Page 19 of Lucien's Gamble

The damned thing was, so was he.

Without a word, Lucien strode through the open French doors and out to the garden beyond. He heard Julienne calling his name, her voice choked and pleading, but he couldn’t go back.

God, how he wanted her!His hands were shaking and his breath shuddering as he mounted his horse in the mews. He was completely undone, knowing, as he pulled away from Julienne’s home, that it would be the last time he ever spoke to her.

Chapter Seven

Julienne watched Lucien boldly, uncaring who saw her. After weeks of self-imposed exile, he’d reappeared in Society looking leaner and paler, the skin around his eyes shadowed. He didn’t look well, but to Julienne he looked wonderful. Beautifully dressed in evening attire, he stood out from the crowd, his presence so compelling and so uncivilized despite his refined exterior.

Lucien must have felt her regard. He turned his head and met her gaze, his expression altering not at all upon seeing her. He turned back to his companion, a voluptuous and obviously smitten woman of the world. An experienced femme fatale, with flame-red hair and lips, who held his arm and rubbed her full breasts against it, while Lucien sliced Julienne through the heart with the cut direct.

She reminded herself that she’d never had a claim to him. Even when he’d rashly offered marriage, Lucien had never agreed to be hers. But that didn’t stop her from feeling as if she would cast up her accounts all over the ballroom floor.

“What are you contemplating, Lady Julienne?” Fontaine asked as he leaned over her.

“I’m thinking you should ask me to dance.”

Her handsome suitor’s mouth curved in a smile that caused other women to swoon, yet affected Julienne not at all. “Another dance?” he murmured. “How deliciously scandalous.”

With consummate skill, he moved her from the edge of the dance floor and into the line of waiting couples. As the music began and they moved with the other dancers, she watched Lucien lead the redhead to a deserted corner, his hand cupping the curve of her derriere. Dismayed, Julienne missed a step. Fontaine’s arm tightened, supporting her, his quick response preventing any embarrassment for them.

“Thank you,” she said, with a grateful smile, swallowing back her misery.

Justin tilted his head in acknowledgment. “We rub along well together.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “We do.”

His gaze filled with satisfaction. Their nuptials were quickly becoming a foregone conclusion. Soon, very soon, Julienne would have to explain her brother’s plight. Raised an aristocrat, the same as she was, the present Marquess of Fontaine knew the workings of upper-tier marriages, and her situation, while pitiable, was fairly common. In fact, she was almost certain he already knew of her brother’s troubles.

When the reel ended, Justin escorted her back to Aunt Eugenia before departing for another event. Try as she might, and she did try, Julienne couldn’t stop herself from looking for Lucien. When she found him, she clasped a gloved hand over her mouth, containing a sob. Lucien was leaning over his red-haired lover, whispering in her ear and nuzzling her throat, the picture of rapturous attentiveness.

“Excuse me, Aunt Eugenia.” She turned away, her chest tight. “I have to sneeze.” She moved with haste toward the nearest hallway.

Afraid to go into the ladies’ retiring room and hazard running into other guests, Julienne made her way farther down the hall, where unlit tapers offered privacy. She slipped into the third closed door and shut it behind her. For a moment, she was blind in the darkness, but she stumbled her way to an open-sided chaise, where she threw herself down and began to cry in earnest. Arrested by grief, she didn’t hear the bolt slide home. When a large, ungloved hand covered her mouth, her eyes flew open in shock.

And clashed with Lucien’s furious gaze.

His intent was obvious as he covered her body with his own. Removing his hand, he replaced it with his lips, his wonderful scent overpowered by brandy, which filled her nostrils and flavored his kisses. Her heart raced and her chest ached as she struggled for air, her body coming to immediate arousal, needing him like it needed food and water.

Julienne tasted blood as her teeth cut the soft insides of her lips. He tasted it, too, and it seemed to inflame him, his ardor mounting until he took her mouth with savage intensity. A delicious shudder heated her body. Against her will, she arched upward into his cock, wanting him … needing him to fill the emptiness he’d left behind.

Lucien groaned at her response, his hands wandering possessively over her curves, the heat of his erection burning through her satin gown. His feet slipped between her own and then slid outward, forcing her legs as far apart as her dress would allow.

Where once there had been tender exploration and affection, there now was only pain and fury. Lucien’s hand gripped her breast convulsively, hurtfully, making her wince. Julienne’s hands moved off the chaise, sliding under his coat and waistcoat, tearing at his buttons in her desperation to get to his skin. Lucien yanked her skirts upward, ripping her stockings. The delicate threads of her gown popped, protesting his rough treatment. He lifted his mouth, and she gasped for air.

“You’ve ruined me.” His hands shook as they reached under her skirts. “I’ve been unable to bed another woman … since the last time I touched you.”

She smothered a sob, hating the thought that he’d even tried, and deeply, endlessly relieved that he’d failed.

“Julienne …”

“Go to your whore,” she cried, even as she held him tightly to her. Even as she prayed he wouldn’t.

“Damn you to hell!” he cursed, gripping her thigh with bruising strength. “You’re so willing to discard me.”

His fingers reached her sex, and he gave a tortured groan. “So wet, almost dripping. Can anyone else make you feel like this, Julienne? Or is this only for me?”

“Lucien—”

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