Bad Boys Ahoy!

Julienne fought the tears that threatened. 'Allow me to explain something to you, Lucien. Something men of your sort don't seem to comprehend. Women are feeling creatures, at least they are until they've been hurt enough to no longer care. We reserve parts of our soul for the men who are important in our lives, places where trust and respect reside. Once those feelings are lost, you cannot reclaim them. Once they are dead, they cannot be revived.' She shoved his hand away from her face. 'I've heard your apology, and yet it means nothing to me. You want me to make you feel better, to tell you I understand and forgive you, but I don't understand.' She turned to leave.

'I didn't touch her,' he said quickly in a voice so hoarse she barely recognized it. 'Since that day I came to your home, I haven't been with another woman. I've been faithful to you.'

Julienne turned, searching his face, and found him in deadly earnest. 'Why?' she asked simply.

'You are the only woman I want.' Lucien cupped her face with both hands. 'When you rejected my proposal, I lost my head. I'm not accustomed to being denied something I want so desperately. I am so very sorry, Julienne. You don't have to forgive me. All I ask is that you believe my sincerity.'

His mouth lowered slowly, giving her the opportunity to pull away. With heartrending tenderness, he kissed away the tears she hadn't known were falling. Julienne turned her head to capture his lips, and she was lost. Lost in his scent, his touch. Lost in him.

'I believe you,' she whispered.

Lucien's mouth brushed along her jaw and down her throat. 'Why are you wearing this high-necked dress?' he murmured.

'To hide the bruises.'

He froze, his body turning hard as stone. His hands left her face and reached for the buttons on the back of her gown, his impatient fingers working with obvious familiarity of a woman's clothing.

'Lucien, no,' she protested, agonizingly aware of the thinness of the curtain that separated them from the prying eyes of the ton. 'Not here. Not now.'

He dipped his head, hushing her with a kiss. Soon her gown gaped in the back, and he pushed it to the floor. He growled, his fingers brushing over their own prints left in the tender skin of her breasts. 'Jesus,' he breathed.

Pulling her to him, he kissed her throat. His mouth wandered downward, kissing every mark he'd left on her. The touch of his lips was gentle, reverent. He whispered anguished apologies against her skin, and as he dropped to his knees in front of her, she could feel the wetness of his tears soak through her chemise.

The depth of his remorse, his openness of feeling, his willingness to show her his vulnerability, stunned her. This was a side of Lucien she had never seen. Julienne wondered if anyone had ever seen it.

As he pushed up her chemise, his hot breath ruffled the curls of her sex. She shivered, her blood heating, her heart racing. Lucien groaned and buried his mouth between her legs. Slipping a hand behind her knee, he lifted her leg free of her gown and pulled it over his shoulder, opening her to his ravishment.

Gentle fingers parted her, and Julienne sagged against the wall as his tongue delved deeper inside, licking her as if he savored the taste of her. She stared down, watching him, and her heart clenched in her chest. She could never have imagined the sight of the powerful Lucien Remington on his knees before her, his gorgeous eyes bright with grief and other more frightening emotions. With long, slow, sinuous laps he cherished her. He loved her leisurely, as if they had all the time in the world, as if they were alone and not mere steps away from ruination.

Melancholy welled up inside her. 'Lucien,' she whispered as his tongue thrust into her. 'My darling.'

Her fingers slipped through his hair and wrapped around his scalp. His tongue probed deep, and she bit her lip to hold back her cries. The coiling tension wound tighter, and her hips thrust forward, seeking to deepen the contact. She rode his mouth, undulating against him, her lips parted as she fought to breathe. He latched onto her and suckled with expert, gentle force, knowing just what she needed.

Her back arched, her breath seized, her fingers tugged at his hair as she came against his mouth. Her orgasm rolled through her, over her, releasing the relentless tension that had gripped her for over a week. A week in which she'd fallen in love and then had her heart broken.

He soothed her tremors with soft laps, gentling her before rising to his feet.

Boneless, Julienne stood unmoving as Lucien dressed her. He drew her against his chest as he buttoned the back of her gown. When he was done, he rocked her gently in his arms. Never in her life had Julienne felt more cherished.

'It's the last set,' he whispered.

'I must go,' she sighed. 'Montrose will be looking for me.'

Lucien nuzzled her throat. 'This set is reserved for me.'

'Be serious,' she murmured, kissing the sharp line of his jaw. 'You cannot continue to ravish me in public venues. We'll-'

'I am serious. Montrose is aware of my intentions and has promised to offer no objection. Say yes, Julienne.' He kissed the tip of her nose. 'I'm an excellent dancer.'

'You're also a conceited rogue.'

'Ah.' His smile stunned her wits. 'But you wouldn't wish me to be any other way. Now, go out to the ballroom and wait for me.'

Tossing a skeptical glance over her shoulder, Julienne exited the alcove and moved down the hallway to the ballroom. Within moments, Lucien was bowing over her hand. She glanced at Hugh, who scowled.

'Do you wish to dance with him?' he asked, giving her the choice.

'Yes,' she breathed, waiting for his refusal and astonished when he offered a curt nod to Lucien.

'How did you do it?' she asked as Lucien led her to the line of dancers with a sure hand and a confident step. His powerful body moved gracefully, and she found herself eagerly anticipating the upcoming cotillion.

'Never mind,' he said, grinning. 'I believe I'm in heaven. Your taste flavors my mouth, and your scent clings to my nostrils.' He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and sighed.

Julienne blushed. 'You say the most wicked things, Lucien.'

He raised a mocking brow. 'You do the most wicked things, my love. Underneath that prim-and-proper exterior is a wanton dying to be satisfied. And I am just the repentant rake to doit.'

'Repentant?' She arched a brow.

'Definitely.'

She glanced around furtively before whispering, 'Do you really think so?'

'Think what?' he asked. 'That I'm the man to satisfy you?' His mouth curved with devilish amusement. 'Do you doubt it? I think I've proven myself rather well, considering I haven't been able to use all of my endowments.' His grin widened. 'You do remember what I told you about challenging a man's virility?'

'No, not that.' Her blush deepened. 'I meant the part about my being a wanton.'

He laughed. 'You liked that, did you?'

She blushed. 'It's a relief to know you find me…'

'Passionate? Desirable? Interesting? Beautiful?'

Julienne laughed, heedless of the scandalized eyes that watched them cross the dance floor. 'You make me feel like I am all of those things. I thank you for that.'

'And you make me happy. So it is I who must thank you.'

Her eyes dropped shyly.

'Julienne.'

She glanced at him.

'I would like to take you on a picnic tomorrow.'

'Montrose would never-'

'Leave him to me.'

Julienne narrowed her eyes. 'Even if that were true, I've already agreed to accompany Lord Fontaine to a literary luncheon tomorrow.'

Lucien's lips tightened grimly. 'The day after, then.'

She nodded. 'If you can arrange to garner my brother's approval, I would love to go on a picnic with you, Lucien.'

She knew what he wanted. He wished to say good-bye, and she was touched he wanted to make it a memorable event. He cared for her, perhaps more than he knew, but he would never change, and she would never ask him to. Eventually he would resent her for the marital restrictions imposed on his lifestyle. No matter how much