Bad Boys Ahoy!

me.'

She grinned. 'I made you happy.'

Lucien pulled back. His handsome face was flushed, misty with sweat, his beautiful eyes glazed with bliss. And she had made him look like that. She laughed again.

'Julienne.' His voice was gruff but tender. 'You're happy to have made me happy?'

She gave him a quick, fierce hug. 'Of course.' Pulling away, Julienne began to rearrange her dress, restoring her appearance. She watched as Lucien righted his own clothing. When he tried to reach for her, she sidestepped with a giggle. 'Oh, no.'

His mouth curved with a heart-stopping smile. 'It's your turn, sweet.'

She ran up the wide, grassy steps toward the manse, but he caught her easily and dipped his head for a kiss. Julienne savored the heady taste of him for a moment before pulling away.

'No, Lucien,' she scolded, even as her heart raced at the seductive promise in his eyes. 'You mustn't touch me again tonight. With your reputation, it would not be amiss for you to return to the ballroom looking as you do now, but if I were to return looking that way, it would be a disaster.'

He ran his hand down her arm, grinning as he saw her shiver. 'I shall feel like a selfish cad, sweetheart, if you don't allow me to pleasure you in return.' Lucien bent his head to nuzzle her neck, but she backed away with a chastising wag of her finger.

'Now you see how I felt the other evening when you refused my touch.' Julienne turned away and neatly avoided his grasping arms. 'Remain in the garden for a few moments. I'm certain my aunt must be frantic by now. You may call on me tomorrow at two. Aunt Eugenia has an appointment, and she'll be gone for hours.'

'Where shall I meet you?'

'Come through the mews. I'll find you.'

The light in his eyes dimmed. 'You're putting yourself at great risk to see me.'

'I know.'

Lucien was right, of course. But her reputation, so vital to the well-being of her family, stood no chance against her desire to steal whatever time she could with him. 'But you're quite impossible to resist.'

He grasped her elbow when she tried to move away. 'You shouldn't like me, Julienne. I'm not good for you.'

'Oh, Lucien.' She sighed. She brushed his damp hair back from his face and watched his eyes close with pleasure at her touch. How she adored him, this beautiful, wicked man, with his carefully hidden honor. 'You act as if I have more control over this than you.'

She lifted onto her toes and pressed her lips to his with a soft moan. 'Come tomorrow. Or not. The choice is yours.' Turning quickly, Julienne left him in the garden.

'You look… respectable,' Marchant said, with wide eyes. 'What's the occasion?'

Lucien ignored him. 'Did you compile the list I requested?'

'Prospective suitors for Lady Julienne? Of course.' Marchant slid the file across the desk.

Scanning through it, Lucien grumbled, 'Why is Fontaine at the top?'

Marchant arched a brow. 'Besides being an extremely handsome marquess with seventeen estates, hundreds of servants, unlimited funds, and considered the catch of the Season by the entirety of the Beau Monde?'

Lucien snorted. 'What about his personal life?'

'He's a known womanizer, but he doesn't gamble or drink to excess. I was unable to find any evidence of his siring any bastards.'

'And socially?'

'He maintains his seat in the Lords, and he's held in high esteem by the peerage.'

Lucien dropped the folder. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes, remembering the sight of Julienne kissing Fontaine.

From that recollection came unbidden images-Fontaine holding Julienne and caressing her luscious breasts. Fontaine riding between her thighs, plunging into the silken heat of her, as Lucien could not. Sick with jealousy, he clenched his teeth until his jaw ached.

Julienne was a lady to the core. Lucien knew he could do nothing but ruin her, nothing but cause her to be ostracized by her peers, shaming her, until her spirit was crushed and the affection in her eyes faded to bitter resentment.

'Mr. Remington? Are you feeling unwell? You look feverish.'

Lucien opened his eyes. 'I'm fine.'

'Perhaps you should rest a bit. You've been working too hard lately.'

Lucien stood and collected the folder. 'No, I have an appointment.'

'With whom? I see nothing on your schedule.'

'It's none of your damn business,' Lucien growled.

'Your attire…' Marchant glanced at the file in Lucien's hand. 'Tell me you don't intend to call on Lady Julienne!'

For the first time, Lucien damned the high intelligence of his man-of-affairs.

But instead of censure, Marchant laughed. 'Are you branching out into matchmaking, Lucien? Or do you hope to collect on Montrose's debt through his brother-in-law?'

'Go to hell, Harold,' he growled.

Sobering, Marchant asked, 'Are you quite certain you know what you're doing?'

'Of course.'

'And what is it you're doing?'

Lucien paused on the threshold of his office. 'The honorable thing. For once.'

'Marriage prospects?' Julienne gaped at him, her dark eyes wide with disbelief.

Lucien clutched his hat in his hands. His throat was so tight, it was hard to swallow. Seeing Julienne's golden beauty in daylight made him think of all the things they'd never be allowed to do together. They would never go for rides in the park or strolls down the street. They could never enjoy a picnic or even the simple act of tea. Hell, he'd had to use subterfuge merely to exchange a few words with her. The harsh reminder strengthened his resolve. He had to remove her from his reach before he destroyed her.

Lowering himself to the chaise, Lucien nodded. 'I know your brother has deserted you, sweet. You must marry quickly, and I thought perhaps I could assist you with that endeavor.'

She set the folder on the seat between them, her eyes downcast, hiding her thoughts.

'Aren't you even going to look at it?'

'Certainly.' She cast him a sidelong glance. 'But you know far more about my circumstances than I do about yours. So, before I choose my future husband, I want to discover all there is to know about you.'

He scowled. The less she knew about him, the better. 'I dislike discussing myself.'

'Why? I find you fascinating. Your deportment is faultless, your manners impeccable, your taste excellent. You've obviously had some schooling-'

'Didn't you listen to Fontaine last night? I'm a mongrel, a blight on Society.'

'No, you are not,' she argued. 'I'm sorry you overheard that.'

'It was nothing I haven't heard before.' He smiled and reached for her hand. 'Although I thank you for defending my honor.'

The feel of her skin against his was heaven. And hell. He glanced down at their joined hands, hers so pale, so tiny and delicate. Lucien remembered the feel of those hands on his body, their gentle exploration belying her ravenous hunger for him. Knowing he would soon lose her touch forever made his heart ache.

Julienne bit her lower lip. 'Why say such horrid things about you merely because you are in trade?'

''Tis more than that, Julienne.' He was silent for a moment, wanting to hide the things she didn't know. But the moment was intimate, her gaze tender, and he found himself sharing the things he discussed with no one. 'I'm a bastard by birth.'

She didn't even blink. 'You have no control over such things!'

'It gets worse,' he said dryly, squeezing her hand in silent appreciation. 'I am the product of a long-term affair between a courtesan and a nobleman.'

'Good heavens!'