Read Online Nicole Jordan by The Prince of Pleasure - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: The Prince of Pleasure
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Dare was using all his skill to drive her even higher. She glimpsed him as her head fell back in surrender; his teeth were clenched, his handsome features contorted with pain and pleasure as he rocked her against him.
Then rapture engulfed her. She gripped his arms fiercely as an incoherent sound of panic sounded from her throat, but his mouth captured her scream. Wildly she dug her nails into his muscles as she erupted in a fiery, shimmering explosion, but Dare responded ruthlessly, his straining thighs forcing hers even wider to prolong her ecstasy.
The powerful convulsions left her so dazed, she could only cling to Dare as he drove himself to his own convulsive climax. When his throes of passion finally diminished, she sagged against him, exhausted.
The tremors faded slowly. She could still feel him pulsing within her own sated flesh, could hear his heart hammering beneath her cheek.
When finally he pulled away, leaving her tender and aching, she could have wept.
He was silent for a moment as he fastened his breeches.
“I think we should call this a draw,” he observed impassively, his voice husky yet without inflection of any kind.
Julienne stiffened, suddenly realizing what she had just allowed to happen. Her mind spinning, she glanced down at her wanton dishevelment and drew a sharp breath, aghast. Sweet heaven.
Flushing with shame, she pushed down her skirts and fumbled to straighten her chemise and bodice. She could feel Dare’s gaze on her, yet she looked anywhere but at him. She felt stripped bare of all defenses, her emotions naked and exposed.
Dear God, what had she done? She hadn’t expected their lovemaking to go all the way, hadn’t meant for their passion to flare out of control. She had only intended to tease Dare, to torment him as he was set on doing to her. She hadn’t wanted him to win so effortlessly.
Her stomach wrenched. Dare had called this battle a draw, but he had gotten precisely what he wanted—her panting and moaning with desire for him. Damn him.
And damn her.
Despising herself, Julienne stole a glance at him. Was he feeling the same profound regret that she was?
He didn’t seem happy about their carnal lapse. His face was expressionless, with no indication of the dismay that was swamping her, but at least there was no sign of triumph, either.
Then he spoke.
“Come, darling, I will take you home,” he drawled, a cynical glint in his eye that mocked them both.
Julienne flinched, unable to protect herself against the pain that sliced through her at his casual dismissal. All she could do was curse herself for acting the fool.
The same witless, love-hungry fool she had been seven years ago.
Chapter
----
Four
Julienne felt a measure of relief four days later when she was admitted to the salon of Madame Solange Brogard. She had feared she might be the chief topic of conversation at the afternoon gathering of French émigrés. All London knew of Lord Wolverton’s vow to win her and was watching for further developments with avid interest.
But the excited chatter that filled the elegant room now was punctuated with words like “Chaumont” and “Castlereagh” and predictions that “the Monster will soon fall.” Thankfully, world events had overshadowed her own predicament and provided greater fodder for gossip than the scandal Dare seemed set on causing her.
Lord Castlereagh, Britain’s foreign secretary, had persuaded her reluctant allies, Russia, Prussia, and Austria, to commit irrevocably to the defeat of Napoleon. After decades of war, Europe finally stood united to crush revolutionary France. The Treaty of Chaumont that had just been signed was a triumph of policy for Castlereagh, but no one was more pleased than the French nobles in exile, many of whom were in this room.
“It is only a matter of weeks now,” an elderly chevalier prophesied. “And then we will see our beloved King Louis reclaim his birthright.”
Several heads nodded
Then rapture engulfed her. She gripped his arms fiercely as an incoherent sound of panic sounded from her throat, but his mouth captured her scream. Wildly she dug her nails into his muscles as she erupted in a fiery, shimmering explosion, but Dare responded ruthlessly, his straining thighs forcing hers even wider to prolong her ecstasy.
The powerful convulsions left her so dazed, she could only cling to Dare as he drove himself to his own convulsive climax. When his throes of passion finally diminished, she sagged against him, exhausted.
The tremors faded slowly. She could still feel him pulsing within her own sated flesh, could hear his heart hammering beneath her cheek.
When finally he pulled away, leaving her tender and aching, she could have wept.
He was silent for a moment as he fastened his breeches.
“I think we should call this a draw,” he observed impassively, his voice husky yet without inflection of any kind.
Julienne stiffened, suddenly realizing what she had just allowed to happen. Her mind spinning, she glanced down at her wanton dishevelment and drew a sharp breath, aghast. Sweet heaven.
Flushing with shame, she pushed down her skirts and fumbled to straighten her chemise and bodice. She could feel Dare’s gaze on her, yet she looked anywhere but at him. She felt stripped bare of all defenses, her emotions naked and exposed.
Dear God, what had she done? She hadn’t expected their lovemaking to go all the way, hadn’t meant for their passion to flare out of control. She had only intended to tease Dare, to torment him as he was set on doing to her. She hadn’t wanted him to win so effortlessly.
Her stomach wrenched. Dare had called this battle a draw, but he had gotten precisely what he wanted—her panting and moaning with desire for him. Damn him.
And damn her.
Despising herself, Julienne stole a glance at him. Was he feeling the same profound regret that she was?
He didn’t seem happy about their carnal lapse. His face was expressionless, with no indication of the dismay that was swamping her, but at least there was no sign of triumph, either.
Then he spoke.
“Come, darling, I will take you home,” he drawled, a cynical glint in his eye that mocked them both.
Julienne flinched, unable to protect herself against the pain that sliced through her at his casual dismissal. All she could do was curse herself for acting the fool.
The same witless, love-hungry fool she had been seven years ago.
Chapter
----
Four
Julienne felt a measure of relief four days later when she was admitted to the salon of Madame Solange Brogard. She had feared she might be the chief topic of conversation at the afternoon gathering of French émigrés. All London knew of Lord Wolverton’s vow to win her and was watching for further developments with avid interest.
But the excited chatter that filled the elegant room now was punctuated with words like “Chaumont” and “Castlereagh” and predictions that “the Monster will soon fall.” Thankfully, world events had overshadowed her own predicament and provided greater fodder for gossip than the scandal Dare seemed set on causing her.
Lord Castlereagh, Britain’s foreign secretary, had persuaded her reluctant allies, Russia, Prussia, and Austria, to commit irrevocably to the defeat of Napoleon. After decades of war, Europe finally stood united to crush revolutionary France. The Treaty of Chaumont that had just been signed was a triumph of policy for Castlereagh, but no one was more pleased than the French nobles in exile, many of whom were in this room.
“It is only a matter of weeks now,” an elderly chevalier prophesied. “And then we will see our beloved King Louis reclaim his birthright.”
Several heads nodded
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