Page 6 of Lucien's Gamble

“You can start by calling me Lucien,” he suggested. “Then you should probably begin screaming. Most debutantes would have run from the room in terror by now. I’m a stranger to you except for my scandalous reputation, which decries me as a hedonistic seducer of women.”

She smiled. “I’m not afraid of you. You’ve no need to force yourself on a woman.”

“Who said I would have to force you?” he purred seductively.

“Good grief,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “You deliberately cultivate your image, don’t you? I’d wager you’re not as bad as they say.”

One side of his mouth twitched in amusement. “No,” he agreed. “I’m much worse. If you weren’t the purest, sweetest, most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, I would have already had you on your back, with your heels in the air.”

Julienne’s mouth parted in surprise, and she looked away, her face flushed. He was a perfect scoundrel to say such things, but she didn’t care. Strong, virile, and devastatingly handsome, Lucien Remington was her fantasy come to life. He had been since the first moment she’d seen him at the Milton country rout.

Taller than most of the other men there and heavily muscled like a common laborer, Lucien had permanently imprinted himself on her memory when he’d inclined his head toward her with a rakish wink. She’d not passed one night in the month since without dreaming of him in ways no proper lady would dream about any man, not even their husbands.

Ah, what she wouldn’t give to be brazen and desirable, if only for a moment. She would love to be the kind of woman who could retain the interest of a man like Lucien. The thought made her sigh aloud.

“Bloody hell.”

She looked up in surprise and was startled by the anguished look on his face.

“What is it?” she demanded. “Why do you look like that?”

Lucien stood and rounded the backside of the chair, putting the piece of furniture between them as if she posed some grave threat to his person. “Becauseyoulook likethat!I know what you’re thinking, and you must cease. Now.”

“My thoughts happen to be none of your business.” She waved toward the door. “The hour is late, and I’m tired. I’m undressed, and—”

“I wanted to watch you sleep.”

Julienne blinked. “Beg your pardon?”

“You asked me why I was here.” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to watch you sleep.”

She frowned, confused. “Why would you want to do that?” Lucien Remington, notorious voluptuary, watching hersleep?How much more intimate that seemed than ravishment.

She studied him, noting his hands gripping the back of the chair so tightly his knuckles turned white. It couldn’t be possible that he was interested in her. It was so against his known nature, she simply couldn’t credit it. He preferred mature, and usually married, women. “Are you feeling unwell, Mr. Rem—er, Lucien? Perhaps you are slightly in your cups?”

“I amnotin my cups!” he growled. “But Iamdecidedly unwell. I’m coming undone. And damn it, the way you look at me tells me you feel the same. I’m not an honorable man, and I do not aspire to be one. I’ll take your innocence and walk away without looking back. You’ll be ruined, Julienne. I’ve been panting after you for weeks.Weeks.”He shoved away from the chair and began to pace. “I wish to God you had not come into my club.”

Julienne gaped. From the moment she’d arrived in London at the start of the Season, her life had seemed to turn completely upside down. Her brother was missing, creditors hounded Montrose Hall, and Lucien Remington wanted to bed her. She couldn’t decide which event was most disturbing. Her skin grew hot and tight, her body achingly uncomfortable.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” he snapped. “Shout at me. Call me a cad, or worse, if you have the coarse vocabulary to do so. Tell me to leave.” When she just stared at him, wide-eyed with incredulity, Lucien approached her and grabbed her by the shoulders. He shook her roughly. “Dosomething! Anything,damn it, to make me go.” His fingers kneaded restlessly against her skin, as if he couldn’t bear not to touch her.

She stared mutely at the ferocious man who held her. His voice, his words, his countenance—never in her life had she seen such passion. To think she had inspired such a display shocked her to silence.

And thrilled her.

“Tell me to leave,” he repeated harshly. “Before I do something we’ll both regret.”

“Go,” she said, her voice so soft it was less than a whisper. But it was enough. Lucien released her and walked away with angry strides.

As the door closed behind him, Julienne felt an odd panic, as if once he left she would never see him again, which was partially true. She would never be allowed to speak to him, to touch him, since simply looking at him was a grave offense. Once he walked out that door, her time with him would be over. Forever.

And she simply couldn’t bear it.

“Lucien!” she cried in dismay, willing him to come back to her.

Instantly, the door swung open, and he was in her arms.

Chapter Three

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