The Secret Life of Lady Julia Read Online Free Page A

his lips to refrain from taking it out and looking at it, and tasted champagne. He’d never kissed anyone like Julia Leighton. None of the rich widows, the bored ton wives, the milkmaids or whores he’d known compared. He marveled at Temberlay’s stupidity in not knowing how lucky he was. What kind of man could resist the delectable charms of a woman like Julia? They had been betrothed for years. Surely by now Temberlay had claimed his right to touch her, bed her.
    He shook his head, freeing his mind from that image, so he could find the damn safe and get the hell out—
    The rustle of silk caught him by surprise.
    She stepped out of the shadows. A mixture of fear and unexpected pleasure kept him rooted to the floor.
    “How did you know I was here?” she asked him. “I thought—”
    He knew what she thought, that he’d left the ball—which he would have if he’d had any sense at all—and she’d never see him again. She would have wondered about her lost earring longer than she’d remember him. Suddenly the diamond bob weighed heavy in his pocket, and he could feel it against his breast like biblical guilt.
    Though shalt not steal. Not kisses, or jewels.
    But a man had to eat.
    He caught another hint of her perfume—it was on his clothes, would stay with him for days. Violets. It was a sophisticated, unusual scent for such a young woman. It spoke of hidden depths, secrets. Most debutantes wore lavender or rosewater.
    “I—” He was lost for words. He glanced at the small landscape painting on the wall behind her, which probably hid the safe. For some reason, men like Carrindale always chose to hide their treasures behind nondescript art that wouldn’t otherwise have a place in their elegant homes. He could hardly stride to the picture, take it down, and ask Julia for the combination to the safe.
    He supposed in other circumstances a gentleman—or even a rogue like him, if he had any sense—would bow, make a joke of his inexplicable presence in this dark room, say he mistook the door for the way to the jakes, and take his leave before there was trouble.
    But he was already in trouble. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, the way the faint light outlined the shape of her neck and shoulders, the shadowed vee between her breasts, the ghostlike shimmer of her gown. The glitter of her jewels paled before the gleam of her eyes. His mouth watered.
    “I—” He tried again, but she gave a desperate little sigh and rushed toward him. He opened his arms, caught her. Her lips landed on his, and it began all over again.
    He was powerless to resist. He wanted this woman. He couldn’t recall a time when he hadn’t been in complete control with a lover. He never lost himself to passion. Women were a means to an end, for physical gratification or gain. He offered them pleasure, took what he wanted, and left before they could beg him to stay.
    But it was different with Julia, and he couldn’t begin to say why. Perhaps because she was forbidden to him, belonged to another man. Was it the thrill of stealing something he otherwise couldn’t have? No, it was the lady herself—beautiful, trusting, half innocent, unconsciously seductive. She’d set his blood on fire with a simple stolen kiss in a dark garden, and now—
    He knew exactly what she wanted.
    Him.
    It wasn’t rescue this time. It was plunder. She was making soft sounds as she sought his mouth, pressed her lips and her hips to his. He lifted her into his arms, carrying her the few steps to the deep leather settee, laying her down, his body on hers, as desperate as she. Her arms tightened, pulled him nearer. He was wrapped in her perfume, mesmerized by her eager kisses. She let him raise her skirts, slide his fingers up the silk of her calves, thighs, hips.
    Her hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, then fell away as he found the wet center of her.
    “Oh,” she sighed, and his fingers played over her, bringing her pleasure before he took his own. She