Page 18 of Lucien's Gamble

“And what of your happiness?” he asked harshly.

Julienne’s smile was brittle. “I am one of those born with only one choice.”

Lucien swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the folder. He recalled every name it contained, men who were considered his superior because their parents had married while his had not. He had more money than every one of them, more property, more affection for Julienne.

If she would give up her station for him, he would give her the world.

Words tumbled out of his mouth before he thought them through. “If you are so open to having a philandering husband, why not wed me?”

The file slipped from her hands, papers spilling out and spreading all over the floor. She dropped to her knees, scrambling to gather the sheets together.

Lucien joined her, noting the shaking of her hands and her rapid breathing. He said nothing, startled by what he’d asked and afraid to say something that would affect her decision.

Long, torturous moments passed in silence.

“Aren’t you going to answer?” he asked finally, unable to bear the suspense any longer.

“Beg your pardon?” She turned her head to look at him, her expression bemused.

“Bloody hell! I just asked you to marry me.”

Her lashes lowered, shuttering her gaze. Julienne hesitated before choosing her words carefully. “While I admit to the need for haste, I’m not desperate. I have several excellent prospects. There is no need for you to make such a sacrifice.”

Lucien stared blindly ahead. He’d never imagined proposing to anyone, but he also never imagined being refused. He felt ill. Maybe Marchant was right. Perhaps hehadcaught the fever.

He set his hand atop hers, stilling its movement. “I realize I cannot compete socially with your other suitors, Julienne, but financially I can hold my own with any of them.” He steeled himself inwardly and then bared his thoughts. “I want you in my bed. I need to be inside you so badly, I’m about to lose my mind, and I’m beginning to think one time won’t be enough. It might take weeks,months,to rid myself of this craving. It doesn’t matter how many women I take, and hell, I’ve had at least a dozen since—”

“Stop!” she cried, leaping to her feet. “I don’t want to know.”

Lucien straightened, staring at the top of her downcast head. “Julienne.” His voice dropped seductively. “I’m extremely wealthy. I can help your brother, and I can give you everything Fontaine can, except for a title. Is a title so important to you?”

She lifted her chin, her gaze soft and liquid with tears. “No. A title does not matter to me, Lucien.”

He reached out and captured her hand. “Then take me,” he urged, sweat misting his skin. “I’ll take care of everything. I’ll take care of you.”

“Oh, Lucien,” Julienne breathed. “I cannot.”

“Why?”

Her chin quivered. “Because I couldn’t bear to share you if you were mine.”

Lucien was stunned. “But you will tolerate a peer’s indiscretions? I don’t understand.”

“I know.” She sighed miserably. “We must forget this conversation. Your friendship is important to me, Lucien. I—”

“Friendship?”His hands tightened brutally on hers. She winced, but he couldn’t make himself release her. “We are more than friends, Julienne. My fingers have been inside you. I’ve held your naked body against mine. You have taken my cock in your mouth—”

She covered his mouth with her hand. “Please, don’t be angry. I would never take advantage of your desire by forcing you into marriage. You would be miserable tied down in such a way, which would, in turn, make me miserable. I can meet with you. We can arrange to—”

“You will fuck me,” he snapped, “but not wed me?” He broke into a sweat, even though his heart was cold.

A tear rolled down her cheek, breaking him, and he fought back in self-defense.

“You act as if my background and social standing were of no consequence to you, but that’s a lie, Julienne. You consider me beneath you. Not worthy of marriage. I’m good enough to fuck, but nothing more.” Lucien dropped her hand and turned away. He didn’t trust himself to touch her. He might do something completely idiotic—like drop to his knees and beg.

“That’s not true!” she cried. “You know that’s not true.”

He shot her a furious glance, and the sight of her tore at him. Her lush mouth, which had loved his body so ardently the night before, was quivering, and she was struggling to hold back tears.

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