secret. 'I'm not a boy.'

His gaze involuntarily coasted down her luscious form. 'Obviously. Why does that make you a trial?'

Her brows shot up. 'Because it renders me useless. I cannot inherit the title. Were I not so uncooperative, recalcitrant, and a trial, I would have been born what I was supposed to be: a male. Because I choose to be born a useless girl, Father's younger brother Harold will inherit, a fact that galls my father no end, especially as he detests Harold.'

The news that the earl didn't like his younger brother didn't surprise Gideon in the least. In fact, it led him to ask, 'Does your father like anyone?'

She pursed her lips and considered. 'No, I don't think so. Certainly he doesn't like me. He barely tolerates Mother.' She snapped her fingers. 'His horse. He's very fond of Zeus.'

Even though she sounded very matter-of-fact, he sensed her underlying sadness, and sympathy tugged at him. He knew all too well what it felt like to be a grave disappointment to one's father. Of course, in Gideon's case, the feeling was mutual. And he suddenly realized that that was something he and Julianne had in common, for there was no doubt she was disheartened by her father's attitude. She'd accepted it, just as he had with Jack, but accepting something and being happy about it were two very different things.

'Of course, there were times I was a trial.' She shot him a sideways glanced filled with mischief. 'Once, when I was ten, I had the audacity to go about in Brighton without my bonnet, resulting in a sunburn. Mother flew into the boughs, declaring my complexion ruined for eternity.'

He sent her a look of feigned shock. 'You are indeed awful.'

'Yes. Although my retribution didn't do me much good.'

'What did you do?'

'The next day I went to the beach and, while I kept my bonnet on, I removed my shoes and stockings and purposely allowed my feet to cook in the sun. I thought I was very clever-getting sunburned where Mother wouldn't see it.' She chuckled softly. 'I was quite done in my by own cunning when my skin ended up so tender I couldn't bear to wear shoes for the next three days.' She gave him a rueful smile. 'I'm afraid my private rebellion wasn't very successful.'

'Have you had others?'

'Other what? Sunburns?'

'Private rebellions.'

She shrugged. 'A few here and there. Looking back, not as many as I wish I'd had. But over the past few months I've remedied that somewhat.'

'Indeed? How?'

After a brief hesitation she said, 'I joined a book club with Emily, Sarah, and Carolyn.'

'I hate to be the one to inform you, but that doesn't sound very rebellious.'

'Perhaps not.'

Something in her tone made it clear there was more to know, but before he could question her further, they turned a corner, and she paused before the first door. He stopped behind her. And clenched his teeth. Her ivory nape was so close…if he leaned forward, he could brush his lips over that tantalizing bit of skin that seemed to beckon, Kiss me, kiss me.

He wasn't certain he wouldn't have obeyed the overwhelming urge, but she saved him from doing so by opening the door. Then she looked at him over her shoulder and smiled-a beautiful, shy smile that coaxed the shallow dimples in her cheeks out of hiding. 'I hope this meets with your approval.'

She entered the room, and he followed. Then halted. And stared.

Flames danced in a huge marble fireplace, casting the room in a soft glow that reflected off the glossy parquet floor. A dozen candelabras, their silver stems glowing with tapers that scented the air with beeswax, dotted the tables in the ballroom, adding to the soft light.

'Are you hosting a ball?' he asked, looking around, noting how the gilt mirrors lining the pale yellow silk-covered walls made the already huge chamber seem enormous.